As we's heard that the fort was really nice, we broke our 'no more forts' rule and headed up the very steep hill towards the Mehrangarh fort.
On the way, we were stopped by a man who had a large collection of currency from all over the world and wanted some English notes. We get asked this a lot but the smallest English note is quite a few rupees so we're too tight to part from them.
He showed us the guestbook from his hostel, which incuded gems such as: "from Hollywood to Bollywood, the best food is in Thaliwood" and "Uncommonly crispy toast". We decided that some crisy toast would be a real treat and were tempted inside to the rooftop terrace. The toast took ages to come but we passed the time by watching a kid ride his bike around the top of the 4 story building.
Further up the hill, Matt met his nemesis - a man with an even more hair and a very big beard. We discussed the difficulties of transporting such facial hair around India due the the attention that it attracts.
The fort admission included an audio tour and, despite our reservations, it was absolutely fantastic. We spent several hours wandering around and looking at the different rooms and exhibits. There was an extra charge for taking pictures but, since we had expected the fort to look like all of the ther others, we decided photos wouldn't be necessary. Once we were in there though, we followed the crowds also taking sneaky photos and got some great shots.
Back at the hostel, we booked our sleeper bus tickets through Imran and set off into the city to find an omlette man we had heard about, called Vicky. While we were at his stall, he gave us one of the 19 'guestbooks' he has collected over the last 10 years to take a look at. People really do rave about omlettes.
After watching to world go by for a while, we took a wander around the extensive bazarre. There was little hassle and we really enjoyed taking it all in. We even bought more blankets for laying on - something I felt was quite necessary ever since I mopped up a small water spillage on a train seat and noticed the colour of the tissue. These blankets we much more in the lrid style preferred by Indians and were closer to the kind of thing we were looking for before. At about £1 each they were also an absolute bargain.
Back at the hostel again, I spent a little time talking to Imran - we discussed lots of things about family obligation and personal freedom and how his parents desires impact his life and choices. It was really interesting and I've thought about it quite a lot since.
The tuk tuk arrived to take us to the bus station and dropped us off at the booking office for Jain travels. We were expecting our bus to come there but when a tiny little ramshackle bus turned up, everyone seemed to cram on it in Indian style - the fastest and sharpest elbowed wins - and we were left standing. The little bus turned out to be the transport to the big bus and since we only had 10 more minutes until our sleeper, we were a little concerned.
We arrived 15 mins late and there were a number of buses on the wasteland of the tourist bus-stop. Some looked quite spanky and new but we were directed towards one that looked very shabby, battered and nothing like the picture in the shop. In fact, since it was parked next to a burnt our car, we could have been forgiven for thinking that this was the scrapyard section. We needn't have worried about the time though 'cos it was a while before it set off.
The whole thing was nothing short of mental.The buses don't have any names or numbers on so we just have to hope that the bus-driver isn't just agreeing with us when we ask. An answer in the affirmative is characterised by a side-to-side head wobble which we associate more with 'maybe' or uncertainty and that is so deeply ingrained into us we never feel sure anyway.
There seemed to be nowhere to put our bags and so we had to take them on the bus with us, which was quite reassuring until we realised that that meant keeping them in our already rather 'cosy' bed. The double beds themselves were suspended half way up the bus with seats underneath, and were accessed by sliding a window across and climbing in. The opposing window (the one on the outside of the bus) also slid open in exactly the same manner and so it was perfectly possible for it to slide open mid-journey and deposit the sleeper on the pavement at stupid-miles-per-hour. There were curtains blocking a view of us from the inside but none on the outside so we were in full view of anyone who passed by in a similar bus or looked out of a window.
We were still giggling about the whole thing when the bus set off. Almost immediately it stopped again at a junction and we both bashed our heads against the next cubicle. By the time it turned a corner, we were both in stiches as we were rolled over flat onto our faces. Matt tried to sit up again but flung himself back down as the window was hit by a tree and made an almighty crack.
I giggled myself to sleep and somehow slept quite deeply for a while, despite the fact that I had to have my legs curled up due to the bags, the beeping was incessant and it generally felt like riding a bucking bronco. I did wake up at one point really panicked because I realised I'd almost managed to straighten one my legs and therefore at least one of the big bags had gone. When I sat up I noticed that the window on the inside of the bus was open so assumed we'd been robbed. Fortunately not. The window had just rattled itself open on the mountain pass and the bag had fallen out, narrowly missing the bloke on the bottom single bunk on the other side. I felt grateful that it only happened on the inside window and Matt was still safely by my side. I was also pretty relieved that it was dark because the perilous speed and maneouvres the bus achieved would probably have scared us both witless if we could have seen the drop.
We arrived 4.30 am, igonored the touts and taxis as we felt quite smug we knew where the hostel was, and then had to walk for ages looking for it. We had to wake up a man sleeping outside, who woke up man inside , who then checked us in. I went to look at the room as Matt looked over the bags (apparently I'd be the picky one - as if!) but found the man rather strange as he appeared to blow me a kiss so I headed quickly back downstairs and asked to see a different room. I later asked the owner what the gesture meant in case I'd misinterpreted it. He told me 'sweetness'. When I told him that his worker had done it to me, he told me I'd misinterpreted it! Either way, the second room was slightly less stinky than the first and we were tired and unsure of our chances of finding somewhere else so we went to bed and locked the door.
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