Goa Calling

After a wonderfully relaxed time in Mumbai, checking out the sights and eating some wonderful meals with Rakesh's family, Rakesh and I headed off towards Goa on yet another arduous bus journey.

What felt like a few million aches later, both Rakesh and I emerged, wiping the sleep from our eyes to be welcomed by the madding crowds of tourists in Goa. Darn.

First a bit of a history lesson. Whilst much of India was invaded by the British way back when, Goa managed to have the unfortunate joy of being invaded by the Portuguese. Being rather laid back, they stopped there and failed to invade much else. I blame too much rum. However, it did mean that Goa was independent from India until the 1960's. So it consequently has a really bad road structure and a very laid back way of life. Correction, it did, until the droves of package tourists from England arrived. It's now like Tenerrife. Joy.

After escaping the madding crowds of tourists on a bike ride to a remote waterfall, we did find some semblance of interest outside of the hippy nonsense which had been thrown in our face all along the beaches and roads. Here we took a 40 minute jeep ride into their semi-dry jungle, complete with river crossings and ruts in the road which make weight-watchers members feel small and insignificant.

After a brief walk, we reached the waterfall, which was pretty impressive and even encouraged me to get my spangly legs out and have a swim/controlled drown.

From Goa, and with news of the blasts in Mumbai fresh in the news, we headed north to a small city of Kolhapur where we were to meet a lady who undertakes government projects in remote villages, staying with her and her family.

I wanted remote, and I think I got it. Basic was the name of the day. No running water, the same "power sharing" power cuts experienced in the other slum town. Front door made of a sheet of tin, about waist high. Walls made of scrap metal/wood/cow-dung. Roof of corrugated tin/straw. Wildlife, more that present.

In true estate agent speak, I shall now describe the room. Airy (it was the store-room and didn't have any windows), with a view of the stars (holes in the ceiling), atmospheric (noisy), connected with nature (counted two rats, one mouse, millions of roaches, millions of mozzies and a strange tick-like creature in the first night. The rat was first mistaken for a small dog), firm foundations (concrete/mud floor, which I was sleeping on), friendly family (very friendly, and like most Indian's who have nothing, they were far too generous.)

We're going to have to cut this short, as I've just been told "now closing time" at 21:41 at night - strange time, but they must have had enough of me!

Photos to follow and more stories too!

No need to worry

Hi all,

Thanks for your collective concern, but do not fear. Both Rakesh and I are well and are currently in Kolhapur, on our way back from Goa.

I will update the blog later, as we are rather "on the road" at the moment.

Until then....

Desert calling...

So there I was, in the middle of a field, sweat running down my sunburned nose, trying to deposit iodine solution to the nose-rings of to camels, as their handlers desperately fought to keep them under control. How did this happen? Let us rewind a few days, as I write this on my pda on a packed train to Mumbai, with three people looking over my shoulder- despite their lack of English...



After leaving Prasad and his friend following our week around Rajesthan, I had headed north to a small dusty boarder city called "Bikaner". Here, I arrived after an uneventful train journey early as the city woke up and quickly elicited the services of one of the street 'wideboys', Lucky.

For a small sum of 500 rupees, approximately 7 pounds, he offered to show me around the city, and drive me over 120km to two local sights, a rat temple and camel breeding farm. There was a catch though [Mum, look away now].

Lucky only had a motorbike.


So there I was in a small desert town on the northern boarder with Pakistan, following the more alternative tourist path. Following a full day of sightseeing, including a temple which worships rats (which are believed to be the souls of x-believers)

From Hadyn's Travel Blog Photo Dump (India)

I checked into a family run guest-house, costing slightly more than 1 pound 70 per night, including a free bottle of "Kwality Kwencher" water. The accommodation was of a similar standard. Roaches, mozzies and noise at 3am from a local temple come as standard!


That evening I ate with the family, conversing with a very interesting doctor from Pune (where Prasad lives). We discussed many things that evening, ranging from cycling to bedside manner, finally resting on his impending camel trek. At the end of the conversation it was agreed that I join him for the first couple of days of his trek. Unfortunately, it was not to be.



In the early hours of the morning, I awoke with two very urgent needs. One needed a bucket, one a toilet. I shall spare the gory details, but over the next 36 hours, I moved about 5m from the bed (the toilet was 5m away), used the bucket ~20, and the toilet ~30 times. Nice it was not. I hope it shall remain the lowest point of my trip.

Following the delay, I decided to set off on the camel trek despite not feeling all that dandy. With two camels, a camel cart and no less than three guides, of which only one spoke a smattering of English, the Hadyn camel train was rolling out of town. Following a 90 minute drive into the desert, we would head to a small village about 20 km deeper into the sand.

Camels are foul, smelly, ugly beasts, this much I remember from a trip in the Sahara when I was younger, but mine was really ugly, even by camel standards [so ugly, I included its photo at the start, with a sunset to offset the ugly-ness, a pile of sewage would have done similar though....] If it were a human, it would be Anne Widdicome. And it was naked. It does have one redeeming feature that Anne does not have though, its ears were quite cute and furry. This still didn't make up for the smell.

After only an hour I needed to get off. Sitting astride this camel was akin to doing the splits on a washing machine full of bricks. I asked if i could get off. "Yes" was the reply. 50m later, I asked again. "Yes" was the reply. 50m later, I asked them to stop. "Yes" was the reply. 5m later, I asked them if it was okay to jump. "Yes" was the reply. So I jumped off a 9ft high camel, moving over uneven terrain.



"Sir, sir they cried". In my mind I had done a very adept dismount, complete with 'combat roll' to keep me on my feet. In reality, I had done a very ungainly dismount, complete with half a break-fall directly into a ditch, bursting my water bottle all over me in the process. Luckily no one but the camel saw. Practise needed.
After what seemed like eternity of butt-pain, punctuated only by a break in a field to take lunch over an open fire, we came to our destination camp. Here I quickly went about setting up a fire using a flint and steel I brought along for the jungle, showing my guides not all white tourists don't have a clue about the outdoor life. I then headed off about 500m over to another camp we could see in the distance.

Here I met 4 Germans, who spoke about as good English as I speak German, so we could got by ok. I then went about showing them navigation using the night sky - a great party trick if you ever need one, and we passed away the late hours staring into the darknessas their guide listened on intently...

Day two consisted of more trekking including visiting a remote hamlet, where being white, I drew quite a crowd (yes, those sunglasses are mine!)



There I showed them the fire lighting and tried to describe a bear through acting (i was wearing a Bear Grylls shirt, complete with picture). I also taught the crowd the English for water, tree and camel. They did a bad job at teaching me the three in Hindi, as I can only remember water, which I already knew. It was still great fun and I think the pupil was to blame.

We then stopped for some lunch over in a field not far away from pick-up point. Whilst gathering wood, one of the guides managed to give himself a nasty splinter, so I offered an antiseptic cream from my rather extensive first aid kit to help him out. On seeing this level of medical knowledge, and probably the fact that my first aid kit equals that of any local ambulance, the two owners of the camels started gesticulating wildly at their noses and pointing towards their camels... Which brings me to my opening statement.



As my train continues its winding journey through India, the crowd watching my pda dissipates. It is time for me to get some rest amongst all in the second lowest of 7 train classes - costing 6 pounds for a 24 hour journey. Only 18 hours to go, with shouts of 'chai' filling the air. Should be interesting!

Currently I'm chilling in Mumbai after having met up with Rakesh and his family. I shall tell you more, later...

Mass tourisim

In contrast to the many days on the road, winding through small villages with people using traditional methods to tend their fields, the past few days have introduced us, slap bang, into mass tourism. At last, there were other white faces to distract the stares!

The first event was a large Muslim temple, which it is believed to be the second most important place in the Muslim world after Mecca. In fact, seven visits to this place, is equal to one of Mecca - now that's a pretty exact measure of holy-ness

Here the crowd felt somewhat different, with my companions on edge and the driver warning us not to take anything with us, there was a perceived air of hostility towards us. Yes, they stared just like any other crowd at the freaky white-man with his pale skin, but the stares were not at my face, more at my wallet. Perhaps it is all the negative press Muslim's have been getting in the media recently, but even so, what was to follow was not something any of us would like to repeat.

After donning a piece of cloth over our heads and taking our shoes off to respect their religious beliefs, we were ushered through a metal detector (the usual pseudo security ensued, where for everyone it beeped, but no-one cared). Once being relieved of my camera as photos weren't allowed, we headed towards the central temple area.

If anyone has been to a rock concert, they know what a mosh-pit is. For those who haven't, it's a grey line in between a crowd and a fight. Inside this temple, there was what could only be described as chaos. Everyone wanted to get in. No-one wanted to leave. So after getting to the front (not hard when you are twice the size of everyone around you) we were greeted with the expression "as you like", pointing towards the tips bowl. This was less optional then one would think, and the crowd organisers got rather shirty until one of our group gave about 300 rupees (7 pounds, ish) as he was giving for a friend of his as well.

From here, we were treated like celebrities, ushered out, then back in the queue at the front, before being pushed head first into the central idol, to make our prayer. Again, with shouts of "as you like". Perhaps it's karma, but Prasad and I both hit our heads on the way up. We also didn't indulge the "as you like" brigade. We won't be "liking" again, thanks.

From here, we went to the Pushkar Camel festival, which was an excellent event held each year whereby traders from all the tribes around the region sell their camels and horses. After snaking through many km (I kid you not) of crowded streets of "hippy nonsense", we finally made it to the centre, where the real business was being done with camels, horses and camel pet-stores.

All the silly decorations a camel owner could ask for. Multi-coloured nose peg sir? How about some fancy dangly things to hang off your camel? My, what a pretty camel. Two seconds whilst I take this call....

Even remote tribes-people, it seems, have mobiles!

Forever hunted by rickshaw drivers and beggars, desperate for their next taste of tourist cash, we continued on to Jaipur (where I currently am) and decided to take in some of the local sights and museums.

Much to the amusement of my travel companions, it was time for Mr Tourist to take a fleecing again. Not by some scam, trick or cunning of the local crowd, but by full endorsement of the office of tourism. For every sight we have been too, they charge one fee for Indian tourists, and one for foreign. I think you can guess who gets it cheaper. In the city palace, it cost me 300 rupees, with my friends coming to 80 rupees for the both of them. However, I got a free ticket to use my camera - which would have cost them 50 rupees each. Wow. This place was slightly cheaper, but you get the idea.

My gloating was short lived, when next to each sight there was a sign say "no photography". It was rubbish anyway, so I felt even more fleeced.

However, just across the road was one of the best places I've ever visited. Even more shocking, it was educational, so it was cheap (for Indian's anyway)! Back in 1750, one of the kings had a bit of a hobby for astrology. So he built a bunch of highly accurate sun-dials, and other such instruments to determine the time (down to an accuracy of 2 seconds) and anything associated with the tilt or rotation of the earth. Mostly star-signs. After being a little sceptical of the 2 second claim associated with the 15 story sun-dial, we took a look at the smaller sun-dial (still about 1.5 stories high) which maintained 20 second accuracy. Working it out for ourselves, we actually realised that the thing was darn accurate. Enough that my watch has been adjusted by 20 seconds to "sun time" :-)

With a day of mind expanding information taking its toll on us all, we decided to chill for a few minutes in the first park which I have seen on this round of travels.

In the cool breeze of the evening sunshine, with the rickshaw drivers blazing their horns around us, a tranquil serenity began to overcome us. That was, until a group of about 15 youths began to walk directly towards us. Ranging from about 6 to 16, this crowd split into two groups, with the small ones being sent in first to "soften us up". Quickly I grabbed my bag, thinking the worst. As they got closer they didn't look as menacing as I was expecting. What a way to go I thought, being beaten up by 15 kids in the middle of a park... I can see the head-stone now. "Here lies Hadyn, 6 years of martial arts lessons and he got taken by a bunch of kids. [Simpsons voice]"Haha!"

As everything in India, all is not what it seemed. Once the kids got within striking range, they presented their weapon of choice, the worlds largest and cruddiest camera. After a brief haggle between them and Prasad, or "Hadyn's agent" as he shall now be called (it turns out they were trying to sell my photo!) the kids gathered around and took a photo. I insisted they I take a photo as well, but only after a few of them had left (I would like to say the ones who had left were all 7 foot tall and built like tanks, but no, they were all pretty puny too!)

As I have promised for a while now, I'm heading up to Bukiner (or something like that anyway) on a 10 hour sleeper train to go for a camel ride and visit a temple full of rats. Until then, have fun!

P.S. Following some unfortunate news from my friend Rakesh who I shall be meeting next week, we have had to cancel our activity holiday which was going to involve some rafting and abseiling - although we are trying to arrange something a little different instead.... Watch this space...

It's the small things...

The thing which gets you about India are the small things.

Take for example, my hotel. A suitably high class hotel in the middle of nowhere (otherwise known as Udipur - the same place they filmed Jams Bond's Octopussy) it is blatently designed for the foreign or higher class Indian tourist. Every glass has "sanitised for your protection" written on it, and the toilet is wrapped in similar paper. Like a reverse biohazard label I suppose - they know us western tourists are worriers evidently!

Now comes the Indian part: they leave on the "fragile, handle with carelabel which was wrapped around the bath when it was installed, so that it's actually cemented into the bathroom (see picture below). Mornings always involve a cold shower (3 out of three mornings anyway) . I could ask for a bucket of hot water, but it would take so long I cannot be bothered. Then there is the rubbish.

The rubbish is so amusing it warrants it's own section, although some would argue it needs a whole book. Every morning you will find a shop-keeper sweeping up his shop, as they do in the UK. The difference in India, is that they sweep the dusty pile of crud from one stone onto the adjacent stone. One stone is theirs, the other one, is the "streets". Resultantly, when the car drives past, it blows it back onto their shop. That's lunch's work sorted then!

Next to every tourist sight you will find a huge deposit of rubbish. That's because somewhere along the line, some poor soul has been asked to clean up the rubbish. So they take it from the tourist destination and drop it. However, they drop it on the first stone which isn't technically the tourist location.

The person in charge below just thought that tipping it over the wall was the best way forward.

...or the main entrance to an ancient temple, with rusting poles for free. Nice.

Then there is disorganisation and irony, both in large measures around every city...

...followed by the association that anything good must be English (i.e. English Medicine shops, English wine shops etc...)

One of the campest man alive (he posed for two photos and insisted I wait whilst he "composed himself") !!

....and the final shot to let everyone know that I'm still breathing :-)

Yet it all still works, and it is this crazy nature which makes it so appealing. So I say bring on the rubbish and cold showers, as long as it comes with the character and charm I have come to expect :-)

That's all for now, but we are heading east over the next couple of days, and hopefully increasing the interest in our tour, as the tourist trail begins to wear thinner.....

Incredible India

Wow. It’s certainly been a really interested few days.

An uneventful flight led swiftly into my first adventure into an outlying province of Mumbai. After a one hour taxi journey, which gave me time to practice my Hindi (currently limited to “hi” and “thanks”) acclimatize to the climate and recall the hustle and bustle of this fascinating country, I was swiftly deposited into an Indian “slum” town.

With my 18 kilo bag in tow, I took to taking a walk around town and soon became the local celebrity. People stopped, people stared, and one person even fell off his bike, smashing into a parked car whilst looking at me. They don’t get many visitors it seems. So I took to watching a local magic show and everyone watching the magic show took to watching me instead.

After about 45 minute’s entertainment, which cost me little over 10p in tips, I struck up a conversation with a selection of smartly dressed local college students. Enquiring as to where the local cricket games took place, they promptly instigated a match for me. Before I could even mention that I was rubbish, a bat was summoned via motorbike messenger and the local battered remains of the college ground assigned as the battleground. It was fitting four our collective cricket skills. My lack of skill fitted in perfectly with their game where being “caught out” means you have been caught before the second bounce – running was outlawed it seems as it was too much like hard work, and although over 40 people were involved in the game (which started with about 8 people), over 30 of them were involved in people watching. Hadyn watching, to be precise. I did my country proud, hitting the ball well past the seven year old assigned to my flank. Ahhh, the colonial spirit lives one.

My friends then took me around their town, stopping in a restaurant of their friends, where promptly the power went out. It turns out that where my Indian friend, Prasad, had asked me to wait for him to meet me, was actually classified as a slum. Given India’s current power shortage, all power was cut to the city for about 5 hours a day during peak periods. So there we eat our food, mostly in the dark, some of the time under generator power. Either way, the selection was excellent, if rather hot.

After a brief trip to a temple (by which stage I was being given free bananas and flowers due to my English-ness), and yet more chance for my friends to show off what they believe to be the first white visitor to the town, in their lifetime, we headed off to McDonalds for a final send off and to meet with Prasad’s bus.

On arrival of the “hell-bus” as it shall now be called, it became swiftly obvious that Indian people are shorter than the presenting 6’2” tall Brit. About a foot shorter. 12 long hours later, one tired Brit emerged from the bus to be subjected to more random shouts of “how are you?” (which were often replied to with a really enthusiastic and intentionally incomprehensible “totally spiffing” as their questions actually mean "how can I sell something to you?".)

With our ever ready supply of rick-shaw drivers gawping at us we waited by the side of the road. Let’s just say I know how the “freak show” at the circus feels like – many of the places we were going were rather off the tourist road.

The day consisted of the usual affair of seeing religious and other supposedly interesting tourist sights, but my friends took great amusement in the fact that at every interesting sight I was taking photos of the people, the piles of rubbish or the signs rather than the item itself. I did take a few photos of what I was supposed to be interested in as well, but on the whole it’s the sights and sounds which made if special.

One perfect example is that of “sunset point” in Rajasthan, near Udaipur. Here over one thousand people gathered, huddled at the top of a hill, to see the sun set. I could have sworn that this would be the last sunset ever there were so many people. Nothing like spending a serene sunset with people selling their goods at the top of their voice and a few hundred tourists (all but five of which were Indian) huddled at the top of these rocks. What did make it though were the crazy porters, who would offer to carry/ hoarse ride/ kart you around for a nominal fee, all of which were running around like crazy people to try and get their next fee!

After spending the evening meal in a wonderful restaurant in a 5 * hotel (which cost less than 6 pounds) I then got some well needed rest. Well, I did once the maid left me alone – six separate entries were required, giving one bar of soap, then the other, then the towel, then the key, then another towel, finally “just to check”. I think they were looking for something, although I had already tipped one guy 50 rupees for his help of carrying my 18 kilo bag from the car (about 80p) – evidently too much. Normally I resist help like that, but it wasn't worth the hassle of saying "no".

Today has been a great day, starting with a superb trip across some of Rajasthan’s tribal areas, we have seen many of the local tribes-people, narrowly avoided getting hit by a few thousand trucks, eaten in the middle of no-where and spent the evening first watching local dancers, then eating food over Octopussy (James Bond) which apparently was filmed in the city we are currently located. Apparently that James bond is shown in most of the restaurants, daily, at 7pm. I can imagine how the waiters must love it.

Oh, and if that wasn’t enough, we saw some of the chaos which makes India so great – firework rockets being let off in the middle of the street, some of which bounced off the wheels of local motorbikes trying to make a hasty retreat through the traffic!

I cannot wait for tomorrow….. Jaipur beckons....

[Photos uploaded here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/27183292@N08/]

All the gear....

....but hopefully some idea.

Well, following many days of packing, sorting, waterproofing, bug-proofing and generally just getting ready, I believe that I'm finally there.

I've kept this intentionally short and instead focused on tagging the image of everything I'm taking with me [lets hope tagging is enabled!]

Enjoy!



Edit - here is the tagged version:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27183292@N08/3006015139/#preview