People watching

Walking around this morning, looking for a camel-cart to photograph, Lizzie gets a load of hassle off two young boys who follow us. She tells them to go away a couple of times but they follow and keep pointing and touching her. I sense we’re walking into the wrong part of town and they are very persistent. I let my annoyance turn to rage for the first time in the holiday and grab one of them by the arm. My comment of “Oi! Wanker. Piss off” is probably not a fully recognised international negotiating phrase but it seems to do the trick and they run off laughing. It feels good but they were probably only having a bit of fun.
I decide to have my shoes mended. My boots have been with me all over and when the sole thinned last time, a little man in China managed to fix them nicely with some old tire rubber. Now a little man in India gets to continue the good work. He files down the sole, cuts a rough piece from some rubber and applies glue. Then he sits and fans himself while it hardens. All the while he sits on his haunches – a position which any of us would find very painful very quickly. Then he nails the new piece in place and sands the edge to match. A perfect job. Except that when finished he decides to give the boots a good old polish as only Indians know how. I try to point out to him that the boots are actually suede leather but I have trouble communicating this so I watch, devastated, as my precious boots get turned burgundy coloured and as shiny as patent leather. Thinking only of where to take them to get them dusty as quickly as possible, I pay him and we leave. I spend the rest of the day feeling like some clean-cut Austrian hiker in dancing shoes.

Having my shoes mended

Trying to get back to the hotel, we enlist the help of an auto-rickshaw driver. He offers us a price of 40 Rs which is way too high, so we move down the line of queuing drivers and auction them off against each other. This is real Capitalism – true market forces in action. When I have been pulled and tugged towards different vehicles enough times, we settle for 20 Rs, leaving the first man looking disgruntled and rapidly rewriting his pricing policy. An amazing contrast to our first day in Delhi.
Later we board the train to Jodhpur, sorry to leave Jaipur behind. The train is stuffy and cramped and four and a half hours seems to take an age. When we arrive the streets are dark, unfamiliar and sinister. In addition our chosen hotel is booked out and it is raining. We finally get a place in a nearby hotel, the Soner, which isn’t the lap of luxury but once we’ve got rid of the cockroaches isn’t bad. Sleep in a DEET Mosquito Repellent-induced heatwave.
We don’t intend to stay long in Jodhpur (blue city – everything is blue) because there’s not a lot to see. There is even less to see when we discover that the magnificent fort is closed for the day because they’re making a film. So we settle instead for a day out in the stinking heat shopping for cooking accessories, followed by an escape on the late night sleeper to Jaisalmer (golden city) tonight. I buy some souvenir copper-bottomed cooking pots which I’ve always wanted. We sleep the afternoon off – tiring heat – and end up in a small restaurant for dinner with a large group of Italian tourists all trying to order Spaghetti Bolognaise. I just can’t believe it.
The train has the smallest beds ever designed. My feet and ankles are in air. It is also incredibly hot. It is midnight and yet my shirt is sopping wet. I sleep surprisingly well despite this though and the journey is over by 6am before I’ve even noticed. Sleeping is definitely the best way to travel.

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