Why are your teeth brown?

Whilst I was crouching in vertigo fear by the steep step well in central Jodhpur, a group of lads stopped to chat. Chat or interrogate .... you get used to the usual questions, where is your husband? How old are you? How many children do you have? But I was left slightly speechless when asked to me explain why are you teeth brown? Perhaps it’s my new Ayurvedic brown tooth paste, or just years of too much red wine? I always thought of my teeth as more yellow. Anyhow I just replied because I am old and that got rid of them! 

The sounds of the city

Sitting on top of the roof terrace at Singhvi Haveli gives you a birds eye view over the blue city. The narrow streets prohibit cars in this oldest part of town, so the lanes are full of rushing motorbikes, and women and children bustling around. The two local temples waft out deep sounds of chanting, and the bikes beep and the dogs bark. This certainly is a city that never sleeps, but on the soft mattress in my 500 year old haveli and a mix of jet lag and sudden nonstop traveller walking means I can sleep like a baby! 

Who’s got the best moustache?

For men in Rajasthan the best way to stand out is having a beautiful colourful turban or a large curly, often comical moustache. Double whammy if you have both. Their pride in these two swells at the prospect of posing for a picture and it’s just pure delight to take pictures of them. At the imposing Fort towering over the blue city all the guards are dressed in beautiful swirling red and yellow turbans, and traditionally white trousers and tunics. To us, the 18 degree heat is sometimes as good as it gets on  a summers day in Cornwall, but here it’s galloping into winter, so thick body warmers are worn. I’m sure they are competitive about their moustaches, as you can catch them out of the corner of your eye preening the curls at the tip of the moustache, to make sure that they are in tip top condition. I was even asked to be in a selfie with a group of them, and I don’t even have a moustache .... 

A knife?

A seasoned traveller yes, but still much improvement is required. With Em’s advice as a fellow traveller ‘don’t over back’ I was determined this time to start off with a light backpack, and not one that would buckle the knees of a coolie in a train station. Mission accomplished but a last minute change of things in the airport queue meant I put my handy bag of things in my hand luggage. 

So it was only at the second round of airport security at Delhi airport that my day back was snatched away by a surly security guard barking instructions of open and knife? at me. My protests of ‘oh no, no knife’ melted away when I realised alongside my two sporks and head torch, washing line and ear plugs was my fabulous Swiss Army knife, which has been with me on many adventure, but mainly opening beer bottles and slicing mangoes. A pressie from a old boyfriend is now in the pocket  of a new owner, so enjoy! 

The planning is done and off to Heathrow later

I used to live ten miles from Heathrow, a hop skip and a jump to fly away. Now living at the end of the country it’s quite an undertaking to get there. Luckily I stop over with a friend and then head to the airport. Just managed to stay ahead of yet another yellow weather warning across Cornwall as I drove up country, but India here I come !!!