Chaos, Car Horns and Curries!
Hello to you once again.
I hope this email finds you all fit, well and healthy. Lynn and I are both fine and after 12 days in India neither of us has yet had the much anticipated Delhi-belly! Long may the run (and not the runs) continue, that's what I say!
Before I get started proper and whilst I'm on the subject of food (sort of), I can only say that the tastes and smells of India's cuisine are even more exquisite than they are at home. I've been looking for the good old English "Balti" but no one seems to have exported it the other way and started cooking it here!
Well, we arrived in Mumbai 12 days ago and we're now in Delhi in a little hotel that is tightly nestled between the New Delhi Railway Station and the Pahar Ganj Cemetery. Chaotic and noisy on one side, deathly silent on the other - Atleast if I get mowed down by a train they won't have far to take me!
Before I recount what we've been up to since our belated arrival here I'd just like to say that it's nice to get back to a country where I can write about the experience of actually being somewhere culturally different to home. It was hard to make the New Zealand and Australia episodes interesting for me, it felt more like I was just writing a long list of places we went to rather than what it feels like to actually travel in these countries. A bus ride in Peru can make far better reading than a bus ride in New Zealand for instance, simply because anything can (and usually does) happen and it's these little events that stay in the memory and really give a feel for the country. In NZ and Australia, lovely though they are, travelling is just a little too predictable to make an interesting tale.
So, India...
We arrived in Mumbai nearly an hour late at 20:15 in the evening and despite the fact that the sun had set nearly 2 and a half hours before, it's still 32C outside. Sydney was 32C yesterday too but this feels much, much worse. The reason is that unlike Sydney, Mumbai is desperately humid. Within minutes of landing and before we're even through customs great rivers of perspiration are trickling down my face and neck and the small of my back and my clothes are saturated and clinging to me.
Taxis come in two varieties - black with a yellow roof are the most common but about 1 percent are blue with a white roof and these are the luxurious air-conditioned ones. We pre-paid at the taxi counter in the airport and got one of the rare blue and white vehicles. The journey from the airport to the part of the city where our hotel is located is estimated to take between 45 and 90 minutes depending on the severity of the traffic. Our journey took 90 minutes but had less to do with the traffic than it did with the fact that our driver didn't have a clue where he was going. We got in the taxi -
"Hotel Lawrence, please. It's on Sri Sai Baba Marg Road which is located immediately behind the Prince of Wales Museum". This much information I passed on helpfully from the pages of my guidebook before we set off.
After an hour of driving the frustrated driver pulled over and announced that he didnt have a clue where the hotel was. I again mentioned that it was behind the Prince of Wales Museum, apparently the main museum in Mumbai and surely, surely, he knows where that is. It doesn't seem to help. We proceed to drive at 2mph up and down every street, the increasingly irate driver eventually barking at poor passers-by -
"Hotel Lawrence! Tell me, where is Hotel Lawrence!"
"Not in this district, sir", was the most useful reply. Finally, in despair, he turned his frustrations on me and said it was all my fault we were lost because I'd told him the wrong district. It was at this point that I also lost all patience. I retorted with a -
"I told you the name of the hotel, the name of the road it's on, that it is behind the Prince of Wales Museum which according to my guidebook is the main museum in Mumbai and still you can't find the bloody place! How can I have told you the wrong district? I don't even know the names of any of the friggin' districts. You're the one who should know where he's going, not me, you live here AND you're a bloody taxi-driver!" After this little outburst he didn't speak to me for the rest of the journey. We both sat and fumed as he drove about. When he wanted to shout at a passer-by "WHERE IS HOTEL LAWRENCE?" he'd just point at my window indicating that I should wind it down. Eventually, after another 30 minutes we found the hotel. At this point he spoke to me again -
"Can I have a tip, please? I've been driving you up and down round here for ages". I gave him a paltry 10 rupees (he wanted 100) and suggested he put it towards a street map of Mumbai. He took the 10 rupees and stormed off, dismissing us with a wave of his hand and a barrage of curses. I have since learn't a very polite comeback and had I known it at the time I should undoubtedly have used it -
"Sir, I hope you have 10 beautiful daughters and they all marry well!" but at the time a simple "Bog off!" had to suffice! [In India the father of the bride has to pay a dowry to the groom's family hence having 10 beautiful daughters would be both a blessing and a very expensive curse!]
Lawrence Hotel is in a rundown office block on the 3rd floor, accsesible up a dark, narrow stairway. It only has 9 rooms, all basic, stark and in need of repair but it's clean and cheap and a refuge from the streets below. The heat is absolutely relentless all night but atleast we have a noisy ceiling fan to blow it all around a bit! It's 23:00 when we finally clamber into bed that night (03:30 Australian time) so we both fall sleep immediately.
We spend 3 further days in Mumbai and, after the heat, the first thing that hits you is just how chaotic and noisy it is here. Mumbai is home to 18 million people and what seems like the same number of vehicles. To get anywhere involves squeezing between the bodies of millions of people or squeezing between the bumpers of millions of cars. It is dreadfully hot and hard work to get anywhere and quite disorientating too as landmarks become lost behind crowds of people and walls of traffic. The noise too is simply mind-blowing. It's like an incensed football crowd and a Formula 1 Grand Prix, both amplified and played simultaneously and accompanied by a full orchestra of car horns! And it's like this 24 hours a day, 365 days of the year! Another thing about all the people is that being a foreigner, and in Lynn's case a blonde female one, means you stick out like a sore thumb and the people here aren't shy of staring at anyone vaguely different. So, on top of the fact that there are so many people, they all seem to be facing inwards so as to give the impression that you are the very centre of a circle of faces closing in on you for as far as you can see.
The thing is, as I mentioned at the beginning of the last paragraph, this is what you notice first. After you start to grow accustomed to the noise and the people and the constant attention you begin to realise that the stares aren't malevolent or predatory, the people are smiling and talkative and they want to know where you're from and what you think of India. They aren't staring at you in a threatening manner, it's quite simply curiosity and they're just very open about showing it. Coming from a country where privacy is respected it's still hard to feel entirly comfortable in these situations but when you finally understand the situation, it greatly helps!
Another reason the streets are so busy is that this is where the people live. The old, the young, the homeless, the unemployed, the beggars and the cripples - it accounts for a vast proportion of the people here and they simply have no where else to go. I had been led to believe that the begging in India was relentless and persistent and in a way it is, but not by the same person. Once you say no to someone (or ignore them for long enough!) they move on and are soon replaced by another. And their behaviour is never threatening. You don't feel that someone's going to pull a knife out and ask for your wallet. These people are proud and respectable people - they're just very poor and hungry.
It's hard not to feel sorry for these people but at the end of the day what can you do? If I gave a few rupees to every starving child and pleading mother would I be helping the situation? Or am I just worsening the begging problem? Sure, I could be giving someone a much needed meal but I can't save them from this life. Tomorrow it's exactly the same scenario only a little bit more persistent and by a few more beggars than today. A couple of days into our stay here I gave 10 rupees to a couple of young street kids. They were about 4 and 6 years old. They were dirty and scruffy but polite and told me they hadn't eaten anything all day (it was about 20:00 in the evening). They asked for 10 rupees (about 15p) and I gave it to them. They ran off smiling but then 2 minutes later reappeared and asked for another 10 rupees and were very relentless. So, what did I solve? In the end they went away unhappy that I didn't give them any more and I was annoyed that what I gave to them just spurred them on to beg for even more. At the end of the day you've just got to accept that the solution to India's poverty doesn't lie in your own pockets. It's hard to ignore them, but if the government can do it....
Anyway, we spent 3 days in Mumbai seeing the sights and then we headed north on the overnight sleeper train to the city of Ahmadabad. Getting the train tickets was a good introduction to Indian bureaucracy gone mad! We turned up at the railway booking office which is hidden away in a building on the opposite side to the station through an unsigned side-door and up a staircase. One of the desks was for foreign tourists only and we found out it was the one at the end. We asked for 2 tickets on the overnight train to Ahmadabad and this prompted a form written in Hindi to be thrust under our noses inwhich we had to fill out every piece of information imaginable - names, addresses, hair colour, shoe size etc. Did we want 1st Class, 2nd Class, Air-con, 2 tier bunks, 3 tier bunks, sleeper class, unreserved seating. How are we paying? Cash. Where did we get the money? ATM. I need tp write the ATM serial number and transaction receipt on the form too. Bloody hell, where did I put the transaction receipt? Copy of passport, yep. Copy of Indian visa, yep. All details copied out in duplicate on the form... What a palaver but eventually, we emerged with a pair of tickets!
Getting to the station was an even bigger nightmare though. The station is about 3km from our hotel and we rather stupidly only gave ourselves 90 minutes to get there! It was quite possibly the worst taxi ride I've ever experienced and we got to the station with only minutes to spare before the train left. We spent the majority of the taxi journey sat bumper to bumper unmoving along with the rest of Mumbai's 17,999,999 other vehicles. We couldn't even get out to walk because we were packed in just as tightly side by side. To give you an idea how close we were - if the guy in the car next to us opened his car window and I opened ours I could have reached across and touched the shoulder of his passenger! We were quite simply stuck where we sat. When we did eventually move again we managed to force our way to the middle of the road and weaved and barged and muscled our way through the honking vehicles, spending most of our time heading into oncoming traffic in fear for our lives!
Our train journey from Mumbai to Ahmadabad is in 2nd class, air conditioned, 2-tier bunk bed, 4-berth compartments. Thankfully it was far more comfortable than I had imagined it would be and it was also on-time leaving and arriving. A guard came around soon after leaving Mumbai and handed out sheets and pillows and a blanket for each bed and we slept fairly well to the rocking of the train.
Ahmadabad is another sprawling city of noise and chaos, though thankfully not quite on the scale of Mumbai. It is however hotter than Mumbai with an average daytime temperature whilst we're there of 38C. We stay in a place called King's Palace Hotel which is just over twice the price of Hotel Lawrence but 10 times better. We spend 6 hours on our first day there accomplishing 2 normally simple tasks. The 2 tasks are finding and getting money from an ATM machine and buying another train ticket to Udaipur for a couple of days time. It's nearly evening when, tasks accomplished, we finally return to the hotel. I decide I want to find an internet cafe but Lynn's had enough for one day so stays in the hotel watching TV. The hotel manager tells me there's an internet cafe just down the road "a few buildings away". I walk up and down the road and looking all over for this elusive internet cafe but can't find it so in the end I go back in and ask the manager again where it is.
"Oh you'll need to take an auto-rickshaw", he announces, "because it'll take you 20 minutes to walk there". As if my patience hasn't been tried enough today already!
I spend an hour on t'internet before heading out to find an auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuk) back to the hotel. I stop a couple of drivers but they don't know where the hotel is. I can't remember the address either as so far today all I've had to say is "King's Palace Hotel" and off we go. It doesn't matter, someone will know in a minute I'm sure. I ask a third driver. He doesn't know either. A passer-by stops and asks what the problem is. I explain that I'm trying to get back to my hotel but I can't remember what road it's on and the tuk-tuk driver doesn't know either. I also add that it's not a problem, I've gone on 3 tuk-tuks to the hotel today already and they all knew where it was so I'll just keep stopping drivers until one knows. He doesn't accept this as a solution and vows to help me find my hotel. More people are asked and within a minute a small crowd of curious onlookers has gathered around us. A policeman and also a security guard from a nearby hotel are dragged into the circle of people and small arguaments and discussions carry on all around me and all with the goal of finding the address of my hotel. I am quite embarassed at the escalation of this trivial problem and try to sneak off unnoticed but all these people want to help me and I'm not allowed to leave. Eventually a unanimous verdict is reached (I don't know what it is though) and I am escorted off by the security guard and a few others down the road. The security guard marches me into the hotel he works for and I am made to confess to the hotel manager like a naughty schoolboy to the headmaster my unfortunate predicament and sizeable entourage. Eventually the people disperse and the hotel manager sets about phoning round to locate this hotel. Some minutes later I have a scrap of paper with the hotel's address and phone number written on it.
"Thank you very much for your help" I say before heading back outside. Thankfully the crowds have now gone and I can hail a tuk-tuk in relative peace. One stops -
"King's Palace Hotel, please" I say.
"Yes Sir" he replies before I clamber in and we head off. 5 minutes later we're at the hotel and he didn't once ask me for the address!
On our second day in Ahmadabad I decide to head down to the market to take a few photos. India is such a beautiful country and that's mainly down to it's people. They are so charming and proud and their clothes so colourful and beautiful. Basically they are about the most photogenic people I can think of! The difficulty arrives with the fact that it's nigh on impossible to sit quietly and invisibly and take a few pictures. Everywhere you go, a small crowd of curious onlookers gather. And once a camera is pulled out you can definately forget it! Every time you go to take a picture a group of children will leap into the frame with beaming smiles and waving hands. Even the adults beckon for you to take a photograph of them. The men smooth their clothes and stand proud, the women shyly smile and pretend they're not so keen but show such joy when you share with them the picture on the screen on the back of the camera afterwards. It's hard to resist their enthusiasm and there are always cries of "Just one more photo!" as you walk away. The best part is definately seeing the kids faces when you show them their picture. As soon as the photo is taken they rush forward and you're surrounded by giggling faces as they strain to be first to see themselves on screen.
The train from Ahmadabad to Udaipur is not quite so comfortable as the last one as we are in 2nd class, no air-con, 3-tier bunk bed, 6 berth compartments. It's not uncomfortable though and the other 4 beds are occupied by a friendly family who are going to Udaipur for a long weekend and we chat to them before it's time to go to sleep.
In Udaipur we stay at Hotel Rajdarshan which is 3 times the price of the King's Palace Hotel and 8 times the price of Hotel Lawrence. It is lovely even if it is quite a chunk of our daily budget. Our tuk-tuk driver from the train station to the hotel is called Anwar. On the way to the hotel we warm to him immensely and when he offers to show us the sights of Udaipur this afternoon we jump at the chance. We visit the Moti Magri (Udaipur's first palace, now a ruin), The Gardens of the Princesses (a formerly royal garden that the king had made so that his daughter had somewhere private to entertain her female friends). Anwar told us that it was still open to women only so Lynn could go in but we would have to wait outside. He then said he knew where we could hire a burqa and buy a couple of grapefruits from if I really wanted to go inside myself. I nearly (not quite, but nearly) fell for it before he admitted amongst much laughter that the gardens are open to anyone these days! We went to the Jain Temple (amazing), the Royal Cemetary (even more impressive than the Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires) which is full of beautiful and very grand monuments to the dead kings and queens, a few handicraft shops and the local folk museum. It lasted for 4 hours and afterwards Anwar was very shy about asking for money for it. In the end he said 400 rupees (just under 5 pounds) would make him very happy. The next day we asked him for another tour! We spent 8 hours in his company this time visiting the City Palace (which is still home to the current royal family), a boat ride on Lake Pichola stopping off for a quick walk around Jag Mandir Palace in the middle of the lake. We went to the Crystal Gallery (thankfully none of those ghastly crystal animal ornaments which I despise!), the king's vintage car museum (about 20 vehicles and he still drives them all about town too!) and finally a trip up to the Monsoon Palace, a deserted palace on a hilltop overlooking Udaipur city for sunset. Again it was a spectacular trip. So, if anyone ever finds themselves in Udaipur let me know because I've got Anwar's mobile number and email address should you require a tour, it comes with our highest recommedation!
We left Udaipur on Tuesday 24th October and headed, again on the overnight train, to New Delhi. It was a 12 hour journey and this time in 2nd class, air-conditioned, 3-tier, 8 bed compartments. This time there was a screaming child in the compartment so the journey wasn't as pleasant as one would have wished, shall we say!
And that's about it for now. As I said, we're now in New Delhi and we're staying in a hotel called "Mohan International Hotel" which sounds far more grand than it actually is but is pleasant enough. Tomorrow we have friends joining us here in India for a couple of weeks which is why I wanted to get this blogsite up-to-date before they arrive. So, next update in about 2 weeks time!
Bye for now and take care,
Rich
I hope this email finds you all fit, well and healthy. Lynn and I are both fine and after 12 days in India neither of us has yet had the much anticipated Delhi-belly! Long may the run (and not the runs) continue, that's what I say!
Before I get started proper and whilst I'm on the subject of food (sort of), I can only say that the tastes and smells of India's cuisine are even more exquisite than they are at home. I've been looking for the good old English "Balti" but no one seems to have exported it the other way and started cooking it here!
Well, we arrived in Mumbai 12 days ago and we're now in Delhi in a little hotel that is tightly nestled between the New Delhi Railway Station and the Pahar Ganj Cemetery. Chaotic and noisy on one side, deathly silent on the other - Atleast if I get mowed down by a train they won't have far to take me!
Before I recount what we've been up to since our belated arrival here I'd just like to say that it's nice to get back to a country where I can write about the experience of actually being somewhere culturally different to home. It was hard to make the New Zealand and Australia episodes interesting for me, it felt more like I was just writing a long list of places we went to rather than what it feels like to actually travel in these countries. A bus ride in Peru can make far better reading than a bus ride in New Zealand for instance, simply because anything can (and usually does) happen and it's these little events that stay in the memory and really give a feel for the country. In NZ and Australia, lovely though they are, travelling is just a little too predictable to make an interesting tale.
So, India...
We arrived in Mumbai nearly an hour late at 20:15 in the evening and despite the fact that the sun had set nearly 2 and a half hours before, it's still 32C outside. Sydney was 32C yesterday too but this feels much, much worse. The reason is that unlike Sydney, Mumbai is desperately humid. Within minutes of landing and before we're even through customs great rivers of perspiration are trickling down my face and neck and the small of my back and my clothes are saturated and clinging to me.
Taxis come in two varieties - black with a yellow roof are the most common but about 1 percent are blue with a white roof and these are the luxurious air-conditioned ones. We pre-paid at the taxi counter in the airport and got one of the rare blue and white vehicles. The journey from the airport to the part of the city where our hotel is located is estimated to take between 45 and 90 minutes depending on the severity of the traffic. Our journey took 90 minutes but had less to do with the traffic than it did with the fact that our driver didn't have a clue where he was going. We got in the taxi -
"Hotel Lawrence, please. It's on Sri Sai Baba Marg Road which is located immediately behind the Prince of Wales Museum". This much information I passed on helpfully from the pages of my guidebook before we set off.
After an hour of driving the frustrated driver pulled over and announced that he didnt have a clue where the hotel was. I again mentioned that it was behind the Prince of Wales Museum, apparently the main museum in Mumbai and surely, surely, he knows where that is. It doesn't seem to help. We proceed to drive at 2mph up and down every street, the increasingly irate driver eventually barking at poor passers-by -
"Hotel Lawrence! Tell me, where is Hotel Lawrence!"
"Not in this district, sir", was the most useful reply. Finally, in despair, he turned his frustrations on me and said it was all my fault we were lost because I'd told him the wrong district. It was at this point that I also lost all patience. I retorted with a -
"I told you the name of the hotel, the name of the road it's on, that it is behind the Prince of Wales Museum which according to my guidebook is the main museum in Mumbai and still you can't find the bloody place! How can I have told you the wrong district? I don't even know the names of any of the friggin' districts. You're the one who should know where he's going, not me, you live here AND you're a bloody taxi-driver!" After this little outburst he didn't speak to me for the rest of the journey. We both sat and fumed as he drove about. When he wanted to shout at a passer-by "WHERE IS HOTEL LAWRENCE?" he'd just point at my window indicating that I should wind it down. Eventually, after another 30 minutes we found the hotel. At this point he spoke to me again -
"Can I have a tip, please? I've been driving you up and down round here for ages". I gave him a paltry 10 rupees (he wanted 100) and suggested he put it towards a street map of Mumbai. He took the 10 rupees and stormed off, dismissing us with a wave of his hand and a barrage of curses. I have since learn't a very polite comeback and had I known it at the time I should undoubtedly have used it -
"Sir, I hope you have 10 beautiful daughters and they all marry well!" but at the time a simple "Bog off!" had to suffice! [In India the father of the bride has to pay a dowry to the groom's family hence having 10 beautiful daughters would be both a blessing and a very expensive curse!]
Lawrence Hotel is in a rundown office block on the 3rd floor, accsesible up a dark, narrow stairway. It only has 9 rooms, all basic, stark and in need of repair but it's clean and cheap and a refuge from the streets below. The heat is absolutely relentless all night but atleast we have a noisy ceiling fan to blow it all around a bit! It's 23:00 when we finally clamber into bed that night (03:30 Australian time) so we both fall sleep immediately.
We spend 3 further days in Mumbai and, after the heat, the first thing that hits you is just how chaotic and noisy it is here. Mumbai is home to 18 million people and what seems like the same number of vehicles. To get anywhere involves squeezing between the bodies of millions of people or squeezing between the bumpers of millions of cars. It is dreadfully hot and hard work to get anywhere and quite disorientating too as landmarks become lost behind crowds of people and walls of traffic. The noise too is simply mind-blowing. It's like an incensed football crowd and a Formula 1 Grand Prix, both amplified and played simultaneously and accompanied by a full orchestra of car horns! And it's like this 24 hours a day, 365 days of the year! Another thing about all the people is that being a foreigner, and in Lynn's case a blonde female one, means you stick out like a sore thumb and the people here aren't shy of staring at anyone vaguely different. So, on top of the fact that there are so many people, they all seem to be facing inwards so as to give the impression that you are the very centre of a circle of faces closing in on you for as far as you can see.
The thing is, as I mentioned at the beginning of the last paragraph, this is what you notice first. After you start to grow accustomed to the noise and the people and the constant attention you begin to realise that the stares aren't malevolent or predatory, the people are smiling and talkative and they want to know where you're from and what you think of India. They aren't staring at you in a threatening manner, it's quite simply curiosity and they're just very open about showing it. Coming from a country where privacy is respected it's still hard to feel entirly comfortable in these situations but when you finally understand the situation, it greatly helps!
Another reason the streets are so busy is that this is where the people live. The old, the young, the homeless, the unemployed, the beggars and the cripples - it accounts for a vast proportion of the people here and they simply have no where else to go. I had been led to believe that the begging in India was relentless and persistent and in a way it is, but not by the same person. Once you say no to someone (or ignore them for long enough!) they move on and are soon replaced by another. And their behaviour is never threatening. You don't feel that someone's going to pull a knife out and ask for your wallet. These people are proud and respectable people - they're just very poor and hungry.
It's hard not to feel sorry for these people but at the end of the day what can you do? If I gave a few rupees to every starving child and pleading mother would I be helping the situation? Or am I just worsening the begging problem? Sure, I could be giving someone a much needed meal but I can't save them from this life. Tomorrow it's exactly the same scenario only a little bit more persistent and by a few more beggars than today. A couple of days into our stay here I gave 10 rupees to a couple of young street kids. They were about 4 and 6 years old. They were dirty and scruffy but polite and told me they hadn't eaten anything all day (it was about 20:00 in the evening). They asked for 10 rupees (about 15p) and I gave it to them. They ran off smiling but then 2 minutes later reappeared and asked for another 10 rupees and were very relentless. So, what did I solve? In the end they went away unhappy that I didn't give them any more and I was annoyed that what I gave to them just spurred them on to beg for even more. At the end of the day you've just got to accept that the solution to India's poverty doesn't lie in your own pockets. It's hard to ignore them, but if the government can do it....
Anyway, we spent 3 days in Mumbai seeing the sights and then we headed north on the overnight sleeper train to the city of Ahmadabad. Getting the train tickets was a good introduction to Indian bureaucracy gone mad! We turned up at the railway booking office which is hidden away in a building on the opposite side to the station through an unsigned side-door and up a staircase. One of the desks was for foreign tourists only and we found out it was the one at the end. We asked for 2 tickets on the overnight train to Ahmadabad and this prompted a form written in Hindi to be thrust under our noses inwhich we had to fill out every piece of information imaginable - names, addresses, hair colour, shoe size etc. Did we want 1st Class, 2nd Class, Air-con, 2 tier bunks, 3 tier bunks, sleeper class, unreserved seating. How are we paying? Cash. Where did we get the money? ATM. I need tp write the ATM serial number and transaction receipt on the form too. Bloody hell, where did I put the transaction receipt? Copy of passport, yep. Copy of Indian visa, yep. All details copied out in duplicate on the form... What a palaver but eventually, we emerged with a pair of tickets!
Getting to the station was an even bigger nightmare though. The station is about 3km from our hotel and we rather stupidly only gave ourselves 90 minutes to get there! It was quite possibly the worst taxi ride I've ever experienced and we got to the station with only minutes to spare before the train left. We spent the majority of the taxi journey sat bumper to bumper unmoving along with the rest of Mumbai's 17,999,999 other vehicles. We couldn't even get out to walk because we were packed in just as tightly side by side. To give you an idea how close we were - if the guy in the car next to us opened his car window and I opened ours I could have reached across and touched the shoulder of his passenger! We were quite simply stuck where we sat. When we did eventually move again we managed to force our way to the middle of the road and weaved and barged and muscled our way through the honking vehicles, spending most of our time heading into oncoming traffic in fear for our lives!
Our train journey from Mumbai to Ahmadabad is in 2nd class, air conditioned, 2-tier bunk bed, 4-berth compartments. Thankfully it was far more comfortable than I had imagined it would be and it was also on-time leaving and arriving. A guard came around soon after leaving Mumbai and handed out sheets and pillows and a blanket for each bed and we slept fairly well to the rocking of the train.
Ahmadabad is another sprawling city of noise and chaos, though thankfully not quite on the scale of Mumbai. It is however hotter than Mumbai with an average daytime temperature whilst we're there of 38C. We stay in a place called King's Palace Hotel which is just over twice the price of Hotel Lawrence but 10 times better. We spend 6 hours on our first day there accomplishing 2 normally simple tasks. The 2 tasks are finding and getting money from an ATM machine and buying another train ticket to Udaipur for a couple of days time. It's nearly evening when, tasks accomplished, we finally return to the hotel. I decide I want to find an internet cafe but Lynn's had enough for one day so stays in the hotel watching TV. The hotel manager tells me there's an internet cafe just down the road "a few buildings away". I walk up and down the road and looking all over for this elusive internet cafe but can't find it so in the end I go back in and ask the manager again where it is.
"Oh you'll need to take an auto-rickshaw", he announces, "because it'll take you 20 minutes to walk there". As if my patience hasn't been tried enough today already!
I spend an hour on t'internet before heading out to find an auto-rickshaw (tuk-tuk) back to the hotel. I stop a couple of drivers but they don't know where the hotel is. I can't remember the address either as so far today all I've had to say is "King's Palace Hotel" and off we go. It doesn't matter, someone will know in a minute I'm sure. I ask a third driver. He doesn't know either. A passer-by stops and asks what the problem is. I explain that I'm trying to get back to my hotel but I can't remember what road it's on and the tuk-tuk driver doesn't know either. I also add that it's not a problem, I've gone on 3 tuk-tuks to the hotel today already and they all knew where it was so I'll just keep stopping drivers until one knows. He doesn't accept this as a solution and vows to help me find my hotel. More people are asked and within a minute a small crowd of curious onlookers has gathered around us. A policeman and also a security guard from a nearby hotel are dragged into the circle of people and small arguaments and discussions carry on all around me and all with the goal of finding the address of my hotel. I am quite embarassed at the escalation of this trivial problem and try to sneak off unnoticed but all these people want to help me and I'm not allowed to leave. Eventually a unanimous verdict is reached (I don't know what it is though) and I am escorted off by the security guard and a few others down the road. The security guard marches me into the hotel he works for and I am made to confess to the hotel manager like a naughty schoolboy to the headmaster my unfortunate predicament and sizeable entourage. Eventually the people disperse and the hotel manager sets about phoning round to locate this hotel. Some minutes later I have a scrap of paper with the hotel's address and phone number written on it.
"Thank you very much for your help" I say before heading back outside. Thankfully the crowds have now gone and I can hail a tuk-tuk in relative peace. One stops -
"King's Palace Hotel, please" I say.
"Yes Sir" he replies before I clamber in and we head off. 5 minutes later we're at the hotel and he didn't once ask me for the address!
On our second day in Ahmadabad I decide to head down to the market to take a few photos. India is such a beautiful country and that's mainly down to it's people. They are so charming and proud and their clothes so colourful and beautiful. Basically they are about the most photogenic people I can think of! The difficulty arrives with the fact that it's nigh on impossible to sit quietly and invisibly and take a few pictures. Everywhere you go, a small crowd of curious onlookers gather. And once a camera is pulled out you can definately forget it! Every time you go to take a picture a group of children will leap into the frame with beaming smiles and waving hands. Even the adults beckon for you to take a photograph of them. The men smooth their clothes and stand proud, the women shyly smile and pretend they're not so keen but show such joy when you share with them the picture on the screen on the back of the camera afterwards. It's hard to resist their enthusiasm and there are always cries of "Just one more photo!" as you walk away. The best part is definately seeing the kids faces when you show them their picture. As soon as the photo is taken they rush forward and you're surrounded by giggling faces as they strain to be first to see themselves on screen.
The train from Ahmadabad to Udaipur is not quite so comfortable as the last one as we are in 2nd class, no air-con, 3-tier bunk bed, 6 berth compartments. It's not uncomfortable though and the other 4 beds are occupied by a friendly family who are going to Udaipur for a long weekend and we chat to them before it's time to go to sleep.
In Udaipur we stay at Hotel Rajdarshan which is 3 times the price of the King's Palace Hotel and 8 times the price of Hotel Lawrence. It is lovely even if it is quite a chunk of our daily budget. Our tuk-tuk driver from the train station to the hotel is called Anwar. On the way to the hotel we warm to him immensely and when he offers to show us the sights of Udaipur this afternoon we jump at the chance. We visit the Moti Magri (Udaipur's first palace, now a ruin), The Gardens of the Princesses (a formerly royal garden that the king had made so that his daughter had somewhere private to entertain her female friends). Anwar told us that it was still open to women only so Lynn could go in but we would have to wait outside. He then said he knew where we could hire a burqa and buy a couple of grapefruits from if I really wanted to go inside myself. I nearly (not quite, but nearly) fell for it before he admitted amongst much laughter that the gardens are open to anyone these days! We went to the Jain Temple (amazing), the Royal Cemetary (even more impressive than the Recoleta Cemetery in Buenos Aires) which is full of beautiful and very grand monuments to the dead kings and queens, a few handicraft shops and the local folk museum. It lasted for 4 hours and afterwards Anwar was very shy about asking for money for it. In the end he said 400 rupees (just under 5 pounds) would make him very happy. The next day we asked him for another tour! We spent 8 hours in his company this time visiting the City Palace (which is still home to the current royal family), a boat ride on Lake Pichola stopping off for a quick walk around Jag Mandir Palace in the middle of the lake. We went to the Crystal Gallery (thankfully none of those ghastly crystal animal ornaments which I despise!), the king's vintage car museum (about 20 vehicles and he still drives them all about town too!) and finally a trip up to the Monsoon Palace, a deserted palace on a hilltop overlooking Udaipur city for sunset. Again it was a spectacular trip. So, if anyone ever finds themselves in Udaipur let me know because I've got Anwar's mobile number and email address should you require a tour, it comes with our highest recommedation!
We left Udaipur on Tuesday 24th October and headed, again on the overnight train, to New Delhi. It was a 12 hour journey and this time in 2nd class, air-conditioned, 3-tier, 8 bed compartments. This time there was a screaming child in the compartment so the journey wasn't as pleasant as one would have wished, shall we say!
And that's about it for now. As I said, we're now in New Delhi and we're staying in a hotel called "Mohan International Hotel" which sounds far more grand than it actually is but is pleasant enough. Tomorrow we have friends joining us here in India for a couple of weeks which is why I wanted to get this blogsite up-to-date before they arrive. So, next update in about 2 weeks time!
Bye for now and take care,
Rich
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