Carry on- Follow that camel

 Last night we stayed in a fully restored 'painted house' hotel. It was absolutely beautiful, which just goes to show what can be achieved with a bit of elbow grease and free rein with the Dulux colour chart.

Full marks then, for decor, but disappointed not to see curry on the breakfast menu.

Moving on, and after another 7 hours of tedium, we arrived in the town of Bikaner. We were here primarily to visit the fort (not UNESCO).

Built in the 16th century, it's famous for never having been conquered despite being built on flat ground rather than the more usual hilltop.

Inside, we were led past various pieces of aging weaponry (bizarrely there was a biplane in amongst the scimitars.......)

The fort has also served time as a palace and so we dutifully traipsed through a few bedrooms before it was back onto the coach.

By now, it was early evening and it was time for the main event of the day. An outdoor evening of cultural entertainment, and dining under the stars. 

Situated in a desert landscape, there unfortunately seemed only one way to arrive:

Camel-cart.

For those readers unfamiliar with this particular mode of transport, allow me to explain. It's a cart. Pulled by a camel.

Yes. Exactly like this. In fact, this is our cart and highly qualified driver. 

Let me tell you blog-mates, this is not a vehicle built for comfort. My ribs took a right old bashing I can tell you. Not to mention my rear end. 

The entertainment began with a recital featuring that most feared of instruments, the bagpipes, and I began to realise exactly why the fort down the road had never been conquered. 

The music continued during our al fresco meal, along with a dancer who whirled around most impressively before her grand finale involving what appeared to be a fully lit candelabra on her head.

All in all, a remarkable cultural evening.

Mandawar and the painted houses

After another curry themed breakfast, we once again boarded our sub-luxury coach and set off for Mandawar. Much hyped by our guide as an 'open air art gallery' we were more than willing to submit to the 7 hour journey to see it. 

Halfway through, and with most of us having second thoughts about the whole outing, we stopped for a refreshing lunch of curry.

As a result, the remaing 4 hours of the journey flew by. Undeterred by the many cattle in the road nor by the suicidal intent of most of the other drivers, we soldiered on and finally reached Mandarwar.

Stepping from the coach, with a heightened sense of anticipation we prepared to be 'charmed by the colourful frescos'.

Seasoned readers of this blog ( those that aren't in some kind of institution) will have a sense of what's to come.

Stepping deftly over the steaming piles of sacred cow dung, we approached the first house.

To say I was disappointed is quite the understatement. 

I can't say I was overly charmed. The next house proved slightly better, but honestly, none of them are going to feature in an issue of Homes and  Gardens any time soon.

The 7 hour drive was not completely wasted however. We did see some baby owls......

By the way, the missing members of our party have finally turned up! (I know you were concerned).

Djelhi babies

 

Namaste blog-mates!  We're finally in Delhi. Our plane landed at around 04.30 this morning and after hanging about in the airport for a couple of hours, waiting for missing group members, someone casually mentioned that in fact,said members had actually missed the flight and would follow on later today.

Oh how we laughed...........

Once on board the coach, our guide introduced himself. Apparently his name is Lalit, although by this time it's safe to say that to the majority of us his name was mud.

We set off in search of breakfast and after a nourishing plate of curry and chips, we were ready for the first sightseeing jaunt.

Our target was the Qutb Minar, (no idea how you pronounce it) which as I'm sure you're aware, is the tallest minaret in Delhi. And a UNESCO World heritage site (obviously).

It's a whopping 73m tall and has no fewer than 379 steps inside leading to the top. However entry is now prohibited, following a grisly stampede in 1981 in which 45 people were killed.  

Sill, it's an ill wind and all that......

So, this minaret and ruined mosque complex thing. Quite impressive. Lovely brickwork,  Judge for yourselves:

 Once Lalit had decided we'd seen enough bricks, he let us back on the coach and brought us to the hotel.

Which is where I'm writing this, lulled by the gentle rhythm of full-on Delhi rush hour traffic.

And we're off ! (Again....)

 Welcome back blogmates! I hope you're all fit and ready (if not entirely willing) to join us on our Passage through India.

Currently, we're in Istanbul Airport, attempting to fill a mere 3 hours before our flight to Delhi.    

I'll be honest, there's not a lot of distractions on offer. And the airport services are blunt and to the point:

Needless to say, trusty JB has sniffed out a bar, but at a remarkable 16 Euros per pint, we've decided we're not that thirsty.  

In any case, we can amuse ourselves by thinking of fun facts about Istanbul.......

Well, that didn't take long. It's now only 2 hours and 47 minutes of waiting................

And no Turkish delight in sight.

Foreign Pie News

Cheese and Ham Pie: The Bakery Rhodes Old Town 

Despite the crushing disappointment of the spinach and feta pie from this establishment, we decided to give it another chance...

Pastry: 

Startlingly yellow, with a crimped crust possibly an attempt at suggesting a rustic origin. Taste wise however, it was a total dud. The crimping had created areas of extreme toughness, contrasting unpleasantly with the rest of the pie which had the texture of a well used flannel.

Filling:

Billed as a 'Cheese and Ham Pie', this came as a bitter disappointment.  The discovery of a layer of tomato ketchup (and not even Heinz) was as unwelcome as it was unnecessary.  Discerning no cheese whatsoever, I took the rash decision to lift  the pastry lid. The image of the pseudo ham that was revealed will haunt me for many a year.......

An absolute disgrace. 

I might add that it pains me to post this now, given that today is the  the start of UK Pie Week. 

Sadly (depending on your point of view) it's also the last post for this trip.

Thanks for your company blogmates, and stay tuned for the next chapter..........

The Palace of the Grand Master (with bonus museum)

After walking to Rhodes Town and back (22,000 steps!)  most of yesterday was taken up with applying various ointments and liniments to our mangled knees and trotters.

Sensibly this morning, we opted to take the bus into town for our free visit to the palace and museum. Built in the 14th century it was the administrative centre of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem ( aka the Knights Hospitallers  aka The Knights of St John of Malta - very dodgy if you ask me) and the fairly ritzy home of the order's Grand Masters (so much for the vow of poverty...) between 1309 and 1522, when the pesky Ottomans took over Rhodes.

They used the building mainly as a fortress and prison (not having any Grand Masters to house) until 1912, despite it being blown up when lightning struck the gunpowder store in 1856. (Take note: NEVER store your gunpowder in bulk without adequate protection from lightning)

From 1912 to 1948, Rhodes was occupied by the Italians, (a source of huge shame to Rhodians, and rightly so. I mean, the Italians.....really....??).

Anyway, the Italians rebuilt the broken bits of the palace to make it into a fitting home for both Mussolini and King Victor Emmanuel 111, so all's well that ends well I suppose......

The palace was stuffed with some very nice mosaics (looted from Kos in the 1930's.... what did you expect???) and questionable sculptures:

There's only so much you can take of this sort of thing, even if it is free, and we fled the palace, for the archaeological museum (free entry)

The museum is housed in the former hospital building of the multiple-identity Knights.  The exhibits lean heavily toward the pottery side of things, which in all honesty, I couldn't be bothered to photograph (don't pretend you'd have been interested)

It has beautiful gardens though, with more mosaics ( not looted ones)

Cultural commitments completed, (and free of charge, don't forget) we boarded the bus back to our hotel and happy hour.

Foreign Pie News

 Spanakopita pie (The Bakery, Rhodes Old Town)

Pastry:

Filo pastry, which somehow managed to be crisp and flaky in parts and oily and soggy in others.

Filling:

Feta cheese and spinach, with added olive oil to ensure maximum greasiness. We'd been warned by the baker that it was very salty, but if so, we must have been given a rogue one.

Initially, it was a very pleasant experience, but about halfway through, the overwhelming oiliness was fairly off-putting, not to mention slippery to grip.

A tasty treat provided you only eat the non-oily half. 

Disappointing.