I left off last time with us on a tour in a taxi from Udaipur to Jodhpur via the magnificent Kumbalgarh and Ranakpur. We arrived at the usual auto-rickshaw stand (tuk-tuk) to be met by the guesthouse owner. Paul had just phoned him using the number on our reservation confirmation. A young friendly guy greeted us and flagged down a tuk-tuk for us and our bags and he followed us through the claustrophobic, muddled, winding streets of the blue painted Jodhpur. We arrived at the guesthouse and I didn't recognise the name Hem Guesthouse but Paul had booked it and he seemed unconcerned. "This is your home, my mother will make you some chai and cookies" said our guesthouse owner. We sat down while he perused our confirmation. "Ah this is for my cousin's guesthouse, he has used my number" - Oops! After paying for our tuk-tuk, struggling up a flight of stairs with our luggage and making us very much at home on the rooftop with stunning views of the fort (and his Mum's chai and cookies), he had discovered that we were not actually his guests after all. He soon called his cousin, who was now being referred to as his brother, who came to collect us and take us through the maze of streets to another guesthouse. We tried to offer the poor guy some money, but he wouldn't hear of it. We were stunned!! Our new home was even closer to the fort, but with less stunning views. Our room was pretty strange in various shades of blue with the bed pushed up against the fitted wardrobes - it was prettily decorated with wall-hangings and murals and there were 4 giant blue and red Christmas baubles hanging from the ceiling. The bathroom was a brick outhouse on the balcony overlooking the street - the balcony was thankfully screened with blue matting, so we didn't have an audience everytime we popped in. After settling in, we went out for a walk to get our bearings. The market and clocktower seem to be at the centre of things and they were very close to where we were staying. They say travel broadens the mind, but our minds have been narrowing with each Indian city or town we visit. I was now starting to do impressions of Prince Philip with comments of "bloody savages" at every turn. Jodhpur kind of typifies the average town in India - narrow winding streets with lazing dogs biting their flea-bitten bodies, beggars, scammers, cows arses right in my face wherever I walk, noisy beeping tuk-tuks and motorbikes, litter everywhere, spitting, urinating, cow pats, open sewers, leering men and boys. Yes things were starting to get us down, Jodhpur was no worse than anywhere else but the same annoyances persisted and they had a cumulative effect. On our walk through the streets some touts on the steps of a temple invited us to visit the Nirvana restaurant above; it had quite a perfect view of the temple below and the spectacular fort, lit up for the evening. We discussed that we really shouldn't get complacent about how fortunate we were to be able to enjoy such a setting. We returned to the guesthouse slightly humbled. We awoke the next day to the thumping sound system for a wedding which was taking place opposite, we hadn't slept too well because of the heat and so decided to head out early to get breakfast and to walk to the fort. According to the map, the fort road ran north from the clocktower and looked easy enough. We headed off in the right direction but soon found there was more of a maze of roads rather than a clear route. Our path took us down narrow residential alleys with kids hounding us for money/sweets; at one point I was surrounded by a gang of about 6 eight year olds grabbing at me and my umbrella - I hate being picked on!!! The walk was longer than we thought and the temperature was rising fast, the next bit was climbing stairs to the road that would rise steeply up to the fort. I was getting more and more ratty with the heat. Every single auto-rickshaw driver stopped us on the way with various price offers for the ride Rp10 - 100. Reaching the top of the road gave us a view of the towering fort walls and a view of blue Jodhpur below. See Paul's photos. As I would discover from the audioguide for the fort, the blue colour of Jodhpur was chosen because of its ability to reflect the sun and repel insects. When I mentioned this to Paul it prompted a short rant to the effect that getting rid of the crap off the streets would reduce the flies. The audioguide tour of the fort palace was very similar to the others we had experienced - the same sychophantic diatribe about the former and current Maharajas. At one of the gates (Loha Pol) we saw red handprints - this was becoming a common sight at such palaces. In 1843 the Maharaja Man Singh died young leaving many widows. The audioguide solemnly played out the narrative that his many widows had dipped their hands in vermillion and made the handprint marks on their walk to the funeral pyre where they made the ultimate sacrifice in a practice called 'sati' otherwise spellt 'suti'. The narrator continued that they sat gracefully, calm and dignified on the pyre while the flames engulfed them. This was the last known of such a practice in India - the British outlawed it. There was not one mention in this narrative of the fact that this was a barbaric, unnecessary, misogynistic practice that saw young women forced into an early and horrific death. Yes they were dignified, yes it was a sacrifice but did they have a choice under the pressure of thousands of years of tradition of male-dominated, bigoted religious and cultural rituals? Lonely planet waxes lyrically about this audiotour - they need to get some perspective on it. History is written by the victors and audioguides are scripted by the sponsors. Ranting over, once again - the palace and Mehrangarh fort are stunning and awe-inspiring and still worth a visit. We lunched at Indique restaurant in a converted Haveli (mansion) - Pol Haveli. It was very pricey, but the food was better than we've had in a while - over all, the food in Rajasthan was terrible. Back to the guesthouse and still no invite to the wedding - despite the groom being a relation of our guesthouse owner. Apparently it is very common for tourists to be among the hundreds/thousands invited to weddings. A last drink and snack at Nirvana and a chat with a couple from Blackburn in the evening. The couple were on a whirlwind 10 days tour of Rajasthan. They would be on a luxury air-conditioned coach for the 6 hour (250kms) journey to Jaisalmer the next day. We said we would wave to them from the roof of the local bus that we would be taking there in the searing desert heat. As we left Nirvana restaurant that evening, the manager said "See you next year" and as I walked away I couldn't help but mutter another Prince Philip-ism "Me, visit Jodhpur again? - ghaaastly place!".