Exploring the Fort

Breakfast was 5 Rupees. That's what the note says. A little more interesting might have been a note of exactly what breakfast might have been, but there is no mention of it.

The cold I had picked up had gone to my chest and I was coughing. The cold had actually made me partially deaf in both ears. My note says "cough medicine" and I assume that I bought some at a pharmacy. Again, no mention of the the brand. It was probably a brand that seemed familiar. There were a good number of very familiar (if a little old fashioned) brand names everywhere.

We then explored the fort and at one entrance came across Sri Hari Bawhani and his peculiar instrument. A few posts earlier than this one there is a slideshow video accompanied by Hari's "very nice Rajasthani music". The recording was not made on this first encounter.

My notes say "look round fort" "see tailors" and "8th July". I always seemed to be seeing tailors. I was looking into the making up some shirts again. The rolls of fabric/material that shirts are made of is called "shirting'. Somehow or other the word seems peculiar and amusing. It shouldn't because words such as "sheeting" as in plastic sheeting or "skirting" as in skirting board are quite familiar English terms. The word "shirting" just tickles me and it always puts me in mind of the word "trousering" used to describe someone getting some financial windfall/advantage and keeping it. Then again the word "pocketing" could also be used for the same action. I doubt that the fabric trousers are made of is called "trousering" but I stand to be corrected. If pockets are made of a special material, is it called "pocketing"? Probably not.

The reference to "8th July" is a reference to a restaurant/café called "The 8th of July'. As I recall it was very small but today it is probably much bigger and smarter, perhaps it is even a WiFi hotspot or something. Then it was small place with a good write-up in the Lonely Planet Guide as being somewhere that some home comforts could be obtained. It is strange what people crave when they have been away from home for some time. The 8th of July was a place that Australians could get Vegemite on toast if they wanted. It had Marmite too. I didn't have either. My notes on this visit don't say what I had.

Alighting at Jaisalmer

Everywhere you go on the touristic trail in India you have to be careful about aggressive touts and rickshaw drivers. In Delhi the competition for trade was cut throat. There is always someone willing to act as your guide or take you somewhere that you should really visit. There was (I'm afraid) never an occasion when I received any information or guidance without there being a financial incentive for the giver either from me directly or by way of a commission from whoever's shop I ended up in. You learn to put up with the hassle, to shrug it off.

Arriving in Jaisalmer was different. The train's arrival meant a whole new crop of tourists would all be arriving at the same time. As you step out of the station the sight before you is amazing. I know that I am not the only person who has experienced this. Other people have related the same story since. I think Robin and Donna (my brother and sister-in-law) experienced the same when they visited a couple of years later.

As you exit the station there in front of you is an enormous crowd of hotel touts, rickshaw and auto-rickshaw drivers all yelling and screaming to get your attention. Every one of them desperately wants your fare and the desire is physical. The intensity of the competition for your trade is so great that there would be a real risk that you might get torn apart by competitors. The risk is nullified because the baying mob is held back by Policemen wielding that peculiarly Indian tool of crowd control - the lath, a stave about 6 feet long and perhaps an inch or slightly more in thickness. A fearsome weapon.

Somehow or other we all got a ride together and ended up in a hotel called The Pushkar Palace. Our "room' was a structure erected on the flat roof of the hotel and was basically 4 single beds in one long room. It was cool (in both senses) and it was cheap.

Jaisalmer

The above video is an experiment. It's an iPhoto slideshow exported to Quicktime and then uploaded. If it works then I may have to go back and make some more. The music was recorded live on the recording walkman that I took with me. It is being played by Hari Bawhani on that strange looking instrument. To add atmosphere you can hear some tourist or other saying "excuse me, please!" and on more than one occasion the sound of a motor scooter going past with the rider sounding his "horn'. Right at the end of his performance the bells fall off the bow and Hari brings it to a conclusion with his own assessment: "Very nice Rajasthani music!". It was very good and I'm glad to be able to present it to the world now.

Transit in Jodhpur

The train pulled in to Jodhpur about 3.00pm the next day and the connecting train to Jaisdalmer was only a few hours later. I decided there wasn't a great deal of point in trying to see anything of Jodhpur in that time and spent the afternoon in the Refreshment Room drinking Chai and reading. While there I met three girls traveling together called Mandy, Imogen and Grace. They were headed to Jaisalmer too. They were all good fun and the time passed quickly before we all boarded the overnighter to Jaisalmer.

To Jaisalmer, Rajasthan via Jodhpur

The notes I took in my filofax thing are really very bad. They weren't written with this kind of thing in mind. Why I wrote them at all when they are so woefully inadequate is questionable. For instance, the whole of the next day, Wednesday 7 November 1990, is blank except for a note towards the bottom of the page, sometime after 6.00pm, which says "Out to Jodhpur". This doesn't jog my memory about the day very much. I must have done something but what it was is now consigned to the deeper recesses of my mind perhaps never to re-emerge or perhaps only to resurface when most of what I do from minute to minute is hard to hold in my memory.

The train was a sleeper. Most of the journeys I took were overnighter's. I must have said that it saves on a hotel room and you achieve something, namely onward progress,even as you sleep. To a certain extent taking overnight trains is unavoidable. They don't set off on journeys such as Delhi to Jodhpur in the morning. It would mean traveling through the heat of the day which would be uncomfortably hot for most passengers and a waste of a day's light.

Did I mention the unique signs that you find on the platforms of Indian railway stations? It is honestly something that has stuck with me ever since. They have the most sensible station information sign you might ever encounter. The sign says "This train will not leave before..." and a time is inserted. It was certainly comforting to know that there was never a need to worry about the train leaving before the appointed time of departure. What the signs don't say is exactly when the train will leave. On this occasion because of derailment somewhere up the line the train was 5 hours late in departing! Never mind I had probably fortified myself with a souvenir from Kashmir and the blue bench seats in the very spacious First Class compartments were comfortable enough. There were reading lights and if I wasn't writing a letter or postcards I was probably reading. One of the things that I might have done earlier in the day was visit a book shop in Connaught Circus. I've reviewed (and edited slightly) the foregoing posts and can't see a mention of buying books but I certainly did get a handful of paperbacks. I seem to recall that they weren't very cheap. They were a collection of Oscar Wilde's stories, A Passage to India by E M Forster and a book of Kafka short stories. Perhaps they sound a bit worthy or dated. Perhaps I should have been reading Midnight's Children. I am sure I tried once and found it too stodgy to digest.