Jaipur Here We Come

We have left the safari stop, and are heading for Jaipur.
Looking through our railways tv, I notice the roads and footpaths in these country areas. There aren't any. Everything is dirt. Other than cities and larger towns, it's the same everywhere. Same in Bangladesh. The dirt road becomes the dirt footpath, and then the dirt front yard leading to the front door of a house or shop. Probably dirt floor.

The cities have structured roads with asphalt, gutters, often concrete footpaths.
Actually, that's something interesting about Bangladesh. We'll be there in about a week, but I'll tell you this now.
Bangladesh is a delta. A muddy wasteland where a bunch of Indian rivers meet before emptying into the Bay of Bengal. Rumour has it that when India is feeling particularly pissy with Bangladesh, they open the sluice gates on their dams on these rivers, and try to flush Bangladesh away. Or maybe they just do a synchronized toilet flushing to achieve the same effect.
So. Bangladesh is a delta. As such, their natural resource is silt. Dirt. No rocks.
So when they want to build a proper road, like in a city, they have nothing to make the base course with.
A lot of that silt is rich in clay, so there is a thriving wee industry in brick making. Drive into the country, and the horizon is dotted with tall chimneys coming out of the ground. Get closer, and there is a low building under it, almost at ground level. These are the brick factories, and you will see young children carrying stacks of bricks on their shoulders. Stacking, moving, unshackling, building mountains of bricks for delivery.
Driving through town, and a common sight on the side of the road, is women sitting in front of a pile of bricks, with a small hammer. They are breaking the bricks down into pebbles. Pebbles that will become base course for the new roads.

Crossing the desert again. The odd goat. A fort upon yonder hill. And that one. And that one.

Suddenly there is a stack of huge concrete beams beside the track. Beside them a huge concrete wall. A factory? Must be near a city. No, it's a motorway, and they are building an overpass to go over the track. A line of tip trucks on the other side of the road as we pass it. A hive of industry. We can only look out our side, so have no clue how far this motorway extends on the other side of the train.

Back to desert. The odd hut made of sticks. Watch out for mr wolf, little pig.

Dry land and dirt for as far as the eyes can see. Some trees, there's a herd of something, attended to by someone dressed in white. Common colour, especially for the older guys from the villages. White outfit, white turban.

Crops stacked in piles. Sheafs, is it? Look like tepees. Sorry, wrong kind of Indians. Nothing has changed out here for centuries. Everything done exactly as their grandfathers did it. They know this, because their grandfathers not only live with them they are out in the fields with them. Nothing has changed, except that that guy over there probably has a cell phone. Maybe he's calling granddad.

More goats, a brick farmhouse. Something on top of that hill over there. Some sort of transmission aerial for grandad's Nokia. Oh, and some kind of fort structure under it. Forts are easy to see. Hills are the only things that break the line of the horizon, and the ones with square sides at the top tend to stand out against the sky.

I just saw a couple of deer. Sarah said days ago that she saw some, but what does she know?

I'm no farmer, but the crops look pretty emaciated to me. Water is at a premium out here. They have rudimentary irrigation canals here, but that seems to have only taken the land from barren to hard work. So much land, so little return. So much lost potential.

Suddenly we are coming into the city. Other than more activity, the crops are so much greener, so much healthier. Clearly irrigation is more affordable this close to the city.