Many a couple will be spending tonight at posh restaurants, chocolates, flowers, and diamonds in hand. Me and my fella did something extra special this Valentine's Day too- went zip-lining through a centuries old fort, wind whipping across our skin as we enjoyed an exquisitely unique vantage point over "the blue city," Jodhpur.
Aldous Huxley wrote, "from the bastions of the Jodhpur Fort one hears as the gods must hear from Olympus." I would add that from the zipline of the fort, one sees as the gods must!
Patrick and I were both newbies to the sport, and there couldn't be a better place to start. It's run by a British company to European safety standards, and after getting harnessed, we were given a really useful demonstration and practise zip on a short, low line. There were three other Dragomanners with us (seasoned Swiss Sarah and fellow newbies Aussie Wendy and Danny) along with another married couple, from Poland, though Ali was American. We got to zip across 6 lines over the course of an hour, each one more exhilarating than the last, some crossing a watery ravine and all with spectacular views of the blue city from within the fort's walls. The adventure culminated in a 300 metre line- mathematician Armshaw calculated we were zooming along at 36km per hour, though Sarah had to really slow down to prevent taking out an idiot parrot that chose the wrong perch!
After that indescribable start to the day (no, I'll live up to Eddie Izzard's stereotype of Americans and say it was AWESOME like a hot dog), we then spent a few hours exploring Mehrangarh (proper name of the fort) itself. It was founded in 1459 and the audio guide provided more insight, history and stories about little details than I could possibly relate. When I finally get photos off my camera in May, I'll probably be somewhat confused about much of them. For instance, the section of wall still bearing holes from cannon balls lobbed at the fort in the 1820s, or a plaque in Hindi commemorating the person sealed alive in the city walls as a sacrifice to ward off a hermit's curse. Incidentally, part of Batman: Dark Knight Rises was shot at Mehrangarh and Cracked has a pretty cool piece about it- from one of our ziplining points we had a perfect view of the section used in the film (the fort above the pit Batman escapes from). Another sad\horrifying\glad-I-don't-live-in-the-past story was about the sculpture of orange handprints on an arch- it's the mark widows would leave in the wall before being burned on their husband's funeral pyre, supposedly silently. Somewhat less grim were the rooms of palanquins (Patrick and I both resisted the urge to break into The Decemberists' "Infanta" song), miniature paintings, cradles, weaponry, Elephant howdas and more.
From one of the vantage points, we were able to see a massive palace some distance from the city- where Rajistan's current Maharaja, H.H. Gajsinghji II, still lives (alongside tourists, as part of the palace functions as a hotel). He was born in 1948, just a year after India became independent. So what is a 21st century democratic republic doing having a Maharaja? I let the PhD take over from here..
Patrick here. Basically, the British Raj had two types of regions: the Raj proper, governed by functionaries in the name of the Queen, and the so-called 'princely states', which were governed by traditional elites (thakurs, rajas and maharajas) but acknowledged the British monarch as Suzerain. (Good Lord, how I love the stupid language of Empire). When India gained independence, it was really all these territories gaining independence and then choosing whether to join the Republic of India or of Pakistan - going it alone was not an option. And that meant losing the political role these nobles had held for centuries, although not the land the owned.
For the Maharaja, that meant finding some way of reinventing his role for a democratic society (tall order for a kid who is crowned at the age of four), but apparently he's taken to it with gusto. He created a trust to preserve the forts (Mehrangarh being the biggest) and use them to produce an income, turned the majority of his mansion into a swanky hotel (following the lead of many a British toff) and set up a variety of NGOs on issues such as culture and women's empowerment. If the Mehrangarh museum is anything to go by, he's done a good job of it all. Side note: the first income earned was from the selling of bat guano to local farmers!
After our lovely stroll throughout the grounds, we walked down the hill towards Jodhpur proper. Here we found one of the less lovely aspects of India - constant harassment by young men on motorcycles of women not dressed modestly enough for their tastes. Nothing aggressive, but hearing 'hello!' ring out again and again and again, and having motorbikes idle to a stop near you, and seeing the faces of said young men drop when they see a man walking with her gets old quickly. All this because Emma had bare shoulders on a hot day. I've never seen idiots more in need of a nudie mag in my life, and I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.
Idiots aside, we walked for an hour or so through Brahmapuri, the oldest section of the city, before grabbing a Tuk-Tuk to the Clock Tower, where a bazaar marks the center of town. Here we had two masterstrokes of luck: we walked into a small lassi place and had easily the best lassis of my life (they had the taste and consistency of Key Lime Pie filling), and afterwards found the Omelette Man, a figure of myth and legend and Lonely Planet recommendations who goes through 1000 eggs a day making the best Omelettes in India. Emma had heard tell of this man, but had heard he was by the gates of the citadel, so we weren't expecting to find him, and maybe that's why we did! I now know why that rat ran across my foot. I now know why that bull nuzzled me with his head. This was our fate, our Karma, and proof that God loves us. At least until Daisy (the truck, not our kitten) gets jammed in an archway again ...
Aldous Huxley wrote, "from the bastions of the Jodhpur Fort one hears as the gods must hear from Olympus." I would add that from the zipline of the fort, one sees as the gods must!
Patrick and I were both newbies to the sport, and there couldn't be a better place to start. It's run by a British company to European safety standards, and after getting harnessed, we were given a really useful demonstration and practise zip on a short, low line. There were three other Dragomanners with us (seasoned Swiss Sarah and fellow newbies Aussie Wendy and Danny) along with another married couple, from Poland, though Ali was American. We got to zip across 6 lines over the course of an hour, each one more exhilarating than the last, some crossing a watery ravine and all with spectacular views of the blue city from within the fort's walls. The adventure culminated in a 300 metre line- mathematician Armshaw calculated we were zooming along at 36km per hour, though Sarah had to really slow down to prevent taking out an idiot parrot that chose the wrong perch!
After that indescribable start to the day (no, I'll live up to Eddie Izzard's stereotype of Americans and say it was AWESOME like a hot dog), we then spent a few hours exploring Mehrangarh (proper name of the fort) itself. It was founded in 1459 and the audio guide provided more insight, history and stories about little details than I could possibly relate. When I finally get photos off my camera in May, I'll probably be somewhat confused about much of them. For instance, the section of wall still bearing holes from cannon balls lobbed at the fort in the 1820s, or a plaque in Hindi commemorating the person sealed alive in the city walls as a sacrifice to ward off a hermit's curse. Incidentally, part of Batman: Dark Knight Rises was shot at Mehrangarh and Cracked has a pretty cool piece about it- from one of our ziplining points we had a perfect view of the section used in the film (the fort above the pit Batman escapes from). Another sad\horrifying\glad-I-don't-live-in-the-past story was about the sculpture of orange handprints on an arch- it's the mark widows would leave in the wall before being burned on their husband's funeral pyre, supposedly silently. Somewhat less grim were the rooms of palanquins (Patrick and I both resisted the urge to break into The Decemberists' "Infanta" song), miniature paintings, cradles, weaponry, Elephant howdas and more.
From one of the vantage points, we were able to see a massive palace some distance from the city- where Rajistan's current Maharaja, H.H. Gajsinghji II, still lives (alongside tourists, as part of the palace functions as a hotel). He was born in 1948, just a year after India became independent. So what is a 21st century democratic republic doing having a Maharaja? I let the PhD take over from here..
Patrick here. Basically, the British Raj had two types of regions: the Raj proper, governed by functionaries in the name of the Queen, and the so-called 'princely states', which were governed by traditional elites (thakurs, rajas and maharajas) but acknowledged the British monarch as Suzerain. (Good Lord, how I love the stupid language of Empire). When India gained independence, it was really all these territories gaining independence and then choosing whether to join the Republic of India or of Pakistan - going it alone was not an option. And that meant losing the political role these nobles had held for centuries, although not the land the owned.
For the Maharaja, that meant finding some way of reinventing his role for a democratic society (tall order for a kid who is crowned at the age of four), but apparently he's taken to it with gusto. He created a trust to preserve the forts (Mehrangarh being the biggest) and use them to produce an income, turned the majority of his mansion into a swanky hotel (following the lead of many a British toff) and set up a variety of NGOs on issues such as culture and women's empowerment. If the Mehrangarh museum is anything to go by, he's done a good job of it all. Side note: the first income earned was from the selling of bat guano to local farmers!
After our lovely stroll throughout the grounds, we walked down the hill towards Jodhpur proper. Here we found one of the less lovely aspects of India - constant harassment by young men on motorcycles of women not dressed modestly enough for their tastes. Nothing aggressive, but hearing 'hello!' ring out again and again and again, and having motorbikes idle to a stop near you, and seeing the faces of said young men drop when they see a man walking with her gets old quickly. All this because Emma had bare shoulders on a hot day. I've never seen idiots more in need of a nudie mag in my life, and I have a newfound appreciation for what women go through.
Idiots aside, we walked for an hour or so through Brahmapuri, the oldest section of the city, before grabbing a Tuk-Tuk to the Clock Tower, where a bazaar marks the center of town. Here we had two masterstrokes of luck: we walked into a small lassi place and had easily the best lassis of my life (they had the taste and consistency of Key Lime Pie filling), and afterwards found the Omelette Man, a figure of myth and legend and Lonely Planet recommendations who goes through 1000 eggs a day making the best Omelettes in India. Emma had heard tell of this man, but had heard he was by the gates of the citadel, so we weren't expecting to find him, and maybe that's why we did! I now know why that rat ran across my foot. I now know why that bull nuzzled me with his head. This was our fate, our Karma, and proof that God loves us. At least until Daisy (the truck, not our kitten) gets jammed in an archway again ...
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