**If you’re looking for accompanying photos, you’ll always find them here.
Our 8-hour train ride from Ahmedabad to Jodhpur came with an unexpected cabinmate: a huge white Persian cat named Lela. Technically a stowaway, since cats (or, indeed, pets) aren’t allowed in the carriage we were in, the passenger in the berth opposite us was bringing her from Ahmedabad to Jodhpur (his hometown) for a vet appointment, but kept her hidden away for most of the journey. We chatted amiably through the journey, didn’t mind when Lela was let out to stretch her legs and attempted to help me write my blog post by climbing on the keyboard, and swapped contact info with our new friend’s human so that we could get together for a drink while in the city.
Our arrival in Jodhpur marked our first stop in the royal state of Rajasthan – a region known for its maharajas (and maharanis), its fortresses, and its penchant for invasions.
Jodhpur certainly makes a first impression. Thankfully, our guesthouse made an entirely different one. We stayed at Raj Mandir Homestay, a beautiful haveli (a heritage home built around a central courtyard) so reminiscent of a Moroccan riad in both design and style that I had to repeatedly remind myself where we were each time I forgot. We’d gotten a really great deal on the rate and were so thrilled with the room that I messaged friends to share my excitement – an actual shower curtain for the first time in two months! For a few days, we’d get respite from having to remember to take the toilet paper out of the room to make sure we didn’t get it wet while showering (and then also remember to return it to the bathroom afterwards). The guesthouse had a restaurant on the rooftop, where we enjoyed a snack and a cocktail (how novel!) while soaking in the views out to the fort and across the rooftops of India’s Blue City. We were instantly charmed.
The streets of Old Jodhpur are narrow and so brimming with sound that they make Ahmedabad feel peaceful in comparison. The narrow laneways mean that cars are a rarity but the driving, when you spot one, is truly a marvel – and I don’t mean that in a complimentary way. Instead, we spent our first night walking the narrow roads and dodging autos, motos, bikes, cows, dogs, donkeys, telephone poles and countless piles of animal substances that ran the full spectrum of the states of matter from our elementary science curriculum. Rich tested his navigational skills while I tested my ability to keep myself alive and unscathed.
We also noticed countless cafes, shops and restaurants catering to foreign clientele and spotted more tourists than we’d seen in about two weeks. We were clearly entering a different phase of our Indian travel experience.
On that first evening in the city, I stopped briefly at a pharmacy to grab some cough syrup in the hopes of ridding myself of a wracking cough that had been settling in for several days and kept leaving me gasping for air. I dosed myself, felt immediately optimistic, and we set our alarm in prep for a morning run. Within 20mins of leaving on our morning outing, the realisation that my optimism was hopelessly misplaced had firmly settled in, but I tried to convince myself that the effort was a useful exploration of the city’s outskirts, and that our little foray into fence-jumping before watching the sun rise over the Mehrangarh Fort made it an adventure (which, given our general location, was obvious…). Plus, I now had an excuse to enjoy a hearty breakfast at Raj Mandir once we got back – but it was now clear that I wasn’t going to be running again for a couple of days, at least.
Our first full day in the city was spent getting acquainted with Jodhpur, starting with Mehrangarh Fort. Spoiler alert: I’d count it as good from afar but far from good, although we may have had restricted access because a billionaire’s daughter was getting married there that weekend and they were setting everything up. The best views felt like they were from the outside, not the inside. We spent most of the rest of the day wandering the streets, visiting the city’s peaceful main stepwell, and enjoying spotting various corners awash in the city’s signature shade. Given Rich’s love of the colour blue, it was both coincidental and comical that his clothing choice for the day was particularly on theme and I caught myself laughing on more than one occasion as he seemed to blend into his surroundings.
As we walked past some samosa stalls that we clearly extremely popular with locals, we grabbed a couple (along with a large chilli that was stuffed, battered, and fried) as a walking lunch and notched up a third regret for the day.
The samosas we’ve been eating are triangular pockets of deliciousness: crispy dough typically filled with potatoes and peas, laced with varying quantities of onion, cumin and chillies. Jodhpur samosas are a different beast altogether. The pastry is incredibly flaky, which was a nice discovery, but as soon as we bit through the dough, we realized they are sour. The filling is a deep shade of orange and the texture is jammy, which made me think it might be mixed with carrots or sweet potato, and it had unexpected bits of crunch. WHAT in the world of broken taste buds was this?! I’ve since learned that they’re made with amchur (mango powder), which would explain both the colour and the sourness; cashews were the source of the crunch; and raisins would’ve contributed to the jammy texture. Perhaps it goes without saying, but we were unenthused and eventually abandoned them. Rich’s stuffed chilli just about made up for the samosa experience.
We made plans for an evening meet up with Drone, our cabinmate from the train, and chuckled when he ended up recommending the same place we’d visited for dinner on our first night. Arriving at the restaurant not only alive but also once again miraculously intact, we discovered that Lela was also joining the party. A cat. In a bar. Definitely a new one for us. The city’s innumerable and often highly territorial stray dogs made unwelcome acquaintances on the way home, causing Rich to swear that he’d be finding a stick to carry on future outings.
With Holi rapidly approaching, we noticed all kinds of traditional treats starting to show up in the displays of namkeen (snack) shops and bakeries. We tried a sweet made of swirls of flaky dough that was very similar to a peanut baklava. We liked it so much we went back and bought a dozen in order to share them with our delightful guest lodge staff. There’s also a spicy, savoury cracker that was so incredibly moreish that I think tourist restaurants in the city are missing a trick by not selling them as bar snacks. A real bank-breaker, 250g of crackers cost us 75 rupees (about $1.25) and made great walking snacks while we toured the alleys of the city (while also now carrying the stick that Rich excitedly found the day after our close calls with canine neighbourhood guardians).
Jodhpur also gifted us our first tastes of laal maas – a thin, deep red mutton curry served piping hot, beautifully tender, and always comfortingly spicy (ie it comes with a warning and wary looks when ordered by tourists); malai kofta – tender paneer dumplings stuffed with half a peanut and a sultana in the centre and served in an incredibly rich tomato and onion gravy; and gatta curry – gram flour dumplings afloat in a rich curry broth, and, we learned, made with varying degrees of lightness and moisture in the dumplings, which are sandy and not especially palatable when undercooked (ask me how I know).
Much as we enjoyed trying these new Rajasthani dishes, we noticed our appetites and energy levels both start to take a noticeable dive. I felt like we’d become children’s toys that had battery level indicators blinking red alert signals, and we fell into a pattern of using the afternoon heat as a welcome excuse for time to rest in our room in the hopes of properly recharging. My cough only started to clear just as we were prepping to leave the city, so each afternoon nap is what kept me going between rounds of exploring blue lanes, stepwells and the fort, and we started talking about needing to do something about our eating habits because we weren’t actually eating enough food to fuel the amount of walking and running we were doing (or, in the case of my running, “attempting to do”).
After two months of eagerly tasting just about every new dish and treat that crossed our paths, our palates had gotten a little tired and, midway through our Jodhpur stay, we agreed that it was time for a “sell out meal.” When we travel, we typically enjoy all the local food that we can and avoid Western dishes for a variety of reasons that include avoiding disappointment (both the ingredients and the results are often categorized at best as “close but not quite,” so why bother?), but every now and then, it’s time to sell out and stray from the local specialties. Rich was on a mission to enjoy any beer that wasn’t Kingfisher, and in the process of finding a place that had some craft beer options, he devised a plan to do a little eating tour to go with his beer tour. I was sceptical (bad foreign food in a place with great local food is criminal in my books), but we discovered that Olive Garden was turning out some legit Neapolitan pies. We enjoyed our little foray into European food, but hoped it would be short-lived now that our craving was satisfied.
Jodhpur was one of the cities I was most excited to photograph while we were on the road because it’s known for having all kinds of buildings painted in beautiful blue hues. I had visions of exploring azure-toned alleys brimming with accent colours as life moved at its usual pace through the streets. Our meandering had taken us along so many alleys in shades that ranged from cobalt to cerulean, but I had this lingering suspicion that we were missing something. The blues seemed to happen in pockets rather than full swathes.
On our last day, we set out on our morning walk, taking a slightly different path from our usual route and, lo and behold, we found yet another corner of the city that we hadn’t explored and which accurately demonstrated the city’s moniker. Along with the ubiquitous base layer, there were murals and décor added all over the place. Each time we came to the end of one snaking alley and retraced our steps, we’d find another lane leading us through yet more cornflower paint, and I gleefully ensured that I dragged Rich down each and every one until I’d completely satisfied my photographic interests.
Late in the afternoon of our final day, after yet another nap session, we booked an auto and headed to Mandore Garden to enjoy a walk through the sandstone temples in the late-day light, and I’d definitely keep that on my list if I were to re-visit the city. The langurs use the temples as their playground; one stretch of lawn seemed to be a veritable daycare program, based on the number of young ones leaping and rebounding off every possible surface – including one another. The temples themselves are ornate and came cloaked in light that felt like magic. Thank God that Rich is (mostly) patient when I get somewhere with beautiful light because I certainly took my time!
Over the course of our four nights in the city, we were charmed not only by the colours, but also by the personalities of the city. We enjoyed becoming familiar with various people whose shops and businesses fell along our typical walking routes, including the shopkeeper where we bought our water and snacks; the barber with the fabulously thick moustache and ironically questionable mullet; the auto driver who always greeted us as we came out of the homestay’s alley each morning and afternoon; and a few servers at some restaurants that we frequented. It was another reminder of just how friendly people are, especially when you make time to show that you are interested.
When it was time to leave Jodhpur behind, an early train meant an even earlier departure, so we set our alarms for dawn, headed to the station, and bid the city farewell.
Grateful for: cough syrup; the luxury of taking time to rest