This trip is something I have wanted to do for years but never had the opportunity. And in the first real day, it has not disappointed. An early start to meet up with the rest of the group who as I have mentioned before are slightly French. Our guide and erstwhile leader have to be the cousin of Anthony Bourdain, maybe it’s the hair. He’s also a photo journalist and of course a biker. The others are two couples from France who seem to like the name, Frank. We have Frank and Francois and Jean-François with Denise. I being the token Rost beuf. And so we all left Delhi at some ungodly hour 7 am to drive for three hours to pick up our bikes. The bikes were waiting for us by a chai stop on the Delhi Ajmer Express way, where we were fully briefed in French and I was told to just keep up. Well not quite, as I had ridden in Delhi before my position was tail end Charlie. We were then delighted to observe minor surgery on some guys ears with two-foot long tweezers next to the bikes, Not wanting to be any part of that we set off with our support vehicle following behind or so we thought! We travelled about 3 k turned right and went 500 metres and the support vehicle was nowhere !! After a ten minute wait, Bourdain went off to find it. Like we had been riding all of three minutes. Another 10 minutes passed and they both returned. Off we set again blasting through little villages, I must say I felt like a gunslinger riding into town, the village was basically the street, the roads were muddy and there I was on my steed avoiding the cows that just went where they wanted and the large puddles of mud.
Children came out running to see us with big smiles on their faces, it reminded me of when I was a child, my friends and I used to go to the train bridge and wave at the train drivers … hoping they would wave back … well, today Norman I was that train driver. Except I was on my black steed…
After about 50 k, we went through the countryside with large chimneys either side of the road and stacks of bricks, I immediately recognised this as a brick manufacturing area, I had seen similar on the Mekong Delta, forever being a hands on sort of guy we went to look. And there were families living there, a young boy who cannot be a teenager yet was mixing slurry to make the bricks while the adults were doing the firing of the bricks in the purpose made kilns. Young children were running around naked and this was just a normal way of life for them. After this we went near some mountain ranges, the scenery reminded me of inland Spain, dry and some what barren the ride was interspersed with small villages which were little more than a row of houses and a school on each side. The roads were muddy and yet the school children were immaculate. In the country side, women in bright saris were carrying mustard crop or fire kindling on their heads, I felt I was going back in time, and everyone had a smile on their face, adults and children would wave to us.
And then we hit pot hole central, about 15k of road that was so bad, well to call it a road was a disservice but it was and on a bus route! The bikes were jumping everywhere it was like we were on wild stallions, after a while the roads slowly got better but Bourdain stopped! It seems his wheel bearing was going to give up. It was decided to limp to our night stop and we started off only to go for 5 minutes and we were slap bang in the middle of a wedding procession, the groom on a decorated pony with money all pinned to his front , the bride looking resplendent in a bright sari, and yet for 10 minutes we were the centre of attention ! The groom came over, the bride and her friends were all posing for photos, we were posing for photos and everyone was having fun … it was sad to leave.
A haveli is named such that its micro climate is affected by the sun and the wind, so you will always be cool in the summer and warm in the winter.
So the evening was eventful, in my very small room I was carrying out my functions, and someone was knocking on the door demanding I came outside, well I told him, in very plain English and backed up in my Cockney Mandarin to go forth and multiply and get as close to his mother as he had been at birth. He went. Then there was “puppet show” that’s the way to do it !!! After this dinner on the roof, Kingfisher RED label and encountering stories of the days riding …. in french !!