2016 – India – Page 2 – Travels

Bang! Bang! Woosh!

Posted on October 27, 2016 by Steve

Location: Pushkar

Hotel: Still at Paramount Palace

Tying off a few loose ends again.

This is my new hotel room having moved upstairs.

It isn’t huge but it is comfortable, clean, quiet and cheap. And unlike the room I was in downstairs, the bed is soft.

Those water plants are also called singara and here is a bit more detail on how they look individually also peeled and both out of focus. But I couldn’t reshoot because it was my last one and I ate it.

The other day as I was walking I happened to notice a fellow foreigner walking in the opposite direction. Later while I was having breakfast, there he was again on the opposite side of the road. Still later I am sitting having some chai and he sits down beside me “I think I know you from somewhere”. His name is Claudio and he lives a few suburbs away from me in Ashmore. We can’t manage to work out the connection and as always, agree it is a small world.

I started chatting to a woman today who is sort of from Perth via a few other places but now sort of lives here, depending on visas.

She told me that the Camel Fair is in just 3 weeks. This is great information, I thought it was late November. But now what to do? Should I come back to Pushkar for what is likely a crazy crowded event or should I head somewhere else? Should I miss one the largest camel fairs in the world that likely has incredible photo opportunities for the sake of somewhere different? Quandary.

While we were talking a group of gorgeous young Indian women approached us. I have seen them many times walking around. They reach out to shake your hand and while I am not sure what happens next, I can guarantee it will be a hustle of some sort. The last couple of times we have passed I have ostentatiously shoved my hand deep in my pocket…cue laughter.

They wanted me to buy them some chai – it is only R10 for a serve. At this point I digress slightly to satisfy the curiosity of those who know I never drink hot drinks like tea or coffee and rarely will I have a hot chocolate. I have started to enjoy a couple of drinks of chai a day. It is only a small serve, which helps, but it is real social grease here. Sit and talk for a while and someone will order chai.

So I order 3 glasses of chai (I had just had my 3rd, enough already) and sort of abandoned the Aussie woman, this was a rare treat to interact with Indian women. Being street hustlers they are quite bold and their English is pretty good so we had a lot of fun talking and hearing stories.

A word about stories: I have a story that becomes easier to tell the more I do. If someone asks about my bad neck it is hard enough to explain Ankylosis Spondylitis to someone who speaks English well. So my story is that I had a two wheeler (motor cycle) accident. It is easier and gets nods of understanding even if i have to mime it.

One story the woman on the left tells when I ask who looks after her 3 children is that her husband broke his leg and can’t work so he stays home. Later I ask the shopkeeper if he knows if it is true but he doesn’t and in the end, neither do I.

We are having so much fun I am offered a gift of having my hands hennaed – I am not sure if this is unprecedented. The gifting I mean, I know have never had my hands done before. While there are working I order more chai, woman orders some beedis and a loaf of bread – it is awful looking white sponge bread – that she dips in her chai. Meanwhile my hands are taking shape.

I smudged this one a little

Note: you can’t both hands in photo you are taking

Pretty cool I reckon. They want to continue the conversation in a lovely restaurant but I twigged that it will end up costing me for 3 lunches and despite them trying hard, I stick to my no. This becomes their cue to leave, after all they do need to make a living.

I go to pay and of course I have to pay for the beedis and bread as well as the chai :o) It comes to a total of R90, less than $2, and is well worth it.

I wonder if they care about smoking near the fireworks shop.

The photos of my hands were taken early while I still have all my fingers. I found the fireworks shop and for R35 I am ready to be king of the local kids who have already let me set off a couple of theirs.

A bit disappointed in the big ones, they look impressive but are only about 75% full. We shall see if they still have an impressive bang.

Later: we survived. The big ones despite looking bigger than they really are, are impressive and get the respect they deserve from everyone involved.

Though what a ripoff the rockets were. The box says rocket bomb implying an explosion in the air. Sure they went off, but like our prime minister, they returned out to be a fizzer.

I am publishing this now as I walk out the door for a bus for Udaipur and the Diwali edition.

Let there be light.

Finally, the plan kicks in

Posted on October 26, 2016 by Steve

Location: Pushkar

Hotel: Paramount Palace – not a palace at all, but has some of the best views over Pushkar, is on a quiet lane 3 minutes walk from the market and is R400 per night

Reminder: $AUD1 = R50

Like last trip, my plan was to not really have much of a plan. The loose idea was Rajasthan for most of the time and a handful of places, each for a while. It might be a bit naive, but I was hoping to embed myself in a community, even if briefly, and get to know some people and be known.

A not too bad bus trip from Jaipur to Ajmer made more enjoyable by being seated next to Francois, a guy from Quebec. Hmmm, as I type this I realise how easy it is to shove the less pleasant parts of an event into the didn’t actually happen corner of my memory.

For a start although the directions to the bus stop were good, on arrival Jai Ambay Travelling Agent wasn’t to be found and nearby businesses seemed to have no idea. Eventually one guy I asked pointed vaguely down to where I had been and said “bus”. Stupid me, how could I have missed that this was the Jai Ambay bus.

There was no one near the bus, which was supposed to leave at 11:30 and at about 11:20 I asked a guy if he was going to Ajmer. This got the attention of a bloke sitting a ways off, he just happened to be the driver 😛 and this wasn’t the Ajmer bus anyway. Oh, Great!

It turns out that Jai Ambay’s office was right there, hiding in plain sight – assuming you regard a hole in the wall set well back from the street as plain sight.

So the bus does leave in 5 minutes, only not from here. I am hastily led about 500m through traffic, over a busy road, and past other buses to the Ajmer bus which is about to leave. This is where I meet Francois.

Nobody mentioned to either of us that the bus didn’t actually go in to Ajmer, it went past. Luckily the conductor was on the ball and let us know to get off. Since I had done the Ajmer to Pushkar bus last time and knew it was only about R20, the R1,000 asked by an auto driver was not even considered. R200 to the bus station between me and Francois seemed over priced but was about our only option. In fact it was a pretty long way and the 200 ended up seeming quite reasonable, though likely still double what a local would pay.

The Pushkar bus, which only cost R15 turned out to be a hoot. It is only about 45 minutes or so over a hill on a very winding road. We were right down the back amongst a group of about 20 young guys who spoke enough English that we could communicate. I pulled out balloon animals and had them laughing at the guy who couldn’t blow one up, then impressed them when I did.

What does one make for a bunch of 20 something blokes having fun? A dick hat of course. The people down the front must have been wondering what the hell was going on down the back.

Jumping back to Jaipur, my main mission on this trip apart from having fun was to buy some carpets. I had looked at quite a few and wanted to be able to say mission accomplished and get it out of the way.

Sam from Afghanistan took me to a factory where he was honest about receiving 2% commission. I don’t begrudge that for anyone earning about R600 a day.

I spent about 2 hours looking, choosing, haggling, working out details and settled on 6 rugs I likely paid way too much for, but they are going to look great in the house.

Thanks for the collage Google photos

Needless to say, the photos don’t do the colours justice at all. the one on the right in the middle is actually a lovely green that changes depending on which end you look at it. The biggest carpet (top right) wasn’t quite the right size so they are going to make one specially. It will take 3 months so if you were planning to visit especially to run your toes through them, hold off.

Someone introduced me to these things, the best I can find out is they are called water plants – I just was told the Hindu name, but couldn’t get it spelled, sounded like tingara.. They grow under water and are in season right now, R10 for a bag. To eat them you peel the thin skin and inside is a nut sort of thing that is not unlike a water chestnut. Hmmm…maybe that’s what they are, not convinced though.

They are really good and I buy a bag every day eating them as I wander around. Yesterday I threw the skin of one in a gutter in the market thinking a cow would eat it and someone shouted at me to not throw it in the street.

This deserves some background: there is no such thing as a public rubbish bin in India. Closest is that there will always be a bin at a food stall. Add to that, people openly and freely toss their rubbish from cars and buses or where they are standing, no matter what they are getting rid of. While I would never throw plastic on the ground, I don’t have a major problem with organic matter like fruit skin.

But I had been rebuked and I was interested. The guy, who is the owner of a shop, explained that some merchants are trying to keep the market clean and he is working hard to do that around his shop. I apologised, promised to not do it again and we had a long chat about rubbish and all sorts of things.

Now we are friends. I walked past a few times later in the day and always said hello and had a brief chat. This morning he spotted me before I realised I was at his shop – they all look very similar – and called out to me. We sat for an hour talking, drinking chai and just hanging out. This is exactly what I was hoping for.

It isn’t really that hard to create these relationships. As I walk with my water plants I freely offer one to someone who engages in some way. I had met eyes with a holy man seated by the road as I walked past him. I turned back and offered the bag of fruit? nuts? and there he was eating his own. We both laughed and I am sure next time I see him we will say namaste again.

There are a couple of falafel stalls next to each other (they are both really good) and I was talking to the guy behind the cooker in one. He pointed to my water plants and said one for me? but of course. Quick as a flash and without really even thinking about it I pointed to a falafel ball and said one for me? he looked surprised but could hardly say no and his friends roared with laughter, I think at him not expecting it.

They have a sign Oh my god. WOW! about the falafels so we shouted that a few times as I ate it, me maybe going a bit over the top :o), but it must have been OK because they offered me another falafel later in the day. Another group of “friends”.

For Bunty

In some ways I am a typical bloke…not many I don’t think…but I am not big on shopping, especially for clothes. So I was quite intrigued by the fact that I was interested in some shoes that are on sale in a number of stalls.

These are no ordinary shoes, check out the ones on the bottom row to the left of the…umm…delightful orange sandals. Ajeet was wearing something like these and I thought at the time they are quirky enough that I wanted a pair.

I did a lot of research on this. Went to pretty much every shoe stall in the market, trying to keep track of which was my favourite shoes and how much they were. Sometimes the stars align and it happened that my favourite pair also turned out to be the cheapest and about the best made. It is possible they are camel leather.

I could describe them, but I think it best I let my specially selected male super model show them off – he looks after the roof top restaurant at the hotel – I couldn’t do any better.

He’s not wearing them in this shot

The focus of Pushkar – beyond the markets – is an important temple and the lake surrounded by ghats. Read about it last year. Every evening there are ceremonies in several spots on the ghats. Prior to that last night was a rooftop drumming session. I was invited to join in and would have loved to, but I am uncomfortable sitting on the ground.

Hinduism is quite fascinating. While we Westerners regard it as a religion, it is clearly more than that. I’ve had a few conversations with people and to them Hinduism isn’t something they believe in, it just is. It is completely pervasive of Indian culture and society in a way that is hard to understand. I have mentioned the number of shrines, on every corner, in fields, by the road, in shops, on mountains, everywhere. It is not unusual to see people make some sort of devotional hand motion as they drive past a specific temple.

And then there is the cows. There’s a lot of them in Pushkar. To the Hindu, the cow represents all other creatures. Hindus believe that all living creatures are sacred—mammals, fishes, birds. The cow is more, a symbol of the Earth.

I was sitting on a Ghat after the drumming, watching the evening ceremony when I get a sloppy nudge from behind. This beautiful thing was standing over me and unlike most cows (Gai, in Hindi) it seemed to like having is ears scratched. Yes I know it is a bull, but it is still a cow to me.

But it is a sacred/hate relationship between humans and bovines. Cows somehow know they are special and don’t mind taking advantage of it. They stop traffic, lay where they want, shit everywhere, try to get away with eating from vendors if no one is paying attention. So they are slapped, yelled at, hit with sticks, have their tails twisted, all to move them away or along. I should add that the hitting etc isn’t hard, just to get them going. I’ve done it a few times myself.

Tonight as I was eating another great meal, quite late, a man came and moved about half a dozen cows (does that count as a herd?) that were lying in a corner. They looked out of the way to me, but he got them up and moved them down the street.

Five minutes later the same cows were being driven back the way they had come by another man. I am not sure if this goes on all night, back and forth, or the cows get the idea and go up a side street.

It isn’t a fuzzy photo, that’s exactly how the mirror looks.

I can get a bit lazy shaving and after a week it starts to get annoying. Barber must have read my mind – or seen my face – and for R100 I was shaved three times and had my eyebrows massaged.

I look so good, I might put on my new shoes.

I did some things…

Posted on October 23, 2016 by Steve

Location: Leaving Jaipur on an overnight trip to a village that apparently has 350 stepwells!

It is worth mentioning that the other day, when I realised the bus into Jaipur was only a couple of blocks from the hotel I was heading for – I track where we are on Google maps – I went to jump off as we stopped at some traffic lights. The driver said “No get off in street”. I wish I knew enough Hindi to respond with “Are you the same guy who drove on the wrong side of a divided highway, into oncoming traffic, to get to the restaurant for our 30 minute break?”. But I don’t.

To continue the “sleeping anywhere” theme.

I don’t get how anyone could get any sleep on the seat of a cycle rickshaw, on a busy road, in the sun. But I suppose if you work as hard as these guys do…

Started the day with a sweet lassi at a shop I remember from last time here. I don’t know what they do differently to all the other lassi wallahs, but theirs are great. I noted last time and it is worth repeating as it takes some getting used to, that with street vendors you eat or drink and when you are done, then you pay.

I like this because it means I hang around rather than eat or drink and walk. And when you hang around, invariably someone will talk to you. In this case it is the guy who owns the restaurant next door. His English is pretty good and we banter for a while and mentions Australians are very tall, I explain that I am proof that isn’t true. Plenty of laughs. I tell him I may come back for a meal…I never promise as I never know what will come up.

Crossing the road to walk in the shade the regular stream of auto drivers are hopeful of taking me somewhere, anywhere. One young guy is quite friendly and wants to practice his English, Mohammed Sam from Afghanistan – sounds like the title of a kid’s book. When he finds out I am from Australia, can you guess the first thing he says? “Australians are very tall”. It makes me wonder if there is some sort of conspiracy afoot.

We agree to meet in the evening for a beer and we end up at a rooftop hotel chatting and enjoying the view and fireworks going off all over. And then his friend showed up…I think he was really drunk, maybe he was a bit crazy too. But he was a pain and not entirely coherent.

You know that moment when you have started to trust someone and enjoy them and suddenly a thought enters your mind “I wonder if these guys are setting me up?” and you can’t unthink that thought. It was time to bail and Mohammed was actually apologetic for his friend. [Update a couple of days later] Stupid me, I gave him my whatsapp info…he is really keen to take me to a carpet factory…really keen. I can always block him I suppose.

I have am idea for a dance beat and am collecting photos of the back of trucks for the video. We shall see if it !materialises at all.

I have an idea for a dance beat and am collecting photos of the back of trucks for the video. We shall see if it materialises at all.

I love wandering the streets of whatever city I am in, turning down random lanes and heading wherever looks or sounds interesting. I was in the old part of Jaipur known as the pink city. Down a few alleys heading more or less in the direction of a bazaar.

I glanced in a door and couldn’t believe my eyes.

Definitely not a Jewish god

These guys are 2m in length…yeah, yeah, head to toe. Made of marble, and according to the guy who came out they make them right there, though the place didn’t look dusty enough…but who knows. There was a couple of guys hand finishing some cast brass temple gods. Another tortuous manual job, sitting on the floor, steadying the piece with their toes, filing and sanding by hand. But it was the statues in the photo that pricked my attention.

Jumping all over the place chronologically, after the beer I wandered directly over the road to the restaurant I mentioned earlier. I was indeed the honoured guest, actually I was the only guest in a 50 seat room. This being my about my 60th day in India (in total) I have eaten a lot of Indian food. But the vegetarian jalfrezi they served me was possibly the best Indian meal in my life. I was glad I couldn’t eat it all so there was some for breakfast.

I’m going back there tonight and am faced with a quandary. Do I have the same again, it was so good, or do assume all their meals are this good and try something different…only to discover the jalfrezi is their specialty. Life is so tough. (In the end I was too tired and ate in – still excellent)

This little girl was begging from cars stopped at traffic lights. My instinct is to give something to kids who are doing something more than just asking for money. They might be selling balloons or picking up plastic rubbish for recycling or anything, I will give them R10 and not take the balloon (or the plastic).

It’s easy to see why she was interesting. I gave her R10 not planning to take a photo, then changed my mind. When I asked her to come a little closer, out of the shade, what seemed like an automatic response was to put her hand out for money again 🙁 Then I showed her the photo and the look of surprise was great! I don’t think she had any idea of the result of what was plastered on her face.

I am sure I have left out some stuff, this was 2 days ago now. If you have read this far you get to hear the amazeballs story…of the trip most likely, and I have only been gone 1 week out of 5.

A month or 3 ago some how the Chand Baori came into my consciousness and despite baolis being so ‘last trip’ they are still fascinating. I mentioned to Ajeet, the hotel owner, that I wanted to go, asking how to get there and he suggested a different trip, overnight, inclusive of everything – food, accommodation, snacks, drinks, everything – for R4,000 ($80).

A tour? I never do tours but it sounded like an idea and we agreed to leave on Thursday. He has included an Italian and a French woman and the four of us head off…I have ~~pretty much~~ no idea where we are going.

I already know one of the things I am looking forward to and that is being able to say “stop here”. In the photo above we have just been given some peanuts by the people harvesting them.

The drive out of Jaipur is an experience in itself dealing with Indian traffic. Pure insanity, but somehow it all works with no aggression. The trip to Toda Rai Singh where there is a bunch of baoli takes a couple of hours. One baoli is in very good condition and reasonably popular. Because we have no real itinerary, we hang there for at least an hour sitting, talking, exploring.

This is a different baoli…

Speaking of popular, i feel for my poor female companions. They constantly attract a following of men tagging along at a distance they might feel doesn’t make their tagging along obvious but only helps to accentuate it. Fuck creepy Clowns, this is creepy men. Yeah they are only a little creepy, but I can see how and why it gives the girls the shits. We even played a little game drawing them from one place to another and back again.

This is that baoli ;o)

They mostly don’t hang this close, this was a photo op, but any opportunity to come close to talk to Ajeet is taken. It is funny in a sad way.

We go from here to several other not as spectacular but still interesting baoli in Toda Rai Singh. There’s also a quite amazing very old temple that was destroyed by one attacking horde or another. They have taken pieces of the wreckage and built a makeshift structure around the idol. Why didn’t I take any photos here?

And then to a quiet quiet peaceful temple complex around a lake. This is the quintessential there is no way photos can do this place justice place. In photos the pinks aren’t pink enough, they can’t convey the stillness and peace, something so hard to find in India. We sit for another hour soaking the place up. Are you getting a sense of the pace of this trip?

By now it is about 4PM and we climb up a pretty rough track to another abandoned temple. But they aren’t really abandoned. The structure is often really dilapidated, but there is always some one maintaining the inner sanctum, so to speak. This will probably be in bad shape too, but more from the many many years of love and devotion to whatever god is represented.

To set the scene, it is now late afternoon, the light is beautiful? See the series of arches stretching to the right? On top is a pathway that leads out like a huge diving board giving 300 degree views of the city, the other 60 degrees is the temple and the hill.

Spectacular? An understatement. We sit here watching the sun disappear into the haze before it finally sets, out of sight. But don’t let me spoil the moment, it is beautiful and we are having the time of our lives. Laughing, exploring, hanging out, interacting as best we can with the locals. This is an untour of the highest order.

Who thought to put an LED torch in the back of phones? Thanks. But for that the trip back down in the dark would have led to a claim on my travel insurance for death or permanent injury.

I want to learn how to tie a turban like this. It was standard dress in this village.

Then we head off for the 2 hours drive to Bundi for the night stopping at a roadside restaurant for another great meal, ending up at Visham Hotel with a great host family and the biggest rooms I have seen in India.

Will I break the next day into another post? Nah, too much to tell.

Breakfast in the rooftop restaurant of Visham includes monkeys scooting past and over the rooftops, views of the fort, cow watching and 2 fried eggs on toast done to perfection…you don’t know tricky it is to get any Western food that doesn’t have a unique Indian touch. I am reminded of French Toast in Bodh Gaya which was essentially a piece of toast wrapped in a pancake.

This man has a little store that sells among other things paan, which is in all those hanging packets. Paan is made from betel nut leaves and can probably best be described as the Indian version of Red Bull. I didn’t realise this, I thought it was more about the taste than anything…naive idiot westerner.

At some point during the previous day Ajeet bought some paan and after the initial oral shock of bitterness and something I can’t even name, it became quite a pleasant taste, and there is a gentle buzz. Apparently it can be addictive, not for me though I am happy I tried it once – I tried it last trip too and couldn’t hold it in my mouth for more than a few seconds.

Are you getting the idea of how this untour is going?

We spend the morning touring the fort, including a fantastic tour of the really old paintings in the women’s quarters, with the “caretaker” taking lots of time and giving us wonderfully detailed information about the stories. It was nice to see that this is all being protected behind lock and key and he was mindful we didn’t touch anything, I hope he is passing on his extensive knowledge.

Off we head to the next mysterious location. Along the way, as well as stopping for chai, snacks and photos, we stop at what I think would be called a bhang shop. Essentially it is a doorway with a bit of space the size of your toilet room. Bloke has various sizes balls of pulverised cannabis leaves for sale. And it seems that is all he sells, another “how on earth does he make a living” moment. Note that this is perfectly legal and government regulated (but how much?) in India.

Ajeet purchases a R60 serving, about the size of a golf ball. For R10 the portion is about the size of a grape. It is mixed with some buttermilk and flavouring and looks and smells like the average Australian green smoothie – scrumptious. Being about 11 in the morning I decline my own serve but I have a taste, nothing special but quite salty from the flavouring sachet. Pauline finds it too salty to drink her small glass, about 1/5 the size of a full serve so I gallantly offer to finish it off.

We turn off along a back road worse than most I have seen, deeper we go along an even worse (if that is possible) dirt road until we end up at a barren looking spot with a stream running through it. I am feeling pretty good by now.

This man is a local villager, just finished his washing. You can see the sort of landscape

We walk over to the edge, intrigued by a lush valley we can see below. And there – we are speechless – is a spectacular waterfall, the last thing I expected to see.

We have brought some flowers to give to the holy man at the Bhimlat Mahadev Temple we must pass through as we wend our way to the bottom of the valley. Had this been smooth going it would have been much easier now that the taste was sneaking up on me.

This place was so unexpectedly beautiful it was hard to take in. On one side the roaring waterfall, on another, the rocky, rubbish strewn path back out, on another side a tranquil lush meandering stream, a complete contrast to the waterfall that was its source.

We had the place to ourselves, apart from the monkeys who apparently liked to pinch bags and things. We put all our stuff into one bag and then put in on the ground next to a rock and it blended right into all the rubbish (you probably think I am kidding).

The water was beautiful to swim in despite the rocks being treacherously slippery and I am still in awe, mostly because it is so out of character compared with the surrounding landscape. By now I am extremely thankful that I didn’t go for the R60 serving if my state of almost complete incapacity was from a small glass.

This is our almost last stop, there is still a meal to be had on the way home and by the time we get back it is about 7PM, we’ve been gone a day and a half, great value. I am still cruising.

But more than just good value for Rupees, it is one of those trips of a lifetime…within a trip of a lifetime. Some things I will never forget and this is one of them. If you are coming to Jaipur, find Hathroi Tours on Facebook. You really should do one of the 9 trips on which Ajeet can take you.

Rishikesh seemed like a good idea, but I would have to go through Delhi. So instead I leave tomorrow for Pushkar for a few days then to Udaipur for Diwali on Sunday.

I will tempt fate by saying that I haven’t gotten sick at all. Last time there was an initial WTF? from my guts, his trip it is like “oh, this again”.

And I bought some carpets.

So, you think you work hard…

Posted on October 19, 2016 by Steve

Location: Jaipur

Hotel: Hathroi Palace – one of the cooler places I have ever stayed, anywhere. And my ego is stroked to excess because the guys who own it remember me and give me a wonderful welcome.

Although I am in Jaipur, there are a few loose ends to tie up from Agra.

The efficiency of Indian Railways is only rivalled by that of the post office. I have worked out the railways mostly, this is my first experience with India post.

When in Agra last year a Sheroes calendar seemed too heavy to lug around, we regretted it later. This time I have less space so to keep The Sheila happy I decided to post it from Agra, I also had a letter to mail to a dear friend.

I don’t know how far apart Indian post offices are, but very conveniently there is one about 50m down the road from the hotel. I guess the entrance should have given me a hint, but I was fooled by the modern looking facade…and a facade it was.

As anyone who has visited India will tell you, a scene like this is the norm.

Behind the counter are a man and a woman and lots of paperwork, minimal technology. It looks like post offices are also bank agencies and their manual system of recording deposits takes me back to primary school and bringing in my bank book every week.

It takes about 30 minutes to work out how much 2 items will cost and how to deal with the conundrum of Australian post codes only having 4 digits, but their form has space for 6.

Some scratching of heads and consulting with colleagues – I suggest putting 2 zeros in front, but that seems too easy – and it is all sorted out, the postage of the calendar exceeding the cost of said calendar. The geek inside me was secretly delighted that instead of the mass of colorful stamps I was hoping for, they print a label…on a dot matrix printer.

I am not sure if you can do a poll in WordPress, but I wish I could open one for votes on whether you think the mail will ever arrive or not.

I can’t remember if I mentioned, I am also here on a mission, to replace some rugs in the house, I am hoping to bypass retail and go straight to the factory. Another near hotel experience, 10 minutes walk away is diamond carpets. I walk in expecting a shop, but it is the factory!

Honoured guest I am – and potential customer – so I am given a tour by the manager, offered cold water, given free rein to talk to people and take photos. I am truly gobsmacked by what you can’t see from the entrance where there are 13 people working at 6 looms.

In the back and downstairs in this deceptively large building are dozens of people doing work that I am not even sure how to describe. Tedious? Mundane? Manual? All of the above and more. According to manager they have 200 workers, including another factory.

Take the guys above. They are sitting, going over this carpet centimetre by centimetre looking for loose threads, long threads, wonky threads and who knows what else. I had them show me a spot they were going to fix, I couldn’t pick anything wrong, but apparently there was something to snip.

As an aside, I was in a shop looking at rugs, feeling out prices and learning a bit (it is easy to get ripped off) when a man delivered a bespoke rug that someone had commissioned. It was absolutely beautiful, a simple geometric design on a rich emerald green background and had taken him 3 months make. They wouldn’t tell me the price.

The women below, and you can’t see them all, are hand stitching the carpet edges and putting the fringe along the ends. It was amazing.

I wanted to talk prices but didn’t have my list of sizes with me and offered to come back in the morning before I leave for Jaipur. When I return the manager isn’t in for the day (did he not know that the previous afternoon?) and the people are completely unhelpful. What a contrast.

You should have seen how fast she could tie those knots, I am sure they are paid by their output. It can be hard to be objective about photos. This one tells a story and will bring back strong memories for me. I love it (not withstanding that some light on her face would have improved it), but is it interesting if you weren’t there?

Walking back to the hotel I see this. I don’t think it needs an explanation. Another example of the amazing work people do.

On the way to the bus I spot this

I wonder if he dreamed of filling them with helium

It’s a lousy photo through the front window of the bus (Tall Boy has a philosophy of not taking photos from a moving vehicle. I have adopted that, but this was too good), but we were overtaken by these people doing about 90kph.

What could possibly go wrong?

I also had fun at the rest stop during the trip. After watching the cook for a while I got to take a chappati out a tandoor oven – how the cook puts his hand in is beyond me. Then made all the workers laugh with a couple of magic tricks.

It dawned on me last night that all the interactions I have, all the games, all the laughs, it is very rare to interact with a woman. This is now going to be the subject of close observation to see if I can figure it out, but I think I know the unfortunate truth.

If you’ve wondered why I came back, I hope this post has given you a sense…I should add that apart from the post office, everything else happened yesterday! And it was a typical day in India.

I think I will head to Rishikesh for Diwali, one of the biggest festivals in India and around which I planned this trip. I plan to buy and let of a huge box of fireworks :o)

Cows and people, they’ll sleep anywhere

I am living a Bollywood version of Alien

Posted on October 18, 2016 by Steve

Still in Agra at the Bonfire Hostel

So much happens in a day that it is truly hard to know where to begin. I’ll do this in chronological order and hope I leave room for a punch line.

Although I often wake at 0530 it is a time I regard as stupid o’clock and I wish my body would cut it out. Today I wake up before stupid o’clock because the plan is sunrise at the Taj Mahal.

There are very few things that make me uncomfortable in life. One of them is being locked inside somewhere. It doesn’t exactly freak me out, but when someone locks a screen door – I am talking with a key – I look for an alternative escape route. So coming downstairs this morning and finding the door to the street locked from the outside…

Auto driver was there as agreed. I think he may have slept in his vehicle right out the front 😛 Should I go into the story of how the hostel will pay the auto driver and he still tried to hit me for a fare? Crap, I just did. He wanted R50 for a R20 ride! That is $1, outrageous!

I am actually being generous with drivers and other people. I will haggle from R50 down to R30 just because I want them to know I know I am being ripped off, then I will give them R50 anyway.

The idea of the Taj at sunrise (0645) is not original. There is a line for tickets but in true Indian style, no one is selling, they start at about 0600. It is 1km to the entrance gate and I avoid the overcrowded shuttles and walk. It is a full moon and I am rewarded with this shot of the East Gate.

There’s nothing like waiting in line, and there is a pair of lines outside the closed gate. One for men and one for women. Oh and then there are sub lines for foreigners who have paid R1000 and Indians who have paid R40. Guess which one moves faster?

The gate finally opens at 0625 and as I approach the Taj I realise that given the smog, sunrise is going to be a very different experience to seeing one in the desert air at Uluru.

My challenge this visit is to try to take some different photos to last time. I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but it actually isn’t easy to find new ways to photograph this incredible building.

You aren’t allowed to wear shoes in the mausoleum area – you did know that the Taj Mahal was built by the Shah Jahan to house the tomb of his favourite wife, right? Premium payers are given a bottle of water and shoe covers (I chose barefoot – why wouldn’t you?).

Indians get to use the free service below and then are badgered into paying a tip after watching their shoes being treated with disdain.

I liked this guy

It was lovely being there, spending most of the time sitting, people watching, Taj Mahal staring, crowd avoiding.

On the way out I stopped for breakfast and had a yummy paratha, why isn’t my Indian food ever this good? Sitting watching the world go by, this tractor loaded with women pulled up.

I may have gotten this wrong, but it seems that only poor women cover their head with their sari. I guessed correctly that these women were here to work. Pretty soon they are doing about the most meaningless job I may ever have seen, they were cleaning out some of the dirt between the cobble stones on road! Not like it is being pulled up or anything like that, just making that space between the stones deeper. But at least they are earning about R80 a day. I think this is a good thing.

I don’t often set up a shot, but these boys were happy to oblige.

Next mission was to hit the ATM, about 1.5km from Bonfire. Having already walked a long way I decided to get an auto. One picked up 3 young guys and it often happens that they add more passengers, so they stopped for me.

One guy speaks quite good English and wants to help me by taking me to where there is more than one ATM. Did you notice I stuck the magic word help in there? I also stuck the word stuck in there because this guy stuck with me as I went from ATM to ATM trying to find one that would cough up.

Of course, he has an auto and would like to take me on a tour… Though if he had an auto, why was he in an auto? But let’s not get pedantic. I can shake most people but this guy was like that critter in Alien, nothing could dislodge him from being in my face.

I told him I had no money which was true at that point, hence me looking for an ATM. At least 5 didn’t work so I could keep the no money line going. Eventually I struck Rupees, quickly put it in my pocket and came out saying “another one doesn’t work”.

Despite me telling him that he had worn out his welcome, was making me unhappy, was not a good advertisement for Agra, that I have leprosy, he tagged along.

I was starting to get the shits because he didn’t stop talking the whole time, this has been about 45 minutes by now. Eventually I realised we were near Sheroes and I concocted a story that I would visit my friend there to borrow money.

As I walked up to the door one of the staff recognised me from the last two days and shook my hand like, you guessed it, a friend. And when I turned around, alien was gone.

I have a yarn about a rug making factory (sorry, couldn’t resist) but this post is long enough already. Tomorrow is a travel day to Jaipur so I will save it.

It was a long day, and I was happy to end it with a meal on the hostel rooftop. Because I had been to the ATM and thought I deserved a treat, I finished the evening with 500ml of cock.

…or a banana spreat. Same thing?

I should sleep well tonight.

High stakes scamming

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Steve

Where? Still in Agra at Bonfire Hostel

I woke up, glanced at my tablet, it’s 0730, not too bad a nights sleep. Check emails, do some stuff, read, hang out for an hour and then check time on my phone, 0630. WTF???? Crap, this is the right time, I hadn’t changed the time on my tablet. Suddenly I am feeling tired again.

I’m not the first person to observe that the best way to see a place is on foot. Nor am I the first to notice that when on foot, there is a lot to be said for following your nose and seeing where you end up.

Come, my friend. Walk the back streets of Agra with me, I guarantee many laughs along the way.

Akil from the hostel had recommended a restaurant last night. You would have enjoyed the malai kofta. While walking there I wasn’t sure if I had missed it, businesses can be pretty obscure. I asked a guy selling apples “where is Priya Restaurant?”, he pauses for a moment and says “50 Rupees”. I can’t help myself and burst out laughing and walk on, finding the place about 100m further on. Thinking about how much money he likely makes selling apples from a cart (there’s heaps of competition) I decided to give the poor bugger R50 on the way back, unfortunately he had taken his apples and gone home. Karma?

This morning we will head in the same direction, not to find apple wallah, but because it is somewhere new. Where there had been a handful of stalls last night, now the place was bustling. Down a dusty lane where people seemed to be coming and going look what we find, a fabulous vegetable market.

You can never have too much coriander

Sellers need to do something good to be competitive here, most people sell one thing and whatever they are selling, there is likely 20 other people selling it too.

…or potatoes

Let us stop for a moment and watch one woman buy about 5kg of potatoes – it looked like she paid R60 ($1.20). How people make a living is beyond my understanding.

Purchases are piled high on people’s heads, on bicycles and in the back of autos. It is quite something to watch.

Wandering aimlessly I notice we are heading toward the Taj Mahal, it is only 1km from the hostel. I spot what we would call a shopping centre, this is called Golden Bazar and we head for the main entrance, shops are interesting for their differences to home.

And this place is different. It can best be described as an Indian version of Banksy’s dismaland. Almost every shop is empty and boarded up, but remarkably one or two were operating…why? And out the front, to complete the scene was this.

dismal indeed

How are you enjoying our walk so far? All this and we’ve only covered maybe 1km and had to wave off about 20 auto drivers who refuse to believe we want to walk.

Down to the East Gate Road and along to the entrance to the Taj Mahal. There has been some glimpses, but with all the smog it is hard to tell if that really is it (it is, of course). We’ve walked about 4km now, how are you holding up? Drink water, it is only R20 per litre. This has been a good scouting mission as we discovered we passed the ticket office 1km back without noticing. Putting the ticket office conveniently next to the gate would be un-Indian.

Yes, I know the main road turns right, but the hotel, though a fair way off, is more or less straight ahead, so let’s follow this small road. What can possibly go wrong when you have Google maps on your phone?

This is the real India, people going about their chores and business remarkably all within a stone’s throw of the Taj. A smile and hello will almost always elicit a response and people asking “what country” delight in hearing we are from “Australia – Ricky Ponting“. Yes it worked last trip, why not use it again.

Look at this, the map doesn’t lie, we have popped out right near the hotel. Nice!

Here’s that pesky auto driver again, he won’t give up. I enjoy the banter, he has a great smile, speaks excellent English and needs us to be the first customer of the day “for good luck”. 😀 His offer of R20 (40c) for an hour is embarrassingly cheap. Raju is going to get his good luck and we get him take us to Sheroes, resisting his offer of stopping at a few shops on the way. He will wait.

And if an auto driver says he will wait, he will wait.

90 minutes at Sheroes. We would have stayed longer but two groups of about 15 people each came in completely overwhelming the place. When we leave, noting that Raju’s auto is still parked over the road I lead the way. I duck left, weave behind a parked bus, scuttle along with a horse drawn cart, cross the road (so we are on the wrong side, traffic coming towards us). Stupid me, driving into oncoming traffic is a basic use of the road and suddenly Raju is beside us again.

Lots of laughs as he recounts everything that happened in the restaurant and comes up with more excuses on why we should ride with him. No, walking is good!

But then he come up with an idea, a high stakes scam, if you will. If you know me you’ll know this is my idea of fun. He will take us for free, we will stop at a shop and go in and look around, appearing interested in the outrageously overpriced jewellery. He will receive a whopping R20 commission for bringing tourists.

It seems to work, I will come back later with my wife to show her those beautiful rings. To play the part we have to get back in the auto and he drops us 100m down the road.

Another km or so and we are back at the hostel, I guess we have walked about 6km. What fun, did you enjoy that?

Of course there has to be a fitting end to our morning and there he is, Raju is parked outside the hostel. “Did you get your R20?”. Thumbs up and a big smile.

Arrived in Delhi – you won’t believe what happens next

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Steve

Location: Agra, not part of the plan

Hotel: Royal Inn Raj Paradise – don’t be fooled by the name. 2 stars*

Bonfire Guest House 4 stars*

* This is my personal rating based on how useful the hotel is. e.g. Royal Inn was crap, they had a noisy generator running for power, linen may or may not have been clean, didn’t speak much English. Bonfire is crappish, but it is cheap, the owner is a young guy who is super friendly and helpful which gives the place bonus stars.

I imagine it happens in other industries, but in hospitals there is a pervasive superstition. If you enter a ward that is quiet, you are not to mention the word quiet as that ensures that it won’t be quiet for much longer.

Similarly I mentioned good omens yesterday – stupid me.

It was a looong 36 or so hours getting to Delhi. Not much sleep and bodily clock completely out of whack.

I had made reservations at two hotels as I know how these things work, last trip on the night I arrived my driver couldn’t find the hotel I had booked even though we were right at the address. I later learned that a hotel entrance might just be a door, I can now add to that knowledge that I don’t know how these things work at all, it can be way more ‘interesting’.

With only hand luggage I was out of the airport in 10 minutes. Nice!

Getting to New Delhi station from the airport was a surprisingly simple mission. There was the usual clutch of auto drivers and I agreed to a R50 fare to the hotel.

Somewhere near it we were blocked by a boom gate, the area is closed. Gate keeper and auto drive converse in Hindi and I understand that we are trying a different route.

Except we weren’t. I ended up at a ‘tourist office’ where I discover there is some festival on, the one where they whip themselves with sharpened somethings – Knives? Chains? Tongues? Who knows, but the area is sealed off.

It seems half of Delhi is shut down and the helpful bloke let’s me call both hotels who confirm I can’t get to them. It is now midnight and I am exhausted.

Helpful bloke suggests the only solution is to get out of Delhi. There are no trains by this time of night and I am exhausted.

After a lot of research, discussion, righteous indignation, thoughts and vacillation I am still too exhausted to think straight and knowing I am being robbed I agree to a driver taking me 200km to Agra. Short of sleeping on the ground at the railway station I can’t come up with anything else.

I was assured, this is a 2.5 hour trip, but that didn’t factor in a driver whose average speed was under 80kph on a 100kph freeway. He drove the whole way with his lights on high beam – no big deal, so did everyone else, it was blinding. I was struggling to stay awake and was freaking out that he was too.

Fortunately most of the time we were going slowly enough to avoid serious injury should he have run off the road or into one of the many trucks with no tail lights.

We arrive at 0400 at an overpriced hotel in a back street off of a back street of Agra. When I left this morning the guy asked if I was coming back and when I said it was unlikely, miraculously the price of a room dropped by 30%. I can only wonder if the 30% surcharge went to the driver.

I am less exhausted now, I have a SIM card, some cash and all the time in the world.

Monday I will go back to the Taj Mahal – like any Wonder of the World you don’t go there on the weekend. Not part of the plan, but I am here, why wouldn’t I?

The other thing I was hoping to do since I am in Agra was visit Sheroes Restaurant but had no idea how to find it.

Walking to find an ATM and phone shop I stumbled on it by chance. But I am not taking this as an omen.

A religious experience

Posted on October 14, 2016 by Steve

$AUD1 = 3 Ringgit = 50 Rupees = $US0.75c Try to keep this in mind, I will generally talk in the local currency unless I need to convert for effect.

Location: Kuala Lumpur

Hotel: Container Capsule at airport. Quite interesting. 80 Ringgit for 6 hours to catch up on sleep. Built to look like shipping containers but it isn’t really. Just a bed in a compartment even I can’t stand up in, but it is perfect. If it was my holiday destination it would rate 1 star, but to freshen up it gets 4.5 stars – losing that last bit for having a noisy fan.

The trip has started wth a good omen – I have an empty row of seats on the flight fromGold Coast to Kuala Lumpur. Yeah, it is only a 3 seat row, but that is plenty long enough for me to stretch out during the 8 hour flight.

I manage to get about 4 hours sleep 🙁

Into KL at 0400, how exciting!!! And I am an international transfer so appear doomed to living hell, a day inside an airport. I know it is a first world problem and casually mention to someone behind an information desk that I am supposedly a privileged white male.

She immediately grasps the seriousness of the situation and suggests I can get a “pass out” from immigration if I already have my boarding pass.

Before I know it the time is 0530 and I am at KL Sentral station wondering a) what time it gets light (0700) and b) what time the city wakes up – coincidentally it is 0700 as well.

The first train to Batu Caves (thanks for the idea uncle Ron) is too nervous to appear until first light so I kill 90 minutes in another kind of living hell, a railway station. This has the dubious attraction of a guy in camo walking around blowing a whistle periodically. I look for a ball game of some sort and realise that the game is “don’t you dare fall asleep suckers”, played with homeless people and other travellers.

Batu Caves is actually pretty cool. A limestone outcrop full of some huge caves dropped in the middle of suburbia. Hmmm…since caves are open space can something be full of them? Let the debate begin.

The place has many temples in and around it. it is obvious how, like Uluhru, such things had (have?) mystical significance. The biggest cave is the only one you don’t have to pay to get into, which means it is the only one open at 0730.

My guess is that they tried taking money off people but after the climb they were too exhausted to pay. It is steep!!! But it is worth the effort to see how ongoing renovation works can nudge something that is quite outstanding to being quite a mess.

I am there for morning puja, a drummer and someone playing a long instrument that likely has a name but can best be described as a metal oboe but with holes rather than whatever those mechanical things are. In the West drum machines have taken their toll on drummers, here there is no harmonium player, instead there is a cassette player playing a drone – cassette player! The acoustics in the cave are awesome enough to overlook this.

Despite all the work going on the place is really interesting, plenty of gods to pray to if you are so inclined. I was watching a ritual and the holy man came over and put a white tilak mark on my forehead. Astonishingly, I wasn’t expected to make a donation (I don’t think).

One good thing about being so early was that the tourist busses didn’t start arriving until about 0930 – I think the place gets crazy during the day.

Body clock completely wonky, I think I am hungry and right opposite was a Hindu restaurant. These places are great because Hindus are vegetarian so no trying to figure what to eat.

My first meal is a dhosa with 2 glasses of sugar cane juice for 10 Ringgit ($3). It was a religious experience.

Is this it?

Posted on October 13, 2016 by Steve

I fly out in 4 hours and thought it wise to make sure all systems are working. This is mainly a test of whether https://Steve.Davis.net.au posts automatically end up on Google+ and Facebook. And it is a good opportunity to get started once again. If you are interested in reading about my last trip click the 2015 category in the right hand column.

I am taking a phone, a tablet and a camera – although I have a support team so I can relax a bit, I will be keeping an eye on 123host. What a world we live in when I can take photos on each of the devices. And what a first world issue to deal with when deciding which takes the best shot.

Best way to decide is a test

Samsung tablet -2Mb

Canon ixus camera – 9Mb

Motorola G3 phone – 5Mb

I think I will use the camera mostly. The tablet is a distant 3rd on resolution alone and let’s not even discuss that my finger photobombed the shot.

While I like the colours and contrast of the phone over the camera, they can be adjusted later in LightRoom. I prefer that little bit of extra view with the camera, I can always crop a camera shot, but I can’t add to a phone shot. It will be useful to take photos with the camera once in a while…I keep telling myself that.

This bag is all I am taking. I looked at it and laughed in a mixture of embarrassment, triumph and patheticness. It seriously has all I need. A clean shirt and pair of shorts, toiletries, some medicals (double checks gastri-stop), too many wires and chargers and of course, a ukulele. Yes, there is really a uke in there – I hope it will survive the trip.

What else can a person possibly need?

The bizarre thing is I needed a huge suitcase for a week in Melbourne recently and a day pack is all I need for 5 weeks in India.

Overnight to Kuala Lumpur where I really hope I am allowed out of the airport to go to Batu Caves during a 14 hour layover. Then into Delhi 2200hrs local time on Friday…I should be in great shape 😛

Another adventure begins

Posted on August 29, 2016 by Steve