Indian Observations

Observations on India.

Over the past five months we've come across some interesting idiosyncrasies that make India just that little bit unique, here are some of them....

Cricket -
Indians are absolutely fanatical about the sport. Even the poorest most remote villages have a boundary marked out and a makeshift wicket in place. Cricket pitches are snookered into the most impossible of spaces, an uphill street, by a river bank, on a rooftop. School yards typically have multiple games on the go. And that's just the children! There are three dedicated national TV channels showing around the clock highlights of world cricket. Every business has a television or radio in the corner with the cricket on. For the male adults it's the main source of conversation. Once the Australian passport comes out it's predictably a "Ricky Ponting this...", "Brett Lee that..." twenty minute debate. The cricket players themselves are national superstars enjoying lucrative sponsorship deals. During our time in India the controversy over Symonds and racial abuse was brewing and the Indian media was playing into the hands of the emotional fanatics. The normal mudslinging followed by players reactions was meticulously over-reported. Speaking from my neutral standing point - it was amusing to watch an interview with an Australian player, one sentence would typically be taken out of context of the whole interview and it would suddenly be making the "breaking news" ticker across the Indian news channels. This happened so regularly that it was clear the whole exercise was to hype up the crowds and create heightened tension and excitement rather than animosity.

The MRP (Maximum Retail Price)
It's a godsend to travellers - and an idea that should be adapted elsewhere in this world. The MRP or Maximum Retail Price is the highest price, inclusive of taxes, that can be charged for any item. Everything in India from bottled water, soap, televisions, kitchen tiles and cars all have an MRP clearly marked on it as part of the packaging. The MRP is designed to give the shopkeeper a healthy profit and to regulate pricing. In theory everyone benefits - in practise there are opportunists who'll blatantly and illegally overcharge travellers. If you're heading to India the MRP is your friend.

The Indian Head Wiggle -
The infamous Indian head wiggle, it's a bizarre Indian trait that takes alot of getting used to. Does it mean a "yes" or a "no" ... in actual fact it can mean "yes", "no", "maybe" or "I don't know but I'm being friendly" depending on who is answering the question. In short the golden rule is that you can never ever trust a straight answer out of a wiggle. To do this is to assume the answer. Infuriatingly there have been countless times when we've enquired about rooms or asked about buses to a destination only to get a wiggle back. I've often wiggled back at them asking does this mean yes or no ... only to get another wiggle in return. There is a solution though, you simply don't ask a question that has a binary yes or no answer i.e. "Which bus goes to Delhi?" or "How much are your rooms?" this tactic forces the answerer into a worded answer which dispells any ambiguous wiggling.

Once this questioning technique is mastered the battle is half over. Our western nod indicating "no" is very very similar to an Indian wiggle and is as such determined as one by Indians. We've been full to the brim in restaurants and the waiter has come over to dole out another load of rice and curry, naturally our automatic response has been to very vigorously nod to the negative. This nod "No" is interpreted as a "bring it on" and the food starts appearing on the plate. There is only one way we've found to stem the tide is to put our hand over the plate physically creating a barrier and say "no" resisting any impulsive movement of the head. It's actually very difficult to do.

Queueing -
The British left behind the notion of an orderly queue and for the most part people know the rules but don't really follow them. When someone comes to join a queue they'll regularly slot themselves into a space in the queue rather than join the back. It's almost as if the space is a delimiter between those who are in the queue and those who are considering joining the queue but haven't yet committed - hence the space. If a "slotter" into the queue is challenged they'll adamantly defend their positioning truly believing they are next in line. Once you make it to top of any queue it's a free for all as there is always someone with a special need that merits a complete queue skip more often than not it's opportunism.

When it comes to ladies it's a different story altogether, by right a lady can go straight the top of any queue and be served next. This leads to the conundrum of two queues at the one counter, one of ladies and one men. In this case the rule is that the queues are serviced in a round robin fashion. In busy places like train stations there is the concept of an exclusive "ladies queue". Skipping of any nature in this queue is simply not an option. It's a civilised yet cutthroat military style line where everyone knows precisely who is next. In an effort to keep things tight and eliminate any potential gaps the ladies bury their knuckles in the small of the back of the person in front and lean in. The result is an uncomfortable, painful pressure to lean forward and psychological push towards the front. As the ladies queue is generally shorter than any of the general queues most of the women have been solicited to buy tickets by men. At Varanasi train station there were so many men trying to skip to the top of the ladies queue that a policeman had to come along with a big stick to disperse the menfolk and patrol the ladies area.


City Eating -
In big Indian cities supporting millions of people you would expect numerous cheap and cheerful restaurants to service the masses. In reality in many of the cities there is a surprising dearth of budget eating places. Restaurants tend to be of the more expensive airconditioned, white table cloth variety. So the question arises - where does everyone eat? The answer is at the street stalls. City workers seem to snack continuously during the day. There are different snacks depending on the time of day and there are no queueing rules when it comes to getting close to a busy street vendor. Small carts can be found in every city whipping up chappatis, dhals, samosas, deserts and a host of different snacks for thousands of people. Every corner has it's stall brewing up chai sold in disposable terracotta cups, one user only, then it's smashed on the ground.


Alcohol -
As a Hindu nation alcohol is not consumed by the vast majority of Indians. In emerging well to do cities like Mumbai and Bangalore there are lots of fancy bars and nightclubs. These places are of the exception and accessible only to an elite few. For the ordinary citizen alcohol is consumed quickly outside the ubiquitous 'English Wine Shop'. The Wine Shops are small shops hidden away behind security grills. Huge measures of cheap brandy or whiskey are served out through a hatch in plastic cups. There is no social element to consumption, groups of men gather, fire back some seriously strong shots and stagger home drunk. There is no middle ground, it's all or nothing. The alcohol itself is priced on volume rather than on strength. So it's cheaper to buy a half bottle of whiskey or brandy than a beer - this encourages consumption of more potent liquors. Without any social aspect to consumption this seems set to continue as a growing concern.

The advertising of alcohol is another bizarre aspect of India. India makes it's own brands of beers and spirits, all of which are heavily advertised on TV but under the guise of other products. Young models will dance around drinkless having a good time and then a ridiculous voiceover will come on saying Royal Challenge Golf Accessories (Whiskey) or White Mischief Holidays (Vodka) or Fosters Packaged Drinking Water (Beer). Not sure who is kidding who.

Women

An odd thing we've noticed as backpackers in India is that our contact with Indian females has been very limited. We mostly deal with people in the service industries and 99% of the waiters, hotel staff, cleaners, shop keepers have been men. We have rarely come across a women in any of these jobs and has a result have had very little normal interaction with Indian women to the extent that when we have seen a women in a shop we've actually gone out of our way to buy from her. When we stayed with Krishna's family in Chennai we had a great opportunity to ask his mother lots of questions and meet with his female family and friends and get a balanced view of life in India.

The definite observation on Indian women is that they are the most colourfully dressed women in the world. In the dirtiest dustiest villages worlds away from automatic washing machines the women sport bright clean saris. I think elsewhere in the world we'd definitely take the easy way out and opt for brown smocks that don't show the dirt!


Boarding Trains and Buses

Not a big observation, more one that has amused us over the months. In any village, city, town for extra thrill the preferred method of boarding a train or bus is whilst the vehicle is in motion. Men will always wait until the last moment to run alongside the bus and board in a dramatic fashion. Hanging on for dear life is not a thrill we've spend too much time tapping in to.

India is a fascinating country to have spent time in. Its diversity of people, landscape and just about everything else you could imagine, keeps you interested, challenged and feeling the life spirit of its people. Don't let anything put you off tasting India for yourself, the only way you will generate your own feelings is to give it a go yourself. See you there.

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To The Border....

:: Torch Protest in Dharamasala ::

Our little break in Australia has reset our travel stamina and tolerance. Last month a six hour bus journey would have been a piece of cake. The first five and a half hour journey we did from Delhi to Rishikesh was an agonisingly long journey. We were shocked to do a time check at what seemed like three hours only to find that we'd been only a mere 52 minutes on the road. We've definitely been underestimating how hard long journeys actually are if you're not used to them.

Rishikesh is widely known as the yoga capital of the world, it's many ashrams, schools and retreat houses are apparently the place to learn. We didn't stay long enough to bend ourselves into any shapes but it definitely comes across as a serious place rather than a backpacker hangout. We were expecting glitzy jewellery shops, leather stores, funky restaurants & cafes like Pushkar. Instead its shops are somber and run down, there are limited restaurants and overall a more serene atmosphere - which is refreshing. Hopefully the temptation to change to chase the dollar won't supersede the meditative environment that appeals to serious enlightenment seekers local and foreign alike.

Journeying on we stopped overnight in the city of Chandigarh; we'd high hopes for the place. The city boasts a high standard of living and the highest per capita income in the India. Designed in the 60's Chandigarh city is like an enormous park divided into numbered sectors - from any road all you can see are green spaces and trees. The manicured roundabouts, beautiful parks and signposted numbered sectors all point towards an orderly smart town. We eventually reached the centre, sector 17 and all expectations were dashed. The city centre was a sprawling row of alcohol shops, discount stores and a smattering of self satisfied guesthouses charging the most expensive prices in India. The city excites lots of people, we ran into a couple of travellers who were on their third night there. Then we met a couple more who were counting the hours down until they could hop on a bus out of there.

We were of the latter variety - at six am the following morning we were hopping on a local bus to the "big" bus stand. Amongst the early morning commuters were a little old man and his wife who seated themselves in the "ladies" section of the half empty bus. The bus driver promptly let a roar and kicked the old man out of his seat gesturing at free unisex ones down the back. Things didn't get any simpler down the back, the bus (doing 5 minutes journeys to and from the main bus stand all day) had designated seats for a broad section of society - ladies, handicapped, seniors, the blind and freedom fighters all had demarked seats. Seating oneself was a minefield of political correctness.

7 hrs later we arrived in Dharmasala way up in the mountains. The area is famous as the home in exile of the Dalai Lama, thousands of Tibetans and an inordinate amount of professional beggars. What made this place remarkable to us was firstly all the smiling Buddhist monks and Tibetan faces around and secondly the proud display of the Tibetan flag flying high over almost every building. On our journey through Tibet we'd never actually seen a Tibetan flag. It was touching to see it on every wall along with the picture of the Dalai Lama.



The town itself is perched in the mountains surrounded by snow peaks. Every evening there is a procession of monks and locals with candles down the street to the monastery. It was topical time to visit as the Olympic Torch makes it way around the world sparking debate on the Tibetan issue. We went along to an informative talk by an visiting academic on Tibetan history from a Chinese point of view - it was enlightening to listen to the Chinese side of the story and why Tibet is so important to them. It was interesting to then actually look at what the Tibetans are asking for. Rather than a Free Tibet it's a level of autonomy lesser to that that Hong Kong and Taiwan enjoy. So in fact a precedence has already been set is fully functioning to solve the problem.

On the day of the Torch relay in Delhi a march and rally was held in Dharamasala. It was a very emotional display; men, women and school children along with the monks and nuns paraded though the streets petitioning for human rights and the freeing of Tibet. Old men and men stood transfixed in small cafes watching world reaction to their plight following demonstrations across the world. Spending time in Dharmasala amongst this exiled community does make you feel an urgency to resolve the issue and let the people live freely and practise their religion unpersecuted.

Our final stop in India was in the city of Amritsar 30 km from the Pakistani border. The is the centre of the Sikh religion and home to their holiest site the Golden Temple. Pilgrims travel here by the thousands and are warmly received with free accommodation, free food and free transfer to the bus/train station.

The kitchens feed up to 30,000 people a day, it was fascinating to watch a team of hundreds peel onions, chop vegetables, wash dishes, throw buckets of water over the marble floors and generally volunteer their services to the upkeep of the temple.

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To The Taj....

Rajasthan really is the India of postcards, the spectacular forts and magnificent palaces have survived colonialism and demonstrate the power and wealth that once existed across this land. It was an India vastly different to today. Probably one of the most striking elements of Rajasthan is comportment of the men. Even the smallest dustiest villages are full of proud moustached gentlemen wearing vividly coloured turbans and baggy jodhpur trousers. Different chaste, status and occasions call for different coloured turbans creating a fantastic multicolour spectacle.


Our next stop was the old city of Jodhpur, surrounded by old city walls and dominated by the restored Mehrangarh Fort. It is an ancient castle of the Rajputs, the princely clans who are native to the state of Rajasthan, and claim to have descended from the sun. The fort is awesomely perched over the town looking like something straight out of a story book. Many of the buildings in the old city are blue, a holdover from the old days when residents of the Brahmin caste distinguished themselves from their lower-caste brethren by painting their buildings a distinctive color. Now it no longer denotes caste status, but it lends the city a romantic hue when you view it from the ramparts of the fort.

Merenghar Castle is set up like a living museum and a visit there is made worthwhile by the excellent audio tour, narrated in parts by the current Maharajah himself, which explains the odds and ends of the castle and relates stories behind all the important rooms and artifacts. The complete presentation allows visitors to get good insight to how life within the fort was many years ago from how it was defended during attacks to the sad little hand prints of all the widows of Maharajah Man Singh, who committed "sati" upon his death. This was common Rajput practice where the wives accompanied the funeral procession out of the castle and sat on the pyre with their dead husband and were burned alive in silence. Suffice to say we left very impressed with the castle and the tour.


After spending four hours standing waiting for the Jodphur train booking system to recover after a system crash we secured tickets onwards to Delhi. We were queuing at the "Foreigners, Senior Citizens and Ladies" window and so were entertained by a couple of elderly gentleman who happily discussed everything from soccer to President Sarkozy's new wife. As expected once the system recovered the mood of the queue rapidly deteriorated as a cut throat push to get to the front ensued. Some things never change!

Delhi became our base for about a week as we sorted out visas for the next leg of the trip. We took a side trip to Agra for a couple of day to tick the big box of the Taj Mahal. People in the past who have been to Agra warned me that the Taj Mahal is fantastic but the surrounds leave a lot to be desired. Our experience was quite the opposite, perhaps there has been some huge effort to clean up rubbish in the surrounding area. The approach to the Taj Mahal is breathtaking you don't actually see the building until you pass through an arch and it suddenly comes into view.


We returned to Delhi to get ready for our trip to Australia .... talk for the last few days was centred upon all the things we were looking forward to eating when we got there. Murphys Law worked against us and we managed to pick up a nasty bug somewhere between Delhi airport and Melbourne that knocked us out of eating action for a while. We've since recovered and made up for it!

We've spend a few weeks here in Melbourne enjoying 40 degree weather followed by a sudden drop down to 10 degrees that saw us searching through boxes for some winter layers. It's been a hectic few weeks catching up with family and friends. The Nance's threw a big homecoming/ engagement party for us. Thanks Julian & Daina.

Melburnians - good to see you all again. Thanks for all the good wishes. See you soon.

We fly back to Delhi tomorrow morning to begin our travels north, across Pakistan and on into the Middle East. Stay Tuned for more....

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Bollywood to Rajasthan....

:: Mumbai...really ::

Having read the Mumbai based novel "Shantaram" by Gregory David Roberts it's hard not to have preconceptions about Mumbai as a city. The novel portrays Mumbai as a vibrant, colourful city harbouring a huge underbelly of crime and poverty. We got there more paranoid than usual about being robbed and were super vigilant of pickpockets and scams. In reality it was no more dangerous or grim than any other stop on our travels. We peeked into Leopold's to see what was happening and were disappointed to find a modern bar, expensive menu and large groups of tourists hobnobbing - sadly the old world charm depicted in the book was jettisoned in favour of shiny surfaces and clean lines.

Outside the slums, Old Bombay resembles London, with huge imposing buildings, wide boulevard streets and huge park areas. As the home of Bollywood it has lots of high end shops and restaurants catering to the glitzy set. We took an evening walk down to Chowpatty beach passing massive wedding marquees which we peeped into.... (the rage seems to be thirty man orchestras and multicoloured water fountains). Amazingly most of the restaurants we ate in in Mumbai ended up being South Indian ones rather than the North Indian food we were craving. I guess it's a novelty there!

:: Gurgarati Thali ::

Moving north we decided to spend a couple of days in Gurgarati State; normally travellers scoot through as there's not really too many tourist attractions so the State itself receives few visitors. On a positive side, when tourists do stop they are a real novelty and warmly welcomed. Arriving before dawn off a night train we made our way to the bus station where an enthusiastic chai man (man with big kettle of tea and stash of plastic cups) dashed around waking random sleeping people up so that we would have somewhere to sit down. Within minutes everyone waiting for their respective buses knew exactly where we were going and the second the bus appeared we were practically carried onto it. After an exhausting day of travel we reached the island of Diu, a tiny ex-Portuguese port town that enjoys special tax exemptions on alcohol. In other words, in this strict vegetarian and alcohol free state this is the place where people come to let their hair down. Our big effort to get to Diu was rewarded by an amazing couple of days exploring the imposing fort, tootling around the island on a beat up motorbike, sitting on a deserted beach and tucking into some of the best thali meals that we've had in India.

:: Udaipur ::

After a few days off the beaten track we found ourselves on a bus destined for Rajasthan State and the city of Udaipur which is most definitely on the tourists must-do list. Udaipur is a spectacularly romantic city built on around a picturesque lake. It has a remarkable resemblance to Varanasi, as the sun sets, a warm glow bounces off the ghats around the late but obviously Udaipur it is far more palatable due to the lack of burning bodies at the waterside and cow shit on the streets. Udaipur was probably the first place we've been in India where we've seen lots of luxurious accommodation - the India in the travel magazines where you stay in a Maharaja's palace in the lap of luxury. As it happens we didn't have such bad view from our budget quarters.

:: Bundi ::

Out next stop was Bundi, a beautiful blue city nestled on the foothold of a huge palace. The palace itself is currently under restoration but completion is a long way off so visiting it evokes the feeling that you are one of the few people lucky enough to stumble upon it and admire its turquoise murals and awesome views out over the blue city and on through the surrounding valleys. It's also home to some scary looking monkeys who demand to be fed before they allow passage through their domain - they didn't look like the type that would be willing to negotiate so we had to curtail trek up behind the palace to the top of the fort.

:: Pushkar Lake ::

Pushing northwards we stopped in the holy town of Pushkar on the shore of Lake Pushkar. Originally a holy city with five principle temples and 52 ghats it's now a little tourist oasis and the guesthouses and restaurants far outnumber the holy sites. It's the ideal place to kick back for a day or two and enjoy some home comforts. On the narrow main street tourists flock to pig out on cheap stuffed nans washed down with fresh fruit juices. We spent a couple of days sampling the street food and people watching before we got bored and decided it was time to head west out into the Thar desert to Jaisalmer city, 100 miles from the Pakistani border.

:: Serenity ::

Rajasthan State in India is home to some big ticket places such as Udapur, Pushkar, Jaisalmer and it's neighbours Delhi and Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. In short it's on most people's itinerary. Sadly more so than elsewhere in India, there is a pool of sharks lying in wait ready to turn a buck and relieve you of the contents of your wallet. We've run into some backpackers and tourists who arrive and are completely intimated by the all the touts, beggars and scam artists, so much so that they end up opting to spend more time in their hotel than bother to put up with all the hassle. After this long on the road we've developed an ability to ignore people and move through crowds quickly so that level of hassle is easily dismissed. What is harder to wear are blatant lies, extortion and unreasonable opportunism. Such examples have been when we've paid big money into a fort or museum only to find someone has stationed themselves as a welcoming committee on the grim toilets asking that you "pay as you like" ... when in fact it should be free. We've checked out of a hotel and a random member of staff we've never seen before has demanded a tip. And the most irritatingly has been when we've gone to a street seller to buy sweets, we get in the long queue but by the time we get to the top the seller suddenly forgets the unit price of the sweet he's been selling all day and needs to "double check" with someone else and naturally comes back with a greed inflated orice.



Our month in Rajasthan was peppered by a few such run ins. After a long night bus to Jaisalmer a opportunist got on the bus and went around all the tourists conveniently selling them a "tourist tax ticket - valid for one day". No such thing exists but I'm sure tired tourists fork out for it everyday. Marcus refused to pay on the basis that the word "municipal" was incorrectly spelt therefore it had to be a fraud - it's a good point though, when it comes to using proper English the Indian's are sticklers for the small things. When we did reach Jaisalmer the bus pulled into a parking lot and we stepped out to a vociferous swarm of touts frantically waving massive placards and pushing on mass towards the bus, I've never seen so many touts before. We actually felt famous, I know why the stars hate the paparazzi now. Local police acted like bodyguards pushing the mob away from the bus and providing a channel through which we could pass. It was a great camera moment that we missed. I remember looking back over a policeman's shoulder to see Marcus on the steps of the bus grinning and waving to the crowd ... enjoying every second of the spectacle. A few lies later and Jaisalmer fort had gone from being "too far to walk" to being "10 minutes walk up that road". By taxi you'll always be taken the scenic route which is the more profitable full lap round the forted city dropping you off a few hundred metres from you jumped in.

:: Desert Fort in Jaialmer ::

All that being said Jaisalmer is incredibly beautiful, the yellow fort sits restored on the top of a hill majestically looking out over the desert. We stayed in a cute little guesthouse within the walls which was a real novelty. In the evenings we sat on the rooftop looking out over the setting sun. Due to a tight schedule we decided to leave Jaisalmer just before the desert festival started. It probably would have been amusing as there were best moustache competitions, polo on camels and all those other weird events that'd you'd expect on the bill of a desert festival.

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Getting to Goa...

Returning to Chennai we stayed once again with Krishna and his family enjoying his mum's excellent South Indian cooking. We were lucky enough to be there for the Pongal festival, a three day Hindu farmers festival celebrating the harvest. As it's the most important festival in South India pretty much everything closes down, rituals such as eating the Pongal (sweet rice) take place and the women all get brand new saris. We celebrated Pongal by having a "pot luck" lunch followed by a few competitive rounds of bingo with Krishnas family, neighbours and friends. Thanks again Krishna, and thanks for answering our endless list of questions!


Before we got too comfortable we decided to keep moving and make tracks back through Bangalore and north on to Hampi. Once the capital of the Hindu empire,Vijayanagara, who ruled the south India during 14th to 16th century AD. The ruins of Hampi, as it is known today, is a vast open museum of history, architecture and religion set in the middle of a boulder strewn landscape. We didn't know too much about Hampi before getting there, only that it was a big stop on the backpacking circuit, this was very obvious by the number the guesthouses and roof top restaurants crammed into the back streets of Hampi bizarre. A stroll outside the commercialism quickly brings you out into 25 square kilometers of ancient temples, palaces, market streets and other monuments. What's endearing about Hampi is that the ruins are impressive and spread out over a large area making the area surreal. It's hard to imagine just how impressive all the structures were in their heyday. Vittala Temple was the most impressive, its halls are noted for their extraordinary carved pillars and huge stone chariot complete with wheels. A set of pillars, known as 'musical pillars,' resonates when tapped. The temple supposedly had 56 pillars, each with 16 smaller pillars which produced different notes and sounds. During performances all 56 musical pillars were played together, accompanied by dancers. If you dare touch the pillars today you can expect a customary slap on the wrist whistle from the security guards.



Catching a bus West we travelled back to the coast to the temple town of Gokarna. Lying just below Goa this town gets the lots of visitors spilling down for the attraction of it's undeveloped beach tucked away around a headland - far away from touts and hawkers. The town itself is a pleasant little place lined with wooden shops and bustling with backpackers - it's been a while since we've seen so many fisherman pants. Although attracted by the beach we decided to push on up into Goa and relax there for a couple of days.

Every one has heard of Goa - which is surprising, given just how small this state is. Hundreds of thousands of tourists come here each year to soak up the sun, roam around the old colonial buildings and Churches and sample the fiery Goan cuisine. As a former Portuguese colony the interior of Goa has many charming old towns with ornate mansions. Along the coast are the long sandy beaches, made famous first by the overland hippies of the 70s - the busiest now frequented by package tourists from Europe. Thankfully there still are some quiet spots left - although for how much longer that remains to be seen.



Our first beach stop was Palolem Beach where we hopped off a bus in the middle of a busy street lined with stalls selling sarongs, jewellery, cushion covers etc. We were immediately faced with two options - either to go straight to the beach to procure a romantic beach side hut amidst the palm trees or take a look around town and find a room in a guesthouse. Experience has put us in category number two - the "romantic" novelty of wicker walls, no electricity, sand in everything, rickety steps and an agonising trek across a muddy yard and across a yucky drain to the communal tin bathroom in the middle of the night just isn't pleasant and never was. Well... not when you can be 2 minutes away tucked up within in a proper guesthouse with solid walls with your en suite bathroom and balcony. Some places in this world may have fantastic beach huts but most we've seen are more like shanty towns that have been knocked together at the start of the season. There's no shortage of people clamoring to secure a hut for the week. Palolem Beach's small scale, lack of big high rise hotel developments, idyllic palm fringed beach and laid back atmosphere made it a lovely place to stop for a few days to read a book and enjoy beach life. After a couple of days of "western food" we were ready to sample some spicy Goan cuisine - so it was time to hit the towns where the real Goan's live far away from the toned down menus.

Panjim is the capital of Goa, a beautiful old city with the most overpriced, repulsive accommodation we've seen so far. Arriving mid afternoon we began our usual search seeing absolute dives at mega buck prices. Just when we thought we'd have to hit an all time high on the sleeping expenditure we found something that "sufficed". Marcus came back to me with a grim look asking "Do you remember the movie Seven ..... well some of the scenes we filmed in this guesthouse." Grim is an understatement, for the remainder of the visit the object of the exercise was to spend the least amount of time in the room - the story has a silver lining though as we found fantastic restaurant cooking up proper Goan food. If we could go back there for food tonight we would in a heartbeat.



Heading north we stopped in Anjuna for a couple of days. A chilling beach wind that whipped up the sand wasn't exactly conducive to sunbathing. Those that did brave the beach shared it with the local bovine population. You never do get used to cows weaving their way through the sunbeds feasting on banana skins and pineapple shells. Sadly Anjuna beach didn't host a fantastic array of seafood, and most of the menus were of the "chips and egg" variety so we decided to push on to Mumbai. We did hang around long enough to take in the colourful weekly market which draws huge crowds of tourists each week. It's an amusing spectacle where you can carefully pick out a couple of tasteful goods and leave satisfied or get completely carried away and buy heaps of junk that you'll unpack at home and wonder what the hell you were thinking. If you've even the slightest urge to chill a little, let go of inhibitions and buy a hippy teeshirt then there's a very good chance you'll come away with an entire tie dye wardrobe including a suede gun belt. Fortunately our small bags limit any good or bad decision making when it comes to markets so we left as light as we arrived.

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Beaches, Trains & Palaces

:: Colours in Mysore ::

Our first stop in Kerala was the city of Trivandrum most memorable for it's grand buildings and it's crowd pleasing zoo. We toured the big zoo enclosures along with a couple of hundred schoolkids desperately trying to spot whatever was housed inside it. When we finally reached the back houses where big tigers lounged in tiny cages the excitement of the children boiled over in the form of extremely ferocious growling and clawing actions at the tigers - who were literally feet away. Potential interaction with the specimens rose above comfort level at the caiman alligator enclosure where you could look over a four foot fall and easily reach down to touch one of the 20 caimans basking in the sun. Picture twenty alligators with unblinking eyes fixed on you and blood dripping out of the corners of their mouths, add excited growling kids all up on top of the wall offering any protection to you .... and believe me you get yourself out of there quick smart.

After a quick day trip to package holiday destination Kovalam, we headed north to the laid back version, Varkala. We were very pleasantly surprised by Varkala Beach so much so that it is now a contender for top beach destination of the trip. Varkala is two small beaches with a cliff in between - all the guesthouses and restaurants are perched amongst coconut trees at the edge of the cliff with magnificent views out over the Indian ocean. Add blue skies, a lovely beach with waves, no hawkers, balmy weather and kilos of cheap blue marlin, barracuda, snapper, tuna and giant prawns and you've got the idyllic beach destination (for us). We lost a few laid back days bobbing in the waves; and evenings inspecting and consuming the fantastic array of seafood. At the time we sensibly moved on to keep to our schedule but have since regretted it, as nothing further north compared beach and fresh seafood wise . Fingers crossed we'll go back there in the future and not find high rises, hawkers and a KFC.

:: Dinner - Marlin ... again::

After tearing ourselves away from our paradise, we ventured on to Kollam, a gateway to the infamous Kerala backwaters. Taking a village tour in a little canoe boat we slowly moved through the tiny palm fringed village canals. The pace of the whole excursion was so slow and the surrounds so relaxing that we both almost fell asleep in the boat. Moving into the larger waterways we could see kingfisher and kite birds flying high in the skies. We stopped on a small island where we were almost force fed coconut. I can safely say I have never consumed as much in my life, and even at that half of it went to the family's dog. Many people take a two day houseboat trip through the waterways to fully relax and get some sleep along the way. We curtailed ourselves to a day, after visiting a fish farm, boat making area and seeing a lazy sunset it was time to disembark and be rudely jolted back to reality on the bumpy road on to Alleppey. Alleppey unremarkable save the disproportionate number of umbrella stores it has. It didn't rain while we were there but when it does it most be pretty full on.

:: Backwater Boats ::

Pushing on through Cochin we stopped for a night in the transit hub of Coimbatore where we experienced our tightest accommodation squeeze yet and spent a couple of hours approaching midnight desperately searching out guesthouses down every alley. From there is was on to Mettupalayam where we caught a the "toy train", running since 1889, up to Ooty. The little blue wooden steam engine pushes the carriages up 46km in 5 hours. Seated in the very last carriage, right in front of the steam engine, every time we went through a tunnel we had to close the window or get smoked and embered out of it. Chugging slowly along we stopped every few kilometers to cool the engine and fill up on water. Five hours later the novelty of counting down the kilometers as we slowly gained elevation had long since worn off. An hour from Ooty a diesel engine was put up front and we steamed (well dieseled) on into Ooty.

Ooty is the backdrop to many a romantic scene in Tamil Nadu movies, lying at 2600m it's a hill station that offers a cool respite from the hot Indian summer. Not the place to be heading to in an Indian winter with a limited summer wardrobe! After we'd scooted out some fantastic tandoori chicken and tasty banana shakes the sun dropped and the temperatures plummeted forcing us to take refuge in the hotel room and hide under the blankets - not even daring to venture out for dinner. Wardrobe limitations forced us to reconsider our travel plans and get back down to sea level temperatures fast. The next obvious stop was Mysore in Karnataca state.

:: Prepping for the Next Hill ::

A dusty bus wound it's way down to Mysore and back to warmth. We were lucky enough to be in town for the Sunday night light up of the spectacular Mysore Palace. Other highlights included the colourful market with it's multitude of flower sellers. Extra colour was injected by the market stalls selling powdered face paints heaped in a vast array of coloured pyramids.

:: Mysore Palace ::

Hopping on a 12 hour bus (one of which leaves Mysore bus station every 2 minutes) we headed north for the big city lights of Bangalore. We were in town for the highly competitive India V's Pakistan cricket test match and in one gloriously sunny afternoon, lucky enough to catch a lot of wicket action spectating from the rowdy cheap seats. One thing that became evident en route to the cricket was how crooked the autorickshaw drivers are in this town. Every one we approached without exception suddenly developed a meter malfunction - in desperation we enlisted the help of a traffic cop who stepped into the middle of the road and brought the first rickshaw to a screeching halt. Surprise, surprise.... no problem with his meter.



Unable to resist the lure of the golden arches we ventured in to McDonalds but were bitterly disappointed, without the flagship Big Mac (with it's questionable beef quality) to savour it's not a real McDonalds at all. Not all was bad on the food front though, we found the Majestic Hotel restaurant beside the bus station and managed to squeeze in some spectacular meals. Just around the corner we found a "fresh beer" man something we haven't seen since Vietnam. When we came back after Christmas three weeks later he'd upped his prices by 50% so the idea must have taken off in Bangalore.

:: Gateway to Mysore Palace at Night ::

After a quick hop back to Chennai, (to see KK and indulge in his Mum's cooking ) we took a break from India and her curries and spent Christmas in Ireland with Dee's family. After being so long on the road it was bizarre to back to a life where you could help yourself to the contents of the fridge. Not having to check out , travel all day and find accommodation was also a novelty; not to be underestimated. We had a fantastic Christmas in Dublin with family, catching up with friends and eating all the food we'd been craving for for months. Our three weeks break from the road absolutely flew -thanks for having us, we'll be back soon!

Click Here to see our '2007 - Year in pictures' video if you haven't' seen it already.

To round off the 2007 celebrations off we also got engaged...... see we do intend to stop travelling and settle down at some stage ;-) The challenge now is to organise a wedding from dingy internet cafes along the way.

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Tamil Nadu Roundup

Heading south from Chennai we stopped off in Mamallapuram, a beach side town that gets good kudos in the Lonely Planet and thus has become a popular travellers hangout. There's nothing out of the ordinary about this dusty Indian town save a little hub of streets that look as if they've been transplanted out of a Thai beach resort. Lined with shops selling souvenirs, oversized fisherman pants and restaurants with "backpacker" menus i.e. banana pancakes and pizza this little place is certainly different but also disappointing. Opportunity has knocked loud and clear so everything is overpriced, gearing everything towards the tourist has meant it's almost impossible to get a proper Indian thali meal anywhere inside the little tourist enclave. After a little spell of tinkering around the touristy shops and being hassled to buy at every turn the "backpacker hangout" appeal of Mamallapuram had lost it's luster. Getting away from the wannabe Thailand element however Mamallapuram has a lot to offer on it's own merit, Indians visit the town to see the impressive carvings that have been etched into massive boulders throughout the town and the Shore temple by the beach. The highlight of this stop for us was a day out to the local park to see the carvings with the added entertainment of seeing cheeky monkeys steal peoples drinks, unscrew the bottle caps and polish off the contents. Certainly a lesson to hang on tight you your belongings.


The park also houses Krishna's Butterball, a huge granite round shaped boulder perched precariously on a granite hill. Tacky I know, but posing underneath the boulder or pretending to push it down the hill is a given. Marcus walked past it giving it a quick shoulder and was met with a reprimanding whistle from the park warden, after that the fun and games were over - it makes you wonder how confident they are that the boulder is not going to roll away.



Feeling the freedom of having ditched kilos of baggage we hopped on a packed bus to Pondicherry and jostled with the best of them to gain some territory. Pondy, as it's known for short, turned out to be a very strange place. It was a French colony until 1954 and a remarkable degree of French influence exists to this date, the town is divided into the French Quarter (Ville Blanche or 'White town') and the Indian quarter (Ville Noire or 'Black Town'). Many streets still retain their French names and French style colonial villas are a common sight. With the magnificent backdrop of buildings, the police force dressed in tight uniforms with funny red hats and streets named Rues the French quarter is quite simply very French.

Pondy is famous on two more counts however, ashrams and low taxes. Pondy was the residence of one of India's most renowned Freedom Fighter and Spiritualist Sri Aurobindo. Her teachings continue to reach the people through the many retreat centres attracting Indian and foreign tourists alike . A few kilometers out of Pondy is Auroville, an entire city dedicated to human unity based on Sri Aurobindo's vision. As part of the French colonial handover Pondy enjoys special administration status, meaning it has it's own elected legislative assembly and one of it's implemented policies is lower taxes on goods in Pondy than in neighbouring states. The effect of this tax is most evident in the sale of alcohol, it's almost 50% cheaper here than elsewhere in India and boy does it show. Outside of the French quarter every third shop is an liquor store or a bar, the area around the bus station is literally one big binge drinking area. People bus in and drink all day and catch the evening bus home - usually that's a six hour return journey!



If you're ever in Pondicherry do not trust the information given in the bus station. After waiting for hours due to innacurrate information we found ourselves on a less than desirable evening drinkers commute bus to Tanjore - half the occupants were unconscious. To add to our woes we arrived late at night and the driver decided that it would be better to not let us off with everyone else in the centre of town but to drop us at the new isolated bus station miles our of town in a field. Adding an hour to our day we finally battled our way back to the centre of town and found a room for the night. The next morning we gave Tanjore a fresh start and immediately liked it, all the main sights were within walking distance - which is always appealing. We climbed the watch tower of the Royal palace for fantastic views over the city and over a large school yard where at least twelve games of cricket were in full swing. It's a testiment to how fanatical the country is about the game. As dusk fell we spend the evening inside the walls of Bhihadishwara Temple watching the pilgrims come and go, stopping to be blessed by a "swami elephant" who after receiving a one rupee coin in his trunk, touched people's heads. Unfortunately we don't have any pictures of been blessed by the elephant, we had an altercation with the elephant owner over how much a picture was worth and it all seemed very unholy after that.

A short journey down the road took us to Trichy, where we visited the colourful temples and climbed barefoot to the top of the rock fort temple. The food in Trichy was excellent so large portions of the day were dedicated to eating. Throughout Tamil Nadu State we've found some of the best food around the bus stations where fresh parathas, idlis and "bull's eye" fried eggs are churned out day and night.

:: Badam Milk being cooled & frothed ::

Our next stop was Madurai where the food got even better and coffee addiction was an understandable weakness to develop. To work up an appetite we visited the colourful Sree Meenakshi temple complex, infamous in the region. The temple is huge, the decoration is awesome, particularly the big towers at the gates, called gopurams which are 45m high and filled with hundreds of statues of Hindu gods painted in bright colors. Before leaving we also took a trip to the Ghandi museum detailing the life and times of the revered man. We'll always remember Madurai for it's numerous "Chicken 65" stalls and for it's spectacular badam milk. Each night we walked home past a little shop with a massive vat of badam milk on the boil. Part of the service of the beverage is a ritual where the milk is poured from one jug at a height to the another repeatedly in order to add air and froth. This is a performance in itself where the vendor pours the drink from seemingly impossible positions and manages to catch it all in other jug without it spilling all over himself.



Our final stop in Tamil Nadu state was Kanyakumuri, the very geographical tip of India where the Arabian Ocean, Indian Ocean and the Bay of Bengal all meet. It's also a very popular tourist destination, pilgrims come to see the temple of Goddess Kanya who once upon a time defeated demons and secured freedom of the world. Off the very tip of the land is a small island with a huge statue of the wandering monk Swami Vivekananda, one of the most famous and influential spiritual leaders of the philosophies of Vedanta and Yoga. After seeing the sun rise and set over the three oceans it was time to turn the corner, quite literally, and make our way up into Kerala.

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Exploding Chennai...

:: Thali Lunch ::

We stopped overnight in the town of Bhubaneshwar before catching a 20 hour train all the way to Chennai (formerly Madras) in time for the build up to Diwali - the biggest of Hindu festivals.

Chennai, the capital of Tamil Nadu state is the fourth biggest city in India and is the second largest exporter of IT enabled services behind it's neighbour Bangalore. This combined with a strong manufacturing industries means Chennai is an economy on the up and up. The city also is home to a Tamil movie industry called Kollywood very different in language, content and music to the movies to those produced in Bollywood (Mumbai).

Our stay in Chennai was made all the more enjoyable by actually knowing someone living here. Krishna, who worked with Marcus in San Francisco, took us out for a fantastic meal, gave us pointers on what to see around town and left us with a huge box of Diwali sweets. He also generously agreed to mind our big bags for a few weeks so that we can venture down to the south unencumbered. Thanks for everything Krishna - see you again soon!

Diwali Festival for Hindus is the equivalent to Christmas. It's a crazy time of year with everyone running around the shops doing last minute buying followed by two days of parties, firecrackers, fireworks and the consumption of enormous amounts of sweets. For two days solid everyone set off fireworks and bangers in the street - in a very haphazard and dangerous manner may I add. (Heh..Dee has sensitive hearing :-) ) We spent two days walking around with our hands over our ears peering around corners to make sure there weren't any fireworks aimed in our direction. Now when we say everyone, we mean everyone. It was an incredible experience to walk down narrow streets just after dark and every household was out in the street letting off bangers, poppers, rockets, whirlythingys, sparklers and roman candles - kids parents and pets all in on the act.

As we'll be back in Chennai before Christmas we put off some sightseeing until then and concentrated on trying to clear down our memory cards and get the blog up to date.

25kg of luggage lighter, we set off for the seaside town of Mamallapuram a couple of hours south of Chennai.

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Here is a little video I just uploaded of my rooftop ride on a Nepali Bus ...its the only way to travel !

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Puri and the Ocean

Hopping on yet another night train we got to the beach town of Puri in the State of Orissa and encountered our worst tout to date. Every tourist stop in India comes with it's own set of touts and rickshaw drivers trying to get you into their hotel, visit a silk shop etc. If you arrive late at night into a busy place their assistance can be invaluable in finding accommodation, however at 7am in the morning after a near sleepless night on the train they are the very last people you want to deal with.
If a tout accompanies you into a hotel the price immediately goes up as he gets a commission for the deal and generally the hotel owner will ignore us and deal with the tout. Therefore it's preferable to be doing the wheeling and dealing by oneself. In Kolkata Marcus waited with the bags while I set off to look for a hotel. Within minutes I had a tout on my tail and had to run down a few alleyways to give him the slip. Anyhow at this stop we were unlucky enough to attract a completely crazy rickshaw driver who just did not understand the meaning of the words "go away" .. and followed us for what seemed like forever; after a highly frustrating encounter we have since changed our approach tactics. We now arrive into places with our earplugs on the ready and use them at the first opportunity :-)

Puri is a popular Indian tourist resort, although it has two distinct ends, the Hindu end where all the local tourists go and then the other end where everyone else winds up. It was great to be back to seaside fare again .. mackerel, prawns, tuna on every little cafe's menu. It is not the sort of place where you strip off and go for a dip, more the kind of place where you savour the food and breathe in some fresh seaside air. Aside from the beach up our end literally being a toilet and cricket ground for the fishing community there are big rip currents which drown people each year. Around us were lots of hotels and lovely little garden cafes when we ventured down to the Hindu end we were surprised to see hotel upon hotel, camel rides, snacks on the beach and a promenade. We thought we were staying at the busy end of things!

:: The Sun Temple ::

In a side trip from Puri we went to see the Sun Temple in nearby Konark. Built in 1278 the entire temple has been conceived as a chariot of the sun god with 24 wheels, each about 10 feet in diameter, with a set of spokes and elaborate erotic carvings. Seven horses drag the temple. Two lions crushing elephants guard the entrance. The temple is well restored and its carvings certainly made it a little different from all the other temples we've seen on this trip.



As always there's a ridiculous transport story, this entry's installment happened on the way out to the Sun Temple. Boarding a local bus we both managed to get a seat and waited for the bus to fill up. As more people piled in the ticket collector greeted each person individually asking where they were going and made a point of personally squeezing each new comer in one by one thus ensuring that there wasn't an inch of space wasted down the very back of the bus. The moment the bus was in motion he started trying to move down the aisle to collect the fares causing mayhem as people were packed in so tight they couldn't even get their money out let alone let him pass. Obviously there's a system ......

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Kolkata

Everyone has heard of the city of Calcutta, although mostly in a negative light. Poverty, pollution, smell and dirt seem to be predominant stereotype people have. In short not the sort of city that you'd go out of your way to visit. We weren't really sure what to expect but were very pleasantly surprised. Arriving into the magnificent Howrah station we stepped out to be met by hundreds of Ambassador cabs - these yellow cabs, running for 100 years are a famous nostalgic icon of Calcutta. Beyond them were palm trees all around and big old colonial buildings in the distance. It was almost like stepping on to a movie set of India in British Raj times.

:: Calcutta Cabs ::

Calcutta changed it's name to Kolkata in 2001- some say to erase the legacy of British Rule. Kolkata served as the capital of India during the British Raj until 1911 when the capital was moved to New Delhi. A change of name maybe but what still exists is an impressive legacy of remarkably beautiful colonial mansions, wide streets of red bricked buildings and huge green parks.

:: Cricket in the Park ::

Poverty always been a part of Kolkata's history, under British Rule in the 19th century the city was divided into the rich "White Town" British area and impoverished "Black Town" the Indian part. In modern times the British are gone but there are the new wealthy and plenty of signs of affluence around unfortunately there are still the have nots.

::Victoria Mermorial::

After Varanasi Kolkata was like a breath of fresh air to us and offered us a completely different picture of Indian life. The busy streets, affluent shops and restaurants, leafy streets and big parks ooze with old charm. We took a walk through multiple cricket game and polo games in Maidan Park.

::BBD Central Business District::

One unusual thing we noticed about Kolkata was that there were no cheap and cheerful local restaurants. The choice was upmarket air conditioned restaurants or street food outside the really touristy areas. On saying that there was street food on every corner and most of the times the stalls were thronged with people having a snacks at all hours of the day. Surprising favourites were banana toast and panini style toasted cheese sandwiches along with the local dishes. With juice bars and chai stands on every street corner we were never far away from refreshments.

:: Government Cars (&Drivers) ::

We had some great food in Kolkata and enjoyed wandering around the leafy street and experiencing life in a big Indian city. Yes Kolkata is dirty, polluted and poor but it's also manages to be affluent, charming and endearing place to spend a few days soaking up the atmosphere.

Next stop and the Indian beach town of Puri.

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Varanasi

Our first stop in India was the holy city of Varanasi, a 3,000 year old city on the banks of the River Ganges and one of the most important places of pilgrimage for Hindus. According to Hindu mythology, Varanasi liberates soul from the human body to the ultimate.It is the goal of every Hindu to die there, because they believe that doing so will release them from the cycle of birth and death.
The river Ganges is also believed to have the power of washing away all of one's sins. Sacrifices, prayers and any charity donated here reaps a thousand times more rewards than the same act done elsewhere such is the power of the city.
For ages Varanasi has been a centre of learning of Indian philosophy, spiritualism, mysticism - with it's rich cultural heritage and tradition it is essentially the cultural capital of India.

:: Sacred Cow ::

The spiritual hub of Varanasi is along one side of the Ganges riverbank where over a hundred Ganga Ghats and temples, owned mostly by rich Maharajahs, are located. The ghats are broad flights of steps down to the bank of the river; pilgrims flock to these spots to take a dip in the sacred waters and to offer morning prayers to the rising sun. It is believed that people are cleansed physically, mentally and spiritually in these ghats. Near these ghats are hospices where terminally ill people from all over India spend their last days. We took an early morning boat trip at dawn up river, it was an excellent way to experience the pilgrims activities, admire the beautiful old temples and absorb and appreciate what is Varanasi.

There are few places where death is so public. Amongst the bathing ghats there are two burning ghats where cremations are carried out continuously day and night - this can mean up to 200 cremations per day. The burning ghats are open to all, and tourists get right up next to the funeral pyres. The lower the caste the closer to the river the cremations takes place. White shrouded corpses are men, coloured are female, gold coloured shrouds are old men and orange coloured shrouds old women. The family purchases wood to burn the corpse on, typically it takes 200 kgs to cremate a body and wood can cost 150 rupees a kilo (2.6 Euros/ 4 AUD) making it costly to the average Indian family.

:: The Burning Ghat ::

It is the male members of the family that carry out the cremation. Women usually do not attend as it is believed their open grief may compel the soul of the departed to stay behind. Untouchables prepare the body and wrap it in a shroud, the corpse is then run on a stretcher through the small alley ways down to the ghats where it is submerged in the water, it is then laid out to dry. Meanwhile a pyre is constructed from wood and the corpse is placed on the top. The eldest son lights the fire and acts as primary attendant for the entire procedure which can take up to three hours.

The Ganges may be the religious lifeblood of India but it is also alarmingly polluted; raw sewage, rotting carcasses, industrial effluent, fertilisers and pesticides infect the river from the Himalayan foothills to the Bay of Bengal. The river that gives life also takes it away through disease and sickness - it's purity deteriorated as the Indian booming population places an ever growing burden on her. For the moment this doesn't stop pilgrims bathing and drinking the water. Efforts to clean the river are underway but it's an uphill battle given the millions of people that depend on the river.



Not only is the city a sprawling congested hive of activity but the old part near the river is a rabbit warren of small little lanes challenging to even the best navigator. We stayed in a small family run guesthouse right on the banks of the Ganges and never really ever felt 100% confident on finding our way back through the maze of street. Cows, goats, dogs etc wander through the tiny lanes and down around the ghats in an owner less fashion - and they're not always docile we've had a few experiences where they can charge. Whilst we were there the Durga Puja festival was in full swing. Makeshift temples were impressively constructed from corrugated steel and elaborate paper mache idols were paraded through the streets then immersed in the river. We could still hear the party going and music thumping at 4am in the morning.

As an introduction to India, Varanasi was as full on as they get.You don't really get used to the smokey ash filled air or walking past the burning corpses each day. Tourists are free to watch the cremations up close, however it seems almost disrespectful as there is not much left up to the imagination. There is real life in the city as well, cremations and pilgrims don't get in the way of the local boys who have regular cricket games in amongst the ghats .... cricket is a religion here .. but that's for another blog.

Due to a bout of very violent illness I'm going to put off writing about the Indian culinary scene until a later date.

:: Spritual Ganga ::

Varanasi truly is a place where life and death come together. You cannot help being absorbed into the abundant spirituality and tradition that embrace the area around the Ganga giving it a strong feeling of purpose, history and longevity.

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