India 2010

Kolkata the final leg

2010-01-23T15:42:00.000-08:00

I spent the day wandering around kolkata, first to the effigy sculptors and then to the bustling flower market underneath the Howrah bridge that crosses the hooghly river (best rivername ever). It's an interesting place to wander, past the crumbling characterful buildings and little shops.

I bid the city adieu and went to the airport where I would spend the night for the early morning flight to Dehli. It was the first night that the mosquitos had been a problem. They even stung me on my sodding eyelid! I soon forgot the the transgressions of the winged beasties when I boarded the kingfisher jet. Kingfisher is the no.1 beer brand in India. Not content with just alcoholic beverages the chubby funster chairman also has a bottled water company too, so wether you're getting sloshed or you're driving he's got you dead to rights. His airline is comical. Very efficient, friendly, and not to mention rather good looking airhostesses guide you through check-in right through to arrival. They were "hand-picked" by the chairman him self and are attired in exceedingly short firey red designer skirts and every effort is made so that one too many buttons are undone on their blouses (not that I'm complaining). The air hostesses have even done a charity calender this year where they swap their flight gear for bikinis. We were then handed a complimentary juice box, on the packaging of the lemony beverage it claimed: "Refreshingly refreshing take on lemon. When released, this awesome drink has only one goal: to blow your mind" to be honest I found it rather bland. There is an individual tv screen for every passenger with 8 channels to choose from which on a domestic hour long flight isn't too shabby (allbeit hindu language programming). Just before take off we were treated to a safety demonstration video that I felt dirty watching in public. The kingfisher hostess pouted throughout and looked into the camera over the oxygen mask giving sultry bedroom eyes even though the bag did not inflate. She indicated to the exits and accentuated her bosom,pointing out that your nearest exit may be behind you. A slow, exagerated bend to point to the lights at floor level to guide you made tantalising viewing. I don't think there was any man on the flight not paying attention as she put her lips to the tube to top up her life vest. I realise that that whole commentary probably made me sound like a bit of a pervert, but I implore you to go to india, fly kingfisher airlines and tell me that what I saw was not meant to be pornographic. Come on, it's a beer company for chrissakes!
Even the pilots are well trained too, they were among the few domestic airlines able to land in the dense Dehli fog that was causing a lot of disruption. Countless flights were delayed or cancelled and 46 trains had been drawn to a halt. I was lucky to get away.
At this point I would love to rant about how bollocks british airways have become, I won't bore you with it. I missed the London to Edinburgh flight by minutes. So I'm currently in Fulham with my sister, which makes the situation ok, although I had to wait an hour to get my luggage.

Varanasi to Kolkata

2010-01-21T04:43:00.000-08:00

Delhi has been held to ransom by fog. Indian railways are among the most dangerous at the best of times (due to the amount of accidents they have here, 2 of which during my stay apparently on the same line I traveled). All surface and air transport has been delayed or canceled to and from Delhi. Including the train that was meant to take me from Varanasi to Kolkata.
(Useful) Public service announcements aren't an indian specialty so to find out the status of a canceled train you have to rely on rumors from anyone who speaks English on a train platform. Then you have to cancel your ticket and get a sort of "anything goes" ticket from another room in another hall. Then you have to grab supplies from a stall (biscuits and crisps) and bolt it to the train platform. The train classes:
1a.c. (single tier beds (i say beds I mean shelves), air conditioned) for the upper class
2a.c. (2 tier beds, air conditioned) for the middle class and anyone who has struck a deal with a travel agent (me)
3a.c. (3 tier beds, air conditioned) hard core backpackers and cheap skates (should be me)
sleeper (shelves, lots of them, everywhere) locals
general class (park benches, everywhere) god be with you

Turned out these magic tickets are for general class. Which they ALWAYS (especially when the trains are being canceled) over book. I spent 12hrs of the 14hr train journey on the floor of the vestibule until a train conductor kicked me to point out that a sleeper shelf was free. It was a bit tramp-like I admit but for 2quid, bargain!

Here endeth the giant update (read the posts below). That pretty much gets everything up to speed. Currently in Kolkata, a brilliantly characterful city. You can tell the British have been and gone, and memory of their occupation has been left to rot. It's a bit like a cross between hanoi, cuba, london and dehli.

Varanasi

2010-01-21T04:09:00.000-08:00

Pretty much a one stop shop for all hindus. On the banks of the ganges steps lead down (called ghats) along it's length to the river that is often described as the "life-giver".
It's a fantastic place to observe culture in it's most raw form. I took a boat at dawn to watch people make early morning offerings to the river and another in the evening to see the religious ganga aarti ceremony (lots of waving fire around and singing hindu prayers.) .
Photos are almost welcomed at most ghats but are strictly prohibited at the burning ghats. These are where the cremations take place. Barges of wood line up at the banks and traders use huge scales to weigh out the exact amount of wood required to completely incenerate a corpse. Sandel wood is most expensive but eliminates the otherwise unpleasant smell. Bodies are brought down swathed in saffron coloured cloth covered in rose petals carried by the singing funeral procession.
400 bodies are burnt here every day. 24hrs a day 7 days a week. The steps at this ghat are long buried under a pile of ash.
On a lighter note there are lots of comical holy men along the river, one of which was completely naked, covered in chalk. On the end of his penis he had a bell, and he would jump up and waggle himself to make it ring for passers by, something to do with good karma. The touts are virulent here but are easy to shake off using quickly uttered advanced english. Flower "offerings" are the popular sell, you light them on fire then dunk them in the river, "10rupees, give you good karma", hear that vishnu? good karma - only 10 rupees. Some of the child sellers are particularly clued up on the current rate of exchange, "a pound is 70rupee, this is only 10"
"and how's ftse and the dow jones doing?"
Some touts come up to you and shake your hand then start doing reflexology on your hand to convince you to go for a head and shoulders massage at their mat by the river. I was so drained by the touts I thought I might give it a go, and at 20rupee what could go wrong? Well, i wouldn't call it relaxing as far as massages go. In fact lying there with my head pushed against a straw mat and my arm bent into a position I didn't know was possible it didn't feel so much like traditional ayurvedic massage and more like police brutality. I felt like I was in one of those cop shows on itv2 late at night when they have nothing better to show, the only thing missing was tear gas and a tazer.
Dining was a fulfilling experience, the brown bread bakery did an amazing all day english breakfast, with "baked beans" (kidney beans in a osort of tikka-esque tomato sauce) and profits went to the nearby school (which was on holiday when I visited). Then in another little eatery I met some americans amidst live sitar playing, who had a fantastic taste in music and taught me the hindu word for thank you which is "dunderbar" which sounds a bit like a high energy health snack if you say it in a gruff cinema trailer-type accent: THUNDERBAR!

Dehli to Varanasi

2010-01-21T03:52:00.000-08:00

Arrived in Dehli and got straight in a taxi to the domestic airport. This is where some of the best observations of Indian queuing behaviour are made. No matter how minor the request they are always in a hurry and have to be first. If the conventional one person behind the other queuing begins, new additions to the line will go around the outside to the front (this is also true on roads). In conventional queues, personal space is to be ignored, to assert his/her place in line you must almost be inside the person in front. I had two men behind me, pushing me against the check in counter. At the point where new-friend-on-the-left rested his chin on my shoulder I felt I should say something, "in a hurry?" I smiled. He smiled and new-friend-on-the-right shuffled closer, if I was an expert of the male fragrance scene I have no doubt I would have been able to identify his aftershave. They'd both shared a chicken biryani for breakfast.
Once in the terminal the obligatory delays began, no big deal, there was a piano playing itself (oh yes) in the terminal. Although it created quite the counterpart to the christmas carols (in mid january*) still playing over the tannoy when there were no announcements being made.
On the subject of announcements, there is an almost constant commentary, on the status of every flight. In the 4 hours I was at the terminal I only heard 3 verses of "oh come all ye faithful" and a full run through of "silent night.
Varanasi was by comparison a very small airport, one room to be precise and a baggage belt that wasn't looped, thus creating a mountain of baggage that rivalled BA's at terminal 5 (oh yes he did).

*not the only people getting in bad karma for delayed festive celebrations; I passed a shop sign that had a depiction of santa with a gun pointing at him, not sure what it sold.

Jodhpur

2010-01-21T03:20:00.000-08:00

Arrived in Jodhpur in the evening and barged through the touts to find a hotel. The previous day I had made a few calls to see if I could get a reservation, but no such luck: "Hello is this xyz hotel?" I enquired.
"Yes" said an impatient indian voice on the other end
"Do you have a room available for tommorow night?"
"no"
"any suggestions?" He gave me a number for another hotel,"and is it as nice as yours?"
"yes"
"sure about that?" I joked.
"No. goodbye sir." at which point he hung up.
My search ended with me giving up and settling for a grotty place with an extraordinarily wild colour scheme equal to that of my trainers, who felt just at home, and so did I...so long as I didn't touch the sheets.
The next morning I ventured up to the mighty jodhpur fort. Even more imposing than the last, scarred by canon fire, this one earned it's strategic postion. No mini city in here, pure unadulterated lavishness for royalty long gone. As you approach the edge of the top of the fort you could here the sounds of the city and voices rush up with the air currents from the blue city. Most of the houses are painted blue to keep them cool which also acts as an insect repellent. Little fact there for you, write that down. I threw caution to the wind and went for the audio tour as Glen said it was a good one, which it was, but I still looked like an early 90s raver and was a little bit gutted I hadn't packed my glosticks. After I went to Jasawant Thada, a tomby place with fort views and a courtyard filled with birdsong, a good spot to swat up with the guide book and then head down for a cold sweet lassi (a yoghurty drink like thing that isn't as good for you as an actimel but tastes a lot better) and a run around the spice stalls.
I jumped on another train in the evening to head back to delhi to catch a flight to varanasi (long way round). The train journey was pretty uneventful. Apart from the moment I woke up to see a cockroach scurry up the wall inches from my face, it was only small so I figured what the hell and went back to sleep.

Jaisalmer

2010-01-15T21:55:00.000-08:00

Spent the day before yesterday wandering around the fort, it's pretty huge and great fun to get lost inside. It's not a stately palace like the other ones, it's more of a minature city with shops, homes, restaurants, and hotels. Walking through the cramp little passageways lots of friendly people say hello and it becomes quite a comically happy place, oh look, there's a dead rat next to an open sewer! So evidently the fort has some crowding and sewer problems but its a gold mine of ancient little buildings and if you get lost enough and go up random little stairways eventually you find a canon with a fantastic view over Jaisalmer and beyond into the desert. In the evening I found a quaint little restaurant with some traditional musicians and everyone sat on the floor. I'll blog about food and toilets later though.

Yesterday took a jeep into the desert to some camel fellas. On this jeep I found a new friend, Glen. Glen was from SF CA so the inevitable Obama chat had with every American ensued. Glen and I not only shared positive views of the charismatic leader but we also both have a thing for off the beaten track travelling. I have some excellent ideas for my next trip. We met our camels and went for a ride. A typical conversation with a camel:
"Hello, Mr Camel. How are you today?"
The camel will reply with a grunt and then proceed to gargle ruminant. Charming.
After enjoying some indian music and dancers (who looked like they were becoming rather dizzy) we jumped in a jeep to our camp. We drove a long tarmac for a little while then at a randomly chosen moment swerved off road until we saw a little light in the distance. Camp was brilliantly basic. It started as a kid, who was looking after his camel, asleep on the sand illumiated by a gas light. We pitched a tent and I went for a little night time desert wander to have a look at the stars (of which there are many as you know but a lot more were visible due to a lack of light pollution.) When I turned round to head back, the gas light had gone out. Using the best tracking technique I could muster from watching Ray Mears I found our tent eventually.
This morning I woke up with an achy camel bruised bottom and munched on toast and bananas while watching the camel chomp it's way through a sack of grain, or alfalfa as Glen informed me. The jeep then took us back to Jaisalmer, which emerges out of the desert, blink and you miss it.

Today I venture onward from this joyful desert city to Jodhpur. Catching another train this evening and leaving this internet rich oasis. ttfn.

Trains

2010-01-14T06:02:00.000-08:00

I was the only white foreigner int he station. The Indians are good at staring. I met their cold gaze with a cheesey grin which seemed to lighten the mood. A few hours later I hopped on the train, it was pretty cramped but at 2am so long as you're hugging your backpack to keep it safe you fall asleep. The next morning we trailed through desert as I sat with my legs dangling out of the train carriage door as it moved at walking pace closer to it's destination.
Arrived in Jaisalmer this afternoon, its a majestic desert city with a fort growing from a hill nearby. The fort is a series of cramped passageways and the whole structure is said to be sinking slowly into the ground.

Jaipur

2010-01-14T05:26:00.000-08:00

We arrived in Jaipur at sunset, the orange sky was filled with kites and the rooftops were filled with sillouhettes of children playing with them. It was like a scene from the film (and indeed the book) "The kite runner".
The next morning we set off again, we passed straight through Jaipur to Amber to Amer fort. Another Fort but this one was on a hilltop, a short elephant ride took you to the top. I walked however, not just because of the outrageous price (and given the current fiscal situation on this trip) but also because I'm not sure I agree with the captivity of elephants (with chains and big sticks to hit them with) just so a tourist can sit on it as it goes up and down a hill all day. Once at the top I had no choice but to follow the crowds past the ticket office and then be offered an audio tour (no thanks). So i wandered around the sunny hill top stronghold and then I came across a stairway, it was pitch black but there weren't any restricted access signs or ropes, with a quick shifty glance i went up them, and spent a fantastic couple of hours wandering around unseen (yet wonderfully ornate) corridors and rooms, spying on the rest of the flock from above from holes in the passage wall. After a few blissful hours of regression I headed back down the hill, on the way I passed a man with a keyring that read "Spening the kids' inheritance" damn right. I hope that after my parents have finished their respective midlife crisis retire they take all the money they have and go around the world, then buy a ferrari (might be pushing it somewhat) and drive it into a swimming pool. Then, still soaking, lounge poolside while quaffing champagne and chortling whole heartedly.
Anyway, I digress, next to the monkey temple at Galta. A complex of ruins and temples inhabited by rabid monkeys. I snapped on the zoom lens and made like the BBC "life" team. (Photos to follow, sadly internet cafes don't supply .raw processors.) There were also a few "holy monkey men" who would lead you to a broom closet filled with hindu deities (mainly on postcards and alarm clocks), illuminated by a low watt energy saving lightbulb and some fairy lights. They would switch them on and off a few times in sequence as a light show then name the gods while pointing at them with a peacock feather. It felt very sacred indeed. Then they would ask for a donation, they forbid shoes in the closet so you have to give them a few coins to get them back. You don't make that mistake twice. We headed back to the hotel as the sunset, hitting a dog on the way.
That evening, I played a game of cards with a few rickshaw drivers in the drivers' lodgings at the hotel, whilst drinking "whisky deluxe" a blend of scotch malts and indian spirits. at 42% it was probably meant to fuel auto rickshaws.

Most hotels here are pretty basic, I'm glad I bought a sleeping bag when I arrived (british airways will pay for that one thank you very much). The toilets are a game of russian roullette with the age old dictum "western or squatter?". Bring your own tp as sometimes only a hose and your left hand is supplied (i have toilet paper, do not fear, readers) and showers occaisionally turn out to be a tap a bucket and a jug. Needless to say if you were staying at the hyatt you would get a bit of luxury but due to my only source of fiscal stimulus snapping in twain, I'm sticking to the cultural option.

My last day in Jaipur a rickshaw driver offered to take me to "elephant house", wanting to know how the elephants from the previous day were treated I went along. They are truly majestic creatures ( they are chained up and you can see the marks where the chains and ropes rub. They should be in the wild eating shrubs. It's a sad sight, having said that I'm sure there are elephants in captivity worse off than these. I spent the last few hours in jaipur on top of the old city walls with a cold drink watching the kites. It was a fitting end to my days in Jaipur.

Taj

2010-01-13T00:39:00.000-08:00

One of the wonders of the world the Taj Mahal is a pretty impressive structure. Foreigners pay almost Edinburgh Castle entry fee but how can you put a price on a once in a lifetime sight, allbeit a little chilly and foggy (it's winter here, who knew?).
Once past the security checks and the relaxed looking fellas with the ak47s you go through a few gates and courtyards before your first glimpse of the massive marble masterpiece (alliteration, see?)
Whipping out the camera I struggle to get it straight in the frame, then I remembered that the minarets flanking the taj tilt outwards so in case of an earthquake they'd fall away from the precious centre. You walk closer, more cliched photos are taken, Korean tourists get more and more hyper and then you get there, you go inside and it's just a giant office block. Yes that's right the taj mahal is just the head office of India's largest bank.
I jest, it's pretty dark and there are a few graves. The emperor's (second) wife dies (I feel sorry for the first), emperor v. upset builds taj, simples.
After seeing the Taj we headed for Jaipur, we stopped off at Fatepur Sikrih on the way (fort). It would be amazing to go back in time to when these structures were actually used as palaces. This Indian man showed me a chandelier saying, "This lamp was gifted by the British"
"You're welcome" I quipped (wry smile filled with arrogance, rather witty I thought though) Needless to say he didn't get it.

So... where were we?

2010-01-13T00:25:00.001-08:00

My last day in Dehli was one filled with sight seeing. Still a bit knocked from my string of bad luck it was a bit tricky to get the confidence to whip out the juggernaut camera amidst the touts and the beggars. I enjoyed a ride in a taxi driven by a 12 year old (I asked his age, but i figured judging by the cracks in the windscreen he'd done it before so I thought why not) and figured out some golden india road rules:

1. Taxi's forego the "go-faster" stripes in lieu of religious trinkets, fur, and bhang (look that up). I'm sure i saw something moving in that box on the dash.

2. Don't be fooled by the appearance of the luxury velure, by the end of the trip you could count the seat springs by looking at the indentations in my arse.

3. A turban and a welding mask are acceptable motorcycle safety equipment.

4. ANY vehicle can be powered by a motorbike engine.

5. Honk, the more you do so the more likely people are to give way. It is common place to see cows, horse and camel drawn carts on the motorway, they never have right of way.
On the day I was due to leave Dehli we were delayed by the long awaited arrival of my baggage, so we set off for the 4hr drive (through fog) after dark. Indian motorists have an instinct for the road, myy driver (Vinod) was no exception. We weaved in and out of traffic at speeds that well exceeded the UK limit, it was like a Bourne film chase. It was going so well until we got a flat tire. Vinod got out and fixed it while I took some night shots of the road. We got back in the car, and needless to say the relationship was a tad strained. We arrived in Agra late at night, checked into a grotty hotel, thank god I bought a sleeping bag.

It's suddenly all got a bit Bear Grylls here.

2010-01-09T06:20:00.000-08:00

I was standing in the immigration queue at Dehli aiport when suddenly I heard my name mispronounced over the tannoy. At the help desk I was informed that due to my expedition through terminal 5 BA had lost my luggage. So all I had was a bank card, a camera, a mobile phone (complete with a dead battery) and the clothes on my back. Not even an immodium tablet (huge problem) and 11kg worth of missing shit. They didn't seem too concerned so off I trotted, what an adventure, soon I'll be making fires with twigs, eating beatles, and squeezing the moisture out of faeces! (Bear Grylls actually does this.)
Things did get worse however. Cutting a long story rather short, my bank card developed a serious series of cracks, it is being held together by tape. Luckily the chip still works so I was able to make a few chip+pin transactions (I know how very 21st century) so at the very least transport is all booked until my return flight home (not as impulsive as originally planned but due to Indian fog trains are becomming difficult to book). So anyway that's the situation. It's pretty grim thus far. But a lovely confucius saying was quoted to me today:
By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection which is the noblest. Second by imitation, which is easiest. Third, by experience, which is the bitterest.
So there you go. Write that down and give the boy (confucius) a biscuit (what a clever fello).

It would be easier to pack if I were a cub scout...

2010-01-06T10:54:00.000-08:00

...but I'm not. I'm torn between packing what I should be (t-shirts, sun cream, toothbrush) and procrastinating by deciding what music to put on the mp3 player for the trip.

The trip is to India. Just me and a camera. Other than flights, visa, and (as of 5 minutes ago) travel insurance nothing else is booked, everything is spur of the moment, snap decisions will be made and adventures will be had. I will be flying into Delhi and out of Kolkata a few weeks later.
The blog will be updated for friends and family to check up on whenever I can get to an internet cafe and then it'll be padded out with photos upon my return.

So back to packing and I can't help but smirk at my mother's face as I throw a sleeping bag into the pack, "You're not camping are you?!"
"Just in case" is my reply.
Bless, I think sometimes she thinks I do these things to get high scores in hypertension.

I rip the tag off my backpack and as the label comes away I notice a piece of reassuring information. Thank jeezy creezy it has wand pockets, I don't know what I would do without my wands. Call me a camping novice but I don't think I need a wand pocket but I'm happy that if I ever were to become a ambling wizard or magician and had to perform some sort of sorcery in an emergency I would be chuffed that my wands were not only safe and sound but easily accessible. Instead I shall use this compartment for glow sticks, you never know when you need to have a rave, I hear when DJs get hold of Bhangra the result can be pretty potent indeed. It's also hydration compatible, I think that's where I'll stick the straw from my bacardi breezer.

I've had a rather infuriating few days with pharmacists. So as usual the Scots (mainly on the west coast I might add) complain about being eaten alive by flying bastards but at least when they chow on your flesh they don't spew malaria in their mossie mucus unlike the asian fellas. Drug companies obviously have seen the potential in this and so have presented their profilactic offerings along with a hefty list of unsavoury side effects including nausea, sunburns, and of course that one that makes you go loopy. So the best one is malarone, and at £3 a tablet let's hope so. Firstly you need to get a prescription from your favorite family doctor, this is tricky as apparently illness takes bank holidays over the festive period and so do GPs. You could alternatively call a travel health clinic but they want you to go and see them for a consultation so they can hand you a hefty bill and good luck getting to one in a snow-clad Edinburgh during the holidays. There is a third option, text everyone on your sim card until you find a friend of a friend who has a GMC registered signature. That is only the start, turns out no one stocks malaria during January, as people would rather wait until it's warmer before they go on holiday. I asked boots to order it twice and on both occaisions my prescription was "set aside and forgotton about". In the end you have to take what they have and hope the winged beasties will dislike the anti-pest jungle juice you cover yourself with after the flight.
It's annoying that in these technological times where information can be beamed across the world in an instant impulse is dead, everything is very complicated now.
Oh well. I continue packing and dream of sunny lands. Whilst most of you will be stressing over exams in the UK's longest cold snap for 30 years. Enjoy that.