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Published: February 19th 2010
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India Gate
Mumbai trough the smog Our trip to Mumbai was relatively uneventuful.. We had expected the worst and the worst didn't happen - was our luck changing? We were met as arranged at the airport by our taxi who took us to the hotel which was quite pleasant. The next morning we had breakfast and watched the end of the Mumbai Marathon, the streets had been closed off and Mumbai seemed a peaceful and calm place. Monday morning and it couldn't be further from the truth, the noise and bustle we had expected arrived very early (we still had jet lag and were looking for breakfast at 6 am). We set off for the train station which was a magnificent amalgam of Kings Cross and the Houses of Parliament; the British might have ransacked the country but we did leave some nice buildings. We had again assumed the worst and expected to queue for 3 hours to get a ticket which would turn out to be a ticket to allow us to join another queue. Instead we followed the sign up a steep flight of stairs to the tourist quota desk where, strangely, was also the site of the disabled quota desk. A simple form and
we had tickets for the following day to Goa. It all made our system in the UK seem complete chaos. Mumbai itself was less high tech than we expected, no gleaming shopping malls, just old crumbling colonial buildings occupied by banks and the run down shops in the back streets with swathes of people living eating and working on the streets. However, by the India Gate was a tranquil harbour spoilt only by the noise of a luxury motor yacht (the nouveaux riche never have any taste).
The train took all day but we arrived in the early evening in our destination, Benaulim, without incident. The sun shone all day and the people were all friendly (except for the Derek lookalike, homophobic frenchman in the next room). The food was fab and were feeling healthy if still a little jet lagged. It is amazing what a vegetarian and teetotal diet can do for you. A stroll along the beach in the early hours and the fishing boats were being hauled on shore. Caught up in the nets were crabs and a little more ominously sea snakes which struggled to get back into the sea. We watched and helped one
Wash Day
Wash day on Hampi River (with the aid of a very long stick) on it's way only for it to be picked up at the last minute by a passing fisherman and flung out into the depths.
We hired a bike for two days and visited Palolem (reccommended by Lonely Planet), which turned out to be a rather pretty beach, spoilt by thousands of lonely planet carrying hippies and partygoers. The following day we headed inland to Old Goa and it's multitude of impressive churches, in one, lay St Xavier or what was left of him after souvenir hunters and his own followers had taken bits of him for their mantelpieces. A short 10km away was the regions capital and the promise of good food in a posh hotel. 35km later we finally found it after a tyical R&J detour. The thali we had was superb and at £2.50 each a bit of an expensive treat.
After a night out in Margao we headed into the next state Kanataka over the Western Ghats and passed some impressive waterfalls and mountainous scenery. Our destination was Hampi. Not sure what to expect but on arrival at the nearby town of Hospet the taxi drivers assured
Cows Week
Hampi Streets us that there was a festival and without there help we wouldn't make it (these guys have obviously been taking lessons from the Thais). We boarded the Hampi bus to the shouts of one “there are no buses”. Well it was festival time and no rooms to be had so we found an expensive toilet we were allowed to sleep in. Hampi is the historical site of the Vijayanagar Empire which was at it's peak some 500 years ago. This is a truly amazing place and we are in awe. Temples are everywhere and the setting of giant boulders with a river valley below is absolutely magestic. However as sites go the local tourists (in their thousands) seemed to find me and John a far more interesting attraction. Our photos regularly being requersted by groups of young men. One group tried desperately to understand how how we could do without wives; this wasn't going to be the last time we were quizzed. Our only explanation was that life was much simpler without them. It seemed strange that we were unable to tell people we were a couple even though men walk hand in hand with each other here and wouldn't
be seen dead touching a woman. The only thing more curious than the locals were the monkeys that live on the hill just outside the village. Ray is lucky to still have his toes but his shoes fared worst and had to be repaired by the local sandal maker.
We were headed for Hyderabad and so holed up for a few days in Hospet whilst we waited for our train. The main town just 10km from Hampi has little to offer tourists and a search for something other than dhal and rice proved impossible. However we did manage to get our first and only beer in India in the Purple Grass (an upmarket Multi Cuisine restaurant) the beer was good but the food was not....
India had finally hit John with a vengeance. He was no longer in control of his vital functions and as we write he is lying in bed feeling miserable. It appears his occassional explosions are mirroring the political tensions. We needed to call a high level meeting and come up with some radical proposals to alleviate the ongoing tensions. We decided to leave India.
So my friends this was going to be
Bog eyed
Not a self portrait the first of a number of blogs on India but instead it will be the last as we should be shortly in Thailand where we can be ourselves again.
It is sad to be leaving so early but it has also been an interesting month. India has been a complete mixture. We expected gleaming shopping malls but instead found all the dilapidated glory of eons of culture. We found charming people and tuk tuk drivers. Children who only wanted to know your name and others who only collected pound coins. It has adverts on the telly extolling it's people not to spit red gunk out at tourists and not to steal money from them but no mention of the tourists wearing fishermans pants and not washing for the whole time they are on holiday or getting so wasted they think Abba sang “don't cry for me Argentina” - and an Australian at that too. Even Hyderabad a city which was advertised as Cyberabad with internet cafes on every corner as it's wealth is based on a booming IT industry (I recall my old company was trying to get some software written here). Instead we found, after a few hours,
St Pauls Cathedral
Relocated from Surrey to Kolkata one internet shop which took 4 hours to load one e-mail. Our departure from Hyderbad did give us a glimpse of how the other half live as we enterred the gleaming new Airport with coffee shops and UK prices to match. This was such a contrast to the real world outside. Next stop Calcutta for a day - again a real contrast with pavements and restaurants and stuff. Oh well only one day. Hope you enjoy the pics as our next blog will be from Thailand or KL if we don't get the visa.
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Damian
non-member comment
I always thought Derek looked a bit French.