Camels, Water Buffaloes and Siberian Hamsters*

Location: Pushkar Fair, commonly known as the Pushkar Camel Fair

Hotel: Back at the Hotel Paramount where prices have doubled for the fair

*Obligatory Fawlty Towers reference – you’ll see.

Bikaner isn’t a bad place.  I liked the old city, walked a long way there, around it and back.  During the walk I learned a few more Hindi words and letters and made a Facebook friend who only posts in Hindi.  I won’t rest until I can reply in Hindi.

I kind of missed getting off the bus where I wanted to so picked a spot at an intersection with a main road, it is easier to get to somewhere else.  Using google maps I found the nearby Chandra Niwas Guesthouse had decent reviews, so walked the 10 minutes there.  Quite a nice place, very homey with family photos and memorabilia everywhere.

Then a guy says “good to see you again” and it turns out that a friend of the owner runs the hotel I stayed at in Jaisalmer 3 days earlier and is visiting.  An absolute coincidence, what are the odds?

I still enjoy sugar cane juice and there was a street vendor more or less opposite the hotel.  I loved the ingenuity of his cart.  Likely it is a standard build, but I haven’t seen it before.

I know I mention the cows and their “couldn’t give a shit” attitude often, but they are everywhere, all the time.  Actually, they do give a shit, a lot of it, to the point where you need to watch where you walk.  I was watching this big guy for a while before I thought to pull out my camera, and then of course as soon as I did, he moved…reluctantly.

One of the main attractions of Bikaner is about 30km away in a town called Deshnok, the Kani Mata Temple.  If you are mysophobia (from Greek), murophobic (from the taxonomic name) or suriphobic (from French) you might want to look away now because you are not going to be able to unsee the videos I post.

I’ll be more specific: if you don’t like rodents jump over this section because Karni Mata is the rat temple.  I had heard about it (thanks Beccy), but even though rodents don’t bother me, nothing quite prepares you for the  reported 20,000 black rats that live there.

The first video will give many people the willies, it is what you see on first entering the temple complex.

They are as everywhere as they look.  Climbing up, down, through, over, under and around everything.  Have I left out a description?  If so, you can be sure they were doing that too.  If you stand still they will either run over your bare feet (no shoes in temples) or come close to investigate.

There are constant shrieks from people and some kids are being carried.  I am certain some adults would be too if they could.  They have no choice but to be there as they have possibly come a very long way on a pilgrimage.  There’s been a lot of pilgrimage talk recently in posts and there will be more, but for now, I’ll stick with rats.

If you are lucky, you will spot one of a handful of white rats. They are believed to be the manifestations of Karni Mata herself and her four sons. Sighting them is a special blessing and visitors are craning their necks, peering into nooks and crannies hoping to see one – there was a bit of excitement after I took the video, but no confirmed white rat sighting.

Inside the temple proper are more rats.  I walked around the back, more rats.  I found women cooking, more rats.  There’s a lot of rats.  Hindus often walk three times around the central place where the god is situated.  I walked around with video going, unfortunately aside from the shrieks, you really don’t get the full effect until I walk back into the main chamber.  You may not be able to forgive me for traumatising you, but please forgive me for not being able to edit the dodgy bits.

My challenge for the day was to find and catch a local bus to Deshnok and then to find the bus to Ajmer from where I would take another bus the last 45 minutes or so to Pushkar – at least I knew how and where to catch this one.

This was a good plan until the Indian Prime Minister intervened by giving about 5 hours notice that R500 ($10) and R1,000 notes would no longer be legal tender from midnight on Tuesday the 8th.  In Australia it would be the equivalent of the government saying ” from midnight tonight $50 and $100 notes can’t be spent”.  Banks were to be closed on Wednesday and ATMs closed until Friday so that new notes can be issued. This certainly became a distraction from the outcome in America.

Ostensibly the idea is to kill the black economy (it won’t, the GST didn’t in Australia), to starve terrorists of their smuggled funding and to get rid of an apparent flood of counterfeits.

Thursday morning 30 minutes before opening time. I managed to get to the front of the queue and was in and out by 10:30

Thursday morning 30 minutes before opening time. I managed to get to the front of the queue and was in and out by 10:30

I actually didn’t hear about this until Wednesday afternoon and had R2,000 in 500s plus R280 in smaller notes.  SHIT!!!  I wanted to leave the next morning but wouldn’t be able to pay for my room.  Fortunately Mr Singh was willing to take R500 notes as payment but he wouldn’t change any more for me.  I wasn’t going to press the point as I was grateful, he likely figured it was the only way he could get paid.  True at that point.

I had it figured that not including bus fares, I could eat OK as long as I stuck to R10 street food – which can be delicious.  I was getting a little stressed then I remembered – as someone put it during a conversation in Udaipur – T.I.I.  This Is India.  They liked my version O.I.I.  Only In India.  Once I reminded myself of T.I.I. an O.I.I., I knew it would be a hassle but would work out.

I spotted the bank while working out where to catch the Deshnok bus and wandered over.  There had to be a way to beat the queue so I pulled out my passport and went to the front telling a cop I wanted to check that an Australian passport was sufficient ID.  I should add that to either deposit or exchange notes you need ID, fill out a form , provide a copy of your ID and there is an exchange limit of R4,000 at a time or maybe per day.

Indian ATM queue

The scene at an ATM mid afternoon on Friday, it was petty much the same Friday night.

Cop called someone from inside and he confirmed passport was fine.  Now I was at the front of the line, though off to the side and I wasn’t budging, unless ordered to.  Twenty minutes to opening time.  Forms are being handed out to many reaching hands, people are trying to wrangle their way inside with the select fee who likely know someone, the crowd is growing.

10AM and they start letting people in.  The orderly line dissolves into a mass of people and I squirm around the cop and I am inside!!!! No one told me that I needed a copy of my passport through.  After standing in line for 10 minutes to get ID verified,  guy initially knocked me back for not having a copy, I pleaded that I only had 3 notes to change, please help me.  (Are you paying attention to what happened there?) He did and made a copy.  YES!!

Move to the cash window and join another 15 minute line and I finally get my R1,500 in R100 notes. (how is your attention to detail?)  It is chaos in the bank and a battle to get out the door.

Finally I am on the bus to Deshnok, I pull out my wad of notes to pay the odd R237 fare and those who have been following closely know what I found, one last R500 note…sigh…not the end of the world, but damned annoying.

To jump ahead, it is now Friday night and my plan is when I wake up at 0400 like usual :o( , to go to an ATM and hope it has some money in it.

The 250km bus trip took 6 long hours – remind me to not take a government bus for a long trip – and the one good thing?  I looked at the map on my phone and realised the bus was going through Pushkar on its way to Ajmer.  It was already dark, I was thankful it was one bus trip and an hour saved.

Saturday morning:  I went ATM visiting at 0630 and they are all closed having apparently run out of money.  This is starting to get interesting 😛

Snacks are an essential part of a long bus trip and there is rarely a shortage offerings.  When a bus pulls up there are always vendors the windows and coming on board. This is a R10 serving of delicious pakora.

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and pappad (I didn’t buy any) are 2 for R10 as well as a visual treat.

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The Pushkar Fair is worthy of a post of its own, but if I fall behind I’ll never catch up.  Besides, this is only my first day, so I am sure there will be lots more to add.

Here is my introduction to the fair, first thing I see when I hit the main road to the fair ground.

The name is now the Pushkar Fair though it started out as and is commonly known the Pushkar Camel Fair.  There are lots of camels, horses and cattle for sale in a huge dusty and sandy area on the edge of town.

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This article at Wikipedia is very incomplete, but it gives you an idea, I’ll try to fill in the gaps.

There’s a lot of people in town and the place feels very different to my previous two visits.  Much of the activity is at the ghats around the lake where people come to bathe and pray.  There’s no livestock here despite the Wikipedia article making it sound like there is.

Hah! I just made a Freudian typo adding the word pay instead of pray so this is a good point to tell my Pushkar puja story.  The activity at the ghats is fascinating.  I can stand for ages watching an endless stream of people coming to bathe and pray – no photos allowed.  The Ajmer Civil Defence force is on hand with members holding bamboo poles positioned every 10m or so to ‘rescue’ pilgrims who struggle to get out, the steps are really slippery under water.  How do I know?  Sigh…

I have gotten to know a few people in Pushkar and one man sees me as I am walking along the ghats and wants to tell me the spiritual significance of the lake.  Next thing I know I am in the lake, shirtless, bathing with everyone else.  If there really is a god I’m sure she would have spoken to me and said Steve, before entering my holy water, remember to remove your hearing aids.  She had the chance to win me over and blew it.  I’ll come back to this.

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I bathe in water that is in desperate need of filtration and use one of the many ropes to get out without slipping over or requiring a bamboo pole.  There is considerable interest in a westerner participating in the puja ceremony, I am not sure whether they disapprove or are curious, I think more the latter.  Then, with thoughts of wet hearing aids dominating my head. I repeat a lot of words in both Hindi and English about good karma for me and my family and other things I couldn’t understand.

Of course there is the obligatory deal closer asking for money based on the number of members of my family that have died. Fortunately he had only gone back 7 generations at $2 (not Rupees) a head or it might have gotten stupidly expensive instead of ridiculously expensive.

On every toll road there are big signs explain who is exempt. Why don't they just give the toll collectors a list?

On every toll road there are big signs explaining who is exempt. Why don’t they just give the toll collectors a list?

The thing that pisses me of about this stuff is the sneakiness before the request for money.  People offer to help, shake my hand, ask where I am from, explain puja, all sorts of things and they mostly end up in a request for money.  I want to make it clear that this isn’t always true.  I have had so much fun talking to people who approach me or have just sold me a drink or food.  But not being up front about expecting payment makes me dig my heels in.

On the other hand, there are many beggars in the streets including lots of really interesting looking holy men – at least they look like holy men – who walk around openly asking for money.  I hate seeing tourists take their photo and then not give them any.  I find it incredibly rude and last night was tempted to say something to one woman, but held my tongue.

Puja complete and I have clearly told the guy that because of the money thing I don’t have much cash and he won’t be getting any today, though I will bring him some tomorrow – though likely not as much as he is expecting.  He insists on walking me to an ATM – are you getting how these scenes play out? – and fortunately I don’t have my card with me, besides ATMs have long lines out the front.

So I leave him empty handed for now, throwing my fate to the mercy of one of the millions of Hindu gods.  My other immediate concern is that one hearing aid isn’t working, maybe this is instant karma!  Heading back to my hotel I ask for some uncooked rice which I recall will absorb moisture in situations like this.  It takes a while to explain that I want neither fried or steamed rice and I am relieved to report that after leaving hearing aids buried for a couple of hours they are both now working.  Whew!

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Misspelled or badly worded signs are everywhere, but this one in a restaurant was especially great

The Mela ground is a big stadium where all the official and unofficial activities take place – apart from the rides it is all free.  This is an incomplete list of the things I saw there over a few hours.

  • Camel rides
  • Magicians
  • Tightrope walking
  • Horse rides
  • Musical chairs
  • Kids dancing
  • Hot air balloon rides
  • A rock concert
  • A sporting event I couldn’t get the name of – see video
  • Water Buffaloes being paraded – see different video
  • A drone – technically a hexacopter

It was non stop and fantastic.  As a former street performer I loved watching the magicians.  To me their sleight of hand tricks were easily spotted, but mixed with obvious comedy (it was all in Hindi) they had the crowds going.  I watched one guy for ages, his volunteers were clearly accomplices and I noticed something weird.  They never asked for money.

I started to wonder why and then shoved my hands in my pockets as I suspected they also had pickpockets working the crowd.  It was the only reason I could think of they didn’t pass a hat.  Though I imagine that unless they picked their mark (like me) it would be slim pickings from most pockets.

Hot air balloons light up the night

Hot air balloons light up the night

The other fascinating thing was this game.  I had a guy explaining it to me and it seems like an elaborate game of tag or touch football without the ball.  Players are are eliminated when touched by the single intruder and the defenders have to try to catch him but he can do something which will bring his eliminated team mates back into the game, but he has to stay inside some lines and it is a bit confusing to the casual observer.  So team numbers grow and shrink as the game progresses.  It was quite intense for the players and very enjoyable for the spectators.

The blog title and activity list hint at water buffaloes.  But these aren’t your ordinary water buffalo.  I suspect some generic engineering or mating with hippopotami as these shaved and oiled animals are monsters.

Once again, this is all in one day!!!

Here’s some more fun of the fair, there are 4 ferris wheels!!!

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I saw these guys walking in a parade in the late morning, there was a lot more in the group than you can see.

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In the evening they set up a food stall handing out food to the poor – and anyone else who wants, I was welcome.  In this case I offered a donation, they wouldn’t take it.  This is India.

Preparing food to give away

Preparing food to give away

Once I took the photo in the kitchen, everyone wanted their photo taken

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I am ready to hit the streets and have breakfast then head to an ATM or the fair wearing my combination sun protecting and cool night warming Indian shawl.

All I need now to look the part is a turban…and a tan.

An unexpected desert bus safari

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

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.

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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 :(

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.

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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…

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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

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.

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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.

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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

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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Diwali – festival of light and dressing up

Location: Right now, Jodhpur, but this post is about Udaipur

Hotel: Discovery Hotel

You need to understand that everything you are about to read is not only true, but happened in a single day on Diwali, Sunday October 30 2016.

My time in Udaipur had been fun – hmmm should I write this in the past tense or pretend and write in the present tense?

Speaking of which, the past, the present and the future walked into a bar.  Things got a little tense.

So…my time in Udaipur had been fun.  Five days in one place is a good amount of time to get to know it and some people a bit.

This is Kailash and his son outside their shop.

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I can’t quite remember how we met – though I am sure it was something like ‘come into my shop, buy something for your wife’ – but we had become good ‘friends’ over a few days.  We would sit and talk and drink chai with no pressure to buy – am I repeating myself from the last post? No matter.  Keep that thought in mind, it leads to something awesome, but I will tell the day as it more or less happened.

Lots of places have Cooking Class signs and after trying to do one that didn’t happen, I found another.  I can’t speak for you, but when we cook Indian food, while it is good, the regular lament is why can’t we make it as good as (whatever) restaurant? This is something up with which I need no longer put.

Three hours, cooking 10 dishes, for R1,000 ($20) was a good deal from Vijay Singh.  The plan was to meet at his spice shop at 1000hrs on Sunday and he would take me to his home where his wife would whip me into culinary shape. Ominously, he urged me to come hungry.

That night Francois and 12 friends from the hostel where he was staying came to my hotel for dinner at the rooftop restaurant.  I told him about the class and he instantly said yes.  My kind of guy!

Three of us on a motor bike headed to Vijay’s house stopping along the way for extra supplies (Francois was a surprise addition) and a box of sweets as a gift for the family.

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Chappati pan – I want one!

Tina was delightful.  She and Vijay have two daughters and along with brothers, parents etc there are 13 people living in the house. We get started and the door is closed ostensibly to keep the other kids out (hold this thought too), her kids are in the room with us kind of helping, in a kid way.

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Tina spoke just enough English to know how to joke and take a joke that the 3 hours were so much fun and laughter they whipped by.  She told us the ‘secret’ of Indian cooking and I am going to share it with you.  It isn’t hard: 7 spices.

The seven essential spices - plus some

Note the spice tin with the 7 spices?  Every kitchen has this.  Starting from the middle, then clockwise from top left: cumin seeds, salt, garam masala, turmeric, coriander powder, chilli powder, anise seeds.  Then outside the spice tin: ginger paste, garlic paste, onion paste, dessicated coconut, kasturi methi, something else 🙁 , lemon salt and in the big container, chick pea flour.

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Bindi masala

Basically almost all Indian food is a combination of the 7 essentials, easy huh?  The ’10 dishes’ was a bit of an oversell, one of them being chai, but since I am a convert I don’t really mind.  There was also veg pakora, bindi (okra) masala, palak paneer (spinach and cheese), khichdi (veg rice),  stuffed paratha, plain paratha, chappati, malai kofta and rice pudding.

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Malai kofta with chapatis and plain paratha

Wasn’t it a good thing we came hungry?  Because by the end I could hardly move I was so full.  Lots of notes were taken and hopefully I can recreate this at home.

Remember that thought I told you to hold, no not the one about the shop, the one about Tina cooking and how playful she was?  Vijay came back to pick us up, the 3 hours had stretched to 3 1/2 or so.  As soon as he walked in the door Tina was a changed woman.  The spark had gone, she hardly said another word to us. Vijay took over and showed us rice pudding.

Francois and I both commented on it (to each other) and think the real reason the door was closed was so she could be herself without prying family eyes.  It was remarkable.

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Francois getting even more full

It’s now about 2PM and the final stages of the India wide Diwali cleaning frenzy are in full swing.  We are both so stuffed we head back to our hotels to sleep it off.

Another Dream Heaven Hotel balcony sunset and I head out into the street for Diwali excitement and to be honest, it is a bit underwhelming.  There is only a few fireworks, not a lot of people around.  Kailash explains that people are at home doing puja and it will be big later.  I take his word for it.

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I drop around to the hole in the wall that is the bhang shop and spend R50 on a ball the size of a macadamia nut.  It is mixed with lemon juice and flavouring and due to the peer pressure of others wanting the single cup, I throw it down.  Another thought for you to hold as you meet the bhang wallah with his product.

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This is 100% legal in India

Remember the thought I first asked you to hold (all these thoughts could get confusing, no matter), I wander back to Kailash’s shop and he explains they are waiting for a holy man to do puja and invites me to join them if I would like.  Are you kidding?  This is a rare opportunity and a real honour (as far as I am concerned) and we convene at the back of his shop when holy man arrives.

Some mansplaining: like I said, I regarded this as a privilege and an honour to attend.  It is a rare treat for a tourist I am sure.  So when you read my humorous/cynical observations, please keep them in a context of respect for the ceremony. Please.

I was invited to sit on the floor with Kailash and his wife, but I don’t do floor sitting well and sitting on a bench was fine.  Unfortunately it meant I was a little out of the inner circle, but given my assumption that this wasn’t going to be very long, no big deal. Hah!  India!

I don’t speak Hindi and it seems a lot of negotiating between the holy man and the family was taking place.  I would have thought that the protocol was laid down and quite fixed given the ceremony is very old. But I just made all that up and will never know for sure.

Aside: on the bus to Jodhpur I met a young American bloke named Jack who has been here a couple of months and can speak conversational Hindi…I was most impressed.  He has given me the key to learning how to read Hindi.  Of course I won’t know what it means.

Back to Puja. Please join me for a few minutes of what took place and be thankful I thought to rotate my camera so quickly or your neck would be worse than mine.

Hindu gods must be particularly hard to please, as this ceremony went on for a bum numbing length of time, about an hour.  There were numerous rituals involving water, rice, statues, coconuts and other things.  A lot of time would be spent constructing a balanced pile of items, a bit of water would be dribbled over it and it would be deconstructed.  I do hope one of the millions of gods was pleased.

The bhang had snuck up on me so I was torn between how amazing the ceremony was and how long it kept going.  I was deeply aware of how spiritually deep and significantly important it all was.  It was good bhang.

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And then Kailash’s mobile phone rang in his pocket.  Since he was sitting cross legged on the floor it wasn’t easy to get at and the fact that he, his wife and his son were all trying might have made it more difficult.  The holy man didn’t miss a beat.

Then a customer came into the shop that son had to deal with.  Other interactions kept happening,  photos were OK, distractions didn’t matter, people got up and sat down. I realised that while the ceremony was important for business, it wasn’t all that intense at all.  While not convinced that appealing to any god helps, I do hope it brings Kailash and his family good fortune in their business.  It was an amazing experience and an opportunity that only came out of my “meet the locals” mission during the trip.

By now the streets of Udaipur, in fact the whole of India, is going off in both the “having a good time” sense and the fireworks. In various dispatches I have mentioned the incredible crackers that are known, quite justifiably, as bombs.

Please allow me to introduce you to Rusty Bomb.  As you will see, they are a little cube of death, wound with string and glue.  They cost R5 each and millions (not kidding) are set off over a few days.

I am not exaggerating when I say that they would blow your hand off, I am not sure the video really conveys how powerful they are.  Maybe my reaction gives a hint.

Notice the guy trying to grab it from me? The young guys are really wound up, they are setting them off one after another and you truly need to have your wits about you walking around.  More than once I warned a passerby who wasn’t aware of how close they were to one about to explode.  Fortunately the bombs give off a bright flare for a few seconds before they go off, I like to imagine this is a warning, but it wouldn’t surprise me if that isn’t the intention at all.

It was some time around when the video was taken that I was truly scared for a moment.  It is not unusual for a guy to be lighting a bomb and someone will toss another right behind him – hilarious!  I was videoing one being lit and found myself standing with 2 or 3 going off around me – maybe I was the target of a joke – and I shat myself, really!, quickly withdrawing to safety from then on.

By now I was truly getting my R50 worth of altitude adjustment.  In retrospect the macadamia nut sized ball might have been substituted with a marble sized ball.

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While I have focussed on the fireworks, there is a more gentle side to Diwali and there are undeclared bomb free zones. It is the Festival of Light, one of the biggest festivals and the closest equivalent would be Christmas.  In windows and on doorsteps all over are ghee candles twinkling in the night.  People are dressed up and parading, handing out sweets and wishing each other Happy Diwali.

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Not withstanding the imagined safe zones, the streets were feeling a little dangerous and I was also aware I wasn’t seeing the full effect of the rockets so I retreated to the O’Zen restaurant tower for a meal and the view.  I might have been having trouble walking steadily too.

And what a view!  I was looking over Udaipur as a non stop volley of crackers and rockets erupted and seemingly kept going.  Another couple was on the tower with me and at one point the guy commanded MORE! to the world and the world responded.  Bigger rockets, more of them, everywhere.

Imagine every fireworks display you have ever seen, add them together, multiply it by 1,000 and you get the idea.  Remember that this isn’t Udaipur City Council (if there is such a thing) putting on a display.  We are talking about crowd sourced amazingness from people who have visited the fireworks market.  I tried to video the night and it was so pathetic I am not even going to show you.

Instead, because putting on your Diwali finest is part of the featival, here is a fashion sampler from Sunday night and Monday.

These guys told me they are with the chamber of commerce.

These guys told me they are with the chamber of commerce.

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The cows are dressed up as well

The cows are dressed up as well

I hope you get a bit of an idea of Diwali.  I have now ticked off 2 of the 3 major Indian festivals (Diwali and Ganesh Chaturthi), maybe next year Navratri. 😛

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This was a single day in my travelling life.  No wonder as I pass the half way mark it feels like I have been here for months.

Enjoy a few more photos from Udaipur before we move on to Jodhpur. Today I am going back to the local baoli, 10 minutes walk from the hotel.

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Not a great photos, but these girls playing a card game in the middle of the crazy market (above) was captivating.

Not a great photo, but these girls playing a card game in the middle of the crazy market (above) was captivating.

 

I needed a notebook for the cooking class, spoiled for choice in this shop

I needed a notebook for the cooking class, spoiled for choice in this shop

 

 

 

Bang! Bang! Woosh!

Location: Pushkar

Hotel: Still at Paramount Palace

Tying off a few loose ends again.

This is my new hotel room having moved upstairs.

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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.

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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.

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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

I smudged this one a little

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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.

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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.

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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.

 

 

I am living a Bollywood version of Alien

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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I liked this guy

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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.

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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

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.

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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.

Should I swallow?

…or a banana spreat.  Same thing?

I should sleep well tonight.

High stakes scamming

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.

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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

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

…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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

A religious experience

$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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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Addendum

“My beauty is my smile.” 

This is the motto of the women at Sheroes Hangout, a café run and managed by acid attack survivors in India. They are strong, they are fearless, and they’re challenging the perception of beauty while raising awareness of violence against women.

Nestled amongst a row of busy shopfronts in the famous city of Agra—home to the Taj Mahal—stands a brightly colored two-story café called Sheroes Hangout. This pay-what-you-choose café employs women who have survived harrowing acid attacks, often at the hands of their own family members or romantic partners. According to a 2017 report by USA Today, acid attacks have been on the rise in India, averaging an estimated 250 to 300 victims per year. In India, an estimated 70 percent of acid attack victims are women. Often the acid, which is easily procured and extremely corrosive, leaves its victims deformed, blind, and forever scarred.

 

At Sheroes Hangout, the survivor’s stories are varied. One woman was attacked by a step-parent, jealous of her partner’s child. Another woman was left permanently scarred by her husband who, in his anger over not having been given a son, threw acid on his wife and two sleeping daughters. One young woman was attacked by a group of young men at random, who tossed the deadly liquid at her as she walked down the street.

Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images
Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images

In an effort to address the growing national issue, two young men—Ashish Shukla and Abhay Singh—began the #StopAcidAttacks campaign in Delhi in March 2013. The founders were appalled by the staggering figures of acid attacks in India compounded with the lack of awareness about the violence against the predominantly female victims.

“Someone had to take the initiative,” explains Singh. “Acid attacks could be against males or females, but the majority of acid attacks are gender-biased towards women. We knew we couldn’t reach out to all of those survivors, so we decided to form an organization to represent them.”

The men quickly realized that the campaign’s goal would be to address the challenges that women would face after their attacks. They saw the need for a place where survivors could not only earn an income but also come together and uphold their dignity in society, proudly showing their faces in the safety of an organization that supports them. In December 2014, Sheroes Hangout was opened in Agra followed by a second café established in Lucknow.  

An acid attack survivor working at Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images
An acid attack survivor working at Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images

As a tourist in India, I first came across Sheroes Hangout in January 2017 while on a visit to the famous city of Agra. With its brightly colored décor and a menu of tasty snacks, the café seemed similar to any other but for one stark difference: all of the staff don scars from their life-changing acid attacks. 

There is no need to ask the women what happened to them. Their stories are posted on the walls, played on a video screen, and printed on written materials. Guests are invited to visit the café to enjoy a meal or a drink, all while learning about acid attacks and meeting the strong, resilient women who survived them.

“After the attack, I couldn’t find work. No one would employ me. I had no way to make money” says Maddhu Kashyap, a wife and a mother from an underprivileged area of Agra who works at Sheroes Hangout.

It was only after a group from Sheroes Hangout came to visit Maddhu during one of her hospital stays that she learned about the café as a workplace. Her family was struggling to cover the costs of her injuries and medical expenses, but it was the lack of future income that caused her the greatest anxiety.

“It’s hard to get a job If you’ve been attacked by acid. Companies only want to hire beautiful faces. The government doesn’t give any help to victims,” adds Maddhu. “Now that I’m working at Sheroes Hangout, my children are back at school. It was the foreign people who buy drinks and eat food that helped me. Not the government.”

An acid attack survivor working at Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images
An acid attack survivor working at Sheroes Hangout in India | © Barcroft Media/Getty Images

I speak with Roopa Kashyap, a woman I first met back in 2017. The change I see in this woman in just two years is remarkable. In our first meeting, Roopa proved quiet and shy. On this visit, Roopa sits before me in a black fitted blazer while wearing an expression of self-assurance and confidence. 

“I never used to leave the house. I only left for medical appointments and hospital visits and when I did, I covered my face,” recalls Roopa. “Since joining Sheroes, I no longer cover my face. I make regular appearances and I speak about the Stop Acid Attack campaign. Now, I don’t care what people say.”

Roopa explains to me that when the Sheroes employees hear of a woman who was attacked, they go to meet her,  give comfort, and provide support in those early days. 

“It’s important for us to be together and show that Sheroes understands,” says Roopa with a smile. “We can support each other and continue living our lives.” 

Sheroes Hangout in India | © Sabrina Rubini
Sheroes Hangout in India | © Sabrina Rubini

Unfortunately, due to changes in Agra and a road widening plan, apparently Sheroes Hangout has been forced to move (their Lucknow location remains open). The café is currently closed and a #RebuildingSheroes campaign has been launched to raise funds for the new location. 

I realised I left out a couple of important things along the way, so like all plans, the plan to not add any more to this blog was flexible.  And I just found this in drafts ages later, still worth publishing.

Something has popped up on social media the last couple of days and I can’t believe I didn’t mention it at the time.  In Agra, the location of the Taj Mahal, we visited Sheroes restaurant – twice.  Rather than me explain, read this.  Incredibly brave women with horrific injuries.

Namaste

That’s all folks.  The actual adventure is over but the memories will linger…which is why we do such things.

There are a lot of beliefs and myths and stuff about India that you hear, this is my annotated list of things I wish I had known before I went.

  • India is amazing – it is everything you do and don’t expect and more.  India is an assault on all your senses.  It is colourful, friendly, frustrating, noisy, crowded, spectacular, religious, smelly, funny, not punctual (mostly – but who cares) and absolutely fantastic.IMG_0714(1)
  • Pack light – if I ever go again my entire wardrobe would be 1 pair long pants, 1 pair shorts, 2 cotton shirts, 1 pair sandals/thongs.  That’s it.  You do not need shoes, I carried a pair for 7 weeks that I only wore on the plane over.  If you go north in the winter you might need a jacket.  Obviously this doesn’t count for women, you will still need your entire wardrobe.
  • Water is not such a hassle – I didn’t intentionally drink tap water but I am sure I ingested it many times in drinks, food and the like.  I likely brushed my teeth in tap water out of habit. Don’t freak out about it especially after you have been there a while and gotten accustomed to the flora.  Drinking water is available everywhere, absolutely everywhere, for Rs20 (40c) for a 1 litre bottle

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

  • Not everyone speaks English – this was a bit of a surprise as I had assumed they did, even if not well.  Also, not everyone speaks Hindi, especially in Tamil Naidu.  I learned a handful of Hindi words and could count and then couldn’t use any of it the last week in the South.  Speak in simple sentences even to English speakers.  Don’t say “Can you tell me the way to the railway station please” say “Which way railway station?”.  More often than not people will go out of their way to help you.  Those that don’t will simply point in the general direction or give you a head waggle.
  • Head Waggle – yes it is endemic, here is what it means:

    waggle

    See that little golden spot where all the circles intersect? THAT is the meaning of the head waggle…I think

  • Money is easy – get yourself a Citibank debit card.  No fees, they do a straight 3% loading on currency conversion, it can be used in ATMs everywhere to get local currency (watch for those that charge a transaction fee).  The only problem was some online booking won’t accept a foreign debit card, shop elsewhere, there is always an alternative to buy exactly the same thing.
  • Trains are the best way to travel – install the Cleartrip app, easily the best way to book trains.  If you are travelling overnight get yourself a 2AC seat this is 2nd class Air Conditioned.  You get a bed and linen including a small towel. If you are not that fussy get a sleeper class, reserved bed but that’s all you get.  Avoid general seating at all costs.   Don’t freak out if a train is full a couple of days before and you are wait listed with up to 10 in front of you. In the whole time I was only not confirmed once, that was with The Sheila (she was confirmed) and we both travelled anyway. For trips to the airport and the like Uber and a local version, Ola, also work well.  If you get an overnight bus, be sure to get a sleeper, they are pretty good.IMG_0687(1)
  • Buy a local SIM – cheap as and even if just for using Google maps it is well worth it, especially since they don’t make station announcements on trains so you can check where you are.  You will also get SMS notification about train bookings and the status of your ticket.  I used Airtel, would likely choose another company next time, it was pretty slow internet.
  • You will get sick – maybe not very sick, I didn’t.  But I definitely (and still) had stomach upsets that were more an inconvenience because you need to be aware of the nearest convenience.  I took an arsenal of antibiotics for every ailment you could think of.  Probably better to be prepared than need to go looking for it when you are feeling awful, but I do feel it was overkill.  You can buy any drug over the counter at Medical Stores, even down to asking for how many tablets you want and they will be cut off the strip.IMG_1355(1)
  • Eat street food – obviously not everything you see, but if it looks good, there are lots of people eating i.e. it is fresh and you are hungry, go for it.  Street samosas are the best, don’t be surprised to see someone in front of you feeling them to make sure they are hot.  I really enjoyed fresh sugar cane juice too, very refreshing and a bit of an energy boost.  When you buy street food it is expected that you stand and eat and drink it before you pay for it.  Also, if you need more sauce on your samosa, just ask.food
  • Hotels are mostly good – this is a no brainer, you generally get what you pay for.  Anything over about Rs700 will be reasonable, feel free to check the room first, don’t forget to feel the mattress, they can be very hard, a light pad over a board.  Also check the hot water, don’t take their word for it that there is hot water – not that it matters really, the weather was so hot most of the time a cool shower was welcome.  Towels are rare, take your own travel towel, one of those light ones that dries quickly. Every room has a ceiling fan that you will welcome for the air movement and the speed with which your washed clothes dry. The included Wifi will nearly always be dodgy.  Sometimes a hotel will include breakfast which will sometimes be really good and other times just a piece of white toast with jam.
  • Have a theme – this time my theme was finding stepwells.  It didn’t dominate my trip or distract from anything else, but it was fun to track them down and they are so cool.  Your theme might be bird watching or temple visiting or seeing concerts.  No matter what, it gives you some detective work to do in each location and you never know what it all leads to.  This is where the adventure lies.IMG_0860(1)
  • Go with the toilet flow – I think that washing rather than wiping is cleaner and embraced it.  Finding toilet paper in a hotel is rare, anywhere else it is almost unheard of.  Get used to it, likely 6 billion people in the world do not use TP.
  • Say yes! – this has been an onging theme of the blog because it was my philosophy for the trip.  Saying yes to things I would normally balk at led to some of the most incredible and unique experiences I had.  Obviously you need to make a quick decision on whether it isn’t such a good idea, but I don’t think I had more than a couple of times I knocked back an offer.  Do be aware of people hustling, almost everyone wants something in return for helping you.  But if you are offered a meal or somewhere to stay take it.  The guest is god in India, people are honoured to have you in their homes and treat you unbelievably well.

    I was invited into a Hindu festival celebration. I said yes, it was fantastic.

    I was invited into a Hindu festival celebration. I said yes, it was fantastic.

That’s it.  I have nothing more to say.  I hope you have enjoyed my ramblings and maybe are inspired to have an adventure of your own.  If you have been lurking and gotten this far without commenting, say “hi” in the comments.

IndiaNamaste

Not quite done…

If you get confused about times in this post it is because I am going to compress 4 days into one and use the first person present for the whole thing.  No, it doesn’t make sense to me either.

Kuala Lumpur…hmmm…it is…actually I am not sure the word to describe KL, maybe I will come up with it by the end of the post.  The initial word that comes to mind is clean.  This is definitely a soft landing for returning to Australia from India.  Still in Asia but people mostly obey traffic laws, there are no cows, no rubbish, streets are well maintained, they use machines such as excavators instead of human labour and no visible poverty – at least in our part of town.

We have found a shoebox of a room in Chinatown at Suzie’s Guest House.  Given that we are only sleeping in it, being small doesn’t matter too much, but there isn’t a lot of space for the bucket to catch the condensating water dripping from the AC.  It also got a bit cramped when guy had to come and climb up to the switchboard and reset the electrical switch for the whole place after something I plugged in tripped it.

Post in Chinese Temple, Kuala Lumpur

Post in Chinese Temple, Kuala Lumpur

But it was in an interesting part of town and only a 2 minute walk from the railway station when you knew the way or 15 minutes the first time you walked there.  A few doors down from the hotel was a wonderful Chinese temple, very different to all the Hindu temples in India.

Loved these hanging coils of joss.

Loved these hanging coils of joss.

 

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Packets of joss sticks

Packets of joss sticks

It was right opposite a Hindu temple just like all the Hindu temples in India.  But this being marriage season it was inevitable that one time we walked past we would see love, if not actually present, at least appear to be being consecrated.

We had seen a few pre-marriage celebrations, but this was the first actual ceremony

We had seen a few pre-marriage celebrations, but this was the first actual ceremony

One block over is Petaling Street which I think might be one of the main street markets in the city.  This is the best place to come if you like shoes and watches and handbags and t-shirts multiplied by 50.  By that I mean there were about 50 stalls selling fake designer bags.  Another 50 selling fake brand watches.  Another 50 selling t-shirts.  All selling the same shit.  It is crowded and all the stall holders hassle you to come into their stall which sells the same shit as 49 other stalls you have just passed.  We couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Transformer! Motorcycle converts into street stall. Very clever these Asians

Transformer! Motorcycle converts into street stall. Very clever these Asians

Are you ready for a different currency?  Three Malaysian Ringitt (RM) to the Australian dollar.  I actually found myself converting to Rupees a couple of times since I was so used to them.

The better shopping was behind the market stalls in the shops at the base of the buildings. If you are willing to be a tough haggler and really stick to your guns and go to walk away you will generally get something for about half the original price.   Sometimes the prices are stupid, one place a crappy little wooden Buddha carvings that were worth about RM10 and he was asking RM70, I involuntarily laughed out loud and he immediately said “OK, 50” which means I likely could have gotten it for about 25.  Another place something mediocre was on sale for RM40 and I offered RM20 but wasn’t getting very far.  We eventually got to him saying adamantly “best price is RM25” so I walked out of the shop, he came running “OK 20” but it was too late.   My attitude hardened with this lot, if they are treating us like a soft touch and trying to take advantage I am not that interested in giving them my money.

Next day we decided to head on a big walking loop through the Central Market (more shops selling more of the same shit and some even worse shit) where Sheila finally found her dream sarongs.  But of course by this time there was a hitch with finances.  I hadn’t thought far enough ahead to transfer funds to the debit card I could use to pull cash from ATMs, you know how your money goes into that banking black hole for a couple of days?  So for a day we were watching our Ringits, exchanging some $US and wondering if it was worth cashing in our Rupees.  Fortunately the next day the funds arrived and we could eat, more importantly, Sheila could shop.

The walk took us to the KL Bird Park which is touted as the world’s largest free flight aviary on one sign and SE Asia’s largest on another.  Either way, it was big and as much as I hate birds in cages, this was a mighty big cage to the point of not really being one.  Except where the birds were in small cages for some reason.

The peafowl must be happy, there is a lot of them and they seem to be breeding quite happily.

The peafowl must be happy, there is a lot of them and they seem to be breeding quite happily.

 

Spotted this snake stalking a gecko that was desperately trying to not be lunch.

Spotted this beautiful snake stalking a gecko that was desperately trying to not be lunch.

 

Koi feeding frenzy

Koi feeding frenzy

KL also has a free bus that does a loop around the city so we jumped on and off that a few times, heading to the the famed Lo Yat Plaza, the huge technology building.  It wasn’t long before I had a feeling of deja vu, as though I had been there before.  This was because I realised I had actually been there before a few years ago and in fact nothing had changed apart from the iphone model number.  Six floors of nothing but computers and phones and IT stuff.  Unless you are after something specific and know the price this place is just too big and overwhelming and like the market, too many shops selling exactly the same shit at too high a price.

Lo Yat Plaza

Lo Yat Plaza

From there we wound our way to the famous Petronas Towers via a network of confusing underground tunnels that lead to the ground floor of the towers and, you guessed it, more shops.  But these were not just ordinary shops, they were extra ordinary and I don’t mean extraordinary. Pick a brand name and the shop will be there, we could have been in any shopping mall in any city in the world.  We couldn’t wait to get out…again.

At least on the outside you can get a sense of the scale of the buildings that were apparently built as a beacon to lead people to the shops and a celebration of fossil fuels (Petronas is an oil company).  They are big and impressive for sure and the walkway that bridges them gives a sense of strength to the buildings.

Petronas Towers KL

Petronas Towers KL

 

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Opposite the towers

Heading back to the hotel we walk through a park and there is a big marquee set up.  I suggest we go in and check it out, Sheila is reluctant but in we go where it is a bit cooler and a bit confusing what it is all about.  As we are leaving a guy comes up to me and asks if I speak English.  He explains that the event is a regional promotional expo for Terengannu and their stand is promoting English languages courses, could they interview me.  Yes! of course and I give what I hope is a good talk about English being useful but to be sure to hang on to their native language and culture, that making a connection with the person is more important than having perfect language and I am generally very profound and insightful.  Most unlike me and I realise it.

He asks for a final general endorsement of the programme, about which I actually know absolutely nothing.  This is my monologue as best I can remember and abbreviated a bit, you’ll get the idea.

“Thank you for the opportunity of addressing you and endorsing your wonderful programme.  As the Prime Minister of Australia I want to tell you how excited I am to see such programmes blossoming in our region.  I fully endorse the programme and promise to send billions of dollars in Australian aid to support it.  We will also send food, clothes and beer.  It is been my honour attending your expo today, as the Prime Minister I thank you for the invitation.”

They laughed a lot and loved it.  Whether or not it will be useful is debatable.  As usual, honoured guests had to appear in a photo.

Prime Minister of Australia and Ms Prime Minister pose with the locals.

Prime Minister of Australia and Ms Prime Minister pose with the locals.

Speaking of saying Yes!, it can be tricky getting The Sheila to do something she thinks is a bit silly, but witha bit of coaxing…  This was also at the expo, such fun.

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They are trying to make this an iconic KL sculpture, we'll help by including it in a blog that is read by a handful of people.

They are trying to make this an iconic KL sculpture, we’ll help by including it in a blog that is read by a handful of people.

And then we were at the airport heading for home.  A huge hat tip to Air Asia for what is the worst check-in experience I have had in my life.  KL airport is huge and a bit confusing at the best of times.  We find Air Asia and there are hundreds of people standing in lines at four areas, each area has maybe 5 check-in desks working.  There is no indication of which area or which line you should be in, they all just say “Baggage Drop” so we get in one line that moves very slowly.  It isn’t like we have chosen the wrong line, they are all moving very slowly.

Unfortunately the hands on the clock are moving quite quickly and about 20 minutes before the flight closes I estimate that we are still over 30 minutes from the front of the line.  We lose our position to find a better line or somewhere to queue jump and completely fail.  I ask an Air Asia guy what we should do, the flight closes in 10 minutes now.  He says “get on the back of any line” and I again explain that the flight is closing and we will not make it.  Again he says to just get on a line.  I say “Mate, I don’t want to fight with you, but you are not helping me one bit, we will miss our flight”.  Perhaps he thinks this is Australian for “I am going to biff you” because he then suggests just pushing to the front of one of the very long lines.  Great!

But I see it as the solution, so I grab the one bag we are checking and brazenly walk past all the patient people in one of the lines, up to the desk and tell the bloke “if you don’t check this bag now we are going to miss the flight” and bugger me, he does.  The people I push in front of are even helpful and pass the bag to the scales and we finally breathe a sigh of relief…well I do.  I don’t freak out often but this had me worried, it is like Air Asia have never done this before…completely useless.

We are on the plane heading home.  I offer some gastri-stop that we thankfully never had to use to the woman sitting in my row who needs it and then, just when you think nothing else serendipitous can happen, as I am filling out my immigration card,her husband sitting next to me points something out.

Imagine how confusing this would have been indentifying body parts

Imagine how confusing this would have been identifying body parts

And now we are home, I have finished this post and I haven’t come up with the word to describe KL.

Tomorrow I will do one more post, it might be a best of, it could be a warning, it might be encouragement.  I’ll sleep on it.

When we left India, despite my encouraging her to get some henna design on her hand, Sheila regretted not doing it. In KL someone was doing some at (believe it or not) Backpackers Day.       Thanks to Google photos for the auto awesome animation.

 

The final result looks even better a couple of days later

This is the final result, it looks even better a couple of days later.