Amber Palace — Photo courtesyÚ Rod Waddington — Wikimedia Commons
As I continue reading my old letters, I’ve arrived in Jaipur. I remember much of the visit to the Amer Palace, eleven kilometres from the pink city. But there’s always some tit bit you’ve forgotten. We walked up the hill to the four hundred year old palace rather than pay the fifty rupees for the elephant ride. While we had a stroller for my youngest daughter, my poor three year old had to plod along with us. She trudged up the hill until eventually I carried her the final distance. Once in the palace, we found it surprisingly cool and were able to look out on the old abandoned city and over the artificial lake, I’d completely forgotten about. It was a peaceful setting, especially compared with the Jaipur streets filled with more camels that the usual cows, goats and oxen as well as cars, bikes and rickshaws that vied for the same space, or so my letter says.