Leaving Udaipur was tearful to say the least. Crawled back to the hotel at 5am after a successful night out for the train that morning. Chugged down some steaming Chai on the platform to stay awake and appear untouched from total lack of sleep...aaand passed out two minutes in.
Woke to steel shutter slamming down on Fiona's elbow as the train lurched.
"Ow! What the F**K!" -Fiona
"Ooooo yes, this happen sometime in India, you must just laugh!" Anant, our guide
Hotel Deepak/Sanjive/Rajnak, honestly cant remember, was run by two overbearing, over-handshaking brothers that showed Bollywood movies on the rooftop from their flatscreen at night. Dostana "friendship" was shoved into system and our bums planted onto cushions before we could say chiapatti. Thinking we were laughing with them, the owners were very pleased with their sappy, cheesy and soft core porn big hit of the year.
Marc and I rented some bikes in the morning and flounced through the streets thinking this would avoid hassle. When the wedding procession filled through the rubbish-ridden mainstreet (size and smell of sewage pipe) local boys jumped on our backs and demanded we ride them around. Ronny, the one who picked his nose and ate it, brought us to the cheapest water bottle merchant and introduced us to his rabid pet dog that would have taken my hand back to his lair had I given him the chance.
Had some lunch at the Pink Floyd cafe (the owner didnt know the words to Wish You Were Here) and then back to the hotel rooftop for beers, which being illegal in this holy town with its holy dried up lake, were wrapped in newspaper. Janet, Marc, Eva and I talked for hours and looked out over the hill to spotlights coming from some big wedding going on. Then, like a bollywood hero, Anant pranced up the stairs, shirt flying undone, sweat dripping down his abs....nahhh, but he did lug his whiskey belly up there to pronounce we had been invited to the local Rajput's (king) son's wedding.
More nonplussed than we had ever been, we walked in a dazed state behind a uniformed brass band, a procession of camels, dancing horses, firework launchers and a brightly painted (even his toenails :pink) elephant carrying the groom. You know, just your average walk up the aisle.
Given our own turbans, Marc and I hovered around the open bar for most of the night, only daring to venture as far as the marriage ceremony to witness it all. Bride and Groom, decked out in every possible form of jewellery, walked 7 times around a fire holding hands to cement their marriage, arranged of course. We dinned on the finest of curries, attempted to chat up the modelling waitresses (being ushered away a little too cordially by male hosts) and dragged Janet, certainly not single, away from a 6'5'' polo player with biceps as big as the elephants.
Flopped into the taxi at 2am as the dancing was just starting up :S and zig zagged back to our beds, probably unaware of how lucky we were, being the only westerners at this 3000 person wedding of which the presents consisted of two matching Bentleys for the newlyweds. Wow.
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