I'd always dreamed to visit India. It was just a question of time before I would go there. I lived six years in Asia, from 1991 to 1997, visited most countries of the South-East, some countries of the Far-East, but I never had a chance to travel to any part of the sub-continent.

Most of my friends came back from India, either loving it, or hating it. It seemed that there was no middle-ground, either love... or hate. I didn't want to hate India, so I waited until I was ready: old enough - but still young enough - to handle the hardships. One morning of July 2001, I woke up, quitted my job, and went to a travel agency. The plane ticket was bought, economy class, open return, departure date: 24th October 2001. Destination: New Delhi. My dream was going to come true!

At work, I had two months notice, minus some holiday time I had left. A few days before my last day, the worst terrorist attack ever stoke America. It was heart-broken. Before even I could see any image on television or read any comment in the papers, I knew that the world I used to know was over. I felt small, vulnerable and fragile.

Still, I decided to keep on with my plans and flew to New Delhi on the night of the 24th October. I arrived extremely rested. As it happened, I was seated next to an exit door, whose inside pannel fell on my laps during the take off. Instead of stopping the plane for security reasons, the crew chose to upgrade me to the first class, where I enjoyed a better sleep than any of the ones I would later know in India.

My first sight of India was the sunrise light over New Delhi. I could hardly believe I was there. The streets were still empty of cars, but not of homeless sleepers who were lying on the sidewalks or directly on the roads. I was eager to arrive to the hotel and to start exploring the city. I had only a day in Delhi before heading to Jaipur and I wanted to make the best out of it.

The Sikh auto-rickshaw driver that I stopped after I had checked-in the hotel refused blankly to drive me to the main tourist attractions of the center. Instead, he insisted to go to main Sikh temple of New Delhi, then to the biggest Hindu temple, then to a beautiful Buddhist temple, then... but at that point I refused. I was not going to handle a mosque, a church and a synagogue. He looked disappointed but didn't give up, and I spent my very first day in India being driven around to places I had no clue about and not even mentioned in my guide... Still, I was back in Asia, New Delhi looked beautiful to me and adventure was knocking at my door.

Apart from the two first nights in Delhi, I hadn't booked anything. I managed to buy a train ticket to Jaipur for the following day - 6am!!! - and came back to the hotel quite early in the evening, as I wanted to catch up with the jetlag. I felt dizzy with all the emotions of the day and decided it was smarter to take a rest before the trip. Except that I was in Delhi, and it seemed suddently quite stupid to stay in a hotel room. At 9pm, I was back in the streets, wandering around small fruits, sweets and nuts markets in narrow alleys, tasting my first genuine Indian food, looking, watching, smelling, and feeling what would be my world for the next two months.

No need to say that, the day after, I missed the train. I was almost on time, almost... and I saw it leaving... It never happened to me before. Planes yes, but trains: never! I took it personnally and I fumed my way out of the station! Porters, rickshaw- and taxi-drivers were rushing to bring me to some cheap hotels, but quickly gave up, looking at my angry face. I stood alone on the sidewalk, smoking and digesting my loss of face. Fact: in Asia, one doesn't lose face!

I was wondering what would be next when an Ambassador car stopped in front of me and the driver offered me to drive me to Jaipur. Don't ask! This is Asia. Nothing is secret, nothing is hidden. We agreed on a price and here I was, on my way to Jaipur!

The streets in Asia, especially in India, are clogged with any kind of vehicles or living species. We drove on a 4-lane "highway", crossing or overpassing camels, elephants, water-buffaloes and horses, pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, motorbikes, cars and lorries. It didn't look like the British left-side driving style was respected by any of the users of the highway. Each one would use either side of the road as it suited him. Not that the Ambassador's smily and gracious driver was either impressed or scared by this chaotic way of driving. By the time we reached Jaipur, three hours later, he was madly in love with me, while I was counting my additional grey hair.

Jaipur is an old fortified city. One can still see the ramparts around it and some beautiful gates.

   It is called the Pink City because all the buildings of the center are painted in dark pink, following the visit of some British royalty last century. It gives the city a very noble allure, as the stains on the walls are regularly hidden, unlike the other cities of India. Still, it is as much chaotic, noisy, polluted and busy as any other.

I found a nice guest-house right in the center, in a quiet lane. My room was on the last floor, on the roof, and I would keep the two doors open to get some fresh air. Regularly, I would come back in the afternoons, push one of the rattan chairs of the roof in the shadows, and take a rest from the heat and the madness of the streets. The house was owned by a family, the father and the four brothers coming very often to ask me about my country or my opinion on the war in Afghanistan, or to tell me about their jobs, their wives and their children. Very quickly, I could feel almost part of them. In the mornings, I would visit the numerous palaces and citadels of the area, and in the evenings, I would lose myself in the maze of narrow lanes, sometimes as wide as my shoulders, that makes the city bazaar.

Jaipur is known for its Palace. Part of it (the Chandra Mahal) is closed to the public, because it is still the residence of the Maharajas' heirs, but most of the rest can be visited. It was my first Indian palace, and I found myself immediately under the spell of its beauty.

In front of the Palace is the Jantar Mantar. It is an amazing site. At first, one believes it is a 1970-artist's vision, except that it was built at the begining of the 18th century by some rich Maharaja. All together, there are 16 constructions, all related to the astronomy, that give the position of the planets, stars and zodiac constellations, the solar time, as well as other precisions I have no clue about. It is magic to wander around, climb up some steep stairs and pass under arches and tunnels. I wished I was a photographer and could play with these constructions's shape, light and shadow.

And because Jaipur is a small city, right next door is the Hawa Mahal or the Wind Palace. Again, it is an amazing building. It is only a façade, 5-storey high, where, at the time of the Maharajas, the women of the harem could watch the street without being seen. The façade is shoulder-wide at the top and widens gradually to the extent of a small audience room at the bottom. Alonside the façade are narrow arched pathways, where each women would sit in front of a window. From the street in front of the Hawa Mahal, no one could guess that it is only a shallow building: it is so huge, imposing and impressive.

Not far away from Jaipur is Amber, the former capital of the Kachhawahas before they moved to Jaipur. There, one can visit the Palace, a magnificent citadel towing above the town and surrounded by ramparts.

    It is a succession of walled courtyards and gardens, separeted by beautiful gates,

      with pathways on the side of the walls and, at the very end, a maze of small rooms which were the appartments of the harem's ladies. One can climb up the hill either by foot, or on the back of elephants. As soon as I entered, I was overwhelmed by the beauty of the murals and the mosaics,

        the harmony of the architecture and the peacefulness of the site. Because of the uncertainties of the international situation, the palace was almost empty of travellers, and I could enjoy it by myself.

At the top of the hill is the Fort of Amber, a massive citadel that I didn't find particularly beautiful.

  Built according to the same architecture style of that time: a first courtyard with an audiance hall to receive the ambassadors and visitors, then a gate to separate the Mahajara's private appartments, then the harem and the gardens at the very end,

  it is huge, bulky and stern, except for the magnificent view over the hills, the fortifications, the Palace and the town below.

    And, I enjoyed the peaceful road that links the Palace to the Fort, where I only met some girls with theirs goats.

After one week of visiting palaces, citadels and forts, I reached my limits. There were still some beautiful buildings in Jaipur, but I didn't find the motivation to even enter.

    I had been moving around like for a marathon, and felt it was time to slow down. As much as I'd enjoyed visiting these sites, there was a limit to how much more I wanted to see. I still had seven weeks to go in India and didn't want to spoil the trip by seeing too much in too short a time. In addition, India takes its toll. The noises, the fumes and the filth can become quickly unbearable. The heat was at its highest, reaching the hundreds, and I had to fight my way, each day, amongst dozens of beggars and touts looking for a prey.

The fact that I was a single western woman didn't help, as most of the young Indian men are sexually frustrated and are looking for any kind of oppurtunity. One day, in the public bus going back from Amber to Jaipur, I found myself alone with three young men, the controler included. I didn't notice immediately, as I was dozing like the rest of the passengers, but it came back to me that there had been a fuss in the bus a few minutes before, when the controler had forced all the passengers to step off in the middle of nowhere. I didn't want to take a chance and jumped off, thanks God without any damages, but this kind of stories can destroy a trip.

I still had a few days planned in Jaipur, before going back to Delhi, and I decided to take it easy. I discovered a nice English bookshop, bought a couple of books written by Indian authors and I retreated to the beautiful roof of my guest-house. In the evening, I would watch CNN to catch up with the latest news in Afghanistan or watch a movie on HBO. Life was treating me nicely and I would always remember Jaipur with some kind of nostalgy.

Two weeks after my arrival in India, I was on my way back to Delhi, waiting for a friend of mine who was going to travel for two weeks with me in Northern India.

To be followed by - A Travel through India 2: Nothern India