SAMODE PALACE, INDIA
Variety is the spice of life they say. Yet, one grey November morning, sitting in front of my computer, while rain hammered down outside, I realised I couldn’t think of a single new experience I’d had in weeks. At 29 years old, I was starting to sleepwalk through life. Time to check the bucket list, and India was number one. And it turns out most people are ready for an adventure – they’re just looking for an excuse. When I mentioned my plans to travel through Rajasthan (literally Land of Kings) in the north-east of India, four friends booked their flights and, before I knew it, we were thrust into the magical city of Jaipur.
As a fashion stylist, I thrive on planning, but we decided to only book our first two nights and work the rest out on the go. I found a thrill in the spontaneity – one night spent at an elephant stables outside the huge palace walls, another in a small family-run hotel in a town called Bundi. It felt freer – as if I was truly living in each moment.
My perspective on time changed, too. By day three, after visiting the sunbleached sculptures at Jantar Mantar, feeding monkeys outside a temple carved into a rockface and buying hand-printed clothes in beautiful boutiques, it felt like we’d been there for weeks. In London, whole months could pass in a flash, yet here time seemed to slow down.
We did organise one experience. After two weeks of travelling on trains to crumbling temples, and vibrant markets, we headed to 475-year-old Samode Palace, still owned by the royal family, but converted into a 42-room spa hotel. After crossing the courtyard with its marble floors and butter-yellow walls we flopped by the pool alongside some monkey visitors.
Later we were given a tour of the palace. Mirrored walls painted with turquoise flowers looked like quilts, while handprinted wallpaper in reds and pinks trailed down from yellow glass windows. A gallery hall hand-illustrated from floor to ceiling looked into a lower room where kings would hold court. This was more than just a hotel, it was like going back in time. That night, we dined on vegetable curries and buttery rotis, before taking our mojito cocktails up to the Jacuzzi on our rooftop terrace – did I mention this was pure luxury? We laughed into the night, and watched the stars until my four-poster bed, fit for a maharani, beckoned.
The next evening, a guide took us out in an open-top jeep to show us the surrounding nature, thanking each plant as he plucked a leaf for us to smell. We climbed to the top of the Aravalli Hills to take in the world below and as the golden sunlight dissolved into deep powder-pink skies, I reflected on all the literal and metaphorical steps I had taken and knew this trip had changed my life.