Jaipur

Off in a bus again.

For those that give a crap, we fit comfortably into two buses on our outings. To decide the split, the train people have dished out coloured badges, to aid in getting us into the various locations. No queuing. Half of the badges are pink, half blue. Was the split arbitrary? Who knows. We are in the pink group, so whenever we leave the train, we follow the guy saying pink group this way.

Luckily, our guide doesn't have a little flag to hold up. Sarah would never live it down.

By the way, we saw the best yet at KL airport, but I wasn't close enough to get a photo. The tour leader was marching through the terminal, with a fluffy great animal paw sticking up in the air.

Anyway. Off to Jaipur. The old city, in the middle, is called the pink city. No correlation there. Beyond that is a fort. Quite a big one, and apparently a working fort. We didn't see any troops here, but the upkeep of the place is very, very good.

This is called the Amber Fort.

We get led up some steps, and there are some elephants, all geared up and ready to take us, two by two, to the top of the fort.

Sarah and her mum end up together, which leaves me as an orphan, so I wait to the side. Soon there's another odd man out, so I park next to him. And we're off.

Not the easiest thing to do, hang onto my bag, take the odd photo, all the while trying not to fall off the elephant. I can see the advantage now for that god they have with a few extra arms. Would come in very handy right about now. I look up ahead to try and see Sarah, but no luck. There's a bend up ahead and an elephant has turned around. Sarah's mum on the back, but no sign of Sarah. We get a little closer, and the elephant is against the bank, where Sarah is standing. Apparently, her mum hadn't been sitting properly, so Sarah spent this first stretch trying to keep them both from sliding off. She gets back on, and they are moving again. We have passed them by this time. This is a race, people.

All the way up, there are photographers vying for our attention, snapping our pictures. They then call out their names, so that we can buy the photos when we get back down. Our guy was Ali Baba.

When we get off the elephants, we are shown into some palatial areas. Sarah is a bit wobbly after the experience, and not best pleased with her mum for the squeaking and squawking noises while on the elephant.

Soon we are led into a restaurant at the top of the fort, for another beautiful lunch. A tremendous day, for me at least.

We come down the hill in jeeps, to meet the buses. Ali Baba is waiting. I walk past and take my seat in row 2. Unfortunately, I am in his direct line of sight, and he hasn't finished with me. We were told that we were not compelled to buy these photos, but clearly Ali Baba never got that memo."500 rupees. Mister. Mister. Remember me, mister. Ali Baba. See your photos."

By the way, 500 rupees is about 12 dollars NZ.

This one way conversation went on for a while, until he gave in and offered 400 rupees.

Repeat of the chorus, and then it's 300 rupees. I have been ignoring him all along. I'm not carrying any cash, and going down the back of the bus to get some from Sarah is not an option I would relish. To be honest, having photos circulating of me on an elephant doesn't fill me with warm fuzzy feelings.

Our guide intercedes, and takes the album of photos from the guy and comes onboard. What would you pay, he asks me. I say ask Sarah, she has the money. He goes down and gives her the album, which she quite likes. Typical! She offers 100 rupees (about $2.20).

By this time the bus door has closed, and we start moving. He takes Sarah's 100 rupees, passes it to the drivers assistant up the front, who offers it to Ali Baba. Take it or leave it. He takes it. So now, there is an album somewhere of me in my "Crocodile Dundee" hat and sunnies, on the back of an elephant, and looking like a complete plank. Don't bother asking Sarah for a look. She won't be able to find it by then.

Have I mentioned my "Crocodile Dundee" hat? I bought it at Sydney airport. Clearly I found Sarah at a moment of weakness. It's a leather hat, like the classic aussy Akubra fedora. The cool thing about it is that it's designed to fold up and put in a wee bag. Well, alright then, cool to me. As a result, Sarah never got to see it until a hot day on the trip. Actually, today might have been her first viewing. Too late to change her mind. Yes, I still look like a plank, but at least the top of my head is not starting to smell like bacon.

After lunch, we came back through the town, and did a tour of their observatory. An odd tourist destination, but surprisingly interesting. Calculating time and star sign by the sun.

Then off to the city palace over the road before shopping.

There was a bit of a rebellion from a faction of our party. There are three Swedish women who are always the last to leave whatever shopping centre we are taken to. The rest of us sit on the bus while they faff around in their own time. They don't often buy much, but they do take their sweet time deciding. I call them ABBA.

Anyway, ABBA wanted to see street markets, not just the arranged stores. The guides try to accommodate, so we split into two subgroups, one who will wait on the bus, and the others who will look at some local shops. Some have decided to tag along with ABBA, with one guide.

Communication got a bit dodgy, and we ended up waiting on the bus longer than expected. In the end we head off to the arranged shops not far away. The ABBA touring party can catch up.

We arrive at the first stop, a store that works with semiprecious stones. We go inside to wait for ABBA, but they are already here. Crap!

Sarah and her mum look at some jewellery, I look at some chess sets. We don't get anything, and get back on the bus. And wait. And wait. A few others are still inside, but as expected, ABBA is last to leave.

Next is a store that makes carpets and block printed fabric. We do the circuit, watching the steps of making carpets, and Sarah has disappeared already. There are clothes inside. The guy gives us a tip on cleaning spills off a rug. Yoghurt, salt and lemon juice. Ok then.

We then see how the block printing is done. Remember the days at primary school, when we made stamps out of a potato? Ok so I'm old.

The stamps are usually in sets of four, just like printers do. One for each colour.

The colours are made from vegetables and plants. Very Eco friendly.

We are told that historically, the fabric is left for two days for these dyes to set, but as a manufacturer, they don't have that luxury, so they have a trick.

The fabric that has just been printed, is dipped into salt water, and then into plain water.

The colours set instantly, and will never fade and never run. It's almost like a magic trick, really. You see, the final colour is different to the colour of the wet dye. When the sample he was using came out of the salt water, all the colours had magically changed to their final hue. Cool.

We then go inside where they try to sell us carpets. An impressive display. I see some beautiful silk ones, but Sarah drags me out to where she has been buying salwars.

The salwar kameez is a women's suit, of trousers, a long top and a scarf. Next to the sari, it is the most common outfit for Indian women.

So, she was a happy girl, and off we go to the bus. Most are already here, but you guessed it. We are waiting for ABBA.

Eventually we are all on the bus, and on our way to another nice hotel for dinner.