Vadodara to Udaipur, With a Stopover in Pakistan

Vadodara is a city of 2 million; far from the size of Mumbai or Delhi, but after driving there I felt like I could drive anywhere. Rush hour ain’t no joke, especially after dark. I got extra practice this time since I left my bag at the first hotel we looked at, and I had to drive back and pick it up. It might sound crazy, but I started to enjoy navigating through the clusterfu** of Indian city streets. Well, enjoy is a bit strong; at least I didn’t shit my pants.

We could have woken up early the next morning, powered through, and made it to Udaipur by nightfall. And if there was a place for a quiet night, Vadodara seemed a good choice. The entire state of Gujarat is dry—for locals at least. Foreigners have to sign up for a special permit, which involves paperwork and passports. But by the time we found a liquor store, in a swanky hotel, it was already closed.

After three straight 300+ km days on the road though, we were ready for a break. 300 kms doesn’t seem far, but consider that the Steamer’s top speed was about 55 km per hour. Every hour or two she also needed a break to cool down, lest her fragile engine overheat; like I said, these things are possibly the worst vehicles to use for a road trip. With food and fuel breaks that makes for a long day.

We had several problems on the way to Vadodara, but most of them were quick fixes. Whenever we
had issues many curious locals wanted to help.

That evening we also reconnected with Pat and Tim at the Country Inn & Suites. Since the hotel is part of the Carlson chain, and Mike has hotel points with them, he was able to book us two rooms. The chain was a welcome break from rock-hard matresses and limited hot water on the road. The hotel staff got a kick out of our ricks—they looked less out of place than at the Grand Hyatt in Goa, but still stuck out like sore thumbs. Mike and I took a stroll around the neighborhood, but the others were happy just to chill in the room. We made it back before 9 pm and all of us were ready for a solid night sleep.

The next morning we took advantage of the free buffet breakfast and headed over to check out the Laxmi Villas Palace. The plan was a bit of sight seeing in the morning, and then a shorter day of driving that afternoon. We hadn’t seen any touristy things since the beach at Goa, so it was about time we took in the sites.

Along the way to the palace we stopped at the Maharaja Sayajirao University, which was on our route and marked on the hotel map I picked up at reception. I’m a weirdo who enjoys exploring university campuses whenever I see a new city. But it was also worth a stop to see the architecture, including the Faculty of Arts dome, which is one of the largest domes in India. Pat and Tim also surprised a bunch of students when they walked in on an English lesson.

The Arts and Science dome

Sam going back to school

I’m not sure if everyone else cared to stop at the university. But I do know that they were impressed by the Laxmi Villas Palace. The palace, built in 1890, is still a private residence for members of the Gaekwad family, a royal lineage whose ancestors ruled the area before the British Raj. The first floor and part of the palace grounds are open for tourists, and the entry fee comes with an audio tour. The interior reminded me of a European palace or country home, with intricate stone carvings, chandeliers, an armoury, and large paintings adorning the walls.

Unfortunately photos were prohibited inside, but the exterior wasn’t too shabby either. Our audio tour lasted over an hour, and after meandering through the rooms open to the public, we ate our complimentary snack—all of us went for a samosa—and then it was off to the rickshaws and back on the road.

That afternoon we drove north along a country road, glad to be away from the highway and the noisy trucks. The hotel staff in Vadodara also recommended we see the Champaner-Pavagadh Archeological Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and former capital of Gujarat. The site, 50 kms from Vadodara, was only a short detour from our route. Why not check it out? When we stopped, however, entry was 500 Rupees and they had no change. We were pretty low on cash and had already paid entry for the palace. I would have gone in, but I could tell the others just wanted to get the show on the road, so we passed.

Not too shabby for a private residence

Tim posing with the real Deere and his rick

At least I got to see the outside of the Archaeological Park;
the ticket office was to my right, so I couldn't go any further

Later that afternoon we drove through the town of Godhra in search of an ATM. We found three, all of which were out of cash. Tim wasn’t feeling it—at one point I overhead him saying, “WTF, are we in Pakistan?!” Godhra is majority Muslim, and to be fair, the town was ugly. The roads were in terrible condition, and many buildings looked ready to fall apart. But despite the shabby facade, when we stopped for the ATM people were as friendly as ever. One guy even invited us to spend the night as his house.

As we waited at a train crossing, a camel pulling a cart walked up next to our rickshaws. To me it was a memorable moment—how many people get to sit next to a camel in traffic? But apparently all the flies from the camel lept on to Tim, who was the closest among us. The camel did smell, and you wouldn’t catch me touching that thing. I think that was about the time I heard his Pakistan comment.

That’s Tim. One minute he can be sociable, the life of the party, joking with locals, but then if something goes wrong it’s fu** this place! I don’t blame him really. This was Tim’s first trip to a developing country. And what a way to get his feet wet.

The town might have been an eyesore, but not
the surrounding countryside

Pat getting a cut; oh, the
place actually had two chairs!

I would soon see both sides of Tim again. That night we found a hotel in a tiny town where we met back up with the main road (we would take the highway the rest of the way to Udaipur in the morning). On our walk around town we met locals at a barber shop; the shop was actually just one chair, a mirror, and an old wooden bench, just in case business was bustling. The guys all seemed friendly, and Pat agreed to get a cut. The barber had a customer, so the five of us first checked out a temple in the town and came back.

While the barber cut Pat’s hair two locals ran off to get whiskey. So much for Gujarat the dry state! A guy who called himself Jigsy asked if we wanted to get drinks and hang out with them. What I gathered was that we would drive to Rajashtan, the next state, to buy booze. The guys spoke some English, but not fluently. Jigsy, who we think at some point claimed to be the mayor of said town, drove me and Tim over the border—it was only about 10 miles though—to a small shop off the side of the highway where we got a bottle of rum and whiskey. Jigsy insisted on paying, and afterwards we went back to our hotel to meet up with Mike, Sam, Pat, and more locals.

We all had a drink on the roof of the hotel, after which the owner asked us to drink in the room. Jigsy knew the owner, but with strict laws about booze if we were too loud someone might complain. It didn’t take long for the ten of us to finish off two bottles, and Jigsy asked us if we should go for more. Mike and Sam just wanted some shut eye, but Pat, Tim and I were happy to continue the night.

Once we got to the liquor store things quickly turned south. Jigsy and the friend who rode with us wanted to have a drink there at the roadside bar, probably because there was no place else—Mike and Sam wanted to sleep in the hotel, and just about everyone else in the small town were already in bed too.

Across the border in Rajashtan, just before the commotion

Most of the time people
simply want to meet foreigners

Tim and Pat got it in their heads that Jigsy and his crew were going to rob us. I’m not sure why they thought so, but once they were freaked out there was no calming them down. Pat pleaded that I come with them and hail a ride alongside the highway. Jigsy told them not to because it was dangerous. Standing beside an Indian highway in the dark is a dangerous thing to do, but Pat and Tim only took that to mean the area wasn’t safe, which reinforced the idea that they needed to get out of there pronto.

I refused to go, so Pat and Tim took off to the other side of the road. Once we finished our beers Jigsy pulled up next to them, offering again to take them back to the hotel. They were having none of it. At that point I was pissed at Pat and Tim and urged Jigsy just to keep driving. I’m still not sure what Pat and Tim thought would happen…the guys wanted to hang out, they drove us in their car, bought us drinks, and then they’d rob me for the grand total of 10 dollars I had on me? Maybe they’d dump my body in the bushes too? If it were back home I’d certainly be more cautious, but this was a small town in India. Everyone wants to meet and hang out with foreigners. These guys were nothing but nice the whole night.

Long story short I survived to tell the tale. They drove me back to the hotel, I apologized for the commotion, and that was that. The next morning I learned that Pat and Tim got a ride back in a police car. They were hitch hiking so the cops drove them! Later in Udaipur we made up and everything was back to normal.