DAY THIRTY SEVEN
A rest day in Alwar, or rather no cycling, just walking around the city, trying to avoid the traffic weaving motorbikes with horns blaring non-stop.
Our sightseeing included another tomb, this time to a kind-hearted minister (not too many of those nowadays). Followed by a walk in the so called “city lungs”, a large park with a rather dilapidated green house, disappointingly filled with common house plants, such as the “Swiss Cheese Plant” or maiden hair ferns, and definitely zero orchids.
Not wanting to miss the intense crowded roads & motorbike jousting experience, we went back to the main bazaar, looking for gifts to take home. A rather bland Tibetan Market with synthetic fabric warm clothing, some colourful lanes of bangles, women’s wear, plastic trinkets and a fruit & vegetable market. But hardly anything worthy of carrying back home.
As night fell, many wedding processions past along the streets with mega deafening sound systems mounted on pick-up trucks, followed by dancing wedding goers, punctuated by military grade fireworks (more like a war zone that a festival of life-long love to be).
