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Published: April 5th 2006
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Best thing about Bangalore
A plastic monkey that looks like it's humping a rubbish bin. (Note the 'Use Me' written on bin.) Arrived in Bangalore from Hampi at about 7 in the morning, desperate to get back to civilisation and a big city. Meaning that it was a real shame that I arrived in Bangalore. It would probably be a nice place to live, actually - clean, fairly modern, lots of shops. As a place to visit, though, it's pretty underwhelming. Bland. No personality whatsoever. And notably less smiley than most other places I've visited in India.
That said, the Lalbagh Gardens were very nice - big municipal gardens with thousands of different plants from all over the world. And the tiffin house just down from my hotel did the best dosas I've had since arriving in India - absolutely spectacularly good. And, for that matter, the best grape juice I've had in India.
Actually, as an aside, grape juice is one thing that no one told me to try when I went to India. And that was a grave mistake. "You have to get an Indian train...", "You must try proper Indian Birianis...", "You have to go to Hampi... (Pah!)"... all these things I had to do, and no one told me that I had to try grape juice. Indian grape juice is about the best juice in the world. I'm sure the grapes have something to do with it, but it's the fact that they just crush them up and stick them in a glass that makes it so delicious. The texture is amazing. Sort of foamy on top, then a slightly pulpy layer, then a more liquid layer. And as it's always served with a straw, you can sample the different layers as the mood takes you. So, I'm going to put this on record. Forget Hampi. If any of you ever go to India, the one thing you have to do is try the grape juice.
Sorry. Back to Bangalore. So, good shops, probably pretty good food, for that matter, apparently some decent bars. But so bland I may as well have fallen asleep on the train and woken up in Milton Keynes. Except for one thing. The autorickshaw drivers. The biggest bunch of crooks I've come across so far. Absolute twats, the lot of them.
On my first day, I was grabbed by one who offered to show me a few sights, and then commercial street - the shopping hub - for a fairly minimal amount. To be honest, I was a bit lost, and didn't have any other plans, so for 5 rupees seemed like a decent deal. The only catch was that he wanted me to look at a shop first. I know that he'd be getting commission, but I needed to get Fi a birthday present anyway, so thought I may as well go along with it.
As it turns out, the place had some really nice stuff, and I did make a purchase for Fi. And, of course, he was delighted when he heard that I'd actually bought something.
Then he wanted to show me another shop. I had to see it, because if I went in there - I didn't have to buy anything - he'd get a free tshirt. I was tired, thirsty and really couldn't be arsed. But I was also totally clueless as to where I was, so was pretty much reliant on him to show me where to go. So I agreed to just look in the shop. Which I did. And it was full of crap. Hugely overpriced crap at that. Usual hard sell from the shop owner, but I just walked out.
So, Commercial Street then. No. Another shop. At which point I put my foot down. No way. "But just one more shop... you no have to buy anything... means my little girl will get a school bag... you have to go...". Etc. I lost my rag and got out, even though I had no idea where I was. Obviously worried that he'd lose his fare, he relented.
Finally en route to where I actually wanted to go, the cheeky f-er suggested that I pay him for the journey with an English pound coin. "Because my baby, she'd love that." I bet she would. But I wouldn't be so keen. A frustrating, hot cab journey that was meant to cost 5 rp... and I pay a quid? Are tourists really so stupid that they'll pay 15 times the agreed fare, just because it's in sterling instead of rupees?
Anyway. That was that.
Until the next rickshaw driver pulled up. "Hey, I take you to see sights, only 5 rupees."
No thanks.
And then the next one.
And then the next.
On the Sunday, I grabbed a rickshaw driver to get me up to the main street, for breakfast and a coffee. Guess what? All the shops are shut. Nothing open till 11.30. But he could take me on a sightseeing tour... I asked about shops. "Just one or two". Not even worth replying. I marched off and got myself a dosa instead.
And then later on, I got in a rickshaw to go the the museum. Thought he was taking me a slightly longer route. Turns out that's because... guess what? He was going to take me to see some sights... and then....
"Shops?" I asked.
"Just one or two."
It's not big and it's not clever, but I did enjoy telling him to eff right off and then jumping out of the rickshaw. Even if I was further away from the museum than when I started.
Not as much as I enjoyed my chat with another rickshaw driver who pulled up to offer me a sightseeing tour for just ten rupees. Very cheap, I told him. But I'm looking for some presents for people. You wouldn't know whether there are any shops that sell handicrafts, would you?
He had the look of someone who's woken up on Christmas Day when he thought it was only going to be a dull November day. I hope he was suitably disappointed when I laughed and walked off.
So. Bangalore. Bland. Except for the cab drivers. Who are, almost without exception, twats.
As an aside, I think it's pretty obvious that Bangalore was where my homesickness reached a peak. Had been brewing for a bit - it just gets really tiring to always have to be on your guard, to watch what you eat, to not be able to drink out of a tap or have ice in your drinks, to not be able to have a good salad, or to spend a few hours playing Xbox. And even the good things - the way that people are so friendly, and will just introduce themselves for a chat, simply because you're white and a rarity - can pale a little. Happened three times walking round Lalbagh Gardens. It's really nice, but there's only so many times you can deal with the "Where are you from? What's your name? Do you have a wife?" conversation.
Anyway, homesickness reached its peak and I, literally, fed it. Lunch on Sunday? Pizza. Sunday afternoon? Had a few pints of exceptionally cold lager in an English-style bar. Sunday dinner? A subway sandwich. Eaten in my hotel room. Watching West Ham draw with Charlton.
Best thing possible. Eating bad pizza, bad sandwiches and watching bad football - reminds you that being at home isn't all that great, really. That, along with leaving Bangalore Keynes, cleared up the homesickness in a shot. Helped by the next stop, Kolkata (Calcutta, in the old days), which has turned out to be the most amazing city I've seen yet.
(Had to add that bit in case people are reading this and thinking that I hate India now. Hampi was underwhelming, Bangalore just rubbish, but Kolkata has been one of the highlights of the trip. Watch this space for details.)
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Chris M
non-member comment
Traveller
You do realise you've pretty much just recited the traveller litany of 'things wrong with India'. Too old to be a traveller? Ahem.