Memories of Jaipur
Memories of JaipurRugs show
I am always the target: anywhere I go, Fernanda’s incapacity to show indifference makes me the bad guy that, after having dozens of rugs at his feet, ends buying none, because what he said in the beginning of the “performance” was true – after thirty years travelling, I have no more space at home for rugs or carpets (thanks God, but I didn’t escape in Morocco, and Turkey, and…).
Of course, buying in the origin is usually cheaper, and with great choice. But it is also a risk, and, sometimes, a waste of time.
India is a good place to buy, but… no more rugs for me!
The Imperial Toilet
Now let me share my strongest memories of Jaipur;
The Pain
On my first day in India, I got diarrhea, as it always happens anywhere I go. Generally, it uses to be something light, disappearing after one or two days. Not this time. I was only cured after two days at home. But with lots of pills I always could wait until reaching the hotel. Always, except… in Fort Amber.
I had to ask the guide for toilets.
The struggle
What have I done!
The guide said something to the other guys, and suddenly there where several men running in all directions and shouting to each other. The guide explained at last:
– They are going to open to you the toilet of honor of the palace.
A few minutes later a large smile in a man’s face, came with a monstrous key. Another man ran, and both opened a large door of the palace. I didn’t see the trumpets, by I heard them sounding, because the solemnity was complete. And about 15 people calmed down, smiling at me, really happy for their kind and luxurious service. I stepped inside the space, and…
The space
Let me describe it.
A large dark room, about 3×3 meters, and looking around… nothing. After a few moments to adapt my eyes to the darkness I finally noticed in one corner a hole in the floor, something like a Turkish sink. Exploring again the space (with India smiling at my back) I saw near the opposite corner a tap, about 40 cm from the floor with nothing under it. In a 3rd corner… a bucket. Ok. I closed the door and… absolute darkness. Opened it again and… India waiting and smiling at me.
Happy End
After closing the door, leaving only a small opening to enter the light, and using the paper I always put in my trousers back pocket the first time I leave the first hotel (and that usually ends in my washing machine), and the bucket, everything ended well, and when exiting, again under the trumpets acclaim, I noticed that the Indian smiles were so released as mine.
