Our trip to Delhi was a morning trip and we arrived in Old Delhi at around 4pm. Our Hotel was beside New Delhi station. Sounds easy, we will get the metro underground. We thought it would be as easy as a simple day in London, down some steps, get tickets/swipe card and travel on the different colour lines. Not so much. In the wake of the Mumbai bombs all the security in the major cities increased dramatically so you were now unable to just stroll through. There were about 1000 people in a queue to get through security. We didn’t have any tickets or swipe cards and the thought of waiting then getting 2 bags searched put us off thinking about it. So we went outside and got a cycle rickshaw. Both of us, two backpacks and a little thin man with a carriage and a bike. At a few points, even in my weary state I felt like taking over for the guy. It was about 4km in distance, and through rammed streets of Delhi and taking two people plus luggage was not in this man’s comfort zone.
We got this man to leave us to New Delhi station as our hotel’s instructions informed us that it was a 7 minute walk. It would have been, that is if we had got off at the other side of New Delhi station. Giant. We were at the wrong side, we had to walk through it or walked around the outside (like walking around a small town) and with the security increases it was once again going to be difficult. That is unless you’re sneaky. We waited for one of the guards to get distracted and then quickly walk up the steps before you get directed away. It was close, and a few other people did it also, but it should be noted, for such a dramatic increase in security, it certainly had its holes.
Once we got across the station, and out the other side, we made our way to Pahar Ganj and followed our instructions whilst asking people along the steps if we were going the right direction. Eventually we found it, decided that we would take our bags to the room, get washed up and go to one of the Nepali restaurants to get momo’s. That we did, good thing as well, the more time we spent outside the room, the better. Matchbox city, on the 4th floor. It wasn’t worth climbing all those steps to get to that room.
I decided against Momo’s. I wanted soup. Tomato soup. It was made out of ketchup I’m sure, was not impressed by that I can tell you. Tasted like ketchup, boiling water, blended and with a little dollop of cream and some burnt toast. Not cool and it wasn’t a wonder why I had decided to eat packaged food on quite a lot of this trip. We spent some time in this tourist area, filled with multinational tourists then retired for the night. Next morning we basically got up, went for breakfast and went to the train station for our next destination Agra, the home to the Taj Mahal.
Another daytime train. This one passed off relatively easily although near the end of the journey, a lot of village families jumped on, with no reservations and tried to make us move up seat or give them space. We knew enough to tell them to go away. An Indian guy also explained to them, unless they had a reservation for the booth, which they couldn’t have (the 6 seats were filled) then they weren’t getting in.
It wasn’t much longer that we were at Agra Cannt station, taxi to Taj Ganj area. It was full of budget accommodation, close to the Taj and a few were recommended by the Lonely Planet guide with views from the roof, one of which was Hotel Kamal. For £7 a night, between both of us, this place was a steal. Large enough room with fan and then the view from the rooftop. Brilliant. Having breakfast with the Taj in the background was awesome. There was a rush for the table closest for unspoiled views. There was a Muslim festival on across the street on the first night. Toni found it quite frightening. It lasted into the small hours but eventually we got to sleep.
In Agra the people are renowned for hassling tourists, and they did live up to their reputation. We renamed it Agro. One guy was trying to offer us a cheap room and when we told him ‘no’ he tried the “think of the poor children” routine. We just ignored and walked on where we would be hassled by a small boy to buy Taj Mahal snow globes. HA! It was about 40 degrees, I doubt the Taj has ever seen snow but this was the crap they were selling to tourists. Not this one that’s for sure.
The Taj lived up to the hype. It was a beautiful structure, awesome to stare at, but we should have got shoe protectors instead of taking them off. The marble was roasting hot and not good for our delicate feet. We must have looked funny jumping and skipping along to get away from the hot ground. We spent about 2 hours at the Taj. We would have spent more but when we went outside to get some water and tried to come back in they wouldn’t let me back in with my laptop in my bag, after the other security guard let me through with it. The only thing I have found India to be consistent in, is inconsistency. At this stage I was done with the pleasantries because it was rare that we would be on the receiving end of it, we were just walking wallets to most of them in my opinion.
We checked out of the hotel but were able to leave our bags there and wandered around for the day. We got our luggage then went to Yash café, a nice place that let us shower as well then we got an auto rickshaw to the station. I enjoy cycle rickshaws but at night I figured it’d be difficult to see on the road. Our train was at 12.30 and was only 15 minutes late which is very good by Indian standards, although it was 13 hour long so it didn’t really matter. We got on, got our bags up on our beds then eventually got ready to try an get some sleep, which I am surprised we did. I think it was because there was only 6 stops so we didn’t have the disruption of people getting on and trying to find their seats.
Eventually we arrived on Varanasi, the oldest city in the world that has been constantly inhabited, some 6000 years although most of the buildings are only 300 years old at most because of lootings by many different factions over the years. It was our anniversary the day we would go to Nepal, and since we had done so well we decided to splash out a little. We went to Hotel Alka, a very popular hotel for tourists and we got the most expensive room. It was a large room with TV, freezing cold AC, two fans and a balcony overlooking the Ganges River, the main reason that this was on the itinerary. It was definitely worth the money, and it was nice not to eat with the commoners ;) ordering room service and eating on the balcony away from them all. We did over indulge a little but we didn’t care, we deserved it.
We spent nearly half a day trying to find an ATM that would work for us. We knew Bank of Baroda worked but the one we found was out of order. Bank of India wouldn’t take our MasterCard’s. Eventually we found Punjabi Bank and it worked. IT was tiring. Constantly hassled, maybe 37 degrees in the middle of the day, trying to navigate very busy roads and the dust, it all takes it out of you; so it was back to the hotel room to hide under the AC an order room service again.
The next morning we took a 5am boat ride up and down the Ganges lasting around an hour. We were able to see loads of people bathing and performing Puja (prayers), a lot of people dressed in Orange (I hear it’s that time of the year here too ha) for the Shiva festival and a few burning Ghats. This is very some people decide to get cremated, in an open air bonfire, so we had seen maybe four dead bodies burning at the side of the river. It was quite interesting to see. I do have one concern over the boat rides though. Should it really be a tourist attraction? Riding up and down a river watching people get cremated, pray and bathe? It just doesn’t seem right, although the Lonely Planet guide wants you to do it at sunrise and sunset.
We spent two nights in Varanasi, both really enjoyable. This was basically the last time we would be in an Indian Hotel and we tried to work out what we did the last month, discussing trying to sum up our trip so far. We weren’t finished just yet though. We still had a 6 hour sleeper train to get, and a 2-3 hour bus to the border and a border crossing to go through before we would finally be in Nepal; which we knew we would have our own troubles having to get a 9-10 hour bus from the border to Kathmandu where we would stay for 3 months. Il leave the border crossing and the beginning of Nepal to the next blog. It seems fitting to leave the blog in the niceties of room service and A.C because it has been through so much already.
Hope you readers have enjoyed my accounts of India. In Nepal Toni and I will be teaching English at Pathshala School for 3 months, based in Patan and New Baneshwor in Kathmandu. Neither of us have taught English before, should be an interesting read.
Thursday 28 July 2011
Monday 25 July 2011
Jodhpur Jaipur recovery
Finally we arrived in Rajasthan. All the plans had come together and although a little weary getting off the train, we decided to walk to our guesthouse –Durag Niwas Guest House. We used a map from the lonely planet guide to find it but it was more difficult than we anticipated. We kept trying and the hardest part was that rickshaw drivers knew where it was but wouldn’t give you directions unless they were taking you there, in which case, the directions are kind of pointless. Eventually we asked a few people who were not trying to take our money and they gave us general directions and we found it. It was a lovely blue house, including a courtyard with seats; nicely decorated with a combination of family photos and Rajasthani furniture. Immediately they made us feel welcome. Instructed us not to check in but got us our room and told us to take rest. We had told them how far we had come and they tried everything to make us feel better. Brought water and coffee to our room and gave us 10% discount on our 3 night stay. Eventually after we had rested up we ordered some food and began talking to the guesthouse owner Govind. He gave us lots of information, including maps, hints travel tips and basically explained he would try to do everything to make us feel welcome.
That day we ventured out, up towards the clock tower. We walked down the main road, turned up at a stadium and continued walking until we thought we were in the right streets. Narrow, with shops on either side, selling everything from jewelry to Indian clothes, electronics to samosas. We walked one way, camels and horses walked the other. Eventually we found the clock tower, a longer walk than anticipated and we walked through to this market area. Crap. Bombarded was not the word for it. There were more foreign tourists in this area. Every one of them including ourselves was getting hassled, or sold some story that their father owns a spice shop “but no buying, you only have to look.” That is, until they get you in there, give you the hard sell and try everything they can to get you walking away with 45 bags of tea that you can’t make, 12 bags of chicken tikka masala flavouring and 4 bottles of opium flower perfume, that you wouldn’t risk crossing and international border with. I don’t drink tea, try explaining that to the people here. Oh it is not tea, its good for your health, as one guy hands me a small cup with sticks and seeds in it. I knew it was cinnamon and cardamom, but that’s what it looked like and I wanted none of it.
You can’t understand unless you have been to this country and experienced a city like Jodhpur how noisy it is. It’s relentless. There is very little escape here, for example, even when you try to get to sleep, you still have to have a fan on or and air cooler because of the 42 degree heat; and that’s the quietest it’ll get.
After feeling like my health was going downhill quite quickly, maybe exhaustion, the heat or combination of a lot of factors it was time to make it back to the guesthouse for some soup, toast, water and sleep and that’s exactly what I got. I would highly recommend anybody going to Jodhpur to stay at Durag Niwas. Cheaper than most, available to book online, contactable by email and can organise everything from massages to overnight camel safari’s.
The must see thing in Jodhpur is the Meherangarh fort, set on top of a large cliff face, overlooking the blue city. The houses in the old city were originally painted blue because indigo dye was readily available and it was suggested that the colour didn’t attract the sunlight or insects. How true, I’m not sure. This was a brilliant fort, with great views and a museum inside showing you grande rooms that Rajasthani Rulers used, their sleeping quarters, the elephant carriages made of silver and gold called howdahs and weapons and armour used during wars. We spent most of the day here, just wandering around taking time to appreciate the views and take pictures.
Toni could feel the beginnings of a cold or flu coming on, not good in this climate. It’s hard enough to keep your energy levels up never mind having a virus beginning to zap you at the same. We decided to go visit a few emporiums, filled with lots of furniture, artworks, sheesh pipes made of pure silver (out of my budget lol) but it was good to see some of the pieces. In 43 degree heat, it wasn’t long before we were making tracks back to the hotel to rest up and get showered etc then it was off to Jaipur.
Auto rickshaw to train station this time, no walking. Made it there with a bit of time to spare then half our train came. Yes half. Its bad enough that everything is so confusing at the train station, but when you’re still waiting for half a train, it’s very difficult to comprehend, and asking people only confuses matters because sometimes, they’re in the same boat. Eventually the other half came, they attached it on and everybody started boarding.
On we got to the dustiest, mankiest train, and that’s saying something by India’s sleeper class standards. Had to wipe down both our beds with a pair of socks. That was the end of them; they got thrown out the window the minute we got underway. This was the worst train we had been on so far, and at 5 hours long it was just a night mare from start to finish and not what we needed with Toni feeling ill.
Rickshaw at 5 in the morning to our hotel even if it was only a few minutes away by walking then we rang the doorbell. Felt bad that we called so early; but I heard good things about the guesthouse and we were in bad nick. Old woman answered the door and invited us in, then immediately Raman, the guy who runs the place came out welcoming us to our home. Got all the necessary paper work signed then it was bed time.
Not much to say about Jaipur, spent 3 days there and didn’t see much of it at all. With Toni feeling under the weather and trying to get her back to full health for the rest of the trip it was a good idea to rest up as well, saying that we had Delhi, Agra and Varanasi plus a border crossing all within a week. I thought this was the beginning of the best part of the trip (maybe bar Hampi).
This blog is a little shorter im sure most of you will be glad to heat. Photo's will go up when I get them off the camera
Peace x
That day we ventured out, up towards the clock tower. We walked down the main road, turned up at a stadium and continued walking until we thought we were in the right streets. Narrow, with shops on either side, selling everything from jewelry to Indian clothes, electronics to samosas. We walked one way, camels and horses walked the other. Eventually we found the clock tower, a longer walk than anticipated and we walked through to this market area. Crap. Bombarded was not the word for it. There were more foreign tourists in this area. Every one of them including ourselves was getting hassled, or sold some story that their father owns a spice shop “but no buying, you only have to look.” That is, until they get you in there, give you the hard sell and try everything they can to get you walking away with 45 bags of tea that you can’t make, 12 bags of chicken tikka masala flavouring and 4 bottles of opium flower perfume, that you wouldn’t risk crossing and international border with. I don’t drink tea, try explaining that to the people here. Oh it is not tea, its good for your health, as one guy hands me a small cup with sticks and seeds in it. I knew it was cinnamon and cardamom, but that’s what it looked like and I wanted none of it.
You can’t understand unless you have been to this country and experienced a city like Jodhpur how noisy it is. It’s relentless. There is very little escape here, for example, even when you try to get to sleep, you still have to have a fan on or and air cooler because of the 42 degree heat; and that’s the quietest it’ll get.
After feeling like my health was going downhill quite quickly, maybe exhaustion, the heat or combination of a lot of factors it was time to make it back to the guesthouse for some soup, toast, water and sleep and that’s exactly what I got. I would highly recommend anybody going to Jodhpur to stay at Durag Niwas. Cheaper than most, available to book online, contactable by email and can organise everything from massages to overnight camel safari’s.
The must see thing in Jodhpur is the Meherangarh fort, set on top of a large cliff face, overlooking the blue city. The houses in the old city were originally painted blue because indigo dye was readily available and it was suggested that the colour didn’t attract the sunlight or insects. How true, I’m not sure. This was a brilliant fort, with great views and a museum inside showing you grande rooms that Rajasthani Rulers used, their sleeping quarters, the elephant carriages made of silver and gold called howdahs and weapons and armour used during wars. We spent most of the day here, just wandering around taking time to appreciate the views and take pictures.
Toni could feel the beginnings of a cold or flu coming on, not good in this climate. It’s hard enough to keep your energy levels up never mind having a virus beginning to zap you at the same. We decided to go visit a few emporiums, filled with lots of furniture, artworks, sheesh pipes made of pure silver (out of my budget lol) but it was good to see some of the pieces. In 43 degree heat, it wasn’t long before we were making tracks back to the hotel to rest up and get showered etc then it was off to Jaipur.
Auto rickshaw to train station this time, no walking. Made it there with a bit of time to spare then half our train came. Yes half. Its bad enough that everything is so confusing at the train station, but when you’re still waiting for half a train, it’s very difficult to comprehend, and asking people only confuses matters because sometimes, they’re in the same boat. Eventually the other half came, they attached it on and everybody started boarding.
On we got to the dustiest, mankiest train, and that’s saying something by India’s sleeper class standards. Had to wipe down both our beds with a pair of socks. That was the end of them; they got thrown out the window the minute we got underway. This was the worst train we had been on so far, and at 5 hours long it was just a night mare from start to finish and not what we needed with Toni feeling ill.
Rickshaw at 5 in the morning to our hotel even if it was only a few minutes away by walking then we rang the doorbell. Felt bad that we called so early; but I heard good things about the guesthouse and we were in bad nick. Old woman answered the door and invited us in, then immediately Raman, the guy who runs the place came out welcoming us to our home. Got all the necessary paper work signed then it was bed time.
Not much to say about Jaipur, spent 3 days there and didn’t see much of it at all. With Toni feeling under the weather and trying to get her back to full health for the rest of the trip it was a good idea to rest up as well, saying that we had Delhi, Agra and Varanasi plus a border crossing all within a week. I thought this was the beginning of the best part of the trip (maybe bar Hampi).
This blog is a little shorter im sure most of you will be glad to heat. Photo's will go up when I get them off the camera
Peace x
Friday 15 July 2011
Goa-Hampi and trains to Jodhpur
After a half a night’s sleep, it was up, get some water and off to the train station in Margao to catch a 7 hour train to Hospet, from which we would get a tuk tuk to Hampi. The train ride was interesting. Toni decided that she needed more sleep so up on the upper berth she went. I stayed down, basically gazing out the window for hours on end. Surrounded by Indian men, asking my nationality, profession, where I was going, and how long I was staying in India for was something I was used to this stage. It’s their way of making conversation where as I see it as being a little intrusive but that’s the way things work here so…you just roll with it. They did offer to buy me food, samosa’s, rice, peanuts but I had been warned about buying any train food, and I have experienced Delhi Belly before and it wasn’t something I wanted a big repeat of, especially spending so much time on the train in those toilets. Basically it’s a hole in the ground, with a tube to underneath the train, no, not a storage container, the railway tracks.
The scenery changed constantly as we made our way across Goa, and into Karnataka. From the tropical jungle landscape with meandering rivers, to the Dudhsagar Falls, India’s second highest water fall about ten metres away from the train, close enough to get sprayed, then it was just barren land from 100’s of kilometres until we neared towards Hospet. The guys on the train ensured we got off at the right stop. I don’t know how they know where they are, some stations don’t have signs, and at night I’ve seen one guy jump off the train in a pitch dark area, whilst it was moving quite quickly.
Outside Hospet train station we got a tuk tuk; funny moped that carries more than 3 people, sometimes 7 if people don’t mind the squeeze, to Hampi. We decided that we would risk staying in Hampi even though our train back to Goa two days later would involve a 4:30am wake up. As we got closer and closer to Hampi we started to realise what all the fuss was about. Old ruins, and giant boulders the size of houses, balanced precariously on top of others, with no logical explanation to how they got there. It was no wonder most of them are Natural Heritage sights. Photos can’t begin to describe what Hampi is like. The only words I can use are: It’s like a cross between the Jungle Book and the Flintstones set in amongst ancient ruins from a 500 year old fallen Indian Empire spread over about 35km.
After a little walk and some food we decided that we would hire a guy in a tuk tuk to take us round all of Hampi visiting the temples/ruins and step wells the next day; good idea if walking 35km is not on your to do list. It was a good shout, we seen all of Hampi, seen all the ruins temples and boulder structures, some crazy monkeys and some weird ‘holy’ men, not bad for a day’s trip. We even managed to convince the tuk tuk driver to collect us at 5am the next morning to take us to the train station and sure as hell he was there the next morning just before 5. Hampi is just a magical place and I have no doubt that it will be one of India’s highlights on this trip even if it would take us two days on trains to get to our next destination.
2 days on trains. WTF were we thinking when we planned this. Hospet to Goa between 7-8 hours. Goa to Mumbai 11 hours, 7 hours in Mumbai waiting around for a 19hr 30 minute train to Jodhpur. May I repeat. WTF. I could write all day about the trains here although I feel it would take too much of your time. We arrived at Hospet station early enough for our train only to find out from one of the Chai guys (tea sellers that walk round with a large silver container full of tea selling little cups for 5 rupees whilst singing chai-cha-cha-cha-chai-chilly-chai; or at least that’s what I hear) that our train was one hour late.
When we had originally planned this section of the trip, there would be no less than 6 hours leeway between the trains, just to account for delays, or trains running slower than expected to make sure we would catch the next train north to get to our destination; Jodhpur. On the 1st July, the monsoon timetable comes into effect, changing the times of every station stop in the country. We had now 2 hours leeway to catch our next train from Goa to Mumbai and the train was already one hour late. Felt like a kick in the teeth. This would mess up all the bookings of onward travel and accommodation would have to be cancelled. Alternatively, we would have to catch a flight north and we didn’t really want to spend the money on that.
Chai guy, which I call all of them, came along and told us our train would be arriving soon, maybe in half an hour, after one hour had passed. Tentatively we waited, and waited and it wasn’t until 50 minutes later that we were on the train and departing. 10 minutes leeway. Not a hope. There are always delays. Just got on the train, didn’t mess around with trying to find our seats, we were section 11. Turns out we jumped on 6. Between that and the next sleeper sections were the AC rooms, which if you didn’t have a ticket you were not allowed to pass. We would have to jump off the train at the next long stop and run to the back of the train to our section so we could get our seats. So we stood in between two carriages. Now the funny bit. Transvestites.
I had read little bits and pieces about them on Indian trains but it never really grabbed my attention all that much, but here I am, standing beside a train exit door and I hear this cackling and clapping. I thought to myself, no way, is that them. Sure as hell it was. 4 of them coming along the train carriage, waking people up with their hands out. I thought bollox, I can’t even run anywhere. I was blocking the train exit so Toni could sit on the steps and take pictures. The cackles got louder and louder until finally they had come out of the carriage and stopped and looked at me and a few other guys. Then it started. The tapping for money. They looked at me, started asking for money and started trying to touch my arm. Shrugged them off and told them to piss off (in the nicest possible way obviously.) They were shocked that I would not give them any money. Why would I?? They don’t hold any hoodoo over me; I don’t owe them anything so why would I pay them to get them away, it was beyond me that Indian people would give them anything. One of them tried to push past me to get towards the exit, the exit where Toni was sitting so I didn’t let IT through. It goes, this is my stop (bearing in mind the train was going about 50 miles an hour.) I would not let IT past. I had two bags on so there was no way IT could get past without me letting IT. All the Indian guys were shocked and giggling but they had already coughed up their money. It asked to get past again. I think my words were something like: “I don’t care if this train is moving, I’ll throw you out now if you don’t get away from me.” It replied “ooooooo.” Obviously understanding my English, my intent and the not so happy look on my face, it said something to one of the others then moved away back in and along the carriage.
Toni looks up to me, asks what was all that about, my reply “trannys.” She nodded her head, and just started giggling, probably not wanting to know how I got rid of them.
Next up: Burn Victim.
Another case of “Give me money.” This guy runs up and down the train yelping at people with his hand out for them to give him money. Fair enough, I see that he has more reason to do this than the transvestites but he intentionally takes his shirt off before he starts and puts it on when he finishes his run up and down the carriages. Just another con. The yelps get louder and finally he’s standing beside me, yelping. Yes I felt sorry for the dude, but getting money from me? No chance. He hadn’t just been harassed by transvestites; I should be the one looking for compensation. He got a firm, go away and a shake of the head, he questioned it, then I repeated the go away part and eventually he put his shirt on and left.
All with in the first hour of the train journey. Eventually we got off at Gurag, changed carriage and found our correct seats. Funnily enough, the transvestites’ did the same. They came along the carriage but didn’t hassle me or Toni. RESULT!
With only a few minutes leeway, every stop at every station felt like it was ten minutes too long. All hope was gone, we would have to try and get a sleeper bus to Mumbai the night we arrived and hope it would get us there for 3 o clock the next day. Just got up on the upper berth and tried to get an hour or two of sleep. I did, when I woke up, I found out the stops we were at, got the lonely planet guide maps out and tried to calculate the distance we had covered and how long we had left. I know, Sad. When the only thing you have is free time, it seem like I was wasting much by doing this. We were still behind schedule. The only thing I could hope for was that we would start seeing mountains soon, and then I’d know we were in the border region of Karnataka and Goa and Dudhsagar Falls. After about 2 hours we were there and had about 3 hours on the train to go. Hope. I actually thought we could make it.
After passing the waterfalls, I knew we would still have to get down the mountain region then about 60 km to Margao. With 2 hours to go, I thought it would take us 1hr 30 to get there. The smile appeared on my face again. To think I would actually be happy to jump on another 11 hour train to go catch a 19 hour train.
With our train leaving at 16:45, it was now 16:00. Train just stopped outside of Margao. It had to let one train pass. Then another. It took 30 minutes before we got to Margao station, ran from one platform over to where our train was, quite a lot of people on board. Departing on an overnight train we needed some food because we’ve been warned not to eat train food. Into the station shop, few samosas’, some veg. pastry, some crisps and biscuits, exactly what the doctor ordered. The guy behind the till was messing around; serving other Indian customers first then eventually, he would take my money because he was going to get me a plastic bag. WTF, take my money, my trains leaving, you douche. When he eventually took my money he gave me it back. Would accept 3 ten rupee notes because they had rips in them. Joker. India does not replace old notes, or worn ones, or even accept notes with cellotape. No wonder why he wouldn’t. Threw him 50 rupees, spent another minute or two counting my change then I ran to the train. 5 seconds later, it started moving. MADE IT.
I know I said I wouldn’t ramble on about trains, but tough, this was a dramatic situation and maybe one or two will find it interesting or take some hints if you ever do plan to travel India by train.
The next train was fine, that is if you end up finding out from some gobshite school teacher that the seats Toni and I’s seat were double booked, but since we are the countries guests we can sleep, but she would go see the tiki (train conductor) to get the matter resolved etc etc. Busy body, really had not got time for it; just wanted some sleep. Eventually we find out we were in section 8, not section 7 as our tickets had stated. Woops. Our bad. The hassle was our fault, but the digital boards didn’t match up with the carriage numbers which weren't labeled, so not just our fault. Eventually I had to go see the ticket conductor, and angry little man with too much power in his hands, eventually after a bit or arguing, apologising etc. we got to stay in the seats and the school teacher’s kids took ours. 7 hours later, we arrived in Mumbai CST.
After a full day of trains we went to Leopold café, awesome café in Mumbai, we looked at our next ticket, Train departing from Mumbai Bandra terminus. If any of you have heard on the news about the Bomb in Dadar region of Mumbai recently, Bandra is just past Dadar. Taxi to Churchgate, metro train to Bandra, takes 30 minutes. Arrived in Bandra where a helpful man told us not to take a rickshaw because we would be ripped off to walk it, it was only ten minutes away Outside Bandra metro station we realise what we were in. Bandra was a Mumbai slum, filled with rubbish and shacks that were homes. I felt uneasy. I’m sure Toni did too. We just walked, our heads down, as quickly through the heavy rain as possible, passing dogs, kids playing cricket, using shoes for stumps. It was a drastic change from the scenes of cosmopolitan Mumbai city.
It was a relief when we made it to Bandra Terminus. Don’t know if it was the unknown, paranoia or just the feeling of being completely out of place, but it felt like we were in danger. If we weren’t, we’ll never know. We found our train, then our carriage, not wanting a repeat and just waited so we could get on.
An hour or two passes, we get some food for the journey and the train departs. We sit playing switch, 3 anything’s and an ace and poker and its all going well until what I can only describe as a gypsy family get on after 2 stops. 6 seats to a booth, we had 2 of them and there were ten of them at least, armed with their blankets, big bags filled with naan breads, roti’s curries, rice, veg. They were prepared. Prepared for a nuclear attack. They smelt horrible. It just wasn’t good. And for 19 hours longer. Crap. We decided to jump up on our upper berths away from them and just leave them to it. We just tried to get some sleep and eventually we did, once all the seats were turned into beds and the lights went out and the ticket conductor moved half of them to their proper seats. Probably the best sleep I had on a train since I got here, but that’s not saying much. They got off about 2 hours before we did, eventually we arrived in Jodhpur, Rajasthan, the blue city, and the state I had heard so many good things about.
I fear I may have rambled on a little, so I’ll end it hear for this entry. My India beard is coming along well, not shaved since I got here and its taking shape alright. I'll post a pic before I shave it off.
Til next time folks.
Peace!
The scenery changed constantly as we made our way across Goa, and into Karnataka. From the tropical jungle landscape with meandering rivers, to the Dudhsagar Falls, India’s second highest water fall about ten metres away from the train, close enough to get sprayed, then it was just barren land from 100’s of kilometres until we neared towards Hospet. The guys on the train ensured we got off at the right stop. I don’t know how they know where they are, some stations don’t have signs, and at night I’ve seen one guy jump off the train in a pitch dark area, whilst it was moving quite quickly.
Outside Hospet train station we got a tuk tuk; funny moped that carries more than 3 people, sometimes 7 if people don’t mind the squeeze, to Hampi. We decided that we would risk staying in Hampi even though our train back to Goa two days later would involve a 4:30am wake up. As we got closer and closer to Hampi we started to realise what all the fuss was about. Old ruins, and giant boulders the size of houses, balanced precariously on top of others, with no logical explanation to how they got there. It was no wonder most of them are Natural Heritage sights. Photos can’t begin to describe what Hampi is like. The only words I can use are: It’s like a cross between the Jungle Book and the Flintstones set in amongst ancient ruins from a 500 year old fallen Indian Empire spread over about 35km.
After a little walk and some food we decided that we would hire a guy in a tuk tuk to take us round all of Hampi visiting the temples/ruins and step wells the next day; good idea if walking 35km is not on your to do list. It was a good shout, we seen all of Hampi, seen all the ruins temples and boulder structures, some crazy monkeys and some weird ‘holy’ men, not bad for a day’s trip. We even managed to convince the tuk tuk driver to collect us at 5am the next morning to take us to the train station and sure as hell he was there the next morning just before 5. Hampi is just a magical place and I have no doubt that it will be one of India’s highlights on this trip even if it would take us two days on trains to get to our next destination.
2 days on trains. WTF were we thinking when we planned this. Hospet to Goa between 7-8 hours. Goa to Mumbai 11 hours, 7 hours in Mumbai waiting around for a 19hr 30 minute train to Jodhpur. May I repeat. WTF. I could write all day about the trains here although I feel it would take too much of your time. We arrived at Hospet station early enough for our train only to find out from one of the Chai guys (tea sellers that walk round with a large silver container full of tea selling little cups for 5 rupees whilst singing chai-cha-cha-cha-chai-chilly-chai; or at least that’s what I hear) that our train was one hour late.
When we had originally planned this section of the trip, there would be no less than 6 hours leeway between the trains, just to account for delays, or trains running slower than expected to make sure we would catch the next train north to get to our destination; Jodhpur. On the 1st July, the monsoon timetable comes into effect, changing the times of every station stop in the country. We had now 2 hours leeway to catch our next train from Goa to Mumbai and the train was already one hour late. Felt like a kick in the teeth. This would mess up all the bookings of onward travel and accommodation would have to be cancelled. Alternatively, we would have to catch a flight north and we didn’t really want to spend the money on that.
Chai guy, which I call all of them, came along and told us our train would be arriving soon, maybe in half an hour, after one hour had passed. Tentatively we waited, and waited and it wasn’t until 50 minutes later that we were on the train and departing. 10 minutes leeway. Not a hope. There are always delays. Just got on the train, didn’t mess around with trying to find our seats, we were section 11. Turns out we jumped on 6. Between that and the next sleeper sections were the AC rooms, which if you didn’t have a ticket you were not allowed to pass. We would have to jump off the train at the next long stop and run to the back of the train to our section so we could get our seats. So we stood in between two carriages. Now the funny bit. Transvestites.
I had read little bits and pieces about them on Indian trains but it never really grabbed my attention all that much, but here I am, standing beside a train exit door and I hear this cackling and clapping. I thought to myself, no way, is that them. Sure as hell it was. 4 of them coming along the train carriage, waking people up with their hands out. I thought bollox, I can’t even run anywhere. I was blocking the train exit so Toni could sit on the steps and take pictures. The cackles got louder and louder until finally they had come out of the carriage and stopped and looked at me and a few other guys. Then it started. The tapping for money. They looked at me, started asking for money and started trying to touch my arm. Shrugged them off and told them to piss off (in the nicest possible way obviously.) They were shocked that I would not give them any money. Why would I?? They don’t hold any hoodoo over me; I don’t owe them anything so why would I pay them to get them away, it was beyond me that Indian people would give them anything. One of them tried to push past me to get towards the exit, the exit where Toni was sitting so I didn’t let IT through. It goes, this is my stop (bearing in mind the train was going about 50 miles an hour.) I would not let IT past. I had two bags on so there was no way IT could get past without me letting IT. All the Indian guys were shocked and giggling but they had already coughed up their money. It asked to get past again. I think my words were something like: “I don’t care if this train is moving, I’ll throw you out now if you don’t get away from me.” It replied “ooooooo.” Obviously understanding my English, my intent and the not so happy look on my face, it said something to one of the others then moved away back in and along the carriage.
Toni looks up to me, asks what was all that about, my reply “trannys.” She nodded her head, and just started giggling, probably not wanting to know how I got rid of them.
Next up: Burn Victim.
Another case of “Give me money.” This guy runs up and down the train yelping at people with his hand out for them to give him money. Fair enough, I see that he has more reason to do this than the transvestites but he intentionally takes his shirt off before he starts and puts it on when he finishes his run up and down the carriages. Just another con. The yelps get louder and finally he’s standing beside me, yelping. Yes I felt sorry for the dude, but getting money from me? No chance. He hadn’t just been harassed by transvestites; I should be the one looking for compensation. He got a firm, go away and a shake of the head, he questioned it, then I repeated the go away part and eventually he put his shirt on and left.
All with in the first hour of the train journey. Eventually we got off at Gurag, changed carriage and found our correct seats. Funnily enough, the transvestites’ did the same. They came along the carriage but didn’t hassle me or Toni. RESULT!
With only a few minutes leeway, every stop at every station felt like it was ten minutes too long. All hope was gone, we would have to try and get a sleeper bus to Mumbai the night we arrived and hope it would get us there for 3 o clock the next day. Just got up on the upper berth and tried to get an hour or two of sleep. I did, when I woke up, I found out the stops we were at, got the lonely planet guide maps out and tried to calculate the distance we had covered and how long we had left. I know, Sad. When the only thing you have is free time, it seem like I was wasting much by doing this. We were still behind schedule. The only thing I could hope for was that we would start seeing mountains soon, and then I’d know we were in the border region of Karnataka and Goa and Dudhsagar Falls. After about 2 hours we were there and had about 3 hours on the train to go. Hope. I actually thought we could make it.
After passing the waterfalls, I knew we would still have to get down the mountain region then about 60 km to Margao. With 2 hours to go, I thought it would take us 1hr 30 to get there. The smile appeared on my face again. To think I would actually be happy to jump on another 11 hour train to go catch a 19 hour train.
With our train leaving at 16:45, it was now 16:00. Train just stopped outside of Margao. It had to let one train pass. Then another. It took 30 minutes before we got to Margao station, ran from one platform over to where our train was, quite a lot of people on board. Departing on an overnight train we needed some food because we’ve been warned not to eat train food. Into the station shop, few samosas’, some veg. pastry, some crisps and biscuits, exactly what the doctor ordered. The guy behind the till was messing around; serving other Indian customers first then eventually, he would take my money because he was going to get me a plastic bag. WTF, take my money, my trains leaving, you douche. When he eventually took my money he gave me it back. Would accept 3 ten rupee notes because they had rips in them. Joker. India does not replace old notes, or worn ones, or even accept notes with cellotape. No wonder why he wouldn’t. Threw him 50 rupees, spent another minute or two counting my change then I ran to the train. 5 seconds later, it started moving. MADE IT.
I know I said I wouldn’t ramble on about trains, but tough, this was a dramatic situation and maybe one or two will find it interesting or take some hints if you ever do plan to travel India by train.
The next train was fine, that is if you end up finding out from some gobshite school teacher that the seats Toni and I’s seat were double booked, but since we are the countries guests we can sleep, but she would go see the tiki (train conductor) to get the matter resolved etc etc. Busy body, really had not got time for it; just wanted some sleep. Eventually we find out we were in section 8, not section 7 as our tickets had stated. Woops. Our bad. The hassle was our fault, but the digital boards didn’t match up with the carriage numbers which weren't labeled, so not just our fault. Eventually I had to go see the ticket conductor, and angry little man with too much power in his hands, eventually after a bit or arguing, apologising etc. we got to stay in the seats and the school teacher’s kids took ours. 7 hours later, we arrived in Mumbai CST.
After a full day of trains we went to Leopold café, awesome café in Mumbai, we looked at our next ticket, Train departing from Mumbai Bandra terminus. If any of you have heard on the news about the Bomb in Dadar region of Mumbai recently, Bandra is just past Dadar. Taxi to Churchgate, metro train to Bandra, takes 30 minutes. Arrived in Bandra where a helpful man told us not to take a rickshaw because we would be ripped off to walk it, it was only ten minutes away Outside Bandra metro station we realise what we were in. Bandra was a Mumbai slum, filled with rubbish and shacks that were homes. I felt uneasy. I’m sure Toni did too. We just walked, our heads down, as quickly through the heavy rain as possible, passing dogs, kids playing cricket, using shoes for stumps. It was a drastic change from the scenes of cosmopolitan Mumbai city.
It was a relief when we made it to Bandra Terminus. Don’t know if it was the unknown, paranoia or just the feeling of being completely out of place, but it felt like we were in danger. If we weren’t, we’ll never know. We found our train, then our carriage, not wanting a repeat and just waited so we could get on.
An hour or two passes, we get some food for the journey and the train departs. We sit playing switch, 3 anything’s and an ace and poker and its all going well until what I can only describe as a gypsy family get on after 2 stops. 6 seats to a booth, we had 2 of them and there were ten of them at least, armed with their blankets, big bags filled with naan breads, roti’s curries, rice, veg. They were prepared. Prepared for a nuclear attack. They smelt horrible. It just wasn’t good. And for 19 hours longer. Crap. We decided to jump up on our upper berths away from them and just leave them to it. We just tried to get some sleep and eventually we did, once all the seats were turned into beds and the lights went out and the ticket conductor moved half of them to their proper seats. Probably the best sleep I had on a train since I got here, but that’s not saying much. They got off about 2 hours before we did, eventually we arrived in Jodhpur, Rajasthan, the blue city, and the state I had heard so many good things about.
I fear I may have rambled on a little, so I’ll end it hear for this entry. My India beard is coming along well, not shaved since I got here and its taking shape alright. I'll post a pic before I shave it off.
Til next time folks.
Peace!
Wednesday 6 July 2011
Mumbai/Goa
25th June - 4th July. Entry 1
After an exhausting 9 hour trip from Heathrow, where the only way i found to get to sleep was drink a 'couple' of whiskeys and watch the latest Owen Wilson film hall pass, we finally found ourselves in Mumbai. The only thing that annoyed me about the flight is one of my pet peeves. I hate it when you get on a long haul flight and the person in front, sits down and just flings the chair right back. It then starts a chain reaction, the person behind thinks they don't have enough space and the seats roll back like dominoes. Just wanted to crack him on the back of the head, even more so that he did it before we had even taken off.
Mumbai airport was the first time we could get our hands on any rupees. I, having a rare blonde moment could not for the life of me remember my prepaid mastercard pin number, not the only trouble I've had so far. Toni was able to get some money and we got a pre-paid taxi to our hotel. It was a bit surreal. It took us 40 minutes in a taxi to get to our hotel on mostly large main roads. Mumbai is huge. There is no way we would have been able to find our hotel without the taxi. Although it wasn't far from Mumbai CST (Victorian architecture that wouldn’t seem out of place in a UK old quarter) it was down a side street and even our driver had to ask for directions.
The only thing we did the night we arrived was take a walk up to the CST to have a look at it. We didn’t bring any cameras because we didn’t know how safe the area was. After that, some food then bed. Suprisingly didn’t have much trouble getting to sleep. I think we just passed out with exhaustion.
27th June - sightseeing. We visited nearly every tourist attraction Mumbai had to offer, the Gateway of India, The Taj Hotel, Jehanigir Art Gallery, Jain temple, Chowpatty Beach, Marine drive (Queen's necklace), Hanging gardens, Tower of Silence, Mumbai laundry (6000 people washing clothes outside, although we got there quite late in the day so there was only about 40.) The highlight of the day for me was visiting Gandhi’s house. Unfortunately they have not left the house in the original condition; they’ve turned it into a memorial house, with libraries, pictures, relics and scenes of the major events in Gandhi’s life depicted in display cases. It was still an experience none the less. I wanted to go to the toilet, you know, to say I went at Gandhi’s house but there wasn’t one available. I just assumed that was the reason Gandhi wore a diaper all the time. In this heat, diaper rash must have been a big issue for the little guy.
28th June - More sightseeing. We checked out of the hotel but the guys there were kind enough for us to leave our backpacks so we could go out without having to lug them around. We visited Mumbai's national art gallery, and the national Museum. 300 rupee's entry for foreigners, 15 rupees if you’re a student. WOPPPAA JMU student card, take that security guard. Difference of £4.30 and 21p. Quite a lot when you’re trying to do the most expensive city in India on a budget. We spent quite a few hours there, the place was massive, even a section where you could try on some turbans. I for one was not passing up that opportunity. (pics to follow).
To finish the day we went back to the Gateway of India to sit beside the sea and chill out before thinking about our 11 hour journey on an overnight train, sleeper class, to thivium Goa to our next destination Anjuna Beach, Goa. Didn’t get a chance to chill out, with people asking us to have our pictures taken with them. Motive? Freaks or celebs, who knows but i don’t like pictures at the best of times.
Overnight train. WOW, leaving from the huge Victoria Terminus CST, we after some searching found our train, number 10111 Konkan Express to Goa. Biggest train I’ve ever seen, although, I’m confident it wasn't the biggest in the train station. it was 10pm so I couldn’t tell. So glad i didn’t book chair car, the cheapest section of this train. When we walked past, an hour before the train was departing; it was full and already people were standing. For their sake, I hope they were getting off at an earlier stop than Margao, Goa.
Sleeper class, section 3, seats/beds 67/70, upper berths. Basically the normal seat at the bottom is a bed (lower), the back rest turns into a bed (middle) and then there’s the upper berth at the top on either side then facing the section there’s 2 side berths, upper and lower. Toni and I did what we assumed every other foreigner does, we locked up our backpacks around fixed objects then used them as pillows. Uncomfortable but it would have to do. Security > Comfort any day of the week.
We both managed to get some sleep, once some of the lights were turned off and guy's walking up and down the train selling chai, coffee (at midnight?!?) snacks, water and toys stopped shouting out as they passed. Overnight train was an experience to say the least, one that I will have to get used to with another 9 of them to go before we cross the border into Nepal.
We managed to ask around for thivium, then walked about 500m from station to catch a bus, 10 rupees to mapusa then catch another bus for another 10 rupees to get to anjuna. We could have hired a rickshaw or taxi to take us straight there but for 13pence a bus it would have been silly. 100m from starco junction was Anjunapalms guesthouse, which we booked using hostel world. The woman there was very friendly, offering us advice and explaining that most things would be closed during the monsoon season. Yes, warm, humid and lots of rain, but we had expected that beforehand.
Anjuna beach was quite nice but was spoiled due to the rubbish and dogs. Both, everywhere. Little bars, restaurants shacks selling the usual suspects and beach hats. It seemed like they just kept the cafe's open for the local hippies still trying to find their nirvana on the west coast of India. Curly's bar on the sea front seemed to be their spot. Up went the mosquito net and down went the head, after an exhausting trip we needed some sleep. It was all going well until the electricity went out, storm perhaps causing a tree to fall on the line.
We decided to move on the next day. Off to Mapusa again on the bus, then straight to Panjim, the capital of Goa. We hadn't decided whether to stay there or to head off to one of the close beaches. We went to a restaurant and had some food whilst getting out the map. We decided after lunch we would go to Dona Paula, a beach famous for being the setting for Bollywood films. After seeing it I have no reason to why that is. There is a lot to be said about taking a scenic picture of a beach to show how wonderful it is, all about the camera positioning. If you turned the camera around I’m sure for nearly every beach in India, there would be a pile of rubbish at the top and stray dogs rummaging through the rubbish. At this stage the Goa beach dream was over.
We tried to check in to a guesthouse but the guy said that he would need to take our passports into the city to get our visas photocopied. A week into the gap year there was no hope we trusted anybody with our passports. We left and travelled back into Panjim. It’s a nice place with the Mondovi River running through it, with large casino boats out in the middle, with a large promenade, more likely to be seen in the Costa's or Algarve.
That night we stayed in Hotel Reko, right beside the bus stand. I’ve never been so glad to get out of a hotel in my entire life. No air in the room, a fan that just blew hot air around, dusty bed sheets and the worst part; Bed Bugs. Hated every second of that night. Neither of us could sleep. We sat in our sleeping liners watching Killing Bono, a bit like watching 24, but instead of hoping somebody would just stick a bullet in Jack Bauer's head it was instead that pompous dipshit Bono.
Next morning it was off to Margao, a clean town in southern Goa. It is very easy to get around this state; buses for 10 rupees (14 pence) take you everywhere basically. We had a look at India's Lonely Planet guide for Margao and it recommended one Hotel: Margao Residency. We booked one night to see what it was like, and we soon booked 3 after. This place is better than the Travelodge I stayed in Manchester, and for about £4.40 a night each. After paying a lot more in Mumbai, having electricity and water problems in anjuna palms and having a disaster in Panjim, I was really happy to be here. We don’t even have to put up or mosquito net here and with 'star movies' we've sat and watched Semi Pro, Die Hard 4.0 and both Sister Acts. Good times......i think.
Tomorrow it’s off to Hospet and Hampi, as recommended by Sci Coyle, looking forward to seeing the ruins. I like this blogging thing; hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up, unlike last year.
Till next time folks.
After an exhausting 9 hour trip from Heathrow, where the only way i found to get to sleep was drink a 'couple' of whiskeys and watch the latest Owen Wilson film hall pass, we finally found ourselves in Mumbai. The only thing that annoyed me about the flight is one of my pet peeves. I hate it when you get on a long haul flight and the person in front, sits down and just flings the chair right back. It then starts a chain reaction, the person behind thinks they don't have enough space and the seats roll back like dominoes. Just wanted to crack him on the back of the head, even more so that he did it before we had even taken off.
Mumbai airport was the first time we could get our hands on any rupees. I, having a rare blonde moment could not for the life of me remember my prepaid mastercard pin number, not the only trouble I've had so far. Toni was able to get some money and we got a pre-paid taxi to our hotel. It was a bit surreal. It took us 40 minutes in a taxi to get to our hotel on mostly large main roads. Mumbai is huge. There is no way we would have been able to find our hotel without the taxi. Although it wasn't far from Mumbai CST (Victorian architecture that wouldn’t seem out of place in a UK old quarter) it was down a side street and even our driver had to ask for directions.
The only thing we did the night we arrived was take a walk up to the CST to have a look at it. We didn’t bring any cameras because we didn’t know how safe the area was. After that, some food then bed. Suprisingly didn’t have much trouble getting to sleep. I think we just passed out with exhaustion.
27th June - sightseeing. We visited nearly every tourist attraction Mumbai had to offer, the Gateway of India, The Taj Hotel, Jehanigir Art Gallery, Jain temple, Chowpatty Beach, Marine drive (Queen's necklace), Hanging gardens, Tower of Silence, Mumbai laundry (6000 people washing clothes outside, although we got there quite late in the day so there was only about 40.) The highlight of the day for me was visiting Gandhi’s house. Unfortunately they have not left the house in the original condition; they’ve turned it into a memorial house, with libraries, pictures, relics and scenes of the major events in Gandhi’s life depicted in display cases. It was still an experience none the less. I wanted to go to the toilet, you know, to say I went at Gandhi’s house but there wasn’t one available. I just assumed that was the reason Gandhi wore a diaper all the time. In this heat, diaper rash must have been a big issue for the little guy.
28th June - More sightseeing. We checked out of the hotel but the guys there were kind enough for us to leave our backpacks so we could go out without having to lug them around. We visited Mumbai's national art gallery, and the national Museum. 300 rupee's entry for foreigners, 15 rupees if you’re a student. WOPPPAA JMU student card, take that security guard. Difference of £4.30 and 21p. Quite a lot when you’re trying to do the most expensive city in India on a budget. We spent quite a few hours there, the place was massive, even a section where you could try on some turbans. I for one was not passing up that opportunity. (pics to follow).
To finish the day we went back to the Gateway of India to sit beside the sea and chill out before thinking about our 11 hour journey on an overnight train, sleeper class, to thivium Goa to our next destination Anjuna Beach, Goa. Didn’t get a chance to chill out, with people asking us to have our pictures taken with them. Motive? Freaks or celebs, who knows but i don’t like pictures at the best of times.
Overnight train. WOW, leaving from the huge Victoria Terminus CST, we after some searching found our train, number 10111 Konkan Express to Goa. Biggest train I’ve ever seen, although, I’m confident it wasn't the biggest in the train station. it was 10pm so I couldn’t tell. So glad i didn’t book chair car, the cheapest section of this train. When we walked past, an hour before the train was departing; it was full and already people were standing. For their sake, I hope they were getting off at an earlier stop than Margao, Goa.
Sleeper class, section 3, seats/beds 67/70, upper berths. Basically the normal seat at the bottom is a bed (lower), the back rest turns into a bed (middle) and then there’s the upper berth at the top on either side then facing the section there’s 2 side berths, upper and lower. Toni and I did what we assumed every other foreigner does, we locked up our backpacks around fixed objects then used them as pillows. Uncomfortable but it would have to do. Security > Comfort any day of the week.
We both managed to get some sleep, once some of the lights were turned off and guy's walking up and down the train selling chai, coffee (at midnight?!?) snacks, water and toys stopped shouting out as they passed. Overnight train was an experience to say the least, one that I will have to get used to with another 9 of them to go before we cross the border into Nepal.
We managed to ask around for thivium, then walked about 500m from station to catch a bus, 10 rupees to mapusa then catch another bus for another 10 rupees to get to anjuna. We could have hired a rickshaw or taxi to take us straight there but for 13pence a bus it would have been silly. 100m from starco junction was Anjunapalms guesthouse, which we booked using hostel world. The woman there was very friendly, offering us advice and explaining that most things would be closed during the monsoon season. Yes, warm, humid and lots of rain, but we had expected that beforehand.
Anjuna beach was quite nice but was spoiled due to the rubbish and dogs. Both, everywhere. Little bars, restaurants shacks selling the usual suspects and beach hats. It seemed like they just kept the cafe's open for the local hippies still trying to find their nirvana on the west coast of India. Curly's bar on the sea front seemed to be their spot. Up went the mosquito net and down went the head, after an exhausting trip we needed some sleep. It was all going well until the electricity went out, storm perhaps causing a tree to fall on the line.
We decided to move on the next day. Off to Mapusa again on the bus, then straight to Panjim, the capital of Goa. We hadn't decided whether to stay there or to head off to one of the close beaches. We went to a restaurant and had some food whilst getting out the map. We decided after lunch we would go to Dona Paula, a beach famous for being the setting for Bollywood films. After seeing it I have no reason to why that is. There is a lot to be said about taking a scenic picture of a beach to show how wonderful it is, all about the camera positioning. If you turned the camera around I’m sure for nearly every beach in India, there would be a pile of rubbish at the top and stray dogs rummaging through the rubbish. At this stage the Goa beach dream was over.
We tried to check in to a guesthouse but the guy said that he would need to take our passports into the city to get our visas photocopied. A week into the gap year there was no hope we trusted anybody with our passports. We left and travelled back into Panjim. It’s a nice place with the Mondovi River running through it, with large casino boats out in the middle, with a large promenade, more likely to be seen in the Costa's or Algarve.
That night we stayed in Hotel Reko, right beside the bus stand. I’ve never been so glad to get out of a hotel in my entire life. No air in the room, a fan that just blew hot air around, dusty bed sheets and the worst part; Bed Bugs. Hated every second of that night. Neither of us could sleep. We sat in our sleeping liners watching Killing Bono, a bit like watching 24, but instead of hoping somebody would just stick a bullet in Jack Bauer's head it was instead that pompous dipshit Bono.
Next morning it was off to Margao, a clean town in southern Goa. It is very easy to get around this state; buses for 10 rupees (14 pence) take you everywhere basically. We had a look at India's Lonely Planet guide for Margao and it recommended one Hotel: Margao Residency. We booked one night to see what it was like, and we soon booked 3 after. This place is better than the Travelodge I stayed in Manchester, and for about £4.40 a night each. After paying a lot more in Mumbai, having electricity and water problems in anjuna palms and having a disaster in Panjim, I was really happy to be here. We don’t even have to put up or mosquito net here and with 'star movies' we've sat and watched Semi Pro, Die Hard 4.0 and both Sister Acts. Good times......i think.
Tomorrow it’s off to Hospet and Hampi, as recommended by Sci Coyle, looking forward to seeing the ruins. I like this blogging thing; hopefully I’ll be able to keep it up, unlike last year.
Till next time folks.
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