When our train pulled into Udaipur, the two men in our cabin started telling us about tourism in India. Jaipur is beautiful, yes, but Udaipur is the most beautiful place in India. Mmm-hmm. We believe you. We read the book. We ALREADY KNOW!

 

What we didn’t already know was just how pretty it would be. Our rickshaw driver took us to our hotel just as kids were going to school; we passed kids in red and white uniforms and girls with long braids tied in circles, so that their droopy braids were held up by perky red bows. I liked Udaipur already.

 

And then we got to the hotel. As the second hotel on the crab-free plan, the Krishna Niwas was even more expensive than we planned, but we needed a place to stay. As we checked in, I sat on a bench, riveted by the paintings on the ceiling. All along the perimeter of the ceiling and the walls were delicately painted flowers in red and blue and gold. The owner of the hotel told us that he painted them himself. I can’t imagine how long it must have taken him to paint every room and the atrium and the stairs, but it was worth it, because the hotel was stunning.

 

And then there was the roof deck. We went up for breakfast, which was brought to us by a waiter at the neighboring hotel. We sat in the scorching sun and ate toast, while looking at the two Udaipur palaces in the lake and the third, perched on a hill. The views only got better at night, when we went to dine twice at the neighboring hotel. On one night, we got there just before sunset, when the sun sank into the distant hills, turning the sky a bruise color before the hotel lights across the canal twinkled on, sparkling in the water. And, during this lovely meal, we ate my new favorite dish, masala papad (pappadum with something akin to our friend Ems salsa on top), and dal makhani and kadhai paneer. And things were good.

Udaipur’s old city was a delight. First, there was so little trash and feces on the street that I could wear flipflops and my feet rejoiced at seeing the sun again. Second, the old city is a maze of tiny alleys and twisting roads, winding around and around. On our first day, we walked around and got lost in the little streets, as shopkeepers languidly waved hello and children ran up to shake our hands and run away. Third, there was no staring in Udaipur. It was like a gift from God. Instead, people were sunny and friendly and the kids were adorable, approaching us and saying Pen? Chocolate? Ten rupees? We had no pens or chocolate and they didn’t look as if they needed 10 rupees, but it was incredibly endearing nonetheless. Fourth, good food in Udaipur. I love you, masala papad! Fifth, great shopping. I bought some cute leather shoes for $5 each. Because they were so cheap, I got two pairs! There were also Ganesh statues everywhere, t-shirts on every corner, and the ubiquitous pashminas. Finally, they had the world’s cutest donkeys.

The bad thing was that we arrived just in time for the wedding of the power minister’s daughter. Rumor had it that they had rented out the entire hotel at the Lake Palace and were being married at the other lake palace, which meant both were closed to tourists. This depressed me until I realized that a wedding costing $20M (again, rumor) meant FIREWORKS! Both weekend nights, we ran to the roof to watch fireworks falling over the City Palace, and then, over the Lake Palace. It looked like a million stars exploding in the sky and I like to think they weren’t for the wedding; they were for us.

As T and I wandered the streets of Udaipur in the afternoons, the power
 to the town was cut for a few hours every day. Shopkeepers would sit
 in the darkened doorways of their stores, all chatting with their
 neighbors and not looking as though they were making any attempt to do any
 work. Kids ran rampant through the streets, playing cricket and chasing
 each other. T and I marveled at the fact that in India, it is not at all
 unusual to have scheduled daily blackouts, and secretly wished that
 things like that happened in America, so we could all chill out and talk
 to our neighbors. It should be noted that the power cuts did not happen
 during the weekend of the power minister's daughter's wedding. For $20M,
 you get electricity all weeekend.

 

Since we couldn’t get into the lake palaces, we decided to tour the City Palace. Before we went in, we sent a few things back to America under the watchful eye of a very bossy postmistress, who informed us that it could take up to a year for the sea mail to arrive. Uh, great.

 

 

 

The City Palace was a disappointment to me. It was a rabbit’s warren of back stairways and dingy hallways with a collection of thrown-together exhibits. Some rooms were lovely, but then they were negated by the narrow, dirty stairs we would have to navigate to escape. However, there were some good views.

 

 

One other noteworthy event happened while we were in Udaipur. I mention it not because I take pleasure in my husband’s pain, but because it was the one time I have refused sugar. We decided to buy some sweets in Udaipur, to see if we could find the delicious halwa we had in Delhi. With the sweets we wanted came some dodgy-looking brown balls that resembled doughnut holes. We tried them, and I took one bite and spent the next 10 minutes trying to wash away the taste of the bottom of a shoe. T finished mine and the other two while I munched away happily on my Cadbury bar. The next day, SOMEONE was sick and for once, it was not ME! Thank you, Jesus.

 

 

 

T, everyone knows you shouldn’t eat food that tastes like poop. It will never end well.