This morning's sad goodbye is to Laura (Michael is in the shower). I am super sad to say goodbye to these guys as they've been awesome company the entire trip (despite being hit hard with sickness). I am hoping they will come over to London for a weekend otherwise I will head over to Frankfurt - in the meantime there's always good old Facebook!
Keen to move onwards and southwards, Erin and I commandeer a dedicated driver for the day for the princely sum of £28. Our plan is to get an overnight bus or train down to Kerala later this evening / tomorrow via Palolem, a recommended Southern beach in Goa.
Driving out of North Goa we go past a number of schools where the names make me chuckle. My favourites include Little Flower High School & Chubby Cheeks High School. Clearly I would have done my studies at the latter and be very proud to have that on my CV. No doubt it is a fine academic institution.
Having realised it's a Sunday and the central ticket office in Panjim is closed we head to Madgaon to enquire and book tickets for our journey south skipping the state of Karnataka and heading straight to Kerala.
Now I don't know if any of you have ever tried to a) find the correct train in India or b) successfully bought a ticket? If you have - I bow to your greatness!
We queue for 30 minutes in the foreigners queue which is also for military and senior citizens. It doesn't move and neither do any of the other long lines in the crowded ticket hall. We eventually work out (with the help of some Ukranian tourists) that a form needs to be completed in order to buy a ticket detailing names, addresses, ages, journey details, train numbers, class required and inside leg measurements (OK not the latter I'm exaggerating). After the queue proves to not be moving Erin tries a number of strategies to get the info and tickets faster. I keep our spot in the queue in the hope that the issuing ticket officer decides to light a fire up his bottom whilst Erin scouts another solution. Eventually the station supervisor tells Erin to head straight to the front of the queue. We both feel a touch guilty about this however the young soldiers at the front are very kind and let us make our enquiries. We are told which train we need, it's number and fill in the form. Submitting the piece of paper we are told by the rather unhelpful and unfriendly man at the counter (his bottom still perfectly comfortable) that we have filled the form in incorrectly with no further advice. A local man (who appears to be with the soldiers) helps us to complete the form correctly and we resubmit. We have chosen 2AC (second class with Air Con) but are informed there are no seats left so we must please change our forms to read 3AC. The form is handed back to us through the grates and past the official's pen (which sits next to him on the desk) where we are asked to change the number 2 to 3 which we do and resubmit to him again. He reinspects the form, asks for our passports and eventually issues us with a ticket. We begin to appreciate just how much Ricky (and the back office) has done for us and how seamless things have been to date!! We are super happy we've managed to do it ourselves, high fiving each other in the knowledge we will be leaving from Madgaon at 21:30 on the 18hr sleeper train to Ernakulam and are now free to enjoy a day on the beach.
Sunny, our driver, takes us on the 1hr drive to Palolem beach and we are led down a narrow track road with market stalls, shops and restaurants. Despite some concerning similarities the vibe here is a lot more relaxed than the North and there is no honking! We head onto the beach and it's a beautiful sweeping crescent shape. Palm trees drunkenly lean over the miles of sand and there is a bond style island in the distance. It's LOVELY and I finally understand what the fuss is about. I'm gutted that the others only got to experience North Goa and am really surprised that our tour didn't bring us here instead. (A big thanks to Angela W for the recommendation!).
We settle ourselves in a pristine bar/restaurant/beach hut village called Ciaran's and enjoy some masala chai and a mouth watering fresh hummus and salad wrap. I leave Erin with Shantaram and head to catch some rays. It's an afternoon of reading, snoozing and relaxing with minimal distractions (there are still some local happy snappers but luckily Erin picks up most of the slack for both of us). The water is like a bath and we share the beach with a few cows - seems like these creatures have a good old life in India (albeit steak is starting to appear on menus the more south we travel).
We find a shower where we rinse off our day and grab dinner at another lovely beachside place called Cuba Goa. We sit on soft style seating at a candlelit table on the floor looking out onto the Arabian Sea. Chill out music plays, clandestine groups gather on the beach and beach bbqs, cooked on half cut oil drums, sizzle fresh seafood.
South Goa has redeemed the rest of her state admirably.
Before long it's the one hour journey back to the station and, with the help of another kind local (who gives us his number in case we need anything) we're safely on the train with our backpacks. Conditions are pretty much the same as our previous sleeper train - this time I take the top bunk and Erin takes the middle bed. The beds are tight for space, with a modest amount of head room but it's cosy. We are sat stationary on the platform for an hour and just as I start to get comfy in my little den, I notice a cockroach climbing out of a crack in the carriage ceiling 30cms above my face. I chase it back into the crack with a pen. A few seconds later it reappears so I chase it back in again. This game continues for a while until the train starts moving, AC starts and it disappears. My eye is trained on the crack for a good 10 minutes. I'm not sure I blinked.
Blocking the thought of the cockroach crawling over me in the night, or worse still, me eating it, I am rocked to sleep by the gentle lullaby motion of the train ready to enjoy my final week in India.
Wednesday, 7 November 2012
Saturday, 3 November 2012
In need of a Burkini...
We have a hungover goodbye breakfast with Geoff & Ricky at the hotel this morning. Ricky, our guide, has been a huge part of making my India experience utterly incredible. I've felt totally safe in his care and I'm very sad, plus a tad nervous, to say goodbye to him and fly solo. That being said he's prepared us well in terms of how to gets things done in India. Geoff is continuing his travels to China today so it's just Michael, Laura, Erin and I left. We are slowly but surely becoming disbanded brothers.
I head to Baga beach solo and set myself down on the sand. The beach is an eclectic mix of nationalities, cows, bathing costumes, string bikinis and touts selling their various wares. I am approached by a few men asking where I am from and if I am enjoying India. Some ask for photos with them (to which I quickly say no!) - some blatantly snap away from a safe distance on their mobile phones performing the infamous Indian head wobble as they do so (apparently this means something is agreeable). I've never felt so appreciated but at the same time I am feeling super self conscious. Perhaps I should have ignored the guidebook and opted for a Nigella style Burkini given they seem to appreciate my well cultivated (mostly curry & naan), bikini clad curves here a little too much. Add to this the constant "Hello Madam. Pineapple Juice?", "Hello Darling - Anklet?, "Hello hello - henna tattoo / water / bookmark / bag / manicure / pedicure" and my relaxing afternoon on the beach turns into a new & unfound lesson in how to totally ignore people.
Later that evening Erin and I head out to the advertised night market but are told that the license is not yet through. Instead we fight our way through the "non high season" crowds of locals, Russians and Brits in Calangute and Baga. The streets of North Goa are narrow, mopeds and taxis brush past you, the horns are back, shop owners hound you to come into their shop, English breakfasts are on sale and I feel a bit like we're in India's Benidorm. It's not my cup of tea (a British expression taught to the rest of the group).
We make the most of things - grab some beer & dinner, check out some great little shops and hunt for a bloody black and silver (or grey) throw for my Mum. (She has managed to pick the only unpopular colour combo in India it would seem).
Can the South redeem Goa and show us why thousands of tourists visit here for a relaxing beach holiday every year?!
Tomorrow will tell...
I head to Baga beach solo and set myself down on the sand. The beach is an eclectic mix of nationalities, cows, bathing costumes, string bikinis and touts selling their various wares. I am approached by a few men asking where I am from and if I am enjoying India. Some ask for photos with them (to which I quickly say no!) - some blatantly snap away from a safe distance on their mobile phones performing the infamous Indian head wobble as they do so (apparently this means something is agreeable). I've never felt so appreciated but at the same time I am feeling super self conscious. Perhaps I should have ignored the guidebook and opted for a Nigella style Burkini given they seem to appreciate my well cultivated (mostly curry & naan), bikini clad curves here a little too much. Add to this the constant "Hello Madam. Pineapple Juice?", "Hello Darling - Anklet?, "Hello hello - henna tattoo / water / bookmark / bag / manicure / pedicure" and my relaxing afternoon on the beach turns into a new & unfound lesson in how to totally ignore people.
Later that evening Erin and I head out to the advertised night market but are told that the license is not yet through. Instead we fight our way through the "non high season" crowds of locals, Russians and Brits in Calangute and Baga. The streets of North Goa are narrow, mopeds and taxis brush past you, the horns are back, shop owners hound you to come into their shop, English breakfasts are on sale and I feel a bit like we're in India's Benidorm. It's not my cup of tea (a British expression taught to the rest of the group).
We make the most of things - grab some beer & dinner, check out some great little shops and hunt for a bloody black and silver (or grey) throw for my Mum. (She has managed to pick the only unpopular colour combo in India it would seem).
Can the South redeem Goa and show us why thousands of tourists visit here for a relaxing beach holiday every year?!
Tomorrow will tell...
Lessons in Kama Sutra
After a heavy night's partying, we have a leisurely start to the day. I meet Johannes and Claus for breakfast in the hotel and given it's the penultimate day of the tour I start thinking about how I'm going to make it down to Kerala independently. There are no direct flights until Saturday (which is too late). Erin has decided to join me so we agree to train/bus it. We will stay another night in Calangute, North Goa and then head south tomorrow to a beach, that my friend Angela has recommended (Palolem). The plan is to then get to Mangalore.
As a group we head to Anjuna beach and find some sun loungers where we crash for the afternoon. The beaches in North Goa are wide and sweeping, fringed with palm trees with wooden beach huts. They are disappointingly dirty in places and the water is a dark but an achingly warm, green. I have to confess that if I'd booked a two week holiday to Goa expecting Thai or Australian quality beaches I would have been very disappointed. Nevertheless sitting watching the waves crash in, looking out on the miles of rolling beach and ocean at The Sunset Bar, sipping ice cold Diet Coke, reading my book and watching people enjoying the surf, it could be a lot worse.
There are lots of Russians in Goa, they even have their own mafia base here. As encountered in Egypt - as a nation they seem to be incredibly fond of posing for photos (in as minimal clothing as possible) so part of our afternoon's entertainment is spent watching a couple take turns performing various playboy type poses in a string bikini and speedos.
Some other entertainment, slightly more worthy of being noted, is a family with a young daughter able to walk a tightrope with her feet following the curves of a hoola hoop against the rope six feet off the floor. They carry the wooden poles and rope able to construct their stage in less than a minute, hammering stakes into the sand to keep the platform tight. The girl works the tourists in front of her with many handing over notes for her efforts.
Despite using sun cream and it being very cloudy, when we get back to the hotel I realise I'm super burnt making a mental note to slather more on tomorrow. We crash out for a few hours and then meet for our farewell dinner.
We arrive at Brittos, a stunning restaurant, lit with candles, soft lighting and spilling gently onto Baga beach. I share some red wine with Johannes & Claus and decide to try some of the local speciality fish which comes bathed in garlic. It's a gorgeous place to savour our last night together and we spend the evening recounting our favourite places and stories from the trip. I'm sad to say goodbye as have made some lifelong friends.
After dinner we head for drinks at a nearby club where we have a few last dances and Ricky demonstrates that Bhangra style dancing can indeed be used to dance to any genre of music to (including the song Tudthumping by Chumbawumba. We say our first sad goodbyes to Johannes & Claus, who are flying home tomorrow at 4am, and the rest of the group leave me, Erin, Ricky and his cousin, Arj, partying.
We have an insightful chat with Arj discussing how western women are viewed in India and why he thinks arranged marriages are so successful. He tells us that the most important part of selecting a bride for their son is the woman's horoscope. If a woman has a bad horoscope she is almost destined to be a spinster (cats optional). Otherwise provided the horoscope predicts a good life and family AND that they belong to the same caste (if marrying outside of their caste and into a 'love marriage' the majority of Indian families disown their kids) they are good to go. Further selection criteria would be that she comes from a reputable family with good values and there is no dishonour. Looks, education and other traits valued in the west are not even mentioned.
I ask him what would happen if his family selected someone that he bore no physical attraction to and he simply says that he trusts his parents to choose someone suitable and he is looking for a life partner, a good wife and someone to love him. The attraction grows from here. He also goes into quite some detail about the importance of sex in marriage. If an Indian man is unable to satisfy his wife this brings great shame on him. Suddenly the Kama Sutra all makes sense!
We talk about Hinduism, souls, energy, karma, Islam and Buddhism. It's an intellectual and spiritual feast (especially after the rum!).
Ricky and Erin are succumbing to lack of sleep and the kamikaze shots being administered by Arj. Despite this they remain keen to party. After a few more dances I make our excuses and we say goodbye to Arj to head back to the hotel.
Something tells me we've left a very disappointed Arj behind at the club keen to demonstrate his tantric prowess on someone...
As a group we head to Anjuna beach and find some sun loungers where we crash for the afternoon. The beaches in North Goa are wide and sweeping, fringed with palm trees with wooden beach huts. They are disappointingly dirty in places and the water is a dark but an achingly warm, green. I have to confess that if I'd booked a two week holiday to Goa expecting Thai or Australian quality beaches I would have been very disappointed. Nevertheless sitting watching the waves crash in, looking out on the miles of rolling beach and ocean at The Sunset Bar, sipping ice cold Diet Coke, reading my book and watching people enjoying the surf, it could be a lot worse.
There are lots of Russians in Goa, they even have their own mafia base here. As encountered in Egypt - as a nation they seem to be incredibly fond of posing for photos (in as minimal clothing as possible) so part of our afternoon's entertainment is spent watching a couple take turns performing various playboy type poses in a string bikini and speedos.
Some other entertainment, slightly more worthy of being noted, is a family with a young daughter able to walk a tightrope with her feet following the curves of a hoola hoop against the rope six feet off the floor. They carry the wooden poles and rope able to construct their stage in less than a minute, hammering stakes into the sand to keep the platform tight. The girl works the tourists in front of her with many handing over notes for her efforts.
Despite using sun cream and it being very cloudy, when we get back to the hotel I realise I'm super burnt making a mental note to slather more on tomorrow. We crash out for a few hours and then meet for our farewell dinner.
We arrive at Brittos, a stunning restaurant, lit with candles, soft lighting and spilling gently onto Baga beach. I share some red wine with Johannes & Claus and decide to try some of the local speciality fish which comes bathed in garlic. It's a gorgeous place to savour our last night together and we spend the evening recounting our favourite places and stories from the trip. I'm sad to say goodbye as have made some lifelong friends.
After dinner we head for drinks at a nearby club where we have a few last dances and Ricky demonstrates that Bhangra style dancing can indeed be used to dance to any genre of music to (including the song Tudthumping by Chumbawumba. We say our first sad goodbyes to Johannes & Claus, who are flying home tomorrow at 4am, and the rest of the group leave me, Erin, Ricky and his cousin, Arj, partying.
We have an insightful chat with Arj discussing how western women are viewed in India and why he thinks arranged marriages are so successful. He tells us that the most important part of selecting a bride for their son is the woman's horoscope. If a woman has a bad horoscope she is almost destined to be a spinster (cats optional). Otherwise provided the horoscope predicts a good life and family AND that they belong to the same caste (if marrying outside of their caste and into a 'love marriage' the majority of Indian families disown their kids) they are good to go. Further selection criteria would be that she comes from a reputable family with good values and there is no dishonour. Looks, education and other traits valued in the west are not even mentioned.
I ask him what would happen if his family selected someone that he bore no physical attraction to and he simply says that he trusts his parents to choose someone suitable and he is looking for a life partner, a good wife and someone to love him. The attraction grows from here. He also goes into quite some detail about the importance of sex in marriage. If an Indian man is unable to satisfy his wife this brings great shame on him. Suddenly the Kama Sutra all makes sense!
We talk about Hinduism, souls, energy, karma, Islam and Buddhism. It's an intellectual and spiritual feast (especially after the rum!).
Ricky and Erin are succumbing to lack of sleep and the kamikaze shots being administered by Arj. Despite this they remain keen to party. After a few more dances I make our excuses and we say goodbye to Arj to head back to the hotel.
Something tells me we've left a very disappointed Arj behind at the club keen to demonstrate his tantric prowess on someone...
Thursday, 1 November 2012
Ladies who Lunch (breakfast)...
Rekha and her husband collect me from my hotel just before 9am in their chauffeur driven car - it's a taste of luxury in comparison to what I've been experiencing over the last few days. Rekha is originally from India and her husband is German - they have recently relocated back here after a long stint in Europe. Rekha and I know each other from working at MasterCard together and it's lovely to see her and tell her all about my travels in Incredible India so far.
I'm beyond excited when we go to Starbucks (the first to open here) and I have Chai tea and pastries for breakfast. We're quickly joined by Rekha's friend and after some coffee she's very kindly commanded her driver to give me a mini tour of Mumbai where I get to see The Gateway to India, Chowpatty Beach, Marine Drive and The Taj hotel which was also at the centre of the terror attacks.
Dropping me outside my hotel, I say my farewells and meet the group to head to the airport. I'm not sure how I feel about Mumbai - to me it feels like a city trying to claw it's way to being a modern first world destination but it's busting under the pressure. The stark contrast between the super wealthy and poor is most evident here with whole skyscrapers being constructed as one person's house overlooking slums.
Michael is now super sick and has apparently spent most of the night being ill. A doctor has had to be called for an injection to be administered. Seems we're slowly dropping like flies! I'm feeling better and a day off the medicine seems to have helped.
We eventually get to the airport to catch the Indigo air flight and after some bumpy turbulence touch down in the wet, humid and peaceful green terrain of Goa.
It's straight to the town after dinner and before I know it I'm in a club sipping Sex on the Beach cocktails and drinking Kingfisher beer at 2 for 70 Rupees. It's not long before we hit the dance floor and I meet some guys from Manchester who are trying to shake away their Russian conquests from the night before.
Yes - it's official. We have arrived in the party capital of India and I'm on the last official few days of the tour before I head down to Kochin and Kerala.
I'm beyond excited when we go to Starbucks (the first to open here) and I have Chai tea and pastries for breakfast. We're quickly joined by Rekha's friend and after some coffee she's very kindly commanded her driver to give me a mini tour of Mumbai where I get to see The Gateway to India, Chowpatty Beach, Marine Drive and The Taj hotel which was also at the centre of the terror attacks.
Dropping me outside my hotel, I say my farewells and meet the group to head to the airport. I'm not sure how I feel about Mumbai - to me it feels like a city trying to claw it's way to being a modern first world destination but it's busting under the pressure. The stark contrast between the super wealthy and poor is most evident here with whole skyscrapers being constructed as one person's house overlooking slums.
Michael is now super sick and has apparently spent most of the night being ill. A doctor has had to be called for an injection to be administered. Seems we're slowly dropping like flies! I'm feeling better and a day off the medicine seems to have helped.
We eventually get to the airport to catch the Indigo air flight and after some bumpy turbulence touch down in the wet, humid and peaceful green terrain of Goa.
It's straight to the town after dinner and before I know it I'm in a club sipping Sex on the Beach cocktails and drinking Kingfisher beer at 2 for 70 Rupees. It's not long before we hit the dance floor and I meet some guys from Manchester who are trying to shake away their Russian conquests from the night before.
Yes - it's official. We have arrived in the party capital of India and I'm on the last official few days of the tour before I head down to Kochin and Kerala.
Bombay dreaming...
We wake up on the train and it seems the others (sharing one carriage) have had an interesting night. Erin was found sleeping with her tongue touching the seat (not recommended here) and everyone else was rudely awakened by a local guy stretching and farting his way to start the day. I have slept soundly, pretty much the whole way, cradling my passport & valuables.
As we pull into Mumbai we pass some of the infamous slums, where Slumdog Millionaire was set, and watch kids playing alongside the railway lines, people taking a wash in a bucket and others going to the toilet. The slums are said to export over $600M worth of goods yearly and many people who hold blue collar jobs still live there.
We head into a couple of retro looking taxis and arrive at the worst hotel of the trip so far, the optimistically named Royal Castle. The rooms stink of cigarette smoke and our bathroom is 20 degrees hotter than the bedroom due to the hot water boiler. Like most places we've stayed, there is no toilet paper - a simple hand held shower nozzle by the pan replaces the need and reduces the paper going into the city's already groaning sewage system.
The rooms aren't quite ready so we head for brunch (again at the optimistically named Cafe Ideal) where I go for a cheese & pineapple toastie.
Michael, Laura and I head to find a mall to buy some semi decent clothes as Ricky tells us we'll be going to a nice restaurant tonight. I find a Mango and buy myself a couple of dresses (the curry, naan and cheese toasties has most definitely taken their toll - I'm thinking forward to the bikini situation in Goa - eek!).
I head back to the hotel and crash for the afternoon as I'm still not 100%. A few of the others head out for a Slum & Laundry tour before we meet up for our evening out.
All glammed up we head out onto the streets of Bombay and to 'Leopold's'. Upon arrival I'm not sure the new dress was entirely necessary as it has more of a cafe feel. We're led upstairs to the air con part of the establishment which turns out being an Indian style Smokey Joes (minus the pole and decent (yes) toilets). Neon bar signs buzz on the walls, a DJ playing Brian Adams, Bonnie Tyler, Dire Straits and the Ghostbusters theme tune operates from the corner. I learn that this bar is where part of the eleven coordinated Mumbai terror attacks occurred.
The food is pretty bad and I'm not drinking so it's a tame night for me.
I head to bed Bombay dreaming and looking forward to a reunion with my friend Rekha tomorrow morning.
As we pull into Mumbai we pass some of the infamous slums, where Slumdog Millionaire was set, and watch kids playing alongside the railway lines, people taking a wash in a bucket and others going to the toilet. The slums are said to export over $600M worth of goods yearly and many people who hold blue collar jobs still live there.
We head into a couple of retro looking taxis and arrive at the worst hotel of the trip so far, the optimistically named Royal Castle. The rooms stink of cigarette smoke and our bathroom is 20 degrees hotter than the bedroom due to the hot water boiler. Like most places we've stayed, there is no toilet paper - a simple hand held shower nozzle by the pan replaces the need and reduces the paper going into the city's already groaning sewage system.
The rooms aren't quite ready so we head for brunch (again at the optimistically named Cafe Ideal) where I go for a cheese & pineapple toastie.
Michael, Laura and I head to find a mall to buy some semi decent clothes as Ricky tells us we'll be going to a nice restaurant tonight. I find a Mango and buy myself a couple of dresses (the curry, naan and cheese toasties has most definitely taken their toll - I'm thinking forward to the bikini situation in Goa - eek!).
I head back to the hotel and crash for the afternoon as I'm still not 100%. A few of the others head out for a Slum & Laundry tour before we meet up for our evening out.
All glammed up we head out onto the streets of Bombay and to 'Leopold's'. Upon arrival I'm not sure the new dress was entirely necessary as it has more of a cafe feel. We're led upstairs to the air con part of the establishment which turns out being an Indian style Smokey Joes (minus the pole and decent (yes) toilets). Neon bar signs buzz on the walls, a DJ playing Brian Adams, Bonnie Tyler, Dire Straits and the Ghostbusters theme tune operates from the corner. I learn that this bar is where part of the eleven coordinated Mumbai terror attacks occurred.
The food is pretty bad and I'm not drinking so it's a tame night for me.
I head to bed Bombay dreaming and looking forward to a reunion with my friend Rekha tomorrow morning.
Temples, Panthers, Puppies & Puke
I wake up feeling hungover and sick. Not sure how much is alcohol related and how much is the flu/cold. Heading to breakfast Ricky tells us that a panther killed a wild boar next to the pool last night and we all glance at each other nervously - super glad we didn't set up camp to sleep there after all! Erin even more so than the rest of us!
One of the hotel's dogs has had puppies that are 10 days old. We're taken to where she has hidden them, in a den, safely away from reach of the panthers made from sticks that crack as you get close and they are buried into the side of a hill. We have cuddles with one of them - they are adorable!
I'm not the only one who is ill. Johannes and Claus are also not feeling good. Michael, Ricky and Laura seem to be OK now but think the pace and lack of basic food hygiene is taking it's toll on our bodies - certainly mine. We take the jeep to Ranakpur temple, driving past monkeys, over a bridge adorned with stone elephants and eventually arrive at the Jain place of worship, seemingly in the middle of nowhere with a subtle likeness to Angkor Wat. Jainism is a strain of Hinduism and some worshippers prefer to practice entirely naked. The temple is 600 years old and contains 144 uniquely carved pillars depicting various gods and deities. We are shown around by one of the priests who takes us to the highlights of the temple including the 'tree of life' which appears to have a form of the elephant god Ganesh within it. Upon leaving the temple I'm told to cast a wish - I hold my eyes tight and send my wish forwards to the shrine and upwards to the sky.
When we leave we come across a stray puppy and then realise there are a further three awkwardly frolicking in the dust - still gangly and a few weeks old. They try and nibble our trousers, play with Michael's camera strap and these ones look like they shouldn't be petted. They seem to be attracting more attention than the temple.
Johannes has been quickly going down hill and doesn't make it into the temple opting to sit in the shade instead. He's slowly turning 50 Shades of Green (and yes today the blog was nearly titled this). On our drive back we have to pull the jeep over and a scene worthy of the exorcist unfolds before us. Poor Johannes is super sick.
Returning back to Aranyawas we pack up, I order a packed lunch (a dubious looking cheese sandwich) and head to the jeep to pick up our train to Mumbai.
We wait at the platform in Falna for an hour and eventually a long blue train pulls sleepily into the station. We fight with our bags onto the correct carriage and Ricky points us to our beds. Mine is lying parallel to a window and consists of a basic blue plastic bench bed. There are six other beds in the compartment with no doors. Two women sit in the beds opposite and they stare unashamedly at me. After some initial luggage chaos I relax down making myself a pillow using my sealed dirty laundry bag and put on my fleece. When I take out my face wipes they look bemused and stare at me as if I am performing a strange western ritual. Eventually we are given a pillow and blanket. I'm still not feeling too good so I bed down for the 13.5hr journey ahead. I fall asleep quickly, gently being rocked to sleep by the soothing movement of the train.
One of the hotel's dogs has had puppies that are 10 days old. We're taken to where she has hidden them, in a den, safely away from reach of the panthers made from sticks that crack as you get close and they are buried into the side of a hill. We have cuddles with one of them - they are adorable!
I'm not the only one who is ill. Johannes and Claus are also not feeling good. Michael, Ricky and Laura seem to be OK now but think the pace and lack of basic food hygiene is taking it's toll on our bodies - certainly mine. We take the jeep to Ranakpur temple, driving past monkeys, over a bridge adorned with stone elephants and eventually arrive at the Jain place of worship, seemingly in the middle of nowhere with a subtle likeness to Angkor Wat. Jainism is a strain of Hinduism and some worshippers prefer to practice entirely naked. The temple is 600 years old and contains 144 uniquely carved pillars depicting various gods and deities. We are shown around by one of the priests who takes us to the highlights of the temple including the 'tree of life' which appears to have a form of the elephant god Ganesh within it. Upon leaving the temple I'm told to cast a wish - I hold my eyes tight and send my wish forwards to the shrine and upwards to the sky.
When we leave we come across a stray puppy and then realise there are a further three awkwardly frolicking in the dust - still gangly and a few weeks old. They try and nibble our trousers, play with Michael's camera strap and these ones look like they shouldn't be petted. They seem to be attracting more attention than the temple.
Johannes has been quickly going down hill and doesn't make it into the temple opting to sit in the shade instead. He's slowly turning 50 Shades of Green (and yes today the blog was nearly titled this). On our drive back we have to pull the jeep over and a scene worthy of the exorcist unfolds before us. Poor Johannes is super sick.
Returning back to Aranyawas we pack up, I order a packed lunch (a dubious looking cheese sandwich) and head to the jeep to pick up our train to Mumbai.
We wait at the platform in Falna for an hour and eventually a long blue train pulls sleepily into the station. We fight with our bags onto the correct carriage and Ricky points us to our beds. Mine is lying parallel to a window and consists of a basic blue plastic bench bed. There are six other beds in the compartment with no doors. Two women sit in the beds opposite and they stare unashamedly at me. After some initial luggage chaos I relax down making myself a pillow using my sealed dirty laundry bag and put on my fleece. When I take out my face wipes they look bemused and stare at me as if I am performing a strange western ritual. Eventually we are given a pillow and blanket. I'm still not feeling too good so I bed down for the 13.5hr journey ahead. I fall asleep quickly, gently being rocked to sleep by the soothing movement of the train.
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
The million dollar pen...
I've managed to pick up an ear infection (guessing from our pool antics) so I wake up and head straight to the chemist where I buy antibiotic drops over the counter for 50p. I also have a mouth ulcer, I'm starting to feel like I have a cold coming and the Imodium has sent me a little too far in the opposite direction! Staying healthy in India is proving a challenge!!! I am craving fruit, vegetables and anything non spicy! Apart from all of the above I'm still having an awesome time (and as Bron would say - at least I still have my ears, a mouth and digestive system).
Erin, Ricky, Geoff and Laura all get up at 7am this morning for an Ashtanga yoga class on the roof (I bow out graciously) and we meet for breakfast before loading up our jeep which will take us to Ranakpur.
Before we leave we try and stop at the Ray Ban shop however in the space of 10 minutes we have hit a car (the jeep had no scratch however the car was not so lucky). We are expecting to spend the next 30mins completing paperwork however just drive off with the other driver being slightly miffed. We then get caught in honking traffic while some people try and tame an angry bull - so it's a typical start to the day in India.
I know we are nearby so I try and find the 'Danny De Vito' lookalike I met yesterday selling textiles. I achieve this by showing other shop owners his photo and they all point me in the right direction. I find it amazing that despite Udaipur having a population of 400,000, everyone knows one another and the sense of community is ever strong.
We leave Udaipur and head out onto a rural track road. Our 2.5hr journey finds us in the middle of nowhere and a forest where we are staying at a place called Aranyawas. The resort is made up of a series of grey stone cottages that overlook a beautiful freshwater stream and green valley. It reminds me of a B&B in Howick, South Africa. I love it here and wish we were staying for longer than one night. The change of pace is wonderful.
Apparently there were two panthers and their cubs playing in the stream a few weeks back and I'm super jealous that I missed it. The panthers cause big problems for the owners here and they have killed two of their own pet dogs recently. I don't think George would last long! Sat on our balconies Laura, Michael and I scout the surrounds in the hope of seeing something and Laura manages to spot a mongoose whilst I only manage some chipmunks and a variety of beautiful birds. Sitting in the sun on the balcony overlooking the valley, with the water softly trickling in front is one of my highlights of the whole trip. It's hard to believe that I'm still in the same country as Delhi!
At 3pm Johannes, Laura, Ricky and I head out further into the forest on a horse safari. My horse is called Kulyani. At first she's rather feisty but after a while I am holding the reins tightly and keeping her under control (with the help of a guide). Ricky is totally at ease on horseback. He has told us many stories about when he used to run horseback tours near his home and he still actively plays polo (Prince Harry is due to play his team sometime soon).
We trot past rural homes, made of basic materials mostly sticks and mud. Goats are herded by small kids into the family small holdings with women cooking over wood fires in cauldrons. We pass buffalo, parrots in the trees and peacocks. The children and adults come running out to say hello and "bye bye" to us.
There is a small group of children, immaculately dressed in uniform, walking home from school and they are totally mesmerised by us. Ricky explains that they will very rarely see Western people so they must have followed us for miles! Eventually the boy in the group plucks up the courage to get my attention, point at his text book and make a sign for a pen. I say that I'm so sorry I don't have one and shake my head. He looks disappointed but he still follows us smiling and doesn't ask for money. Eventually we stop for a water break and I open my bag. Underneath the tissues, water bottle, money purse and camera I can see a MasterCard Priceless London pen lurking at the bottom. I ask Ricky if I can give it to him (taking into account what he'd said about encouraging begging and I'm so glad he said this is different as it's for school and education). I call the boy over and hand over the pen.
His reaction gives me a lump in my throat and I am, again, humbled that something I take for granted is so appreciated here. He stares at it, turning and twisting it in his fingers , admiring it, trying to read the writing and then excitedly opens his text book to check it's working. When the black ink scores into the paper I've never seen such a genuine look of wonder and gratitude on someone's face. It really was like I'd just given him a million dollars.
Ricky tells me that the boy will go into school and tell everyone that a foreign lady gave him the pen and no one will believe him. He said that his school friends will ask the guys who own the horses to confirm that he's telling the truth. I really wish I'd taken more pens.
We're out on the horses for 2.5hrs and watch the sun set. It's an 11km jeep ride back to our base where we chill out for a while and then head to dinner. This is an upmarket resort and they stock Indian red and white wine. Michael and I hit the red and are pleasantly surprised with the quality! After a buffet dinner we start another campfire listening to beautiful chill out music and chat animatedly together. The pet dogs come and sit with us and enjoy getting lots of fuss. We're eventually joined by an elderly Indian man who lives in Ilford and is here on holiday. With him he has his friend of 20years and an older plumper lady called Lolita. We offer them some rum and he asks lots of questions about our trip. He says he's so pleased to meet some English people willing and interested in learning about India and it's people. He tells us he hates wrongly being called a "Paki" back home and how badly educated most people are about Indian culture. Just as I'm saying what a lovely man he is, Lolita gets up and walks off. The elderly chap and his friend say their goodbyes and leave shortly after wishing us all well. Ricky explains that Lolita is in fact a prostitute and he'd asked for her to be locked in his room which raises some laughs and disbelief from the group!! He must have been at least 85...
After three bottles of red wine, shared with Michael & Erin, plus the obligatory rum / vodka I am definitely ready for my bed. Erin suggests we all sleep by the pool under the stars but I'm already pretty chilly (12 degrees at night here) so I say my good nights and head back to the cottage feeling a little worse for wear now on a number of levels...
Erin, Ricky, Geoff and Laura all get up at 7am this morning for an Ashtanga yoga class on the roof (I bow out graciously) and we meet for breakfast before loading up our jeep which will take us to Ranakpur.
Before we leave we try and stop at the Ray Ban shop however in the space of 10 minutes we have hit a car (the jeep had no scratch however the car was not so lucky). We are expecting to spend the next 30mins completing paperwork however just drive off with the other driver being slightly miffed. We then get caught in honking traffic while some people try and tame an angry bull - so it's a typical start to the day in India.
I know we are nearby so I try and find the 'Danny De Vito' lookalike I met yesterday selling textiles. I achieve this by showing other shop owners his photo and they all point me in the right direction. I find it amazing that despite Udaipur having a population of 400,000, everyone knows one another and the sense of community is ever strong.
We leave Udaipur and head out onto a rural track road. Our 2.5hr journey finds us in the middle of nowhere and a forest where we are staying at a place called Aranyawas. The resort is made up of a series of grey stone cottages that overlook a beautiful freshwater stream and green valley. It reminds me of a B&B in Howick, South Africa. I love it here and wish we were staying for longer than one night. The change of pace is wonderful.
Apparently there were two panthers and their cubs playing in the stream a few weeks back and I'm super jealous that I missed it. The panthers cause big problems for the owners here and they have killed two of their own pet dogs recently. I don't think George would last long! Sat on our balconies Laura, Michael and I scout the surrounds in the hope of seeing something and Laura manages to spot a mongoose whilst I only manage some chipmunks and a variety of beautiful birds. Sitting in the sun on the balcony overlooking the valley, with the water softly trickling in front is one of my highlights of the whole trip. It's hard to believe that I'm still in the same country as Delhi!
At 3pm Johannes, Laura, Ricky and I head out further into the forest on a horse safari. My horse is called Kulyani. At first she's rather feisty but after a while I am holding the reins tightly and keeping her under control (with the help of a guide). Ricky is totally at ease on horseback. He has told us many stories about when he used to run horseback tours near his home and he still actively plays polo (Prince Harry is due to play his team sometime soon).
We trot past rural homes, made of basic materials mostly sticks and mud. Goats are herded by small kids into the family small holdings with women cooking over wood fires in cauldrons. We pass buffalo, parrots in the trees and peacocks. The children and adults come running out to say hello and "bye bye" to us.
There is a small group of children, immaculately dressed in uniform, walking home from school and they are totally mesmerised by us. Ricky explains that they will very rarely see Western people so they must have followed us for miles! Eventually the boy in the group plucks up the courage to get my attention, point at his text book and make a sign for a pen. I say that I'm so sorry I don't have one and shake my head. He looks disappointed but he still follows us smiling and doesn't ask for money. Eventually we stop for a water break and I open my bag. Underneath the tissues, water bottle, money purse and camera I can see a MasterCard Priceless London pen lurking at the bottom. I ask Ricky if I can give it to him (taking into account what he'd said about encouraging begging and I'm so glad he said this is different as it's for school and education). I call the boy over and hand over the pen.
His reaction gives me a lump in my throat and I am, again, humbled that something I take for granted is so appreciated here. He stares at it, turning and twisting it in his fingers , admiring it, trying to read the writing and then excitedly opens his text book to check it's working. When the black ink scores into the paper I've never seen such a genuine look of wonder and gratitude on someone's face. It really was like I'd just given him a million dollars.
Ricky tells me that the boy will go into school and tell everyone that a foreign lady gave him the pen and no one will believe him. He said that his school friends will ask the guys who own the horses to confirm that he's telling the truth. I really wish I'd taken more pens.
We're out on the horses for 2.5hrs and watch the sun set. It's an 11km jeep ride back to our base where we chill out for a while and then head to dinner. This is an upmarket resort and they stock Indian red and white wine. Michael and I hit the red and are pleasantly surprised with the quality! After a buffet dinner we start another campfire listening to beautiful chill out music and chat animatedly together. The pet dogs come and sit with us and enjoy getting lots of fuss. We're eventually joined by an elderly Indian man who lives in Ilford and is here on holiday. With him he has his friend of 20years and an older plumper lady called Lolita. We offer them some rum and he asks lots of questions about our trip. He says he's so pleased to meet some English people willing and interested in learning about India and it's people. He tells us he hates wrongly being called a "Paki" back home and how badly educated most people are about Indian culture. Just as I'm saying what a lovely man he is, Lolita gets up and walks off. The elderly chap and his friend say their goodbyes and leave shortly after wishing us all well. Ricky explains that Lolita is in fact a prostitute and he'd asked for her to be locked in his room which raises some laughs and disbelief from the group!! He must have been at least 85...
After three bottles of red wine, shared with Michael & Erin, plus the obligatory rum / vodka I am definitely ready for my bed. Erin suggests we all sleep by the pool under the stars but I'm already pretty chilly (12 degrees at night here) so I say my good nights and head back to the cottage feeling a little worse for wear now on a number of levels...
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