India2020

We’re now at Singapore airport – halfway home.  I thought I’d have time to catch up on this blog while we were in Mumbai, thinking it would be just another big, dirty city like Delhi, but I was wrong.  India saved some of the best till last.

Our final day in Kochi was spent cruising, literally.  Along the coastline of the state of Kerala, there’s a network of lagoons, lakes, canals, rivers and inlets forming more than 900km of waterways.  All eventually flow out into the Arabian Sea.  The waterways are lined with leafy green plants and palm trees so it has a tropical island feel.  Clusters of houses are dotted along the water’s edge, some not much more than a hut and others quite new and substantial in size.  The communities survive from growing and harvesting crops, fishing and in the case of one household we visited, making coconut husk string.

Our cruise was on a small boat with one man at the front and one at the end punting.  It was a slow, relaxing trip, a bit too slow for BJ’s liking.  He would have preferred a two-stroke motor so we could venture a bit further into the network of waterways.

By the time our bus dropped us back at the apartment it was after 4pm so there wasn’t much of the day left.  We walked down to the local tailor we’d visited yesterday to organise our team uniform.  On our last family trip we’d had started a tradition. We all travelled home in ‘Hawaiian’ shirts covered in fruit.  I’m still not exactly sure of the relevance of these shirts to Vietnam/Cambodia but they were sold at every market we went to so seemed like an obvious choice.  This time we found an amazing elephant print in every colour of the rainbow and had shirt custom made.  Lewis is pretty excited, Toni not so much.

Our flight to Mumbai meant an early start.  5am pick up from our accommodation, 1 hour drive to the airport.  Security at the airports is tight.   Passports and flight details are checked at the door to the terminal and only passengers are allowed inside.  Bags are scanned and it can easily take an hour to get through to the departure lounge.  We’ve been allowing 2 hours to be on the safe side and make sure we don’t miss any flights.

I was pleased to see all our bags come out on the baggage claim at Mumbai airport.  I had anticipated having to deal with problems with our travel, delayed or cancelled flights/accommodation or lost luggage.  To the contrary, everything had run to plan and from Mumbai, it didn’t really matter if one of our bags went astray on the flight back to Christchurch, we’d have plenty of other clothes at home to wear while waiting for the airline to locate our bags.

I hadn’t been overly looking forward to Mumbai.  I had expected a repeat of Delhi but that wasn’t the case.

Soon after we left the airport we could see modern high rise buildings, a mix of commercial and apartments suggesting this was a reasonably modern city.  There were very few tuk tuks, rather small dented taxis and a splattering of European vehicles (some also with dents that I’m sure made the owners cry).  Our driver took us over a newly constructed bridge, intended to speed up the compute from the city to the airport and outer suburbs.  We passed by some of the slums that Mumbai is known for, flat areas of makeshift buildings, bright blue from the overuse of blue tarpaulins that brought back memories of camping with Jodie in Punakaiki.  Our drive took us along the waterfront, not one that people were swimming in but picturesque all the same.  By the time we arrived at our hotel I realised I’d misjudged this city.

We’d read in recent online reviews about the roadworks outside our hotel.  A sure sign of progression in the city but not great for getting some sleep.  Our room was the corner room on level one, roadworks on both sides of us.  We asked to be moved.

Our hotel was in the Fort District, a couple of kms from the Gateway of India.  The Gateway was built in the early 19^th century to commemorate the visit of the British Monarch (George V) and, possibly more famously, it was where the last British troops left India in 1948 following India’s Independence.  We called in at a brewery along the way and watched the start of the India v Australia cricket that was being played at the Oval not far from our hotel.  BJ is struggling with the lack of beer selection.  In most places it’s Kingfisher or Kingfisher.  A visit to Pomeroy’s will probably follow closely after picking up Oskar when we land in Christchurch.

The majority of visitors to the Gateway were local so we were asked for multiply selfies.  I had a bit of fun and made sure I also got a selfie on my phone, I should have thought of this earlier as I’d have quite a collection by now.

On the way back to the hotel, we called into a design shop which had the best India keepsakes we’ve seen.  Turns out to be a store that I’d seen online before our trip.  BJ found a t-shirt that he liked but they didn’t have it instore in his size.  I thought I’d try ordering it online when we got back to the hotel.  The t-shirt was around $25 NZD and the freight would be $50!  Needless to say I didn’t order it online but instead, the next day I convinced the store to get one delivered from their warehouse overnight so we could pick it up before leaving for the airport.

The staff at our hotel were amazing.  They were constantly offering to help but not in the annoying way that we’ve struck in so many places were you feel that they’re just doing so in the hope of a tip.  These guys seemed to genuinely care about making our experience memorable.  Like many of the hotels and restaurants, ours didn’t have a liquor licence.  They did however serve ‘green tea’ aka Kingfisher beer in teacups, which we had to pay cash for.

Day 2 in Mumbai and we were on a mission to buy some of the metal dishes that our curries had been served in.  We walked via the Mumbai Central railway station is one of the busiest in the world with 1,250 local and long-distance trains arriving/departing from its 18 platforms each day, carrying over 3 million passengers.  The building is impressive, built by the British in 1887 to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee –  a great photo opportunity.

The markets are arranged in streets where every shop/stall sells exactly the same products.  We were looking for ‘Steel Street’ and after asking a few locals, we found it.  We walked from shop to shop, negotiating the best prices for the dishes we were after.  We’re no longer limited by the weight restrictions of the domestic flights so we added a few kgs to our luggage.

Bryce had read about an antiques market which we thought was worth a visit.  Turned out to be secondhand, mostly broken, furniture.  Their definition of ‘antiques’ is a little different to ours.

We had pizza and beer at Leopold Café that night – the site that was first attached during the 2008 terrorist attacks.  10 people were killed and the cafe was badly damaged (some of the damage is still evident) but the café defiantly reopened 4 days later.  We also walked back down to the Gateway to India to see it lit up at night.  Across from it is The Taj Mahal Palace Hotel which was the second and main target of the attacks.  A beautifully restored, five star luxury hotel that looks even more spectacular at night.

We had a late checkout on our final day in India.  We needed extra time to fit all the trinkets we’d bought into our packs and clean the sh*t off our shoes.

We took taxis to the Dhobi Ghat Laundromat.  This is said to be the world’s largest outdoor laundry with concrete wash pens, each fitted with a flogging stone, where, at it’s peak, over 7,000 people scrub, flog, dry and press garments from neighbourhood laundries, hotels and hospitals.

The laundry is surrounded by high-rise apartment buildings on two sides, and a road and rail tracks on the other two.  I overheard a guide telling a group of tourists that there are negotiations underway between property developers and the families who, for generations have earnt a living from the laundry. Evidently the developers are offering to provide apartments to the families in return for the laundry land.  The problem being that for many of the workers, this is the only work they know so they may end up with a lovely apartment but no means of income.

The rest of the afternoon was spent walking from our hotel across to the coastline and along the waterfront.  We cut through a park where there were multiple games of cricket underway.  Some looked to be official games with players in whites, others seemed to be groups of friends, maybe in their lunchbreak, having a bit of fun.  We’ve seen impromptu games of cricket everywhere we’ve travelled, often being played on dirty, dusty grounds with no green grass in sight.

Along the waterfront are a line up of Art Deco style buildings that would have been high-end apartments in their heyday.  Palm trees are dotted along the road and it looks like something out of an old Hollywood movie although they were all in need of a bit of repair (like most things in India).

We’d booked taxi’s for 7.30pm but we were ready to go by 6 so left early and it was lucky we did as it took one taxi 2 hours to get to airport, then over an hour to get through security and customs.  We had only about 20 minutes at the gate before our boarding time.

We only got a few hours sleep on the 5-hour flight to Singapore.  We had a full day in Singapore, arriving around 7am and leaving around 8pm so caught a train into the city and had breakfast at a very cool café that I’d found on the internet (Free the Robot).  Breakfast has been included in the price of most of our hotels and we can’t complain about the food.  Freshly made omelettes most mornings or pancakes/waffles and in some cases traditional Indian dosa or breads.  But after a month, I couldn’t resist a breakfast of hash browns, poached eggs, avocado and bacon.

We walked our way across town in 33 degrees, 60+% humidity to Raffles Hotel.  There was a queue to get into the Long Bay that wound down the stairs.  We decided we could do without the tradition of throwing our peanut shells on the floor and sat outside in the courtyard bar and enjoyed a Singapore Sling.

The temperature and lack of sleep was starting to get to us so we caught a train back to the airport and a quick visit to check out the huge water feature in the Jewel shopping mall that links to Changi airport.  Toni, Bryce and the boys went across to terminal 1 for a dip in the swimming pool, BJ and I headed to a lounge for a shower and to try to get a bit of sleep.  We’ve both had colds for the last 4-5 days and while I’m on the mend, BJ’s not great so wanted to get some rest before the flight back to NZ.

We’ve had an amazing trip and I feel a bit sad that it’s over.  India has been all that I imagined and at times so much more.  At other times we had to search through shit covered streets to find the good stuff, but it was worth it.  Our hats say it all …..”I Love My India”.

Our overnight train took us to a place called Madurai which is right down the bottom in South India, slightly east of the centre.  Our second-class sleeper wasn’t too bad although the toilet was another story.

We’d found out about Madurai after watching a documentary series hosted by Joanna Lumley.  She was born in India so has a wonderful connection with this country that comes through in the documentary.  One episode included a visit to Meenakshi Amman Temple – a Hindu temple that dates back 2,500 years!  It stretches over 14 acres, has over 4,500 pillars (almost a thousand in one building alone) and 14 towers (the southern tower being the tallest at 52 metres high).  Each tower is carved with the figures of thousands of brightly coloured gods that are repaired and repainted every 12 years.  It takes 4 years to complete the repaint.  Many Hindu people make the pilgrimage to this temple and in fact, as we drove to Kochi the next day we passed dozens of men walking along the road on their way to the temple.  There were areas were only Hindu’s were allowed and evidently there’s an evening ceremony every night (at least that’s what the brochures and websites say) but not on the night we were there.

Madurai is not on the travel plans of many western tourists but we’re pleased we made the effort to get there.

Across the road from the temple is a market that’s well known for tailoring.  There’s a line up of men sitting at old peddle sewing machines mending and making clothes.  Along from them are stalls with stacks of the most colourful cottons and silks.  We couldn’t resist and Toni, Bryce and I all got a couple of tops made.  Indian women in particular have such a love of bright colours and they mix and match combinations that I’d never think of, but they seem to make it work.  It was difficult to find fabrics that would blend into Christchurch city life so I’m not sure if my tops will get worn much when we get home.

The cuisine in Southern India is different to the North.  We’re enjoying the Dosa and Uttapam and a few less curries.  A restaurant called Murugan Idli Shop was mentioned on a few of the tourist websites I’d been searching so we tried that one night.  They specialise in a dry chutney spice mix that you mix with oil.  We had something similar at an Indian restaurant in London a few years ago and have never been able to find a recipe.  We bought a jar of the spice mix so hopefully we can get it back into NZ.

There’s a light and sound show at the Madurai palace which we thought might be a substitute for the Mysore palace lights that we’d missed.  The palace is a bit of a ‘fixer upper’ and although it looked better with the lights at night, the show itself shouldn’t rate even a 1 out of 5 on Trip Advisor. And when we woke up the next morning some of us were covered in bites from the little bugs (luckily not mosquitoes) that had been flying around – we hadn’t felt them while we were sitting there but they’d swelled to itchy, red spots on our feet and ankles.  Needless to say, we’ve all used insect repellent each evening since.

The company we used for our drivers from Madurai to Kochi was the same one that had mucked us around in Bengaluru so it’s not that surprising that one of the drivers was half an hour late.  Then after about half an hour of driving, when we felt like we’d just reached the outskirts of the city, they both decided they needed to stop for breakfast.  We’ve since concluded that our drivers were probably city taxi drivers normally and their driving skills certainly weren’t up to the road out to the coast.  Our driver was extremely aggressive, he passed every motorbike, tuk tuk, car, truck or bus in sight and couldn’t stand anyone passing us.  Blind corners didn’t seem to bother him and he’d toot his horn and pull out to pass, often having to dive back in to get out of the way of oncoming traffic.  Neither of the drivers knew how to drive on hills which was a bit of a problem given the road runs through a beautiful hilly range where tea and spices are grown.

Early on in the trip I had to tell the driver not to use his cell phone when driving after he almost ran off the road while checking his texts – BJ was beginning to reach for the steering wheel when the driver looked up and corrected the car.  BJ asked him a couple of times to ‘slow down’ and ended up having to yell at him and tell him that if he didn’t slow down BJ was going to take over the driving.  Our driver also had no idea where he was going.  This was the first time he’d driven from Madurai to Kochi.  In one town he looked at us and asked which of the two roads he should take, in another town he pulled over and asked some locals. The ‘no cell phone’ rule that I’d enforced probably didn’t help him as I suspect he planned to rely on Google maps.

About halfway through the journey we stopped at Abraham’s Spice Garden where we were greeted by Abraham himself.  He took us on a tour of his garden where he grows pepper, coffee, bananas, cocoa, cardamom, cinnamon, chillies, turmeric, ginger, macadamia nuts, lemons, papaya and probably other things that I’ve forgotten.  He had a remedy for most medical conditions, and he explained the growing and harvesting of each crop as he picked fruit or leaves for us to taste.  Abraham was such a kind gentle man and the lush green paradise that surrounds his home seemed fitting.

Back in the cars we passed through tea and rubber tree plantations and it would have been nice to take a leisurely drive through the area but instead we kept our eyes on the road so we could yell at the driver if necessary (although he did drive slower and more carefully after BJ’s stern words) and on google maps to make sure we stayed on track.

It was dark by the time we got to Kochi.  We were all exhausted.  Our accommodation is a 3 bedroom apartment with a small sea view.  Our hosts live in a smaller apartment next door and have been wonderful, cooking breakfast, organising washing and generally running around after us.  We planned for our time in Kochi to be relaxing with very little planned and that’s exactly what we’ve done so far.

We’ve had two days of walking around Forte Kochi – the tourist part of the city.  We’ve visited the Chinese fishing nets, meandered through Mattancherry and Jew Town where spice traders operated from in days gone by, been to a block printing workshop and managed to find a couple of good places to enjoy a cold beer.

There are strict laws in the state Kerala and moves were made over the last 5 years to make it a dry state – something we didn’t realise when we booked.  While some of the rules have been relaxed more recently with a change in political party there are still plenty of places that don’t have a licence to serve alcohol and strict rules about the amount you can transport or store in your home.  With the temperature at 33 degrees a cold beer is just what you need in the middle of the afternoon – if you can find it.

North Tower of Meenakshi Amman Temple – Madurai

Peddle sewing machines just like my grandmother used used to use

Chinese fishing nets – Fort Kochi

The old part of town – Fort Kochi

We left early from our guest house in Varanasi, following the porters, as we retraced our steps back to the taxi meeting point. We had a long travel day ahead of us.

About an hours drive to the airport, almost another hour to check in and get through security to catch our flight to Bengaluru.

The airport at Bengaluru (formerly Bangalore) is the most modern one we’ve travelled through in India. We’ve left the cold weather behind us and daytime temperatures for the rest of our trip will be 30+ degrees. There was an outdoor food court just outside the terminal which wouldn’t be out of place somewhere like Brisbane. After eating local food for the last 20 days we were pleased to see Subway – late lunch – sorted.

We had a bit of a mix up with one of our taxis and it took almost an hour to get on our way to Mysore.

The drive from Bengaluru to Mysore is 180km but at India speed it took over four and a half hours. Firstly we had to pass through Bengaluru.

The city seems modern and cleaner, with many high rise buildings visible, both commercial and apartment buildings. Many of the buildings looked freshly painted in bright colours and well maintained. There was a lot of construction underway – this appears to be a wealthy city.

Although we initially ended up on a dirt road, we soon joined a 3 lane highway but it was close to rush-hour so the lanes were clogged and we travelled about 20km in the first hour. There were very few cows and no fog but plenty of judder-bars and barriers randomly placed in the middle of the road, both there to slow traffic down.

We’d decided to visit Mysore after a suggestion from friends. The main attraction is the royal palace, built in the early 1900’s, it’s more modern than others we’ve seen and every night the palace gets lit up with over 98,000 lights that have been strung along the lines of the palace walls. There’s a light show that starts at 7pm and the palace remains illuminated until 8pm. As we got closer to Mysore it became apparent that we weren’t going to make it in time to see the palace all lit up. The combination of our flight being rescheduled, the taxi mix-up and the slow drive had worked against us.

We felt a bit under-dressed as we rocked up to our flash hotel. We had dinner at the restaurant by the pool and retired for the night. It had taken over 12 hours from when we left our guesthouse on Varanasi till when we arrived at our hotel in Mysore – a very long day.

BJ started the next day with a yoga class by the hotel pool (he was the only person that turned up for the class) then followed it up with a swim which Lewis joined him for. The breakfast buffet was a hit with the boys – especially the donuts.

We visited the palace in daylight. Only a relatively small part is open to the public. It’s so grand – painted bright teal, red, cream and gold, huge chandeliers, stained glass sky lights, pillars, archways and ceiling roses in every room and hallway. I could have walked around it all day but they shuffled us all through a set route and out the exit within an hour.

This was our first day of sightseeing in 30+ degrees. I’m reasonably pleased that we don’t have many more forts, palaces and temples to visit as it’s not so pleasant in the heat.

We decided to take it easy for the afternoon at a microbrewery BJ had tracked down – The Barge. The beer was cold and a change from Kingfisher and we had a late lunch to get us through our overnight train ride to Madurai – 13 hours in a second class, air conditioned sleeper. This time there’s no lockable cabins, we’re in an open carriage with curtains to close off our bunks. Only 2 tiers of bunks though (not the 3 tiers that some carriages have). Four of our bunks are together and the other two are elsewhere in the carriage. It’s luxury compared to some of the carriages we’ve looked into and it’s only 13 hours of my life – let’s hope the toilets are clean (who am I trying to kid – they’re bound to be disgusting).

Outside and Inside the Mysore Palace

Quick Selfie inside the palace

Waiting for the train

I’ve finally got some decent internet so will try to catch up on what we’ve been doing.

We’ve spent two days in Varanasi. Our guest house sat right on the banks of the Ganges with balconies off our rooms and a rooftop restaurant from which we could watch the activity on the river.

Our train had arrived right on time at 5am. Despite the cabins being pretty comfortable (and reasonably clean) I didn’t get a lot of sleep on the train.

The Varanasi train station was busy – many people sitting inside waiting for their train or laying on the floor, covered in blankets, where they’d slept the night. Outside tuk tuks and taxis came and went in a chaotic manner through the carpark of potholes.

Cars and even tuk tuks can’t get down the narrow streets in the riverside area so our taxi dropped us on a main street where we were greeted by a group of porters who carried our bags and guided us to Ganpati Guesthouse.

Sunrise is a time that many Hindu people bath in the Ganges. They have such strong belief in its holy power to cleanse. Each person seemed to have a slightly different ritual, and one group of girls just seemed to be having a splash around and a bit of a laugh.  It’s all fascinating to watch but on the other hand it feels like we’re prying into a very private part of their lives.

Many people come to Varanasi to die or their bodies are brought here within 24hrs of dying, so they can be cremated on the banks of the Ganges and their ashes released into the river. Otherwise, families will bring their loved ones’ ashes to release into the river. They believe that doing so will free the soul.

There’s a small crematorium upstream from our guesthouse and the main one downstream. We visited both. The main one is a massive, hot, smokey hive of activity with piles of wood, and multiple fires burning.  We got talking to a ‘guide’ and he walked us through, explaining the goings-on. We’d read enough to know that he’d likely ask for a ‘donation’ to fund the purchase of wood for a needy family (and that our ‘donation’ would most likely go into his back pocket) but we were willing to pay for an explanation of the ceremony and customs. Women are not allowed to attend the cremation ceremonies as they’re far too emotional and have been known to throw themselves on the fire at their husband’s cremation. BJ commented that he would expect nothing less from me when he dies. I was surprised to learn that some bodies (holy men, children and pregnant women) are not cremated, rather wrapped in cloth, weighed down with rocks and their body released into the river. It made the thought of bathing in the Ganges even harder to understand but none the less, on the way back to our guesthouse, we took our shoes off and tipped our feet in the river.  So far all toes have remain intact.

Varanasi seems like a city of contradictions. It holds such holy significance to so many yet the local and foreign tourists’ fascination with this place has resulted in things that seem disrespectful to their beliefs. Men dressed in holy robes sit along the banks of the river touting for money from tourists in return for taking their photo, women and children persistently try to sell fridge magnets and postcards (including images of cremations since no photos can be taken there). There’s an evening ceremony at the main ghat that’s a combination of religious ritual and pageantry, and an industry has been created for boat owners to cram as many people as possible onboard for a trip up the Ganga. I guess none of it would exist if people like us didn’t visit and if we didn’t visit there would be a serious reduction in the income generated in this city – a delicate balance to be found.

Then there’s the environmental impact of the way of life and the cremations.  We haven’t really seen blue sky since arriving in Varanasi and we can hardly see the bridge that crosses the river less than a kilometre away.  The Ganges is the six most polluted river in the world and yet it provides water to about 40% of India’s population (over 500 million people).  There are initiatives to clean the river and pollution in general, but so many of the actions that result in this pollution are ingrained in culture.

The saying ‘the world is a man’s toilet’ must have originated in India.  There are open urinals on some streets, or spots that men have just designated as a urinal through constant use.  At one such point along the Ganges, I covered my nose and mouth as I walked by to disguise the odour.  “The smell of India” a man close to me said as if slightly proud of the fact.

Varanasi is known for the beautiful silk that is hand woven here.  I’d done a bit of research online but struggled to find anywhere that we could see the weaving being done.  While we were walking through the streets on our second day, a well dressed man tried to get us to go with him to his silk shop.  I said I was keen to see the working looms and, after a bit of persuasion, he walked us about 5 minutes and started knocking on doors to see if someone would let us in for a look.  Most of the weaving is done by the Muslim community in their homes.  After being turned away from a couple of homes. one old many let us into his living room where the old loom was set up.  He then sat down at the loom and started weaving the bright pink silk into the most delicate pattern.  What a privilege to be  allowed into his home!  We were then guided back to the shop and felt an expectation to buy, which I didn’t mind doing given the experience we’d had.   The hand woven silk scarves worked out to be around NZD35 so I’m sure the weaver isn’t paid a lot for his time.  I was pleased we’d also left him a few rupees for sharing his home with us.

 

We’re on a bit of a mission today. When we booked, we didn’t realise Taj Mahal isn’t open on a Friday so we need to get to Agra today in time to visit the Taj before it closes – we couldn’t come all this way and not get to see it. We left Jaipur at 6am. The trip from Jaipur to Agra is 240km and takes over 4 hours – a good 2 lane motorway but this time it was thick fog and multiple trucks (many without tail lights or even reflectors) to weave between and slow us down.

Our driver said that in India you need 3 things when driving. A good horn, good brakes and good luck. I’d add a fourth thing – no cell phone!

As we drove out of Jaipur there were many small groups of people huddled around tiny fires on the side of the road. They burn whatever they can find to keep warm – sticks, cardboard, plastics – there’s plenty laying around on the streets. When we were out walking last night we saw people pouring engine oil on their fire for a bit of extra heat. Not exactly good for the environment but I can’t imagine global warming is a topic of discussion when you’re struggling to keep warm and survive. I can only assume that at least some of these people have slept around these fires overnight – an existence that’s difficult to comprehend.

On the way to Agra we took a detour to Chand Baori to see a stepwell that BJ was keen to photograph. Unfortunately the fog and lighting weren’t the best for photos but this is one impressive structure and well worth the detour. 3500 steps, over 13 stories deep, extending 30m (100 ft) below ground level and dating back to the 8th – 9th century.

Our accommodation in Agra is just over 1km from Taj Mahal. We’d purchased tickets online for 2.30pm for our visit to the Taj but strolled down a bit earlier which didn’t cause a problem with entry.

There are 1000’s of people but the grounds are vast and it’s only at the classic photo spots that it gets congested. There has been smog hanging over Taj Mahal for the last couple of days but the sky cleared while we were there and we had the most amazing view. I struggle to find words to describe the absolute beauty of the Taj and the story behind it only adds to the experience of being there. Every angle you view it is another photo opportunity and I had to consciously put my camera away and just soak in the moment. I hope I never forget this experience.

Our accommodation is a family run home-stay. The mother, daughter and son (no mention of the father) live downstairs and there must be 15 rooms on the floors above in the purpose built building. There was a rooftop area with a view to the Taj and the ground floor had a massive kitchen and dining table where they served meals. We decided to have dinner at the home-stay and sat next to a couple from Belgium, hearing about their travels and sharing stories of ours. Dinner was delicious, as was the breakfast. I could have easily stayed a few nights but we’d been told that, other than the Taj, Agra wasn’t great, so to get in and get out fast.

We checked out today, left our bags at the hotel for the day and firstly visited the Red Fort. Another impressive fort and palace, huge open areas with gardens and grass cover.

Next was what’s called the Baby Taj, a mausoleum built prior to Taj Mahal for the father of one of the royal wives.  The marble inlays on this mausoleum are more detailed than on the Taj and, with less people, it was very peaceful.

We also visited the gardens across the river from Taj Mahal for a photo opportunity. The clear sky of yesterday has been replaced by low smog so today’s photos are hazy.

Our tuk tuk driver was a bit of a hard case, calling the tuk tuk an ‘Indian helicopter’ and the dust ‘Indian talcum powder’. As he pointed out things along the way he kept referring proudly to “Incredible India”.

A car picked us up from the home-stay just before 6. Our packs got tied to the roof rack and we piled in for the 45 minute drive to Tundla train station. We had confirmed tickets for 4 first class beds in a cabin and 2 were wait-listed (with 2 second class sleepers as a backup). On the drive to the station the other 2 first class beds were confirmed so everything seemed to fall into place.

Our train was coming from Deli so there would only be a 2 minute stop for us (and everyone else) to get onto the train. We’d done as much online research as we could to be prepared for catching the train.

I’m not exactly sure where to start to explain what happened at the train station. We had about an hour and a half till our train’s scheduled arrival. The India Rail website was saying it was delayed 15-30 minutes. We settled ourselves on some seats on the platform while we worked out where our carriage was likely to pull up. The guys selling snacks said it would pull in a little further down the platform so we packed up and moved to another seat. On the seat in front of us, closer to the rails, a woman lay with a shawl draped over her head and upper body, her thin legs dangled over the end of the bench.  A black backpack sat an the ground behind her. We didn’t think much of it, people sleep everywhere at night and in the middle of the day. But after the first train roared by and she didn’t move, we started to wonder if all was ok. We took turns at looking to see if we could see signs of her breathing – nothing. Others had been sitting on the seats nearby when we arrived and plenty of people were walking by – none of them seemed to see anything wrong. We weren’t quite sure what to do. After a few minutes debating it among ourselves, a railway porter came along and stood watching her for a few minutes. We felt our responsibility to do something had transferred to him. He walked away. Someone else walked by and stood watching for a while. BJ spoke to him and he said “dead body” as if it was a regular occurrence. A couple of official looking guys eventually came down and lifted the shawl from her face, they photographed her and replaced the shawl. By now most of the people around us who were waiting for the train were watching this unfold and the two guys spoke to a few of them, presumably trying to find out some of the facts .The announcement that our train was arriving came over the speaker. At the same time people arrived with a stretcher, lifted the young woman onto it and walked her away down the platform.

We couldn’t believe what we’d just witnessed but there’s more to this story.

A young man had been sitting at a seat along from us with a small baby. At one stage we was talking to an older man – it all seemed very normal. After the officials had photographed the woman, the young man walked over to the backpack that sat beside the woman and took out what appeared to be a disposable nappy for the baby. We couldn’t understand why he’d left his bag away from where he was sitting. As the women’s body was carried away, the man came over, collected the backpack and, carrying the baby in his arms, followed the stretcher.

Our train had arrived, we hurried to the carriage, pushed our way to our cabins and breathed a sigh of relief that we’d made it on-board. Then we tried to process what we’d seen. Was the woman his wife? Why had he left her laying alone? Why hadn’t help arrived sooner? Was she ill and on her way to the Ganges to die?

Our train trip to Varanasi is 9 hours, plenty of time to try to reconcile something so sad. “Incredible India” – I’m not so sure.

Baby Taj

Jaipur is definitely not my favourite place so far.  It’s the capital city of Rajasthan, has a population of over 3 million and feels like a big, dirty city.  That said, we’ve checked out the tourist attractions, walked the streets and ticked a few things off our list.

Bryce and Lewis got the phone number of the tuk tuk driver that drove them from the train station to the hotel, so we messaged him, and he and a friend picked us up from the hotel for a day of sightseeing.

The main thing we wanted to see was the Amber Fort but there were a few other things along the way.

The Amber (Amer) Fort is located in the small town of Amer, just over 10km from Jaipur.  Built out of red sandstone, it, like most of the tourist attractions, seems to have had minimal maintenance.  It sits proudly on a hill, overlooking Maota Lake which would have been the main water supply to the fort back in the day.  Walled cobblestone paths zigzag up the hill to the fort and we joined the crowds of people making their way up the hill.  Every now and then our path crossed with the procession of elephants that were carting people up to the fort.  The poor elephants didn’t look particularly impressed with their day job but until tourists stop paying money for such activities, this will no doubt continue as the locals make a living.

The fort is huge and parts are decorated with intricate mosaic tiling and colourful painting giving insight into the original grandeur of this place.  Other areas are open to the elements and well weathered.  There’s a need for steps to be taken if the structure is going to survive another few hundred years.

Very close to the fort is a stepwell.  BJ had been wanting to photograph one and had researched where a few were.  This one was only about 6-7 levels deep, so not the largest one in the area, but BJ got his photo opportunity.

Our tuk tuk drivers were keen to be tour-guides for the day so they took us to what we were told was an “elephant sanctuary” where rescued elephants were looked after.  There was in fact only one elephant there and no sign that it actually lived on the property.  We were able to have our photo taken, feed or pat the elephant, all at a price.  We opted not to stay.

Next stop was a block printing workshop.  I’d read about block printing when we were researching places to go in India.  The town of Bahru, about 30km out of Jaipur, is famous for this art where fabric is stamped using hand carved wooden stamps with layer upon layer of coloured ink being added to make up the design.  We saw two people stamping fabric, adding different colours that transformed the design.  We were then ushered into a side room so they could try to sell us scarves, bedspreads etc.  I suspect the tuk tuk drivers were on commission, but they weren’t getting anything out of us today.

Last stop on our tuk tuk tour was Jal Mahal – the Floating Palace.  I don’t know a lot about this but it was a great photo opportunity.

We got our tuk tuk drivers to drop us in the main part of the old pink city.  It was now mid afternoon so almost midnight in NZ so we celebrated NZ New Year having a beer and fries at a rooftop bar overlooking Hawa Mahal, the Palace of the Winds.   This is a palace on the edge of the City Palace, extending the women’s chambers.  It’s made up of 953 small windows, decorated with latticework originally intended to allow royal lades to observe everyday life and celebrations in the street without being seen (given they were required to cover their faces in public).

From the rooftops of buildings around us, people have been flying small paper kites. They’re not always easy to spot in the smog but when we looked closely, at times there would be 20-30 in an area.

Day 2 of our sightseeing was a bit of a walking tour around the pink city including a visit to the City Palace and Jamta Manta – a collection of astronomical instruments built in the 1700’s, including worlds largest stone sundial.

The palace buildings themselves were similar to what we have seen elsewhere however they had a fantastic collection of art and also a textile museum with exquisite garments from the past. The embroidery on some of the royal gowns are so intricate, it must have taken months to hand stitch, especially given that one of the maharajas was a big lad so there was a lot of fabric needed to dress him.

We got invited into a temple that overlooked the hustle of the bizarre below. It was a peaceful retreat, away from the constant approaches from the store owners – or so we thought – this temple had a gift shop which we somehow ended up in on the way out.

Most of the time we’re patient with people touting for business but today I just wasn’t in the mood for it. There are only so many times you can say ‘no thank you’ before you just want to say ‘f**k off’!

We ate dinner at a place called Sweet Dreams – dodgy name but excellent food – then back to our hotel for an early night ahead of our early start tomorrow.

Amer Fort

Floating Palace

Hawa Mahal

Block Printing

The start of our day didn’t exactly go to plan but that’s ok – we’re on holiday.

Bryce & Lewis had left the hotel early to catch a train to Jaipur. We’d booked what we thought was a 7-seater but, as we found out in Delhi, not all 7-seaters are created equal. So, as a back-up, Bryce had booked a couple of train tickets. I think Bryce secretly just wanted another opportunity to use India’s rail system.

The rest of us got an extra couple of hours sleep and cold shower. This hotel was doing its bit to conserve energy and hot water is only available between 7 and 9 in the morning and 8 and 10 at night. The guy who flicks the switch must have slept in and no matter how long I stood waiting, there was to be no hot water.

We weren’t exactly sure how to get to the meeting place our driver would be at so Toni had asked reception to book us two tuk tuks. Maybe our request was lost in translation or perhaps booking tuk tuks was also the job of the under-performing hot water guy, but either way, there were no tuk tuks. BJ managed to track down a couple and we were on our was to Gulabh Bagh parking to meet our driver. Turns out there are a few parking spots at Gulabh Bagh and after visiting a couple and making a few phone calls we found the right one. Our tuk tuk driver seemed to enjoy the challenge and was laughing and smiling constantly. Turns out he was stoned and he lit up another joint once he’d safely delivered us to our taxi driver. We hit the road about half an hour later than planned, and were on 2-3 lane highway most of the way so it was faster going than our last trip – the 400+km only took a bit over 6 hours

During the first hour we passed several hundred yards selling marble and granite. Each yard had a small office and slabs of marble/granite in every colour imaginable leaning against racks. Only a few yards had processing facilities, most were just selling and it’s difficult to imagine who’s buying from them all.

Our hotel in Jaipur is a bit of a shocker. Not the cleanest and Toni & I contemplated visiting the local hardware shop and picking up a bucket & scrubbing brush. I guess it had to happen at some stage which is why we brought sleeping bags!

We went for a bit of a walk to get orientated, but we were all pretty tired after the travel day so had an early dinner at the hotel restaurant (which appeared to be the cleanest part of the place).

The hotel’s on a busy road and the windows aren’t exactly sound proof (or particularly weather proof for that matter), lucky we’re all so tired!

We decided to take it easy today so Bryce did a bit of research about historical sights and we set off on foot for “Bryce’s Udaipur Tours”.  Essentially, we walked down one branch of the lake, visited a couple of ghats (steps leading to the water’s edge), crossed over a footbridge and checked out the area opposite our hotel.  There seem to be some up-market hotels and restaurants across the water from our hotel, at least they’d looked pretty flash from our hotel when they’re lit up with fairy lights at night.

We get invited into every shop we pass.  Each shop owner has their own sales pitch to try to entice us inside.  It becomes a bit of a game trying to walk by without being noticed.

Upaipur is referred to as the ‘Venice of the East’ and it’s certainly very picturesque – we’ve taken plenty of photos. It was a pretty warm day so it was nice just walking around checking out the sights.

We visited another Hindu temple which is just down the street from the Palace – much smaller than other’s we’ve visited but they’re all still interesting.

Our late lunch consisted of a Dosa which is a large thin, slightly crispy ‘crepe’ made from a fermented rice batter.  In the middle is a small handful of mashed potato, mixed with spices.  It comes from the south of India so we’re looking forward to travelling down south and hopefully finding more places that serve them.  BJ tried a Uttapur, made from the same rice batter, it’s smaller and thicker, sort of like a savoury pancake, and was topped with diced onion before flipping it.

Jacob was still recovering from his dodgy stomach, so the boys decided to eat pizza for dinner at the hotel restaurant.  Bryce, Toni, BJ and I booked into a cooking school that we’d seen the day before.  It was with Shashi, a woman who had set up the cooking school to support herself and her two sons after her husband died 18 years ago.  Both of her sons and one of her nephews, who was visiting for the holidays, helped with the food preparation.  The kitchen is in her home which is above a jewellery store on one of the main shopping streets in Udaipur.  She is an incredible kind, gracious woman and it felt like quite a privilege to be cooking in her home.  We started with Masala Chai (tea) spiced up with cardamom, peppercorns and ginger.  I’ve never been a huge fan of milky tea but this was next level and I loved it.  We then made vegetable pakora (basically battered & deep fried vegetables) with coriander chutney and mango chutney.  Next came the ‘magic sauce’ which is a basic curry sauce from which you can make just about any curry.  Three curries, perfect rice and bread (chappati, potato parantha, sweet parantha and the most amazing cheese and tomato naan) and we sat down to eat what we’d made.  The food was restaurant quality and I can’t wait to get home to try out the recipes. This has definitely been a highlight for me.

View across the lake back to our hotel

Dosa for lunch

Cooking School – yum!

Other than the magnificent city landscape, the main attraction in Udaipur is the City Palace.  Construction of the Palace began in 1553 and the various Maharanas have added to it during each reign.  The age of the Palace shows in the chipped and cracked walls, faded and flaking paint and well-worn stone floors and paving.  But there are still glimpses of the flamboyant style and vibrant colour that would have graced the Palace back in the day.

It’s a popular tourist attraction, with mainly local tourists visiting during their winter holidays (26 Dec to 1 Jan).  People ignored the ‘silence please’ signs and it was difficult at times to even hear the audio guide above the chatter.  We shuffled, single file, through the tidy corridors, and waited for people to finish taking selfies so we could photograph the features.  We were pleased someone had recommended visiting the Palace early in the morning before the crowds arrive.

They were setting up for a wedding in the largest of the Palace courtyards.  Tables covered in red and gold clothes, groups of men sitting cross legged on the floor assembling foliage for centerpieces for the tables, lights strung across the courtyard and a central canopy with couches which we assume is where the ceremony will be held.  It looked like it was going to be a flash affair.

So far we had all done pretty well with the food and hygiene.  Lewis has had a bit of an upset stomach for a couple of days but not bad enough to stop him enjoying the trip.  Jacob on the other hand felt a bit squirmy while we were having breakfast, threw up on the street outside the Palace and spent the rest of the day in bed!  He’d eaten the same food as the rest of us so we suspect he might have picked something up from his hands.  The streets are cleaner in Udaipur than in other places however there are still times when we’ve walked through what smells like raw sewage.  Then, whenever we enter a Temple we have to take off our shoes, it’s a recipe for disaster.  We’ve all been a bit more vigilant with the hand sanitizer today.

We stayed relatively close to the hotel in the afternoon to keep an eye on Jacob.  That meant checking out the shopping.  Lewis & Bryce both picked up leather satchels for less than NZD40.00 each, BJ bought a couple of Damascus knives and I found an elaborate sari (well actually not a full sari because I’ve found out they’re 6.5m long,, which seems like a lot of fabric so I settled on just a shawl).

We decided to give our stomachs a rest and found a pizza restaurant for dinner.  We’ve had curry every night for the last 9 nights!  We couldn’t resist trying the cashew nut curry though which was absolutely delicious – will have to find a recipe so we can try making it at home.

Some photos from the City Palace

We said goodbye to Singhvi Haveli and loaded ourselves and our luggage into tuk tuk’s.  Cars can’t make it up the narrow ‘streets’ to our guest house so, with the help of our host, we’d arranged to meet our taxi drivers at a roundabout about 5 minutes away.

We’d originally booked one vehicle but, after a day driving around in a similar vehicle in Delhi, it was obvious that us and our luggage weren’t going to fit, so we swapped for 2 small cars, 3 of us in each.

It’s 249km from Jodhpur to Udaipur but it takes almost 5 hours!  The slow drive is due mainly to the condition of the road but other contributing factors are:

• Pedestrians walking down the side of the road, including the two-lane motorway, women in colourful saris carrying anything from a child in their hip to a bundle of sticks on their head.
• Cattle, either on their own or in groups, wandering along the side of the road and across the road whenever they like;
• Small villages to weave our way through;
• Local farmers walking their mob of goats along the road; and
• The odd camel carrying huge loads of looked like straw.

The car had obviously driven down these roads many times before leading to a serious lack of suspension.  The driver compensated for the suspension by picking the smoothest part of the road to drive on and avoiding potholes.  As a result, he spent half the time either driving on the wrong side of the road or at least straggling the centre line.  The on-coming cars, trucks and motorbikes didn’t seem to worry, they just flashed their lights, tooted their horn and slowed, if necessary, to let us pass by safely.

We stopped after about an hour so our driver could get a cup of tea.  He’d been up early to drive from his home in Udaipur to pick us up in Jodhpur.  Where he stopped was a temple to the “Bullet God” – the Royal Enfield Bullet that is.  There was a motobike in a glass enclosure and people were praying and making offerings.  There’s a God for everything over here.

About 3 hours into our drive we stopped at Ranakpur Jain Temple, construction of which started in the 15^th century.  It was a stunning temple, like an ancient version of the Akshardham Themple that we’d visited in Delhi, but built some 500 years earlier.

From Ranakpur the road took us up into hills, similar in height to the drive to Hanmer.  The road narrowed to not much more than a single lane and we had to slow each time there was oncoming traffic.  There wasn’t much room for overtaking but that didn’t stop some drivers.

Udaipur “City of Lakes” is on the edge of Lake Pichola, population around 500,000, so a small town by India standards.  Most of the buildings are white, including the palaces in the centre of the lake, one of which is now a NZD1,000 a night hotel.

Our hotel is not so flash but very comfortable.  It sits just back from the lakeside but high enough so that the rooftop restaurant has an uninterrupted views of the lake and surrounding buildings, most of which get lit up at night.

After sitting in a car for the day we decided to have a walk around.  Udaipur is definitely the most touristy place we’ve visited so far.  There are shops everywhere, many of them selling the same as the other shops down the road so there’s plenty of opportunity for negotiating a good price.  We realised early on that they were well versed in their sales pitch.  The first question was normally “what country are you from” and as soon as we said “New Zealand”, they greeted us with Kia ora.  Some even had stories about NZ, one tailor evidently has a range of clothes in a fashion show in either Wellington or Waiheke Island next week and one artist’s exhibition opens in Te Papa on 23 January!  They’ve certainly done their homework about NZ although obviously don’t know just how small our country is and therefore that we know they’re full of sh*t!

We looked around the shops, got an idea of prices but didn’t buy – we have two full days in Udaipur so plenty of time to purchase.

Road trip Jodhpur to Udaipur

Sunset from the rooftop of our hotel in Udaipur