Advertisement
India is the moodiest chickita I have ever come to meet. While she is beautiful, full of life and laughter and endless wonder, she is also grumpy, frustrating and can basically (good and bad) boil up the most emotion felt in years! When our plane landed safely in Mumbai I didn't fully grasp the intensity of the words of a man spoke to his family from the row in front of us, arriving back to his native land. He said: Home sweet home. It certainly is like no where else in the world and thus begins our full and true adventure.
Arriving in Mumbai, late in the evening, we flew through the highway, weaving between old fashion taxi cars with paper thin doors towards Colaba, a very touristy part of the city that inhabits The Taj, The Gateway of India, and the famous Leopold's Bar (where the terrorist attacks happened no long ago). Our first mission of the city was to set out for souvenirs, and without revealing the details of my second package travelling across the ocean, we set out into the turmoil that is India. We didn't get far without being overwhelmed. Street vendors yelling "Hello!! Madame!!!! Look
at my store!!!!" at the top of their lungs. We wanted to hit up several markets and got lost in a tizzy of silks, spices, fruits, clothing, jewellery, food vendors, leather goods, chai stations, cows, garbage lining the streets, taxi cabs attacking your trails when crossing the street.....we had to find a calm in the storm! We ducked for cover in a less chaotic building at the Crawford Market and were approached by an old man with one arm. He showed us a badge and said he was 'an official government guide' - after experiencing many 'tag-a-longs' that offer 'help' but really demand money for their 'good deeds' we were sceptical of his leechingness. We kindly told him we didn't need help but he lingered still. He said his name was "Papa" and didn't want money and wanted to help us find what we needed. We shrugged and went with the flow and were quickly swept up in a divine tour of the cities best shops, with the best prices and we made excellent time. Papa negotiated taxi prices and we finished the day with smiles and arms full of items. We gave Papa some money for his efforts and
set out for day 2 to complete the shopping, but this time.....Papa-less. After an hour, we realized we needed Papa....but in a city of 16.5 million people in Mumbai where were we going to find this man. "Impossible" I said rolling my eyes when Alex suggested we go back to the Market to find him. "The chances of seeing Papa again are like being struck by lightning!" I said, she replied optimistically, "Lets try." We walked and immediately got bombarded by pseudo-Papas. At just the same moment we realized there was no use, we were on our own, one of the pseudo-Papas said, "look, your friend." The crowds of people parted along the walkway closer to the towering stalls of colourful fruits and vegetables, and there, almost Jesus like dressed in a full traditional Indian attire, looking dapper and radiant stood Papa. "Papa!!!!!!!!!!!!!" we shrieked and ran to his comforting arm (I know, I am going to hell). The rest is history in parcel number 2.
We stayed in Mumabi for a good 4 days and headed to the wonderful beaches of Goa, staying mostly at Anjuna beach. Since the Monsoon is creeping up, 80% of the accommodations and
Peeps from Goa
Yan, far left (top) shops were closed, which gave us a much needed rest....or so we thought. Alcohol is actually hard to find in India - but not in Goa. We met a few crazy peeps here and had a blast, one to note of a particular breed of crazy was Yan, the German/English guy who wore 6 braids that seemed to grow out from his head like Medusa, a tie die shirt wherever he went and a set of piercing, crystal blue eyes that have not had a sober day in a long time. He, however, didn't take part in any drinking for this explained reason: "You know, I don't drink, you know, because I drink and then I can kill a man - want some LSD?" Followed but odd and histarical laughter. He is a character to write a book about.
After Goa, we took a bus to Hampi to see some temples, and the most unbelievable landscape we have ever seen. The landscape looked like something out of The Road Runner cartoon. Boulders. Tons. Everywhere. Some small. Some big. Some big on small. The scenery looked like it couldn't make sense, if that makes sense? Like God (him/her)self took huge,
round pieces of rock and balanced it on smaller rocks, threw in some rivers and cactus in between for decoration. 43 degree weather no longer felt like heat, but more like eternal sweat. But despite the heat, power only a few hours a day, no beer and early monsoon winds/rain that would make you piss your pants as you ran your ass though streets lit only by the constant lightning strikes over your head, it was an awesome time with some really amazing people.
Why are some of the best stories ones of chaos and bad times. In truth, India is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. Even when you hate India with all your might, it only takes a Chai and a good night sleep to awake with new eyes that can hardly take in the beauty it sees in front of them, like its the first time. India is incredible. We are now in Kerla, where tomorrow we will celebrate Alex's bday with a Backwater river cruise and we found a back alley bar in Fort Kochi that sells beers. Yeah guy! Or as our English friends would say, "Giz beer."
We complete India Part 1: The South in one week. Stay tuned for more adventures to come.
Canadian/Indian Phrases/Gestures/Dictionary:
1. "Hi there, how can I help you?"= Hello!!!! Madame!!! Hello!! Hello!!! Madame!!!!
2. "I don't know." This phrase does not exist in any Indian language. Instead of an Indian admitting that they don't know the answer to your query they will direct you in 6 different places, likely all of them wrong.
3. Head wobble (for those of you who have not experienced this it is a slight sway from left to right; it's not quite our version of the yes or a no gesture, which let me tell you gets highly confusing when they use after a question) = anything from yes, no, maybe, I don't know, you are pretty, who knows.....even Indians don't know what the meaning of it is sometimes. Conversations with head wobbling are highly entertaining and incredibly frustrating.
4. Chai = sweet milky tea (highly addictive!)
5. Ali Baba Pants = Baggy, brightly patterned pants full of material and gathered at the ankles or knee - an Indian staple.
6. Indian Buses = Death on wheels
7. Indian Trains = Wicked. (If you are 6 foot tall and sleeping in an upper bunk, however, make sure you don't kick any of the food venders that walk the isles on the top of the head. If even by complete accident, they don't like it).
8. The word "organization," also does not exist in the Indian language. If it were in the dictionary it should be translated to "utter and complete chaos". Whatever system they have, whether you are sending a package, buying a ticket, getting off the train is about as far from the definition of organized as one could possibly be. If "organized" was the North Pole, India would be Antarctica. Actually the closest to "organized" would be Papa himself, and I would push to have his picture placed in the dictionary. Oh Papa......mi amour.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.029s; Tpl: 0.01s; cc: 10; qc: 25; dbt: 0.0118s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1mb