Long weekends

Monday was Independence Day in India and so a precious long weekend holiday. While the expectation is you are available to work from home even then, most Delhites use this opportunity to flee the city. We were no exception.

My recently acquired 'Outlook Guide to Weekend Breaks from Delhi' cites many hill stations, temple towns and general places of interest that are within reach of Delhi. Whether for a weekend, I am rather uncertain. 4.5 - 9 hours seems to be the travel time range they have applied. It raises questions as to what there actual is between Delhi and the 'nearest' places 4.5 hours away, but also underlines the sheer scale of the country.

We opted for Jaipur. Quoted as 4.5 hours away it actually took us 6. As for what was in between, after Gurgaon there wasn't much apart from a couple of small towns causing traffic congestion on the highway at intervals, and green open space with tall brick kiln chimneys. Perhaps a field trip option for sustainability professionals - the industry is one of the worst offenders for child labour, and in need of urgent addressing.

We were accompanied by a former German colleague from GIZ and together the three of were looking forward to exploring the 'pink city' as Jaipur is known. It was already early evening by the time we arrived (or 'reached'). After check in we went for dinner at a lonely planet recommended establishment at the Pearl Palace Hotel. It was a culture shock after being in an Indian environment for so long to be thrown into the travellers bubble. I felt a certain amount of discomfort and also was unimpressed by the inappropriateness of the clothing given the local norms....

We ate and sheltered until the monsoon rain had passed and then decided to catch a hindi flick at the cinema, an Indian experience Christoffer was yet to have. It was soon apparent that the local cinema was something of a tourist attraction in its own right.

Rajmandir is an impressive a single screen cinema building built in the 70's in art moderne design laced with green neon lights. We queued outside to buy tickets for Aarakshan, the latest high profile and controversial bollywood release focusing on the caste reservation policy in the education system. Being a women sometimes has its advantages and the ladies ticket queue was half the size of the men's. A grand entrance hall with a sweeping staircase and chandeliers greeted us when we entered.

While knowing hindi helps in watching a hindi film, the over dramatised nature means you can pretty much get a sense of what's going on. We enjoyed the audience interaction - the gasps and the cheers when the baddies and goodies faced off. The affectionate sighs when heart throb the gorgeous Saif Ali Khan is trying to woe his girl.

Then we felt a funny furry thing brush past out feet....and our interest in the film waned. Our suspicions were confirmed when during the interval Tristram saw a rat scurry through a hole in the wall behind where we were sitting. urghhh. At this point we called it a day.

As we left we got chatting to a young man, perhaps only 18, about his coloured threads adorning his wrist. Saturday was a religious holiday Raksha Bandhan or Rakhi, which a colleague described as 'brothers day'. It celebrates the relationship between brothers and sisters and as wikipedia explains 'involves the tying of a rakhi (sacred thread) by a sister on her brother's wrist. This symbolizes the sister's love and prayers for her brother's well-being, and the brother's lifelong vow to protect her.' It's not just immediate brothers or sisters but also extends to cousins and in some exceptions very close male-female friends. The man had 9 threads. 3 real sisters and the rest cousins. "It's expensive. I had to buy them lots of presents - new clothes. I spent 1000 rupees which is 20% of my salary!" I'll have to tell my brother that in exchange for the thread I have waiting for him in Delhi, I'll be waiting for some expensive gifts in return.

Our Sunday was spent exploring the cities main sights. By far the most impressive was the Amer Fort on the outskirts of the Jaipur. It's apparently a blend of Hindu and Mughal Styles and was built by Raja Man Singh 1 in 1592. The best was saved for last though and on Monday we enjoyed fine views of the cities of Amer and Jaipur, as well as the surrounding countryside from Jaigargh Fort. We were also entertained by the monkeys playing on the ramparts before the long ride back to Delhi and the prospect of another long weekend next week.

My anthropology degree is supposed to qualify me in at least recognising the species but alas that was far too long ago. Given there are 260 different species of monkey I think I can be forgiven. On revising my primateology I think what we saw were probably gray langurs (right) and also a rhesus macque (left). Both of which looked far healthier than the cheeky monkeys in Jangpura.

The Horrors of House Hunting

House hunting is never fun. Tales of being gazumped, cheated and generally mistreated by unscrupulous estate agents are told by even those friends who have taken the plunge and bought their own property (an experience that should be the most rewarding transaction emotionally if not financially of ones life). After the criminal landlord extorted money from us in Holland, we thought that we'd had our fair share of horrors on the house front. Perhaps the subsequent luxurious flat through the housing corporation back in Amsterdam means that we're once again due some drama.

Let's rewind one week to our initial explorations of the Gurgaon property market. On our first day in the city that's still being built, we popped into Mr Goel's Estate Agency to see what he had on his books. We were ushered into the empty room with exception to a bespectacled elderly man seated behind a table with the classifieds section of the paper open in front of him. We explained our requirements (two bedroomed, maximum 30,000 INR per month) and were met with a pregnant pause before the agent, without responding or even looking at us, made a call on his phone. A stream of hindi flowed and he engaged in a lengthy discussion with the recipient. On hanging up he then gave us a fleeting glance and said:

''There's nothing".

"In the whole of Gurgaon?" we questioned.

Ok, so were foreigners and expect to be fleeced at every opportunity but this seemed like a tall story.

"There may be one" he conceded unconvincingly. "Have you conveyance?"

"err...conveyance? Transport? A car, is that what you mean?...I'm afraid not. Can we walk?".

He indicated 'wait' with a nod of the head and twist of the wrist. Shortly after, a younger agent appeared clutching a motorbike helmet.

"Come' he ordered.

So we followed them outside to the two motorbikes parked in front.We stared at them and each other nervously. Even on the flat smooth tarmac back home wouldn't we even go on the back of a motorbike, let alone without a helmet. A deep breath and we then clambered onto the back before a bumpy ride down the lanes parallel to MG road.

We were greeted by a white kurta pajama wearing man, perhaps pushing his 70's outside a standalone villa on a quiet street. He spoke in oxford style English with a classy Indian lilt and impeccable manners. He gave us a welcome that made up for the previous disinterest by the estate agent. We were shown into his spotless home and upstairs to the apartment above.

"I live on the ground floor with my wife and we have two flats to rent on the floors above. 'I built the place for my children, you know, but they prefer to stay elsewhere." He sighed. "India is changing, its not what it used to be."

We were shown what looked on first glances as a great property, including a shared basement space 'where you can rig up a net and play badminton'. I felt a little uncomfortable though when he showed us the open roof and indicated 'this is where your servant can put up'. It was only on a second look we realised the flaw in the design (and location). A light shaft had been built through the centre of the house, essentially meaning there was an inner balcony from each living room directly looking down into the other flats. We wouldn't just be renting a flat from him, we'd be actually living with him...

Politeness meant we had to feign continued interest as the prospective landlord proceeded to interview us in his ground floor residence. We were served cold water on a tray by his helper. A short aside - it seems in most homes you visit water is served to guests in this way.

"What do you do? How long have you been married? What do your parents do? Do you eat veg or are you non veg?". A flurry of questions ensued, more extensive than my recent job interview (although the parental occupation and marriage questions were also part of that too....)

He went on to emphasize the importance of maintaining his high standard of cleanliness if we were to live there and set out the other ground rules.

"We're strict Hindu's so no beef in this house and please no cooking fish either. I myself don't eat eggs but that's ok, you can."

Then he changed gear to the hard sell.

"I'm politically well connected, and called to the Bar in Delhi. I still work in the supreme court," he explained setting out his credentials.

This explained the large framed portrait of Indira Gandhi on the bookshelf.

At the end of the conversation, we eventually got to the price. It was hard to remain convincing knowing we were not intending to take the place. We stated our limited and he stated his price. Not surprisingly 5k above what we were suggesting. Conveniently he then 'took a call' mid negotiation from another party who he went on to explain were interested and on the verge of accepting the place. We left by saying we'd think about it and beat a hasty retreat.

What followed were numerous replays of the same, with varying characters of landlords. The journalist who said if we were to agree to live in his place he'd want to see the marriage certificate; the retired IIT physics professor who complained at length about his current tenant and gave us the spiel about how he paid his taxes but then asked us for a portion of the rent in black; and now to our actual landlord who locks the gate at 10.30pm every night who we have to call if we want to come back later and won't let us go away at weekends without informing him.

While there is more I could recount about out current abode (see picture - top floor) - prudence suggests it may be better to wait until we vacate. For the time being we 'stay' in Saket (near the PVR complex rather than by Select City Walk, the upmarket mall). There's a spare room and the visitors book is lying open awaiting your stay!