Bad night for an infernal uproar below the hotel, due to the wedding of that blockhead saw yesterday on horseback. Tun, turututun, tun tun. Obsession. Then at dawn, even before the prayer of the muezzin, a drummer who the night before had not given full vent to anger (typical betrayed lover) has revived another solo of turututun. Cursed. The appearance of Kumbhalghar reconciled us with life, a stronghold crowds for its extension (36 km of walls so thick that can be crossed by eight horses side by side), for the fortifications (700 gun emplacements ), for worship (360 temples). It was conquered only once but after only two days the same invaders decided to leave. From here where we are now, the fabulous Taj Lake Palace, we would rather the desire not to leave again. White marble emerging from the lake of Udaipur, the waterfall of petals landing, refinement and preciousness in every corner. Sundowner aperitif in the palace of the kind rulers, dinner on the terrace of the other hotel that faces our and that admires its the magical elegance. the invitation said "smart casual ". At the blue jacket I paired a pair of old, elegant grey trousers. But they were too tight. Rita had to move the buttons and, like Mrs. Pina Fantozzi, she pitifully sewn them in the front...
