After our massages and facials, Amber and I slept like the dead. It helped that this was by far our most luxurious hotel we stayed in to date. The bathroom wasn’t the largest, but the shower was divine. We had a rain shower head plus a hand held head. And the water pressure? Forget about it. And it was necessary considering how much oil was left my skin from the massage.
Amber and I went downstairs around 8:00am for breakfast. It was another buffet. This was nothing particularly special. It was an assortment of eastern and western fare. I did learn how to use an Indian toaster tough. I was informed that you had turn both the timer and push the lever down, as just the lever will leave you with slightly warmer bread. I found that out the hard way.
After breakfast and our stop back in the room to freshen up, we were ready to meet our guide. Mr. Singh was a stately older gentleman with well-worn trousers and a collard shirt covered by a smart sweater. One thing that I’ve noticed is that no matter their station or activity in which they are engaged, every man in India wears a collard shirt. From the man sweeping the trash into the guetter to our tour guide, collard shirts were the norm.
We hopped in the car and headed off to the Amber Fort. It also goes by Amer Fort or Amer Palace. Amber (my travel companion, not the building) had shown me pictures of the palace, so I had a little bit of an idea of what I was in for. But I was still not fully prepared for some of the most beautiful architecture I have ever seen.
As we were driving up, Bablu pulled over to the side of the road at a look out over the lake at the bottom of the hill, upon which the fort was situated. Mr. Singh said we could get out and take some photographs before riding an elephant up the ramparts to the gate. Amber and I both looked at one another, unsure of what we were going to do re: elephant rides, but got out to get some incredible shots.
Like every tourist trap in India, this lookout was full of peddlers and hawkers. There was even a snake charmer, complete with horn and cobra. Turns out that snakes are Amber’s number one fear, so we maintained our distance from him.
The fort is situated on top of a hill, about 1,200 feet above where we were standing. There are switch back ramparts that take the intrepid hiker or elephant to the main gate. Weirdly the elephant ride to the summit was included in our package, but no the entrance to the fort. After a little mental gymnastics, I convinced myself that riding an elephant up the hill was a cultural experience I couldn’t get anywhere else. Amber held true to her beliefs and took the car to the top with Bablu.
Riding the elephant was strange. It wasn’t particularly comfortable as Mr. Singh and I meandered up the hill on the back of one of these gentle giants. It wouldn’t have been so bad had I not been convinced that our saddle was going to slide off the elephant and I was going to fall about fifteen feet on to the wall, fall over the wall, and then down the 1,200 feet we had just climbed. My fears were reinforced when, after we got to the courtyard, the elephant driver told us to scoot back because even he could feel we were slipping.
Elephant ride over, I rejoined my compatriot who was dressed rather stylishly in a forest green Punjabi she had purchased, decorated with maroon floral embroidery. The effect of the outfit made the photos exponentially better.
Mr. Singh took us to the ticket counter and then we entered the fort. He showed us around the various rooms, interior palaces and gave us some history of the fort. There isn’t a ton that I remember as I was in cultural and sensory overload mode, plus these awful American women were distracting me by being awful Americans. But some of the highlights included the queens gate where she could view the visitors that were coming to meet her, the mirror palace that was probably the most stunning part of the fort, and views of the old palace that was built several hundred years prior to the fort we were standing in.
As we winded around the hallways of the fort, something occurred to me. This fort had hallways that were ramps, rather than stairways. Mr. Singh told us the reason for these ramps were because often times, during ceremonies, women would be in extremely heavy saris and jewels, so instead of walking, they would be rolled around on lavishly decorated wheelchairs. Hence the need for accessibility in the fort.
When we got to the other side of the queen’s gate, I decided to take the obligatory photo in front of it. One of the Indian guides (not Mr. Singh) laughed and said that I was taking a photo at the queen’s gate and that it was for women. I replied that in my country I was a queen, so it was okay. I could tell whose first language was English by how the responded to that. I was quite proud of myself for that one.
The mirror palace was the showstopper in this fort. Mr. Singh had told us that a few years back someone had vandalized the interior of the palace, so it was off limits for tourists to enter, but we were free to peek inside from the open doorways. The palace lived up to its names. About every foot or so was a round mirror inlayed into the marble. Apparently, these mirrors came from Belgium in the 18th century, because Belgium made the best glass back then. Between the mirrors was some of the most intricate inlay work I had seen, and yes, I’m including the Taj Mahal in that statement. It was breathtaking.
As we moved on, we found ourselves in an overlook jutting high above the town below. It was from that vantage point that we could see the old palace, several hundred feet lower. It was also in that space that those awful Americans were being awful Americans. They were rude, pushy and oblivious to everyone around them. They would block other waiting to get a shot through the window area, would comment too loudly about how things back in the day didn’t make sense, and you could tell they couldn’t view Indian culture through any lens except the upper middle class white privilege lens they had lived in all their lives.
We moved on quickly so as to not have to be around them anymore. We were also nearing the end of our time at the palace. Several slick stairways later, we had reached the car park where Bablu was waiting for us. We were off to our next stop to look at the precious and semi-precious stones.
Now I don’t know if I have “easy mark” written on the back of my head, but somehow sales people know that I will buy something. I was remarkably proud of myself that at the jewelers workshop it was Amber who made the big purchase, instead of myself. Though I did come awfully close to buying a custom pair of aquamarine cufflinks. Instead, I walked away with an $8 moon stone pendant. Amber, on the other hand, is now the owner of an absolutely stunning silver ring, set with diamonds separating three larger blue sapphire stones. But don’t worry, I maintained my title as biggest spender on this trip.
After we were all done at the jewelry store, we headed to lunch. It was a nice Indian restaurant offering a buffet of veg and non-veg options. Naturally I got butter chicken with some cheese naan. Amber got some chicken tikka and some butter naan. We had a couple of diet cokes as well. Life was good.
After we satisfied our hunger, we were off to the textile workshop where we would see how block printed textiles were made. We hopped in the car ready for our journey. After literally thirty seconds, Bablu pulls into a drive way. We were there. I felt a little silly having driven all of two buildings over, but what was done was done.
The tour of the factor starts out with the workshop. Amber and I were actually given the opportunity to block print our own piece of fabric. The gentleman who was hosting us here showed us how the different dyes were placed on various wood blocks. The wood blocks contained different elements that would layer on one another. After four layers of the vegetable dyes were successfully applied, he rinsed the cloth in a briny solution. What happened next was reminiscent of those magic markers that were super popular in the ‘90s that changed color when you drew over them with the white pen. The relatively monochromatic brown elephant picture we had stamped suddenly turned various shades of marron, blue and green. It was dope.
From there, we went inside to take a look at the fabrics, textiles, scarves and wall hangings they had for sale. Amber scored by getting six scarves for friends for about twenty dollars. I either scored or spent way too much money, depending on your point of view, on sixteen meters of block printed fabric and two more custom shirts, this time made from metal block printed cotton. They took my measurements and my money, and we were finished.
After parting with more money that I probably had to part with, we were off to the observatory. I was thinking this was going to be some white domed building in the middle of the city that long ago became obsolete after light pollution ruined the night sky. I was wrong. What we entered in to was a living breathing science museum, still active and working today. It even was home to the world’s largest sun dial. As we toured the grounds, Mr. Singh showed us how the Indian astronomers who built this place used the instruments. He showed us how we could find the local time in Jaipur (since all of India is on one time zone), how the astrologists could calculate your horoscope, and even how you could find the longitude and latitude but day and night using the instruments. It was far more interesting that I had hoped for and I was pleasantly surprised at the experience.
From there, Mr. Singh said we were going over to the City Palace. Throughout the day he had been telling us stories about the kings and queens of Jaipur. The royal family still exists today, though after unification and freedom in 1947, they were purely ceremonial and wielded no legal political power anymore. He told us that the current king, who was adopted by his grandfather at age four, was now twenty-two. As we toured the palace, he gave us more information and anecdotes about the previous Raj’s for Jaipur. My favorite was the story of the 7’ tall 500lb king. After seeing his pajama pants, I was very curious to see what he would look like. Mr. Singh told us that we would see a portrait of him at the end of the tour.
We made our way through the palace, seeing various courtyards, portraits and pieces of memorabilia from India’s royal past. Some of the more noteworthy times included the largest silver vessels created in the world, specifically to transport Ganges water with the Raj as he traveled to England in the early 20th century as well as the royal crest made from old rifles. All in all, it was a fascinating step through India’s past.
Following our visit to the City Palace, we were on our way to visit the Wind Palace. It was nearly sunset, and this was number one on Amber’s list of things to get a photo of in Jaipur. It did not disappoint. Even though we didn’t stay there long and Mr. Singh didn’t really describe much of what we were looking at, the architecture was enough to capture your imagination. The pink palace walls were several stories high with ornately decorated windows facing the street. It was hard to imagine passing by this building every day and not marveling at its beauty.
We got several insta worthy photos that satisfied my boon companion. We were then heading back to the hotel to pack up for our flight to Varnasi the next day.
Once back at the Fern Residency, Amber and I thanked Mr. Singh and Bablu told us he would be at the hotel at 6:00am to bring us to the airport. Amber and I had a lot of work to do to try to get our bags under weight. Spoiler: we failed.
When booking this trip, we added on the Varanasi expedition. It wasn’t until after we booked that the tour operator let us know that we’d need to book an additional flight to get us there. They said to make sure we get an afternoon flight since we’d have to drive to Delhi and that was four to five hours. I inquired if we could fly from Jaipur to Varnasi, and he said that we could. So we did.
We booked on the budget carrier SpiceJet. I knew that my bag was overweight when I arrived in India, and that was before the four custom shirts, twenty meters of fabric and custom suit I had purchased in the previous eight days.
As we both packed our suitcases, I made the decision to leave clothes behind. And I mean a lot of clothes. These were clothes that wouldn’t fit me or I could easily and cheaply replace in the states. So goodbye worn underwear, jeans with a hole where my thighs rubbed the fabric raw, and white shirts with rust stains on them! Hello slightly lighter bag.
Afrer a quick dinner of, you guessed it, butter chicken and naan, though I did add rice this time, we were back in our room in a melatonin induced slumber, ready for our next adventure!
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