Skiing The Kashmir Mountains of India

When we think of great ski locations, India isn't generally one of the first places that comes to mind. But for remote mountain settings, it's hard to beat the Kashmir region of that country. The video below, shot by Jordan Manley, gives us a glimpse at what it is like to ski there however, capturing everything in a beautiful, almost travelogue style. It is amazing what we can shoot and edit ourselves these days. Just beautiful.

Thanks again to The Adventure Life for this one. Lots of great videos coming our way this week!




Kashmir - A Skier's Journey: Ep1 from Jordan Manley Photography on Vimeo.

Tweet

The World Tri: A 12,000 Mile Long Triathlon

Now here is a very cool expedition for you. Adventurer Charlie Wittmack is setting out on what he calls his "World Tri" today, which will incorporate all the elements of a standard triathlon, and in the same order, but on a much larger scale.


Charlie will begin in London, where he'll swim down the River Thames, then across the English Channel to France. Once safely on the other side of the Channel, he'll get on his bike and ride to Calcutta, India, where he'll then proceed on foot to Nepal, up the Khumbu Valley, and attempt to climb Mt. Everest. All told, the journey is expected to cover more than 12,000 miles through 13 countries, over the span of about 11 months. If all goes as expected, he'll be making a summit bid on Everest in May of next year. 


Wittmack is no stranger to adventurous pursuits. He successfully climbed Everest back in 2003, and attempted to swim across the English Channel back in 2008. On that attempt he had to be pulled from the water mid-swim due to the cold conditions. This time he is wearing a wetsuit to help keep him warm on his swim. 


The World Tri isn't just about the adventure however, as Charlie is on the expedition to help raise awareness of a couple of causes in the Health and Education area. The first of those causes is the incredible maternal mortality rate in Nepal, where a woman is 100 times more like to die during childbirth than here in the U.S. When the expedition reaches Kathmandu, a team of doctors and students will provide clinics to help educate local women on steps the can take to be safer and more healthy. In the field of Education, Charlie is working with the Adventure Institute to develop a year long curriculum program to help bring learning communities together, allowing students and educators to share in the experience.


Charlie, along with his wife and son, let out for the London today, and he is expected to begin his swim in the River Thames tomorrow. Hopefully everything will go well, and he'll complete the swim leg of his triathlon without issue. If not, he says he'll continue on no matter what, but it shouldn't be too long before he's on his bike and peddling his way toward India. 

Tweet

Amritsar: the final chapter

At this point, it has now taken me longer to blog about India than it did to actually plan and go on the trip itself. It would be nice to wax poetic about how this is due to the indescribable beauty and mystery we witnessed throughout our travels, but the truth lies closer to the facts that twelve cities= twelve blog posts and I am a procrastinator. Those immutable impediments aside, I have finally reached the end of the Indian adventure.

On the same day that Laura and Lena were boarding flights home, I was hopping a train up to Amritsar, the holiest Sikh city in the northern region of Punjab. It was now late December and the temperature was dropping sharply, which combined with exhaustion from a pretty hectic schedule, had me sick and coughing like tuberculosic chain smoker. This was justifiably stressing the mother of the sweet, quiet boy who was seated next to me on the train for a five hour ride. I felt bad for them both every time she came over to the boy with a new batch of vitamins for him to take.

After fitful attempts at sleep on the train, I had every intention of resting once I checked into the chilled-out Grand Hotel. Of course, that plan took a hit once the front desk clerk mentioned that there was a guest looking for someone to join a tour that required a minimum of two participants. I figured I could either sign up right then and there or be in the same position as the solo guest the next day.

So I joined Cindy, a young woman from Boulder who was studying Hindi in college for a city and border ceremony tour. We began with a visit to the Mata Temple, named after Mata Lal Devi, a female saint associated with the well-being of children. The temple is so incredibly, majestically cheesy that I almost completely forgot about being sick. Even from the outside, it looks more like the entrance to an attraction you would find in Coney Island than a place of worship.

The theme continues inside with statues that looks like ventriloquist dummies and a fun-house type labyrinth that has the visitor crawling on all fours through a tunnel in one room and walking through a water-filled trench in another. It was seriously awesome. For anyone, who like myself, delights in visiting bizarre attractions, this is seriously a must-do.

Another one would have to be our next stop. We drove 28 kilometers to the town of Wagah. This is the site of the lone border crossing between arch-rivals India and Pakistan, an area predictably occupied by numerous military installations. Every evening at sunset, there is a ceremony to mark the closing of the gate between the two countries.

Huge crowds gather on bleachers on either side to watch a highly choreographed high-kicking Rockette-worthy routine performed by uniformed guards. On the day we were there, the scene was mobbed with Indian tourists and school children chanting, screaming and generally creating a very sports-event type of vibe.

There were vendors selling flags, banners, popcorn, peanuts, sodas…all that was missing was the “We’re #1” foam fingers. Being two of the very few non-Indians in the crowd, Cindy and I were directed to the VIP area. . Even from there, we did not have a clear enough shot to video tape the ceremony, but, for anyone that is curious, it's on YouTube. Trust me, it’s worth it.

After all the theatrics are done, the soldiers lower their respective flags in unison making sure that no one flag is ever higher than the other. The border is officially closed for the day and the entire mass of humanity pours out into the parking area. I had faint hope for ever finding our driver in that mob, but he obviously had experience with clueless tourists because as soon as we came within 200 feet of him, he was jumping up and down, waving his arms, doing everything short of shooting flares to make sure we found our way back.

We had one final stop on our tour, Amritsar’s pride and joy, the Golden Temple. It was a photo of the glittering beacon which appears to float in the middle of a reflective lake that convinced me to add the city to my itinerary. Seeing it for the first time in the evening, all lit up and buzzing with worshippers was the perfect introduction. Since Cindy had already been there during the day, she knew that the lengthy line to enter the temple was a slow moving one that we could never do in our short one hour visit, so we opted to walk around admiring the temple from all angles and put in a quick visit to the free dining room which serves an average of 40,000 people a day.

The following day, I returned with more time, although my worsening cold caused me to quickly cancel any plans of doing so at sunrise. With the weather so cold I could see my breath and a persistent haze that was bound to squash any possibility of a dramatic photo op, it was an easy call to make. When I did get to the temple, the line was just as long as it had been the night before. The temple is open 24 hours a day and I suspect the line at this, the Sikh’s holiest site, never really wanes. I waited for well over an hour, coughing like a fiend and hoping the entire time that I would not pass out.

The crowd, composed of people of all ages holding leaves with some kind of sweet inside to have blessed, did not seem to mind one way or another. When I finally got inside, it was only for a brief moment. There was a group of people chanting and playing music in the center of the room, while worshippers threw coins amidst much pushing and shoving. It was madness (although it could have been worse had they decided to throw the orange sticky-looking and now holy sweet they all had in hand).

Durgiana Temple: the Hindu answer to the Sikh's Golden Temple

After all that excitement, I returned to the hotel to relax, recoup and indulge in my newfound passion, a Bollywood movie. I was now at the end of my visit to India and it felt good to just kick back and reminisce on all I had seen. With that in mind, I would like to tackle one final great Indian myth: that the visitor will either love it or hate it, no in between. Had I been there only a week or maybe two, I would be willing to call this an exaggeration.

I initially liked India, a lot, but it wasn’t the passionate love at first sight/ immediate loathing that everyone talks about. However, something happened at about the two week mark, the initial novelty had worn off and I was no longer fixating on the little things (ie. cows in the road, manic driving, random public urination), I was focusing more on the boundless beauty of the country and its people. I was getting overwhelmed by the consistency of the kindness that was shown to us everywhere we went. I was awestruck at India’s ability to surprise me with sites each more beautiful than the last. Simply put, I was, and still am, in love with Incredible India.

Tweet

The Delhi Dilemma

There is the old refrain “Leave the best for last” and then there is our approach to the city of Delhi which went more along the lines of “Put it off until you can’t put it off no more.” We heard and read so many discouraging things about this major city, from tourists and Indians alike, that we would have been perfectly content to skip it altogether.

The problem was that when determining a route through India, we had to account for the fact that three travelers were coming from three different parts of the world (in our case, the US, Romania and the Ukraine) and had no choice but to meet there. This did not mean, however, that we had to stay there. I flew into Delhi direct from Chicago and after a brief eight hour stay in a hostel whose décor could best be described as “prison chic”, I met the girls at the domestic terminal where we immediately boarded a flight for Varanasi.

Three weeks later, we had reached the point where we had been to nine cities in Northern India and our time was running out. Based on logistic necessity, we were to end back where we started, in dreaded Delhi. We gave ourselves three days of sightseeing and last minute errands before my friends headed home and I took a train to my last stop, Amritsar.

We expected the worst from Delhi, and at least initially, Delhi complied. After a flight in from lovely Udiapur, we spent an hour sitting in smoggy traffic on our way to a hotel in Paharganj, near Old Delhi. This area, known for its budget lodging and a shopping area known as the Main Bazaar is a mad jumble of noise, unyielding commotion, bargain stores and a veritable landmine of turds of undetermined provenance. The moment we stepped out of the cab, a legless man was at our feet panhandling and our hotel was an irredeemable dump. And if that was not enough, the darkness of our late arrival added a decidedly menacing air to our new surroundings.

We spent our first evening looking for different accommodations and eventually found both an equally dumpy hotel (but at a fraction of the cost we were paying) and an illicit backpacker bar that would become our unofficial headquarters for the remainder of the stay. At the bar, we met a crazy Italian, a wonderful Iranian couple, and the bar owner who set up a city tour with his brother for the following morning, after requiring a deposit, of course.

When the time came, we were up early enough to change hotels and be at the bar by the appointed 9 am meeting time. The same can not be said of the driver. Unbeknownst to us, the brother was at a wedding and quite drunk when he accepted the job and come morning time, he forgot all about us. All the hassles we had successfully avoided throughout India were threatening to quickly catch up with us. Eventually, we got our deposit back and set up a similar tour through another agency, one that instead of explaining the impossibility of seeing all that we wanted to see due to time constraints, boldly lied to us about the Red Fort being closed due to security reasons. They promised a list of ten stops to make up for it and I dutifully copied the list into my travel notes. Our new driver, Getoo, saw me doing this and went into instant damage control mode, explaining how the unpredictability of Delhi traffic made even our modified list impossible. To his credit, he never did try to feed us the ‘closed due to security’ line and the entire thing became a sort of running joke as, after every stop, he would hand me his pen and insist that I check each item off my list.

He first took us to the Parliament and the President’s House, which was very stately, over-sized and unapproachable. It was in a part of the Delhi that did not seem to share the same planet with Paharganj with its wide landscaped streets, orderly traffic and a near-total absence of litter. We traveled a few blocks before stopping again, this time at the India Gate, a much less ornate Arc d’Triomphe celebrating India’s independence. That was two quick check-marks right there.

The Presidential Palace

India Gate

Next, we stopped at Humayan’s Tomb, a UNESCO world heritage site and one of the first major example of Mughal architecture in India, as well as the first structure of its size to use red sandstone. As the name suggests, it is the tomb of the Mughal Emperor Humayan, although his wife and several other prominent Mughals are also interred there.

The complex is surrounded by a gorgeous area of Persian inspired landscaping, known as the Char Bagh Garden, divided into four areas by walkways and manmade canals. After years of neglect, it has received some much-needed and well-deserved attention.

We continued to what would become my favorite site in all of Delhi, the Qutb Minar. In photos and guidebooks, the 72.5 meter tower and UNESCO world heritage site does not look like much, just a towering minaret set amongst some ruins. But in person, the world’s tallest brick minaret is something quite powerful, managing to look both delicate and imposing at the same time. The audio guide I rented pointed out highlights amongst the ruins including columns that, in the Mughal’s rush to build a mosque in their newly conquered land in 1193, were recycled from Hindu temples and therefore had depictions of Hindu deities, in direct contradiction to the Islamic prohibition against representative images. The audio guide had actors playing the roles of a curious child asking questions about the site, several Mughal emperors and caretakers from the past. The actor playing Firoz Shah Tuqhlaq, the man who tried to built a minaret even taller than the Qutb Minar, was so over the top as to be unintentionally hilarious as he lamented how fabulous his competing tower would have been had he had the opportunity to complete it.

Qtab Minar

After reassuring a harried Getoo, who was stressed over the fact that we had spent close to three hours at the Qutb Minar, we paid a visit to the Lotus Temple. It is a fairly recent addition to the city, having been completed in 1986 and is known for its unique shape. The temple is dedicated to the B’nai faith and its volunteers rival the Mormons of Salt Lake City in their naked zeal to recruit new members. I guess maintaining a big white lotus in the middle of Delhi ain’t cheap.

Our final stop of the day was at the Akshardham Temple or as we quickly dubbed it, Hindu Disney. The spotless new massive grounds boasted extra-tight security, extreme organization and a soulless air that while artistically admirable seemed to me to be the very antithesis of India. We skipped the animatronic Hall of Virtues, the IMAX-like presentation on Hindu history and the boat trip through the artificial waterways so it is quite possible we did not give Hindu Disney a fair shake but having experienced the real thing throughout much of India, it was not something that held much appeal for us so instead, we ended up spending our time in the most orderly food court I have ever seen. I may not be able to recommend the park but I’ve got nothing but raves for their veggie burger.

We had managed to put 6 out of 10 checkmarks on our list and with two remaining days to see the rest, we were feeling pretty good about our prospects. Getoo, who had to spend the evening driving an Indian family to Amritsar was feeling less optimistic. Contrary to what I would have expected, he explained that he preferred driving foreigners, since the employer/ employee divide was not as pronounced as it is with his fellow countrymen. Listening to him speak of past horror stories, I was reminded of the excellent book, White Tiger, about an Indian driver who ends up getting fed up and killing his master.

On our second day, we dove into the craziest part of the craziest town, visiting the heart of Old Delhi. We took a tuk-tuk to the Red Fort, where we were immediately accosted by pedicab drivers offering tours. We managed to get past them long enough to enter the Red Fort, yet another UNESCO world heritage site. The fort, built by Shah Jahan, is only 25% open to the public with the rest occupied by the military. What little there is to see hints at the grandeur that once existed within its walls. At one point, the fort housed the world’s largest diamond, now in London, and a magnificent golden jewel-studded peacock, which is now in Iran. There was a canopied walkway where fake rain could be produced during the dry months, book-ended by two gazebos named July and August, after the monsoon months. There are still visible remnants of the marble inlaid with precious stones motif that Jahan would later repeat at the Taj Mahal, although most of the stones were removed by looters long ago.

Inside the Red Fort

As soon as we exited the fort, the pedicab pushers were back in full force, so much so, that we ended hiring a couple so as not to have to deal with it for the remainder of the day. It was good thing that we did because the incomprehensible maze that is Old Delhi would have been impossible to navigate without them. They pedaled us through unbelievably narrow lanes crowded from end to end with an unending mass of humanity. The thought of even trying to find our way through there was terrifying. About five minutes into the ride, I remember thinking ‘I wonder if this guy knows that at this point I would be willing to pay any price he asked to stay on this pedicab’. Lucky for me, he didn’t.

They took us to the Jama Massid mosque, also built by Shah Jahan. Our jeans/ t-shirt combos were deemed too infidel-ly for the mosque and we were given large clown-colored coveralls to wear over our clothes. Oddly, I saw Indian women wearing very similar jeans/ t-shirt outfits who were permitted to go in as is, but since most western tourists seem to get a kick out of photographing each other in the latest mosque-wear, I suspect they were trying to do us a favor. The mosque was impressive due to its size, but was not as ornate as others I have seen. One interesting detail was at the entrance pillars, the depiction of the sun symbolizing the king was placed at the bottom (as opposed to everywhere else where it appears at the top) to signify that all men are equal before Allah.

Our pedicab peddlers led us into Chandi Chowk, the marketplace area where every good known to man (and probably some that aren’t) is available for purchase. They would frequently park their bikes and carefully lead us through the alleyways like baby ducklings. I don’t think it was so much as an overabundance of caution on their part as past experience, since I have no doubt they have lost numerous tourists in that cacophony (many who are still probably trying to find a way out to this day). They showed us a second story spice market that left little doubt what the preferred flavoring was in Indian cooking. For every guy selling cardamom, there were five selling red chili peppers. It was enough to make my eyes water and my nose twitch.

After the sensory assault of Chandi Chowk, we parted with our guides and headed to the quiet tranquility of the Raj Ghat, the lush park surrounding the spot where Mahatma Gandhi was cremated. Along with a memorial flame for the world famous leader, there was also a separate monument to Indira Gandhi’s son. To get from one to the other, you had to walk past duck-filled ponds, towering trees with comically hyper squirrels and an rich abundance of bird life. It was the perfect antidote for the frazzled nerves Old Delhi had produced. We did not do this by design, but having done it, I would recommend to anyone touring Delhi to visit the two in the same order we did.

The pedicab is the principal form of transport in Old Delhi

The Mosque

The crowded streets of Old Delhi

Fruit vendor in Chandi Chowk

Just try to get a photo without a dangling cable

Spice Market

Our third and final day in India was a blur. We began by visiting the very impressive Gandhi museum located on the site where he spent his final days. You can visit the room where he stayed and follow a trail of concrete footprints that lead from his guesthouse to the spot where he was fatally shot. In the garden, there are vivid explanations of the relationship between the English colonizers and their Indian subjects and the injustices that led to Gandhi standing up for his people. The second floor of the museum is dedicated to conveying his message of unity and truth via interactive exhibits that could have easily been cheesy but instead came off as touching and innovative. As far as museums go, this is the most professionally done that I saw in all of India.

The rest of the day was spent visiting with the friend of a friend who showed us around the more exclusive and thus more westernized areas of Delhi before leaving us to complete an unending list of last minute errands, everything from copying memory cards to buying eleventh hour souvenirs to confirming airport transfers and flight statuses. It went by so quickly that I barely remember saying good-bye to either Laura or Lena before I had to shuffle sleepily to the train station to continue my own adventure.

I can’t say I was terribly sorry to leave Delhi. It was not as horrible as expected, the Qutb Minar was amazing, but the constant assault of noise, traffic and visual blight of dangling wires can do a number on the hardiest of travelers. It wasn’t great, it didn’t suck but as the site of the country’s major airport, it was all but unavoidable. The most you can do is make the best of it. That and put it off until the end. And make sure to keep an eye out for the turds…

Tweet

Top Five Himalaya Treks

International trekking guide Andy Crisconi has put together his selection of the top five treks through the Himalaya and shared them with us over at Ekoventure.com. As an adventure travel specialist, Andy has been organizing amazing treks all over the planet for more than 20 years, giving him a unique ability to critique all the best hikes. As you can imagine, his recommendations are all outstanding.

Andy's selections for his top trekking adventures include: 1. The Snowman Trek in Bhutan, 2. K2 Base Camp Trek in Pakistan, 3. Upper Dolpo & the Snow Leopard Trek in Nepal, 4. The NarPhu Valleys and Annapurna Circuit, also in Nepal, and 5. The Zanskar Traverse in India.

Each of these treks offers stunning mountain views, snow capped summits, and plenty of remote spaces. But as Andy himself says, these treks are not about the scenery in the lands that you are hiking through, but the amazing people that live there too. The mountain cultures in each of these countries are unique, friendly, and fascinating, with a spiritual side that gives them a connection to the Himalaya that is unlike anything else in the world. In short, you'll go for the mountains, but the people will have the biggest impact on your journey.

Thanks to Rick over at the Best Hike Blog for sharing this link. I'm with you Rick! I want to make that K2 trek after I'm done with Everest. :)

Tweet

The Great Himalaya Trail Set To Open Next Year!

The Great Himalaya Trail is the subject of my post over at travel blog Gadling.com this morning as well, but wanted to share the details here too. The GHT is a new long distance trekking route that will officially open next February, and will run the entire length of the Himalaya mountain range, connecting up a number of smaller individual trails, to form one giant epic adventure that will challenge even the most experienced trekkers.

All told, the Great Himalaya Trail will run roughly 2800 miles in length, crossing through five countries in the process. Thru-hikers can expect the entire route to require approximately 150 days to complete, as they march through Tibet, Bhutan, Nepal, India, and Pakistan. And if you don't have 5 months to dedicate to walking the longest high altitude trail in the world, fear not. The GHT will be broken down into seven smaller segments, each taking between 18-35 day to finish, allowing travelers on a time constraint to still have a chance to experience its wonders.

The inaugural trek of the GHT is set to get underway on Feb. 15th, 2011. Adventure travel company World Expeditions is organizing the trip, and you can book the entire 150-day journey, or any one of the seven smaller routes with them now. Due to the logistics of the trail, the permits required, and the visas necessary to hike it, it is not recommended for independent trekkers at this time.

As of this writing, the Nepali section of the GHT is the only one that is complete, but the other countries are all scrambling to finish up their routes as well. When it is finished, the route will extend from Namche Barwa in Tibet all the way to Nanga Parbat in Pakistan, crossing through some of the most remote and beautiful places on the planet along the way.

Seems like adventure travelers and backpackers just gained another addition to their "Bucket Lists".

Tweet

I Heart Udaipur

This is the 10th post, so far, about our travels through India and frankly, I feel like I have run out of ways to describe forts, temples and cenotaphs.

It is a short-coming on my part,to be sure, because for all their similarities, each one has something new and unique to offer, but my vocabulary for stone carvings, towering forts and vast views only goes so far. In search of inspiration, I went back and re-read my journal entries for our next destination, Udaipur. On day one, I wrote no fewer than four variations of "I think I am going to like this place".


It is no surprise why I was so quickly smitten. The town has a laid-back, hippie vibe that is unlike any other large cities we visited. Their main "product" is Rajastani miniature painting meaning that instead of annoying textile touts there are annoying art store touts (which are somehow less irritating, to me at least).

Our hotel, the gorgeous Anjani Hotel, was similarly low-key with a rooftop restaurant overlooking Lake Picola and the City Palace (and approximately 99 other rooftops, all of them hosting nightly screenings of James Bonds' Octopussy). The city itself seems custom-made for anyone in possession of a camera. What's not to love about that?

For our first full day, the hotel set us up with Kalu the driver for a tour of the city. He began by taking us to a park known for its prime sunset location and seeing as the views of the lake were pretty spectacular at noontime, I can only imagine what a multi-colored sky would add to the scene. Where I had a problem was in believing the park's signage leading to a "musical fountain".

The stagnant water and runaway mold-problem belied any musicality (much less fountain-cality) but Kalu helpfully suggested that I could return at sunset with a CD player if I would like. I suppose I could also bring a straw and blow bubbles in the water to complete the effect. But I am nitpicking, as I never want to meet the person that goes to this remarkable vantage point solely for a display of musically choreographed water spurts.

Lake Pichola


View from the Sunset Point

Sunset Point Monkey

Next stop was a refreshingly hassle-free stroll through a local fruit and vegetable market. For a town as touristy as Udaipur, I got the feeling that not too many visitors made it out to this area. We received warm welcomes all around without a single person trying to thrust any produce upon us.

The one request I did receive was from a woman with several small children. She wanted me to take their photo, but in lieu of money, she wanted a printed copy of the photo (six to be precise and then she rattled off the list of relatives who would receive them). She took my notebook and wrote down an address that was certain to confound the most diligent of postmasters, so instead of hoping for a miracle, after the tour, I went to an internet cafe that offered photo printing and after ascertaining that I would never in a bazillion millenia find my way back to the shop, had them drop off the printed pictures at my hotel.

With pictures in hand and a game tuk-tuk driver, I returned to the market, and in true tv detective mode, went around flashing my photos, asking if anyone knew where I could find this woman. I eventually did and was warmed by the sight of a very excited extended family (although I counted more than six people cooing at the photos, someone in that group had some disappointment coming to them).

I was also a bit concerned when grandma started getting camera-ready and so I high-tailed it out of there before I got stuck in a perpetual photo taking/ photo delivering loop.

The family and their photos.

But back to the tour, Kalu continued on to the Royal Cenotaphs, which as the others we visited, paid homage to departed personages of the region. There was a sign that unequivocally stated that photography was not permitted, but Kalu confidently assured us that "This is India, anything is possible" and gave us the going rate for bribing a guard (10 rupee or about 20 cents). This particular group of cenotaphs featured more monuments than most of the other we'd visited and had the added bonus of a band and wedding party that was seeking the blessing of one the party's deceased ancestors at a nearby memorial.

The Ahar Royal Cenotaphs

Next on our agenda was Saheliyon Ki Bari, a playground built by the Maharaj for his Maharani and her court. It was small and incredibly charming with five fountains still in operation thanks to some inventive engineering that draws water from the Fateh Lake, which lies somewhere uphill of the park.

I hired an elderly guide who cheerfully explained each plant, bird and flying insect, turning the visit into an unexpected nature experience. He also doubled as a palm reader and photographer, so I left with more photos of myself at the garden than anywhere else in India and also with the knowledge that I have a long life ahead of me.

Saheliyon Ki Bari

Our final stop on the tour was a hilltop monument to Maharana Pratap and his beloved horse, Chetak. Pratap was the 16th century ruler of Mewar (present day Udaipur)during a time that all the neighboring states were accepting Mughal rule.

Pratap staunchly refused and although this meant that his people lived in constant fear of attack, the region was never taken and Pratap today remains a symbol of patriotism and courage, thus landing him some very prime real estate for his memorial with views overlooking the entire city.

After such an entertaining and varied first day, my journal predictions of "I think I am going to like this place" had morphed into "This place f'ing rocks." I didn't even mind climbing up and down the stairs to at least five hotel rooftops trying to find the perfect location to watch 007.

The 1983 movie was shot primarily in Udaipur and now every other store, restaurant or tire repair shop has adopted its name. When I first started seeing signs touting "Octopussy show at 7pm", I assumed I had wandered into the town's red light district, but it was soon apparent that they were all referring to the ubiquitous tv/ dvd combo's that were at the ready should anyone care to see the film.

Our viewing was spiced up with some local flavor as we had to keep to pausing the very weathered dvd in order to let a wedding procession pass on the streets below us, so that it was Bond, wedding, more Bond, another wedding and so on..

The City Palace, which appears in the film, was on the agenda for day two. The House of Mewar, aka the world's longest serving dynasty, run many of the city's major attractions and they do a superb job of it.

They are incredibly well-organized, keep everything in pristine condition and, best of all, offer a day pass that covers not only the Palace, but also a boat trip to the island palace on Jag Mandir, a visit to the Crystal Gallery and another to a vintage car museum. I jumped on the pass, donned an audioguide and spent the first few hours of the days mesmerized by the largest of all the palaces we had visited.

The usual rooms (ie. the hall of public audiences, the hall of private audiences, the women's quarter, etc.) were all there, along with a room dedicated to Maharana Pratap and another to a British officer who wrote the definitive treatise on Raj dynasties (surprising given the very nationalistic tendencies of the region).

There is one courtyard, the Mor Chowk, featuring a collection of peacock mosaics that gave me the impression that I was standing inside of a very valuable jewel box. It is simply so sparkly and shiny and wow (and also devilishly difficult to photograph in the bright sunlight, trust me, I tried...a lot) This undeniable highlight is credited to the Maharana Sajjan Singh, the same man responsible for the massive crystal collection that warrants its own exhibition space, the Crystal Palace in the Durbar Hall.

Singh personally designed all the furnishings for his palaces made of the finest crystal. There is a crystal bed, crystal sofas, crystal hookahs, glasses, dishware..you name it. If there is any question as to how luxurious the life of Mewar's Maharana truly was, this exhibition handily puts it to rest.

Both the palace and the crystal gallery audio guides go to great lengths to describe Singh as a patron of the arts, a poet and an all-around aesthete, providing a marked contrast to his predecessor, the ever-battle ready Pratap (and using many euphemisms that had me wondering if Singh was more Queen than King).

The City Palace

From the bustle of the City Palace, we headed down to the dock to catch a boat ride out to Jag Mandir. The palace located on the island is made of white marble, has a dome and a passing connection to Shah Jahan (he hid out from his father there for some time), therefore earning it all the 'inspiration for the Taj Mahal' descriptors.

But to me, that boast is as unnecessary as all the 007 talk is for the city itself. They are both spectacular enough to stand on their own without having to be known as the Octopussy city or the mini-Taj or whatever name it has been given.

Our boat tour also circled around the ultra-exclusive Palace Hotel (sight of most of the Octopussy shooting) but since we did not leave room for the insane extravagance of a $500 a night room in our budget, we were not permitted entry to the island.

It used to be possible to visit for dinner, but the guests apparently complained of having to mingle with the riff raff in their island paradise, thus banishing us all to gaze at it from the shores (or the boat).

A temple in the middle of Lake Pichola


The view from Jag Mandir Palace

I spent the remainder of the day and most of the next on my new-found quest to find the perfect Rajastani painting. Unfortunately, if I hoped to stay within my price range, I had to content with paintings where either the buildings were poorly drawn or the people had what I called clone's disease, as in the artist only knew how to paint one face and thus if you looked closely, you noticed that an entire wedding procession was peopled by multiple versions of the same guy in slightly different outfits.

I eventually found one woman who was proficient in both architecture and human expression, only she made the odd choice of staging her wedding procession winding past the Oberoi hotel, an anachronistic impossibility since the hotel is of a decidedly recent vintage. Laura gamely suggested I lie and call it the City Palace, where the Oberoi drew its architectural inspiration, but it tormented me.  That is until the shop owner lowered his price to approximately $40 including framing. Suddenly, I remembered my fondness for magical realism in art and now I am the proud owner of a really cool, although historically inaccurate, miniature painting.

On our last evening, Laura and I joined a Russian girl and a Polish couple in a crowded van for a visit to the Monsoon Palace overlooking the city. The palace was originally built as a summer retreat/ hunting lodge for the Maharana but is now in a serious state of disrepair.

Its location as yet another prime sunset spot is what lures Indians and tourists alike. And monkeys. A disconcerting number of brazen langur monkeys walked freely amongst the crowd, picking at discarded food and rummaging through garbage cans. I am still baffled as to how the monkeys in India live in congested cities, are accustomed to accepting food from humans, meaning that they must surely equate humans with food by this point, yet they do not attack people on a regular basis.

Every place I have ever known where people were permitted to feed monkeys has ended up with an aggressive food-demanding monkey population. These monkeys (and others we saw throughout India)were super intimidating by virtue of their size and very sharp-looking teeth but they seemed content to do their thing without leaving a string of casualties in their wake.

We finished off the evening by crossing to the opposite side of the lake, to the Hanuman Ghat area, which serves as the backpacker meeting point. After three days in the city, we were now the wisened veterans and revelled in rattling off all the highlights to a newly arrived Dutch man. Upon hearing us sing the praises of Udiapur, he came to an inevitable conclusion. He stated that he thought he was going to like this city. Indeed!

Monsoon Palace

Tweet