This will be my first significant solo trip for nearly 40 years!

Day trip to Amber

Thursday 27 January

Unfortunately their CD burner is not working at present, so one of my morning tasks was to find one that does. Surprisingly this turned out to be more difficult than usual. A couple of stops and my rickshaw driver and I were directed down a distinctly dodgy looking alleyway. But I have been here long enough now not to be surprised by the efficient service I got in this hole in the wall. The shop had about half a dozen quite up to date PCs with working keyboards and mice and an extremely fast ADSL line. While I joined an extremely useful discussion forum called indiamike, the woman in charge of the shop (yes, the first one so far) efficiently burnt a couple of CDs with my backlog of photos, and informed me that my main CF card has a virus. Cusses - this must have been my 'nephew' in Jaisalmer. I hope that my little hard disk (my main depository for photos) is not badly infected and that my photos are OK. I presume my CDs are also all infected. Meanwhile I reformatted the card and cross fingers the taj mahal pics in two days will be OK. (For the benefit of fellow travellers, this place is Modern Internet, Govind Ram Building , Near Jain Dharamshaia, M1 Road.)

The day had started with the brother of yesterday's driver coming to pick me up from the hotel. We agreed a price for the day (250 rupees - just over three quid) and set off to the railway station for the first task - to change the date of my ticket to Agra, as I am staying an extra day in Jaipur. Horrors, not only was the train already full, but so was the other option, the 1pm tomorrow. I have filled up a waiting list form, which means I have to turn up tomorrow and hope people have cancelled. Inshala

With the railway and cd burning sorted (well, in both cases, sort of) it was time to set off for Amber, about a dozen km from Jaipur. It is strange how less stressful it is driving than walking through mad cities like this, particularly in the morning, when my energy levels are high and somehow the noise seems fun. I can see that I am getting slightly obsessed in my fascination for Indian traffic, it really is the most crazy thing I have experienced. In addition to the usual eclectic forms of transport, and an above average number of motor bikes (definitely the most common form of travel here), Jaipur has a huge number of cycle rickshaws, many carrying whole families in the back. I really take my hat off to those drivers - they must be so strong. I tried to pick younger ones for my two trips yesterday. I didnt want to be responsible for heart failure.

The road out of Jaipur became increasingly picturesque as we entered a terrain of rocky, limestone hills. Over a hilltop and there before us appeared Amber Palace, which must surely be one of the most romantic sights I have seen so far. It stands high on an outcrop overlooking a lake, and behind it even higher on a cliff top is a fort, with its ramparts snaking across the surrounding hills.

The ability to create something as magnificent as this can be attributed to the usual deal between local Rajput rulers and the conquering Moghul forces. The Maharaja was the Rajput commander of Akbar's family and intermarriage with Moslems had bought him protection. So the palace was started in the sixteenth century and completed in the 18th century, when the ruling family moved to Jaipur.

It was a ten minute steep walk up to the palace, made more hazardous by having to avoid the elephants taking many of the tourists up the hill - not to mention avoiding their giant poos. They really are magnificent beasts and even though its all laid on for tourists, I took snapshots like any tourist. Let's face it, one cannot avoid being a tourist if you want to see the glories of India.

The first courtyard was vast. It had originally been stables and lodgings for servants, but was now milling with Indian tourists sitting on the lawns, surrounded on all sides by the usual barrage of people wanting to sell something to the foreigners.

I turned down the offer of a guide but luckily a little later I heard an absolutely excellent one talking to two Brits (Scots actually, from Elgin). When I asked if I could join in and share the cost, they were a bit dour initially but said by all means tag on, and no need to pay, as the guide was included in their package.

The real entrance (to the second courtyard) was an ornate affair centred round the picture of Ganesh (I can now recognise the elephant head of the son of Shiva and Parvati.)

The second courtyard, also part of the later 18 century additions to the palace, featured a central Diwani-i-Amm - public audience hall, where the maharaja would receive his visitors, seated in the middle on his silver chair. This hall was built of white marble and the decoration was a mixture of Hindu elephants and Moghul patterns. High on one wall were the screened windows through which the women watched what was going on.

We continued on, into the older, original part of the palace, which contained the Maharajah's appartments and those of his wives. The first courtyard was where the Maharaja used to sit in the centre, surrounded by fountains, pools and gardens (no water any longer). On one side of the yard was a little pool where the wives could also bathe and keep cool (with complex 'air conditioning' coming from tracery in the stone walls. The maharaja apparently only came here in the monsoon season, presumably the rest of the year he was off fighting.

We then passed a beautiful 400-old-year door made of sandalwood (imported from southern India) with ivory inlay, to the oldest part of the palace, the sixteenth century zenana - the wives quarters. The maharajah had twelve wives and round this courtyard were 12 identical compunds, complete with bedroom, living area, kitchen, a place to heat the water for the bath etc. In the gallery above there was space for the 300 concubines, in effect ladies in waiting, and the Ethiopian eunuchs. The guide explained that as the maharajah visited only once a year, the rest of the time the 12 wives could get a bit restive and bicker; the eunuchs were there to keep some order.

Asked a question about religion, the guide suddenly launched into an explanation of the hindu caste system and the way that the official State religion had changed over the years: way back Buddhist, then during the Moghul period Moslem, then during colonial times Christian, and now Hindu (moslems being the second largest group today, and buddhists and christians very much small minorities).

He talked about great men in Indian history, saying that the last great man was of course Mahatma Gandhi. What about Nehru, I asked. No way, he said, Nehru and Indira Gandhi were forgotten people, he said. Nehru (and Lady Mountbatten??) and Jinna, the moslem leader, were responsible for Partition and the bloodshed that surrounded it. Neither was of the common people, whereas Mahatma Gandhi was. People waited for him to speak out against Partition, but he didn't, fearing that this would provoke further bloodshed, but remained firmly against it, calling for compromise and for Moslem and Hindu to live alongside each other - even if this meant accepting Jinna as the leader. This was why he was assassinated, said the guide, to prevent him persuading people to accept this compromise. Hmm. Not only do I need to read about Indian religion; now I need to gen up on history too. I always dozed off, or skipped revision, on the section in each century on colonial questions. Anyhow, I agree with Gandhi about Partition being a disaster.

I had a recuperative lunch of vegetable pulao and chai in a tacky restaurant garden, sharing a table with three backpackers I had met on the way up. They are all doing their trip round the world. The girl has been given six months travel leave by her employers, while one of the men is a web designer and is confident that he will get work quickly when he returns. They werent particularly enthusiastic about Amber, on the grounds that seen one palace and fort, seen the lot. I felt quite sad; round the world backpackers seem often to be ticking off destinations on a list (inevitably including Thailand, for example). In this case, the next stop was Pushkar, beloved by hippies and other cool people, according to one of my guidebooks.

On our way back to Jaipur, past a wonderful lake palace, this time actually surrounded by water and therefore with shimmering reflection, which was so absent in Udaipur, the driver asked if we could stop at a textile factory. I didn't need to spend anything, he said, just look for quarter of an hour, in order that he could get his commission. Heard that one before, but weakly agreed, adding firmly that I was not going to spend anything. One hour later, I emerged completely mortified: I had completely succumbed to some of the smoothest sales talk I have ever experienced - I actually LIKED the guy even though I was aware of the game (he claims to own the factory and to export to various companies, including Monsoon and Habitat). So I made two purchases - I won't say what, girls, but at least you know you are getting a modest something. Modest, except I'm sure I paid well over the proper price. What is a proper price? Haven't a clue, given my total lack of shopping experience. Anyhow, I hope that I will still like the things in the morning!

Stopped off to top up the mobile sim card I bought in Delhi at the start of the trip, only to find that I had been sold a bummer: the card cannot be topped up in Rajasthan. Mobile phone companies are apparently different from state and state and I should have bought a card from one of the few big boys who cover more than one state. Ah well, it was invaluable up until now, both for calling rickshaws and sending messages to Kate and Jude (I could have done without the last message from Kate being deliver 30 times to date). Maybe I'll be able to top it up in Agra.

Talking to the backpackers, we all agreed that we had been taken for at least one ride, usually starting with high sales pressure in Delhi and no matter how much the guidebooks and people warn you, everybody seems to have succumbed somewhere.