The last blog concluded with an action packed day in Jaipur starting with a 4am trip to a temple, Yogi Dave ‘yabba dabba doo-ing’ in his ladies yoga class and a full on modelling shoot with Becky B and her morbidly obese ankles. It was funny, it was chaotic, it was another day in India…

Jaipur – Day 7

Day 7 was a relaxing one for us. Or as relaxing as a day in India can be. It started with another trip to Nitin’s school in the slums (Saksham) with the preschool children and Dave (aka Big D, Dad, Yogi D, Flexible D etc etc) ensuring he wore his own shoes as opposed to stealing someone else’s (see previous blog for more information on Big D losing his glasses and thus becoming a shoe thief). Post school antics occurred when Big D decided he was in need of a shave and I finally concurred my eyebrows were in desperate need of a threading session, mainly because they had decided to take over my entire face. Unfortunate and definitely not pretty but luckily I was in India the birth place of threading. Ladu, Nitin’s seven year old daughter escorted us to the nearest barbers and beauty salon. Big Dave sat down whilst his barber wrapped a cloak around him and as he pulled out a machete there was fear in Dave’s eyes. He needn’t have worried though, he got a beard shave, head massage and a broken conversation with his Indian barber for the grand old price of 50p. I too was happy to trade 30p for a brand-new set of perfect eyebrows. We were good to go for our relaxing day in Jaipur…

The Jackson clan decided they required India pants (you know, the baggy ‘Ali Baba’ style) so we ventured to the Pink City for a spot of shopping and haggling. We found James scoping out some sunglasses;
“How much?!!! 200 rupees!!?Behave!” he bellowed as he got into the swing of things and decided he was absolutely not paying £2 for a pair of sunglasses. That man could get a job as a professional haggler. I was having so much watching him haggle for things he didn’t even want that I fell off the curb and chopped the end of my toe off (sort of).
“Guys, guys!!!! I’m dying! Oh my god my toe’s fallen off…and there’s a good chance I’ll step in cow poo!” I screamed as the skin at the edge of my raw wound flapped around inviting all sorts of hepatitis and tetanus to the end of toe party.
We cleaned it with hand sanitiser and then covered it with a dusty tissue. Who needs Sudocrem and plasters anyway? Then we headed towards the tuk tuks, with me dragging my tetanus toe, to go and meet Nitin at a café for lunch.

The boys got in one tuk tuk and myself, Natay, Becky B and Big D got in another. Nitin called us and spoke to the drivers in Hindi to give directions.
“Do you know where you’re going?” we asked the tuk tuk driver. He nodded his head in an Indian head wobble (have you even been to India if you haven’t witnessed the Head Wobble?!) and gave us a resounding yes. His mate double checked and also gave us a big thumbs up. “See you there” we yelled at the boys, “ten minutes max…”
Ten minutes later. And we were still driving.
Twenty minutes later. Still driving.
Thirty minutes later. Yep…still driving. In. Circles. In a vehicle that was so slow people were passing us on foot.
“I think” said Big Dave scratching his chin (which was hair free due to his early morning Indian shave) “that we are lost…..” No shit Sherlock.
On and on we went, round and round in circles with my tetanus toe getting more and more tetanus-ified. Natay was getting more stares at her pale freckly skin as the whole of Jaipur caught glimpses of the ginger girl with leprosy. At one point we had to refrain her from hanging out of the tuk tuk and screaming; “I AM NOT INFECTED! NOT DISEASED! I’M JUST GINGER AND THESE ARE MY FRECKLES.” Obvs we refrained her.
Forty minutes later. Still driving (very slowly) around Jaipur. This was my fourth visit to the city and this driver was taking me to places I’d never seen before. We stopped, asked for directions, got a few head wobbles and a confident grin from our driver and off we went again.

Fifty minutes later and we’d given up hope. We’d driven past James’s sunglasses stall at least three times and spotted the blood stained curb that held the top of my toe hostage twice.
Sixty minutes later and we started to wonder if we’d even make our flight home the following week. I wondered how many years had passed and was no longer sure of my age.
And then.
The unimaginable happened.
We saw the café. The meeting point. Was it a hallucination? And then we saw Nitin getting out of his car and waving at us.
“We’re here!!!!!!” yelled Yogi D unfolding his new flexible body from the back of the tuk tuk. We scrambled out, my tetanus toe clinging to its dusty tissue for dear life. We’d been in the tuk tuk that long Dave’s beard had almost grown back and my eyebrows needed re-threading. We ran to Nitin so fast it was like we we’d just found a long lost family member post apocalypse. “Where have you been?!” he asked, “I’ve been driving round looking for you!….Eurgh….and what’s happened to your toe?”

The boys were sat inside chilling, having arrived fifty minutes earlier because their tuk tuk driver knew where he was going. James was trying to haggle for a burger.
“James…you can’t haggle in a café. Especially a posh one.” Things that happen in India.
So, my family learnt one more lesson on the way for lunch…never trust a Jaipur tuk tuk driver who ‘knows’ where he is going. Because he probably doesn’t. But when he’s trying to make money to feed his family it’s hard to get annoyed. Even if you have got tetanus. Or leprosy.

We finished our food and then had the task of getting back to Nitins’. Naturally we thought it would be wise to all fit in his tiny little car. Seven Jacksons and him. That’s a total of five men (some relatively tall), three girls, James quiff and Joe’s extra large bottle of hand sanitiser in a small Suzuki. Needless to say this did not happen. Big Dave, Sam and Joe loaded in the back and then myself, Natay and Becky B attempted to climb on top of them. There was no room for our legs so it resulted in us just lying across the laps with the entirety of our lower halves hanging out of the doors.
“Guys” breathed Becky B with her face smothered in Joes armpit. “I don’t think this is working.” She’s always been wise has Becky B. “The girls will get a tuk tuk!”
“I think you’re right” I screamed as I grazed my tetanus toe against the car door. It hurt. And my dusty tissue finally fell off. That’s when the beggar lady started pulling my t shirt from behind, as I was howling with a gammy toe and trying to untangle myself from the mass of limbs inside the car. Then I hit my head on the side of the car and the woman tugged me harder. Natay and Becky B ambled across the car park to a tuk tuk and I hobbled along after them. With the beggar lady still attached to my back. Then I kicked a stone with my dodgy toe and as I bent down to ease the blood flow from my gaping wound the lady tugged me once more. Now, usually I’m a very patient traveller, beggars and touts don’t irritate me too much and I’ve gotten used to them but this moment was all a bit too much.
“BACK OFF!!!!!” I yelled, “I’M DYING HERE!!!!”
Ok, so it might have been slightly dramatic but nobody appreciates being manhandled whilst half their toe is missing, they’ve hit their head and they are fully aware another tuk tuk journey in Jaipur could take them a lightyear to get home.

It was quite dramatic for a relaxing day, but that’s India for you. Nobody had the squirty poo’s on this day which was a bonus and we all made it home in one piece. The day ended with us playing ‘what would you do/would you rather’ with Deepti and Haima (Nitin’s wife and mum);
“Deepti…what would you do if you hit a cow on your moped?” Cows are holy in India and Deepti was adamant it wouldn’t happen.
“Haima, would you rather hit a cow or a person?” Haima informed us neither or the two situations would occur.
“Deepti what would you do if you saw a cow hit a person?” these questions were getting way too complex now and the Indians in the room assured the Jacksons that non of this would happen in India. Apparently this game isn’t as common in Jaipur as it is the Jackson family parties.

Then Nitin advised me to go and get a tetanus shot for my manky toe. But that was a sensible idea…so obviously I ignored him.

Jaipur – Day 8
We were supposed to be leaving Jaipur but it was the Gangaur Festival so we decided to stay. From what I understand the festival is a devotion to women, however I understand very little so don’t take that as gospel.
The day started with a trip to the women’s centre where the ladies of the slums learn to make clothing which, with Nitin and Deepti’s help, they are trying to sell. As it was a women’s festival myself, Natay and Becky B decided to get some henna done to get in the spirit. Me and Becky B sat on the floor being decorated by some of the ladies whilst Natay was taken off to another room upstairs.

Big Dave felt left out so he got a bit of henna on his arm too. Typical Tattoo Dave – always got to be in on the action! Deepti ran through the door (we were accompanying her to her in laws family’s house for an annual women’s gathering – Big D was there for the ride, the other Jackson guys were elsewhere) to hurry us up as we were going to be late. Where was Natay? Suddenly she came trundling down the stairs of the women’s centre with her leprosy riddled face even paler than usual.
“So I was escorted upstairs for my henna” she began “and there was this heavily pregnant lady on the bed. I swear she was ready to burst. And she made me sit down next to her so she could do my henna. And she kept panting and screaming…I think she was in labour…she was definitely in pain.” Apparently, the lady was adamant she was going to henna Natay up, labour or no labour. Then she kept feeding Natay water, because when you’re in labour keeping someone else hydrated is obviously your main priority, as Natay sat and wondered if she would be delivering her first child, in India, whilst having her forearm tattooed. She definitely witnessed the generosity of the Indians to their guests.

Armed with henna tattoos we arrived at Nitin’s uncles house. Tattoo Dave had to sit in a bedroom with the other male elders whilst the girls were taken off to the ceremony in a room upstairs. The Indian ladies were very friendly and willingly let us join in their ceremony. They waved us into the room as they sat crossed legged on the floor. It was a small room with a bed in the corner which was covered with things. I reckon the room probably fit about five people and it already had twelve in it. The ladies smiled and gestured for us to join them. Except we had no idea where to physically join them as there was not a single uninhabited space. As an India veteran I should have known better…there’s always space for more and if an Indian person ever tells you ‘it’s full’ they’re lying. Eventually, after a few knocks to my tetanus toe (which was doing quite well by the way), a few knees to heads and a couple of yelps as fingers were crunched we made it to the bed where we arranged ourselves like Tetris blocks on top of one another. We’d made it. Deepti and Haima were already laughing at us. Then the ladies started chanting. Obviously, we had absolutely no idea what they were saying so we had to improvise with our own murmurs. Then they shared out some wheat grass and started tapping the strands together whilst linking fingers with the person next to them. And there we were, three bewildered Brits, henna’d up and sat in someone’s bedroom making up a chant whilst tapping floppy bits of grass together and occasionally flicking some water. It was a sight. And we had no idea what was happening. Every now and then Deepti or Haima would look over and give us a chuckle and the other ladies would throw a giggle our way. We felt very welcomed and included even if we weren’t entirely sure what we were being included in.

Twenty minutes later, just as the cramp was kicking in, the grass tapping and chanting stopped and we were sat at a table eating lunch. Real Indian food is the best, it’s mine and Lyvette’s all time fave in our travelling experience so we were happy to sit and munch, but they do have some very sweet desserts and many, for a westerner, aren’t that welcome on the pallet. Becky B (the greedy bitch) accepted two pieces of dessert. Then we were informed that it was polite to eat everything on our plate. I took one nibble of my sweet and my teeth nearly rotted out of my head and I swear my throat closed up… and I like sweet stuff. I glanced at Becky B who was sat, thinking the exact same thing as me, staring at the two pieces of dessert in front of her, willing it disappear and wondering why on earth she thought she needed two pieces.
“Come on Becky….eat up.”

Once we had retrieved Big D from the bedroom with the elders (they’d all had a nap whilst we’d been tapping grass) we met the other boys in the Pink City for a festival. This festival included music, dancing, performances and animals. As James was busy trying to haggle for a clacker (apparently 20p was just too much) myself and Natay decided to sit on the floor (which is very daring in India) just in front of the barriers, as we are pretty short and we couldn’t see. This was all fine, we had front row seats and were in the midst of all the action. We were having a jolly old time, waving our henna’d arms around. And then the elephants came past. Now, there were people riding the elephants and a man in front keeping them in line. We were in safe hands. Until one elephant veered off route heading straight towards us. We expected it to stop but it didn’t. Natay screamed and scrambled backwards, freckles flying everywhere as she tried to get through the masses of people. I just sat and watched in fear as this large beast and its tusks headed for my face. My heart rate reached an all time high and I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing for a good thirty seconds. Suddenly tetanus toe seemed to be the least of my worries. And then, at the last minute the elephant was coerced back on track. At that moment I desperately needed a Kingfisher Strong.

Post festival we attempted the thankless task of finding a tuk tuk driver in Jaipur that knew where he was going. Luckily this time we were armed with Deepti and she haggled and discussed with the drivers in Hindi as I attended to my tetanus toe, Joe sanitised his hands for the twenty-eighth time in three minutes and Sam wondered if there was anywhere he could get his ears cleaned (see first blog). Meanwhile Natay was wondering if henna lady had given birth yet, Becky B was in a sugar induced coma due to her two desserts, Yogi D was wondering if he was now bendy enough to touch his toes and James was busy chatting with some locals.
He’s an interesting guy is James. I think its his perfect quiff to be honest -it makes lots of friends. As he was leaving, James turned to shake hands with his new friend…

And then a bird flew over and shit on it.

So there was James, stood with his hand extended ready for the shake, covered in bird poo. His new friend politely declined and went off leaving James staring at the mess before him.
“Only in India” he sighed grateful that Joe was on hand with his extra large sanitiser.

And the shit on James’s hand concluded our stay in Jaipur. We were well and truly welcomed by Nitin and Deepti and the rest of their family and it was fantastic to see the work they do with the women and children of the slums. Without them I’m not sure my family’s trip to India would have been the same.

In Jaipur we experienced stomach issues, yoga, modelling, Dave stealing shoes, festivals, forts and a near death experience with an elephant. I chopped my toe off, Natay was ogled at for her skin, Becky B’s ankles swelled to the size of a rugby ball and BABs (Big Ankle Becky) was back and I laughed more than I have laughed in a very long time.

But the Indian adventure was not over yet for the Jackson clan. Unbeknown to us we still had camel safari’s to embrace, Kingfisher hangovers to endure, assaults to avoid and funerals to attend. But that’s for the final blog on our trip to India…