I was up in a place called Mount Abu last night. It is a hill station where people go to get out of the heat of the summer. At this time of year though, it gets decidedly chilly at night. It seems to be very popular with honeymooners. Maybe so they can cuddle up a lot.
The room I had was pretty shite in reality. None of the others would have been better. The hotel was called the Hotel Maganji and came with mixed reviews in the first place. I decided that unless I wanted to pay a fortune, I’d risk it.
In its favour the location was good, a cheap enough price (though only just value for money) and the Gujarati thali I had in the restaurant was exceptional. Different States have different styles of thalis, even if you are not in that state, which I wasn’t quite yet. More dishes than you could shake a stick at including a glass of buttermilk and a desert. Plus free refills of any part that I wanted until I imitated Mr Creosote from Monty Python (his stomach exploded).
The room was crap. Stained bedding and filthy room. I complained, they cleaned up a bit, changed the bed but it’d be back to ‘normal’ for the next visitor. Everything was poorly maintained but the thing that got my goat, apart from the lacking of the part of the toilet wall adjacent to the corridor thing, was that it had only one sheet and then a blanket. Hence you sleep on the sheet and put the blanket on top of you. Not me, thank you very much. They looked askance when I asked for another sheet. I was expecting bed bugs, but none appeared and I only got bitten three times by mosquitos.
I left early, just as the sun was rising (quite normal for me actually) and made may way down the hill. Snapped a quick photo –
One a bit lower down –
There were plenty of monkeys on and at the side of the winding road. These have very long tails, the last twenty centimetres or so is just hair. So I played a game of ‘Tails of the Unexpected’.
The rules are that I have to drive over that last part of the tail before they realise what I’m doing and jump away.
They won but I came second. Can’t be bad.
I dropped down to the valley and made quick time to the border of the states of Rajasthan, that I was leaving, and Gujarat that I was entering. I needed again to by a state permit for the car. I managed to find the building easily enough because there was a barrier across the road anyway so I had to stop.
I didn’t take a photo of it because there were several police types frowning a bit at me when I whipped my camera out. Better not piss them off, I thought.
The permit for Rajasthan was 200 rupees a day, about 4 US dollars. I told the man I wanted a permit for Gujarat for five days. He said you could only get one for a minimum of seven days. Methinks this is going to cost me.
He filled it out after jotting down all the vehicle details from the paperwork I’d given him and handed it to me to check. I perused it, said it was ok (I had no idea anyway) and I asked him how much.
“Fifty rupees” he said.
I thought, does he mean total fifty or fifty for each day?
If in doubt, my adage is to go for the dumb option. I gave him a fifty rupee note, he took it, wrote me a receipt and bid me good day.
Cheap at half the price. I wonder what the cost of the other states will be.
Whilst waiting for the paperwork several males were nearby dressed normally, obviously curious. One asked, “Where is your driver?” Jeez, this is getting repetitive. I remember in Ethiopia, apart from getting stones thrown at me all the time, people asking me “Where is your guard?”.
I’d reply, “Me. I’m the guard for me and the group (looking sternly at them). I’m good enough. Ok?”
Anyway, I was asked the usual question, “Where are you from?”
“England” I said.
They conferred a little and one said, in allusion to all the Indians in the UK, “You can’t be. You don’t speak Hindi!”
We laughed.
Then they began to get out little passport photos of themselves in their military uniforms and show them to me. It was then that I completed the permit thing so I oooed and coooed over the photos, handed them all back, stood to attention and said “Permission to be dismissed and carry on Sir”
They paused and one said, “Dismissed!” with a smile.
I executed a smart salute and an about turn and marched away to be followed by a chorus of “Left, right! Left, right!”
(NB – I do know how to march, salute etc)
However, I digress. I wanted to call at a couple of places on the way. I’ll do reports on them when I’m at home. It would get too much to try and sort them all out now. I’ll say though that one was here –
And had carvings on it like this –
The other one was similar and was of the architectural style I mentioned a few days ago, but not the observatory.
Whilst I was looking round one a local man with his wife and son stopped me and asked me to take a photo of him, with his camera, and with his family. I said I would and he then took a couple of minutes to arrange his wife and son. Then a couple of minutes to explain to me how to work his camera (it was a point and shoot anyway). On his instruction I took two photos. He took his camera back, activated the rear screen and critiqued my shots. He was unhappy with one of them so asked if I’d take a couple more.
I obliged.
He repeated the review and asked again. I said to him that maybe he ought to take the photos and I’d stay with his family. He replied that that wasn’t the point. I took two more.
He took the camera again, looked and pronounced that they were ok. With a relieved sigh the wife and child relaxed. He thanked me and I said, “You aren’t by any chance a teacher, are you?”
He puffed himself up a bit and replied, “I’m a Professor of Engineering at….” And named a local University.
“Why?” he asked. “How did you know?”
I made some excuse about him looking authoritative and moved away.
Hungry. That what I was next. So I trundled though a couple of villages and spotted nothing but street food that was sweet stuff. I needed something else. I spied set back from the road a small display cabinet outside a small shop that has samosas in it. I stopped, jumped out and walked across.
The several men sitting on the charpois (Indian day bed) outside turned to see who the stranger was. I nodded as I made way through them to the display and pointed and asked that I could have a samosa. These are vegetarian ones with different veg curry mixtures inside. It can be pot luck as to what you get sometimes, but I like them all anyway.
This one was served by being cut up into bit sized pieces with a pair of carpet scissors, put on a paper plate and a squeeze of ketchup added to the side.
As I ate it I noticed the deep fat frying pan was being used set behind him. It was bubbling merrily away and I couldn’t see what was in it. As I finished he picked up his ladle (with holes in, can’t remember what they are called) and began to fish out the contents.
Each one was triangular with a crispy outside.
I had two of them and they were a carbohydrate bomb. After eating them I felt like someone had force fed me lead weights. I virtually waddled away.
What were they?
The samosas were filled with firm potato/cauliflower curry by the way.
These were – imagine making a thick spreadable chilli and mashed potato mixture, with certain spices added, spreading it on two slices of bread to make a sandwich. Cutting it diagonally in half. Then…… then……… dipping it in batter and deep frying it.
Stunning.
In fact I felt stunned for the next hour or so.
It is called a bread pakora. Here is a recipe so you can try it at home. I’m sure you will…………….
www.wikihow.com/Make-Bread-PakoraI said I wouldn’t mention food particulary again but I did.
Near my hotel is a McDonalds. For your information, a chicken masala burger with cheese, a medium portion of chips and a strawberry milkshake costs just under 200 rupees (four dollars or so). Don’t ask me how I know or I might have to kill you and eat you (if I can manage now).
Also, right outside the hotel is a stall selling a million different types of dosa (“…a fermented crepe or pancake made from rice batter and black lentils and filled and rolled”)
I think I’m just going to lie down for a minute and then slip out.
If you don’t hear from me again, donate my body to medical science but remember to take my car back to the hire company in Delhi so I’m not out of pocket.