It’s really nice to be able to say that I had a great night’s sleep last night: my bed was comfortable, the room had heat, the only noise came from my iTunes and there were glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and moons on my ceiling to take me back 20 years. I’ve also been practicing a technique that I learned in my yoga class in Rishikesh: you start by relaxing your toes then your calves then your thighs, etc and as you go you say, “I relax my toes. My toes are completely relaxed.” There’s one line that I always save for last because it encapsulates exactly what I’ve been trying to learn to do here in India: “I relax my heart. My heart is completely relaxed.” Here’s hoping that my mind can convince my body.
And then, wonder of wonders, a piping hot shower! And it lasts as long as I want it to. There may be something to this idea of paying more than Rs150 a night; by upping my budget from $3.50 to $7 per night I’ve gotten some pretty fine perks. As if things weren’t good enough, there’s a knock on my door and the manager drops off my laundry, neatly pressed and smelling like flowers. It’s probably the nicest treatment those tattered old jeans have ever received. Into my pack they go, with all of my other stuff; I’m loading up to check-out since I have a late train tonight.
On the rooftop café for one last meal, I plan the route I’m going to take on my scooty today. I’m going to ride a fairly large circle around town and see some of the sights on the outskirts of town and up in the hills. The store that rents the bikes and scooters is right next to my own hotel, so five minutes after I pay for my chai and toast I’m picking out a 70cc TVS Scooty. Not the most horsepower in the world, but a. I’m a beginner and b. I’m stingy with my rupiya.
But the time for deliberation is over. They take my passport, wish me a happy journey, and point me towards an alley that slopes fairly sharply downhill and will dump me straight into cross traffic. Oh dear god. Well, nothing like a little trial by fire. Here we go. With my eyes only half-shut I ride the brake, drag my feet for added stability, send up a quick prayer to whoever is in charge up there and blare my tinny little horn as I make a sharp left onto the street.
Just to sidetrack a bit, I have a method of finding someone who speaks English that doesn’t require me to eavesdrop. My tactic is to look at someone’s shoes and glasses; if they’re nicer/clean/stylish, then I assume that that person is probably a bit more educated and maybe even a bit more wealthy than some of the other people around me. Classist and occasionally wrong as it may be, 9 times out of 10 it helps me find someone I can easily communicate with and get help from.
Back to the cenotaphs. These are white marble pavilions built in the 13th century that were used to burn the corpses of nobility and royalty (in separate areas, of course) before their ashes were taken to Varanasi to be dumped in the Ganges. None of them were (supposed to be) used twice, which means that after a couple hundred years you start to run out of space. These beautiful domed platforms were crammed in wherever they would fit, which means that in a few acres there are 369 cenotaphs to look at! You could almost walk from platform to platform on the nobles’ side. On the royal side, though, there are only a few, much larger memorials to the king, queen, princes and princesses. They’re ornately carved and the sheer number is stunning.
Back on my scooter I feel very un-Indian. You think a white woman walking alone gets stared at? Try one on a scooter. Some people don’t know what to make of me; a couple guys almost crash their motorcycles by looking back at this crazy foreign lady putting around like she owns the city and looking a little scandalous. I’m wearing a tank top that shows my tattoo, my pants are rolled up to the knee showing my other tattoo, my short hair doesn’t flap around in the wind much and there’s no man for me to sit behind. In other words, I am a liberated woman and proud of it. Grr! I’m a strong, independent female who can handle herself in India. I kick touts’ asses and take cute boys’ names and emails as I rev all 70CCs of my engine up to 35km/hr. My next thought only knocks my mood down a few pegs as I quickly banish it from mind: Is that why I’m single? Ugh.But no time for glum thoughts, this is just plain old FUN. Definitely one of the 3 coolest things I’ve done in this country. So the roads are a little crazy—cars passing into oncoming traffic; cows, horses, goats and dogs running or sitting in the streets; no blinkers or traffic lights; everyone honking their horn so everyone else knows they’re there, but Mondays are actually quieter so it’s a good day to be driving. Sometimes when I get a little flummoxed I instinctively try to drive on the right, which doesn’t help the situation.
After getting money from the ATM, a man guides me to Saheliyon gardens, made to entertain the 48 maidens that came with the dowry of a Moghul princess. My new friend leads me there on his own scooter then gives me his card (he’s a building materials distributor for construction sites and so basically a god in this country) and says to call him later. He’d like to have me over to dinner with his family this evening. I tell him I honored and grateful, but even though I can’t make any promises that might be pretty cool and I will definitely consider it.
The garden is small, but I take my time to sit in the sun, accidentally overhearing the story of a woman who almost drowned in one of the fountains (apparently the main fountain is ten feet deep and the plants that grow in the water make it difficult to surface if you go under). It’s fun to imagine dozens of women in the finest, brightly-colored silk saris with bangles on their limbs walking from fountain to fountain while peacocks scatter at their feet.
There are two lakes in Udaipur and going back into town I get to drive the coastal road along the more northern of the two, lake Pichola. The sun and wind on my skin feel incredible (the grit and dust maybe not so much), despite the knowledge that I’m just making my terrible dry skin even worse. This road will take me to one of the key locations from the movie Octopussy, the Monsoon Palace. It’s on top of a mountain in a nature preserve just outside of town, and while a few doubts about my scooter’s engine power pop into my head on the way up—then about its braking capabilities on the way down—it’s a marvelously peaceful and scenic trip. The palace itself is shabby and basically falling down, but the views over the hills, lakes and city are second to none. Without the smog, it would be perfection.
To return to town, I have to ride in through the old city gates and then along the walls of the original fort. Suddenly, instead of paying close attention to the road I’m back to imagining what it must have been like to live here when it was first constructed. I doubt the roads have changed much, either in their condition or general layout, but I’m sure the mess of cars and the electrical wiring creating a dangerous lattice above my head are new.
Before I head south past my hotel I have just enough time for pit stop back at Café Namaste where they have more warm date and walnut pie. Friggin’ delicious, I’m telling you. I also have a rose lassi that unfortunately I can’t taste because of my cold. But I can tell you it was a lovely light shade of pink. Moving south I stop to buy a ticket for a sunset boat ride later today then go to the haveli (insulated home) heritage museum, one of the most pleasant surprises I’ve had in India.
The museum is in a haveli that has been meticulously reconstructed and furnished with authentic artifacts from the 1400s and 1500s. There are quarters for the men, women, in-laws, children and servants, and each room was reconstructed to give an accurate picture of daily life in Udaipur five hundred years ago. Colored glass, toys, kitchenware, clothes, paintings on the walls, games, bathroom and toilet accoutrements…it’s all there for you to put yourself back in the time of maharajas and courtesans. Possibly the best part of the museum, however, is only about ten years old. They’ve turned the basement into a surprisingly large and well-stocked modern art gallery. The paintings and sculptures are from Udaipur’s young and upcoming talents, and I would have paid even more just to see the ten rooms given lowest billing. If I didn’t have a boat to catch, I would stay for hours.
“Lauren!” I come to a screeching stop--no small feat in a narrow, crowded alley with foot-deep open gutters on both sides--and look over to see a scruffy-looking foreigner in jeans and a t-shirt. “Marc! Oh, my god, you made it! Want to go on a boat ride?” I’m still thanking the gods for their generous nature as Marc, the cute Australian guy I met in Varanasi, hops onto the back of my scooter (built for one, incidentally). I have a lot to apologize for as I drive: not emailing like I said I would; looking and probably smelling like a hot mess; being in a hurry to make the boat ride.
I also need to apologize for my driving. Oh, my god sometimes I’m such a girl. As soon as I’m around a cute boy I apparently lose all hand-eye coordination and only help support the stereotype about female drivers. Okay, that’s not true; it’s actually due to the fact that he weighs way more than I do and this scooter is only built for one. I wobble and worry my way down to the boat dock, though, and later in the day Marc admits to being impressed that not only did I manage his weight well and keep us upright, but that I was willing to drive in this country at all. Yeah, my ego definitely gets a boost when he says he doesn’t know many girls brave enough to do that.
As we go for our sunset boat ride, there’s no doubt that Udaipur is the place to go in India if you’re in love. Marc is the first to broach the subject of romance and talk about how it would be a great place to go with a girlfriend. I can only sigh and agree and dream… All right, anyway, we ride along the City Palace then turn around and head back towards the two islands in the lake. The first is covered by the Lake Palace Hotel, also prominently featured in Octopussy, which requires either a hotel or restaurant reservation to get to. The second, Jagmandir, has a palace that has been turned into a hotel, but this one is open to visitors from the boat tour. It has marble elephants to greet you as you step off the boat and the inner courtyards have gardens and a café. You can rent little bungalows here that look out over a bubbling fountain decorated with large red, orange and pink flowers for a few thousand rupees a night. The romantic mood kicks into high gear when the sun finally sets and they turn on colored lights all over the hotel. There’s also a man using small wood sticks to tap out a beautiful tune on bowls of water filled to various depths. THIS IS PARADISE. All too soon the spell is broken, though, and it’s time to return to the dock.
In any case, I had a great time and we’re going to meet up again in Jodhpur. It’ll be fun to see the same person for more than a day or two, and something tells me he’s really easy to travel with. He doesn’t talk your ear off, but you know he’s willing to chat if you want to. It’s hard to get on the train, though, because Udaipur is difficult to say goodbye to. Someday, though, I’ll be back and hopefully not alone.
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