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Published: April 9th 2011
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Poverty
Life Goes on around the poor Remember when I said my train to Delhi was notorious for being late? Well, it didn't let itself down. It made my twelve hour trip into a seventeen hour mission. How can a night train be this late?! Thankfully, I had given myself an extra day before my flight to Hyderabad. I must be learning!
Getting to Hyderabad was simple enough on the elegant sounding (not) local airline "SpiceJet". It was a different case when collecting my rucksack. I waited by the baggage carousel for a good forty-five minutes. My brightly orange covered bag was nowhere to be seen. Being close to slowly soiling myself, I checked the board again. I discovered that two flights from Delhi had arrived at the same time and I had been standing next to the other flight's carousel the whole time. What a blithering idiot! I retract my comment at the end of the last paragraph.
Looking forward to home comforts by staying with my friend, Urooj, it came to light I wasn't going to stay at his house whatsoever. His house was having rejuvenation works carried out and I was stay in a hotel. Oh well, at least he bargained a nice
The Main Road in Old City
This epitomizes the crazy roads hotel for a dirt-cheap price. I couldn't complain either. He explained to me that for the whole time I was in Hyderabad I didn't have to pay for a thing apart from the hotel room. This included transport, food, tourist site entry and internet cafe expenses. This man was a great host.
Firstly, the transport. This was a unlicensed mo-ped, that Urooj owned, who was also an unlicensed rider/driver. If that wasn't crazy enough, the traffic in Hyderabad was not close to being calm. As per norm in India: no indicating, lanes ignored, slow vehicles such as rickshaws on main roads, locals walking in front of speeding traffic , driving down the wrong side of the road and constant horn blowing. Urooj, was also a gung-ho rider. He took on trucks and buses as if he was made of steel. My first ride on the back was terrifying. Especially when he started talking on his mobile phone while navigating through the chaos. To give him credit, I wasn't hurt once.
To be honest, I hadn't been the most extravagant when it came to eating, in India. I always played it pretty safe and went for things I had
Charminar
The centre-piece of the Old City only heard of. I let Urooj do the picking and I was not let down. All the restaurants were top notch local joints where everything was delicious. Hyderabadis do not mind a bit a heat in their food either. Some thing blew my head off made for unpleasant toilet banter in the morning too. I would never have been able to find these places if I wasn't shown them.
Hyderabad is a lovely place. It has the biggest population of muslims in India and it was noticeable of the change. Wide avenues, polite locals, prayer callings, underground sewage systems and beautiful architecture made this a thoroughly pleasant place to be. Even though the roads were hectic, these people live in a very laid back and relaxed fashion. A surprising amount of tourists were here but we were not hassled at all.
During my stay, the Indians played against Pakistan in the Semi-Finals in the World Cup Cricket. Surprisingly, there are virtually no communal viewing screens to watch the games. On the way back to my hotel after dinner, I rode past groups of people cramped around tiny televisions at shop fronts. The streets were dead. Everyone was watching.
When India won the tense game, the city exploded into life again. Fire crackers, horns blaring, loud music, screaming and just complete pandemonium greeted me when I walked outside my hotel. If this is what it was like for the semi-final, what is it going to be like for the final? Due to this, I wanted to be in Mumbai for the final to soak up to atmosphere. To my dismay I could only get a bus that was due to take fourteen hours, after I had already vowed not to take anymore buses. The sacrifices one must take for the sake of fun.
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tim
non-member comment
Thought I saw you on TV
Then realised I'd awoken to a Kung Fu movie and not the Qualifying for the Grand Prix. Spooky.