Pune Round Two September 2, 2010
Posted by admin in : India , 1 comment so farAfter an epic time in Omkareshwar we set off back to the bus station, in conditions that were much quieter than when we arrived. The journey back on the bus to Indore was a little squished this didn’t phase us now and we managed to get off the bus before the final stop, on a busy roundabout, as we knew where we were going, which made our lives easier- all the benefits of knowing what is going on! We caught the train easily and experienced perhaps the most restful journey into Pune where we also felt like we were now in familiar territory. Unfortunately we were due to be picked up from the station and go back to Umesh’s but we had to do this alone. This is fine as we now have experience at shouting at people at 8am, but it is something you’d rather not do. After Umesh giving direction’s to a rickshaw “wallah” (or ‘man) he decides we are too much hassle so tells someone else to go. 6 rickshaw drivers circle around shouting prices and our assumed final destination at the same time to give an Dolby surround effect reminiscent of a car crash you do not need at 8am. I have a cigarette, but Laura shouts louder and ultimately informs them we are not usual tourists and that we are not getting ripped off. After 25 minutes arguing we leave to Kotrud out of town to Umesh’s.
It is mad to be back in a place that we were at 3 months ago. My beard having taken hold and definitely looking a little more ‘rough around the edges’ let’s say. It is great to be in an apartment with AC possibilities and where the cook ensures they provide ‘luxury’ food, like eggs and meat that you can actually trust. It is great to see Umesh and Yash again, although something is amiss. The day we arrive Yash has started feeling really ill, cannot focus or stand up straight. Through a series of situational twists and turns reminiscent of Neighbours where we almost went to Goa, had no one coming to the farm with us, to everyone coming to the farm with us, including Umesh’s daughter who was studying in Mumbai until the next day, we headed to the farm in convoy. Being driven out of the modern city of Pune out into the country we drove through dusty towns that you’d really not like to live in and past vast tent complex’s that people have erected I assume to live in temporarily whilst building the fly over that is being built, that look like asylum camps we finally see how much greener the area is after the main monsoon rains. The rolling hills suddenly start to look like England with beech tree forests and luscious grass.
The farm is even better, with a massive lake that has been filled with the monsoonal rains, surrounded by hills on all sides except the road side that was surprisingly loud and slightly damaged the tranquillity of the area. That night was spent working out family drama and was draining- certainly not what we had expected, but then from the last experience we had grasped that things tend to not happen as they are intended in the Athlekar house!
The next day we hear about a winery up the road, called Chateaux Indage, which does food and are delighted when we are asked if we would like to go, as we had been looking at going wine tasting in Nasik if we hadn’t gone to Omkareshwar. Again going with the flow of things tends to deliver all you want in life, although we are sceptical whether we will make it or if plans change again. They don’t however and we make it up the road to taste 12 wines of white and red varieties, while eating chicken kofta- a real treat. The Indian wines are far more acidic than other wines and are expensive to buy, so ultimately not anywhere near the best wine growing area, as you need to pay around 10 pounds for a good bottle of merlot to get anything of real quality. Either way it was an ace trip out before the family left us on the side of the road and headed back to Pune without us.
The farm was much busier than the other we visited, but we were told to just relax and enjoy for 10 days, which was ace as we were being housed and fed for free and all we had to do was swim in the natural lake, walk around and chill. How we landed on our feet and really appreciated that! What was better was that the monsoon line had now advanced north and so the rains in Pune had now subsided and we were just left with good weather that was not too hot or cold, but still sunny. We were also in the company of the same guy who we met and stayed with for 8 days on the last farm, with his mother who did the cooking at Umesh’s house last time. She loved Laura and despite the language barrier treated her like a daughter for the whole time we were there and Sachin, who had his quirky, childish difficulties was at least predictable now. This place is also a lot more comfortable than the last and ultimately luxurious. We had a bed and a fridge, with electricity most of the time. The place was a new build that was being turned into part of a meditation resort, which has fantastic potential to be something really special. However when Umesh was revealing his plans we suspected that he was going to damage the balance between a natural landscape that benefited the meditation centre’s aims, with also trying to build a place for local kids to come and enjoy. These two markets are in conflict and would not work together well, so when we were told about water slides leading to the lake and a fully landscaped and walled in complex we were disappointed while glad to be there when this had not taken hold. Umesh did tell me that there was land to be bought there and that he had looked into it for me (due to a previous conversation of me buying land in India) and the price was Rs12 lakhs for 1.5 acres (1.2 million rupees or 17 thousand) is good, but not what we would want if we had to look at a fully developed, squeeky clean hotel complex with a wall/ barbed wire surrounding.
For our purpose of staying in a place with a bit of comfort though it was perfect. Days ended up rolling together, each morning carrying a matress down to the side of the lake and planting it on a tiled area that in future is meant to be a tent pitch. Armed with my Yoga books I had swapped in Varanasi, the ipod now with charging capability and a warm lake to swim in we developed a great holidayesque routine reminiscent of Goa, when we started the trip. My yoga practice that I was so determined to continue after the lessons we had in Varanasi but failed to do so was now adopted with a renewed vigour and my stretching 6- 8 times a day eventually led me to be able to pull off some of the “advanced” postures, which was satisfying as India was certainly the place to learn yoga! Laura didn’t fair as well, but was enjoying the peace without feeling like you are about to snap- fair enough.
The whole time turned out perfect, as it meant that we had started with a holiday ended with a holiday, with an exploratory holiday in between! Each morning we would watch the fisherman walk down to the lake with his rubber ring and “set sail” with his bag of fishing net on his lap, sat legs akimbo on his rubber ring and paddle off using his flip flops, dropping his net strategically across different parts of the lake. There were big fish in there, so one day we decided to go fishing. The rods were unsurprisingly bamboo with a fixed line and yes we used uncooked chapati as bait. There are many tribal people who come down to the lake to go fishing. The fisherman stocked the lake himself, but as these tribes people have no house nor job come down to steal or collect food from the land as much as possible. Most people actually just use a crab line and chuck it as far in as possible, so we were quite sophisticated with our float etc. Either way we caught nothing as the line was too short to reach the depths and the hook too big to catch any of the little fish that were nibbling on the bait. It’s the taking part that counts though right?
The only real issues we really had was with the farm hands and the food, which we feel about as we were being given this, and as we should do, feel bad to raise this as a problem. As in the first farm the food was very rural Indian in nature. It consisted what Laura and I ultimately named “Pannee Masala”, which means spiced water. The eating method is the same, vegetables cooked with Tumeric, chilli power onion and perhaps garlic, this is eaten with chapati, then comes the block of rice, which is the main event and this is eaten with a watery dal or another sparse vegetable combo. To be fair it was more variant than the last farm as the vegetables that were used were more plentiful and so had a greater range than just Okra and green beans, but there is only so much rice, spice and veg you can eat in a row when you are eating three meals a day, especially for Laura whose stomach was playing up. In fact for the first few days we ensured she ate a plain noodle dish to try and shift whatever was still giving her grief. Again this sounds ungrateful, but it is not, it is just difficult to eat so many times in a row when you are used to a wealth of different foods including meat. It was great to see how rural Indians ate and talk to the guys about how much English food cost vs India and how much meat we ate. We are sure that these guys could never face and English diet, while we were managing. We will always have a firm in print of what “real Indian food” is all about though and you will not find it in a UK takeaway!
The only other small problem was that we were supposed to be guests on the farm, according to the owner, Umesh’s wishes, but as soon as he left the guys would change from really helpful to lazy. It is interesting to see how much time and lethargically they would work and the little attention that was paid to the details of a job. For example they entirely covered the wooden dividers and dado rail with newspaper immaculately and neatly with tape, but so little attention to the painting that it ran down the grooves onto the wood anyway and then failed to sandpaper it off later, so that ultimately the wood was covered in paint anyway! They would also expect us to come and get food and chai at designated times that suited them instead of offering us what we needed as would happen when Umesh was around. I would also get told how to eat and have pretty much non-stop “No!” and “Baad” (Marati for ‘bad’ literally), which gets annoying when you actually don’t want to be told to eat a second block of rice when you are incredibly full. Either way these were minor points compared to the benefit of the beautify scenery and the value that we were being given without giving anything in return.
This whole relaxing, swimming, reading and taking in the country routine was only broken up by a walk around the hills and scoping out the view over the green valleys below, watching the water buffalo chill out in ‘our’ lake on the other bank listening to the farmer shouting medieval sounding “Huuuuut hiyaaaa!” like sounds to jee them up and scouting out wild peacocks that are native to the area, but too shy for us to see. Peacocks do sound like crying cats though- I didn’t know that! We were also invited to the local village temple again for “puja” (meaning ‘prayer’) and sat with the locals with kids literally open mouthed staring at us. We ate the free food that is given out at these events, comprising of a similar meal that we had been eating but as it is a special occasion they had jeera (cumin) rice and a dessert of sweetened coconut.
On one of the last days Umesh came to pay the farm a visit and said that he would be back tomorrow evening with some chicken to BBQ. Great! Some meat! So dutifully we built a brick bar-b-que in preparation, but were a little skeptical whether it would happen given that everything else we had been told had changed and not happened for a variety of reasons. We put faith that it would happen but prepared us for if it didn’t. When it didn’t happen however we were a little annoyed and disappointed, but kept telling ourselves that it didn’t matter and to go with the flow, exactly what you have to do when travelling and especially when you visit India. It was about being given expectations and then let down, not about what we were going to get out of it. Either way we were promised eggs the next day for omelette, which would just be there. We were not surprised when the farm hand looked at us blankly and made it hard for us to get the eggs through asking, but eventually these turned up and we made great omelettes using the BBQ we had built the day before.
So the next day we were due to leave and again another problem arose that meant our lift back to Pune couldn’t happen either. Now we needed to catch a rickshaw with all our bags and then a bus, we were put a little out of place with this, but were convinced to go to Umesh’s to see him for one last time as he was on his own. We arrived and he wasn’t alone, but again we are now used to what is claimed and the reality being completely different. Either way Umesh was a legend and treated us to a tandoori chicken meal in the form of making up for failing to turn up the other night and going with the flow panned out again, even though we were put out of joint more than we had wanted, but hey changing your personality takes time and we are both sticklers for people not delivering on their word. It was great to spend time with Umesh without the girls and we sat up until 2:30am drinking and chatting about Yoga, religion and everything in between. A pleasurable, comfortable final night before we left for the UK.
The next day came and went with Internet chores and soon we were on a rickshaw to Pune station and a general class seat to Mumbai. The usual questions came from a man sitting next to me, but this time could have some kind of half meaningful conversation in my “Engdi” and his “Hinglish” combined. I even found out how to get to the airport quicker and received more compliments on my Hindi skills- sweet!
In no time we were blasting up the Mumbai backbone road to the airport and sat on the plane. The last day and time always disappears and we realised that already we are 25% through our global adventure. Time… it always goes in a combination of seeming to go slowly when you are there and then quickly when there has been time already passed.
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.
