JANUARY 13
7 a.m. at the Simla Hotel in the Rajasthan desert town of Jaisalmer and the day is trying to get light which is fortunate as the electricity cut out some time back. I am huddled under three layers of thick wool blanket. For the past hour, I have been reading Hunter S Thompson by the light of a Leathermam flashlight. Toby Brocklehurst insisted I would need the flashlight – wise advice given that electricity cuts are common as cockroaches.
North India is suffering a cold snap and under the blankets is the only all-body warmth available after sunset in Jaisalmer. All good restaurants in Jaisalmer advertise magnificent views of the fort from the roof terrace - great for a warm evenings, miserable in a cold snap. Miyuki and Francis have developed an antipathy to Indian curry and we ate Korean last night in the company of some forty Korean juveniles dressed for an Everest expedition (I am packed for the beach). The stew and the soup required two hours preparation. Miyuki telephoned our order in mid afternoon – as if ordering ahead would speed the serving. The cold was a reminder of Bernadette's favorite shaggy dog story: a baby polar bear questions whether he really is a polar bear. If I'm a polar bear, how come I'm freezing my butt off?
Polar bear stories don't do it for Miyuki. Disaster is Japanese humour. We were joined at dinner by a Japanese man whose entire Indian trip has been one ghastly rip-off after another. Miyuki shrieked delight at every detail. Now she is up on the hotel roof giggling away with the disaster prone Japanese, bitterly cold, no electricity, no hot water, the sun not up, and Francis suffering a bout of dysentery. Hilarious...
I do have hot water. I shall uncurl in a little while, shower, take my medication, dress in five layers and stroll to the German bakery for a breakfast of freshly baked croissant and strong coffee – and a wifi connection once the electricty comes back on.
Showing posts with label Simla Hotel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Simla Hotel. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
QUIRKY HOTEL
JANUARY 10
We are booked into the Simla hotel within the fortress. The Simla is a six-room 550-year-old haveli of golden sandstone. The conversion is imaginative. Rooms descend in cost and comfort from first-floor quirky opulence to ground-floor somber meditation cells. My room was once the first floor cloister overlooking a small marble-paved central courtyard. Carved sandstone pillars support the ceiling of polished wood. One corner is walled off as a bathroom with steaming hot shower, hand-basin set in a marble slab and a sit-down lavatory with an effective flush. Much of the rest is an L shaped platform covered with good foam mattresses and piled with bolsters and cushions and pillows of every hue. Arabian nights quirky – so where is the hubble-bubble?
We are booked into the Simla hotel within the fortress. The Simla is a six-room 550-year-old haveli of golden sandstone. The conversion is imaginative. Rooms descend in cost and comfort from first-floor quirky opulence to ground-floor somber meditation cells. My room was once the first floor cloister overlooking a small marble-paved central courtyard. Carved sandstone pillars support the ceiling of polished wood. One corner is walled off as a bathroom with steaming hot shower, hand-basin set in a marble slab and a sit-down lavatory with an effective flush. Much of the rest is an L shaped platform covered with good foam mattresses and piled with bolsters and cushions and pillows of every hue. Arabian nights quirky – so where is the hubble-bubble?
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