The Pink City Beckons

For much of our three-hour flight to Jaipur, one of the three vertices of India’s Golden Triangle tourist corridor (along with Delhi and Agra), we perused our Rough Guide for hotel recommendations. The process turned out to be more difficult than originally anticipated, largely because we were visiting Jaipur in the midst of peak tourist season.

During a brief layover in Mumbai, the gentleman sitting to our left, Abhinav, graciously offered to help us find a room. By the time we had disembarked at Jaipur airport, Abhinav had made several calls on his mobile phone and secured a room for us at an old-fashioned haveli in the heart of town. We were overwhelmed by his effort and willingness to help us, and were somewhat dumbfounded when he also accompanied us (with his young family in tow) to the hotel to check us in. Our warm feelings over the incident faded in the coming days, however, when we learned that persons accompanying paying guests to hotels in Rajasthan often receive kickback commissions that reach as high as 80% of the room rate. To this day, we still don’t know whether Abhinav’s intentions were honorable or self-interested, or both. As is often the case in India, things are much more complex than they initially appear on the surface.

We took advantage of our first afternoon in Jaipur to find Anokhi, an area boutique known for its excellent, hand-printed clothing, before stopping in for a delicious dinner of pav bhaji and chole bhatura at Jaipur’s best vegetarian restaurant, Four Seasons (not to be confused with the high-end hotel chain). The next morning, we wasted a few hours moving camp to a much cheaper guesthouse across town (the haveli’s price/value proposition left much to be desired). With a room secured, we then proceeded to hire a taxi for the day to take us around town.

Our first foray took us to Jaipur’s eastern suburb of Amer to find a textile designer that came highly recommended from Kaberi’s friend Nomita. Suffice it to say that the journey turned into a real wild goose chase, leading Vik to remark that our affable driver was the kind of guy who would first drive you off a cliff and then try to stop for directions. After a 90-minute effort that included multiple pit-stops to query locals, we found the showroom in a surprisingly-nondescript part of town. Upon arrival, we were disappointed to hear from the office manager, an Indian version of Mr. Magoo, that we needed a prior appointment. After much consternation on our part, Magooji relented and told us that but he would make an exception for us if we returned at 2:00 pm. Kaberi was convinced that Vik would balk at the ridiculous effort associated with giving Magooji our business, but, to her surprise, he had been sufficiently beaten into submission by this point.

In order to kill a few hours before our appointment, we ended up driving to Amer palace. To our delight, we were greeted by a magnificent structure overlooking the desert outskirts of the city. The interior garden and fountain were a surprising discovery and the mirror work in the main structure was mesmerizing. It was a welcome distraction that made us feel better about the effort made to trek all this way.

In the afternoon, we returned to the showroom where Kaberi quickly forgot about the imposed wait and found a number of items that she fell in love with, including a quilt and some curtains. When Magooji indicated that he would only accept cash, Vik was forced to find the closest State Bank of India ATM while Kaberi stood guard over her discoveries. En route back to Jaipur, we stopped at the post office to have our purchase wrapped in a secure cotton sheet for transit. Taking Mejomama’s advice, we decided not to trust the Indian Post, opting instead to lug the package around with us until our return to Delhi.

Our final destination was Jaipur’s famed pink City Palace (“The Pink Palace”) where we cajoled the guard (primarily through the use of embarassingly-poor pigeon Hindi) into granting us entry a few minutes after the official closing time. Jaipur is known as the Pink City for the color taken on by the fortress surrounding the old part of the city at sunrise (although a potentially-color-blind Vik still thinks Jaipur should be called the Orange City). We walked through the grounds of the palace in an accelerated gait, goofily posed with the Royal guards and admired the rich detail of the intricate mosaic work. On our way out, we tipped the guard the price of two tickets (a whopping $0.95 in U.S. dollars) for his indulgence. Before heading back to our guesthouse, we capped our day with another excellent meal, this time at the highly-recommended Copper Chimney.