We take the train again, this time to Jodhpur, swapping the pink city for the blue one. After a terrible night's sleep I suffer through another 4am wake-up and hasty dash for the railway station and arrive to the city exhausted. Luckily we've pre-arranged a pick-up and it isn't long before we find ourselves at the beginning of the long walk up to the Castleview Guesthouse.

If first impressions were everything, Castleview would be an unqualified failure. Cow patties and garbage heaps await as you enter a narrow alley that leads to a winding and uphill path; and after turning some tight corners while trying to hold your breath, you're met with a single flight of steep, narrow steps that leads to the main entrance. The walk brought flashbacks of Varanasi, similar in every detail except the color of the walls. But it is precisely because of this long and tiresome slog through garbage and feces that Castleview succeeds. By the time you've reached the top, you've already written off the place, expecting the worst and ready to be disappointed. What you least expect is to be greeted with such a grand sight as this:

It's called Castleview for a reason

By the time of our arrival, it is late afternoon and the sun's light has softened; no longer harsh and glaring, but warm and golden, reflecting beautifully off the sandstone walls of mighty Mehranghar Fort. And because Jodhpur is home to so many Brahmins, the Old City surrounding Mehranghar is painted in varied hues of blue (their holy color) making Jodhpur one of the most photogenic cities in all of India. Long after we've caught our breath, we are still on the landing taking in the view. And the best part? We've got the best room in the house, top floor "penthouse suite" where we wake up to such a stellar view every morning.

If Castleview is forgiven its squalid first impression because of its view, it succeeds because of its owner. Amit has been living in this house since birth and still recalls playing cricket in the foyer and running around its rooftops as a child. In fact, the place has been in his family for four generations and when his parents moved to the new city, he couldn't bear to sell it and so turned it into a guesthouse.

Being so old, the place is crowded with antiques; not bought and brought from bazaar stalls to be displayed declaratively, but well worn and used over 200 years by him and members of his family. It gives the place an air of authenticity which I love, and as he sits behind the heavy, intricately carved, chest of teak and brass that serves as his desk, I have a hard time imagining anyone else sitting in his place.

Amit (a.k.a. the Indian RP) owner of Castleview

Amit has an easy and unhurried way about him that reminds me of a childhood friend of mine. This is reinforced by the fact that he is also my friend's spitting image, so naturally, I find myself at ease around him. He proves to be reliable and honest (also common traits) although it takes us a while to see this given our experience in Delhi. He's most definitely Indian in that everything is "no problem" and "all is possible" but, of all the considerable tasks we've put to him, he has yet to disappoint.

Like Varanasi, Jodhpur's maze-like streets encourages one to get lost and with everything painted in varying hues of blue, that's exactly what happens whether intended or not. I do this on my own since the onset of age has blunted my parents' urge to explore and as I wander aimlessly in the Old City, hopelessly lost and uncaring, I am present and happy. Getting lost animates the brain in a way that sharpens the senses and focuses the mind. The same mechanism that sets the brain on auto-pilot when in familiar surroundings, the very one that dulls sensation and encourages mental drift, completely disengages when you get lost.

Old City maintenance

I walk around Jodhpur taking photographs and talking to locals. Along the way I meet some campaigners for Congress, the Indian conservative party, and learn that local elections are only days away. I ask them what are the issues they care about most but get only canned propaganda in return. I stumble across a film crew shooting a Bollywood film featuring one of the many Khans, befriend a 70 year-old who doesn't look a day over fifty and whose portrait I promise to mail, and a young boy of 7 or 8 named Bhavesh who, upon telling him I know his namesake in Canada says, "Canada? I love Canada. It is my favorite country!"

You cannot talk of Jodhpur without speaking of Mehrangarh, that indomitable presence carved straight into the escarpment around which the city is built. After having seen enough forts in the rest of India to last me a lifetime, I thought I would have had enough. But Mehrangarh is different. This impregnable fortification is the fortress to end all fortresses, or in the nerdish parlance of that 80s sensation "Transformers", is the Metroplex to everywhere else's Fortress Maximus.

View of Mehrangarh from the opposite side. Trebuchet who?

It is a behemoth of a thing and I still cannot fathom the colossal arrogance and audacity it would take to think that something so absolutely massive could be hewn into the cliff, and yet it there it is staring me in the face.

Never taken by force, this bastion of strength and invulnerability, defying the ages as it has defied so many armies in its time, is the stunning masterstroke of the Rajputs. Wandering its battlements gets the imagination firing and I feel like a kid again as I try to visualize repelled kings, frustrated and defeated, beating a retreat in the face of Mehrangarh's towering walls.

After three full days exploring the Blue City, I leave satisfied with my time here. Jodhpur has been good to me and I am thankful. What a wonderful place! Next we push deeper into the Thar desert to visit Jaisalmer.