Cows, Collisions and Haute Couture

Shopping in Jaipur, India's center for gems, can be quite an eye-opener. Our budget does not, however, allow for ruby tiaras, so I settle for a length of hand-stamped silk. Choosing one piece from the myriad of designs is not an easy feat and the kids are not too supportive, so I settle quickly. I am set on taking a few meters home, when suddenly I am surrounded by lengths of measuring tape and a flurry of notations between two men who have appeared from nowhere. It turns out that the price of my purchase includes the custom tailoring of an outfit of my choice, so I settle on a design and leave, being reassured that the garment will be delivered to my hotel in a few hours...I have my doubts.

On the way back to the hotel, Don has a little run in with a cow. One thing I have neglected to mention about the freewheeling Indian cow is that many have very big horns. The cows are quite complacent and generally ignore the World around them, happily munching on cardboard. The danger involved in the mixture of horned cows and human pedestrians comes when the crowds on the streets reach a certain mass, the probability of getting stabbed by a horn increases greatly, thus the goring of Don on a downtown street. Luckily Don escaped virtually unscathed, his shirt however became the cow's dessert. Back at the hotel, the night wears on and I am fearing that my rupees have actually bought a few Tuborg for the shopkeepers, when a knock on the door heralds the arrival of a perfectly crafted dress; Don should have ordered a shirt.

Our next stop is Agra. One simply cannot journey all the way to India and not see the Taj Mahal! We leave early in the morning as we've a few stops to make on the way: the ancient city of Fatehpur Sikri and Kaleadeo National Park. The road to Agra is extremely busy, and our pal Jack proves his prowess at driving (or perhaps his good karma) along the way. We pass through many roadside towns, which seem to be built for the expressed purpose of fixing Tatas. These towns are built right along the edge of the road, with their wares (bits of rubber, old alternators, batteries etc.) proudly displayed piled on the tin roofs. The children play amid the broken-down vehicles with glee, and, as children are apt to do, with little regard for the traffic streaming by inches away from their doorsteps. Suddenly a little girl darts out from between two dwellings, and Jack's lightning-quick reflexes land us all safely on the curb. I don't know how Jack's heart was, but I think I found mine under my tongue, and the boys' eyes were as big as Tata hubcaps. Jack berates the parents of the little girl, with the support of the crowd which has gathered, our hero Jack has "done good" and we're off on the road again.