accomodation – Page 2 – Travels

An unexpected desert bus safari

Posted on November 8, 2016 by Steve

Location: unexpectedly back in Jodhpur after Jaisalmer and Rajmathi
Hotel: Jodhpur – Discovery, Jaisalmer – Dhora Rani Guesthouse, Rajmathai – read on

My goodness, has it been 4 5 days since I posted something? Well, it sure has been interesting since then, as I hope you have come to expect.

Last year Jodhpur was maybe my favourite place. The fort is incredible, imposing over the blue city. Despite making a few friends here among the vendors, I was feeling dissatisfied. For a start, the air quality here is decidedly dodgy. The market, though fascinating is noisy and crazy busy and in the narrow streets with speedy motorcycles and tuk tuks the air is even worse. Although I wanted to be here for 5 days or so, after 3 days I was restless and ready to move on. In fact I was thinking I had had enough of India and was regretting that my return flight is 2 weeks away.

Jaisalmer bhang shop – unvisited

Fortunately I have travelled enough to have suddenly realised that I had hit the 3 week hump. It happens to me every time, a mixture of homesick, missing family and friends and regular routines and being tired. I was already on my way to Jaisalmer so not sure if figuring it out sooner would have made a difference to my travel ‘plans’, who cares anyway.

I am fortunate and grateful that Raju from the Discovery Hotel booked me on a very special bus from Jodhpur to Jaisalmer, a 275km trip that the bus did at an average speed of 35km per hour – you can do the math, it should come out to about 8 hours. Slow buses aren’t special though, buses that apparently have no suspension are. Or maybe they aren’t, knowing India, but it is the first I have been on.

Of course no suspension isn’t a major issue itself, however when you are on a road that has work being done every few kilometers, around which there is a diversion along a rutted section of dirt road, no suspension becomes a matter of consuming interest to everyone on board.

Something else that becomes interesting for everyone is when the truck blows a tyre. Can I blame the combination of rugged roads and no suspension?

It give me an opportunity to have a look at the early warning system that is installed on most buses and trucks.

But it doesn’t play La Cucaracha 🙁

The variety and cacophony of melodies is an aural delight…of sorts. There are also a variety of horn systems on different trucks and buses, they mostly all sound different to each other. The driver has a set of 5 or so buttons, each of which plays a different tune or the same tune at a different rate or all horns blasting at once or something. Sometimes even that won’t move a cow or herd of goats off the road.

Last trip I had an idea for a project using the sounds. This time I am working on collecting the bits and pieces to make it happen.

Jaisalmer is famous for its fort and for being in the middle of the Rajasthani desert. I didn’t realise there is also a huge military base there – I think it might be far enough away from, yet still handily convenient to Pakistan. I find the hostility to Pakistan to be widespread and vehement. People really hate the bastards for stealing part of India, at least I think that is how they see it. Personally I don’t give a rat’s and am bemused by people who bring it up in conversation out of the blue.

One of the main activities apart from visiting the lovely but way too crowded fort, is taking a camel safari out into the desert and camping under the stars. The number of camel safari operators is only rivalled by the number of tuk tuk drivers offering to take you to the best non-touristic (sic) camel safari operator.

Jamin, the manager of the Doha Rani Guesthouse explains how his safari is non-touristic because he comes from a desert village. You start on a camel, then are taken deeper into the desert to his village in a jeep – I suspect you leave the camels behind. Then by camel even deeper into the desert (his words) to a big sand dune where you camp over night under the stars, then jeep it back to Jaisalmer the following day. Of course the price for his safari is a very touristic double the price of the others. Even so, R2,750 ($55) doesn’t seem unreasonable. I tell him I’ll let him know later in the day.

A little later I am talking to a fellow hotel guest, an Israeli guy who doesn’t seem to have adjusted to India despite being here for a month. I tell him about the camel safari and he says “I won’t do that, I don’t like riding animals”. Oh No! The ethical question I hadn’t even considered was just planted in my brain!!! If I was unwilling to ride elephants in Jaipur, why would I ride camels in Jaisalmer?

Now what? I am trying to justify doing the safari but I am not sure I can. I still have to give the owner my answer…

Via the wonders of social media I find out that Hindu speaking Jack is working at a local hotel and we agreed to meet for a beer and a chat. Jack is a smart guy, he has found a good ice cream parlour, but assumed that because I told him I don’t have much of a sweet tooth I am not interested. I soon set him straight and even sooner we are tucking into delicious cashew and fig ice cream. Anyone who enjoys a late night gelato or gourmet ice cream in Australia knows it will set you back at least $5, this was R40 (80c) and really good.

As often happens, while we are sitting talking, we attract a group of onlookers and a couple of young guys in cricket uniforms come and sit with us, ostensibly to speak a little English. You should have seen Manak and Mahendra’s faces when Jack started talking to them in fluent Hindi, they couldn’t believe it.

Manak, Jack, me (obviously) & Mahendra

It turns out they are in Jaisalmer for a cricket match or tournament and are heading back to their village, Rajmathai 100km away, the next day. Would we like to come with them? Fortunately Jack, like me, only needs be asked once and without any real idea of where we are going or what is there, we agreed to meet the following day at 2PM. So much for a camel safari, this is already exciting.

I do the fort and some wandering in the morning and feeling a little disloyal, I have another ice cream by myself on my way to meet everyone. It was just as good the second time.

Being India, I never really know whether an arranged anything will happen, but these guys are good. They are right on time and they are as excited about this as we are. The bus doesn’t leave for an hour so we wander to the lake (flamingoes!!!) and slowly make our way to the ‘bus station’. The quotes is because like most bus stations it is nothing more than an open space where buses feel safer in a crowd.

One would expect that 18 year old guys, 100km from home would know exactly which bus, but it took a little asking and eventually off we go with a few more members of the Rajmathai International Cricket Team heading home.

Jack is king of the kids – a nice change for me that someone else has centre stage – and they talk non stop for the 3 hour trip as we head south east deep into the desert. And I am not using a ‘take my camel safari’ marketing phrase. We are really heading deeper into the desert.

From Jaisalmer, on the horizon, there are lots of wind generators, the bus heads right into the wind farm, the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Hundreds and hundreds of wind generators as far as I can see in every direction. All I can say, several times, is WOW! I think it translates OK into Hindi.

Aside: thanks to Jack I have learned quite a few new Hindi words and an also learning to read. If you are at all like me when you first look at this sign you will think it is impossible to learn. In fact it is relatively easy and as i look at signs I see, I have been really excited when I have managed to figure out a word.

Road signs are good to learn Hindi as it has both languages to compare – the letters are obvious when you look at them side by side, right?

Through the wind farm we go and at some point we turn off the highway onto a single lane road. We really in the deep desert now, the land is pretty marginal looking, there are some big dunes, there are some small villages.

I can’t quite find a context for this video, but it is worth sharing. This is one of the diversions around road works, not the suspension-less bus. Note the path taken by the second oncoming truck. This is absolutely normal and not the slightest bit alarming especially since Krishna is riding shotgun. I have in my head a post explaining Indian road rules.

All along the way people are getting off the bus in what looks like the middle of nowhere. Sometimes there is a track off into the hills or a house in the distance, but often it is a mystery where they are going.

Then, almost unbelievably, we turn off the single lane sealed road onto what can best be described as a track. There is no way you would call it a dirt road. The driver is taking a break and based on his demonstrated skills, or lack thereof, I doubt his replacement a) had driven a bus before and b) has a license.

You don’t believe me do you?

The original driver is sitting up front pointing out which track to take, because at many spots it splits into multiple identical looking deep desert dirt tracks. All along the way we are stopping in villages that have 10 or 20 or so dwellings, including the most amazing earth walled structures. This is the best photo I could get, we never stopped near a house.

Eventually we get back onto a single landed bitumen road, apparently we had taken a short cut. But if it is a short cut, what happened to the people waiting for the bus along the proper route? Another of India’s mysteries.

I am in heaven watching these villages we pass and soon enough the boys say we are getting off in. the. middle. of. fucking. nowhere. Just like all those other people I had wondered about, right on dusk, we are standing in the middle of the deep desert. Well maybe not the middle, but it sounds good for the story.

We walk off the road, deeper into the desert (I’m hoping for a job selling camel safaris, so am practicing the hype) and come to a compound with 4 buildings including a storage shed (above) and the toilet. By now it is almost dark so it is hard to tell exactly what is around, but obviously there isn’t much. Manak introduces us to his grandfather who seems to live in a single roomed stone outbuilding. We are then shown a quite impressive array of farm equipment for ploughing, harvesting, weeding. The family grows corn, millet, potatoes, wheat and maybe some other crops that they both sell in the city and also eat.

We are taken into the main house (in the background above) which is where all the women and children are and are given the grand tour. By now it is dark and one woman is cooking rotis over an open fire in a dark room. Everyone else – 4 adult women and 3 kids at least – is in a single room that also has a couple of beds and hardly enough space for everyone, in my mind a bit of rearranging would make it much more comfortable, but it isn’t my home.

As we go to leave the house we head back to roti room and the woman starts yelling something that sounded angry or at least alarmed. It turned out that the women were scared of us. Jack and I figure they haven’t seen many westerners in real life and up close before. Have they even been beyond the village? We don’t know.

There is a sombre note to all this. Manak’s father was killed in a motor bike accident at the beginning of this year and there is obviously still a lot of pain around this. I am surprised that Manak is able to continue his studies and isn’t working the farm, but perhaps his uncles can cover it all.

We sit down outside on what will become our beds and eventually four uncles return from the fields and wherever they have been. The dust on the camera lens adds an interesting effect don’t you think? But before they arrive Manak, who is 19, tells us he is to be married next year and after I tell them my daughter is a doctor he expresses his dream to become a doctor and wonders if it is possible in Australia. I love helping people dream big so we tell Manak about being a student in Australia and how expensive it is, but with his circumstances – poor, father died, first in family to get an education – perhaps he can apply for a scholarship. There may be a condition that he brings hiss skills back to rural India, he would have to really improve his English. I explain the easy and hard bits. I even offer that if it happens and he gets into a Gold Coast medical school he can board at our house for free. I am serious. The truth is, I am not sure he would qualify on many fronts, but as I said, if he doesn’t apply, they aren’t going to call him.

As uncles showed up we changed the subject, perhaps dreaming big isn’t for a poor rural family who have arranged his marriage already – he hasn’t met the girl. With Jack interpreting we talk about all sorts of stuff and eventually out comes a meal.

It was quite sweet and we think it was essentially millet flour mixed with sugar and a few spices plus a millet flour roti broken up and mixed through. When we were nearly finished some fresh cow’s milk was produced and mixed with the remainder. There was also a side dish of some sort of spicy potato. It was satisfying, but very basic and likely millet is the staple as they grow loads of it, they even have a mill to make the flour.

The next morning Manak had to catch a bus to Jodhpur to return to school and we were going with him. I was heading to Bikaner, but it was too hard from the deep desert so decided to head their via Jodphur. Then I had a crazy idea. The uncles are doing some irrigating and I thought it would cool to stay another day and work on the farm. Jack is a self-confessed non-hard worker and didn’t want to stay. I considered staying anyway, but the language barrier and then the bus trip seemed a bit tricky.

And so to bed.

This photo is from the next morning. We have slept outside, under the stars seeing a couple of meteorites and a satellite. Unfortunately even though we were in the desert, there is still enough haze to spoil a view of the night sky, it doesn’t get really black. When we decided to come, I knew sleeping was going to be a bit rough and my back is glad we aren’t sleeping on the ground. I said to Jack “This is either going to be the best or the worst night’s sleep of my life” and I am delighted to say I slept really well. It was quite chilly, but with two blankets I was almost too warm, having to stick my feet out a few times.

Behind uncle and our beds is the building grandfather seems to live in, on the left behind the goats is the toilet – the first squat toilet I have seen. The compound was simple in every respect.

The kids were really frisky in the morning, running, jumping, climbing on everything.

The previous night Manak had told us that the bus came at 7 and we would need to walk 2km into Rajmathai. I have no idea how stories are created and can be different to reality. It ended up that at 7:25 we walked back out to the road, paying respects to father on the way, and as we stepped out of the deepest desert, there in the near distance was the bus.

I didn’t want to ride a camel anyway.

One last thing. I saw a meme Things that look like Hitler and the very next day…

Udaipur, like Europe in India

Posted on October 29, 2016 by Steve

Location: Udaipur

Hotel: Dream Heaven

As well as sharing my trip, I hope that anyone planning to visit India is learning some things. Perhaps the most valuable trait you can have is agility. Not in the physical sense, I would fail miserably. I am talking about being agile and resilient around your expectations and actual experiences.

If you come to India and get flustered when something doesn’t go according to plan you are doomed to a tortuous trip that will be anything but a holiday.

The hotel manager in Pushkar assured me that a bus directly to Udaipur leaves from the bus station at 0900. Great news, I plan to be on it and in Udaipur in about 5 hours. Luckily later in the afternoon I double checked it is the bus stop (not really a bus station) where I arrived. Of course it isn’t – thanks for telling me up front – and I am shown a map of where to go.

You have already figured that there is no direct bus from Pushkar haven’t you? But no drama, I know that there will be one from the bus station in Ajmer where the local bus arrives. It was easy to find the right ticket seller in Ajmer and I am heartened by the fact that my R280 or so ticket clearly states Express. It will be a direct run 260km down the highway, none of this dipping into every town along the way.

I’m telegraphing the story aren’t I because you have also figured that there may be a different definition of Express in India. This bus stopped at just about every town and took 8 bloody hours to travel that 260km. Sigh.

The scene at one town’s bus station. Can a Hindi speaker explain what this was about?

But, an adventure is what you make it. It was hot and dusty and noisy with a window open and horns blaring. Sometime the bus was packed then for a while it would be relatively empty. Then it would fill up again for another stretch. My offers of Singara to my neighbours weren’t being accepted so not much talking happening, but plenty of munching by me.

I was thoroughly enjoying watching the world go past and started to wonder why. So I started playing a game of rather than just taking it in, of naming what was interesting that I saw. It ranged from the banal I wonder where that road leads to the visually captivating look at the size of the bundles of dried grass (or whatever it was) those people are carrying on their heads to the astonishing how on earth does a stone vendor compete?

Turn the sound down, it is just wind noise.

This is an area about 50km north of Udaipur. Kilometre after kilometre of the highway between Rajsamand and Nathdwara are lined on both sides with stone vendors selling the same product: marble and granite. How they survive with all the competition, like many things in India, is a mystery.

Along the way we stopped for food, how can you not love this piece of unintended art towering over our bus?

By the time we reached Udaipur at about 5PM I was knackered. A bit of research showed the managers recommendation of the Dream Heaven hotel was one thing he had gotten right.

In all the hotels I have been to, this is the first where reception is on the roof, 5 or 6 flights of stairs up (I can count if any pedants are interested) from street level.

The rooftop restaurant with some cost hangouts and reception in the gloomy distance

The rooftop restaurant with some cosy hangouts and reception in the gloomy distance

I wonder if it is some clever ploy to suck people in because walking out on the roof through the restaurant gives me my first view of Udaipur and it is breathtaking.

It gets better/different as the sun sets

I’m sitting in the corner of the rooftop and have been here about an hour, I’ll fill you in on what has been going on.

A monkey climbed a tree just below eye level, about 10m away, ate some leaves or whatever it eats and seems to have camped there for the night. It is too dark to tell. Fireworks are going off all over and are getting bigger and more frequent. Over the water at a temple a drumming machine (see video from last year) is going off, people are floating candles on the lake. A building in the distance has a couple of search lights swinging around the sky – the haze makes them clearly visible in the night sky. Call to prayer has just started in a couple mosques.

In case I had forgotten (I haven’t) I am reminded of why I came back to India.

I am starting to think about eating, but not here, much more fun to go for a walk.

And walk I did today, here’s some shots from around town.

These are for the top of temples and are only about R5000. My home is a temple and this would look awesome, but too big to carry.

Diwali preparations

What a great face. He proudly showed me photos someone else had taken and given him. I couldn’t manage to get one printed today, will try again tomorrow.

I do love how three versions of the same image can feel so different.

Image manipulation is so hard on a tablet 🙁 The bottom one is a cropped screenshot, hence the date. It isn’t in the image.

Although we don’t do much, I will never grumble about ironing as a chore again.

Outside many shops and no doubt in most homes are these terracotta water holders. On a hot day the evaporation cools the water remarkably. They are for sale everywhere for about R60 apparently.

Loved this tall long alleyway

Puppeteer friends, you would have had an orgasm in this shop. It was so colourful with hundreds and hundreds of different sizes characters hanging one on top of the other in various rooms.

And before monkey arrived there were birds. The parrot looks a bit like a Port Lincoln Parrot. The other? Without some research, which I will leave to you, no idea.

I have also found great samosas, a shop keeper to chat with, the local bhang shop (if I dare, again) and also the local bang shop.

The lethal crackers, less than 2cm long and 1cm in diameter are called bullet bombs. I had seen and heard someone letting them off and asked for a personal demo. HOLY SHIT! is all I can say.

This is day one of five in Udaipur. I hope I haven’t peaked too early.

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.

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.

Could it be the end?

Posted on November 2, 2015 by Steve

It seems like months ago that I arrived in India, in fact it was 7 weeks. The Sheila met me in Delhi 2 weeks ago and here we are, about to leave.

We have arrived back in Chennai for a flight to Kuala Lumpur tomorrow morning and had an auto driver take us to a hotel near the airport so we didn’t have to travel far at 0600hrs.

Of course the last night in India is true Indian style. The overpriced hotel is in one of the worst streets I have seen in a while and the promised wifi has been limited because, as the manager put it ‘someone had many movies downloaded’. So we move to their ‘annexure’, same hotel but a couple of doors down the same bad street and the wifi works.

By bad street I do not mean unsafe, just that it was muddy and wet and crowded and grotty with no decent shops. But there was a cool market just around the corner that had some fantastic stuff like this:

This delightful piece is a backpack that I think is meant to be kind of like but not quite Mickey Mouse so that it doesn’t infringe copyright. Not intentionally of course. Who buys this shit?

We did find one veg restaurant after a bit of searching and after much comedic mime and signing trying to figure out what was on the menu we settled on an Aloo Mutter Paneer (Potato and pea with cottage cheese) curry with a couple of naan. The total price was about Rs150 ($3) and it was one of the tastiest meals I had eaten.

Served on banana leaves on the plastic plates with no cutlery. This is not tourist stuff, this is a non-descript restaurant in a back street in Chennai.

This was an overnight transit stop so apart from bad backpacks and good food, we move on to Kulala Lumpur.

Farewell India!

Halloween, you’re doing it wrong. In fact it is a religious thing, unlikely they have heard of Halloween, lucky buggers.

She was being milked at the time and had the biggest horns of any water buffalo I had seen. Not a great photo, it was pretty dark and I didn’t want to flash it.

I loved the incredible range of doors, especially on temples.

Wandered into a toy store back in Kolkatta and they had the most incredible collection of old kids cars as well as other old toys.

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.