Jaipur is a small big city and the hype it gets makes it all together a dissapointment for me. We stayed in a ruddy backpackers some 5 K from the walled city sandwiched between the private bus stands and railway station. We enjoied smashing clay pots on the ground at lassi shops. Tony's guest house, be it a ruddy one, was choclate cake packed with character, charm, charms and boyish potential. The owner, Tony, is an 80 year old BOY. When we visit jaipur again we have squaters rights and must meet his Guru.
After the jaipur there was sweet dusty paralizing Delhi. We stayed one night in the construced tourist 'you're still in dirty spiritual India' sanctum of the main Bazzar for one night. We met some charming English folk, namely Jay and whatshisname and an exellent if sleasy Goan waiter named Alex who expetly proceeded to get us horribly drunk. The hangover made it well past mid day and skewed our haggling powers notably. Goldie payed 1000Rupees for some henna hands and I let some goofy rikshaw baba toat us to an expensive handi craft store where we went mad and never reached our final agreed toat destination of Preet Vihar on the opposite side of the river in East Delhi. East Delhi is where my good friend Rohit's brother currently presides upon and resides within the Malhan family appartment. We reached the appartment in the gated community 'Gagan Vihar' at approximately 11pm dusty and embarrassed. Delhi was from this point on meraculous.