Kuala Lumpur Dec 27th
The name of city is derived from the fact that it stands where two rivers meet and then become muddy and murky from all the sediment that is deposited. However the city is far from muddy – it is similar to Singapore, high tech and modern, remarkably also – everyone speaks English and there are KFC’s and Mac D’s everywhere! Not what I was expecting from Malaysia.
We have a disaster upon arrival – we try to withdraw cash from about 30 different cash machines in the train station and everyone is coming back declined. We begin to worry our account has been frozen or frauded and we’re stuck with no cash and no idea what to do – the situation only made worse by smack my bitch up being randomly repeated over the station tanoy. Luckily, I brought some sterling for such eventualities but I really didn’t want to tap into it already: It’s pretty stressful arriving within a foreign unknown country at 7am with no cash though, so we bite the bullet and get some cash changed. We later learn that the fact the card isn’t working is a stupid rule that you can only withdraw twice in 24 hours; at least it’s nothing major!
We head to some random hostels I have the flyer for and get a decent room for just over a tenner (70 ringgits): it’s a nice place with a tropical motif and beach hut feel, although the room stinks of wee a bit but it’s not too bad. We drop our bags and head off as usual with no idea what to expect. The hostel is near the Times Square area (I’m sure they nicked the idea from N.Y) and the streets are very colourful and active. There are massage parlours and fish spas (where fish eat the dead skin on your feet – yummy) and many boutiques and shops selling knock off designer clothes and sun glasses, we bypass these but stop in Mac D’s for the obligatory coffee.
KL has an amazing transport system and after another pick and mix lunch we get a bus for 1 ringgit (20p), we find out the buses are 1R flat rate which is pretty good it seems once again our money is worth something . We head to the central market area and are greeted by bustling streets that seem a combo of India and Singapore, to Kath’s delight she manages to order a Chai at the Indian food court – there is a real blend of culture here with Indian, Chinese and European all mixed together to create a cosmopolitan feel (although it is predominantly Muslim the dress and attitudes seem much less traditional than India).
The market is a bit touristy and prices high so we walk through and head along the river exploring the tourist trial. There are amazing blends of architecture that parallel the blend of people, with mosque style domes and minarets often seen across from 19th century British buildings the highlight of which is a club house and cricket pavilion that sits among the high rises. Another amazing structure is an Indian style skyscraper in imitation white marble with no windows – just cut out patterns reminiscent of those seen on the Taj: very unique.
We head now to an area of gardens on the periphery of the city, it is a good long walk but worthwhile, as acres of greenery and flower beds span across the length of the city – excellent for relaxation in the muggy tropical weather. We stumble across an aviary but pass because of the entrance fee, we also pass an observatory and Islamic museum but unfortunately we learn everything is closed on Monday which sucks. We do get to explore the amazingly modern National Mosque which is an amazing blend of modern and traditional architecture – and offers good views over the urban vista. We have to don silly purple cloaks to adhere to tradition (or maybe just because they like to make the tourists look like pricks).
We head now to the national museum and learn something about Malaysian history and culture, the funniest exhibit being a beat up proton car from the year we were born (1985). It’s been a long day as we arrived so early and we’ve walked for miles, so we head to china town for some relaxation – on the way we see an amazing hindu pagoda, much more impressive than that in Singapore. The colourful deities and paintings stand out from anything I have seen before – as do the men wearing Tarzan style loin cloths lazing beneath their Gods.
For dinner we find an authentic local food court and get some exciting soups, mine is particularly interesting, coming in classic Malay styleon an iron hot plate (still sizzling) and complete with chunky bits of on the bone chicken and a fried egg in a thick black sauce: not bad for a quid (5R). We finish up with a few beers (not so cheap but more affordable) and mix cheap local gin with sprite, listening to tunes by the hostel. I also catch united highlights in the local bar, and see Anderson and berba tearing it up at snowy OT.
Dec28th KL day 2
We decide to stay an extra day in KL mainly just to see the Petronas towers which were closed yesterday, also the night life seemed pretty cool – with everyone hitting the streets at about 10-11pm, which is something we haven’t seen before. Things don’t exactly go to plan though, it rains again all day long, making everything pretty difficult. It’s not so bad when it rains as it is still warm, but occasionally the downpours come so heavy that two or three minutes will soak you to the bone, especially given that your usually wearing shorts and a vest. It’s pretty annoying because it’s so hot when you’re walking about but if it catches you you’re screwed. Anyway, we spend most of the morning/early afternoon just sorting out future tickets and travel arrangements. Good job too, because the coach station is out of action and a temporary station on the outskirts houses the ticket offices – I buy a ticket here for tomorrows coach.
We spend the afternoon checking out the shopping mall at times square, pretty cool with over ten floors, the highlights of which are arcades where you can play for 20p a game and an indoor theme park (although we can’t pay for entry as were too late in the day), the indoor rollercoaster is pretty cool to watch going by. We get the metro to the Petronas towers which are beautiful, even more so in the night. The layered metallic surface is light up to form beautiful concentric rings which rise meteorically from the ground upwards. One of these towers would be magnificent but the two perfectly symmetrical structures joined by a bridge create a truly unique and awesome vision: the X of the bridges support adding to the perfect duplication. They shine in the night like no other building I have ever seen; maybe they’re not the tallest buildings in the world, but they are definitely the most fantastic modern man-made structures I have ever seen. Unfortunately we can’t go up as it is closed at 7 which is a real bummer, even worse it starts hammering down and we get drenched. The only positive is the food court within, which you would think would be a rip off, given that the mall has chanel and harrods and Armani stores – however I get a gorgeously spicy claypot chicken (that shits on sweet mandarin’s) for 6.50! (£1.30).
We head back to our neck of the woods to sample the nightlife, except its still pissing down and we have to jump in a taxi. The people it seems have hidden away indoors, still we have some top nosh, squid in oyster sauce and Kath goes for Frog Porridge which is what it sounds like. Bizarre gloopy glutinous rice porridge comes with a spicy black sauce that is so thick it sticks to the tub. Within this fiery tar come the little deep fried frog’s legs; think of them as tiny chicken wings – nice flavour but with a little more gamey tone like rabbit. Another new experience and not bad for a couple of quid. We can’t find any decent bars again – so we get shisha and drink some gin on the cheap while watching Tottenham vs Newcastle.
Friday, 31 December 2010
Thursday, 30 December 2010
Singapore Xmas 2010
Christmas Day
We awake to sweaty muggy heat and a room full of random people we don’t know – no stockings and presents – its seems like Santa skips off Singapore when he’s doing his rounds. We don’t need presents though, this whole journey is better than any gift we could have and waking up to sunshine everyday beats a brand new ps3. We get our stuff together and head across town to lavender on the MRT as we have booked in to the drop inn so we can have a nicer private room. I stop on the way at an awesome food court where we get brunch. There are a lot of stands that do a kind of Malay pick and mix where you get a big chunk of rice then you select various meat or veg dishes to accompany it and you pay a small amount for each selection. I get an awesome chicken and pork one, along with some vegetables all for 3$ (£1.50). The hostel is a long way from the station and it takes a while with our bags, the area is very different with a few banks and office buildings and much less nightlife, but still a pretty decent spot.
We c heck in and make use of free wi-fi, watching the final apprentice and sending e-mails etc. The hostel is pretty cool with a good chill out area ad friendly staff. They also let us buy beer from across the road and drink it in there which is good. I’m determined to have a few beers (come on it’s Christmas!) Even if it is super expensive! Around 3 we set off into the city to enjoy Christmas day – I stop at the shops on the way to pick up beers and drink them en route – I make sure I don’t take them on the train though, I’ve already been rollocked twice for trying to have a sip of water, it’s probably the death penalty for beer on the tube!
We head to the Marina bay sands hotel as we have decided to splash out and enjoy ourselves given that it’s Christmas. On the way the skies begin to darken and It looks as if another thunder storm could be on the way. We begrudgingly part with our $40 4ntry fee and head to the elevators to go to the roof. The view from the top doesn’t disappoint – the skyscrapers across the water slowly begin to shine as the daylight fades – lit up they are incandescent testaments to singapore’s wealth and success. The scene is dramatic as orange light turns into sinister dark cloud and thunder and lightning cracks on the horizon. Suddenly the heavens open and the sky flashes and a full on storms breaks loose, a bit scary when you’re in a garden in the sky. We are ushered away from the open areas and forced to seek refuge in the corridors and halls leading between the various areas. Here we see an amazing swimming pool that edges onto the horizon, literally going all the way to the precipice! On looking tourists and ourselves dream that one day we can afford to stay in the hotel and swim there. As the storm worsens and is unrelenting we eventually rush back down to ground level anlong with other disgruntled tourists, we however are delighted – as soon as it started thundering I prayed it would continue, the reason being as our visit was cut short we are entitled to a full refund, and that meant we could afford the luxury of a beer in a bar! Merry Christmas!!
We made the romantic walk back along the bridge and to the Merlion where we were due to eat our Christmas dinner- lightning dramatically flashing across the skyline at regular intervals. We had an amazing view right on the dock where the boats go and the merlion spits water into the bay. The food was good too, roast turkey with stuffing and vegetables, presented in a gourmet style – the only downside was that when I asked for cranberry sauce we just got a bemused look of confusion, still plenty of gravy did the trick and it was top notch, and no washing up! For pudding we had traditional Christmas pudding and custard and it was the highlight of the whole day for me – lush and moist and rich with brandy it was a delight, I ate mine and half of Kath’s and I could have had more! Polish it off with a black coffee and it was a brilliant Christmas dinner in the best setting ever, the storm around us adding to the excitement and atmosphere.
We finished up with a boat ride in the rain to the quayside, the boat captain allowing us the opportunity to drive the boat and pose for photos, sadly though all the pictures were munched by windows #(bummer) so this account while have to help our memory of the night. Due to the rain the bars were quite dead and we end up having a drink in the man utd cafe as it is the cheapest place around and I like looking at the signed shirts and memorabilia. We finish up with drinks back at the hotel – me pushing the boat out for a 8$ glass of wine. All in all a top day that wasn’t ruined by the rain – it only added to making us feel at home on this first Christmas away from family.
Boxing day
Today were feeling better and it’s a good job because the order of the day is eating and drinking Singapore style. We meet up with our friend Seth from our adventures in Agra – being the top man that he is he greets us with a Christmas gift, it is a brilliant gesture and means we don’t have Christmas without a single present. Seth knows his way round Singapore and starts by taking us for lunch near Arab Street where there is a famous mosque, it is pretty impressive but after India it’s hard to be moved by anything less than spectacular. We sample Malaysian food, in a similar pick and mix style as before, it is delicious and spicy and a real joy to be able to eat it!
We get the tour of Singapore, passing on the way an amazing gothic building which we learn has been purposefully built to resemble Gotham City; it is spectacularly sinister and stands out from all the shinning glass and mirrored structures. We also learn interestingly that feng-shui has a big role to play in the layout of the city, with pointed edges often aimed at empty plots of land or parks because it is considered bad luck to build in line from them. Once were back near Raffles and the built up area we sample a strange local craze called bubble tea. The tea has an unusual taste, somewhere between tea and coffee and it has 100s of weird balls at the bottom of it which are really chewy – it is bizarre to drink and chew and the same time.
We then head to the top floor of the library where you can get a very quiet and free view of the skyline, Seth agrees that it looks like Sim City with all the perfect lines and clean surfaces. We then head for a beer, myself sampling some mee hoon noodle soup complete with minced pork and meat balls. We order some mad strong beer which Kath has to water down with lemonade – seth suggests mixing it with Guinness which sounds pretty hardcore!
A little tipsy we head on for dinner and find the best food court in Singapore, with row after row of stalls selling all kinds of amazing stuff. We have chicken rice, which is strips of chicken with an amazing kind of black bean sauce served with tasty rice, and we also have some Singapore noodle dish with prawns. We finish up by sampling the Durian, not for the faint hearted! The fruit stinks to high heaven, a sort of putrid sewerage smell and this isn’t exactly appetizing. The fruit itself is bizarre, turning into a gooey mess as soon as you tuck into it, parts are pleasant and sweet but some still have the flavour of sewers and rottenness that you get in the smell. All in all I’m glad I tried it but wouldn’t pay for it again, Seth on the other hand loves it, apparently the locals say you can’t beat Durians when it comes to fruit, I disagree!
We part company with Seth and vow to meet again, he is such a laid back and friendly guy, hopefully we can show him round Manchester one day. Afterwards we head back to the hostel to grab our bags and head for the train to Kuala Lumpur. On the way to the train we get lost and end up having to flag the cab but we make it there in the end. The train is even more spacious and comfortable than those in India, with wider berths and quieter carriages. We miss the guys coming round selling chai and samosas though. The only sketchy part of the journey is when we are marched off the train to clear customs, it all is simple enough but a bit confusing when you don’t know what is going on. We have to leave all our stuff on the train and are worried it will leave without us. Fortunately everything is ok and we head off to KL.
We awake to sweaty muggy heat and a room full of random people we don’t know – no stockings and presents – its seems like Santa skips off Singapore when he’s doing his rounds. We don’t need presents though, this whole journey is better than any gift we could have and waking up to sunshine everyday beats a brand new ps3. We get our stuff together and head across town to lavender on the MRT as we have booked in to the drop inn so we can have a nicer private room. I stop on the way at an awesome food court where we get brunch. There are a lot of stands that do a kind of Malay pick and mix where you get a big chunk of rice then you select various meat or veg dishes to accompany it and you pay a small amount for each selection. I get an awesome chicken and pork one, along with some vegetables all for 3$ (£1.50). The hostel is a long way from the station and it takes a while with our bags, the area is very different with a few banks and office buildings and much less nightlife, but still a pretty decent spot.
We c heck in and make use of free wi-fi, watching the final apprentice and sending e-mails etc. The hostel is pretty cool with a good chill out area ad friendly staff. They also let us buy beer from across the road and drink it in there which is good. I’m determined to have a few beers (come on it’s Christmas!) Even if it is super expensive! Around 3 we set off into the city to enjoy Christmas day – I stop at the shops on the way to pick up beers and drink them en route – I make sure I don’t take them on the train though, I’ve already been rollocked twice for trying to have a sip of water, it’s probably the death penalty for beer on the tube!
We head to the Marina bay sands hotel as we have decided to splash out and enjoy ourselves given that it’s Christmas. On the way the skies begin to darken and It looks as if another thunder storm could be on the way. We begrudgingly part with our $40 4ntry fee and head to the elevators to go to the roof. The view from the top doesn’t disappoint – the skyscrapers across the water slowly begin to shine as the daylight fades – lit up they are incandescent testaments to singapore’s wealth and success. The scene is dramatic as orange light turns into sinister dark cloud and thunder and lightning cracks on the horizon. Suddenly the heavens open and the sky flashes and a full on storms breaks loose, a bit scary when you’re in a garden in the sky. We are ushered away from the open areas and forced to seek refuge in the corridors and halls leading between the various areas. Here we see an amazing swimming pool that edges onto the horizon, literally going all the way to the precipice! On looking tourists and ourselves dream that one day we can afford to stay in the hotel and swim there. As the storm worsens and is unrelenting we eventually rush back down to ground level anlong with other disgruntled tourists, we however are delighted – as soon as it started thundering I prayed it would continue, the reason being as our visit was cut short we are entitled to a full refund, and that meant we could afford the luxury of a beer in a bar! Merry Christmas!!
We made the romantic walk back along the bridge and to the Merlion where we were due to eat our Christmas dinner- lightning dramatically flashing across the skyline at regular intervals. We had an amazing view right on the dock where the boats go and the merlion spits water into the bay. The food was good too, roast turkey with stuffing and vegetables, presented in a gourmet style – the only downside was that when I asked for cranberry sauce we just got a bemused look of confusion, still plenty of gravy did the trick and it was top notch, and no washing up! For pudding we had traditional Christmas pudding and custard and it was the highlight of the whole day for me – lush and moist and rich with brandy it was a delight, I ate mine and half of Kath’s and I could have had more! Polish it off with a black coffee and it was a brilliant Christmas dinner in the best setting ever, the storm around us adding to the excitement and atmosphere.
We finished up with a boat ride in the rain to the quayside, the boat captain allowing us the opportunity to drive the boat and pose for photos, sadly though all the pictures were munched by windows #(bummer) so this account while have to help our memory of the night. Due to the rain the bars were quite dead and we end up having a drink in the man utd cafe as it is the cheapest place around and I like looking at the signed shirts and memorabilia. We finish up with drinks back at the hotel – me pushing the boat out for a 8$ glass of wine. All in all a top day that wasn’t ruined by the rain – it only added to making us feel at home on this first Christmas away from family.
Boxing day
Today were feeling better and it’s a good job because the order of the day is eating and drinking Singapore style. We meet up with our friend Seth from our adventures in Agra – being the top man that he is he greets us with a Christmas gift, it is a brilliant gesture and means we don’t have Christmas without a single present. Seth knows his way round Singapore and starts by taking us for lunch near Arab Street where there is a famous mosque, it is pretty impressive but after India it’s hard to be moved by anything less than spectacular. We sample Malaysian food, in a similar pick and mix style as before, it is delicious and spicy and a real joy to be able to eat it!
We get the tour of Singapore, passing on the way an amazing gothic building which we learn has been purposefully built to resemble Gotham City; it is spectacularly sinister and stands out from all the shinning glass and mirrored structures. We also learn interestingly that feng-shui has a big role to play in the layout of the city, with pointed edges often aimed at empty plots of land or parks because it is considered bad luck to build in line from them. Once were back near Raffles and the built up area we sample a strange local craze called bubble tea. The tea has an unusual taste, somewhere between tea and coffee and it has 100s of weird balls at the bottom of it which are really chewy – it is bizarre to drink and chew and the same time.
We then head to the top floor of the library where you can get a very quiet and free view of the skyline, Seth agrees that it looks like Sim City with all the perfect lines and clean surfaces. We then head for a beer, myself sampling some mee hoon noodle soup complete with minced pork and meat balls. We order some mad strong beer which Kath has to water down with lemonade – seth suggests mixing it with Guinness which sounds pretty hardcore!
A little tipsy we head on for dinner and find the best food court in Singapore, with row after row of stalls selling all kinds of amazing stuff. We have chicken rice, which is strips of chicken with an amazing kind of black bean sauce served with tasty rice, and we also have some Singapore noodle dish with prawns. We finish up by sampling the Durian, not for the faint hearted! The fruit stinks to high heaven, a sort of putrid sewerage smell and this isn’t exactly appetizing. The fruit itself is bizarre, turning into a gooey mess as soon as you tuck into it, parts are pleasant and sweet but some still have the flavour of sewers and rottenness that you get in the smell. All in all I’m glad I tried it but wouldn’t pay for it again, Seth on the other hand loves it, apparently the locals say you can’t beat Durians when it comes to fruit, I disagree!
We part company with Seth and vow to meet again, he is such a laid back and friendly guy, hopefully we can show him round Manchester one day. Afterwards we head back to the hostel to grab our bags and head for the train to Kuala Lumpur. On the way to the train we get lost and end up having to flag the cab but we make it there in the end. The train is even more spacious and comfortable than those in India, with wider berths and quieter carriages. We miss the guys coming round selling chai and samosas though. The only sketchy part of the journey is when we are marched off the train to clear customs, it all is simple enough but a bit confusing when you don’t know what is going on. We have to leave all our stuff on the train and are worried it will leave without us. Fortunately everything is ok and we head off to KL.
Sunday, 26 December 2010
singapore dec 23 24
Singapore.
People said three-four days was far too much for Singapore, and if they were talking about the impact on the budget they were right – but in terms of running out of stuff to do; not a chance. You could spend a whole week in Changi International Airport, it has free internet, cinemas, wildlife parks, swimming pool, fitness spa etc etc. I think it was designed to give you an impression of what Singapore is all about, and it succeeds; Singapore is all about futuristic high tech luxury and class. Five star hotels adorn every corner in the marina area – leading to a pyrotechnic skyline the highlight of which is the insane Marina Sands resort, 3 huge towers connected by what looks like a bizarre shipwreck across the top – which we later found contains a park and swimming pool!
It isn’t only high tech and business orientated though, underneath the clean and polished exterior there is a distinct Chinese culturalism bursting out, with street after street of stalls selling amazing foods like turtle soup and pig’s intestine broth, just as a couple of examples. The overall effect is a beautiful city, not in the way of European cities like Bruges or Vienna, but in a truly unique and modern-futuristic way and one which is made all the more amazing given its situation among many less developed counterparts.
23rd December
We head to the Up-Market Marina area without any plan or direction. We find the MRT system so easy to follow, everything is sign posted – your station lights up on the tube map when you reach it, and then led lights indicate which side the doors will open on when you reach there, then on the way out you will be advised exactly which street your exit will take you too with options ABCD indicated on a map. It’s a million miles from India with its chaos and disorder.
We wander past an amazing white cathedral and round to city hall and soon realise the heat here is intense, not what we are used to, but a murky cloudy stifling heat that has you panting and sweating after a few steps. We still aren’t 100% after our illness also, so it takes it out of us. Therefore we just wander with a plan to take it easy today. We stumble across the Esplanade Theatre, a vast spiky mirrored building that reflects the light like a futuristic sonic the hedgehog. We get lost in the vast building with its modern art exhibitions and shopping arcades round every corner. Eventually we reach the roof top and take in the amazing skyline.
We carry on wandering through the afternoon, making a reservation for Christmas dinner and taking pictures whilst dodging tourists at the water spitting lion aptly named the Merlion. We slowly make our way across to the previously mentioned 3 tower shipwreck that we later find is the marina sands. It is quite a mission and we find it costs 20$ each to enter so give it a miss, but we see amazing sights on the way. We pass through a shopping centre on the scale of the Trafford centre, which absolutely oozes spaciousness; unlike any other shopping mall I have seen it has no walls or floors separating the space, just a continuous body of vast emptiness – within which the architect has allowed the odd shopping arcade or elevator. It is elegant to say the least, reminding me of art an art gallery more than a mall. Children ice skate at the bottom of the first building while a river runs through the second – we start to realise this kind of surprising stuff comes as standard in Singapore.
We head back across the bay along the technical marvel that is the double helix bridge, a mass of twisted steel and led lights that is modelled on nature’s greatest achievement a strand of DNA. We eventually get back to the Esplanade where in the amazing outdoor arena we catch a free show by a very unusual band. The chicken shack revival is an all Singaporean blues ensemble with ukulele bass and a mean harmonica, they rock the place and it’s great fun to watch them sing a few Christmas classics.
We head back to our hostel in the Geylang region, which is a colourful area with many amazing food stalls and oriental super-markets. We also see many flush locals getting drunk (pretty extravagant when it costs 10$/£5 for a beer) – there are many strange clubs with big closed off doors the purpose of which we can’t quite decide, maybe it’s nothing but they all seem quite seedy – especially given that scantily clad women seem to hang outside them! We later decide this must be the red light district as lots of provocatively dressed women adorn the street corners. Unfortunately due to our dodgey stomachs we can’t sample the food and have to make do with a burger king! What sacrilege, I can’t wait for my digestion to get back to normal.
Dec 24th
Christmas Eve and we get up and head out downtown once again. I brave some spicy noodle soup for breakfast although Kath’s stomach is still churning – at least Singapore is the best place in the world to have the squits, there are perfectly clean toilets everywhere. We don’t do a great deal this day; check out a lot of the same areas as before really. First thing we head to the train station (quite a mission) to book our night train tickets to Kuala Lumpur which we box off at 40$ each. Then a failed expedition to the beach leads us to Chinatown where I buy a beer from the shop and smuggle it into a coffee shop to save money, No way I’m paying 10$ for a pint! Chinatown is impressive to look at from the outside with amazing pagodas and colourful streets, however look past this facade and you will realise it is over-commercialised and unauthentic – with stall after stall selling tacky fans and I heart Singapore t-shirts: also not a single food hawker in sight, just proper sit down resteraunts at tourist prices.
We check out boat quay by the riverside on the way back and are reminded of Amsterdam or Paris with little cafes and coffee tables covered by verandas, however before we can take much in we are caught in an intense down-pour and people start running for cover. We get our first taste here of Singapore’s erratic and heavy storms, as we instantly become surrounded by a torrent of water. The rain pelts off the plastic coverings and creates a cacophony of sound, it feels like were inside a washing machine on spin-cycle. Reluctantly we bite the bullet and get a beer at the red dot cafe for 8$ (360ml!) I’m not happy, but it is quite romantic as we drink our beers and watch the rain hammer down upon the river – the majestic Fullerton standing across the water.
We head back to the marina once the rain stops and check out the famous Raffles hotel. Smaller than most it makes up for size with grandeur and old fashioned classiness, looking as if it was lifted straight from 1920’s high society. The interior matches the facade with opulent boutiques and a resteraunt which is clearly beyond our price bracket; we also check out the long bar which again looks like some 1920s Victorian bar, however I’m not wearing my smoking jacket so we give it a miss.
Across the way we find a beautiful white church slap bang in the middle of a shopping mall – only in Singapore right – then we try to reach the bar of the Swiss Hotel in order to soak up the view. Unfortunately short sleeves and short legs are apparently a no go and we are refused entry. Oh well, we catch some more live music (Christmas jazz) down at the theatre again and head home early to have a few beers. We catch up on the apprentice via the wi-fi in the hotel and it makes a welcome reminder of home at Christmas time.
People said three-four days was far too much for Singapore, and if they were talking about the impact on the budget they were right – but in terms of running out of stuff to do; not a chance. You could spend a whole week in Changi International Airport, it has free internet, cinemas, wildlife parks, swimming pool, fitness spa etc etc. I think it was designed to give you an impression of what Singapore is all about, and it succeeds; Singapore is all about futuristic high tech luxury and class. Five star hotels adorn every corner in the marina area – leading to a pyrotechnic skyline the highlight of which is the insane Marina Sands resort, 3 huge towers connected by what looks like a bizarre shipwreck across the top – which we later found contains a park and swimming pool!
It isn’t only high tech and business orientated though, underneath the clean and polished exterior there is a distinct Chinese culturalism bursting out, with street after street of stalls selling amazing foods like turtle soup and pig’s intestine broth, just as a couple of examples. The overall effect is a beautiful city, not in the way of European cities like Bruges or Vienna, but in a truly unique and modern-futuristic way and one which is made all the more amazing given its situation among many less developed counterparts.
23rd December
We head to the Up-Market Marina area without any plan or direction. We find the MRT system so easy to follow, everything is sign posted – your station lights up on the tube map when you reach it, and then led lights indicate which side the doors will open on when you reach there, then on the way out you will be advised exactly which street your exit will take you too with options ABCD indicated on a map. It’s a million miles from India with its chaos and disorder.
We wander past an amazing white cathedral and round to city hall and soon realise the heat here is intense, not what we are used to, but a murky cloudy stifling heat that has you panting and sweating after a few steps. We still aren’t 100% after our illness also, so it takes it out of us. Therefore we just wander with a plan to take it easy today. We stumble across the Esplanade Theatre, a vast spiky mirrored building that reflects the light like a futuristic sonic the hedgehog. We get lost in the vast building with its modern art exhibitions and shopping arcades round every corner. Eventually we reach the roof top and take in the amazing skyline.
We carry on wandering through the afternoon, making a reservation for Christmas dinner and taking pictures whilst dodging tourists at the water spitting lion aptly named the Merlion. We slowly make our way across to the previously mentioned 3 tower shipwreck that we later find is the marina sands. It is quite a mission and we find it costs 20$ each to enter so give it a miss, but we see amazing sights on the way. We pass through a shopping centre on the scale of the Trafford centre, which absolutely oozes spaciousness; unlike any other shopping mall I have seen it has no walls or floors separating the space, just a continuous body of vast emptiness – within which the architect has allowed the odd shopping arcade or elevator. It is elegant to say the least, reminding me of art an art gallery more than a mall. Children ice skate at the bottom of the first building while a river runs through the second – we start to realise this kind of surprising stuff comes as standard in Singapore.
We head back across the bay along the technical marvel that is the double helix bridge, a mass of twisted steel and led lights that is modelled on nature’s greatest achievement a strand of DNA. We eventually get back to the Esplanade where in the amazing outdoor arena we catch a free show by a very unusual band. The chicken shack revival is an all Singaporean blues ensemble with ukulele bass and a mean harmonica, they rock the place and it’s great fun to watch them sing a few Christmas classics.
We head back to our hostel in the Geylang region, which is a colourful area with many amazing food stalls and oriental super-markets. We also see many flush locals getting drunk (pretty extravagant when it costs 10$/£5 for a beer) – there are many strange clubs with big closed off doors the purpose of which we can’t quite decide, maybe it’s nothing but they all seem quite seedy – especially given that scantily clad women seem to hang outside them! We later decide this must be the red light district as lots of provocatively dressed women adorn the street corners. Unfortunately due to our dodgey stomachs we can’t sample the food and have to make do with a burger king! What sacrilege, I can’t wait for my digestion to get back to normal.
Dec 24th
Christmas Eve and we get up and head out downtown once again. I brave some spicy noodle soup for breakfast although Kath’s stomach is still churning – at least Singapore is the best place in the world to have the squits, there are perfectly clean toilets everywhere. We don’t do a great deal this day; check out a lot of the same areas as before really. First thing we head to the train station (quite a mission) to book our night train tickets to Kuala Lumpur which we box off at 40$ each. Then a failed expedition to the beach leads us to Chinatown where I buy a beer from the shop and smuggle it into a coffee shop to save money, No way I’m paying 10$ for a pint! Chinatown is impressive to look at from the outside with amazing pagodas and colourful streets, however look past this facade and you will realise it is over-commercialised and unauthentic – with stall after stall selling tacky fans and I heart Singapore t-shirts: also not a single food hawker in sight, just proper sit down resteraunts at tourist prices.
We check out boat quay by the riverside on the way back and are reminded of Amsterdam or Paris with little cafes and coffee tables covered by verandas, however before we can take much in we are caught in an intense down-pour and people start running for cover. We get our first taste here of Singapore’s erratic and heavy storms, as we instantly become surrounded by a torrent of water. The rain pelts off the plastic coverings and creates a cacophony of sound, it feels like were inside a washing machine on spin-cycle. Reluctantly we bite the bullet and get a beer at the red dot cafe for 8$ (360ml!) I’m not happy, but it is quite romantic as we drink our beers and watch the rain hammer down upon the river – the majestic Fullerton standing across the water.
We head back to the marina once the rain stops and check out the famous Raffles hotel. Smaller than most it makes up for size with grandeur and old fashioned classiness, looking as if it was lifted straight from 1920’s high society. The interior matches the facade with opulent boutiques and a resteraunt which is clearly beyond our price bracket; we also check out the long bar which again looks like some 1920s Victorian bar, however I’m not wearing my smoking jacket so we give it a miss.
Across the way we find a beautiful white church slap bang in the middle of a shopping mall – only in Singapore right – then we try to reach the bar of the Swiss Hotel in order to soak up the view. Unfortunately short sleeves and short legs are apparently a no go and we are refused entry. Oh well, we catch some more live music (Christmas jazz) down at the theatre again and head home early to have a few beers. We catch up on the apprentice via the wi-fi in the hotel and it makes a welcome reminder of home at Christmas time.
Friday, 24 December 2010
Merry Christmas
For all our friends and family out there just want to wish you a merry christmas. Here in singapore it's a sweaty humid day - and i might have to admit i even miss the cold weather a little bit today. Hope you all got what you wanted!
We managed to book christmas dinner right by the famous merelion down amongst the amazing singapore harbour with views of the futuristic skyline. We aren't getting each other presents but were treating ourselves to some nice things, which in singapore is pretty expensive, we might even buy a pint in a bar which at 7£ is no small gift! It's a good place to be for crimble though, with a few christmas trees and carol singers and everything. Will post more about it later.
HAVE A GREAT DAY EVERYBODY!!!!
From Tim and Kath
We managed to book christmas dinner right by the famous merelion down amongst the amazing singapore harbour with views of the futuristic skyline. We aren't getting each other presents but were treating ourselves to some nice things, which in singapore is pretty expensive, we might even buy a pint in a bar which at 7£ is no small gift! It's a good place to be for crimble though, with a few christmas trees and carol singers and everything. Will post more about it later.
HAVE A GREAT DAY EVERYBODY!!!!
From Tim and Kath
Thursday, 23 December 2010
Palolem overview - and a bad squit outburst
Palolem – highs and lows.
As we are in the same place for a whole week I didn’t think it needed a daily entry, so will attempt to write up the key things from the week.
We stayed for the full week in a beach hut in what is called camp San Francisco. We pay 300rs per night (approx £4.50) and the hut itself is simple but adequate, with shower, toilet and plug socket. The huts are all made of wood and brightly coloured, supported by stilts to raise them from the floor, inside you get little in the way of decor, mainly a double bed covered by a mosquito net and a simple bathroom area. For 6 months of the year, due to planning restrictions, all the structures on the beach must be taken down - so everything is in this makeshift style and the accommodation doesn’t vary vastly from place to place. The downside to this is that pour camp was a building site and laying in was impossible; I would recommend this camp though, as the guys working the place are really friendly and helpful and seem to be around any time of day, they also cook up some mean barbeque down on the beach.
Beer is cheap and readily available here unlike the rest of India so we did a lot of chilling out eating and having a few beers between seeing sights and relaxing on the beach, it is the perfect beach holiday destination, imagine the best place in Europe you have ever been, make everything dirt cheap and then mix in the most beautiful scenery in the world – that’s the kind of idea.
Although I wrote that Goa was idyllic – Palolem in particular – it does soon become apparent that it is a little over commercialised. This has it’s positives, like when I was able to watch united arsenal on the beach with a bunch of wound up cockneys! However it also has negatives; mainly having people coming up to you trying to sell you stuff when you’re obviously reading your book or trying to relax. It is a bit of a double edged sword. I want to watch the footy, chat to other Europeans and have a good drink but I don’t want to feel like I’m just in Benidorm without the sky-rise hotels. Thankfully it never gets anywhere near that kind of tackiness, but you can’t help feeling it has been a bit spoiled.
If you do want some serious tranquillity and peace though a quick walk over the rocks to the left of the Palolem though towards Patnam (another local beach) should do the trick. Otherwise hire a scooter and head to Agonda or Turtle beach – the kind of desolate sandy shores that pople dream of being shipwrecked upon. On the whole though I am glad we stayed where we did – while not quite a deserted paradise – it was never far from it and it is nice to have all the things you want and need right on your doorstep (especially when your stumbling home at 3am).
Hiring scooters was a good thing to do costing £3 and we went on several missions. I enjoyed going out on my own, getting up some speed and overtaking the locals, although it gets a bit scary when you get into the towns with all kinds of traffic moving to its own chaotic law, never mind the free spirited cows that come charging out of unseen backstreets straight for you! Unfortunately though, Kath suffered a fall leading to a very sore wrist after careering off the side of the road into a ditch. I tried to explain that you need a lot of practice on these things as my own experience proves, but given her car driving prowess she explained she would be fine to drive it and it was me who was a risk! I would rub it in a little more, but I feel very sorry for her as she has had her hand bandaged all week and I really hope it gets better soon. We don’t think it’s more than a very minor sprain so should be ok. I had visions of such a potential occurrence when we were handed over a brand new sparkling moped – luckily it wasn’t scratched and we escaped the wrath of the owner. The next time I got it out i was delighted to be offered a battered old scooter with no wing mirrors (if I crashed this one nobody would ever know!)
On Saturday there is a “silent noise” rave up on the hill which was a real highlight, we went along with a cool couple we met called Kate and Matt (big shout out!) and I bumped into plenty of people there who I’d been chatting to the night before (when Kath went home early and I came back late – falling straight on top of the baffling mosquito net). The set up consisted of one big outdoor area, a 10ft high dj booth, 3 djs and some big screens. The headphones have 3 channels and cleverly each one has a different colour light, which is displayed on your headphone set. Henceforth you can see whose raving to which dj and join in with that group. It wasn’t as good as a real dj set as the music was a bit choppy – the red channel one minute going from d&b to soul and funk for example. However a wicked time it definitely was: the particular highlight being taking the headphones off during RATM to hear everyone screaming MOTHERFUKKKKERRR!!!! In unison.
We also caught an open air movie at the same place on Wednesday night (Neptune point) – the film was get to the greek (or something like that) which was actually piss funny and it was a great atmosphere to watch it in the open air.
The food in Goa was awesome with a range of the usual curries and such complimented by a colourful selection of barbequed seafood and meats. These tend to come with a vast range of chips/rice/salad etc to your like and are easily enough to share. The best thing is that the tables and chairs are all set down on the beach where romantic fires light up the sand and make for a brilliant evening atmosphere. We tried squid, tuna, king fish and the obligatory tandoori chicken, but the highlight has to be the lobster and jumbo prawns we had on Thursday. Kath has often said she wanted lobster but it has always been outside our price range (and definitely beyond my budget for any kind of celebratory dinner) but at about £15 we thought it was worthwhile to tick of the list of things we have done. The thing came to the plate looking somewhat monstrous, all legs and tentacles like something out of Alien vs. Predator, however as the cliché goes looks can be deceiving – and that was certainly the case. We hacked away at the beast to the best of our ability occasionally squirting innocent bystanders with lobster juice – and I must admit it was a lot of effort given the contents. I can understand why it is considered a delicacy, not a lot of meat and a lot of effort, but the flavour is much subtler than other shellfish and well worth sampling; less fishy and earthy than the prawns but still overpriced at this cheap rate.
And Then.....
Disaster strikes, we wake feeling weak and low on energy the Sunday after the rave – just a hangover we think so I recklessly decide it a good idea to hire a kayak and sail out with Kath in tow as a good morning hang over cure. Bad idea, half way out in the toasting (hottest day yet) sun, I nearly keel over. Each stroke is harder and harder and my lungs burn with the effort. I have to get back to shore, so I try and try to get us back – eventually making it, but absolutely knackered!! I try to eat and drink some healthy stuff and wear it off but we end up skulking down in a comfy cafe all afternoon – trying to get some energy together. I feel ok, but Kath complains of a dodgey stomach. Should probably not have ordered another curry then – but too late.
We can’t sleep that night – shaking and sweating violently and visiting the toilet every 5 minutes!! Crazy – 3 weeks and no problems and on the final days we get struck down with hardcore food poisoning. I have never felt so ill, not sleeping a wink, every single exposed part of my body freezing and covered in goose bumps, while the rest of my body that is covered sweats and overheats and my head feels like an over stoked furnace that’s about to blow. It is hellish, but luckily the fever goes in the morning as we lay in bed listening to incessant hammering, psyching ourselves up for the days’ task – a 14 hour train journey back to Mumbai.
Just packing our bags leaves us drained and we must stop for breaks at regular intervals otherwise we might collapse, needless to say carrying the bags to the road to get a taxi is hard work! To top it off as well I only have about 150 ruppees left after we pay the cab to get us all the way back to Mumbai as half the frickin cash points in India seem to have vendetta against foreign tourists. I stock up on water, biscuits and crisps: we are trying to eat as much as possible but 12 hours on the train toilet doesn’t sound great. Luckily we have a deluxe private room on the train and close proximity to a toilet, although I was going through a bizarre dry stage and pretty much slept the whole train journey. Kath wasn’t quite so lucky, but all in all the train was a good place to be, quiet and dark and tucked in our beds we could zone out and try and recover.
The next day in Mumbai was pretty shit, we arrived before check in time so had to hang out in Mumbai at 6am til’ MacDonald’s opened, where we tried to eat some hash browns. We then checked in the room and chilled all day, sticking to a strict diet of fruit and MacDonald’s. Not my doctor’s advised choice, but when everything else is curried it’s about the best you can get! Luckily we get some U.S channel on the box and catch Lord of the Rings, Friends and I am Legend (which was pretty shit) but it whiled away the day.
Next morning still not 100% - me feeling better but Kath still struggling: were up early and for the flight to Singapore. All goes smoothly and I brave a beer and couple of ready meals, Kath not realing eating properly at all for few days. We’re getting better but slowly. Maybe the food in Goa isn't quite what i advertised!
Now in Singapore 4 days into the illness, making a full recovery for Christmas I hope. Will soon bring up update for Singapore!
As we are in the same place for a whole week I didn’t think it needed a daily entry, so will attempt to write up the key things from the week.
We stayed for the full week in a beach hut in what is called camp San Francisco. We pay 300rs per night (approx £4.50) and the hut itself is simple but adequate, with shower, toilet and plug socket. The huts are all made of wood and brightly coloured, supported by stilts to raise them from the floor, inside you get little in the way of decor, mainly a double bed covered by a mosquito net and a simple bathroom area. For 6 months of the year, due to planning restrictions, all the structures on the beach must be taken down - so everything is in this makeshift style and the accommodation doesn’t vary vastly from place to place. The downside to this is that pour camp was a building site and laying in was impossible; I would recommend this camp though, as the guys working the place are really friendly and helpful and seem to be around any time of day, they also cook up some mean barbeque down on the beach.
Beer is cheap and readily available here unlike the rest of India so we did a lot of chilling out eating and having a few beers between seeing sights and relaxing on the beach, it is the perfect beach holiday destination, imagine the best place in Europe you have ever been, make everything dirt cheap and then mix in the most beautiful scenery in the world – that’s the kind of idea.
Although I wrote that Goa was idyllic – Palolem in particular – it does soon become apparent that it is a little over commercialised. This has it’s positives, like when I was able to watch united arsenal on the beach with a bunch of wound up cockneys! However it also has negatives; mainly having people coming up to you trying to sell you stuff when you’re obviously reading your book or trying to relax. It is a bit of a double edged sword. I want to watch the footy, chat to other Europeans and have a good drink but I don’t want to feel like I’m just in Benidorm without the sky-rise hotels. Thankfully it never gets anywhere near that kind of tackiness, but you can’t help feeling it has been a bit spoiled.
If you do want some serious tranquillity and peace though a quick walk over the rocks to the left of the Palolem though towards Patnam (another local beach) should do the trick. Otherwise hire a scooter and head to Agonda or Turtle beach – the kind of desolate sandy shores that pople dream of being shipwrecked upon. On the whole though I am glad we stayed where we did – while not quite a deserted paradise – it was never far from it and it is nice to have all the things you want and need right on your doorstep (especially when your stumbling home at 3am).
Hiring scooters was a good thing to do costing £3 and we went on several missions. I enjoyed going out on my own, getting up some speed and overtaking the locals, although it gets a bit scary when you get into the towns with all kinds of traffic moving to its own chaotic law, never mind the free spirited cows that come charging out of unseen backstreets straight for you! Unfortunately though, Kath suffered a fall leading to a very sore wrist after careering off the side of the road into a ditch. I tried to explain that you need a lot of practice on these things as my own experience proves, but given her car driving prowess she explained she would be fine to drive it and it was me who was a risk! I would rub it in a little more, but I feel very sorry for her as she has had her hand bandaged all week and I really hope it gets better soon. We don’t think it’s more than a very minor sprain so should be ok. I had visions of such a potential occurrence when we were handed over a brand new sparkling moped – luckily it wasn’t scratched and we escaped the wrath of the owner. The next time I got it out i was delighted to be offered a battered old scooter with no wing mirrors (if I crashed this one nobody would ever know!)
On Saturday there is a “silent noise” rave up on the hill which was a real highlight, we went along with a cool couple we met called Kate and Matt (big shout out!) and I bumped into plenty of people there who I’d been chatting to the night before (when Kath went home early and I came back late – falling straight on top of the baffling mosquito net). The set up consisted of one big outdoor area, a 10ft high dj booth, 3 djs and some big screens. The headphones have 3 channels and cleverly each one has a different colour light, which is displayed on your headphone set. Henceforth you can see whose raving to which dj and join in with that group. It wasn’t as good as a real dj set as the music was a bit choppy – the red channel one minute going from d&b to soul and funk for example. However a wicked time it definitely was: the particular highlight being taking the headphones off during RATM to hear everyone screaming MOTHERFUKKKKERRR!!!! In unison.
We also caught an open air movie at the same place on Wednesday night (Neptune point) – the film was get to the greek (or something like that) which was actually piss funny and it was a great atmosphere to watch it in the open air.
The food in Goa was awesome with a range of the usual curries and such complimented by a colourful selection of barbequed seafood and meats. These tend to come with a vast range of chips/rice/salad etc to your like and are easily enough to share. The best thing is that the tables and chairs are all set down on the beach where romantic fires light up the sand and make for a brilliant evening atmosphere. We tried squid, tuna, king fish and the obligatory tandoori chicken, but the highlight has to be the lobster and jumbo prawns we had on Thursday. Kath has often said she wanted lobster but it has always been outside our price range (and definitely beyond my budget for any kind of celebratory dinner) but at about £15 we thought it was worthwhile to tick of the list of things we have done. The thing came to the plate looking somewhat monstrous, all legs and tentacles like something out of Alien vs. Predator, however as the cliché goes looks can be deceiving – and that was certainly the case. We hacked away at the beast to the best of our ability occasionally squirting innocent bystanders with lobster juice – and I must admit it was a lot of effort given the contents. I can understand why it is considered a delicacy, not a lot of meat and a lot of effort, but the flavour is much subtler than other shellfish and well worth sampling; less fishy and earthy than the prawns but still overpriced at this cheap rate.
And Then.....
Disaster strikes, we wake feeling weak and low on energy the Sunday after the rave – just a hangover we think so I recklessly decide it a good idea to hire a kayak and sail out with Kath in tow as a good morning hang over cure. Bad idea, half way out in the toasting (hottest day yet) sun, I nearly keel over. Each stroke is harder and harder and my lungs burn with the effort. I have to get back to shore, so I try and try to get us back – eventually making it, but absolutely knackered!! I try to eat and drink some healthy stuff and wear it off but we end up skulking down in a comfy cafe all afternoon – trying to get some energy together. I feel ok, but Kath complains of a dodgey stomach. Should probably not have ordered another curry then – but too late.
We can’t sleep that night – shaking and sweating violently and visiting the toilet every 5 minutes!! Crazy – 3 weeks and no problems and on the final days we get struck down with hardcore food poisoning. I have never felt so ill, not sleeping a wink, every single exposed part of my body freezing and covered in goose bumps, while the rest of my body that is covered sweats and overheats and my head feels like an over stoked furnace that’s about to blow. It is hellish, but luckily the fever goes in the morning as we lay in bed listening to incessant hammering, psyching ourselves up for the days’ task – a 14 hour train journey back to Mumbai.
Just packing our bags leaves us drained and we must stop for breaks at regular intervals otherwise we might collapse, needless to say carrying the bags to the road to get a taxi is hard work! To top it off as well I only have about 150 ruppees left after we pay the cab to get us all the way back to Mumbai as half the frickin cash points in India seem to have vendetta against foreign tourists. I stock up on water, biscuits and crisps: we are trying to eat as much as possible but 12 hours on the train toilet doesn’t sound great. Luckily we have a deluxe private room on the train and close proximity to a toilet, although I was going through a bizarre dry stage and pretty much slept the whole train journey. Kath wasn’t quite so lucky, but all in all the train was a good place to be, quiet and dark and tucked in our beds we could zone out and try and recover.
The next day in Mumbai was pretty shit, we arrived before check in time so had to hang out in Mumbai at 6am til’ MacDonald’s opened, where we tried to eat some hash browns. We then checked in the room and chilled all day, sticking to a strict diet of fruit and MacDonald’s. Not my doctor’s advised choice, but when everything else is curried it’s about the best you can get! Luckily we get some U.S channel on the box and catch Lord of the Rings, Friends and I am Legend (which was pretty shit) but it whiled away the day.
Next morning still not 100% - me feeling better but Kath still struggling: were up early and for the flight to Singapore. All goes smoothly and I brave a beer and couple of ready meals, Kath not realing eating properly at all for few days. We’re getting better but slowly. Maybe the food in Goa isn't quite what i advertised!
Now in Singapore 4 days into the illness, making a full recovery for Christmas I hope. Will soon bring up update for Singapore!
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Palolem
Goa
A sea of molten silver reaching to infinity blends subtly on the horizon into a hazy gun metal gray: all framed perfectly by a shore of cotton sand fabricated in off-white cream. White candyfloss islands float lazily across this tranquil skyline, mirrored below by a rickety fishing boat manned by day-dreamers whiling away the sun. To the right a rocky cove juts menacingly from the shore providing darkness and contrast in an otherwise bright and pastel environ. Here perched, we observe a quaint wooden restaurant offering panoramic views, accessible only by a shaky ramp rising from the sand (maybe it’s made from pieces of long since drifted-wood). To the left creamy sands stretch into an undulating curve which is broken by an encroaching tide to create an isolated beach on the furthest side: behind which sit black rocky cliff faces beneath vibrant green trees. In the corner a ramshackle bridge of scrap wood upon bamboo like poles stretches out of sight into unknown territory. Dominating the scene and focusing ones eye – an emerald isle rests just metres from the isolated beach but still, only just, tantalizingly out of reach. It irradiates lush greenness like a shimmering gemstone, crowning the glorious view.
Among this idyll pale Europeans and milk-bottle Brits make their salutations to the sun, cooking their skin in the intense winter heat. More sensible locals cover their brown-leather skin with colourful thin fabrics, while beckoning the now disgruntled rich visitors to purchase whatever it may be they have to offer. Tall coconut palms inexplicably grow out of the undergrowth towards the sea, as if trying their best to hide the myriad bars and restaurants that lay beneath. Unfortunately, they fail and the colourful huts (leaking house music and reggae) that line the beach do a little to spoil the otherwise majestic views. Still this is the best beach I have ever seen, offering a perfect balance of tranquillity and convenience, or natural beauty and manufactured pleasures. This could be paradise. Welcome to Palolem.
A sea of molten silver reaching to infinity blends subtly on the horizon into a hazy gun metal gray: all framed perfectly by a shore of cotton sand fabricated in off-white cream. White candyfloss islands float lazily across this tranquil skyline, mirrored below by a rickety fishing boat manned by day-dreamers whiling away the sun. To the right a rocky cove juts menacingly from the shore providing darkness and contrast in an otherwise bright and pastel environ. Here perched, we observe a quaint wooden restaurant offering panoramic views, accessible only by a shaky ramp rising from the sand (maybe it’s made from pieces of long since drifted-wood). To the left creamy sands stretch into an undulating curve which is broken by an encroaching tide to create an isolated beach on the furthest side: behind which sit black rocky cliff faces beneath vibrant green trees. In the corner a ramshackle bridge of scrap wood upon bamboo like poles stretches out of sight into unknown territory. Dominating the scene and focusing ones eye – an emerald isle rests just metres from the isolated beach but still, only just, tantalizingly out of reach. It irradiates lush greenness like a shimmering gemstone, crowning the glorious view.
Among this idyll pale Europeans and milk-bottle Brits make their salutations to the sun, cooking their skin in the intense winter heat. More sensible locals cover their brown-leather skin with colourful thin fabrics, while beckoning the now disgruntled rich visitors to purchase whatever it may be they have to offer. Tall coconut palms inexplicably grow out of the undergrowth towards the sea, as if trying their best to hide the myriad bars and restaurants that lay beneath. Unfortunately, they fail and the colourful huts (leaking house music and reggae) that line the beach do a little to spoil the otherwise majestic views. Still this is the best beach I have ever seen, offering a perfect balance of tranquillity and convenience, or natural beauty and manufactured pleasures. This could be paradise. Welcome to Palolem.
To goa!
Day 12
Today we head to Goa but the train isn’t ‘til late – so we stash our bags at the hotel and head out for the day. We get some fruit for breakfast as I feel like I’m not getting enough and fuel up on cheap Mc-coffee. We walk around all day, down to the coastline again and then to the beach where we get sweet corn and play some tunes – it’s pretty cool. A posh Indian child chats to us, asking why were on the beach, I tell him just to chill in the sun and he is bemused, saying that it’s such a cold day!
We stop in a well decorated restaurant and get some top quality biriyani and gin and lemonades; meanwhile some Indian couple are absolutely smashed, inhibited they start knoodling and a bit of a ruck breaks out – leading to them being swiftly evacuated from the premises. What a turn up for the books, the Indians act up while the Brits are sitting civilised in the corner!
I decide to waste the evening trying to get to the highest building on the skyline, this proves more difficult than anticipated and takes ages, when we finally get there it’s a militarily controlled no go zone. We get mobbed by ghetto children at the bottom of the building and have to make a move. Although we can’t go up the building for a view it’s worthwhile as we get a stark view of how the have and the have-nots co-exist. The skyscraper is an amazing feat of engineering, two perfectly identical towers of crisp blue and white glass, inhabited by the Mumbai elite, but it emerges from crumbling shacks and temporary dwellings inhabited by the poorest of the poor.
We head back to our hotel region stopping about 5 taxis who try to charge us double before we get the right price. We stop to use the internet and then head for dinner – half way down the street I realise I’ve left my wallet where I was changing my shirt – SHIT!! I run down the street at full sprint thinking I have no chance of getting it back. I arrive in the shop sweating and panicking, however the guy in the shop reaches under the counter and produces my wallet, all the contents intact. I offer him a note as a thank you but he refuses and my faith in humanity is restored. I only had a few hundred in it and all my bank cards are stashed away but the train ticket for tonight’s travel was tucked in the back – mental note: never put your wallet anywhere but your pocket ever again.
Feeling lucky and flush with our re-found cash we go to an expensive looking bar called Macado’s and enjoy some Italian food, it’s still cheap by U.K standards and olive oil and pasta make a welcome change from curry and roti. Then it’s back to the hotel and onto the 11pm train.
The train
Victorian Terminus is the most grandiose and impressive transport hub I have ever seen. It is massive and ornate in a classic British style – putting Westminster to shame. We frantically look for the platform; and as always it’s the furthest one away. Finding the carriage is difficult, the trains have about 40 cars and the platforms are seriously long. When we get on I thinks we might have the wrong carriage, it has several compartments with bunk beds lined up In rows – wow – and people told us the trains were crap. We get clean linen and make the beds up; it’s so cosy and comfortable and we sit up chatting for a little while.
When all the lights are off all you can hear is the rhythmic ticking and clunking as the tracks grind against heavy wheels – the carriage sways gently from side to side and in your narrow bunk you feel like a baby rocking gently in a claustrophobic crib. I sleep poorly, in intermittent fits, waking to focus on the monotonous sound which is somehow strangely relaxing. In the morning Kath continues to doze while I begin writing, enjoying many teas and coffees and an omelette – as sellers travel up and down the train with a range of quality stuff at dirt cheap prices. As I drink a tea for 7p and eat a samosa for 10, sat in my deluxe sleeper cabin; I realise just how shit virgin trains are in comparison. For the final stint of the journey, enjoying the freedom from Britain’s nanny state, I defy health and safety warnings to lean out of the door and watch the passing scenery. The views are stunning, palm trees and tall grasses break out into inviting green lagoons and clear rivers, an old steam boat paddles from one shore of a wide lake perhaps taking happy tourists to a prospective paradise on the other bank. The measure of difference in what we see here from what has gone before is indescribable: It’s hard to believe Goa is India at all, and I start to get excited about arriving on the beach.
Today we head to Goa but the train isn’t ‘til late – so we stash our bags at the hotel and head out for the day. We get some fruit for breakfast as I feel like I’m not getting enough and fuel up on cheap Mc-coffee. We walk around all day, down to the coastline again and then to the beach where we get sweet corn and play some tunes – it’s pretty cool. A posh Indian child chats to us, asking why were on the beach, I tell him just to chill in the sun and he is bemused, saying that it’s such a cold day!
We stop in a well decorated restaurant and get some top quality biriyani and gin and lemonades; meanwhile some Indian couple are absolutely smashed, inhibited they start knoodling and a bit of a ruck breaks out – leading to them being swiftly evacuated from the premises. What a turn up for the books, the Indians act up while the Brits are sitting civilised in the corner!
I decide to waste the evening trying to get to the highest building on the skyline, this proves more difficult than anticipated and takes ages, when we finally get there it’s a militarily controlled no go zone. We get mobbed by ghetto children at the bottom of the building and have to make a move. Although we can’t go up the building for a view it’s worthwhile as we get a stark view of how the have and the have-nots co-exist. The skyscraper is an amazing feat of engineering, two perfectly identical towers of crisp blue and white glass, inhabited by the Mumbai elite, but it emerges from crumbling shacks and temporary dwellings inhabited by the poorest of the poor.
We head back to our hotel region stopping about 5 taxis who try to charge us double before we get the right price. We stop to use the internet and then head for dinner – half way down the street I realise I’ve left my wallet where I was changing my shirt – SHIT!! I run down the street at full sprint thinking I have no chance of getting it back. I arrive in the shop sweating and panicking, however the guy in the shop reaches under the counter and produces my wallet, all the contents intact. I offer him a note as a thank you but he refuses and my faith in humanity is restored. I only had a few hundred in it and all my bank cards are stashed away but the train ticket for tonight’s travel was tucked in the back – mental note: never put your wallet anywhere but your pocket ever again.
Feeling lucky and flush with our re-found cash we go to an expensive looking bar called Macado’s and enjoy some Italian food, it’s still cheap by U.K standards and olive oil and pasta make a welcome change from curry and roti. Then it’s back to the hotel and onto the 11pm train.
The train
Victorian Terminus is the most grandiose and impressive transport hub I have ever seen. It is massive and ornate in a classic British style – putting Westminster to shame. We frantically look for the platform; and as always it’s the furthest one away. Finding the carriage is difficult, the trains have about 40 cars and the platforms are seriously long. When we get on I thinks we might have the wrong carriage, it has several compartments with bunk beds lined up In rows – wow – and people told us the trains were crap. We get clean linen and make the beds up; it’s so cosy and comfortable and we sit up chatting for a little while.
When all the lights are off all you can hear is the rhythmic ticking and clunking as the tracks grind against heavy wheels – the carriage sways gently from side to side and in your narrow bunk you feel like a baby rocking gently in a claustrophobic crib. I sleep poorly, in intermittent fits, waking to focus on the monotonous sound which is somehow strangely relaxing. In the morning Kath continues to doze while I begin writing, enjoying many teas and coffees and an omelette – as sellers travel up and down the train with a range of quality stuff at dirt cheap prices. As I drink a tea for 7p and eat a samosa for 10, sat in my deluxe sleeper cabin; I realise just how shit virgin trains are in comparison. For the final stint of the journey, enjoying the freedom from Britain’s nanny state, I defy health and safety warnings to lean out of the door and watch the passing scenery. The views are stunning, palm trees and tall grasses break out into inviting green lagoons and clear rivers, an old steam boat paddles from one shore of a wide lake perhaps taking happy tourists to a prospective paradise on the other bank. The measure of difference in what we see here from what has gone before is indescribable: It’s hard to believe Goa is India at all, and I start to get excited about arriving on the beach.
Mumbai - The Biggest City In The World?
(The official population is around 20 million, however with the slums it has been specualted mumbai is the largest city in the world, It certainly is the fastest growing one anyway)
Day 10
We wake early at 3 am to take a taxi to the airport; I am grumpy and irritable as have only had one hour sleep. The flight and check in goes smoothly particularly given that unlike the English the Indians are reluctant to queue and we are the first in. A strange Israeli gent takes the seat next to me – showing his motorcycle injury from Goa and moaning how expensive India is – he is ok but he smells bad of B.O and when he goes on about trance parties I’m reminded why I am avoiding them – middle aged wannabe hippies having a mid life crisis aren’t my usual friend group.
We arrive in Mumbai without problems, and upon arrival we check out the taxi situation, 370 prepay and too far for rickshaw, although some prick tries to tell us its 800 but we’re too tired to be polite and tell him to piss off. I haven’t booked a hotel as it’s difficult to find anywhere decent in the massive metropolis that isn’t extortionate so I opt to head to the district where I know some hotels probably are and take my chances. We get dropped at the hotel oasis fort region to discover it is fully booked – bollocks.
Subsequently we proceed to wander the street carrying our oversized baggage in search for somewhere to stay but the places we check are either madly expensive or fully booked. I am told 1320 for one room that isn’t clean and am reluctant to agree – so we keep on looking. Three more places we check are fully booked or madly expensive (2000+ ) so I start to get stressed, Kath goes and uses the internet for a while and stows the bags away while I set off on foot to find somewhere.
It is hot and humid in Mumbai and I soon work up a massive sweat, walking purposefully from street to street in search of accommodation. Everywhere is booked up, and some places that look rat infested and dirty turn me away quoting ridiculously inflated rates of 1000 per night. After 45 minutes the only place I can find is a Tokyo style box room with no air con or fan and a shared bathroom at 1250! In desperation I head back to the place at 1320 only to find now this is full also! Double shit!
I run along stinking chaotic streets in search of a hotel getting more and more agitated until I finally give up and start heading back to Kath in order to book somewhere online resigned to the fact I will have to pay the high rates they are demanding. I pass a hotel I already tried on the way past that was full and decide to try my luck but again he says it is still full. Desperate and sweating I plead with the manager “ is there any chance of a room tomorrow?” when suddenly he has a change of tune and says somewhere has come up at 750. After a viewing I rush back and snap it up as it is spacious and clean and has a fan. Wow! How lucky have I been – 750 and clean and spacious when everyone wanted 1500 for a dirty hovel – I tell Kath it was a miracle and I’m pretty pleased with myself – top blagging serves me well again.
Mumbai is sssooo different to where we have been so far; it is apparent as soon as you leave the airport. There is similar smog and dust and you can see millions of shanty homes from the plane, but still it is clearly more developed and advanced than the North. The only indication of the slum’s among you is a heavy smell in the air of manure and sewerage and the occasional road side tent or makeshift lodge. The buildings vary from the usual low-rise and haphazard to New York style futuristic sky scrapers and Georgian behemoths reminiscent of Westminster. The old and the new are in symbiosis; a Subway sandwich bar for example sits opposite from a rickety looking “pure veg” curry hut where old men attend massive steel pots. It seems one couldn’t exist without the other and no area is uber-modern and none really old; a fact reinforced as you explore the chaotic markets which lay behind the elaborate European style boulevards of the fort area’s banking district.
We enjoy seeing brands we recognise like Sony and Nokia and HSBC but it also feels like a more watered down version of India and we miss a little of the madness that Delhi, Agra and Jaipur gave us. Here people don’t honk their horns feverously when driving and they stick to the correct lane -even going so far as to occasionally obey red lights and indicating when they turn. You can also ask for directions and change when buying things without being stared at with a blank confused expression. It is convenient here though; we enjoy beers and coffee and can find an ATM that doesn’t threaten to steal your money and eat your card, which is always pleasant and reassuring – but somehow it doesn’t seem right – we have grown fond of being blagged and misdirected and everything being tough, it doesn’t feel like we’re really travelling anymore.
We grab a nap then spend the day chilling around the local streets, eating drinking and bargaining. I get a watch for 100 some shades for 75 and a knife for 40, all at least a third off the original asking prices, which gives me a feeling of satisfaction. I also get a cut throat shave that is so close it is unreal for the meagre sum of 20 rupees – the man is skilled and gentle, with an immense attention to detail and he spends over 20 minutes removing my rough facial foliage. Maybe I am the first ginger he’s ever had in his salon (no innuendo please) I think to myself – maybe even the first ever westerner; either way, it’s an excellent shave and a pleasant experience, my beard hasn’t been this short since I was 10 years old, and not a scratch on me.
There are loads of bars around the Fort area, some more expensive ones geared up for westerners with clean painted walls and glass tables, but others are more authentic and frequented by locals with cheap spirits and slightly grimy interiors. The local men drink a lot in Mumbai it seems, ordering a spirit, usually whisky, by the half bottle and sharing it. The spirits come in 30, 60, 180 or 350 ml servings and start at 20rs for a 30ml measure. Beer however is expensive at 100rs a bottle. We eat in a place full of locals called Lalit and for dinner we have some more meat which is welcome. Kath as often is the case is the only girl in the man orientated bar and she gets many stares, but for 500rs we enjoy 3 mains, loads of bread and 2 big spirits and mixers. A pretty wicked feast to top off a lucky and enjoyable day; we are really settling in now and love India, the stress of our first days in Delhi seem a million miles away!
Day 11
Mumbai is very hot and humid and I think I’m going to have to crack out the shorts as trousers are too much. We wake in the night parched and hot as a power-cut renders our ceiling fan redundant, Kath’s throat is dry and she complains she’s going to die – maybe a little over exaggeration but were both feeling the heat, however luckily a hotel attended is kind enough to trek through the dark streets to find us ice cold water. Eventually the fans come back on and we manage some decent sleep and in the morning I blast out some prodigy and have a shower, which I’m sure the locals appreciate.
There isn’t so much to do in terms of monuments and sights here, but just walking the streets is cool. The blend of old and new is very unique, no city I have ever been to resembles it – you can see that Mumbai is on the cusp of being a fully fledged developed city, an appropriate symbol for India perhaps – a perfect visual metaphor for India’s polarised society as shinning sky scrapers emerge from sprawling slums.
First thing we do is head for the local MacDonald’s, I’m not a big fan but it’s the best place to take a nice clean shit in the westernised toilet, and it’s about the only place you can grab a filter coffee that doesn’t break the bank, also they have to give you change so I pay with a 1000 note every time. Maccys has become an oasis in the desert of chaos where western rules apply, no haggling, the correct change and a clean toilet – understandably tourists flock there in their droves – flamingos in the forest – they stand out miles being twice the size of the locals and wearing their bright shorts and vest tops. I laugh at them, then realise I’m just the same and it is a little sobering. Still a sausage McMuffin goes down pretty well and I get over it.
We walk to the coast through wide tree lined boulevards; the view from the coast is more Miami than Mumbai, although as we get closer you can see the buildings aren’t quite so spectacular, lacking a certain cleanness and polish. We walk for a long while, grabbing samosa and munchies, down to the gateway to India, this is a typical relic of the empire, a colossal arch in a classic Victorian style marking the port area out from the surroundings. It is good to be in a place where you can actually follow a map, the streets actually going in lines and even occasionally having sign posts.
We catch a ferry to Elephenta island, the boat is rickety and small and full of locals. In the middle sits a ponderous old engine that seems to expel more in the way of noise than it gives to the propellers. Passengers tussle for the best positions, switching from side to side grabbing pictures, but until we reach the island there isn’t much to look at; the whole of Mumbai including the islands have been overrun by the industrial sprawl, cranes and bleak looking buildings rest on every outcrop and the water is crawling with big ugly fishing vessels and container ships.
Elephant Island itself though is a stark contrast; completely covered with thick forest. From the dark green trees juts an pier – maybe 250 metres in length – and around it many boats of varying size and colour cluster – allowing eager tourists to arrive and depart. The walk to the top of the hill is typical punctuated by hawkers and market sellers who cut a line through the trees, obviously this spoils the tranquillity of an otherwise untouched island. I grab a freshly toasted sweet corn cob for 10 rupees which is amazingly tasty, I don’t get to enjoy it for long though; a hungry ox comes straight for me horns first, I shit myself and start running with the ox giving chase, eventually throwing my corn to the side and making an embarrassing escape.
The top of the complex reveals a series of truly ancient caverns (approx 500AD) carved out directly from the rock face. Like other ancient monument it is remarkable to think how it was possible to create such a thing in such seclusion and without technology on a remote island just a few square miles in size. Even more impressive are the gods carved out from the rock, skilfully crafted and detailed, they show many deities on a grand scale – unfortunately we learn that many have been wantonly destroyed by the Portuguese. Still it is well worth a visit, and we enjoy a cold beer and thali with a majestic view from the hill top resteraunt.
In the evening we explore the Colaba district which I have read is a cool place to hang out, popular with travellers. We wander for ages looking for the action ending up mile out of town and completely lost. Eventually we realise that the main attractions are centred just a few streets away from the gateway itself, we have ended up walking some series miles this day. We head back and find the infamous Leopold’s bar but it is overcrowded and expensive (4 times the usual price) so we don’t bother. We grab a bite to eat at a westernised cafe and it’s probably the worst meal we have had in India! I’m not impressed with Colaba; we realise that unlike many travellers we like the to be in among the real culture of the country; why travel half way round the world to sit with people from back home listening to the same music. Leopold’s is pretty cool don’t get me wrong, a lot like font bar in Manchester; but why come to India for this. We enjoy being out of our comfort zone, fascinated by the sounds sights and smells of a real India; or at least a watered down version of it. I realise that nearly everywhere we have eaten or drunk so far we have been the only white people present, often drawing a lot of attention from the staff who greet us with big smiles and handshakes the next day.
We head back and sleep well, and I feel a bit better than I did when I was sat in Maccies having a McMuffin – we definitely aren’t your usual tourists.
Day 10
We wake early at 3 am to take a taxi to the airport; I am grumpy and irritable as have only had one hour sleep. The flight and check in goes smoothly particularly given that unlike the English the Indians are reluctant to queue and we are the first in. A strange Israeli gent takes the seat next to me – showing his motorcycle injury from Goa and moaning how expensive India is – he is ok but he smells bad of B.O and when he goes on about trance parties I’m reminded why I am avoiding them – middle aged wannabe hippies having a mid life crisis aren’t my usual friend group.
We arrive in Mumbai without problems, and upon arrival we check out the taxi situation, 370 prepay and too far for rickshaw, although some prick tries to tell us its 800 but we’re too tired to be polite and tell him to piss off. I haven’t booked a hotel as it’s difficult to find anywhere decent in the massive metropolis that isn’t extortionate so I opt to head to the district where I know some hotels probably are and take my chances. We get dropped at the hotel oasis fort region to discover it is fully booked – bollocks.
Subsequently we proceed to wander the street carrying our oversized baggage in search for somewhere to stay but the places we check are either madly expensive or fully booked. I am told 1320 for one room that isn’t clean and am reluctant to agree – so we keep on looking. Three more places we check are fully booked or madly expensive (2000+ ) so I start to get stressed, Kath goes and uses the internet for a while and stows the bags away while I set off on foot to find somewhere.
It is hot and humid in Mumbai and I soon work up a massive sweat, walking purposefully from street to street in search of accommodation. Everywhere is booked up, and some places that look rat infested and dirty turn me away quoting ridiculously inflated rates of 1000 per night. After 45 minutes the only place I can find is a Tokyo style box room with no air con or fan and a shared bathroom at 1250! In desperation I head back to the place at 1320 only to find now this is full also! Double shit!
I run along stinking chaotic streets in search of a hotel getting more and more agitated until I finally give up and start heading back to Kath in order to book somewhere online resigned to the fact I will have to pay the high rates they are demanding. I pass a hotel I already tried on the way past that was full and decide to try my luck but again he says it is still full. Desperate and sweating I plead with the manager “ is there any chance of a room tomorrow?” when suddenly he has a change of tune and says somewhere has come up at 750. After a viewing I rush back and snap it up as it is spacious and clean and has a fan. Wow! How lucky have I been – 750 and clean and spacious when everyone wanted 1500 for a dirty hovel – I tell Kath it was a miracle and I’m pretty pleased with myself – top blagging serves me well again.
Mumbai is sssooo different to where we have been so far; it is apparent as soon as you leave the airport. There is similar smog and dust and you can see millions of shanty homes from the plane, but still it is clearly more developed and advanced than the North. The only indication of the slum’s among you is a heavy smell in the air of manure and sewerage and the occasional road side tent or makeshift lodge. The buildings vary from the usual low-rise and haphazard to New York style futuristic sky scrapers and Georgian behemoths reminiscent of Westminster. The old and the new are in symbiosis; a Subway sandwich bar for example sits opposite from a rickety looking “pure veg” curry hut where old men attend massive steel pots. It seems one couldn’t exist without the other and no area is uber-modern and none really old; a fact reinforced as you explore the chaotic markets which lay behind the elaborate European style boulevards of the fort area’s banking district.
We enjoy seeing brands we recognise like Sony and Nokia and HSBC but it also feels like a more watered down version of India and we miss a little of the madness that Delhi, Agra and Jaipur gave us. Here people don’t honk their horns feverously when driving and they stick to the correct lane -even going so far as to occasionally obey red lights and indicating when they turn. You can also ask for directions and change when buying things without being stared at with a blank confused expression. It is convenient here though; we enjoy beers and coffee and can find an ATM that doesn’t threaten to steal your money and eat your card, which is always pleasant and reassuring – but somehow it doesn’t seem right – we have grown fond of being blagged and misdirected and everything being tough, it doesn’t feel like we’re really travelling anymore.
We grab a nap then spend the day chilling around the local streets, eating drinking and bargaining. I get a watch for 100 some shades for 75 and a knife for 40, all at least a third off the original asking prices, which gives me a feeling of satisfaction. I also get a cut throat shave that is so close it is unreal for the meagre sum of 20 rupees – the man is skilled and gentle, with an immense attention to detail and he spends over 20 minutes removing my rough facial foliage. Maybe I am the first ginger he’s ever had in his salon (no innuendo please) I think to myself – maybe even the first ever westerner; either way, it’s an excellent shave and a pleasant experience, my beard hasn’t been this short since I was 10 years old, and not a scratch on me.
There are loads of bars around the Fort area, some more expensive ones geared up for westerners with clean painted walls and glass tables, but others are more authentic and frequented by locals with cheap spirits and slightly grimy interiors. The local men drink a lot in Mumbai it seems, ordering a spirit, usually whisky, by the half bottle and sharing it. The spirits come in 30, 60, 180 or 350 ml servings and start at 20rs for a 30ml measure. Beer however is expensive at 100rs a bottle. We eat in a place full of locals called Lalit and for dinner we have some more meat which is welcome. Kath as often is the case is the only girl in the man orientated bar and she gets many stares, but for 500rs we enjoy 3 mains, loads of bread and 2 big spirits and mixers. A pretty wicked feast to top off a lucky and enjoyable day; we are really settling in now and love India, the stress of our first days in Delhi seem a million miles away!
Day 11
Mumbai is very hot and humid and I think I’m going to have to crack out the shorts as trousers are too much. We wake in the night parched and hot as a power-cut renders our ceiling fan redundant, Kath’s throat is dry and she complains she’s going to die – maybe a little over exaggeration but were both feeling the heat, however luckily a hotel attended is kind enough to trek through the dark streets to find us ice cold water. Eventually the fans come back on and we manage some decent sleep and in the morning I blast out some prodigy and have a shower, which I’m sure the locals appreciate.
There isn’t so much to do in terms of monuments and sights here, but just walking the streets is cool. The blend of old and new is very unique, no city I have ever been to resembles it – you can see that Mumbai is on the cusp of being a fully fledged developed city, an appropriate symbol for India perhaps – a perfect visual metaphor for India’s polarised society as shinning sky scrapers emerge from sprawling slums.
First thing we do is head for the local MacDonald’s, I’m not a big fan but it’s the best place to take a nice clean shit in the westernised toilet, and it’s about the only place you can grab a filter coffee that doesn’t break the bank, also they have to give you change so I pay with a 1000 note every time. Maccys has become an oasis in the desert of chaos where western rules apply, no haggling, the correct change and a clean toilet – understandably tourists flock there in their droves – flamingos in the forest – they stand out miles being twice the size of the locals and wearing their bright shorts and vest tops. I laugh at them, then realise I’m just the same and it is a little sobering. Still a sausage McMuffin goes down pretty well and I get over it.
We walk to the coast through wide tree lined boulevards; the view from the coast is more Miami than Mumbai, although as we get closer you can see the buildings aren’t quite so spectacular, lacking a certain cleanness and polish. We walk for a long while, grabbing samosa and munchies, down to the gateway to India, this is a typical relic of the empire, a colossal arch in a classic Victorian style marking the port area out from the surroundings. It is good to be in a place where you can actually follow a map, the streets actually going in lines and even occasionally having sign posts.
We catch a ferry to Elephenta island, the boat is rickety and small and full of locals. In the middle sits a ponderous old engine that seems to expel more in the way of noise than it gives to the propellers. Passengers tussle for the best positions, switching from side to side grabbing pictures, but until we reach the island there isn’t much to look at; the whole of Mumbai including the islands have been overrun by the industrial sprawl, cranes and bleak looking buildings rest on every outcrop and the water is crawling with big ugly fishing vessels and container ships.
Elephant Island itself though is a stark contrast; completely covered with thick forest. From the dark green trees juts an pier – maybe 250 metres in length – and around it many boats of varying size and colour cluster – allowing eager tourists to arrive and depart. The walk to the top of the hill is typical punctuated by hawkers and market sellers who cut a line through the trees, obviously this spoils the tranquillity of an otherwise untouched island. I grab a freshly toasted sweet corn cob for 10 rupees which is amazingly tasty, I don’t get to enjoy it for long though; a hungry ox comes straight for me horns first, I shit myself and start running with the ox giving chase, eventually throwing my corn to the side and making an embarrassing escape.
The top of the complex reveals a series of truly ancient caverns (approx 500AD) carved out directly from the rock face. Like other ancient monument it is remarkable to think how it was possible to create such a thing in such seclusion and without technology on a remote island just a few square miles in size. Even more impressive are the gods carved out from the rock, skilfully crafted and detailed, they show many deities on a grand scale – unfortunately we learn that many have been wantonly destroyed by the Portuguese. Still it is well worth a visit, and we enjoy a cold beer and thali with a majestic view from the hill top resteraunt.
In the evening we explore the Colaba district which I have read is a cool place to hang out, popular with travellers. We wander for ages looking for the action ending up mile out of town and completely lost. Eventually we realise that the main attractions are centred just a few streets away from the gateway itself, we have ended up walking some series miles this day. We head back and find the infamous Leopold’s bar but it is overcrowded and expensive (4 times the usual price) so we don’t bother. We grab a bite to eat at a westernised cafe and it’s probably the worst meal we have had in India! I’m not impressed with Colaba; we realise that unlike many travellers we like the to be in among the real culture of the country; why travel half way round the world to sit with people from back home listening to the same music. Leopold’s is pretty cool don’t get me wrong, a lot like font bar in Manchester; but why come to India for this. We enjoy being out of our comfort zone, fascinated by the sounds sights and smells of a real India; or at least a watered down version of it. I realise that nearly everywhere we have eaten or drunk so far we have been the only white people present, often drawing a lot of attention from the staff who greet us with big smiles and handshakes the next day.
We head back and sleep well, and I feel a bit better than I did when I was sat in Maccies having a McMuffin – we definitely aren’t your usual tourists.
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Elephant Ride
Having previously missed out on the elephant ride today’s mission is to get back to amber and ride the elephant up to the palace. First though we stop in the gym we saw the night before. It is dark and poorly air conditioned but we manage to have a good workout, although the guy insists on making me do his programme of exercises as if I have never used a gym before. Kath goes on the tread while I get put through an arduous series of abdominal workouts, then they get us to pose for pictures with their champion body builder. The guys aren’t as big as they are in the U.K but they like to show off, flexing as they pose for a picture: it is a strange experience, but worthwhile - I ache like hell the next morning.
After breakfast (lots of eggs) we get a rickshaw for the day, the driver we learn spends half the year in France playing accordion at festivals – pretty unusual. We first stop at the monkey temple; an old Hindu temple to the sun atop a high hill which is over-run by monkeys. The trek is a welcome retreat from the chaos of the city and the temple itself is small but refreshingly empty and tranquil. We give the friendly lady who lives in the temple a donation and she tries to sell us some stuff, but she is very polite and lovely, giving us a simple good luck bracelet made of yellow and red thread and putting a dot of red paint on our foreheads. On the way back down we see a holy man who poses for a picture with Kath and smiles when we give him ten rupees; a refreshing change from many of the cheeky beggars who demand more or run off to get there mates when you give them something. We also get some good pictures with the monkeys and the panoramic view of the city.
When we get to amber the elephants have all gone home, disappointed we think we will miss out and Kathy pulls a sad face which breaks my heart. However we find out that if we hang around for 2 hours the rides start again at 3.30, so we have chai and samosas and kill some time. The elephant ride itself is invigorating and the best fun we’ve had so far on the entire trip. The gentle beasts line up in a sort of paddock at the bottom of the hill, each one with different paintings on their trunks and ears. The driver sits on their neck and gently kicks the ears to make them move while we sit on top of a sort of mattress made of various rugs and sheets that adorns the elephant’s back. The elephant is shimmied up to a platform about 10 feet high where we gingerly climb aboard. Imagine traversing a series of speed humps on a penny farthing bicycle and you get an idea of the ride; great fun though as you get a rush of adrenaline, perhaps as you realise you could easily fall off and be trampled by this massive force beneath you. As we pass through the palace gates we pretend we are the royal couple in some bygone day; elephant is certainly a majestic way to travel. It really is a new experience and one that makes me realise how lucky we are to be on this journey; riding an elephant is something everyone should do before they die.
We stop at the markets back in jaipur and make our way to the restaurants; I haven’t ate meat for ages and am desperate to find somewhere witch chicken this evening. On the way we fancy a beer but can’t find a bar so we buy a beer in a shop; I ask if it is ok to drink in the streets, he says no but lets us sit on some crates at the back of his shop and drink up while other customers give us shady looks from the counter. We walk for ages but it is worth it; stumbling upon a cosy restaurant called Handi. Encouragingly chefs grill kebabs on hot charcoal as we enter and the carnivore within me begins to salivate with delight. I thought I could handle vegetarianism – but obviously not!
The meal is exquisite, better than any curry I have ever had in England. The balance of heat and flavour in the mutton handi is perfect, with fragrant cumin and anise complimenting hot chill and cool coriander. I get a half a tandoori chicken which puts Nandos to shame and roti comes out so warm and fresh that it falls apart laden with gorgeous filling, a wicked meal to top off one of the best days ever, India is absolutely incredible.
After breakfast (lots of eggs) we get a rickshaw for the day, the driver we learn spends half the year in France playing accordion at festivals – pretty unusual. We first stop at the monkey temple; an old Hindu temple to the sun atop a high hill which is over-run by monkeys. The trek is a welcome retreat from the chaos of the city and the temple itself is small but refreshingly empty and tranquil. We give the friendly lady who lives in the temple a donation and she tries to sell us some stuff, but she is very polite and lovely, giving us a simple good luck bracelet made of yellow and red thread and putting a dot of red paint on our foreheads. On the way back down we see a holy man who poses for a picture with Kath and smiles when we give him ten rupees; a refreshing change from many of the cheeky beggars who demand more or run off to get there mates when you give them something. We also get some good pictures with the monkeys and the panoramic view of the city.
When we get to amber the elephants have all gone home, disappointed we think we will miss out and Kathy pulls a sad face which breaks my heart. However we find out that if we hang around for 2 hours the rides start again at 3.30, so we have chai and samosas and kill some time. The elephant ride itself is invigorating and the best fun we’ve had so far on the entire trip. The gentle beasts line up in a sort of paddock at the bottom of the hill, each one with different paintings on their trunks and ears. The driver sits on their neck and gently kicks the ears to make them move while we sit on top of a sort of mattress made of various rugs and sheets that adorns the elephant’s back. The elephant is shimmied up to a platform about 10 feet high where we gingerly climb aboard. Imagine traversing a series of speed humps on a penny farthing bicycle and you get an idea of the ride; great fun though as you get a rush of adrenaline, perhaps as you realise you could easily fall off and be trampled by this massive force beneath you. As we pass through the palace gates we pretend we are the royal couple in some bygone day; elephant is certainly a majestic way to travel. It really is a new experience and one that makes me realise how lucky we are to be on this journey; riding an elephant is something everyone should do before they die.
We stop at the markets back in jaipur and make our way to the restaurants; I haven’t ate meat for ages and am desperate to find somewhere witch chicken this evening. On the way we fancy a beer but can’t find a bar so we buy a beer in a shop; I ask if it is ok to drink in the streets, he says no but lets us sit on some crates at the back of his shop and drink up while other customers give us shady looks from the counter. We walk for ages but it is worth it; stumbling upon a cosy restaurant called Handi. Encouragingly chefs grill kebabs on hot charcoal as we enter and the carnivore within me begins to salivate with delight. I thought I could handle vegetarianism – but obviously not!
The meal is exquisite, better than any curry I have ever had in England. The balance of heat and flavour in the mutton handi is perfect, with fragrant cumin and anise complimenting hot chill and cool coriander. I get a half a tandoori chicken which puts Nandos to shame and roti comes out so warm and fresh that it falls apart laden with gorgeous filling, a wicked meal to top off one of the best days ever, India is absolutely incredible.
a bit hung over
Day 8
I am well hung over after my 3 special brews and don’t feel up to much. We decide to have a quiet day visiting the Hawa Mahal and Albert hall only. We get to the old city only to find Kath has left the tickets behind so we have to go there and back, you can tell when it’s going to be an unproductive day so we decide to just chill around the old town. The Hawa Mahal or palace of winds is mediocre compared to many of the sights, but it offers a great view over the city from the highest balconies. We get a bicycle to take us to the Albert Hall which is a grand building very British in style; it is worth a visit – housing a good collection of artefacts from India and all over the world. We eat here also in what looks like a classy European restaurant but it’s actually pretty cheap - we get a tasty thali and enjoy the peace and quiet away from the bustle of the city.
Kath wants to visit the zoo here but I don’t fancy it; as I think the conditions are probably appalling. We do manage to blag our way into the bird sanctuary for free and as suspected it is a poor show, the whole place stinks of faeces and the poor birds are confined in cages that lack any vegetation or water. We try to find the Niwas gardens which are supposed to be nearby but end up in some sketchy looking park where people are lighting fires ready for the evening chill. Kath freaks out as we see a rat the size of your average pet cat digging a tunnel; we got out of there rapid as we see more rats and stray dogs than grass or flowers!
In the evening we head out to find a place to eat and on the way encounter a kaleidoscopic display of lights and live music as trumpets and drums sound the beat to an amazing display of traditional dancing that brightens up the night. There are men dressed as guards in dazzling white costume; some upon white horses which are fabulously dressed with bright red materials and paints and jewels. Several members of the procession hold large electric lamps that resemble massive hooker pipes, all linked up by wires to an old truck that acts as an electricity generator. The mob dance and jump around wailing in delight as cars honk horns and swerve to avoid them. Comically the light bearers become tangled and panic sets in as they try to cross traffic with their sprawling wires. We figure it all must be an elaborate wedding for some rich and important family.
We eat Chinese food which is a refreshing change – the restraint is grand and looks to posh for our budget but once again it is very cheap and excellent quality. Eating out is a pleasure in India.
I am well hung over after my 3 special brews and don’t feel up to much. We decide to have a quiet day visiting the Hawa Mahal and Albert hall only. We get to the old city only to find Kath has left the tickets behind so we have to go there and back, you can tell when it’s going to be an unproductive day so we decide to just chill around the old town. The Hawa Mahal or palace of winds is mediocre compared to many of the sights, but it offers a great view over the city from the highest balconies. We get a bicycle to take us to the Albert Hall which is a grand building very British in style; it is worth a visit – housing a good collection of artefacts from India and all over the world. We eat here also in what looks like a classy European restaurant but it’s actually pretty cheap - we get a tasty thali and enjoy the peace and quiet away from the bustle of the city.
Kath wants to visit the zoo here but I don’t fancy it; as I think the conditions are probably appalling. We do manage to blag our way into the bird sanctuary for free and as suspected it is a poor show, the whole place stinks of faeces and the poor birds are confined in cages that lack any vegetation or water. We try to find the Niwas gardens which are supposed to be nearby but end up in some sketchy looking park where people are lighting fires ready for the evening chill. Kath freaks out as we see a rat the size of your average pet cat digging a tunnel; we got out of there rapid as we see more rats and stray dogs than grass or flowers!
In the evening we head out to find a place to eat and on the way encounter a kaleidoscopic display of lights and live music as trumpets and drums sound the beat to an amazing display of traditional dancing that brightens up the night. There are men dressed as guards in dazzling white costume; some upon white horses which are fabulously dressed with bright red materials and paints and jewels. Several members of the procession hold large electric lamps that resemble massive hooker pipes, all linked up by wires to an old truck that acts as an electricity generator. The mob dance and jump around wailing in delight as cars honk horns and swerve to avoid them. Comically the light bearers become tangled and panic sets in as they try to cross traffic with their sprawling wires. We figure it all must be an elaborate wedding for some rich and important family.
We eat Chinese food which is a refreshing change – the restraint is grand and looks to posh for our budget but once again it is very cheap and excellent quality. Eating out is a pleasure in India.
To jaipur!
Up at 4am to get the 5.10 train, it is cold outside as we auto-rickshaw our way to the station – street people sit beside the embers of dying fires looking tired and sad. The train is on time and as before the big brown leather seats provide comfort, although this time no breakfast – although passing through the aisles an old man sells fantastic chai for 5rs. I see some empty seats and curl up to try and catch some sleep with partial success until a few stations later more people arrive and I can no longer stretch out so I get out my laptop and write the blog.
When we arrive we get hassled and I start getting stressed, hello where you from they say while I try to look stern and ignore them, we call the hotel and they send a driver for free which is refreshing. Krishna Palace hotel is a grand building with an elaborate facade with a genuine palatial feel, it is clean and quiet and the owner is friendly and welcoming. We check in and head to the rooftop restraint which catches the sun and enjoy a breakfast of omelette and toast with jam – as we do every day while we stay here.
For the day’s entertainment we hire an auto-rickshaw and begin a tour of the sights, amazingly we get taken to no shops and first off we get to see the amazing stone observatory at Junta Mantar. This is truly a rich and self indulgent aristocrat’s vision: an observatory made of stone with sundials sextants and star gazing contraptions all on a massive scale. At first glance it appears to be a modern art sculpture park with a myriad of strange staircases and curved surfaces – but after further inspection you see this is an inspired and amazing work of science – each gigantic apparatus a working astrological measuring device.
We skip the palace as we don’t want to pay the 600 entry fee, we have seen plenty of palaces and one more won’t matter and we don’t want to waste the four hours we get from our rickshaw guys. Next he takes us to amber fort stopping at some obscure gatore palace on the way. There are no tourists and the tranquillity is astonishing, the setting too is beautiful – surrounded by steep hills and worn away battlements and walls. We get some cool pictures and head to the next place, the Amber Fort.
The Amber fort and palace complex is another beautiful and awe-inspiring triumph of grandeur and lavishness. It sits atop a hill which itself lies within a beautiful valley lined with trees and thick scrub vegetation, in front of the palace beneath the hills there are immaculately maintained gardens set within a shimmering lake that reflects the setting sun. Tourists enjoy elephant rides up the steep path, but we learn we are too late ourselves to make the trek. Still, it is as magnificent as any offering of ancient Greece or Rome and can’t help to take your breath away despite all the other things we have already seen. From the top we enjoy spectacular views and within the palace itself there is an amazing wall of mirrors that gleams in orange light, it’s wonderful that there is always something new and unusual to see in every new location.
After this we head back to the train station grabbing a samosa for 7rs from the side of the street for lunch, it is delicious; we get dropped where we previously observed a rare sign saying bar. We embark into a restaurant, confused, looking for the anticipated bar- but can’t locate it. Eventually we are led down a shady corridor to find a dimly lit area with a pool table and big fake leather seats, like some kind of backwards Texan diner and so out of place in Jaipur. We find out with each beer you get unlimited popadoms which goes down well – unlikely the beer which we regrettably learn is 8% volume and the Indian equivalent of special brew. By this time we are on our 3rd 600ml bottle and are absolutely trashed, we chat nonsense with some Indian bloke and smoke a dodgey super strong Indian cigarette.
We mock the hawkers as we travel home with a bit of Dutch courage making it easy to get rid of the pesky salesmen and blaggers. “Hmmm... oh yes, wow, but I’ve already got shit loads off them mate”. An old man on a bicycle gets us home quickly before we can cause any major stir. Once back Kath swiftly passes out while I order some curry from the hotel, I wake her up to eat to learn that the bloke from the bar had been ringing the bell trying to find out where the party was at. The first proper drink we have on holiday doesn’t go well but it’s a pretty ace day and a good laugh all round!
When we arrive we get hassled and I start getting stressed, hello where you from they say while I try to look stern and ignore them, we call the hotel and they send a driver for free which is refreshing. Krishna Palace hotel is a grand building with an elaborate facade with a genuine palatial feel, it is clean and quiet and the owner is friendly and welcoming. We check in and head to the rooftop restraint which catches the sun and enjoy a breakfast of omelette and toast with jam – as we do every day while we stay here.
For the day’s entertainment we hire an auto-rickshaw and begin a tour of the sights, amazingly we get taken to no shops and first off we get to see the amazing stone observatory at Junta Mantar. This is truly a rich and self indulgent aristocrat’s vision: an observatory made of stone with sundials sextants and star gazing contraptions all on a massive scale. At first glance it appears to be a modern art sculpture park with a myriad of strange staircases and curved surfaces – but after further inspection you see this is an inspired and amazing work of science – each gigantic apparatus a working astrological measuring device.
We skip the palace as we don’t want to pay the 600 entry fee, we have seen plenty of palaces and one more won’t matter and we don’t want to waste the four hours we get from our rickshaw guys. Next he takes us to amber fort stopping at some obscure gatore palace on the way. There are no tourists and the tranquillity is astonishing, the setting too is beautiful – surrounded by steep hills and worn away battlements and walls. We get some cool pictures and head to the next place, the Amber Fort.
The Amber fort and palace complex is another beautiful and awe-inspiring triumph of grandeur and lavishness. It sits atop a hill which itself lies within a beautiful valley lined with trees and thick scrub vegetation, in front of the palace beneath the hills there are immaculately maintained gardens set within a shimmering lake that reflects the setting sun. Tourists enjoy elephant rides up the steep path, but we learn we are too late ourselves to make the trek. Still, it is as magnificent as any offering of ancient Greece or Rome and can’t help to take your breath away despite all the other things we have already seen. From the top we enjoy spectacular views and within the palace itself there is an amazing wall of mirrors that gleams in orange light, it’s wonderful that there is always something new and unusual to see in every new location.
After this we head back to the train station grabbing a samosa for 7rs from the side of the street for lunch, it is delicious; we get dropped where we previously observed a rare sign saying bar. We embark into a restaurant, confused, looking for the anticipated bar- but can’t locate it. Eventually we are led down a shady corridor to find a dimly lit area with a pool table and big fake leather seats, like some kind of backwards Texan diner and so out of place in Jaipur. We find out with each beer you get unlimited popadoms which goes down well – unlikely the beer which we regrettably learn is 8% volume and the Indian equivalent of special brew. By this time we are on our 3rd 600ml bottle and are absolutely trashed, we chat nonsense with some Indian bloke and smoke a dodgey super strong Indian cigarette.
We mock the hawkers as we travel home with a bit of Dutch courage making it easy to get rid of the pesky salesmen and blaggers. “Hmmm... oh yes, wow, but I’ve already got shit loads off them mate”. An old man on a bicycle gets us home quickly before we can cause any major stir. Once back Kath swiftly passes out while I order some curry from the hotel, I wake her up to eat to learn that the bloke from the bar had been ringing the bell trying to find out where the party was at. The first proper drink we have on holiday doesn’t go well but it’s a pretty ace day and a good laugh all round!
fatehpur sikri - ghost town
Day 6
Today we have a chilled out day, no travelling just time together to relax. We head to the ghost city or Fatehpur Sikri, first we get in a rickshaw and ask to get to an ATM then to the city which is approx 25km from Agra, but none of the bastard banks seem to want to dispense cash. Fortunately on the way I bump into Munna who says it is not possible to go all this way on a rickshaw and blags me into getting a taxi which costs 1000 rupees. I get stressed at once again having my plans derailed, but later I realise it was probably the best choice as it is a very long distances and the rickshaws are bumpy and noisy, which is great for city travel but not for long distance excursions.
The gent who runs some of the rickshaws (Munna’s boss) for some unknown reason tags along in the taxi, even lending me 2000rs when I can’t find a cash machine that works. I thought he was on some kind of scam but I think it turns out he just likes to hang round with us. A lot of people like to chat and take pictures with us, it’s a bit like being a minor celebrity; I come to the conclusion they aspire to one day move to England as many speak of a desire to visit London and perhaps they like to chat with us to indulge these fantasies and fuel their imagination.
Fatehpur Sikri is a majestic hilltop fort/palace set within the surroundings of green countryside and flat plains – clearly an excellent vantage point for the now bygone emperor to survey his land. This is the first time we get out into the countryside and it is surprisingly lush and fertile in appearance. Irrigated arable land being farmed by ancient rust ridden tractors is framed by hillsides littered with thick scrub reminiscent of southern Italy or Greece – not the barren deserts I had expected.
The palace complex itself is unusual in architecture: borrowing much from the oriental style of Ming china with slanted rooftops and ornate tranquil gardens and water features (although the ponds are always dry and neglected in every location except the Taj). The most impressive thing though about this palace is its sheer size – with each courtyard leading to another and another – with all kinds of buildings for different purposes. We wander aimlessly through them: enjoying the peace that is to be had out of the crazy city and although we know little of the history as we choose not to pay a guide we are glad; as other tourists stand bemused by their heavily accented rapid talking supposed experts.
Further down we reach the mosque which is an altogether more impressive and decorative triumph off architecture and art. The gates are imposing and colourfully decorated and within the tombs of marble are impressively well preserved. We inadvertently pick up a guide who claims to be a student and wants no money, foolishly I take his guidance which leads me into being sat down and blagged into buying a souvenir from his “father”. Still it was good to get some background on the mosque and he gets us a ribbon to tie round the marble gate at the tomb and as tradition goes we make a wish.
On the way out children hassle us for our used entrance tickets for whatever reason, which soon wears thin as we try a romantic walk down from the fort to the car park. We eventually find our car and head back to the hotel, only getting dragged into one store on the way back. All in all a good day out although by by the time we get back it is past sun set so is too late to have a sunset meal overlooking the Taj Mahal – we eat at the tourist rest house instead in and the pleasantly lit courtyard makes for a relaxing meal.
Today we have a chilled out day, no travelling just time together to relax. We head to the ghost city or Fatehpur Sikri, first we get in a rickshaw and ask to get to an ATM then to the city which is approx 25km from Agra, but none of the bastard banks seem to want to dispense cash. Fortunately on the way I bump into Munna who says it is not possible to go all this way on a rickshaw and blags me into getting a taxi which costs 1000 rupees. I get stressed at once again having my plans derailed, but later I realise it was probably the best choice as it is a very long distances and the rickshaws are bumpy and noisy, which is great for city travel but not for long distance excursions.
The gent who runs some of the rickshaws (Munna’s boss) for some unknown reason tags along in the taxi, even lending me 2000rs when I can’t find a cash machine that works. I thought he was on some kind of scam but I think it turns out he just likes to hang round with us. A lot of people like to chat and take pictures with us, it’s a bit like being a minor celebrity; I come to the conclusion they aspire to one day move to England as many speak of a desire to visit London and perhaps they like to chat with us to indulge these fantasies and fuel their imagination.
Fatehpur Sikri is a majestic hilltop fort/palace set within the surroundings of green countryside and flat plains – clearly an excellent vantage point for the now bygone emperor to survey his land. This is the first time we get out into the countryside and it is surprisingly lush and fertile in appearance. Irrigated arable land being farmed by ancient rust ridden tractors is framed by hillsides littered with thick scrub reminiscent of southern Italy or Greece – not the barren deserts I had expected.
The palace complex itself is unusual in architecture: borrowing much from the oriental style of Ming china with slanted rooftops and ornate tranquil gardens and water features (although the ponds are always dry and neglected in every location except the Taj). The most impressive thing though about this palace is its sheer size – with each courtyard leading to another and another – with all kinds of buildings for different purposes. We wander aimlessly through them: enjoying the peace that is to be had out of the crazy city and although we know little of the history as we choose not to pay a guide we are glad; as other tourists stand bemused by their heavily accented rapid talking supposed experts.
Further down we reach the mosque which is an altogether more impressive and decorative triumph off architecture and art. The gates are imposing and colourfully decorated and within the tombs of marble are impressively well preserved. We inadvertently pick up a guide who claims to be a student and wants no money, foolishly I take his guidance which leads me into being sat down and blagged into buying a souvenir from his “father”. Still it was good to get some background on the mosque and he gets us a ribbon to tie round the marble gate at the tomb and as tradition goes we make a wish.
On the way out children hassle us for our used entrance tickets for whatever reason, which soon wears thin as we try a romantic walk down from the fort to the car park. We eventually find our car and head back to the hotel, only getting dragged into one store on the way back. All in all a good day out although by by the time we get back it is past sun set so is too late to have a sunset meal overlooking the Taj Mahal – we eat at the tourist rest house instead in and the pleasantly lit courtyard makes for a relaxing meal.
the taj
Day 5
Today we take the train to Agra early morning. The train is much more spacious and comfortable than ever we could imagine. The car it seems is reserved for tourists and only half filled so we ride in comfort, even getting a complimentary tea and biscuit then a breakfast of toast and jam and a gorgeous vegetable pakora: not bad for the 370 rupees fare. From the window I can see a slice of the poverty India has to show, as through heavy pollution smog we see shanty dwellings punctuated with litter and debris. The smog is thick and engulfs everything making it barely possible to observe anything except that close to the rail side.
We get chatting to a Singaporean lad called Seth and he helps pass the time, upon arrival we share a cab and end up staying in the same hotel. The place we go to is called the tourist rest house and is featured in all the guide books. It is a tranquil oasis in the chaos of India with a beautiful garden at its centre which is romantically lit at night with fairy lights and candles: at 550rs (£8) per night it is great value. We stop for breakfast – banana pancakes and toast and 2 pots of coffee to recharge.
With Seth we get an auto-rickshaw for the day at a good rate of 300rs and head round the city. We first stop at the Agra fort which is impressive with towering red walls and ornate facade. Comically as Seth takes a picture on his Polaroid camera he is mobbed by the hawkers who for a change want something off him. We have to run and retreat behind the heavy traffic and take another picture where they can’t get to us.
We now head out to the ‘baby Taj’ which is a magnificent structure in its own right. The marble work is amazing glowing bright white in the now fierce sun. The facade has amazingly detailed carvings and within there are fresco paintings on the floors and walls. Across the river from its rear you can see urchins toiling by the water side and families washing clothes by the banks – a young boy says “hello” and smiles and waves from below. I don’t think they’ve seen many gingers round here.
Next to the backside view of the Taj Mahal through the streets of Agra with all the amazing sights this entails. Agra has a different feel to Delhi, obviously owning to its smaller size, there are less big buildings and more small dwellings/shops and the streets are more frequented by goats and cows as well as cars and motorcycles. We pass more open areas on the way and here we see locals laying out saris and ornate rugs along side of the road, creating a beautiful tapestry of colour, so bright as to almost be surreal, like over emphasised Technicolor in old films.
The view of the Taj is spectacular, despite heavy mist obfuscating the true glory of this sad and beguiling architecture. Still it takes your breath away, and nothing can prepare you for how magnificent it is. Later we visit it up close and learn just how good it is.
Our charismatic and knowledgeable driver Munna explains about the origin of the Taj and how the ancient techniques of inlaying marble are still used in Agra today – he is better than any annoying guide you can pay for by the hour. We stop off at a handicrafts shop where marble is made to see the techniques being used. It is inspiring to see the young boys chipping away at dense marble with chisels and shaping the stones by hand using a foot powered lathe. However, as usual you get nothing for free – and the owner of the place tries to sell us marble with the promises of cheap shipping, were not buying but the experience is worthwhile.
Munna is an honest rickshaw driver unlike any others we’ve met and he explains straight up that he gets 20rs for sending us to the shops, now we know why every driver we get tries to stop at the bloody shops. We say we want lunch and he swiftly pulls in round the back of the road to a wonderfully tranquil garden, and even better the waiter explains we can get beers; which is a real rarity. We eat with our driver and have a beer and chat and it is a really relaxing afternoon. This is definitely the life; already this is proving to be a great day.
Before sunset we head to the Taj Mahal and are greeted with a 750rs each entry fee and a very long queue. We are a little vexed as 1500rs can buy you a hotel and meals for 2 days and the locals pay only 10rs, however you can’t exactly come all this way then turn around and leave it. The queue is also annoying as soon it will be dark, for me and Seth it isn’t so bad but for Kath it takes about half an hour – but it certainly is worth it!
The magnificent gate that masks the Taj until the last moment is amazing in its own right. It towers high above you (maybe 60 metres) and conjures in your imagination an idea of the grandeur this site would have represented back when the Mughal emperor’s reigned in India. The facia of the gate is ornate with one central archway mirrored by 4 others, 2 either side of the gate. These are creamy yellow in colour and have many decorations in traditional blue across them. As you pass through the gate finally the Taj presents itself and the first glimpse cannot help but take your breath away. The first thing that gets you is the sheer size of the thing – no wonder it took 20,000 people 22 years to construct it. I have never seen the pyramids but expect they have a similar impact; certainly it far surpasses the coliseum of Rome in its impressiveness for me. It has an enchanting beauty fitting its purpose as a memorial to the emperor’s lost love Mumtaz. The central domed structure is beautifully symmetrical with the main dome and 2 smaller ones on either side. The eloquent turrets on either side are placed with a genius attention to details and geometry so that there seems to be 4 of them each the same distance from the central structure. The whole thing seems scientifically designed with the water adding another mirror image from the front; it is a shame it is so busy and crawling with people.
We hear that at sunset the Taj reflects the sunlight to create an amazing orange glow but unfortunately we wait but observe only the slightest change in hue. We quickly try to enter to see the detail within but there is a massive queue and by the time we enter there is only the barest glow remaining in the sky. Up close you can see the detail is amazing; because it is solid marble- such a durable material – it appears to have hardly been worn at all; this is what makes it so impressive in comparison to other temples and palaces. Inside we are ushered through quickly by heavy handed guards, while torch beams give the only haphazard glimpse of the majestic jewel inlaid marble within. Only in India could the greatest monument not have a single light within, however as we run through in darkness with hoards of other people beside us it is quite exciting – like something from raiders of the lost ark!
We return to find our driver has gone as the streets have been closed due to some accident; however the dedicated man has waited and eventually hunts us down - what a legend. He takes us back and we give him a good tip and a Polaroid for being such a good man; all in all it has been a spectacular day with amazing sights and good company. We finish up with dinner and a few whiskeys and vodkas at the hotels tranquil garden. It is a shame to part company with Seth who leaves in the morning, it has been the best day ever, and the Taj the greatest thing I have ever seen.
Today we take the train to Agra early morning. The train is much more spacious and comfortable than ever we could imagine. The car it seems is reserved for tourists and only half filled so we ride in comfort, even getting a complimentary tea and biscuit then a breakfast of toast and jam and a gorgeous vegetable pakora: not bad for the 370 rupees fare. From the window I can see a slice of the poverty India has to show, as through heavy pollution smog we see shanty dwellings punctuated with litter and debris. The smog is thick and engulfs everything making it barely possible to observe anything except that close to the rail side.
We get chatting to a Singaporean lad called Seth and he helps pass the time, upon arrival we share a cab and end up staying in the same hotel. The place we go to is called the tourist rest house and is featured in all the guide books. It is a tranquil oasis in the chaos of India with a beautiful garden at its centre which is romantically lit at night with fairy lights and candles: at 550rs (£8) per night it is great value. We stop for breakfast – banana pancakes and toast and 2 pots of coffee to recharge.
With Seth we get an auto-rickshaw for the day at a good rate of 300rs and head round the city. We first stop at the Agra fort which is impressive with towering red walls and ornate facade. Comically as Seth takes a picture on his Polaroid camera he is mobbed by the hawkers who for a change want something off him. We have to run and retreat behind the heavy traffic and take another picture where they can’t get to us.
We now head out to the ‘baby Taj’ which is a magnificent structure in its own right. The marble work is amazing glowing bright white in the now fierce sun. The facade has amazingly detailed carvings and within there are fresco paintings on the floors and walls. Across the river from its rear you can see urchins toiling by the water side and families washing clothes by the banks – a young boy says “hello” and smiles and waves from below. I don’t think they’ve seen many gingers round here.
Next to the backside view of the Taj Mahal through the streets of Agra with all the amazing sights this entails. Agra has a different feel to Delhi, obviously owning to its smaller size, there are less big buildings and more small dwellings/shops and the streets are more frequented by goats and cows as well as cars and motorcycles. We pass more open areas on the way and here we see locals laying out saris and ornate rugs along side of the road, creating a beautiful tapestry of colour, so bright as to almost be surreal, like over emphasised Technicolor in old films.
The view of the Taj is spectacular, despite heavy mist obfuscating the true glory of this sad and beguiling architecture. Still it takes your breath away, and nothing can prepare you for how magnificent it is. Later we visit it up close and learn just how good it is.
Our charismatic and knowledgeable driver Munna explains about the origin of the Taj and how the ancient techniques of inlaying marble are still used in Agra today – he is better than any annoying guide you can pay for by the hour. We stop off at a handicrafts shop where marble is made to see the techniques being used. It is inspiring to see the young boys chipping away at dense marble with chisels and shaping the stones by hand using a foot powered lathe. However, as usual you get nothing for free – and the owner of the place tries to sell us marble with the promises of cheap shipping, were not buying but the experience is worthwhile.
Munna is an honest rickshaw driver unlike any others we’ve met and he explains straight up that he gets 20rs for sending us to the shops, now we know why every driver we get tries to stop at the bloody shops. We say we want lunch and he swiftly pulls in round the back of the road to a wonderfully tranquil garden, and even better the waiter explains we can get beers; which is a real rarity. We eat with our driver and have a beer and chat and it is a really relaxing afternoon. This is definitely the life; already this is proving to be a great day.
Before sunset we head to the Taj Mahal and are greeted with a 750rs each entry fee and a very long queue. We are a little vexed as 1500rs can buy you a hotel and meals for 2 days and the locals pay only 10rs, however you can’t exactly come all this way then turn around and leave it. The queue is also annoying as soon it will be dark, for me and Seth it isn’t so bad but for Kath it takes about half an hour – but it certainly is worth it!
The magnificent gate that masks the Taj until the last moment is amazing in its own right. It towers high above you (maybe 60 metres) and conjures in your imagination an idea of the grandeur this site would have represented back when the Mughal emperor’s reigned in India. The facia of the gate is ornate with one central archway mirrored by 4 others, 2 either side of the gate. These are creamy yellow in colour and have many decorations in traditional blue across them. As you pass through the gate finally the Taj presents itself and the first glimpse cannot help but take your breath away. The first thing that gets you is the sheer size of the thing – no wonder it took 20,000 people 22 years to construct it. I have never seen the pyramids but expect they have a similar impact; certainly it far surpasses the coliseum of Rome in its impressiveness for me. It has an enchanting beauty fitting its purpose as a memorial to the emperor’s lost love Mumtaz. The central domed structure is beautifully symmetrical with the main dome and 2 smaller ones on either side. The eloquent turrets on either side are placed with a genius attention to details and geometry so that there seems to be 4 of them each the same distance from the central structure. The whole thing seems scientifically designed with the water adding another mirror image from the front; it is a shame it is so busy and crawling with people.
We hear that at sunset the Taj reflects the sunlight to create an amazing orange glow but unfortunately we wait but observe only the slightest change in hue. We quickly try to enter to see the detail within but there is a massive queue and by the time we enter there is only the barest glow remaining in the sky. Up close you can see the detail is amazing; because it is solid marble- such a durable material – it appears to have hardly been worn at all; this is what makes it so impressive in comparison to other temples and palaces. Inside we are ushered through quickly by heavy handed guards, while torch beams give the only haphazard glimpse of the majestic jewel inlaid marble within. Only in India could the greatest monument not have a single light within, however as we run through in darkness with hoards of other people beside us it is quite exciting – like something from raiders of the lost ark!
We return to find our driver has gone as the streets have been closed due to some accident; however the dedicated man has waited and eventually hunts us down - what a legend. He takes us back and we give him a good tip and a Polaroid for being such a good man; all in all it has been a spectacular day with amazing sights and good company. We finish up with dinner and a few whiskeys and vodkas at the hotels tranquil garden. It is a shame to part company with Seth who leaves in the morning, it has been the best day ever, and the Taj the greatest thing I have ever seen.
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Quick Update
We are in mumbai which is chilled out and seriously more developed than jaipur and agra. I think people realise were not mugs now and far less agro. Tomorow we depart for goa, I dont know when we can update photos and blog but i'm keeping it going and I will up date soon.
I hope somebody is paying attention....
Peace
Tim
I hope somebody is paying attention....
Peace
Tim
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Delhi Overview
The first thing that hits you upon arrival in Delhi is the air. It’s dense and thick and you can see it. Imagine the pictures of 9/11 with detritus everywhere in the atmosphere, except no bomb has caused this. The sun is not strong as it is diffused by the dust clouds and pollution, but it is pleasant and also humid. Things go smoothly in the airport, however I wasn’t prepared for my first cab ride in Delhi.
The cab is a dilapidated jalopy, with a wooden bench in the back and holes in the floor so you can see the road beneath. As soon as he makes his way onto the highway (if you can call it that) you see there are no rules to driving in Delhi. People swerve from one lane to the next without any seeming order. A man in front swiftly does a u-turn and heads back towards the oncoming traffic the expression on his face one of calm, while in the back we make noises to express our fear and amazement. Others are unperturbed; motorcycles pass with one man on the front and one on the back holding a stack of boxes which must be over 2 metres higher than his head, other motorcycles are ridden by men with beautifully dressed women sat on the back – sideways – as if they are having some romantic sit in the park or a candle-lit dinner – and everyone always smiling, not raging despite the madness.
The side of the road is littered with things to see; poor people clad in only dusty rags contently sit aside boiling pots of food which smells delicious. There are discarded materials stacked to create what must be make-shift dwellings, tarpaulin strewn across the top to create sort of permanent tents. Amongst these there are people and livestock, scrawny looking cows or goats and men and women, all toiling away in the heat to survive. Everything looks stripped down to the barest, the dogs look tired and unhappy and the buildings seem to be the minimum amount of shelter to be functional. Nothing looks finished, everything still being built or maybe falling apart. It is almost like an organic form of urbanity: a growing mass of buildings and people that seems to be ever-changing.
Nearer the centre there starts to be commercial activities. So colourfully, stalls and shops line the streets creating an amazing feast for the eyes and the ears and nose as well, as smells sounds and sights hit you unavoidably. The shops are well dressed and inviting, yet they make the bottom floors of gigantic tower blocks which appear to be room upon room, although what kind of furniture or facilities lay within I can only guess. The upper levels have open sections, the paint has long since worn away and pieces of wall, timber and many wires all haphazardly protrude from the structures. The shops themselves are not like those we know but a crude series of shelves with a front desk perhaps. Each one looks different and is independently run; there are no chain stores here in India it seems. Products on sale range from usual snacks and drinks, groceries, and quickly made curries too unexpectedly many mobile phone stores. There are also men with carts stacked with fruits and vegetables at the side of the road providing extra colour to the already crowded streets. Central Delhi around Connaught place you see occasional signs of India’s newly found wealth, with awesome high rise offices and the curved tower blocks of its central government offices juxtaposed with this makeshift and haphazard style which is more common.
The sound in India is ever present, car noise and honking horns is standard and inescapable, then there are the street sellers waxing lyrical about their products at full voice. There are many dialects, all of which blend to create a constant buzz in the back ground that is indecipherable but so distinctly places you on another continent. The air in Delhi too has a scent. A slight charcoal twang perhaps from all the fuel burning in the heat is interspersed with the occasionally beautiful whiff of fragrant spice. It is not an unpleasant odour not so much that of sewers and grime as I perhaps expected.
The dress here is also different to expectations. Not so colourful and elaborate as the saris you see in England – most wear bland earthy colours like brown and grey and heavy maroon. The men wear smart trousers or jeans and shirts with polished black or brown shoes, and many wear waistcoats that are thick and warming above their shirt in bright colours like orange or yellow. For them it is winter now, but we still feel pleasantly warm. Women wear mostly jeans with fancy traditional shirts/blouses if they are more of western style, or others or covered with draping material which is usually white or again an earthen tone in more traditional style. No-one wears short sleeves or shorts/skirts but women especially are always fully covered on the arms and legs. I have hereby taken to wearing a shirt and trousers and Kath a traditional Indian dress with long sleeves in attempt to blend in and stay respectful.
You can do a lot in Delhi but you must not be led off your path, as many people want to distract you and take you to shops you don’t wish to visit. If you are direct with them and to the point you will avoid this agro. The food is amazing and just going through the streets is awesome. All in all a great place.
The cab is a dilapidated jalopy, with a wooden bench in the back and holes in the floor so you can see the road beneath. As soon as he makes his way onto the highway (if you can call it that) you see there are no rules to driving in Delhi. People swerve from one lane to the next without any seeming order. A man in front swiftly does a u-turn and heads back towards the oncoming traffic the expression on his face one of calm, while in the back we make noises to express our fear and amazement. Others are unperturbed; motorcycles pass with one man on the front and one on the back holding a stack of boxes which must be over 2 metres higher than his head, other motorcycles are ridden by men with beautifully dressed women sat on the back – sideways – as if they are having some romantic sit in the park or a candle-lit dinner – and everyone always smiling, not raging despite the madness.
The side of the road is littered with things to see; poor people clad in only dusty rags contently sit aside boiling pots of food which smells delicious. There are discarded materials stacked to create what must be make-shift dwellings, tarpaulin strewn across the top to create sort of permanent tents. Amongst these there are people and livestock, scrawny looking cows or goats and men and women, all toiling away in the heat to survive. Everything looks stripped down to the barest, the dogs look tired and unhappy and the buildings seem to be the minimum amount of shelter to be functional. Nothing looks finished, everything still being built or maybe falling apart. It is almost like an organic form of urbanity: a growing mass of buildings and people that seems to be ever-changing.
Nearer the centre there starts to be commercial activities. So colourfully, stalls and shops line the streets creating an amazing feast for the eyes and the ears and nose as well, as smells sounds and sights hit you unavoidably. The shops are well dressed and inviting, yet they make the bottom floors of gigantic tower blocks which appear to be room upon room, although what kind of furniture or facilities lay within I can only guess. The upper levels have open sections, the paint has long since worn away and pieces of wall, timber and many wires all haphazardly protrude from the structures. The shops themselves are not like those we know but a crude series of shelves with a front desk perhaps. Each one looks different and is independently run; there are no chain stores here in India it seems. Products on sale range from usual snacks and drinks, groceries, and quickly made curries too unexpectedly many mobile phone stores. There are also men with carts stacked with fruits and vegetables at the side of the road providing extra colour to the already crowded streets. Central Delhi around Connaught place you see occasional signs of India’s newly found wealth, with awesome high rise offices and the curved tower blocks of its central government offices juxtaposed with this makeshift and haphazard style which is more common.
The sound in India is ever present, car noise and honking horns is standard and inescapable, then there are the street sellers waxing lyrical about their products at full voice. There are many dialects, all of which blend to create a constant buzz in the back ground that is indecipherable but so distinctly places you on another continent. The air in Delhi too has a scent. A slight charcoal twang perhaps from all the fuel burning in the heat is interspersed with the occasionally beautiful whiff of fragrant spice. It is not an unpleasant odour not so much that of sewers and grime as I perhaps expected.
The dress here is also different to expectations. Not so colourful and elaborate as the saris you see in England – most wear bland earthy colours like brown and grey and heavy maroon. The men wear smart trousers or jeans and shirts with polished black or brown shoes, and many wear waistcoats that are thick and warming above their shirt in bright colours like orange or yellow. For them it is winter now, but we still feel pleasantly warm. Women wear mostly jeans with fancy traditional shirts/blouses if they are more of western style, or others or covered with draping material which is usually white or again an earthen tone in more traditional style. No-one wears short sleeves or shorts/skirts but women especially are always fully covered on the arms and legs. I have hereby taken to wearing a shirt and trousers and Kath a traditional Indian dress with long sleeves in attempt to blend in and stay respectful.
You can do a lot in Delhi but you must not be led off your path, as many people want to distract you and take you to shops you don’t wish to visit. If you are direct with them and to the point you will avoid this agro. The food is amazing and just going through the streets is awesome. All in all a great place.
day 4 - now were touring
Today we are determined not to get taken off track and waste time with these scammers so we are up early (I feel like shit from the beers) and we get straight to the train station. Here we sort out all are tickets, this takes approx 1 hour as each time you need to fill in a form and submit it to a desk for completion, but all in all its pretty hassle free. We eat again at the curry place across the road, this time it is even better – more spicy but we thing we lay off the street vendors for a while after we see a rat scurry under the table in front.
We hire a tuk-tuk to the old town and tell him no shops etc, 2 times previous we have been blagged into going into shops against our will but this time we are ok. We get to the Ref Fort – Lal Qila, it is spectacular from the outside, with tremendous red walls towering above the chaotic streets. We pay 250 to go inside and it is a good experience, although somewhat not what we expected, there is a tranquillity and beauty inside as well maintained gardens and ancient buildings are secluded from the chaos outside. There is a run of the mill museum inside, but generally it is well worth a visit and a welcome peaceful walk through the gardens does us the world of good.
After we get a bicycle rickshaw to take us to the magnificent mosque which divides old Delhi. I feel bad as the old man huffs and puffs with us on the back while we relax and take in the sights. Old Delhi is even crazier, the traffic barely moves as people and bicycles choke the streets and bring them to a standstill. The buildings are even more primitive and derelict in appearance, few having doors or windows and most having an unbelievable number of layers. One building is built upon another until you can see a mass of dwellings all upon one another spiralling on forever. No wonder Delhi is the most densely populated country in the world.
The mosque is the most beautiful sight I have seen so far in India. Unsurpassed until the Taj Mahal. It is eloquently placed in the midst of such absolute chaos, but it echoes with peace and calm. The main dome is fantastic white structure above the dusty browns of the city and the two towers stand tall above the skyline, the tallest things in sight. I am not religious but can feel the power of the building in the midst of such a busy place, as within all is calm and quiet and people are respectful. We go up the tower to the top and look out over the city for a fantastic view of the red fort and the old towns winding streets. We learn that north of the mosque is Hindu only, and the south reserved for Muslims: Interesting how in this city unlike others, different religions live so harmoniously.
We take a walk through the market bazaars of Old Delhi and it is intense. The streets are alive with activity, like New Delhi but tenfold. Here the sprawling wires and makeshift shops are haywire and haphazard how it all works is a mystery as cable after cable engulfs the skyline and ramshackle signs in English are the only hint of normality in what can only be explained as organised chaos. It looks like Victorian England but with a bit of crude technology thrown in as person after person lines the bazaar and ambitious motorcyclist weave in and out of the pedestrians. We drink some massala chai and eat some strange potato thing while other less adventurous tourists just watch and take pictures.
All in all this was a great day, now settled in we have less hassle and finally do some proper tourism.
We hire a tuk-tuk to the old town and tell him no shops etc, 2 times previous we have been blagged into going into shops against our will but this time we are ok. We get to the Ref Fort – Lal Qila, it is spectacular from the outside, with tremendous red walls towering above the chaotic streets. We pay 250 to go inside and it is a good experience, although somewhat not what we expected, there is a tranquillity and beauty inside as well maintained gardens and ancient buildings are secluded from the chaos outside. There is a run of the mill museum inside, but generally it is well worth a visit and a welcome peaceful walk through the gardens does us the world of good.
After we get a bicycle rickshaw to take us to the magnificent mosque which divides old Delhi. I feel bad as the old man huffs and puffs with us on the back while we relax and take in the sights. Old Delhi is even crazier, the traffic barely moves as people and bicycles choke the streets and bring them to a standstill. The buildings are even more primitive and derelict in appearance, few having doors or windows and most having an unbelievable number of layers. One building is built upon another until you can see a mass of dwellings all upon one another spiralling on forever. No wonder Delhi is the most densely populated country in the world.
The mosque is the most beautiful sight I have seen so far in India. Unsurpassed until the Taj Mahal. It is eloquently placed in the midst of such absolute chaos, but it echoes with peace and calm. The main dome is fantastic white structure above the dusty browns of the city and the two towers stand tall above the skyline, the tallest things in sight. I am not religious but can feel the power of the building in the midst of such a busy place, as within all is calm and quiet and people are respectful. We go up the tower to the top and look out over the city for a fantastic view of the red fort and the old towns winding streets. We learn that north of the mosque is Hindu only, and the south reserved for Muslims: Interesting how in this city unlike others, different religions live so harmoniously.
We take a walk through the market bazaars of Old Delhi and it is intense. The streets are alive with activity, like New Delhi but tenfold. Here the sprawling wires and makeshift shops are haywire and haphazard how it all works is a mystery as cable after cable engulfs the skyline and ramshackle signs in English are the only hint of normality in what can only be explained as organised chaos. It looks like Victorian England but with a bit of crude technology thrown in as person after person lines the bazaar and ambitious motorcyclist weave in and out of the pedestrians. We drink some massala chai and eat some strange potato thing while other less adventurous tourists just watch and take pictures.
All in all this was a great day, now settled in we have less hassle and finally do some proper tourism.
day 3 - no more hassle
Yesterday night I managed to get my hair cut at a local barber for 50 rupees (70p). He did a brilliant job although I was a little worried by his blunt scissors. He made Kath a sweet massala tea while she waited. It was a good experience. In the morning we woke late after an exhausting day before, and I went to find a new hotel at a better rate. After a couple of inspections a satisfactory place was found called the Astoria, and at 750 a night it was a lot cheaper than the previous place. When I go back to the hotel Kath is panicking her passport is gone. But its ok its in the bottom of her bag! Phew.
We move to the other hotel and a man says he’s from the hotel and will help with bags, he then waits outside while we get ready. Today we want to see the markets and old town and he will take us on his tuk-tuk when were ready to go. We set off but soon realise once again were being taken to the “tourist information” they won’t take no for an answer so eventually we go along with them and we go inside and ask about a bus to Agra. 1500 he says –we don’t know if this is any good so we leave but not after being hard sold 100 things we don’t want. We say to the drivers now we want to go to the market but they take us to another office! I get angry and tell them I have wasted enough time but somehow they persuade me to go inside. Like a mug I listen to the sales man, they are so good at selling it’s unreal, I would definitely have given them a chance at my old job in debt recovery. We wasted another 45 minutes in the shop – this time being told we can get a train ticket from him when all the rest said I couldn’t get one. However we must come back later. He then goes back to trying to sell us a car and driver for 7 days – despite my explaining we are backpacking on a tight budget. I finally get pissed off and walk out raging that we wasted half the day speaking with these fools! Later we go to the train station to find we can book tickets without problem but we must have our passports, so we schedule a visit to the station the next day first thing. Advice for any other travels, booking trains is stress free you don’t need to book months in advance or worry at all. Go to the station and you will be able to book directly with no fees and no hassle.
We visit Janpath market on foot after our bad experience with the tuk-tuk, visiting Macdonald’s on the way where you can get an aloo-tikka burger for 25 rupees. This is a pretty tasty snack for 35p! The market is amazing, the colours are fantastic and crowds of people hustle and bustle their way through the streets trying to negotiate the best deals. We stay clear of the market because it is a bit stressful, with sellers hastling you if you look into their stall with too much interest – “we have good price, best quality – you like?”. I’m still a bit stressed from before so try and keep a wide berth. We goto some shops close buy and get a good deal on a couple of items. These shops are fixed priced too so less haggling and less chance of getting ripped off.
We grab a couple of beers from the shop and head to a park area to drink them – there are very few bars in India and people mostly don’t drink or just drink in the home. As we drink our beers people come over and ask for our picture many times. We get this a lot here – especially Kath – all the children say hello and shake her hand and want a picture, I think she likes the attention. We also get hassled for ear cleaning and shoe shinning but we manage to get away without paying any money.
After the train station we head into the area opposite where there are many food stalls where the people do the cooking at the side of the street. One place is particularly busy so we decide to stop and try it. We get 4 types of curry and unlimited chappati for 60 rupees each (90p): we sit on a bench next to other customers who are all scoffing away, here you don’t use a knife and fork but mop up the sauce with bread and then eat the rest with your fingers, we get a spoon however. It is really tasty and we survive the next day without Delhi belly. A good risk taken. The owner is very friendly and when I offer extra money as a tip he refuses, so I give 20 to the cook, it is good to meet some nice friendly people for a change.
After we head down the area where all the hotels are called Karol Bagh, near the station. The streets are lit up with neon signs like Blackpool and it feels more like Amsterdam than Delhi, many winding side streets lead to seedy looking places and every alleyway has more and more shops. We find a bar and finally get some beers. The bar has no windows and from outside looks slightly dodgy I think this is because drinking is somewhat taboo. In side there are blue neon lights and glass tables, it seems like something from back in Manchester, there are no seats so we sat at the bar. Kath is the only girl in the whole places and she gets a lot of attention from a fat Sikh bloke. We also get chatting to a bloke called Gerry from England who is an ex army guy who is now on a spiritual journey. It’s a cool evening and we head back to the hotel and get a bit more drunk, all in all a decent day despite the hassle.
Monday, 6 December 2010
day 2 - tourist information
On day 2 we learned that in india tourist information means tourist mis-information. We swiftly leave our shady room and get to the main place in delhi - connought place. We soon realise the place is vast, what looks like piccadilly in manchester on the map is the size of the whole of Manchester. It takes time to get everywhere and from hotel 1 to connaught place takes 50 minutes on a moratrized rickshaw, this is a scooter with a bench seat on the back and the cheapest way a to b. So were dropped off in search of our next hotel. Except everything is closed, but hello a well dressed well spoken man says in english hello are you lost. He explains he will help us but everything is closed and we best goto the tourist information. How helpful - he sends us in a a rickshaw (tuk-tuk) and just for 10 ruppee's. Great, so we speak to the gent in the tourist information explaining we just want a hotel and a train ticket to agra. Oh no he says we cannot get the train it is all fully booked, and we dont want to spend more than an afternoon in Delhi, we must drive to agra tonight then to some places I have never heard of all with a driver and car, and this will cost 60,00 rupees. (approx 900 £) - what an arse. I realise he is full of b/s but cannot escape the office, he points to a map of Delhi, says he is the tourist information office on the map, it even has the right address written on the office doors, but clearly this is not true. As we leave he says if I leave Delhi is not safe and I will not come back etc etc, other people are not good they will take advantage of us... hmmm and hes a saint I geuss? As we leave further we are mobbed, cab drivers, rickshaw drivers, people selling hanckerchiefs and who knows what other crap!! AHHH....... we make an exit towards a coffee shop to formulate a plan.
While we sit in the coffee shop we see a spy from the office inside, so we decide to quickly leave with our massive travel bags and goto a hotel in our guide book called palace heights. We dive out of the coffee shop to the nearest rickshaw who takes us there reluctantly when we say we have a booking, although he says "what a shame you have booked, my unlce runs a good place - good price. (I bet!) So we get to the hotel and the man demmands 100 rupees althought the journey was less than 3 minutes. So this is what its like being a toruist I think. Thats the last time I ever got in a taxi or rickshaw without setting price first.
We go into the hotel but like it's name its a palace and well outside our price range. However we are taken to a man who knows a man, he says get into this car and take us to another office! Oh great. However this salesman is not so forceful and books us a hotel for 1800. We get there and it is very nice clean and good although located in what seems to be a crazy free for all market place with endless mazing streets. Finally we relax sort out our bags and have some breakfast. While the driver from the office waits outside. He will take us around the city today for 600 - a decent price it seems.
Later we do the sights of delhi - india gate, palace, ghandi museum, hindu temple and new city markets etc. Finally we have arrived. It only took a whole day and a half to get to grips with this mad city. So the driver takes us back to the hotel, and I pay, except he has no change and I only have 1000 notes. I manage to sqeeze 200 change back from him but overpay for the experience. Still day 2 is a good day some amazing sights. I just cant help going to bed feeling a little sour. But it's nice to be in a good hotel and it even has a proper hot running shower!!!
While we sit in the coffee shop we see a spy from the office inside, so we decide to quickly leave with our massive travel bags and goto a hotel in our guide book called palace heights. We dive out of the coffee shop to the nearest rickshaw who takes us there reluctantly when we say we have a booking, although he says "what a shame you have booked, my unlce runs a good place - good price. (I bet!) So we get to the hotel and the man demmands 100 rupees althought the journey was less than 3 minutes. So this is what its like being a toruist I think. Thats the last time I ever got in a taxi or rickshaw without setting price first.
We go into the hotel but like it's name its a palace and well outside our price range. However we are taken to a man who knows a man, he says get into this car and take us to another office! Oh great. However this salesman is not so forceful and books us a hotel for 1800. We get there and it is very nice clean and good although located in what seems to be a crazy free for all market place with endless mazing streets. Finally we relax sort out our bags and have some breakfast. While the driver from the office waits outside. He will take us around the city today for 600 - a decent price it seems.
Later we do the sights of delhi - india gate, palace, ghandi museum, hindu temple and new city markets etc. Finally we have arrived. It only took a whole day and a half to get to grips with this mad city. So the driver takes us back to the hotel, and I pay, except he has no change and I only have 1000 notes. I manage to sqeeze 200 change back from him but overpay for the experience. Still day 2 is a good day some amazing sights. I just cant help going to bed feeling a little sour. But it's nice to be in a good hotel and it even has a proper hot running shower!!!
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