Marvelous (and at Times, Maddening) India – Part 2

Day 2 in Udaipur

The plan for our second day in Udaipur was a daytrip to two sites that I’d heard were worth the effort—the great Mewar Fortress of Kumbhalgarh and the splendid Jain temple Ranakpur. They were completed in 1458 and 1496, respectively, and both initiated by Rana Kumbha, the ruler of the Mewar region of Rajasthan at the time. We left shortly after 8:30 AM and although only 52 miles away, the drive to Kumbhalgarh was a miserable 2 ½ hours of near-vomit-inducing curves (don’t worry, I always have my handy-dandy throw-up bag nearby) and near-collisions between us and the other aggressive drivers navigating these haphazardly paved, single-lane roads. And not a single lane in each direction—I’m talking a single paved lane for two directions of traffic.  We arrived nauseous and with nerves frayed, remembering why we don’t drive in India very often!

When the car’s wheels finally came to a stop, we did some quick negotiations with our driver regarding pickup, stepped out of our white rental sedan, and gawked at the magnificent scene in front of us. Ahead of us lay a massive walled fortress in what appeared to be very intact condition. Whoa. Nick and I looked at each other with eyebrows raised and laughed. I knew exactly what he was thinking. How is a magnificent structure like this at the end of THAT road, 2 ½ hours from the nearest airport? We continue to marvel at the sheer number of world-class sites in India, most of which make the U.S.’s top architectural sights—like the Lincoln Memorial, White House or Mount Rushmore—pale in comparison. And yet the infrastructure around the majority of these sites lack in clean bathrooms, wheelchair accessibility, close airports, or decent roads. It’s mind-blowing. There is a lot of money to be potentially made at these sites with international visitors if they can make some infrastructure improvements.  All these places we’ve been—Hampi, Ajanta, Ellora, Kerala’s tea estates, Mahabaleshwar, Pushkar, etc…—could be bucket list type places on the covers of Conde Nast with easier access and infrastructure.  Heck, even Agra (Taj Mahal) doesn’t have an airport.  But I digress…

“Thank goodness we’re in good shape,” I said to Nick, wiping the sweat off my brow, as we finished our long slog from the gate to the hilltop fortress. Despite it being 11 AM, we had arrived ahead of most other tourists, allowing us a bit of time to explore in peace—we’ve noticed Indian tourists are not morning people. The lack of crowds boosted our mood, inciting a bit of playfulness in us as we scrambled up and down the stairs and around corners, discovering cool new places. One jutting tower with particularly stunning views really captivated us and proved worthy of several photos. “Our own private tower,” Nick joked as he kissed me in the tower after our impromptu photography shoot. “This place is amazing,” I agreed.

The crowds picked up after we’d been there 45 minutes or so, which hastened our departure earlier than we otherwise might have. We did make it to the roof so we could see the stunning vistas of the Aravalli mountains surrounding the Fort. That vantage point also allowed us to see two other things of note about this place, the birthplace of Udaipur’s king Maharana Pratap and the 16-mile-long fortified wall, second only in length to the Great Wall of China. Quite impressive indeed! There were still 350+ temples we could have explored on the grounds, but we were on a tight schedule so it was time to keep moving.

We were back in the car for another 1 ½ hour drive to Ranakpur on the curviest roads we’d encountered yet. I made it through by closing my eyes and distracting myself with podcasts but it was touch and go with the vomit bag for awhile there…

My initial impression of Ranakpur temple was of an old-fashioned castle with lots of turrets, each flying its own banner. It had a grandiose entry with a wide, red carpet up the center and one could tell it was intricately sculpted, even from afar. We bought our audio guides (well produced and a rarity to find!) and put our shoes on the rack before making our way barefoot up the red, carpeted staircase. Our audio guide informed us that this temple was funded by a wealthy Jain businessman Dharma Shah who had a vision to build a temple in honor of Adinath, the founder of the Jain religion. Ruler Rana Kumbha was on board with the plan and gifted him the land to construct it on.

Despite having 2500 artisans working on it, the temple still took 50 years to build. I imagine it was because of the delicate, almost lace-like carving in many places. An incredible amount of thought and symbolism went in to each component. For example, no two of the 1444 pillars holding the structure up were alike. And the central dome reached an impressive 45 feet high! We appreciated the opportunity to learn more about Jainism and have the chance to admire the artistry of the carvings up close.

The day was wearing on and we needed to hit the road for our 2 ½ hour return trip. After a quick stroll in the gardens, we found a bathroom and were about to enter when a young, beautiful girl of about twenty comes up and pinches my cheeks, saying, “You are so cute.” I was absolutely speechless. Did that really just happen? Who pinches a stranger’s cheeks? And during COVID, of all things?! Oh, but that wasn’t it—of course she wanted a picture with cute, little me. And then her sister needed a picture. And the guy she was with too. And then one of them all together with us.  This is why we don’t do pictures…because there’s always someone else that needs one! It is a strange feeling, indeed, to be seen as a novelty because of your foreignness (read: skin color). I’ve been overseas 12 years and it still surprises me. We found an appropriate break and politely excused ourselves, still agog at all the bold, boundary-crossing interactions we’d had with Indian tourists this weekend. So bizarre! However, I’m also acutely aware that we tend to get better or special treatment at a lot of places for that same reason and it’s not right, but navigating it is tricky. I think the fact that the country has essentially been closed to foreign tourists for the last two years makes our appearance stand out even more. One guy in Udaipur smiled at us and said he and his friends were happy to see us because we were hopefully a sign that foreign tourists are coming back.  I didn’t have the heart to tell him we actually live in Mumbai.

So, as we settled into the car for our long ride home, I reflected on our so-very-Indian day, one full of novel new adventures, unexpected interactions, and moments of immense frustration. It was most definitely a memorable day.

Day 3 in Udaipur

On our third morning I woke up with butterflies in my stomach, knowing that today we’d be doing Nick’s activity of choice, a three-hour bike ride in the countryside villages around Udaipur. I loved the novelty of the idea—definitely something new and different—but worried about the execution in India and the fact that I’d only been on a bike a handful of times in the last 15 years, and never for more than 30 minutes at a time.

At 8:30 AM we stood outside waiting for our guide to pick us up. We were surprised when a burka-clad woman pulled up on a motorbike and a guy—presumably our guide—jumped off the back. Hmmmm. This is odd. Guess we weren’t getting picked up like we thought. But where are the bikes we’re supposed to be riding? “Hi, I’m Gaurav. I’ll be your guide today. Come with me. We will head to my shop to fit your bikes.”

We followed Gaurav on a 15-minute walk into the heart of the old city and eventually turned up a narrow alleyway and stopped in front of his shop. I was pleased to see that his operation seemed organized and professional. The bike options already set out and all looked well-maintained and of good quality. I was also relieved to see that we’d be getting bike helmets. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I got assigned a bike, got my helmet fit, and then Gaurav went over the gears with me. OK, I can do this. Maybe this will even end up being fun.

In my head I’d envisioned us walking our bikes to the start of some nice bike trail nearby and having a quiet countryside ride for a few hours. The reality was the exact opposite; we’d be riding on main roads the entire time, jostling for road space with cars, motorbikes, tuk-tuks and stray animals. I took a deep breath, reminded myself that I was doing this because I loved my husband, said a quick prayer that I didn’t die on the streets of Udaipur and pushed off behind Gaurav. The minute we left the alleyway we entered the morning rush-hour fray. Schoolgirls in prim British-style uniforms whizzed past me on motorbikes. Tuk-tuk drivers signaled their annoyance at my slow pace with a few staccato beep beeps. Only the wandering cows and lazing street dogs seemed unphased by my speed of choice. There was no chance I was going faster. I was wobbly enough as is and the pothole-pocked roads required all my concentration or I’d wipe out before we’d exited old town.

In reality it was only about 10 minutes of riding in the narrow lanes of old town but damn if it didn’t feel like a lifetime. When we crossed a major street and meandered onto a lakeside bike lane, I finally allowed myself to relax. It really was quite a beautiful city. The sun was out, the temp a perfect 70 degrees and I had lake views on both sides of me. We took our first break near a garbage heap where a family of pigs were fighting over scraps. In 2018 when I first got here, this would have really grossed me out but in my veteran state of mind I simply found myself craving some nice delicious bacon.

We pushed on, finally leaving the city proper and entering our first village. I wouldn’t describe it as cute, per say, but it did have a different vibe than the city and the benefit of sweet children smiling and waving at us. By the 90-minute mark we had reached Tiger Lake, our turn-around point. My butt was aching big-time by now and I happily welcomed the 30-minute snack break. The bananas, biscuits and ginger tea totally hit the spot, especially when combined with the beautiful, peaceful setting. Too bad we had to get on our bikes again…

I was promised an easy, all downhill route home. I sure hoped so because otherwise my bottom wasn’t going to make it. My gel seat cushion was no longer providing sufficient padding, so I pulled on some army green men’s bike shorts of Nick’s over my capris to capitalize on the extra padding. Sadly, it didn’t make much difference.

The aggressive drivers continued to pass with just inches to spare, startling me each time they honked their horn to communicate that they were passing. I was so over this and getting very crabby. Everything hurt and we still had 45 minutes of biking to go. Unfortunately, there really was no option but to keep pedaling. Breaks just prolonged the end and I was eager to get off this damn bike for good. Even my husband, who loves this kind of stuff, looked over it. And so I put my head down, dug deep for my last energy reserves and kept moving, despite the insufferable pain in my legs and bottom at this point. I found that silently cursing my husband improved my spirits.

We eventually re-entered the city proper and I realized that we were about to bike past our hotel and then go through the narrow lanes of old town again. F that. This girl is done. I motioned for us to stop in front of our hotel sign. “I’m done,” I said. My boldness surprised me. 13 years of marriage to Nick had changed me. When you’re done, you’re done. No questions asked. “I can either wait here for you to come back and get my bike or I can put it inside the hotel and you can get it later,” I continued. Nick took this opportunity to jump on my bandwagon, letting them know he was done too. Gaurav was very kind about our insubordination and decided that the best plan was for he and his assistant to each walk two bikes back. That worked for me.

We bid them goodbye and plodded up the last little hill to our hotel. We collapsed on our bed, grateful to be done. “That was hard,” I commented. “I know,” Nick replied, “I appreciated you sticking with it. Meant a lot to me.” “No more countryside biking in India please.” “Agreed.” It was only 12:30 but we were spent. After showering we grabbed a quick lunch in town, swung by a small museum and temple we hadn’t visited yet and were back in bed by 4 PM. “Sarah, I’m not leaving the hotel until the car comes to pick us up tomorrow at 11:30 for the airport. Got it?” I didn’t have the energy to fight him, even though I felt guilty throwing away a whole evening and morning of potential sightseeing. But I got where he was coming from. I was wiped out too. If only there was a way to experience India without the frustration and exhaustion that come from the masses of people, inadequate infrastructure and different standards of living. I guess those are the trade-offs though and at the end of the day I’ll take the frustration and exhaustion knowing that I get to experience something unique that expands my worldview.