We flew to Udaipur today. The city is best known for its white marble palace in the middle of the lake where scenes from the James Bond movie ‘Octopussy’ were shot.
Unfortunately, our tour company representative -- who has already proved herself not to be the brightest kid in class -- had booked us at a hotel outside of the center of town. We vaguely remember her telling us this-- but not that our driver and car weren’t going to be available. This basically means we are going to be stuck out in the boondocks for the night, with no choice but to eat dinner at the hotel, unless we want to pay money for a taxi into town.
Strangely, our representative, who met us at the airport and drove with us to the hotel, kept insisting that we will enjoy some time at the hotel.
(Aside #1: Every time we arrive at the airport, not only does the driver meet us, but a representative from each city greets us, accompanies us to the hotel, checks us in at the front desk, and then calls us from the lobby in our room to make sure everything is to our liking. It’s comical and unnecessary, but apparently how it’s done. We can’t seem to make them stop.)
(Aside #2: Just some background on the area, Rajhastan, that we’ve been traveling through. Each city was ruled by a separate king, or maharaja. They remained in place all through British rule of India, and were removed when India gained independence. Today, they are just ‘kings’ in name (like the queen of England,) although they do have coronations when a son is named king. Some of their properties are now owned by the government for tourists to visit, while others are still owned by the family and operated as hotels. And many of them still live in parts of the properties.)
But I digress.
Our hotel in Udaipur is a former hunting lodge of the king. So, we drive into this valley ringed by tall mountains, up this long, long, long drive and stop in front of a large main cabin-like building. The porters load up our growing luggage count (due to my inability to stop buying linens) and we follow them out of reception and down a path towards our room.
As we turn a corner, one of the porters points to a field that’s about one story down from the path that we’re walking and says ‘deer.’ And spread out before us are about 50 or so large, brown spotted deer. Baby deer, large bucks with spiraling horns at least four feet high. And we realize that this former hunting lodge is now an animal preserve!
Our room looks exactly as you’d expect a former hunting lodge to look: slate stone walls, rocking chair in the corner, plush beds made with blankets that look perfect for snuggling.
And then the porter opens the drapes to reveal a large picture window. Spread below are the deer like a painting in a museum, the yellow of the grass, their brown coats, the mountains beyond clad in shaded purple light.
As a city girl, deer in New Jersey are exciting enough. But these exotic looking deer are even better, especially when they are part of the hotel staff.
We unpack a bit and decide to explore. We open the door… and large peacock that had been perched on the overhang above the door squawks and flies away. We shut the door and burst out laughing.
Let’s try again.
We step through the doorway, lock the door behind us, take a handful of steps down the path… only to be stopped by a monkey. He’s balanced on a tree branch, not more than 10 feet above us. He’s staring at us. And he’s BIG. At least 3 feet fall. We inch slowly past. And there’s another monkey on the wall ringing the property.
Wait a minute. There are monkeys here? And they are just roaming free. Hmmm. The story of that women that had her face ripped off by a baboon ripples across my mind.
We stroll through the grounds. The deer are still munching on tall yellow grass. We’re surrounded by pink light as the sun sets behind lush craggy mountains. This place is also a stud farm and we peek over a stone wall to watch a skinny newborn foal leaning against it’s mother, while another baby walks unsteady on tall wobbly legs. Their brown hair looks soft even from this distance.
The last of the day’s light is fading as we walk back to our room to rest a bit before dinner. And as we turn the corner where our cabin is located, we are confronted by no less than 10 monkeys. Not confronted I guess. They didn’t SEEM like they wanted to spring. But they were sitting there, staring. Some were big. A few smaller babies. Their velvety gray tails all dangling off branches and rooftops and walls like snakes. We ask one hotel worker if they are dangerous. He doesn't speak a lot of English, just smiles and says ‘monkeys’ and then claps his hands, as if to scare them away. They just blink at him. He says 'no door open' ' no banana.' Gee thanks. As if we were going to leave the door open and invite them in for a snack!?
And as the daylight fades away, sounds we’ve never heard before emerge from the dark. Grunting and chattering and squawking. Leaves rustling as the monkeys jump around. We run laughing into our room, shut the door, and look at them through the window.
It’s always been my dream to do a safari in Africa. One day. In the meantime I’m sharing space with dozens of monkeys. That’s not a bad start.
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