Next up, Alipura: a small village of happy folk, cows and dogs at one end, us in a fabulously dilapidated Raj-era palace at the other.
Replete with original fixtures and fittings - bathrooms and hallways, courtyard and dining room - even complemented by a wind-up gramophone, the Alipura Palace was a step back in time, haunting and easy to imagine the lifestyles and habits of the Indian and British bigwigs staying there.
Our guide told us to stay put until we did a village walk in the late afternoon. Bugger that, Kim and I went off and joined the tail of the village festival. Excited kids, tractor boys handing out puffed rice, coy but curious local girls, lots of coloured powder being thrown around, a la the Holi festival, lots of handshakes and selfies given and taken.
The 'official' ramble was an intriguing wander through the back streets. A woman helps her husband dub their new brick wall the cow dung, a man builds a fire to repel the mozzies, or maybe he just likes a lot of smoke - the town has a fragrant pall over it.
People are very poor here. It's another step back in time, but this time real life is still going on.
Our guide takes us to watch the sunset in a small back field with a stagnant well and lots of mozzies.
The festival is clearly getting going elsewhere, and he says 'Oh they'll be drunk, we don't want to go there' But we do! and a cup of chai and a crap sunset by a festering back lot doesn't lessen the fact we think he's too cautious, taking the p*** and may just be a big baby.
To end the evening, we go to the small temple adjacent to the palace where a tiny old priest, attended by a handful of locals, performs his blessing to Durga, Shiva and the various gods.
It is grotto-like, lamp-lit, the floors smooth with the years of prayer.
Not overly taken with the religious aspects of our trip, I am nevertheless moved by the intensity of the occasion.
Some more penthouse and pavement - a lot to see in such small place:
Replete with original fixtures and fittings - bathrooms and hallways, courtyard and dining room - even complemented by a wind-up gramophone, the Alipura Palace was a step back in time, haunting and easy to imagine the lifestyles and habits of the Indian and British bigwigs staying there.
Our guide told us to stay put until we did a village walk in the late afternoon. Bugger that, Kim and I went off and joined the tail of the village festival. Excited kids, tractor boys handing out puffed rice, coy but curious local girls, lots of coloured powder being thrown around, a la the Holi festival, lots of handshakes and selfies given and taken.
The 'official' ramble was an intriguing wander through the back streets. A woman helps her husband dub their new brick wall the cow dung, a man builds a fire to repel the mozzies, or maybe he just likes a lot of smoke - the town has a fragrant pall over it.
People are very poor here. It's another step back in time, but this time real life is still going on.
Our guide takes us to watch the sunset in a small back field with a stagnant well and lots of mozzies.
The festival is clearly getting going elsewhere, and he says 'Oh they'll be drunk, we don't want to go there' But we do! and a cup of chai and a crap sunset by a festering back lot doesn't lessen the fact we think he's too cautious, taking the p*** and may just be a big baby.
To end the evening, we go to the small temple adjacent to the palace where a tiny old priest, attended by a handful of locals, performs his blessing to Durga, Shiva and the various gods.
It is grotto-like, lamp-lit, the floors smooth with the years of prayer.
Not overly taken with the religious aspects of our trip, I am nevertheless moved by the intensity of the occasion.
Some more penthouse and pavement - a lot to see in such small place:
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