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Published: January 27th 2007
06/12-15/12 Ooty to KolKatta
Two days before we leave India and we’re both starting to feel like time has slipped us by. There is so much more to see in this amazing country, yet we have come to the end of our stay. Well there’s nothing quite like a taste before one immerses themselves in full. We have had more than a taste, I think its more like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew, only this time it tastes so good we just want more and we will.
Colonial India was very much a land for those with privileges and Ooty, a hill station in India’s south west is that, a privilege for all of those who get the opportunity to visit. Originally a small town, a summer sanctuary, used as a get away to escape the scorching heat of the surrounding plains below. Now it is steeped in tea plantations, its undulating, rolling green hills a canvas of tea, creating the familiar patchwork patterns of these small green bushes. At about 2000m, Ooty is a small settlement dotted along a ridge of the Western Ghats, a mountain range, more like our Great Dividing Range or the
Blue mountains and nothing like the speed bumps that are the composition of our Perth hills, that separates the interior from the south western coast. It is the first time in India that we have experienced the high country and it has literally taken our breath away. The air is clean, the people are much friendlier than of the plains below, but this is still India and we my friends are still walking ATM’s, the only question on the locals’ lips is which flavour are they, dollar, pound or euro. We’re dollars, but not the preferred variety, oh well or in Hindi charti hai.
This is the land of densely wooded jungle, bamboo and also home to some of India’s premier national parks. Studded with tourist safari camps of course, the most famous being the Perriyar National park, which is a safe haven for the multitude of native animals including Elephants, wild buffalo, deer, the elusive tiger and hundreds of different bird species all of which live in Indian unison, knowing that each are nearby, yet keeping well to themselves. Much like the many different cultures that inhabit the lands around. Unfortunately this time we didn’t make it to
Perriyar, have done our research and will be heading to Kazaringar National park, the home of the Indian one horn rhino, in the far northeast state of Assam.
Our time in Ooty was limited to two days, the first compromising of some local familiarisation, motor bike included, the second, the most part of which included a rather lengthy 9 hour car trip into “god country” Kerala, more about that later. There’s only one real story that comes from Ooty, it’s really cold and the hotel staff can’t be trusted. As we have always done early in our travels, we have tried to book accommodation before we arrive, something about our fear of arriving in strange places late at night, with nowhere to stay. Very valid, but in India a very expensive blind decision. Firstly you have no idea about the accommodation, the quality, location or more importantly what it’s worth, secondly the hotel proprietors have a seventh sense, or tourist intuition, they know that we don’t and so they do. Charge us that is over quote and under deliver. Ooty goes something like this. The Lonely Planet, which we have found to be more of a commentary that guide
book, left us with the impression that it was possible to stay at a Maharaja’s summer hunting lodge, Fernhill Palace, complete with all the trimmings, those familiar with the Lonely Planet would also be familiar with their “boxed text- something special”, so we thought we’d splurge and spend a couple of nights in this charming yet sprawling typical imperial British establishment. The thought and intention were great, even the whole reservation process was painless and for the first time I thought we were getting an accommodation bargain in the sub continent. How wrong was I…. very.
Its was a very long, bumpy, dusty and extremely windy 36 hairpin bends leading up 2000m into the town of Ooty. The three hour local bus trip took 6. Not bad given the roads, the mode of transport, the condition of the bus we travelled in and finally the fact that this bus was “local” it made stops. Lots of them. We were so relieved to be finally leaving Mysore, a very educational worldly lesson, but one to remember and not hold. And very eager, so when our driver came to pick us up from Bombay tiffany’s sounds fancy, but was more kitsch
than pleasant, we jumped into the car, but not before the hotel tried to charge us another days rate because we had checked out at two, which we’d told them about the previous day, rather than twelve. They got nothing. This was starting out really well, an aircon private car just to take us to the bus, we were impressed, for the brief ride. When we got to the travel office we had to pay for the car, well didn’t have to, just didn’t know we had a choice. Stung again, charti hai, it’s Mysore. Then we saw the bus. Remember our first and last bus trip was luxury, Volvo AC, dvd, push back recliners, curtains clean, this thing had all the fruit, we even received a complimentary water upon embarking, flash. The tyres were brand new, our luggage went underneath all very normal to us, another one of those givens or our very naïve assumptions. Yeah sure we’d seen these dodgy old buses on the roads, crammed full of people, no glass in the window space, in desperate need of some serious panel work, every part was scratched or dented, a solid 10 day engine, gearbox and suspension treatment
coupled with its 1million km service and a good clean with a sand blaster to remove all the filth that has accumulated in the 30 years or so these buses have been in service. Or at home they would have been sent to scrap at least 20 years ago. Our second bus trip was much like the later. This was a mini coach, designed to seat maybe 14 comfortable, including luggage, we had more like 25 and every available spare space was used to transport something. The cargo bays below, I’m sure we’re carrying some sort of contraband; otherwise the border guard would not have been slipped a fifty. The roof racks were laden with what looked like sacks of potatoes, so much so that on more than 10 occasions I thought this thing was going to tip. That was just the fresh produce, on top of that there was everyone’s luggage, well the luggage that everyone couldn’t fit inside. All the aisles were full of sacks of something or small carry bags, people were squashed three across in two seats, the aisle, shared the remaining space with as many that could stand and finally there were about 6 people
crammed into the little room that was a two seat driver’s cabin. Come to think about it, we were the only two that had the right seats for the right number of people. You can just imagine what the back seat looked like. Then there was the physical condition the bus was in. From the exterior, it was like nothing I had ever seen. And if the working parts were anything like the exterior then, I am surprised that this was actually still registrable let alone called a vehicle fit for human traffic. We have retread tyres at home, most of us never use them, but know about them, over here, it appears as if there are only retreads, everything has them, our bus like most had retreads upon retreads, the later being totally bald on all four wheels, in some parts you could even see the retread of the tyre below the retread. To travel in this thing one would have to be mad, but it’s amazing the effect a lack of choice and timely itinerary can have on two a little bit “over it” Mysore travellers. We got on the bus.
This country is just so beautiful;
it takes you away, away from the illusions that are our world for the most part, away from our concerns over the road worthiness of our transport and away from the choking claustrophobia and at times unpleasantness of fellow passengers experienced on Indian road journeys. It takes you to a place where there is only what is around you. Travelling through this part of India is no less than spectacular, once we left Mysore and started to head into the high country, everything changes. The scenery changes, the people change, the roads don’t, some of the worst tracks to date, this was the first time we actually got to see some wild life in the wild. The road to Ooty takes you straight through the middle of a National Park. We saw our first elephant in the wild; our driver spotted it, pointed it out to us and then stopped the bus for everyone to have a look, so very thoughtful at times. We were in awe; kangaroos have got nothing on these amazing creatures. And in the wild, elephants just look so at home. For the rest of the passengers, this was like seeing a Kangaroo, again.
By
this stage it was getting dark and thankfully so, we had not yet reached the 36 hairpins and honestly, it was not something I would like to see in stark reality of daylight, given the condition of this particular bus whilst also considering that this is India and these are Indian roads. The road up the mountain, at home would be classified as strictly one lane only and in certain spots there would with out a doubt be a lollipop person controlling the flow of traffic, where the road would be just wide enough to allow for the safe passage of two vehicles wether they be a car or bus. We would also have lighting and iridescent signs which illuminate particularly dangerous or blind corners. There would be steel at the very least or for the most par solid concrete barriers protecting one from driving off a 1500m cliff, which would be placed on the outer edge of a well maintained bitumen road complete with a dirt emergency lane. Not here my friends, think world rally championship, through the mountainous roads of northern Spain and you have the road to Ooty. No barriers, no protection, no illuminated signs, no lights,
no safe smooth edges, only bitumen that progressively turns to rubble up to the point where you can hear the stones scream as you kick them off the edge as they free fall at least a km to the valley below. I am so glad it was dark.
We got there and it was freezing. We had just come from 30 something degrees to about what felt like 5-10 degrees. We were unsure as to where to disembark, as the bus being local and all just kept on stopping. Finally we were asked where we were going, as usual there was much chatter between the driver, the conductor and anyone else who had an opinion and we were told that the next stop was best for us. Sometimes you experience kindness in its truest form; here we have been so fortunate to be blessed with so many of these experiences. Smelling the fear and in trepidation a very kind local man, escorted us to a taxi and advised the driver of our destination and also negotiated our Rs 40 fare. Bless. Then we arrived, to find that Fernhill Palace was closed, how is this possible? I had rung, booked
and confirmed. Well Fernhill Palace comprises of two accommodation wings. One is the palace; the second is the guest quarter which is a separate building which as we found is more like tired old, would have been impressive in its day, English hunting lodge. You can imagine our disappointment. We were so looking forward to a long bath after such and arduous ride, I was now left wondering whether we would have hot running water. For what we were about to pay, this was no bargain. Some negotiation later and we managed to secure the following night at half the rate, with no alternative and a night manager insistent that he knew nothing, we agreed to stay. It was freezing, the rooms had fireplaces, but you had to buy the wood. It just gets better. You buy it in bundles and the first bundle is kindling, then you get a bundle of sticks until finally you get some larger logs, still wet and no where near enough to keep you warm for the entirety of the morning chill. Charti hai, what can you do, you pay, and we did again and again.
The food was western and excellent; we
both ate like royalty, even if we didn’t sleep like them. All in all it was a great two days, we saw so much, went on horse rides through local villages and managed to get ourselves into another state relatively painlessly although having said that we also got stung by another great Indian tourist trap. The one where you have to be somewhere, have booked a ride, have no alternative and the ride turns out to be something other than what you have agreed to and at the same price. We thought we had booked an Ambassador, an Indian semi luxury car, after the last bus ride we were a little dubious and even if we wanted to catch a train we were still up for a local bus ride down the other side of the 2000m 36 hairpin ridge, the Ambassador turned out to be an Indica, we were going to go camry, now we’re travelling 7 hours in Hyundai Getz. It was a painful trip, the driver was mad, he was doing a 16hour round trip all for less than $5 which was his share of the $60 fare we paid. We got to Ernakulum safely; this was
our transit stop, before embarking on a train journey down to Varkala, a small Kerelan town some 3 hours down the western coast, renowned for its red stone cliffs that fall sharply into the waters below.
Kerala is the home of the backwaters and Allepuhza is the home of the backwater experience. These palm fringed, tranquil waterways are small inland rivers which interconnect them many small villages that make up this part of the coast. Local fishermen have been using these waterways for centuries and it is only recently, last 7 -10 years, that this particular area has become a tourist destination. Local fishing boats have undertaken western transformations to become luxury floating suites on water and for those who have the inclination; you can float through these waterways for days, complete with rarely seen captain and cook. All very pleasant, very commercial and very expensive even in India, I’m sure it would be a magical experience but at close to $400 per night and with so much to see and with time moving on, we decided that this time we’d pass. I’d rather see Charlie in London if you know what I mean.
Varkala was exactly what
was needed after Mysore and the road journeys of late. Some quiet time by the beach again, nothing to do except rest up, explore and enjoy. It’s here that we found the Enfield that I’d love to own. A black 500cc bike with enough motor to manoeuvre the both of us past anything. This machine was freedom on wheels and would be perfect transport for our excursion along this tranquil palm fringed Keralan coast. The next day we were up and cruising along the coast headed for Allepuhza, riding through small villages until they become increasingly larger, you finally ride into a major hub or town, so much more activity, so many more horns and so much more traffic and of course pollution. Same everywhere, streets are littered with rubbish, fires burning and sanitation limited. Yep we’re in India. But the coast is truly beautiful, and Allepuhza, if it hadn’t of been for the bout of bird flu which killed some 135 people only two months ago would have had a totally different feel. We only found this out after we had retuned to Varkala and some 4 hours after I had ordered and eaten the chicken curry. A bit
scary, very real and my fears were unfounded. I’m still alive. Mel was on to it with out even knowing, that, or she was still wary of chicken after Mumbai, you see she had veg that day. And I had a stomach full of concern.
Some well deserved rest along the beach, a magical couple of sunsets, some more great food and a 5 am five hour journey later, this time in an ambassador and we finally reached Thrivandrapurm, a city way down the southern tip of the subcontinent, our transit point for our flight to KolKatta. But not before flying into Chennai, which we both just didn’t like, maybe it was because we were delayed for more than 8 hours holed up in Chennai airport, in the heat and with no Internet, before we could finally embark on our flight to KolKatta. Thanks Spice Jet. Cheap but all our Spice Jet flights to date have been reliably delayed. We made it to KolKatta at around 1.30 am, 2am by the time we had reached the hotel, another book in advance, I can’t believe we are actually going to sleep in this mould infested, damp, rank room in this
old decrepit building which is called a hotel for that much money. It was the shortest 6hr sleep we’ve had. Sleep n go, luck was on our side, across the road, for the same price, was a well maintained clean, bright hotel with a room available. We were gone, paid up and moved within 20mins. A record for us.
We’re flying to London tomorrow, it’s just a little melancholy around us at the moment, we’ve seen so much and there is so much more to see. With all its woes it wows in the same breath. India is alive and we are alive in it. I would wish for you all to at one moment in your lives experience just a part of this magic.
Enjoy the pics, we still have another 6 weeks of Indian adventures to share, at this rate this journal will be going well into 2008 and I trust that you will still enjoy our tales.
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parry
non-member comment
too long
hey u 2. it's been 77 days since ure last entry so much has happened down under, i'm sure u both have been up to heaps. so don't keep me waiting for much longer. how was hed kandi? love parry. all the jinbang send their love too.