As we set off on our two hour road trip to Udai Bilas hotel our driver was horrified that we were spending four nights in a dead end rural town with nothing going on. "Too much, you will be very bored". We started to worry we had made a mistake. We had just met a very dapper, cravate-wearing hotelier who claimed he owned the property - just 50km outside Udaipur - now world famous for being the setting of the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which we knew in fact was just outside Udaipur. We were offered a stay there should we chose to return. No doubt many men in Udaipur will make this claim but he seemed kosher.
But just five minutes inside the grounds of Udai Bilas and we unreservedly resolved to honour every minute of our four-night booking.
The Palace is a 19th century downsize from a far older and sprawling 12th century Juna Mahal Palace (well worth a visit) in the nearby town - the amusingly named "Dungarpur" - which had remained consistently in the same family of Maharajas for 800 years. (We met both the unofficial incumbent and the future heirs). They live in one wing of what was converted into a truly unique hotel experience in the 1930s to help with maintenance costs. Having roamed Rajashtan enjoying its countless Palaces and Forts, to finish up the roadtrip actually living in a Palace was a special treat and a perfect venue for a what in India would always be a very strange Christmas.
Just like the Palaces all across the Desert State, Udai Bilas is a museum to the eccenticities of power courtesy of the last officially ruling Maharaja - Laxman Singh. There's a series of photos telling a tale of a strong love for Cricket in the family, and no end of photos of one glamourous trip after another as well as political and regal pomp and circumstance. Most disturbing, and exceedingly un-PC - though is the drawing room in which we were invited to have sundowners on the first evening.
We counted about 200 heads on the wall - of shot game that is. Wilderbeast, Rhinos, Boar, Gazelles etc. All with "shot" dates ranging from the late 1950s to the early 1980s. A prolific - if not decidedly distasteful - shooting career. The room contained even more distrubing detail. Here and there, the foot of an Elephant or the hoofs of Gazelle had been converted into the legs for small foot stools. With the guests a motley crew of eclectic western tourists from Australia and England, any moment now we expected Hercule Poirot to enter and explain a perplexing murder.
The proportion of staff to guest was almost one-to-one it seemed which further emphasised the sense of Palacial living. The Hotel manager, one H. V. Singh, had the air of Mr Benn about him. Whenever a question popped into your head, "as if by magic" the Hotel manager would appear and answer it. He seemed to have the telepathic qualities of M*A*S*H's Radar. The staff went to extraorinary trouble to accommodate our Christmas, with Christmas Lunch served on the lawn by the lake - ironically across from the Shiva Temple - and while dubious in places certainly served to fill a festive hole.
Lazing by the quite beautiful Lakeside pool, walks in the local town (filled with some of the most welcoming and friendly people I've ever had the privilege of meeting) and extravagant dinners at the al fresco marble/jacuzi dining table characterised the rest of the stay, building towards a climax of Christmas Day evening drinks in the Maharajah's personal Automobile museum which included a not inconsiderable collection of a Buick, several BMWs, a E-Type and all manor of other paraphenalia and memorabilia.
For fans of the Marigold, there are enough Indian-isms to make the experience authentic: power-cuts, plumbing idiosynchracies, spelling mistakes in the menu, food that demands bravery - that sort of thing. But for a very reasonable spend, anyone travelling in the area and looking for that unique, regal and highly memorable break - Udai Bilas is for you!