October 2015 – Travels

Refusing to use ‘Pi’ in blog title

Posted on October 31, 2015 by Steve

We woke up to a miracle of well being on the day we planned to leave for Puducherry from Mahabalipuram. Perhaps it was because we have visited so many temples, maybe because I have patted so many cows, it could be modern medicine, who knows?

Sheila was feeling so back to normal, despite my suggestion we catch another taxi, she was happy to go by local bus.

The super deluxe coach from Mahabalipuram to Puducherry, this means it has decent seats.

The ultra deluxe coach from Mahabalipuram to Puducherry, this means it has decent seats.

Overnight train trips get you to your destination overnight, but you don’t get to see a lot. Daytime bus trips through rural India are another story. Salt harvesting, rice paddies, other unidentified crops, countless shrines and temples and on this trip, a real thrill to see wild flamingoes in a lake we passed.

Flamingo at Kuala Lumpur bird park for illustration purposes only

Lonely Planet had another win with the Park Guest House where every room has a balcony overlooking the Bay of Bengal. This place is run by the Sri Aurobindo ashram and the grounds are full of simple but beautiful pieces of art some of which are going to be replicated at home.

All over the place are posters of Sri Aurobindo and The Mother, a French woman who became his collaborator. There are lots of rules and even a curfew, but it was a great place to stay and see if Puducherry would scratch Sheila’s itch.

Of we set on foot in search of French influence. We didn’t get far before we fell victim to the ice cream shop just down the street at Alliance Francais. This was a good start.

The old map had lots of streets with French names. A newer map, and the streets themselves, had Indian names. The good start was tarnished a bit.

Before long Sheila was so well and in such rapture that she was salivating at all the Frenchiness ranging from buildings to food to faux gendarmes with non-faux firearms.

Puducherry police

There is a French embassy and to ice the cake of expectation, people actually speak French here. Sheila is in heaven and I have to conceded that I was wrong about Puducherry being as French as Nouméa I.e. not at all.

There was a rehearsal for a parade and the military guys were happy to pose, just look at the excitement on their faces

The cherry on top of the croissant was a wonderful meal in an almost French restaurant. My how the appetite has returned.

Delighted at our ‘French’ dinner, this makes me happy and life easier.

There was also a certain amount of wistfulness starting to creep in because our trip is ending . Puducherry is our last stop before heading back to Chennai for our flight to Malaysia. So we were lapping it up.

More Park Guest House art, broken terracotta pots.

More Park Guest House art, pieces from broken terracotta pots.

Of course there were Hindu temples, one particularly spectacular and another with what can only be described as an endearing performing elephant.

Hindu temple Puducherry

Temple ceiling

Place some money at the end of its trunk and it will touch you on the head to “bless” you. This is important enough to people to have them lining up and the elephant receiving enough coins to keep it supplied in croissants.

Elephant blessing

You can take the girl out of the Catholic Church but you can’t totally remove the church from the girl. So we visited some old churches and I scratched my head as Sheila, who had been a bit puzzled by the overt devotion of Hindus, crossed herself entering and leaving. Or maybe the scratching was from the elephant blessing.

Happy face electrical box bathing in rainbow

Happy face Catholic electrical box bathing in rainbow

Who knew that baby Jesus had male-pattern baldness, obviously inherited.

Continuing the series of military male models

I think you get the drift: there never was a Pondicherry zoo, but the French really were there and their influence remains. We had a lovely time and the truth is, there’s not a lot to write about, but plenty of pics of a relaxing couple of days.

Cutting firewood for the restaurant cooker, with an electric saw

Doctor doctor give me the news…

Posted on October 31, 2015 by Steve

Although I am generally writing posts a few days after the event I try to write it as though it is a live blog, hopefully you feel you are right here with us at Suradeep Hospital, Mamallpuram.

Suradeep Hospital, Mamallapuram

But before I get to the gory details let me back up, because the journey is as much fun as the destination, sometimes.

Although she wasn’t up to walking, eating or much else, The Sheila was so looking forward to heading south to Puducherry she worked out an itinerary that included a place I hadn’t heard of, Mamallapuram or Mahabalipuram as it is also known.

Digression: there is a trend to change all the colonial names back to either their original or to an Indian name e.g. Mumbai was Bombay, Chennai was Madras. This can be very confusing when you have two maps of a place and the streets have different names on each map.

We flew into Chennai early afternoon from Kolkata with The Sheila as sick as ever, if not worse. This being her part of the holiday I am saying “yes” to almost everything including “taxi, I am too sick for a bus”. Fair enough, it was Rs1,200 ($25) which is quite expensive by Indian standards but a) it was over an hour b) AC and c) random foreign tourist rate.

Research included finding a hotel in an inherited (and since passed on) Lonely Planet guide book. Our experience has been mixed with LP suggestions. Varanasi hotel was great, this one not so much. Huge room with AC, quite clean, quiet, but no screens on the windows and the bathroom was pretty grotty. This is especially important when you aren’t feeling well already.

You can see what a joyous event an Indian marriage is. This was at the celebration and photo shoot the night before the ceremony We were invited to attend the ceremony the next morning, unfortunately Sheila was too sick.

Sheila spent all that afternoon and evening in bed while I wandered what turned out to be quite a nice place. I’d say it started as a fishing village, but they have adapted to tourism really well. The streets are the cleanest I have seen in India, they hustle the itinerant touts and sellers out of the area and the shop keepers are quite friendly. Though behind their relaxed friendliness lurks the desire to hustle you into their shop.

The difference was that there wasn’t so much pressure to buy, just having a look was acceptable to many of them and I had some great conversations, especially with the owner of the first music shop I have seen. I kind of wanted a tabla, but they are so big to carry.

My uke meets its bigger and watt more complicated cousins

My uke meets its bigger and way more complicated cousins

By now Sheila hadn’t eaten for 3 days and she wasn’t responding to any treatment I found on the internet when searching for “sick in India”. While walking home that night I passed a hospital/clinic and we decided to go there in the morning.

Entrance to the hospital

As the parent of a doctor and a pseudo doctor myself I have an idea about the western standard of medical facilities, Suradeep Hospital didn’t come close, except by name. For once being foreign tourists worked to our advantage and we queue jumped lots of sick locals. A sweet woman doctor was seeing a steady stream of patients as well as handling the money and giving instructions to five or so nurses and assistants.

This photo gives an idea of the sad state of everything, patient included

She wants to do blood tests and rehydrate Sheila. Foreign Tourist advantage: some bloke, likely dying of malaria or worse, is kicked out of a small room and Sheila is put on a Sodium Lactate drip in the back streets of an Indian fishing village.

The beginning of a happy ending

It is almost as bad as you are imagining. No change of sheets on the bed between patients though a pillow is found (no pillowcase) and put under the sheet. They do use antiseptic but no gloves. There is a fan in the windowless room, but power has been erratic all morning. None of the staff speak English. And not a working Clown Doctor in sight.

Ummm…

Leaving her to her fate I am sent on a mission to find a better hotel. Though I don’t want to bore you with details, I will share the criteria so that I can get some of the sympathy you are feeling for Sheila.

Clean
Sea breeze
AC
Soft bed
Screened windows
WiFi
Reasonable price
Quiet
Hot water
Ground floor

This is pretty much mission impossible, but I say “yes” and head out. A couple of hours later, having checked out every hotel in town (10+) I am able to report back that from the list of requirements she can choose any 4 and a hotel would fit the bill. The only happy ending happening this day was that one hotel, Siva Guest House, just around the corner from our original, won the day. Oh how I wish I had noted the names of all the hotels in all my posts…sigh.

As they hook Sheila up to a second bottle, this time Sodium Chloride, I am despatched to move house. This place, though on the 3rd floor, has screens, wonderful breezes and a balcony. The promised WiFi is disappointing. Geeky friends, have you ever heard of a WiFi access point being visible to some devices but not others? I couldn’t figure it out. Didn’t matter, it was slow anyway.

Just before the hospital visit, doesn’t she look great? Nice beach though, cows included.

Just as I finish the final trip from the original hotel with all our luggage and am ready for a shower and a nap my phone rings, possibly the second time in India. Sheila is finished and while I am tempted to try my luck with some humour and say “just walk back to the old hotel, you’ll see me” I don’t tempt fate and instead say “see you in 5 minutes”.

It is too late to cut a long story short, but some tablets were handed over, blood results analysed (minor infection) and we chatted to the doctor who owns the clinic. She hadn’t had a break in over 25 years or so and treats poor people for free. Our bill came to Rs2,600 ($55) and we gave her Rs3,000 to pay for some medicine for someone who couldn’t afford it.

I am going to kill this tale by saying that Sheila ate something that night, first food in 4 days, and by the next morning she was almost back to normal having risen from what she was convinced was her death bed.

I knew she was better, we went shopping!!! We went walking!!! We continued shopping!!! We ate!!!! We went shopping some more!!!

Random photo to fill page: I found the burial site of Australia’s fast broadband network, outsourced of course.

Having bought some cushion covers the next mission was to find a matching textile for the back of the couch and we did. It was Rs2,500 according to the shop keeper. I have mentioned that Sheila is uncomfortable with me haggling. She figures we earn enough to pay full price and I suspect she is also worried about me offending people. But to me, and I think to the shop keepers it is a game that while there is an edge, can be loads of fun.

And so it was with this guy. We spent about half an hour bantering and batting back and forth and bemoaning the fact that our children wouldn’t be able to eat and we laughed and the price was coming down slowly. In fact we really wanted this piece but I knew better than to let on, we were going to leave and go and think about it…but if he gave it to us for our spending limit of Rs1,000 we would buy now.

The Rs1,000 spending limit was something I invented when I got a sniff he might sell for that. Back and forth we went, he even offered us chai, he acknowledged was enjoying the game, I was honoured but knew it was a ploy to weaken me. Fortuitously I had exactly Rs1,000 in my top pocket, I whipped it out, handed it to him and he laughed “better than nothing” and we had a deal. Not bad from a Rs2,500 start. Sheila softened the blow by not haggling for a pair of earrings.

Incredible some masons start with this and in about 6 weeks truth it into...

Incredible stone mason starts with this and in about 6 weeks turns it into…

The final result of the carver’s handiwork. I was truly in awe.

Rather than take a taxi, we head 100km to Puducherry by local bus. Rs60 Vs Rs2,000. This has been a long post, so that tale is still to come.

Sick as one of the many dogs

Posted on October 29, 2015 by Steve

With only a week left before we leave India we decided that rather than spend a couple of days in Kolkata, we would just stay overnight.

The plan was to catch the 2130hrs train from Gaya arriving in Kolkata at 0700hrs, that gave us a full day to at least check out some of the colonial architecture.

Advice: In India, always write your plans in pencil.

By this time Sheila was decidedly unwell and had been for a couple of days. I decided to join her in the land of unwell and was feeling pretty dodgy too. We both had to keep the location if the nearest washroom (as they are known) in mind – too much information?

Out comes the plan eraser: train is 3.5 hours late, it is now leaving at 0100hrs – joy! – we have taken to sleeping on the platform like everyone else. At least once the train arrives we get our beds and I get a good nights sleep. Her? Not so good. By the time we get to Kolkata, somehow another hour has vanished into the Indian time hole so we now only have the afternoon instead of all day.

Have we been in India too long when we start sleeping on the train platform with the locals?

It is a moot point, because by now the notion of colonial architecture and anything else Kolkata has to offer has been completely erased from the plan given physical condition and capabilities.

Getting ready for an evening of festivities.

Stupidly I hadn’t organised a hotel in Kolkata. Normally this is OK, but when one member of the expedition is sick and tired and cranky it isn’t such a great idea. I had worked out the area we wanted to stay so into a taxi we jump and head to Park St with me having increased the cranky level by standing in line for 20 minutes for a taxi ticket instead of paying double and just getting a taxi.

There had been much festivities this day the final day of a festival, these guys were drummed out.

Unusually, taxi driver has no idea of hotels in what is the sort of tourist part of town and we effectively run in the door of the first one we see. It has AC, a bed and a toilet, it’s all we need.

Food has been the suspected culprit and I suddenly had the thought that perhaps this was more of a bug than just cultural wars. After all, I caught it a couple of days later and we have been sharing water bottles.

We rummaged through the medical kit, consulted a holy man, read chai leaves and decided which antibiotic Sheila would take. She’s asleep right now so I can’t ask if it helped, but I am not sure it did, she hasn’t eaten for a day and a half. Having said that, she does seem a little bit better today. Don’t worry about me though, my appetite hasn’t been affected at all.

New contender for ‘bottom of the traffic pecking order’. Hadn’t seen a hand pulled rickshaw in India before.

I am not sure Sheila remembers Kolkata at all. The next morning we have to get to the airport and fly to Chennai. The guy behind the desk has been pressuring me to take the hotel car for Rs500 or Rs600 with AC, I am not impressed and the more someone insists I do something they want rather than what I want, the digger my heels get in.

I had added the Uber app the previous day and this was the time to go for it. I book a car and no shit, it arrives in less than 1 minute and that includes driving past the hotel and backing up.

Sheila is weak and sick and I am making sure she is OK and getting to the car, the guy still wants me to take the hotel car, the porters are being very helpful carrying my bags despite me asking them not to, the Uber driver is making sure we are us, it is frenetic and crazy. We get in the car and the porter sticks his head in and says “please, a tip?”, the last thing I needed right then. I shove a whopping Rs10 (20c) into his hand and pull the door shut to wipe the shocked look off his face. I wasn’t kind, as Sheila constantly reminds me we make more in a year than they see in a lifetime, but they are so fucking insistent and persistent.

There really is colonial architecture in Kolkata, maybe we will see more of it next time

My first ever Uber booking is a dream. The guy drops us at the airport door, the total is Rs216 we are out of Kolkata and on our way to Chennai for a few days before flying home via KL. Since seeing Life of Pi after the germination of the India trip idea, Sheila had in the back of her mind visiting Puducherry, the home of the (emphasising this) mythical Pondicherry zoo.

Are we heading to the disappointment of an unfulfilled expectation (as I suspect)? Can it be anything like the movie? Is the French influence still there? After all Noumea was so disappointing.

I still have to write that up, after Mamallapuram.

Guys playing a game that is sort of drafts crossed with snooker.

Under the bodhi tree

Posted on October 28, 2015 by Steve

Many months ago I started reading a book that turned out to effectively be Buddha’s biography. It was pretty dry reading “and then he…and then he…and then he…” none the less I found it really interesting. At about the same time I was forming a plan for this trip and thought “wouldn’t it be cool to visit Bodhgaya, the place where Buddha attained enlightenment?” and here we are.

Unfinished temple, is going to be most spectacular when done.

After many big cities Bodhgaya is quite a bit more relaxed. It is not very big and there are rice paddies about 50m from our hotel. There are, as you might expect lots of Buddhists coming to visit Mahabodhi Temple, the site of the wondrous event and the location of a descendant of the original Bodhi tree under which Buddha was sitting.

Mahbodhi Temple in the location where Buddha attained enlightenment. Likely the most holy place for Buddhists.

Mahabodhi Temple in the location where Buddha attained enlightenment. Likely the most holy place for Buddhists.

Many countries have built monasteries and temples here; Vietnam, Japan, China Bhutan to name a few and while they may not be intentionally trying to outdo each other (are Buddhists competitive?) there are some spectacular buildings, all within walking distance. There are also many, many monks and nuns walking, riding bicycles, motor bikes and autos.

30 metre high Buddha built by the Japanese

The Mahabodhi Temple is a very peaceful place with lots of people praying and meditating. Some walk, some sit, some prostrate themselves. We sat for about an hour just watching people around the tree which seems to be the focus for pilgrims.

Meditating monk passing bodhi tree at Mahbodhi Temple

Meditating monk passing bodhi tree at Mahabodhi Temple. I love this photo. We sat for a long time and this guy was walking slowly around and around the temple, occasionally he would pick up a little train of 3 or 4 followers then they would drop off and he would keep going. We made eye contact a couple of times and he had a lovely gentle smile. I also love that to the left of him is people sitting meditating, to the right of him is people walking, western clothes. For me the photo is a story that I am not sure conveys well if you weren’t there.

There is another focus and that is catching the occasional leaf that flutters to the ground. I had spotted a couple and each time was beaten to them by someone else. It wouldn’t be good form to elbow an elderly nun out of the way over a leaf. Eventually I told a monk I was after one and when he saw one hit the ground he grabbed it and gave it to me. I have a plan for framing it when we get back. Sitting again I saw another come down and this time I was quickest and now had my second leaf, but I had beaten an older monk to it so I gave it to him and the look of excitement on his face was worth it.

Not the same monk ;o)

Neither of us has been 100% well here, Sheila especially so, so on our last day, after she faded badly out in the streets we came back to the hotel where she slept much of the afternoon and I borrowed a bicycle to head into town. Using the road in India at all is quite an interesting exercise, riding a bike when you haven’t been on one for a few years what could possibly go wrong?

In fact nothing went wrong, but unlike me, I did forget the golden rule for getting services of any sort; Negotiate a price first. The seat on the bike was a little high so I stopped at a “bike repair shop” i.e. a spot by the road where someone fixed bikes, and asked the guy to lower the seat about 2cm. At home a 3 minute job like this, mechanic would just say “don’t worry about any money” but this is India so I reckon it would be a Rs5 or Rs10 job. Like I said, I didn’t fix a price up front and the guy wanted Rs50! OK, this is only $1 but that’s beside the point, I had been well and truly cheated and despite him not speaking English, he got my message very clearly and one of the blokes standing around who could speak a little English also passed on my displeasure. I ought to add that the blokes standing around had wry smiles on their faces that I read as “you got done mate, it wasn’t fair, but what did you expect?”. But the bike was more comfortable.

[EDIT] Days later again finally some decent wifi. Jump to photos to fill out the story.

Sheila under the bodhi tree

The main Buddah idol inside the Mahabodhi temple

I was on my bike and noticed all the banners and bunting hiding the street seller stalls. Kept riding, somehow I was unwittingly through barricades and right alongside the Governor of Bihar’s car. No one panicked but they did move me back pretty quick ;o). Then they removed the decorations and the non-existent stalls that the Governor surely knew about anyway magically reappeared.

Cow dung pats used for cooking drying on a wall. This is a really common sight. I am sure the cooking fires are a major contributor to the poor quality of Indian air.

This is a really common sight, cow dung pats used for cooking drying on a wall. I am sure the cooking fires are a major contributor to the poor quality of Indian air.

Tergar Monastry – there a loads of monastries in bodhgaya

Dragon staircase at the unfinished temple above.

We’re here to help…

Posted on October 22, 2015 by Steve

Were you eagle eyed enough to spot the (uncorrected because I can’t be bothered) mistake in the last post? Red Fort was actually in Delhi, in Agra is Agra Fort, so mentally move that part of the post to the previous one.

The exciting news is that this gives me the opportunity to include a shot of yet another baoli! It’s a pretty boring one, with a steel grating over it, though marked as a baoli. And quite tricky to find despite asking at least 10 staff, it is more of a well, unless maybe the steps were filled in some time in the past.

Agra Fort baoli

Generally railway stations, though busy, bustling crowded places, are quite sedate – if that is not a contradiction. There are families sitting, eating, sleeping waiting patiently for their train. A wave of people leaves on a train, the station fills up again and the cycle repeats.

Agra station was different. For a start, every other station I have boarded a train has illuminated signs along the platform that tell you where your carriage is, but not in Agra. More than that, there was a lot of young men, some of them standing blatantly staring at Sheila, while not threatening, it was decidedly creepy.

Suddenly we have some people attach themselves to us, but instead of the touts and hasslers it is Nicola from the UK and Eddie from Scotland. With all the creepy, but apparently harmless, openly staring men they felt more comfortable in a “safety in numbers” situation, we all got on well and shared stories and they told us about the hotel they were heading to in Varanasi, so it was a fortuitous meeting.

Then the train arrived. I have seen some mad moments and this was one of them. All the young men were in general seating i.e. no reserved seats, so there was an insane rush for the train with about 20 guys at each door jostling and pushing tying to get into an already crowded carriage that people were likely trying to get out of.

The trains come into a station quite slowly, perhaps this is not official policy, but I think it is to allow people to jump on and off before it stops with out actually killing themselves. So we got to see our carriage go past (they are all clearly marked – mostly) and keep going down the platform. This meant we had to jostle through the already jostlers and work our way down to our carriage. The train was 45 minutes late and I was a bit concerned it might do a stop and go like the buses, so I was leading the foray past families sitting eating and sleeping with men forming a bit of a barrier to stop them being trampled…not in a dangerous trampling sense, but it would have been not pleasant to have either young guys or us in the middle of their chappatis.

Camouflaged goat. The colouring was actually quite unusual and beautiful.

I guess on Back to the Future Day I can romanticise and say that we woke up in Varanasi, time and location having changed while we slept. The usual auto ride through busy streets, this one more fun because we are jammed into an auto with Nicola and Eddie and their backpacks. I get to ~~sit~~ hang on in the front with the driver – I am reminded of a time when sailing on a big boat Cruz Control and a wrist strap caught on the boom and it swung out over the side of the boat way out in the ocean with me hanging on. Can’t decide which was more dangerous.

The lane outside our hotel one afternoon. Fortunately we were coming in from the other end. The Hindi word for cow is “gai” and I do love most of the cows, they are placid and care free and at the top of the traffic pecking order…and they know it.

The auto can’t get us quite to the Sarai River View Hotel, the last 100m or so is down some narrow lanes, I remind Sheila that at the end of every dingy lane is a surprisingly great hotel. Up to a room and there in front of us is a balcony with a most wonderful view over Assi Ghat and the Ganges.

The balcony and view from Sahi River View hotel Varanasi. We didn’t mind this spot at all.

The story we heard was that The Ganges was formed when the goddess Shiva took a shower and is the holiest of Hindu places, it is likely one of the most polluted of India’s places. If Shiva is anything like us, she took multiple showers a day to wash off the sweat, the grime and the Ganges water, but I can’t find a reference to that.

Just south of where we were staying was the Assi river, or more appropriately, the Assi cesspool cum drain. It is the most vile waterway I have seen and it flows directly into the Ganges just upriver from the intake towers for the city’s drinking water.

How are we going with the picture I am trying to paint of the state of The Ganges? Let me continue…

At monsoon time the river comes up and dumps metres of silt along the ghats. For the next few months they use high pressure hoses to wash the silt back into the river clearing the ghats… they haven’t finished yet this year and some places were quite treacherous. The 1984 flood record is marked on some very high walls about a metre or so from the top, can only imagine what it looked like.

Silt on the banks of The Ganges, Varanasi

Add to the river the fact that most of India is not sewered. A Lonely Planet guide statistic from 2009 says that the safe levels of E. coli is 500 parts per million but the water was measured at 1.5 million ppm (the link above says it is far worse). Doesn’t stop people swimming, washing, bathing and being interred in it.

Sunrise, the red tinge is caused by air pollution which is awful right across India

Which leads to one of the things Varanasi is noted for, the cremation ghats. We headed to the old city and stopped for a sugar cane juice. Walla didn’t have any change so bloke standing there helped us out a bit.

The cycle rickshaws are all decorated on the back

It is important that I define “helping out” because it is a recurring theme for the day. When a person offers to help – and I admit this is only 99.99% of the time – it means they have something to sell. This guy hooked up with us and wanted to take us to his shop despite me telling him we didn’t want to buy anything. As we walked he was always just behind our just ahead or just over the road keeping pace. We ducked into an alley being suddenly interested in sandals, for a while I thought we had lost him, but there he was waiting for us to emerge. Note to self: next time duck into shop in alley so he can’t see you in alley.

Down a lane pointing to the Vishnawath Temple, our first planned stop. Helper is still with us. I can’t remember quite how it happened but he stopped helping us only to be replaced (or was it usurped?) by someone else who helped us when a shopkeeper didn’t understand English.

This helper stuck with us for almost 2 hours. I made it clear we weren’t interested in buying anything but he hung in there knowing a softie when he spotted Sheila.

In fact he was a pretty good guide, he explained lots of things, took us to the cremation ghats (wait for it…) and the government bhang shop. This one sells ganga overlooking The Ganga. And what a range they had, balls, cakes, patties and no doubt other delights. This is for locals only apparently.

We always try to support the local economy

It ended up that we couldn’t get into the temple, you need your passport and I don’t carry mine when not heading to a new city. So we wound our way down to the main cremation ghat and were handed to a guy who specifically told us he didn’t want to help (if you get my drift) but ended up being more helpful than we expected.

Up a couple of flights off stairs to a balcony in the building and we were directly overlooking the cremation fires – we were close enough that it was hot and smoky. Bodies are wrapped in cloth then covered in a bright outer wrapping of material and carried to the ghat through the alleys on bamboo stretchers with someone walking ahead calling that they are coming through. We saw this once and as you would, respectfully stepped aside.

Once at the river the body is rinsed briefly in the water, left to dry for a while then placed on a pile of timber which is set alight by a family member. The flame comes from Shiva’s fire that we were told has been burning continuously for 2,500 years.

Piles of wood ready to be taken to the ghat to cremate people. The amount needed per body is surprisingly small.

At any one time there are 8 or so cremations at various points of completion; some just started, some partly burned, some finished. They burn over 200 bodies a day and it is all very matter of fact with guys using long bamboo poles to stoke the fires and “rearrange” the contents – I will leave the detail at that despite the whole process being quite graphic at times. Obviously no photos allowed and it isn’t something I would have photographed anyway.

We went in fully understanding that a donation towards wood for cremation was expected. It was explained to us by the guy who was becoming more and more helpful that people come there to die and his organisation helps them at the end of their life. They are often poor and wood is Rs150/Kg with quite a bit needed each time.

This sounded like a good thing to support so I gave a woman we were introduced to Rs1,000 ($10). Sheila was then told money had to come directly from her hand so she handed over 100. Then we were introduced to another woman and were expected to hand over money again. No way I was funding that much again so we each handed 100 and in return received a WTF withering glare. Now if the money is going into a slush fund to help the poor, why does it matter who we give it to? Just sayin’.

Once outside, the helpful guy who assures us he wasn’t helping is suddenly very helpful “something for me and my family and baby daughter?”. Another 200 and while the value isn’t a lot, I hand it over with gritted teeth feeling like we have been spun another story.

Every one has a story. Another guy the next day told us he has met John Saffran and had been in the Race Around The World series. Despite assuring us he wasn’t at all helpful he also had something to sell.

Back at the ghat we have emerged into the alleys and of course helpful guy is ready continue the tour. Because Sheila feels obliged we end up back at his shop which, as I suspected, has nothing that interests us. I say to helpful guy that we are leaving, we appreciate his help and hand him Rs200. He looks at me and says “is that all?” and while not exactly snapping, I have had enough, decide to say what is on my mind and tell him “you followed us, we told you we didn’t want you to, be thankful you got that” which – shock horror! – worked and he shut up and walked off.

We now have a code phrase that we say to each other, “I think he is trying to help” which means one of us has realised that here we go again.

The case for witches hats. Guy (with supervisor) had just hand painted this line on a busy railway station platform and walked away jut leaving it to dry.

The case for witches hats. Guy (with supervisor) had just hand painted this line on a busy railway station platform and walked away leaving it to dry.

I could go on and on about Varanasi. We spent 3 days here and watched evening services, took a sunset ride on the river, did yoga at dawn, ate at great restaurants, bought clothes, had a massage and finished it with Sheila getting Varanasi Assi, but I didn’t – after almost 6 weeks I think I am now immune.

Oh one more thing. Varanasi also has a baoli and this one was especially cool as it is a working stepwell. There is an active temple adjoining it and women wash their clothes in the water. It is the best maintained of all I have seen.

Baoli, Varanasi

You will be either pleased or disappointed to know that I think I have run out of baoli…but we haven’t checked at our next stop, Bodhgaya.

For Taj

Posted on October 21, 2015 by Steve

Moving quickly now to try to catch up. Generally, booking trains and buses is really easy using the ClearTrip app on my phone, it will give a range of trips available at a range of prices. Found the perfect bus from Delhi to Agra but could not make the payment work, maybe because it is an international debit card…sigh…

Day 3 and off we go to Agra

But we knew the bus name, from where it left and at what time. A local bus ride to the Sarai Kale Kahn bus station and as we step off into a dusty field with a bunch of food vendors and a few buses some guys shout “Agra” ad indicate their bus. It isn’t quite the Uttar Pradesh Transport Company Volvo, but it is clean, looks comfortable, is half the fare and conveniently it is right in front of us so on we get.

The 4 hour trip wasn’t too bad apart from stopping all stations, sometimes in the middle of nowhere along the express way to pick people up or drop them off. Bizarre thing was that rather than half way, after about 3.5hrs, in sight of Agra they decide to do a food and toilet stop, I can only assume the bus guys get a free feed for bringing in a bus load.

At one point along the way I look out the back window and there it is, the UPTC Volvo, right behind us. Yes it looked more comfortable but we were doing the Real India^TM thing.

The Volvo we didn’t catch

Getting off the bus there was a Rs40 charge for the luggage underneath (they get you coming and going) and the usual bit of a kerfuffle because we didn’t have the exact change. One bloke steps out of the throng of auto drivers that has surrounded us and offers to front the Rs40, we decline and sort it out, but this guy speaks English, has a lovely smile and his ploy works. We hire him to recommend and take us to a hotel. This actually turned out to be a wise move on everybody’s part as after a few laughs along the way and getting into the hotel we book him to do the Agra tourist thing the next day.

Non aggro Agra auto driver.

We always try to arrive in a town early morning if going by train, or with a short-ish bus ride like this one early afternoon. So after settling into the superficially OK but actually mediocre hotel we went for a walk to the railway station on a mission. Often with train tickets the trains are overbooked and you start out on a waitlist. I have never missed a train because a waitlist hasn’t been confirmed, but I do like to stack the odds in my favour. I wanted to try to convert our waitlist into an Emergency Quota tickets or Foreign Tourist Quota (haven’t managed this one yet). The train was booked for our trip to Varanasi, but still not confirmed.

A casual walk along dusty roads, past cows, goats, pigs, dogs, burning rubbish and a kid defecating in the street had us quickly falling in love with Agra. We failed to upgrade at the station and out the front asked an auto driver if he could take us to somewhere we could have a beer. Of course he could , for Rs30 – cheap!

It was cheap because we were conned – it was about a 5 minute walk, if that. The bar was dingy, Sheila was the only woman, but the beer was cold.

Cheers beers with street peanuts

The auto rickshaws are one thing, the cycle rickshaws are something else. These poor buggers work hard for less Rupees because they are much slower. It is not uncommon to see them out and pushing up even the slightest of hills. We caught one back to the hotel, I helped push and offered to cycle for the driver, but it would cost him Rupees (cue laughter).

Rickshaw driver doing it tough on the hill, I got out to make the load a bit lighter.

Next day was the big day, one of the highlights we were looking forward to, the Taj Mahal. Everyone who has been there says that the photos, while beautiful don’t do it justice. We had seen a glimpse of it from a long way off the previous day and it was definitely alluring.

An early start, the heat in the middle of the day is pretty stifling. There is quite a strong security presence, metal detectors, a quick frisking (my favourite part). Actually security is apparently strong in lots of places, but it I reckon it is mostly a sham. You walk through metal detectors that beep, no one cares. People are half watching the screens on the x-ray machines. In the streets or at venues police with sub-machine guns are sitting chatting, paying as little attention to the goings on as possible. If the attack they are there to prevent ever happens, I reckon they will also defecate in the streets.

This cop is good, but we have seen others who would shame him for Movember

Once in, the approach to the Taj Mahal is through the main gate which is awesome in its own right.

No, this is not the main gate, but I love this shot.

I made sure I didn’t peek until I had the full view and they were right, it is a most beautiful building. The whole place is very symmetrical, the layout of other buildings, gardens. Even the Taj Mahal itself is exactly the same height as its width.

As we walked towards it, it dawned on me just how big the building is, something you just don’t get in photos. And it is white, glaring white marble

The main approach to the Taj Mahal – note the size of people standing on the forecourt

It is pretty crowded but not to the point of being annoying. Given that Indians get in for Rs20 compared to Rs750 for foreign tourists it is no surprise that the place is packed.

From there to the Red Fort. Please refrain from “not another bloody fort” comments. Instead you can write “not another bloody baoli” comment because tucked away, behind locked gate but broken fence was this beauty with an octagonal well.

Baoli Red Fort, Agra

Octagonal well at baoli, Red Fort Agra

Next stop, Varanasi

Getting ready for a night time marriage parade. I would love to see this in action.

Hello again

Posted on October 19, 2015 by Steve

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Delicious Delhi

Posted on October 17, 2015 by Steve

The first four and a half weeks of my trip all had one purpose. To be in Delhi to meet The Sheila when she arrived from the US. We then get to spend a couple of weeks travelling together before heading home,

My timing had been perfect, I managed to arrive in Delhi on the 12th, determined that the hotel was of adequate standard for entry into India and re-entry into relationship, I even booked a car and driver to get to and from the airport. The incredibleness of Google technology* – did you know you can just type a flight number into search and it will give you the arrival time? – informed me that the plane was 30 minutes early and I arrived at the airport and was in position at the arrivals barrier just after the plane landed . *Conditions apply, as you will see^.

Why is it that India (and other places) try to make life so hard for people. Planes full of passengers are arriving and everyone needs to go through customs and immigration and then out to the world, usually with someone waiting to meet them. Instead of a single exit door where it is impossible to miss the arrivee, adding to the excitement of welcoming your loved one there is the tension of three exit doors and a desperate hope that you are standing at the right one. After watching for a few minutes I notice that 80% of people come out of one door so I find myself a spot and wait. And wait. And wait. After an hour of waiting I am not the slightest bit anxious (kidding), after 90 minutes I ask someone who comes out how long it takes to get through and he said about 30 minutes. I keep reminding myself “India time” but am going through scenarios of what to do next.

Of course, there is more than one happy ending that night and eventually, having had to deal with a malfunctioning fingerprint scanner, The Sheila emerged to something rare in India, a public display of affection. The ride home wasn’t too crazy (it was 2300hrs), the hotel was deemed perfect. Off to a great start.

Next day it was time to be tourists, in a different way for me a) I am not alone any more and b) where I am happy to rough it and be adventurous, The Sheila is likely to not be quite the same. I have a day planned, show her the baoli I have discovered and a temple I have heard about. I have used Google maps to work out the buses to catch, what can possibly go wrong^~? There is sufficient awe at architecture, fear at getting on and off buses that don’t quite come to a full stop and admonishment for walking along the road like the rest of the population, but fun is being had.

Off to the Gurdwara Rakab Ganj Sahib Sikh shrine (not quite the right word) I heard about from a couple of Americans the previous day. I have the bus stop name, we are approaching and the vagueness of whether the conductor and people meant “this stop” or “next stop” meant we miss the stop. Meh, not far to walk back. Serendipity time #1 for The Sheila.

We get off the bus and there is a line of people being handed a plate of food. I suggest we get some, “no it is for poor people” Sheila has already figured out. Some people notice our reluctance and invite us to have some food. A plate of curry and a couple of too hot to hold puris and we are ushered to the only two chairs (they kick a couple of guys off) and while I am kind of used to Honoured Guest status, Sheila gets initiated.

Honoured guest after less than 24hrs.

Best I could figure out was this was something to do with a current festival Navratri and the food was not for the poor, it was for everyone and it was really tasty. Again there is a request for a posing for photos, lots of laughter and we walk off shaking our heads in disbelief at our good fortune missing our bus stop.

HOT! puris, straight from oil to hand.

The yummy curry and a bloke who doesn’t mind being in a photo.

There are lots of temples and shrines in India. I mean LOTS. Just about every block will have a temple of some sort and there are smaller shrines all over the place. Approaching we can hear chanting and we take off our shoes a long way from the doors because no one else is wearing shoes. Up the stairs, I cover my head with provided ‘bandana’ and into a not huge space where the floor is covered by a soft carpet. No words are adequate and like most of these places, the photos don’t do justice. A steady stream of pilgrims come in and kneels before the shrine (you read the links above, right?) to do devotion. Meanwhile there is this small group of musicians alternating with a preacher every five minutes. We sat for quite a while, I found the place mesmerising, trying to work out the subtleties of the rituals (I didn’t), people watching and observing the protocols of the “guards”, bit they weren’t really guarding, it appeared more ceremonial.

Dammit, if someone can figure an easy way to upload videos I will add it here…grrr…

On the way out of the grounds there was quite a bit of coming and going from a hall. We asked what was going on, a wedding! If you ask to go in and look is it technically gate-crashing? We were invited to have our photo taken with the bride and groom and it seemed so bizarre we said no. I now regret breaking my “say yes” rule.

She looked soooo excited by what can only be described as an ordeal, a photo shoot with hundreds of people.

Again I am a few days behind and am considering declaring blog bankruptcy i.e. just skip a few days to catch up. But so much happens. I will instead use more photos than words.

Don’t know the story, they were outside the temple. Maybe associated with the wedding…to remain a mystery

^ We had spent the day hopping around on buses and crossed town, heading back a bus that Google maps and the sign at the bus stop said existed didn’t. Beware the mythical 536! We were a bit stuck, people tried to help us, a storm came through, we caught a bus in the wrong direction at a big intersection, got caught in Delhi rush hour traffic (why is it called rush hour when it is so slow?) and after taking 3 hours to complete a 45min trip we collapsed in our hotel.

Chandni Chowk spice market Delhi

While Sheila relaxed in a warm bath, I did a food run for Rs50 ($1) of street momos that was almost too much for us both to eat. Am I a good husband or what?

Not finished. More to write. 7℅ battery left. Publish!

6 score pachyderms

Posted on October 13, 2015 by Steve

Played the tourist again, hired an auto and did the major haunts. It is the best way to get around a big unfamiliar city where the sights are spread out. Welcome to Jaipur.

It was a nice slow auto ride, not part of the plan, but, when the throttle cable breaks, it is part of the adventure. Poor Yash had to hold the end of the cable with a rag until he could make temporary repairs, then later we stopped at the auto repair workshop…actually it was just a spot by the side of the road more than any sort of workshop, but it was fixed.

There is a weird gene in the Indian population where some people have grey/green eyes, it is a very attractive look…seriously. This guard was a photo favourite

First stop was Amber Fort. I hate to sound blasé, but it is your pretty standard Indian Fort meaning it is big, spectacular, beautiful and quite amazing. This one is also crowded, I am now in the golden tourist triangle – Delhi, Jaipur, Agra – and there were lots of groups of European tourists.

More amazing carved sandstone screens so that people could discreetly watch the goings on below.

But as usual there are surprises. In a corner of a crowded square is a sign explaining about underground water tanks. Nearby is a bored looking guard next to an iron gate. I go to peer through the bars on the gate and bored guard is suddenly as animated as the guards get (not very) and opens the gate for me. Down down down, all alone to the underground water tank, too dark for a photo.

I love this shot looking down onto the main path up from the top of the Fort.

Later I see a half hidden sign pointing to the secret tunnel. The tour guides lead the packs past a doorway, I venture in and alone again I head down down down to a tunnel that was an escape route from the castle if the hordes were attacking…or paparazzi are waiting at the front gate.

All this is great, but no one told me about the elephants. There are 120 of them carrying people in a steady procession up the mountain to the main courtyard past hordes of touts selling textiles, carvings, umbrellas and photos – maybe they should use the tunnel.

I can imagine the same scene in Australia. People would be wearing seatbelts and helmets, the elephants would walk behind a big fence, everything would be so safe. But this is India and you walk with the elephants, mahouts will shout at you if you get in the way.

You really walk with the elephants, close enough to touch them (if they aren’t moving). It was so awesome being so close to an elephant, but being surrounded by so many of them was indescribable.

All this and more during the day plus the fun of tracking down another baoli (stepwell). Not as big or spectacular as the one in Jodhpur, but still remarkable. I have found 3 to visit in Delhi.

Meena ka kund Baoli at Amber Fort Jaipur

Meena ka kund Baoli near the Amber Fort Jaipur

In Pushkar a couple from Argentina had told me about the Hotel Hathroi Palace in Jaipur. A couple of young guys took over the lease in mid 2015 and are turning it into what will be a cool and popular hangout. They already have a great chill space on the roof, are decorating and renovating and if you toss in great personalities it will rock in a year or so. This is an unashamed plug for the place that will hopefully increase their internet profile.

One of the residents around the Monkey Temple

I asked about a concert of some sort, I hadn’t seen any music yet. Yes, there is something on tomorrow night I am vaguely told. Yash to the rescue in his auto, we head off to somewhere, I have no idea where or what.

Turns out to be the very flash Hotel Diggi Palace, very flash indeed. Hmmm…. I am directed down a side street to the servants entrance and a sign announces that on a beautifully warm Jaipur night, the very flash back courtyard has been taken over by the Sufi Music Festival. I can’t believe my luck…again.

I got to see four vastly different performances. The first, with only about 10 other people was very devotional and everyone had to have their heads covered. The words to the “songs” were displayed using PowerPoint – good to see PP is just as bad everywhere in the world. The tabla player was incredible.

Crappy photo but I missed my opportunities, this guy was what I guessed is some sort of poet or performance artist. He certainly dresses well.

One great thing about the event that puzzled me was that all the announcements and banter by musicians was bilingual. First in Hindi, then in English. I was delighted, but being the only westerner there I wondered who the English was for.

The woman was the lead of this trio and had an extraordinary voice. The instrument, I have no idea of the name, rests on her shoulder as you see and is essentially a drone, it is strummed without any work on the neck at all.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DnSk_YnxIjQ

I didn’t want to mid another photo op, so I went down the front, in the VIP area, having earlier expressed my dismay at being turned back when I boldly tried to walk in at the beginning of the night. “But I am a VIP” I huffed and puffed to much laughter. This time I simply went to the other end of the fence where it was completely open. Down to the front, I sit on an empty VIP couch in row two, but is effectively the front row at this spot, a couple of photos, perfect. Great music, I make myself comfortable. I have the whole couch to myself, a bit further down some real VIPs including government ministers are being fawned over and photographed.

I am very comfortable now and regret leaving my bag and sandles back in the cheap seats. I consider going and getting them and making the move permanent, but have learned in the past that when you are scamming, it is good to not draw attention to yourself. Eventually a group of real VIPs join me on my couch, completely spoiling my premium experience by talking, using their phones, not clapping and just being on my couch. I think I may appear in a photo in a newspaper and have half of India speculating about who I am.

The headliner was great. An apparently well known young woman who performed contemporary rock Sufi music and the crowd went off…in an Indian way. I can’t speak for where you live, but had this been in Australia the audience would have been on their feet about half way through the set, dancing, clapping, singing. Not in India.

The video is early in her show, I got caught up in the event and as well as crowd watching forgot to shoot more video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1WglOOM5uo

Despite bursting with joy and excitement cheering and singing, people would jump up, dance for about 5 seconds then reluctantly sit down again. This was happening all over the audience. Despite all the fantastic energy, there weren’t even people dancing around the sides or back of the crowd. I was truly hoping she would invite everyone to get up so it would really go off. Unfortunately I didn’t think to video towards the end, so this will have to do.

Eventually as the final song built to the usual concert crescendo they couldn’t hold back and for the last 30 seconds the place erupted. At every other similar concert you and I have been to there are then screams and claps and whoops for an encore and of course the act obliges with their 3 pre planned encore songs.

But this is India, we just went home.

Footnote: never buy a tablet if you plan on producing content, they are for consumption. This post has been particularly painful to edit and has taken 2 days to (hopefully) get right.

Prayer by donation

Posted on October 11, 2015 by Steve

There is no railway station in Pushkar, getting there involves a 1 hour, Rs14 (30¢ – no kidding) bus trip from Ajmer. Being very mindful of dates, needing to meet Sheila in Delhi on the 13th, I decided I could spend the night in Ajmer and check out Ajmer Sharif Dargah, the shrine (Dargah) of sufi saint, Moinuddin Chishti.

Entrance to the Daragh

My trip seems to have unintentionally evolved into visiting the holiest places of most of the religions. But it is easy to do because they are spectacular and usually the major “attraction” in a city.

If not for the Dargah, I wouldn’t recommend Ajmer, crowded with pilgrims, way more beggars than I have seen anywhere, a bit grotty and because Hinduism doesn’t seem to dominate, not many veg restaurants.

The Dargah was 5 minute walk from my hotel, so it was really crazy in the streets, pilgrims heading to the shrine. At the entrance I balked, it was quite intimidating, there are jostling people, security – it wasn’t at all welcoming. But I was there so I approached a guard and asked if it was OK to go in. He indicated another bloke and I was put into the hands of the beautiful Ajmed.

Fabulous passionate volunteer guide

Ajmed speaks excellent English and showed me around the complex, including into the inner sanctum, where I would never have ventured by myself. We had a long discussion as we walked and he seems a bit jaded with some aspect of his job or the people or the place and is quite open about it – I suggested his views were quite provocative, he agreed.

It was the end of school time and he likes to be home for his daughters, so I was invited to join him for tea, another serendipitous moment. You know those movies where people head down a maze of narrow alleys in a foreign city? The walk to his house was like that, no way would I be able to find my way back unaided.

I forget the daughter’s names I only know they beat me easily playing ludo on a phone. Both gorgeous, good English speakers, getting an education and with a vision for their future. I had only known him for an hour, but Ajmed’s influence was obvious. Oh, also he is an artist and his house walls are covered in his work.

Next morning to Pushkar, famous for a camel fair that is not until the end of November unfortunately. This was the first tricky “find the bus” mission I have had. By asking numerous people I work out where the bus goes from…sort of. I ask the conductor (every bus has one) “Pushkar?” and he kind of signs to let me know to catch his bus to the bus station for the real bus.

The real bus* is essentially a local bus with no English destination board or anything luxurious like that. But it is the right bus and in another reenactment of a movie scene, we are speeding along a winding road through (admittedly not very high) mountains with cars overtaking on the wrong side of the road approaching blind corners.

* not actual bus, for illustration purposes only

Pushkar is a tourist trap, but in a nice sense. It is the Byron Bay of Rajasthan. The town surrounds another holy place, a lake believed to have formed at the beginning of the world. The lake is surrounded by ghats where there is a non stop stream of people praying and bathing. This is all facilitated by many donation boxes and booths. Reminder, while it is a tourist attraction for us westerners, for most people it is a serious pilgrimage.

At dusk prayer time this incredible machine was going.

I wonder if there are Indian musicians bemoaning the fact that they have been replaced by a machine.

Like Byron, there are loads of Western tourists in Pushkar, for some reason many from Israel, but last night on the hotel rooftop Australia, UK, Norway, Argentina, Germany and Israel were all represented.

It is worth mentioning that as I got off the bus there was the usual “Please, my hotel” mob and the offer of a free two wheeler ride to a place near the lake with WiFi and Rs400 ($9) rooms got me. Another great hotel, good food, close to everywhere.

Nearby is yet another holy place, a rare Brahmin temple where I had a whistle blown at me for taking a photo. Hey, I had seen someone else so assumed it was OK.

The temple is covered in inscriptions memorialising family members.

Now in Jaipur, into Delhi tomorrow. I keep hearing stories about how crowded Delhi is, but they all come from people who flew into there. Hopefully after having been here for 4 weeks it will just seem like India.

Some random photos to finish and (shock horror) be more or less up to date.

Jaipur hotel at night. Some young guys have taken it over 2 months ago. In a year, when they have finished renovating and decorating, this place is going to seriously rock.

Jaipur hotel at night. Some young guys took it over 2 months ago. In a year, when they have finished renovating and decorating, this place is going to seriously rock.

I’m sure this water is a legit Fosters product. Tastes better than the beer.

E tier sleeper on an Indian train. It is actually not that bad, but you would need to experience why.

3 tier sleeper on an Indian train. It is actually not that bad, but you would need to experience why.

There are always kids happy to pose for a photo. But to get fun shots like this you play first, then ask for a photo ;o)