transport – Page 2 – Travels

On my last legs

Posted on November 19, 2016 by Steve

Location: Delhi

Hotel: Surya, one of hundreds along a road near the railway station

It’s taken a few days to write this, so some things are a bit out of sequence and tense.

Tomorrow (Friday) I head to Delhi for my flight home on Sunday. I was looking for a photo in an early post and it is hard to believe that stuff happened only 5 weeks ago. Feels like last year. Places and events have melted together and it can be hard to remember what happened where and when. This blog may help me piece it all together in the winter of !y life – next week.

I am not the first person who enjoys wandering aimlessly npt worried about getting lost. I have some of the best experiences during my many trips by heading down lanes and towards something interesting.

I stumbled upon this group of kids crowded on a rickshaw about to be delivered home after school. It is my new favourite photo this trip I think.

I was glad I also managed to get some video.

It is the start of wedding season in India so there is lots of dancing and really loud music into the night.

I’m tired. My feet hurt from walking and each foot has a couple of cracks in the skin which are tender. There’s no electricity in the area at the moment. Last night I didn’t sleep well, too hot with a blanket, too cold without. Someone is smoking in the hallway outside my room and it stinks. My flight is in 36 hours or so and I think my brain is in going home mode.

Walking from the metro station to the hotel involves walking over a footbridge that crosses the main, huge, New Delhi railway station platforms. There is a steady stream of people crossing and as I approach the stairs a security guy – can’t call them a guard – shouts and points at a sign no entry. I paused for a moment, remembered T.I.I. – This Is India – and followed all the other people who he hasn’t yelled at. He didn’t give a shit, which I imagine is part of the job description.

Can’t you just picture the joy on the faces of kindergarten kiddies when they these colourful characters every morning?

Back in Jaipur I had a day to fill before heading to Delhi. I had heard about Chand Baori earlier in the year and it was on my list of places visit. I was planning to go last time in Jaipur but Ajeet took us on that amazing adventure. So I decided to head there this time using local buses, it’s about 90km from the city.

First a bus 90 minutes down the highway to Sikandara. From Sikandara you catch either a jeep or tuk tuk 20 minutes to the village of Abhaneri. I negotiated a price of R200 for the tuk tuk ride there, he would wait and then bring me back. I don’t begrudge $4 for the service, but when I realise other people – he picks up as many as will fit in – are only paying R10 or R15 each way it irks somewhat.

Chand Baori is one of the biggest and oldest baoli and was truly spectacular.

I think the shipping might be quite expensive, but I really want doors like these from the back streets of Jaipur.

That’s it, it’s all you get this time. Maybe one more post from Delhi and then home.

Camels, Water Buffaloes and Siberian Hamsters*

Posted on November 12, 2016 by Steve

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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!

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

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!!!

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

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

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

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

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.

Finally, the plan kicks in

Posted on October 26, 2016 by Steve

Location: Pushkar

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

Reminder: $AUD1 = R50

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for the collage Google photos

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For Bunty

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

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

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

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

He’s not wearing them in this shot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I did some things…

Posted on October 23, 2016 by Steve

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

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

To continue the “sleeping anywhere” theme.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Definitely not a Jewish god

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is a different baoli…

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

This is that baoli ;o)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I bought some carpets.

So, you think you work hard…

Posted on October 19, 2016 by Steve

Location: Jaipur

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the way to the bus I spot this

I wonder if he dreamed of filling them with helium

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

What could possibly go wrong?

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

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

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

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

Cows and people, they’ll sleep anywhere

I am living a Bollywood version of Alien

Posted on October 18, 2016 by Steve

Still in Agra at the Bonfire Hostel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I liked this guy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…or a banana spreat. Same thing?

I should sleep well tonight.

High stakes scamming

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Steve

Where? Still in Agra at Bonfire Hostel

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

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

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

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

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

You can never have too much coriander

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

…or potatoes

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

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

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

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

dismal indeed

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Posted on October 16, 2016 by Steve

Location: Agra, not part of the plan

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

Bonfire Guest House 4 stars*

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

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

Similarly I mentioned good omens yesterday – stupid me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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