Delhi

(Apologies for the delay - the frustrating breaking of my blog app has made it hard to get on here)

En route to the airport our parents' car broke down, and we stood in an irrigation ditch beside the motorway for 40 minutes, certain of a nasty death. Quite possibly the closest any of us had come to Indian living. Fortunately we made it to the airport, where emoshunal goodbyes abounded.

New Delhi is an odd city of countless roundabouts and wide streets - a stark contrast to the chaos of old Delhi, where the sky is barely visible for the wires dangling overhead. On our first morning we visited the Red Fort, whose name leaves few surprises - it really is (disappointingly) just a red group of buildings, housing sketchy museums. It's a sad shadow of what I'm sure was a fantastic former self - part of the entrance has been transformed into a Westfield-esque bazaar. Lissy's likening it to clapham common summed it up nicely.

Perhaps the saving grace was found outside the fort's walls - a man selling fake beards that were certainly not "100% nylon", and more likely made from the back hair of sweatshop workers. Pitying my lack of facial fauna, lissy bought me one, and as I put it I underwent a Jim-Carey-in-The-Mask-like transformation.

Convinced that bearded me was Lissy's grandpa, a cycle-rickshawer agreed to give us a tour of old Delhi: we choked on the chilli fumes of the spice market, entering a old haveli from whose roof we had great views of the chaos below and a papadam factory. The beard got a mixed reception - I would've been lynched if I hadn't removed it when our cyclist man got into a proper fist fight with a stranger. My dreams of being a united bearded brotherhood were swiftly shattered. We continued on through old Delhi, snaking through alleyways that were truly unique in character - character here meaning an indescribable smell and a constant throng of people and other animals. Dinner was at the amazing Spice Route, a restaurant that took 7 years to build.

We visited Gandhi's memorial museum at Birla house, tracing his footsteps to the spot where he died. Seeing his possessions was quite moving, and the place's peacefulness was pretty fitting. However, the "interactive museum" upstairs was genuinely, totally bonkers, designed only possibly for toddlers on crack.
We chilled out at Lodi Gardens (a haven for blokes holding hands 💘) before eating at the fantastic Grey Garden within the curious Hauz Khas village - a hub of bars/restaus reminiscent of a Mediterranean "strip".

The qutab minar looked decidedly like the tower of Sauron, towering 70m above its surrounding ruins and the goblin-like swarms of schoolchildren. City slickers, we cruised on the fantastic Delhi metro: it's probably nicer than the London version, except during rush hour, when it becomes a hub for bromancing - they just have to hug real close... We relaxed at Humayun's tomb - a squat, red taj - before rickshawing to the Lotus temple. Bizarre. A huge queue snaked into the extraordinary building, which is home to the kooky Baha'ii religion. Fearing brainwashing we rushed off for the last dinner of India.

And then it was the next morning and we were at the airport and India lay behind us - a most incredible country that we'd barely scratched the surface of, as "nothing in India is identifiable, the mere asking of a question causes it to disappear or to merge in something else". Until next time.

With love

Agra

En route to Agra we stopped at a roadside tourist trap complex: nothing of import to note, except that I managed to achieve my greatest haggling feat - reducing an elephant statue from 110,000rp to 55,000rp without saying a word. I think lissy and I, in our boredom, had driven the salesman to insanity by asking him endless "would you rather..." questions and challenging him to a duel with the weapons on sale.

And then we were in Agra, known best for its hotel manager massage service. Of course there is the Taj Mahal, but I can hardly begin to describe it, let alone make any witty comments. I think setting out intentions to avoid using cliches to describe the Taj is, in itself, now a cliche.

We visited it early in the morning to avoid the major crowds - despite feeling rotten my cool new hat enthused me. (see below). Just go and see it - despite the countless times I've seen it in photos etc it really can't disappoint. Unless you're lissy, who observed "it's smaller than I thought". It's hugely, painstakingly constructed, and all the more awesome looking from our hotel balcony in the evening #slummingit. As karma for our embarrassing lifestyle, we all fell fairly ill - my own illness perhaps due to my reunion with steak.

Shout out to the "mini taj" which preceded the big daddy by 15 years and which had been built for the queen's favourite hairdresser - don't get your hopes up Clive...

With love

Jaipur

In Jaipur we were joined by our parents, who'd coincidentally decided to be in India at the same time as us... we didn't really mind, especially as it gave us the excuse to wear ridiculous jewellery (see below) and to stay in a hotel where a beer cost the same as our Pushkar hotel room.

Jaipur was a city with an odd feel, perhaps due in part to the grid-shape of wide streets selling identikit tourist trash. The city palace was fairly decadent - despite the hordes of Korean tourists - and home to two 10,000L silver pots that the maharaja used to transport Ganges water for his use on a trip to England... #gapstyle. Unfortunately the palace is also home to countless snake charmers, and one taking my dad's liking resulted in one of the most uncomfortable photos ever (below).

We visited the Jantar Mantar, the royal observatory, which was a collection of bizarre structures which looked more like odd modern art. Or a skatepark. It was pretty cool to discover that all the instruments were still in working condition and practical, as proved by the clock on my phone... Whilst browsing the 'bazaars' (shocked to see my parents buying more gap trash than me) a rowdy pre-Holi procession passed: opiumed men twirled huge flags and danced wildly behind a van decked in huge speakers, as life continued as normal beside them.

The following day we visited the Amber fort - perhaps the most touristy destination we visited in India, no doubt due to jaipur's being on the "golden triangle". The marble jacuzzis and secret passageways between various wives' bedrooms provided insight into the sweet/scandalous lives of the maharajas: hard to imagine prince Philip acting like that...

With love