(Alice) The Ranas of Mewar trace their ancestry back to the sun, and after ruling from nearby Chittaugarh they founded Udaipur in 1559. Portraits and lineage charts of the Maharanas going back to the 7th century are on display in the City Palace.
The Mewars weren't networking types, remaining mostly independent from the Mughuls and other neighbors, and managed to even avoid most British influence after coming under Crown control in the early 1800s. The equestrian Mewars mixed it up with the elephant-mounted Mughals in many bloody battles. Maharana Pratap Singh devised a fake elephant trunk to attach to his faithful steed Chewak. This was a game-changer, as the Mughal mounts would not charge what appeared to be a baby elephant.
Udaipur is bordered by gates, moats and Pichola Lake, on which sits the beautiful Lake Palace of Octopussy fame. There has evolved a local cottage industry of roof terrace restaurants that show Octopussy while you eat and drink and laugh at Roger Moore's 80s-era take on James Bond in an exotic but santized India, all while you overlook the actual scenery.
The architecture is a bricolage of Rajput, Mughal, Hindu and Islamic influences, with bold folk-art murals splashed onto walls indoors and out. Rythms of colored glass, tiles, mirrors and ornately painted trim are tempered by walls of austere white, pale blues and yellows. Abundant archways, gates and contrasting wood shutters visually invite your passage into other places.
Jewelrysmiths and tailors operate out of tiny shops completely open to the edge of the winding streets, and as you walk by you can almost peer over their shoulders as they work. You are aware of constant passage through private and public spaces, but differently felt than western concepts of indoors/ outdoors.
The winding streets are jammed with every activity of gods, humans and animals. Tuesday is Hanauman's day, and our first evening stroll brings us to a well-visited shrine to the monkey-god. Devotees light fires and drape marigold garlands next to an idol that looks like a giant gold-leafed Mr. Potato Head. Two dozen men sit in the alley across from the shrine, playing instruments and chanting feverishly for hours.
Wednesday is Ganesha's day, the remover of obstacles and god of planners. The interior courtyard of our hotel has a large Ganesha shrine, visited by some locals as well as guests. A large tree in front of our hotel also has its devotees, with burnt candles and incense surrounding its base: our hotel owner says that Vishnu and Lakshmi live there, and bring prosperity.
Thursday is Sai Baba day, and on our way to Octopussy, there are lights, music and religious frenzy in progress at his shrine next to the spice factory.
One unexpected image or activity after another barrages the visiting pedestrian to the point where I begin to experience camera fatigue. My head can barely contain it all, much less my memory card.
The Mewars weren't networking types, remaining mostly independent from the Mughuls and other neighbors, and managed to even avoid most British influence after coming under Crown control in the early 1800s. The equestrian Mewars mixed it up with the elephant-mounted Mughals in many bloody battles. Maharana Pratap Singh devised a fake elephant trunk to attach to his faithful steed Chewak. This was a game-changer, as the Mughal mounts would not charge what appeared to be a baby elephant.
Udaipur is bordered by gates, moats and Pichola Lake, on which sits the beautiful Lake Palace of Octopussy fame. There has evolved a local cottage industry of roof terrace restaurants that show Octopussy while you eat and drink and laugh at Roger Moore's 80s-era take on James Bond in an exotic but santized India, all while you overlook the actual scenery.
The architecture is a bricolage of Rajput, Mughal, Hindu and Islamic influences, with bold folk-art murals splashed onto walls indoors and out. Rythms of colored glass, tiles, mirrors and ornately painted trim are tempered by walls of austere white, pale blues and yellows. Abundant archways, gates and contrasting wood shutters visually invite your passage into other places.
Jewelrysmiths and tailors operate out of tiny shops completely open to the edge of the winding streets, and as you walk by you can almost peer over their shoulders as they work. You are aware of constant passage through private and public spaces, but differently felt than western concepts of indoors/ outdoors.
The winding streets are jammed with every activity of gods, humans and animals. Tuesday is Hanauman's day, and our first evening stroll brings us to a well-visited shrine to the monkey-god. Devotees light fires and drape marigold garlands next to an idol that looks like a giant gold-leafed Mr. Potato Head. Two dozen men sit in the alley across from the shrine, playing instruments and chanting feverishly for hours.
Wednesday is Ganesha's day, the remover of obstacles and god of planners. The interior courtyard of our hotel has a large Ganesha shrine, visited by some locals as well as guests. A large tree in front of our hotel also has its devotees, with burnt candles and incense surrounding its base: our hotel owner says that Vishnu and Lakshmi live there, and bring prosperity.
Thursday is Sai Baba day, and on our way to Octopussy, there are lights, music and religious frenzy in progress at his shrine next to the spice factory.
One unexpected image or activity after another barrages the visiting pedestrian to the point where I begin to experience camera fatigue. My head can barely contain it all, much less my memory card.
Wednesday before sunset, we take a boat ride on Lake Pichola, turning gold-orange along with our surroundings as the sun goes down and Lake Palace torches light up. We dine outdoors lakeside, a tabla player on a low stage nearby,sinking into our seats. Are we imagining all this? To deepen that thought, a full moon dreamily rises over a palace spire. Is anythingthis perfect? The question shimmers on the water as fireworks-- yes,really-- explode over Lake Palace.
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