Close shaves... of more than one kind...

Hi all,

Firstly, many thanks for the concerned texts, emails and and so on that everyone sent with regards to the attacks in Mumbai; I'm sorry to have worried so many of you! As it happens, it was actually a fairly close shave, although the first I heard about it was my parents and Rich desperately calling me at 6am India time on Thursday (27th) morning. I had left Mumbai a couple of hours after uploading the last blog, and obviously Ann was a few hours before that, but it was a little worrying in that the hostel where we had been staying was about 50ft away from the Taj Hotel, the 5-star place where the bombs went off and where the hostages had been taken. Also in that Leopold's Cafe, where gunmen apparently walked in and started 'firing indiscriminately', is where we had eaten and gone dancing on our last night. Namely, if the attacks had occurred 48 hours earlier, we would have been in that restaurant. Kind of scary. And particularly prescient given that on our cab-tour around Mumbai on Monday, me and Ann had listened to the taxi-driver spouting off about how he didn't want Muslims in India, and how they were behind every current world problem, including the economic recession. [Other memorable quotes of this guy include his discussion on gay men in Mumbai: "But now they do not dress like the gay, they dress like men. And women like them cause they are dressing good, but the gays say 'I cannot do sex with you, for I am a gay'"]

Anyway, I was far from Mumbai when they did happen, so there isn't much point in dwelling. Perhaps someone up there likes me after all!? As it happens, Tuesday afternoon I had left Mumbai for Arungabad, a modern and commercial, and thus fairly grotty, town that forms the basis for visiting the Ellora caves, a world-heritage site. I was staying in a 75p a night dormitory (which Ann wouldn't have gone within 50ft of - hehehe), but it was quite good in that I found a fellow traveller to accompany me to the caves on Wednesday. It seems I've been pretty lucky, for this girl, who was Slovenian, had been here a month and was really looking forward to going home, having almost completely disliked India. She had done a whirlwind of Delhi-Varanasi-Calcutta-Mumbai-Arungabad in that time though, all big, busy cities with lots of long train journeys between them, so I can understand why she might not have the best impression, but I am very glad I've had a different experience. Can you imagine being stuck for 3 months in a country that you really weren't enjoying? [The caves, by the way, formed monasteries and temples of three different religions, Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism, over a period stretching between the 4th and 8th centuries AD. Lots of huge carved figures strangely reminiscent of Egypt, and one crazy temple that had been hollowed out of the *granite* rock from the top down. A bit like trying to cut an intricately carved temple out of a full tub of flora without cutting off anything you needed, except it taking you 200 years and a LOT of manpower. Pretty cool.]

It was the next morning that I heard about the attacks and managed to get hold of a news channel to find out what was going on (the news has been covering it fairly comprehensively here, although obviously most of it is in Hindi). Another guy staying there was in shock because he had left CST railway station (where there was yet more machine guns) at 9.05pm, and things had kicked off at 9.45pm, so he got REALLY lucky. Early that morning I then headed off on the long and complicated journey to Pachmarhi, so I was actually quite out of the loop for most of it. This wonderous journey involved a 4 hour bus to Jalgaon, a 2 hour break there, and then an 8 hour train to Piparyia, from which I could get another bus or jeep 2 hours to Pachmarhi. The train was ok though, as I managed to end up in a compartment with about 6 guys on a business trip to Varanasi who totally looked out for me. They used this train quite often, so knew what they were doing, and did things like ordering me a (very nice) thali in advance from one of the stations we were going through, and letting me know when I had to get off. In fact, the conductor, coming along to see me off the train at 10.30pm, and alarmed that I had not booked anywhere to stay the night, took me off the train and explained to the station porter the situation, who then took me to a hotel himself and got me a room. Sometimes its useful being a girl travelling on your own, although the guys on the train clearly thought it was quite amazing that I was here alone, that I wanted to join the army, and that I didn't have a boyfriend. One of them was 22 and had eloped with his 16 year old bride the year before in a rare 'love-match'. He was clearly besotted which was quite sweet.

Anyways, next morning (Friday 28th) after a (HOT!!!!!) shower, I continued up to Pachmarhi, which is one of the only hill stations south of Delhi, and, as you can see, a little inaccessible. Hill stations, by the way, include places like Darjeeling and Shimla, and are mountain towns or villages which the British tended to decamp to from the plains when it got (gets) unbearably hot around March-June time. Pachmari, for instance, was where the Brits in Mumbai retreated to. It remains a small, tourist-free village surrounded by forested mountains, waterfalls and caves, and quickly after I arrived became one of my favourite places in India thus far. Its so quiet! And forested! (It struck me on the jeep drive up there through these windy mountain roads that this was the first time I had seen actual deciduous forest in India, as compared to the deserts of the north and the tropical jungle of the south. It was even vaguely autumn-tinged!) Pretty much no-one spoke English there, apart from the schoolchildren; and you could wonder through these tiny lanes and ramshackle white houses that reminded me of a Greek island, and have everyone smile and want to talk to you, instead of just seeing you as an open wallet. Delightful.

Unfortunately it had a slight downside. The owner of my hotel, hearing that I was planning on doing some trekking to nearby waterfalls and temples etc (although trekking is a strong word - there are great roads and well-signposted tracks) told me about his friend Ram, who was an English teacher at the local school, and was willing to act, free of charge, as a guide to foreigners because he wanted to improve his English further. After a brisk two hour hike to 'Bee Falls' (beautiful: http://www.iitk.ac.in/phy/New01/trip18.jpg ) I met this guy, and we set off on what I thought was somewhere in the town where I could book a horse-riding trip, but what turned out to be what the LP informs me was a 20km hike. Don't ask. This guy Ram, despite introducing himself as a poet (with the English penchant for mockery that is inbred in me, I find it very hard to take someone like that seriously - he even offered to recite to me), was clearly very sweet, very bright, and was incredibly 'eager' in that well-meaning, simplistic, optimistic way that would get you severely beaten up in any English school. He drove me crazy. I tried, I really did, and I was grateful for his generosity in showing me around, but I LIKE walking by myself, and having to listen to four hours of someone searching for the English words was as subconsciously irritating as spending the day with someone with a constant stammer. Anyway, he commenced in outlying a plan for the next four days that basically involved us spending every conceivable minute together, I tried to politely demur by saying that I might see him tomorrow, but I want to get some horse-riding in, etc etc. We part, I, after two hikes in one day, am knackered and have a nap. Am woken up twice by knocks on my door, but ignore them through my usual just-woken-up-sleep-haze. Go out to dinner, come back, there is Ram waiting for me, having been back to my hotel twice whilst I was asleep to see me. He has brought a Hindi-English dictionary and proceeds to write out various sentences in Hindi for me to learn for the morning. Fine, whatever. Next morning, I creep out of the hotel, trying to avoid the hotel owner, who seems to be Ram's accomplice, and set off on my own. Now, I gotta admit, I had an amazing day. I walked, walked from 8.30 in the morning until sunset, saw the most amazing mountain vistas devoid of any signs of human civilization, unbelievably beautiful waterfalls, cave temples etc etc etc. (And all perfectly safe, as there are people manning the entrance booths to the tracks who record all your details, don't worry Mum!) One of the best things about Pachmarhi is the coolness; because you are high in the mountains there just isn't the sweltering midday heat that has made it impossible to walk far everywhere else I have been in India. On the other hand, its blimmin cold at night, and cold showers in the morning are less than fun.

Anyway, I go to a restaurant, have dinner, come back to settle down for the night (the one thing that would make Pachmarhi better is a bar...) and there is Ram. He is very disappointed that I couldn't go walking with him today, there were things he was very excited to show me etc etc. He recites to me some love poetry of his own composition which is frankly awful. He is quite difficult to get rid of. We arrange the following morning to meet at 9.30 to hike Chauragarh, a holy mountain surmounted by temples, after which he wants to show me his 'favourite place' in Pachmarhi. I reluctantly agree. Next morning at 7am I find a letter pushed under my door, several selected passages of which look like this (sic): "I hope you understand my feelings, I really want to spend a night with you. I can't contrall myself because you are very prity & I have never seen before such any foreigner girl's like you" "I am still little shy, and one of thinks that shy people can't have girlfriend, therefore I never have any girlfriend. I am young & it's too difficult to live without sex" and so on and so on. He also tells me that he has only ever 'spent the night' with a girl once before.

Oh. My. God. Seriously guys, how do I get myself into these things? This isn't even the first time in India (I may not have recorded *everything* in this blog... I'm sure you understand...) Clearly I need to get into my head two things. 1) Indian boys do NOT understand platonic friendship. 2) When someone recites love poetry to you while desperately staring into your eyes, he's NOT just being weird and Indian. Sigh. Now I know, I know, I should have stayed and explained the situation to him and thanked him for his kindness in being my guide (wanted or not), but you know, I'm fed up of holding people's hands when they put me into this sort of situation. So, I jumped ship. Checked out and got on a bus at 9am, left Chauragauh unclimbed, and am now a ridiculous number of uncomfortable hours later in Bhopal, from whence I hope to catch a train to Agra tomorrow. Sorry Ram.



p.s. just wanted to say a quick thanks to everyone, known and unknown people alike, who have been leaving comments on this blog. It won't let me reply to the messages individually, but I really appreciate them! Keep it up :O)

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Part of trip: Backpacking around India and Nepal

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