Agra and the Taj June 30, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentThe only issue of our 26 hour delay was the fact that we had 2 days in Agra to see the town. Although we this was the only place that we were going to to only see a tourist sight 2 days would have been good.
We landed at 12:30pm and had our train out to Varanasi the same night at 9:30pm. This makes me nervous know that we know the general rule to add 30% extra time to anything that should take x time then we have little time to see the Taj or anything else. The good news was that we no longer needed to stay in Agra and pay Rs700 (11 pounds) for the pleasure to stay in tourist town. The better news was that the hotel had already arranged a pick up for us, which we used to get to Agra city train station in order to secure confirmed bunks on the next train, which we had to do as priority. The rickshaw driver was used to tourists and had a book of recommendations and was really useful (makes a change) in figuring our plan of attack. Although he was hunting for us to pay for a full day tour we used all the needed information, declined and went to the booking office. A dedicated tourist booth, which was empty due to low season was really useful and made things quick- a novel benefit associated with a tourist town for sure.
Michael L. Kaufman at the English language Wikipedia
The two sights in Agra are The Fort (above), which was where Shah Jahan, the man who began building the Taj Mahal was imprisoned by his son Aurangzeb, who later transferred the capital of India to Aurangabad and continued building Daulatabad (interesting considering we had just seen Daulatabad a week or so previously). The next needs no introduction and the clear winner, the Taj.
After some extortionate offers for a rickshaw ride (knowing the distance) we decided to walk towards it until a reasonable offer turned up. We walked along the grounds of “The Red Fort”, took so good photos. We realised that you could buy a combo ticket for both and were tempted, but getting to the ticket office we decided to focus on one, took a photos of the commanding battlements (See above photo, which is pretty much the same shot) and main fortification and I was happy enough to give it a miss.
Further down the road we saw a horse drawn cart, which was quoted at Rs40 (60p) to the Taj, same as a crappy auto-rickshaw. What a way to arrive! Done! So despite the horses looking a bit ‘broken in’ let’s say we were whisked down the road on a flimsy cart and Laura ‘drove’.
The Taj is Rs50 for Indian people and Rs750 for foreigners, something that hurts as the visitor, but something I applaud in terms of policy and something I think the UK need to adopt. Proving access to your history as priority, while charging visitors more (or at least some) for the maintenance of the sight is a must. Anyway, we coughed it up and walked through the first arch that frames the main Taj structure perfectly. Again, we are not aiming to see the typical sights on the trip and want to avoid sightseeing tourists, but this is a must. Truly spectacular and amazing to compare it to the “poor man’s Taj” in Aurangabad. The marble keeps it’s colour, maintained it’s sharp edges through resisting erosion and sparkled. Certainly a romantic structure that deserves it’s wonder of the world status. We managed to usher people out of the way of the classic picture view so we could get the classic picture and were pretty much awe struck the whole time.
With our tourist kit as part of the Rs750 package, we were given water (needed) and shoe covers, so we didn’t need to walk barefooted on the boiling marble like the poor locals who didn’t cough up. The building is perhaps unsurprisingly the most well kept thing I have seen in India and the semi-precious stone inlays in the marble are still flush and crystal clear today. In the burial chamber the infamous marble screen is truly incredible. How you can carve decorative voids into panels of marble an inch thick is beyond me, let alone with the technology available in the 1650’s. We managed to capture an illicit photo, purely because all the Indian tourists were using flash everywhere and the armed guards were paying zero attention.
We wandered around the other Muslim structures on site and sat in the garden looking at the Taj for a few hours before deciding to find a rooftop terrace overlooking the Taj for dinner before heading to the station. Surprisingly we were relatively undisturbed by the usual “let’s have our picture taken of a westerner so we can tell them how many foreign friends we have” (seriously this fact has been verified by numerous people now). A few were taken of Laura when I was taking a shot, but my new line of “That will be Rs100 please, my wife is a model and gets payed a lot for having her picture taken” ensured pictures are deleted in front of me quickly.
We found the ideal place and apart from a few tables of Lonely Planeters (a word I have just invented to describe people wandering around clutching the book for dear life) we had 4 hours watching the sun set over the Taj with a beer and now typical Indian curry (Dal fry, rice, 1 tandoor roti each and a share dish of veg, this time muttar paneer- peas and unpasturised cheese).
We headed back after our lazy afternoon of staring at the Taj and decided to catch a cycle rickshaw to the station. 4 modes of transport in one day is not bad. Now to pick up our nights supply of water and snacks for the next journey to make a total journey time of 23 hours in 3 days.
Working North via Jalgaon June 28, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentThis is a grubby little town, similar to Aurangabad. It is dusty hot, essentially “Arid” all over. That is fine though as we only have one night here before continuing our journey up to Agra.
Despite the general grime of the town, due to its position on the railway line it has become a hub market town and is on the silk route north. There are tailors abound and actually on organised ’shopping street’ that is in marked contrast to the rest of the place. Suits, shirts and Salwar Kameez’s (ladies trouser and long dress and scalf combo) were the order of the day, but we only perused the Salwar’s for Laura, as I am only trying to reduce what I am carrying and not gain more stuff, that tends to accumulate over time by default. My 4 items of clothing are also holding firm and my washing routine including Rs1 washing powder sachet can wash 3 items with no problem and is just enough to keep me fresh!
After walking along and spying some material that would suit Laura over the street, through my broken Hindi, sign language and persistence pointed us towards a market where we could turn the it into a Salwaar. Using the vague directions we found a man with a sewing machine, who quoted us double to what we were told, but as we had 5 hours left in the place figured that was fine as long as he produced it in time.
As a small town the people here stare at you a lot more, especially Laura and don’t feel at all bad at stopping in the street to just gawk at you. So it was not a surprise that there was a gathering of heads facing us and watching us and the situation unfold. We thought nothing of it. That was until we came to do the measurements and failed to consider the social complexities we were dealing with. A lady needs a lady tailor on the street, because of the need of touching the lady. As a result we were being pointed to a ladies tailor further down into the market, but due to the Indian people’s permanent “yes of course as long as you are giving me money attitude” mentioned nothing of it. People all around found this very amusing indeed.
The Hotel Plaza was the only real saving grace of the place for us, as the staff were interesting to talk to and very helpful indeed, which we are finding to be very rare traits of Indian people without an anterior motive. This was a Lonely Planet recommendation due to its cleanliness, but we are finding more and more that we don’t agree with most of the opinions given and so are using it less and less as a decision making tool of any kind- a good thing. The drawback we felt of the place was that it only let Westerners stay there and so as a “Our Pick” have concluded that the Lonely Planet is keen to keep everyone well within the ‘path well trodden’ and that we try to avoid.
The protectionist nature of Hotel Plaza was somewhat justified however, as reading on the steps of the hotel you would attract a group of people who would just stand and stare at you. Apparently this is because most of the people walking by have just come from the train station and are country people who rarely see Westerners. Either way it is a pain having your reading and Chai efforts continually interrupted by people asking the same boring, generic questions;
“Hello, where you from?”
“Ah England”
“What your name?”
“and Madam?”
“Ok”
“My name x……”
Then queue a silence and the guy (always, as women will never approach and talk they just look at you like you are wearing pants on your head with war paint on or something else massively inappropriate) will then just stand and look at us or ask some random question like;
“What Hotel Management like in UK?” (sic to this and everything above in speech brackets!)
As a commuter town it is a strange situation to be looking out and seeing a constant stream of people walking by in uniform spacing. I counted 27 people per 20 seconds, which usefully I thought meant that to see the whole 1.09 billion people in India at this rate would take 25.58574 years. Hmmmn, anyway, you do have time to think about this kind of core issue when traveling and give yourself space!
After a while you start to get used to the gormless comments and ignoring people is now a lot easier, although I’d rather say after the introductory comments “I’m sorry gumby you faded out there… what was that you fancy my girlfriend do ya- well gutted. Bye!”
So next day I asked the Hotel Manager.
“I have a question for you… why do the Indian people stare at us so much?”, I inquire.
“Well… let me tell you something and what I think and I’ll be frank. They look at Madam. Now, I know you people. I have been here 20 years and know white skin and how you are. But these people have not, they only know this area. In your culture you have lots of freedoms; sex before marriage, but here sex only after marriage and young people are very frustrated. Some people are only married at 28 or more, so from 16 – 28 they are frustrated.
If a lady is standing outside the front here smoking then I advise her to come inside, otherwise people will stop and stare. These people, especially the uneducated think the girl is a hippy and easy if she smokes. There was a problem in the 70’s when all the hippies came to India. They smoked drugs, sunbathed and walked around naked. So people now often think white people are all hippies- free and easy, so they might have a chance (with a lady). The trouble is the more they stare the more their mind is working and this can lead to trouble. People in India are good people, they care about their local community, most people are scared about what people think of them. If madam was to start to shout, people would go away quickly, as they care about what their community think.”
“Ok, so how can I tell people in Hindi to have respect?”
“Tamiez Rakier” (Phonetic spelling only!)
So the next day glad to be leaving we arrived at the station, but no train on screen. Laura panics.. is this the right station, have we missed it, is this the right date etc…. Turns out the train is 16hrs late! Damn, ok back to Plaza, who still had our room in the same condition. Right…. we deserve a beer!
Recommended the Bombay Hotel halfway down the 2 minute walk between the hotel and station we enter. Men… everywhere. Hmmmn that generally means a bar in the traditional sense of a male only drinking hole, oh well it was Laura’s idea (as I still had a recovering stomach), we are up for it anyway, let’s go… We were ushered into the back room. One loud man with a table of 3 quiet goons insisted on ‘making friends’ and especially picked up on Laura’s order of a large beer, the same as mine. “You know… this is bad, no no, women should not drink” the man directs at me. Again it is clear this is going to be a difference of woman’s place in society and this also means that the women are not spoken to but the men have ‘issues’ directed at them.
After forcibly discussing some of the merits of the difference in culture, India’s beauty and the usual topics of our status in society I was told, “Hey, have some of this (whiskey) in your beer, it is really good”. Well, obviously I am not stupid enough to think this was done, but after 5 minutes of continual harassment I give in and think go on then I’ve had worse and if it feeds your small ego then great. After a half shot is added and I drink it laughter erupts and the whole place thinks this is hilarious.
“Good?” the man asks sarcastically.
“Fine” I retort “is that what your are drinking?”
“No I don’t drink that”
“You should try it, it is really good. Here have some beer in your whiskey and lemonade”.
“No” the guy insists in the same manner as I was in 10 minutes ago.
“Go on…”, I say pouring it in anyway.
Unhappy about the turn in the situation and the establishment’s eyes fixed on what is happening. So the guy tries it and winces, everyone laughs and settles down.
“Have a bottle of rum with me”, the man says next. Oh bloody hell my acceptance and diffusion didn’t really work, but in retrospect it was unlikely to, but with a love of situational experimentation it was worth a go. I am not up for a bottle of rum really due to my stomach, but can always have a few rum and coke’s and the 180ml bottles are not heavy duty. The guy is slurring from one, so let’s match him and see how things pan out…
“Ok, if you are buying”, I say
“OF COURSE!”, he replies
Using the guys directions on how I should pour a rum and coke (I usually have it two thirds coke and a third rum, if not half half, so the measures I am given are fine with me.
“Strong?”, he asks
“Sure”, I reply
He is finally happy about getting the English guy drunk, but when in reality I could drink another. Finally after we finish the bottle the guy is now looking worse for wear. He staggers to the toilet and I suspect a little too long. After coming back he tells us we have to go, which I found hilarious. He really does think he is the man. Well turns out he was the mayor of Jalgaon’s husband and the 3 other guys really were his goons. No wonder that they were not taking part in any banter aimed at us or at them. We walk back to the hotel drained from the intensity of the situation and bellowing of the guys loud mouth and return to the hotel. After mentioning the situation to the manager he tells us that the local government are massively corrupt (more than usual in India) and really arrogant, power hungry people with low moral value. So our conclusions were pretty spot on then.
The next day it was time to leave again. We arrive at the station and waited for an hour on the platform. Having another look the train had become another 6 hours late. A wait on the platform then? No, let’s go to lunch in the same place! Returning to the station again the train was another 2 hours late, but surprisingly we both were taking this in our stride and made me realise that we were now accustomed to this kind of thing and ‘Indianised’ in the lack of information, certainty of anyone in the country about anything, events that are possible and the rest. We were slowly seeing what the real India is like.
After a 24 hour delay we finally boarded our sleeper cabin, where we found a lovely Indian family going on holiday up north to see family. They moved about to accommodate us and we dug in for the night. Sleeper trains really are great. You are sweaty, it is hot and noisy. Chai walla’s (“tea men”) shouting till late, but everything has an amazing charm that I will cherish as a key part of traveling in India. The windows are open so you can see the country flow past, at night the breeze makes it warm enough to not need anything to sleep with, but not too warm. The price is half of any AC train and people bring their own food because they are poorer than those traveling in AC class. Throughout the night I dozed, woke up every few hours, got off the train and had a brief look around, bought some chai and then got back on the train before reading some more of “The Darma Buns” book by Jack Kerouac (perfect for such an occasion) and then fell asleep again.
Waking up in the morning with the world still whizzing by is another moment that makes you smile. The landscape transformed. Now there were hills of dusty rock formations, wide gorges and arid landscape. We had hit the Rajastani desert. Another 6 hours of training through an increasingly dry land we arrived in Agra, 26 hours late.
Ellora Caves and around Aurangabad June 10, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentAfter a day’s washing, sleeping, getting cash and finding our way around the city we headed out for a day in Dalautabad. Catching the bus was a bit of a nightmare. Feeling a little ropey from food the night before, we managed to squeeze through the massive pushing match, screams and kids being crushed so people can get on the bus, finally on I find a bag halfway on the seat and so put it in the baggage area above and sit down. A guy then comes up immediately shouting and pointing at us, to which the bus start debating the merits of the situation. Turns out that Indian people throw their bags onto a bus as it is pulling into a depot to “claim” their seat. Obviously we didn’t know this, but as a religious (Muslim) person didn’t expect to be shouted at without some reasoning first- so much for religious people’s tolerance. Things didn’t improve when the bus driver took our money and failed to give us a ticket. I asked him if we can have one, “No…. Senior Citizen” he says, well strange then that everyone is getting on. We insist and by the time we get a ticket out of the conductor he kicks us off as we have missed Delautabad. Landing in a nowhere place in the baking sun isn’t great. The nearest sign tells us we were off by 10km. Laura this time is fuming instead of I. The Ellora caves are only 4km away so although we try to avoid them as much as possible took on to regain a sense of momentum to our day.
Ellora was a treat that made up for the journey there. Built in 700- 900 AD these cave temples are in such good condition due to the hard stone hill they are excavated from (200,000 tons of rock removed to build them). There were 3 sets of caves representing the Buddist, Hindu and Jain faiths, in a period of religious tolerance (clearly we are digressing in this respect!), the largest temple called the Kailesa temple was massive and the oldest temple still in use today. The best in my opinion was the Buddist “Music Hall”, where the incredible acoustics were demonstrated by a standby guide. The massively echoed chants he produced in this chamber that is reminiscent of church roofs (curved to amplify sound) was truly mesmerising, which clearly was designed to put followers into a trance- it worked on us.
The next day we relax as we decide to have one day of sightseeing and one day not. I finally get in touch with a business contact I have made and meet up over lunch just after moving to a hotel (the hostel closed due to refurbishment work) and we found the best value for money place to eat yet; good quality and yet not expensive. The Thali I learnt means plate in Hindi and why the dish is named as such. Faiz is a gregarious man who quickly starts creating a daily timetable for us to see everything that Aurangabad has to offer. As we were not really into the planning style this is over facing, but it is good to know what a local thinks of the various sites.
After a bite to Faiz invites us to some of the sites around town, so we head off in his decrepit car and are shown around the university as well as the university history museum. I ask whether he thinks that keeping 700 AD stone sculptures outside was ok, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a problem- I am not so sure considering they were kept in a cave for millennia previously. Either way seeing the medieval weaponry and artifacts was fairly interesting.
Next however we headed out of town into the hills where we are told that the Buiddists when they arrived came to produce the temples, but the rock was not good enough quality (too soft we concur) and so they moved their efforts to Ellora. We do not go in, but have a quick picture moment of the cityscape below and caves from a distance, enough due to seeing Ellora a few days previously. It is absolutely baking at this point and even the wind feels like it from a furnace. The landscape is baron, arid, dusty and dead, but even then a lone guy in the middle of nowhere is pushing a wheelbarrow somewhere!
The last step with Faiz via a lime soda (the best for rehydration, which Laura needs at this point, looking very hot and red) is Bibi Ka Maqbara aka the “poor man’s Taj Mahal”. This is a sand and limestone version of the Taj built by the grandson of Shah Jahan (the person who built the real Taj Mahal), after Aurangzeb, Shah Jahan’s son killed his father and marched everyone to Aurangabad (what a family!) The detail is not amazing due to erosion, but a good effort to say the least. The only trouble we experienced was mock-celeb status that we have been getting to an extent, but nothing like this. Girls following me and guys staring Laura up and down, pictures taken of us without permission and the one sit down before we look around we are circled, I have a baby placed on my knee and at least 8 cameras snapping away. Laura isn’t feeling great but they don’t care, as long as they have “one for the album”, for what meaning exactly I am still not sure.
Now the heat has completely drained us we head back to sleep. This is where Laura’s trouble starts. I suspect sickness is the result of a combination of overheating, sun exposure, eating and then being driven across the bumpiest roads ever. Lucky the next day was a rest day as Laura slept all day, unable to eat or even leave the room.
Arriving in Aurangabad June 9, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentAfter spending 6 hours the night before uploading photos due to numerous power failures rendering Internet use almost impossible, a 6am start was tiring. We set of to find a rickshaw hoping that we would receive the usual battle. After dismissing the first group on a scam, the next was ok and we made it to the station having spent the right amount of money and in good time.
The train departed under “training cumulus” clouds, which signal the onset of the Monsoon season and say goodbye to the risk of rain as we head north to Aurangabad. In the spirit of trying everything we opted for 3-AC class this time due to travelling across the Deccan plateau for 9 hours (in Goa we used the standard sleeper “SL” class). My suspicion was that 3-AC was a standard sleeper, plus the “luxury” of air conditioning, which attracts a charge of at least 70% extra (this Internet café is charging Rs15 instead of 10 due to their AC, and hotels do the same- the rooms are the same they just switch AC on). However I was wrong. The train actually had something that resembled a toilet and not just a hole onto the tracks below. The clientele was also middle class Indian people, there was far less screaming, noise and crowding, which made the experience a lot more civilized. I do question the value of AC overall, but burning your hands on double glazed windows from the sun also made me think twice. Fans, as is the outside breeze traveling at speed are great for cooling down and so AC is perhaps an unnecessary luxury, but both of these do increase dehydration and so maximum comfort is worth it occasionally.
We arrived in dusty Aurangabad at 7pm the same evening and the first impressions were the swarms of Rickshaws. Harassed instantly we head for the only guy sat patiently and get in, most to the disgust of the other people. Trouble is he doubled the fare when we arrived at the Youth Hostel (the meter was the reading per person didn’t you know!) to which I told him where to go and paid the actual reading.
Thankfully the hostel was Rs70 per night for a dorm room because it was more like a concentration camp. I have been to quite a few hostels and this was the dirtiest. Why a lady is sweeping the outside area from falling leaves and flowers when the floor inside makes your feet instantly filthy is beyond me. I also wonder of the benefits of urinals which are disconnected from any water supply or sewerage system so that going to the toilet means you urinate all over your feet… use the floor next time (you think I am joking). Either way due to the low season we are in a pretty much empty hostel, although there is no food available as the guidebook states for this reason (another limitation of guide books is that they are written with high season visitors in mind).
The hostel though resembles the city as a whole- a bit of a dump. More baron wastelands and rubbish, plus a river running through it that literally has more poo in it than water (you can see this due to the colour and consistency, oh and the smell is a bit of a giveaway). That is a shame considering that this area is perhaps the most historically significant due to the sights collected in an area of 100km. Built predominantly by Aurangzeb, the Mughal who built the Taj Mahal and then some years later decide to march the population of Delhi over 1000km to Aurangabad only to turn them back later due to Delhi being defenseless against attack!
From the farm back to reality and onto Auragabad June 6, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , 1 comment so farFarm back to reality
Following a week at the Mango farm we need to get back to Pune to catch our train to Aurangabad which leaves early in the morning of 28th May. Umesh collects us midday and invites us to stay at his for the night. He is such a great host, we a balled over with his generosity. With the promise of chicken and beer, great company plus an A/C room it all seems too good to be true!
For dinner, Al and Umesh go ‘shopping’ for the chicken at a chicken farm nearby. They select the plump bird of their fancy and from what I heard killed and feathered it in a pretty inhumane way which consisted of chucking it into a machine that shook it around. I would just like to say at this point that I said before I leave that I would be veggie whilst in India. After a week of eating 2 meals a day (both consisted of Roti, rice and predominantly ocra) made by the local villager; so I was gagging for some protein. No more ocra…please! I think in any other situation I would have thought twice about aborting my vegetarianism. The other point on this is that everyone tends to be vegetarian and only eats meat at home, or where they are absolutely certain on the methods of how the meat is being cooked and where it came from. Also, if the host eats meat, so do I.
Al, being interested in collecting recipes, was in heaven as Umesh teaches him how to cook the dish. Also we discover that ‘masala’ actually just means spices. There was I thinking it was a particular type of dish…King prawn Masala for example.
Once the food was prepared, we tucked into several different appetizers and a few bottles London Pilsners. Umesh also got some chicken tandori take-away to have as a snack with the beer. It was so delicious- best tandori I think I have had, although I was starving so I think most things tasted particularly good!
After many hours of chatting, Umesh suggests eat. Hehe. I was ready for bed! I had forgotten that we hadn’t even had the main course yet. The chicken stock he had made was heavenly and the chicken killed for the occasion was certainly cooked to perfection. With time having been so warped, I glanced at my watch and noticed the date was wrong on it. When I commented on this, it transpired that Al and I were both a day out of keel and actually our train was not due to depart the following morning, it was due the day after that! Oops. Umesh was more than happy to put up with us for another day though (thank goodness), so this meant we had an unexpected day in Pune to do some touristy stuff. Fantastic!
As highly recommended for our unexpected extra day in Pune, we headed towards the Patalshvara Cave Temple with the intention of having an explore around this side of town. Possibly venturing into the Raja Dinkar Kelkar Museum.. We hopped into an autorikshaw who took us at speed down the highway to J.M Road.
The Patalshvara Cave Temple is cut into the rock, it’s small and unfinished but dates back to the 8th century. Such an amazingly calm, tranquil and shady place. It was so nice to sit there and chill. A guy near us was reading the paper in the temple, which made me wonder why we don’t use our churches as a place to be calm in our lunch breaks back in the Uk?! I don’t think you have to be religious to realize the potential of such places. As long as respect is made to those who are around you.
Next door to the Patalshvara Cave Temple, was the more recent Jangali Maharaj Temple. This seems much busier with people dropping in for a quick payer as well as ladies sitting for hours chatting quietly. We hung out in the temples for a good hour and be time I left, back onto the very busy J.M road I felt peaceful and full of energy for the rest of our day.
One thing I have noticed about Pune is that it is a lot cleaner than Mumbai. The people seem more cosmopolitan too. J.M Road definitely reflected these thoughts. The street, although with the usual hectic vibe and zillions of rickshaws was broad with many up market shops and cafes. Al noticed a KFC joint that he could not resist trying out. For those who don’t know: Al loves fried chicken and has tried KFC in Poland, Bankok, Vietnam and other places around the world and has noticed their menu varies depending on where he is. Indian KFC has a ‘masala’ topping on it – very nice- tasted like spicey tomato flavour.
For the rest of the afternoon we wondered around and soaked up the people, place, shops, traffic, smells, sounds, tastes, etc. I tried my first fresh cocnut- which I have always wanted to do. Very tasty milk, but I much prefer the flesh to be hard. With the coconut being so fresh is was a bit of a slimy texture of which I wasn’t too keen.
We had intended on walking towards the museum, but discovered that Lonely Planet was out of date and it had moved a few months back. Nevertheless, we enjoyed walking all the way down J.M Road (very long). Near the end we came across what seemed to be the wedding district. Every shop was either silk, clothing or gold shops. I was pretty cool to see all the dowry gold on show.
That evening we hang out with Yash (Umesh’s daughter). We go and eat street food with her. Her favourite is pane puri, so of course that is on the menu. Along with a few other pulse dishes that are bloomin spicey (but tasty).
Finally, the 28th arrives and we jump into a rickshaw to get to Pune rail Station. My gut is not happy and I think that may 3 different pulse dishes from the street vendors was a little optimistic. Hey ho, it is bearable, just a bit grumbly.
Our train departs at 8:45 sharp and isn’t overly busy which is great. We opted for AC this time, as the journey will take 9 hours through the heat of the day. It is comfortable, if not a little cold. A very sick man (we think diabetic) was in one of our bunks, so we willingly use the top bunks instead. Also, there is a bunk on the other side of the aisle which has a window next to it. So we were more than happy. I spent the whole journey reading about Indian history and looking out the window. The view for much of the time was of the Deccan Plateau…VERY arid. I could see where water would normally gush was completely dried up. Bring on the monsoon- the villages need it badly.
Arriving at Aurangabad we are confronted with the most rickshaws I have seen so far! How on earth do the ALL make a living??- Al had pondered. We selected one who hadn’t bugged us and drove to our pre-booked hostel. Rs70 for a dorm room…can’t go wrong. Although, I don’t think I have ever stayed in such a scummy place before. I don’t think the floor has ever been cleaned in its whole existence! The toilets don’t flush and when I chucked a bucked of water down instead, I learn that the pipes have holes in them! Ergh. It is all good though, the girls dorm was completely empty- so just me in a big room to myself. Al’s dorm has one Chinese guy staying- and that is it! I guess most sensible travelers don’t come to Aurangabad when it is 42c. Or if they do, they get an AC room. The Chinese guy told Al that there are loads of mozzies, so we promptly get out mosquito nets up. Although my effort was a bit of a blond moment…I didn’t turn the fan off first and as I stood on the bed to hang it up the fan took a chunk of skin out of my finger, OUCH. Really clever Laura. It’s ok though- not much blood- just an achey bruised knuckle minus a bit of skin. Lucky really!
Sleeping in the hostel wasn’t too bad so we are going to base ourselves here for another night at least. Tonight we are meeting up with a business contact of Als, who is keen to tell us the best places to go. Of course in the next few days we will be visiting the Ajanta Caves- very excited about that. They are apparently very well preserved considering how old they are.
Today we are having our 1st Month travelling day. A day to recoupe, take stock, do laundery and have an explore around Aurangabad. First impressions though; Auragnabad is hot and dusty and the men seem a bit more sleezy here..
That’s all for now folks. Namaste.
Post written by Laura
khatpevadi Valley Mango Farm June 5, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentAt 5pm on the 18th May 2010 a yellow rickshaw approached us on the roadside and Umesh appeared with a smile and helped us jam our bags into the rickshaw. It seemed strange being picked up by someone you have met online, to a place you do not know. Yet having done exactly that in the US I am confident and excited to see what will unfold. A 20 minute ride through sticky, dusty Pune we reach Umesh’s house and meet the family. A suburban area of town in a clean, modern apartment block we are due to stay here for 1 night before heading off to the farm. It is bliss to be staying somewhere with AC for the first time since Mumbai and actually is a little cold (never satisfied!) Umesh’s daughter Yash and Anuradha are lovely and instantly start making plans for what we need to see/ do.
Tonight is swimming at the local outdoor pool, but we need a membership. No worries thouugh as Umesh knows the local politician who owns the pool. Despite being questioned as to why I am wearing ‘outside clothes’ (my swimming shorts) it is lovely to cool off and watch the Indian, not so good swimmers and do a few laps with bats circling over head. We are getting used to numerous eyes being fixed on us and as I am not self-conscious, don’t really care. It is great to meet Umesh and his family as it meets our aims of getting to know local people and see what people are doing first hand. These are great guys also and sitting down over a dry shrimp curry that Umesh shows me how to make we sit together eating on the floor, with a few large Kingfisher beers, discussing Indian politics, ‘backshish’ (blackmail and corruption) stories and commenting on Indian music videos. Family life in middle class India is good and with a family helper makes those chores that much easier.
The next day we set off to the farm. We were due to go to the meditation centre, but Umesh warns that it is far too hot and that lack of wind makes it intolerable. People are working for 4 hours a day in early morning and evening only there, so we head to the Mango farm where at least the burn is subsides with the breeze. This place really is in the middle of nowhere.
20 miles SE of Pune the local village has a population of around 70-100 people and 2 sparsely stocked shops. This is not a problem though as a villager visited twice a day with food, which meant we just needed any other items we could pick up. It soon became clear that this was Pepsi (Rs23), crisps (Rs10) and buscuits (Rs5). No beer or any alcohol, so Gold Flake cigarettes (Rs48) was my only vice. It turns out that most people in India chew tobacco as it is only Rs1 per packet, compared to 1 small cigerette (they are sold in small 6mm or large 8mm sizes), which costs Rs3. That said they do also smoke “beedies”, which consists of a small amount of tobacco wrapped in a leaf of some kind. They taste pretty good, but are apparrently twice as bad for your health than cigerettes and do not have a filter. The chewing tobacco is not like the US version, which is prime leaf tobacco however, but the offcuts of the plant, including stalk and other remnants, which is then flavoured by some kind of artificial flavouring. The great thing about the farm is that you can begin pondering this kind of pertinent issue!It is beautiful here though, even being in its arid state. Sitting on the verrander looking across the rows of Am (Mango) peards (trees), surrounded by hills and a temple being built in the mid distance. Surprisingly however it is not too peaceful. The 3 dogs that guard the farm bark at most things, as guard dogs would, but this means regular wake up calls throughout the night. There is also an air force base over the hills so the MIG fighter jets also cut through the stillness with their supersonic roars. At night, 10pm there is often the low thuds of that crazy dance music stuff… weddings in India are loud and the music from them can be heard from the town 2 miles away. We settle into the routine fairly quickly. Waking at around 6- 7am, watering the 10 Mango sapling trees by bucket (15mins work) and then waiting out the heat of the day until around 4-5pm when we water the Mango trees again. The rest of the time we spend reading, pondering, or if you are me making things. This is the first time I have produced an effective dustpan using ductape as the lip- it’s a keeper and even Sanchin (the current caretaker is impressed, which is good as mostly we receive ‘no’s to most actions and suggestions!) Communication here is interesting as it involves sign language with everyone mixed with the odd word of English, Hindi and Marati (the Maharashran language).
The only thing that was not met by any sort of “No” was cut down 11 trees that has died through fire. The task was to cut them down, chop them into 1/2 meter lengths and carry them back to the farmhouse. It was baking and sweat literally poured off leading to serious, pee burning dehydration. I was on a mission though and even when Laura couldn’t go on continued until everything had been cut down and into lengths. Apparently I am a ’strong boy’ as Sanchin commented watching me having finished watering the 10 trees an hour earlier (Indian work ethic even Umesh agrees with). The next day it was time to stack and carry back. Laura couldn’t face it so I conceive a plan of carrying back the wood using dried reeds, which was useful as we had run out of kindling for the fire. On the last bunch of reeds, yes I cut my finger halfway to the bone and blood is pumping out of my finger and coats my whole hand. I see the fat under the skin and know it is deep. Damn. Back at the farmhoue we then realise that despite carrying a ridiculously large amount of medical supplies that gauze is not one of them. So rigging a wound dressing out of plasters was interesting at best. Iodine still hurts, but certainly does the job.
As the days plod on our love of the farm wears into slight dispair. Being told no without a reason constantly and a lack of understanding of reason makes it diffcult to appreciate what is going on and this has a negative on your perceptions of general living. The food is fine. Fine in that it is food and it is a 2 course meal. However spiced Bindi/Baji/Vegetables (all the same thing it turns out) with chapati or Roti and then a gravy based dish with plain rice becomes wearing, especially when the same veg and main dish turns up every 2 meals. There are generally 4 options of a meal:
Chapati or Roti with Ocra or green beans
followed by
Watery Dal Fry or Aloo Gobi (a little potato and cauliflower with a thin sauce)and rice to soak up the thin sauce.
This is always washed down with the water from the well which is the only water supply here and actually very good.
Don’t get me wrong this is all “ok”, but that is all and having eaten some of the best food in the world I start to dream about ribs and all kinds of food I miss, followed by feeling very ungrateful, spoiled and ultimately realise that it can be a curse to know what is out there. When you do not have it you miss it, where everyone here is more than happy with this everyday. The monotony of this meal structure was broken thrice.
The first time was after a few days of being on the farm alone when Umesh turned up in the evening with chicken and rum… what a good man! We sit between the Mango trees and are served dinner by a rabble of different people. 6 hours later, 2 meals, 2 bottles of rum and an emotional chat about death in families, spirituality, Reiki and morality in life we retired to our usual sleeping position on the veranda to catch the evening breeze.
The second time when on a Sunday the lady brought a treat- eggs, which were then curried. Lovely…
The last time was when we were invited to the village gathering at the temple a day before departure. A time when everyone gets together once per month for people to make offerings to the gods and pray for what they want in life. This is followed by a similar meal structure, but with the rice being Pilau and the curry sauce having a greater variety of vegetables and more complex spicing. This really was heaven for Laura and I, who sat together in our ‘Ethnic’ (as the Indians call it themselves) clothing. This is VIP treatment as the ladies are not able to sit with the men and the elders eat first, which we are also not. This was a fantastic experience and honor to see the gods communicate with the village ’spiritualists’.
Pune June 2, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , add a commentSo the adventure really begins. After our 2 week break on the golden sands of Goa, realaxing as much as possible, getting acclimatised to the hot, humid heat of the Indian summer. We spent our last day at Boomshanka, soaking up the relaxing vibes and trying to memorise the beautiful sunset.
The next morning we embarked on getting out of Goa. Our aim is to go north which normally should be a simple task of catching a train from Margao. However, due to it being Indian holiday time plus the extreme heat of the south, it seems that the whole population of the south is also trying to travel north! We have already been told by a travel agent in Vagator that all trains going to cooler climates are booked up. It would have been tempting just to sit it out and hang out in Goa for longer, but with the season coming to an end all business are shutting up in preparation for the Monsoon. With this information in mind, we decide to go to the main Goan train station (Margoa) and see if we can get a tourist quota ticket as a last resort.
Getting to Margoa from Vagator entails two very sticky hot and squished public busses (changing at Mapusa and Panjim). This journey takes about an hour in total, but only costing Rs. 30 (50p) compared to Rs 900 (11 pounds) if we had opted for the taxi instead. So although not the most comfortable of journeys, the cost made it bearable.
Once in Margoa, we are confronted with more of the same news. There are no trains (even to Mumbai) until the 22nd June! We are not prepared to wait a month so we manage to book ourselves a sleeper bus to Pune that evening. Pune is just outside Mumbai and although it is not that far north, it is a start! Also, back in the Uk I made a contact in Pune over the internet who has offered us work helping him build a meditation centre and help on his farm so we decide that Pune is the best option for the time being.
The sleeper bus is like nothing I had been on before. It has double bunk beds on either side of the aisle with A/C. It looks comfortable and seeing as it is an 11hour night couch I was happy to get my head down asap. The only problem is there were no toilets so I was consciously not drinking too much water with the fear that my grape bladder will haunt me! We do have a stop enroute and surprisingly the service station toilets aren’t too gory.
Our route from Goa to Pune was through the Konkan Hills; so very very bendy roads plus a manic bus driver, I was left feeling like I was on a small ship and felt I had to compensate my sleeping position everytime we went around a bend. Despite this, I must have managed to sleep as the next thing I knew we awake with a sharp poke and are ejected, 6am apparently in the wrong part of the city. Al and I were literally turfed out onto the streets of Pune. I was rolling my sleeping bag up on the side of the road feeling rather dehydrated and groggy. Within seconds we were surrounded by autorickshaws asking us were we wanted to go. Thee truth is we had no idea…
Dazed and confused we took a rickshaw to a hostel recommended in the Lonely Planet to make things easy on our first day in the city before making a judgement call and moving somewhere better- This is a strategy we have agreed is best to ensure we are not stung as newcomers to a place, but also ensuring our non-reliance and deviation from the “sheeps trail” that is travel via Lonely Planet- The place is closed and the rickshaw is all too wannabe helpful. After waiting for the place to open it was too expensive and the guy stand-offish. We realise the rickshaw was out to screw us, so told him where to go and that we would walk the 2 kilometers to an area that is renowned for its cheap guest houses. Eventually we make it to Koregaon Park- the tourist quarter. Laura negotiates a 300Rs (4.50) per night double room with no AC (as this literally doubles the price at least due to the Indian ‘luxury tax’), I am beginning to feel the frustration of Indian people providing completely inaccurate and useless information and saying yes to EVERYTHING and then negotiating on what yes means. Finally we crash out for a few hours to catch up on the sleep we missed.
It is hot in Pune, but a different type of heat- HOT heat. It is 43C here and while the humidity is low the concrete jungle gives off this inferno from all angles. We feel bad etering a western type bar, but it is the only thing that looks like it has a) Air Con b) sells beer c) is near our accommodation (we are having an early night). We resist the American fare and head off to find some kind of cheap Indian food. Unfortunately Koregaon Park is an expensive area (so why does the Lonely Planet recommend it to backpackers!?), but we settle on a place where a main meal is Rs160, more than double the usual. We justify this away by trying the meat dishes that we wouldn’t eat from a street stall or cheap place, especially in Pune. The tandoori chicken and mutton dish I had were great, we were able to eat outside and soak up some atmosphere, listening to business dinners and the middle class do their thing. This is not hard in Pune as it is a bourgeoning city and IT hub, a base for the outsourced Internet/tech workers for the west.
We spend the first 2 days figuring out trains and what on earth we are going to do. After yet another frustrating conversation with a train ticket officer (telling us there are no trains…there must be a train sooner or later we think!) we decide to reserch train availabilty ourselves from an internet cafe. FINALLY we make progress and find an available train to Aurangabad on the 28th May, a train from Jalgoan (near Aurangabad) to Agra on 7th June and a train from Agra- Varanasi of the 9th June- on our own steam and the massively helpful cleartrip.com that allows you to see availability for the next 7 and 15 days and not just one day at a time (hugely frustrating). Armed with train codes and every detail we can think of, we embark on booking these tickets at the train station. Given the difficulty we have had so far, we couldn’t help feeling nervous that we will be turned away empty handed once more. We are on this occasion have a 100% success rate. SORTED!! We have a week to spend before our first train, so make a call to Umesh (my contact) who agreed to let us work for him, despite warnings that it may be to hot to handle.
The next day we have a wander around the city, the sights are far away, so we head to the shopping centre to get some Air Con and check out costs etc. This is the first place I have had a cheap and good coffee that has not been soiled by 50% sugar. We also want to pick up some authentic Indian clothing, which funnily enough the Indians call ‘Ethnic’- I thought that was a predjudiced western word. Despite looking for Laura we could find a good scalf of Salwar Kameez, but I do find a Kurta that matches my long linen trousers- perfect! So I am now all “ethnic” and hopefully can do a better job of ‘fitting in’ (impossible as a white person, but it’s about cultural effort, even though it attracts laughs and stares more than congratulations!)
We realise during this time that we are finally entering into real culturalhood, as we predicted. Goa is a bubble, an exception, people go there (Westerners and Indian alike to get drunk, take drugs, relax, have sex and break as many traditional Indian moral conventions as possible. We also begin to pick up on the Indian’s inability to tell you anything straight, nor say no to anything. There is also the ‘head wobble’ that seems to me anything from yes to no and everything in between. I’m starting to us this when I cannot be bothered to respond.
Later that day we meet up with Umesh, who instills excitment and reasures us that our preparation efforts were useful and that he is not dodgy, even though we still do not know where we are heading exactly the next day. He is a lovely guy, who invites us to stay at his flat for a night before taking us to his mango farm. We are so excited and definately think our persistence deserves a Kingfisher tanda (cold). As we have already paid for one more night in Koregaon Park, we agree for him to pick us up the following day.
With everthing a little fore planned we relax with a beer and pick up a great toasted sandwich from a street stall with green chilli paste (we discover with a massive mouthful) and tomato sauce. Rs20? You cannot go wrong. After wandering around Pune’s Disney World, which is literally a bouncy castle one spinning ride from the 70’s and small horses to ride we head back to sleep via a bar for a quick rum and coke.
One more sleep in the hottest room ever (thanks to a very slow fan) and then we are off to Umesh’s place! Bring it on.
