"My first thought was, "Oh, shit – it's Kathmandu Lite!"
From the crowds of hungry taxi drivers outside the train station, ready to pounce to
the narrow streets with cows eating piles of garbage off the sides of the road and
street corners, I had to remind myself that there's a reason why people talk dreamily of
Jodhpur and Rajasthan in general – and it can't be this, so it must be something ahead.
After all, with a few rare exceptions in Europe, train stations are rarely in the best part of
town.
The roundabouts had small stores all selling the usual Indian and Nepali small store
items – cookware, stationery supplies, packaged snacks, clothing – and it was all kinda'
dingy.
My one real positive in the initial impressions was that the cows looked very nicely kept
and healthy. I feel that the presentation of cows tells you a lot about a society – it's a
theory I developed on my first trip to Bali. If cows can be gorgeous, they are in Bali
where they seem to say "Moooo…look at me, I'm a beautiful cow…moo……"
As our auto-rickshaw which was heavily weighed-down with our giant backpacks that
barely made it into the same vehicle with us – made its way through the town, the
streets became windier and narrower to the point where vehicles had to pull over to
let one another through. This was a major advancement over Kathmandu where both
vehicles continue and either miraculously pass, or get stuck and back-up. At one point, I
thought our taxi was going to tip over into an open gutter, but it somehow pulled out.
The buildings started changing from dingy brown to a rich blue as we drove – which
meant we were getting to the old part of town. Then we pulled up in front of our guest
house. The driver the hotel had hired to fetch is rang the bell of the front gate and in
a minute, the giant metal gates burst open and three short men sprung forth to fetch
our bags and see us to the front desk. One looked a bit overburdened with Emily's big
backpack, so I decided I should take mine – I didn't want these nice little guys injured
from our bags.
We entered the gates and went up the steep steps of the Haveli – a giant Rajhastani
home of the kind that royal family members and government ministers used to have. At
the top, Arphan was waiting for us. Arphan who is about our age and his older brother,
Darphan turned the family Haveli into a hotel.
Their grandfather was the defense minister for the Maharaja back when Rajasthan was independent. The "house" was a gift from the Maharaja and has decor and craftsmanship to fit. Most rooms are suites and the amazing ceilings and decor are indeed fitting for a minister of the Maharaja.
When the brothers realized that they hated school and would prefer to be
entrepreneurs, they took their family by surprise. Generations of the Singhvi family had
served the Maharaja in high posts or had important professional positions. Running
a business wasn't an option anyone would have considered.
They were even more surprised when their sons said they wanted their business to encompass the family home. But there were just seven of them living in this giant, palatial home and they
could make some rooms available while not inconveniencing the family too much.
While the idea of opening their home to strangers mildly horrified Darphan and Arphan's
parents, they supported their sons' dreams and the small guesthouse began. Within
a year-and-a-half, the business had taken off and more rooms of the Haveli were
annexed. The garage and horse stables in the courtyard were removed and some
renovations made the place a little more hotel-like. Lonely Planet and other guidebooks
came and made them famous. A success was born.
A few years ago, the family moved out completely and bought a newer, more modern
house in the new area of town. The entire Haveli's 13 suites and rooms are now for
guests while the roof decks are restaurants and bars with sweeping views of the blue
city and the giant fort.
The Maharajas the Singhvi family served color-coded their cities. Each Rajasthani city
is painted all one color – Jodhpur is blue (my favorite). Each city also has at least one
palace so the Maharajas could rule in comfort from whichever city they deigned to visit.
Jodhpur's palace is inside the ancient fort at the top of the hill – just outside our window
and practically touchable from the roof.
When Arpan opened the giant metal and glass doors to our room, we thought we were
heading into a lobby leading to some other room. It's enormous. We took the "family
suite" because it's near the front desk and therefore gets good WiFi . The fact that one
of the best rooms in the house cost just under $30 a night made getting some extra
space a no-brainer.
Our suite is easily the largest room we've had in our travels. A sofa,
two arm-chairs and a coffee table make up a sitting area while past that is a sort of
Rajasthani rival one could use as an extra bed. I think of that divan as my new office.
But there's also a wooden desk and chair for Emily.
For the first time, we have two large wardrobes and can separate our belongings. The
bathroom is enormous – although I feel a little alone in there without a frog and slug.
With an enormous vaulted ceiling, seven windows Rajasthani arches and accents, we
feel like we're living Maharaja-style. Of course, the giant metal and glass double doors
to the room which clang open and shut add the finishing touch which has me feel like
posting guards at the entrance and hiring a Lord Chamberlain.
We dined on the roof-top restaurant underneath a clear, desert sky in the air that started
off warm and dropped to cold as the evening progressed. Rajasthan is mostly desert
to the west of Delhi. Daytime temperatures reach about 73 F, while nights drop into the
low 50s and even upper 40s. We've decided we either need a portable heater or more
blankets for our cavernous room.
Although we haven't yet visited our subjects in the world outside, I can tell from
observation and the noises outside that this isn't anything like our Keraleeyam. This isn't
Mumbai either. This is a world of long, loud, wailing prayers, screaming children and even angry, yelling camels all set to the backdrop of motorcycles and two-stroke auto-
rickshaws. We're in northern India and things are going to be different. My tropical heart
sighs.
Nonetheless, today we venture forth from the Haveli in search of Rajasthani glory,
camel milk chai and Blue. Let it all be glorious, royal Blue….
