“Mam,” explined my driver Swami, with pride, “this is new road since four years.” (Mis amigas españolas…esa gramática no es correcta). Great, I thought, a nice straight road so we can move along a bit faster today. Twisty pot holed, narrow dusty traffic packed roads were beginning to lose their charm for me.
Tolled roads are new to this part of India but the rules differ from our efficient E15 in Valencia (or any motorway I’ve been on, anywhere!).
Overtake? Just pick a side - any one will do as long as you honk loudly enough.
Pedestrians, cows even goats cross our path. Vehicles join this motorway by cutting across the traffic. Some of the strangest sights included – whole families speeding along on the one motorbike; kids on bicycles with friends on the back, an elderly man pushing his bike which is laden horizontally with long sugar cane, auto rickshaws (yellow and black open sided “taxis”) bulging with passengers (wonder if there is an upper limit on number of passengers and does the insurance cover for this?!). May I now point out that the above (with rickshaw excepted) were travelling IN THE WRONG DIRECTION and coming towards our car!
Signposting doesn’t seem to have caught up with this ´new´ road, so even capable Swami got it wrong at times ( I guessed he may have got a bit lost when we ran out of motorway and bounced along a narrow crater filled road and crossed over a railway track). And Swami´s reaction to all this (and my horrified gasps from the rear seat!)? He just laughs. Thankfully he has quick reactions and ABS!
domingo, 29 de enero de 2012
sábado, 28 de enero de 2012
CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS…..IN INDIA?
For a country which has so many Gods, Goddesses and Deities it would be welcome if just one of them was dedicated to cleanliness. The people wear immaculate clothes but they surround themselves with ankle deep filth. They sit or sleep on the ground next to open sewers running a metre away from their homes.
The sheer volume of rubbish seen everywhere with the exception of some remoter areas, has shocked me. Peeing outside is commonplace. I saw a poster asking people not to ‘defecate in the open’. Yes, I even witnessed that.
On several occasions I felt sick, tearful and fearful for mankind’s future on seeing the rubbish filled polluted waterways and the complete disregard for the environment. Plastics, toxic and slow to degrade, lie everywhere. In a town famous for its temples, Rameswaram, I have never seen such filth in any other town in any country. Words fail me.
Yet how incongruent is this?... I was asked to leave my shoes outside of a grotty internet hovel (one dusty PC). A man standing at the doorway tore up paper and tossed it on to the street. When I chided him he seemed not to get the message.
Gandhi taught the importance of cleanliness to his people and said, “There is dignity in cleaning up our own dirt”. The message, I fear, has not stuck.
The sheer volume of rubbish seen everywhere with the exception of some remoter areas, has shocked me. Peeing outside is commonplace. I saw a poster asking people not to ‘defecate in the open’. Yes, I even witnessed that.
On several occasions I felt sick, tearful and fearful for mankind’s future on seeing the rubbish filled polluted waterways and the complete disregard for the environment. Plastics, toxic and slow to degrade, lie everywhere. In a town famous for its temples, Rameswaram, I have never seen such filth in any other town in any country. Words fail me.
Yet how incongruent is this?... I was asked to leave my shoes outside of a grotty internet hovel (one dusty PC). A man standing at the doorway tore up paper and tossed it on to the street. When I chided him he seemed not to get the message.
Gandhi taught the importance of cleanliness to his people and said, “There is dignity in cleaning up our own dirt”. The message, I fear, has not stuck.
GANDHI, FATHER OF THE NATION….AND HOW HIS SATYAGRAHA MOVEMENT DEFEATED BRITAIN.
As this is my day of rebelling against my planned gruelling tour itinerary, I decided to visit Madurai´s Gandhi Museum which was mentioned in a guide book. Simple chronologically sequenced wall illustrations charted from the beginning of British control of India, Gandhi´s involvement, up to ´freedom fighters´ like Martin Luther King who revered Gandhi´s method and spirit.
His method of Satyagraha (firmness in fighting injustice by scrupulously truthful means) gained India its freedom. In a small,black painted room, in a glass case lay the blood-stained dhoti he wore when assassinated on the 30th of January 1948. I cried.
Some Gandhi gems:
“Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man.”
“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall – think of it, ALWAYS.”
How pertinent are his words for today’s troubled times.
His method of Satyagraha (firmness in fighting injustice by scrupulously truthful means) gained India its freedom. In a small,black painted room, in a glass case lay the blood-stained dhoti he wore when assassinated on the 30th of January 1948. I cried.
Some Gandhi gems:
“Non-violence is the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction devised by the ingenuity of man.”
“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murderers and for a time they seem invincible but in the end, they always fall – think of it, ALWAYS.”
How pertinent are his words for today’s troubled times.
ALL TEMPLED OUT – TAILORS, TOUTS AND TOUCHING SALES TECHNIQUES.
Today I rebelled against the itinerary. Yes I know I had requested a tour of South India’s most sacred sites but for now I’ve reached saturation point. So I break the news to Swami. “Today will be temple and palace free. We’re going shopping.”
He accompanied me to a photo print shop where the helpful young man confirmed what I thought…my laptop was not reading my photo card. He kindly loaded them on for me, though I still can’t figure out how to get them on to blog.
On to the first pedestrian only street I´ve seen. It’s properly paved, street sitters free, and next to a part of the temple. It´s also known for its tailor touts and large emporiums. Sheer bliss! I had wanted a favourite top copied, so chose silk/cotton in a wild coral fabric and left the chatty tailor for an hour to produce a miracle.
I then entered a well kept three storey emporium where a handsome man (perfect English) tried every trick in the book to get me to buy something. I did. Sales technique 4 out of 5. When I explained that I had no more room in my suitcase (the truth!), his older colleague jumped in with, “Buy another suitcase and I’ll carry it for you.” Sales technique 5 out of 5! Handsome One took me to his top floor to show me the views of temple….but also tried to sell me a silk Kashmiri carpet. It felt sooooo beautiful but he jokingly told me it cost 1000 rupees just to touch it. He had lovely carved wooden furniture and when I suggested he set up shop in Spain, he said OK…if I’d help him! Such good flirting fun…they have a sense of humour.
He accompanied me to a photo print shop where the helpful young man confirmed what I thought…my laptop was not reading my photo card. He kindly loaded them on for me, though I still can’t figure out how to get them on to blog.
On to the first pedestrian only street I´ve seen. It’s properly paved, street sitters free, and next to a part of the temple. It´s also known for its tailor touts and large emporiums. Sheer bliss! I had wanted a favourite top copied, so chose silk/cotton in a wild coral fabric and left the chatty tailor for an hour to produce a miracle.
I then entered a well kept three storey emporium where a handsome man (perfect English) tried every trick in the book to get me to buy something. I did. Sales technique 4 out of 5. When I explained that I had no more room in my suitcase (the truth!), his older colleague jumped in with, “Buy another suitcase and I’ll carry it for you.” Sales technique 5 out of 5! Handsome One took me to his top floor to show me the views of temple….but also tried to sell me a silk Kashmiri carpet. It felt sooooo beautiful but he jokingly told me it cost 1000 rupees just to touch it. He had lovely carved wooden furniture and when I suggested he set up shop in Spain, he said OK…if I’d help him! Such good flirting fun…they have a sense of humour.
3 BILLION YEARS OLD, 83 METRES HIGH, 437 STEPS (AND BEING SERENADED BY GUIDE!)
I am provided with Rajaram, a skinny, English speaking guide to show me around Trichy. We pass by an onion market….zillions of them heaped up on the ground. First stop Srirenganathaswamy (these long names take an age to type!) This temple is a main Shiva pilgrim site. Hoards are walking barefoot towards it. Twenty one towers including one of 13 stories, 14th century origins and priests with strange hairstyle in white robes and body markings. There’s a 1000 pillar hall used for events, ornate painted walls and detailed stone carvings. Guide pointed out a series of erotic depictions (so not completely family-friendly).
Second stop to river Karasi to see people bathing in a ritual for recently departed where ashes get scattered upon the water. Got ‘blessed’ by a sad-looking elephant for a few rupees (he pats heads with his trunk). Had a cup of chai (tea) at a filthy roadside shack (great taste) then on to third stop. Rock Fort is a huge mound older than the Himalayas or Greenland. Guide and I climb up the 437 chiselled steps with him enthusiastically pointing out views over the town (not that pleasant).
Then Rajaram insisted on singing me a ‘devotional song’ sung to ladies, in Tamil, his language. This performance was done loudly, in front of loads of visitors and went on for some time. No one batted an eyelid but I managed to get them to applaud at the end (mainly to cover my embarrassment!) Raj then asked a passer-by to take a photo of us and wants me to email it to him. Oh dear.
Left Raj. Swami and I drove on to Madurai and yet another guide waiting to show me “the finest temple in South India.” The Sri Meenakshi is dedicated to the ´fish-eyed’ Goddess, wife of Shiva. It´s an amazing 6 hectare complex with 12 gopurams (towers) and it is said 33 million (!) impressive sculptures of gods, demons and heroes. I am exhausted and thankfully this hotel is clean and comfortable. (more on hotel standards to follow).
Second stop to river Karasi to see people bathing in a ritual for recently departed where ashes get scattered upon the water. Got ‘blessed’ by a sad-looking elephant for a few rupees (he pats heads with his trunk). Had a cup of chai (tea) at a filthy roadside shack (great taste) then on to third stop. Rock Fort is a huge mound older than the Himalayas or Greenland. Guide and I climb up the 437 chiselled steps with him enthusiastically pointing out views over the town (not that pleasant).
Then Rajaram insisted on singing me a ‘devotional song’ sung to ladies, in Tamil, his language. This performance was done loudly, in front of loads of visitors and went on for some time. No one batted an eyelid but I managed to get them to applaud at the end (mainly to cover my embarrassment!) Raj then asked a passer-by to take a photo of us and wants me to email it to him. Oh dear.
Left Raj. Swami and I drove on to Madurai and yet another guide waiting to show me “the finest temple in South India.” The Sri Meenakshi is dedicated to the ´fish-eyed’ Goddess, wife of Shiva. It´s an amazing 6 hectare complex with 12 gopurams (towers) and it is said 33 million (!) impressive sculptures of gods, demons and heroes. I am exhausted and thankfully this hotel is clean and comfortable. (more on hotel standards to follow).
“YES MAM THIS IS A VERY FINE HOTEL.”
Was I expecting too much? Are ´western´ standards of hygiene so different? Should I bite my lip and smile when Indian tour agencies boast…”Yes mam, this is a very fine hotel.”?
So dirty cups and glasses, unclean mirrors, dust, mould splattered shower curtains (in fact mould in most bathrooms), greying towels, outdated, stained and scruffy fittings…is this normal? It seems, on looking around the stop over places chosen by my tour agency that I am in the best of a bad bunch. On the many miles travelled, it is a rare sight to see anything which resembles a ´decent’ hotel, despite some of the signs boasting ‘luxurious accommodation’.
Out on the streets on Trichy in the zone around my ´very fine hotel´, the stench of sewers is strong. I walk around for a few minute but quickly return to base to have a beer in the hotel bar (musty smelling). There are three short power cuts in the time it takes to down a beer in an empty bar.
There are always lots of staff around (very few women I note) but none putting much importance on cleaning. Three hotels out the 8 booked by my award winning agency have been reasonably good. I’ve grimaced a bit on entering some rooms. But the final straw happened on my birthday. I had been in a pretty grotty hotel the previous night (in a grotty town) and was glad to hit the trail, after breakfast, to the next stop. After a five and a half hour car journey I was looking forward to a nice shower and lunch. Well…the poor porter got the brunt of my first reaction on seeing the room. This led to them showing me three other rooms (all just as bad). I stomped down to reception and ranted….yes…screamed…. at the totally unperturbed personnel. I went back and took photos of the room and told them I was sending these to the tour agency. I was shaking with rage. My ever so patient driver called the agency and the hotel moved me to their best room (not perfect by any means) with the agency agreeing to pay the extra. What a nerve they have!
PS Today´s hotel is ´very fine´!!! The staff have presented me with a birthday present (a huge and garish sandalwood garland a bit like a Mad Masonic sash ....and a big cake with ´Mrs Wilma Margaret´ iced on it!!!
So dirty cups and glasses, unclean mirrors, dust, mould splattered shower curtains (in fact mould in most bathrooms), greying towels, outdated, stained and scruffy fittings…is this normal? It seems, on looking around the stop over places chosen by my tour agency that I am in the best of a bad bunch. On the many miles travelled, it is a rare sight to see anything which resembles a ´decent’ hotel, despite some of the signs boasting ‘luxurious accommodation’.
Out on the streets on Trichy in the zone around my ´very fine hotel´, the stench of sewers is strong. I walk around for a few minute but quickly return to base to have a beer in the hotel bar (musty smelling). There are three short power cuts in the time it takes to down a beer in an empty bar.
There are always lots of staff around (very few women I note) but none putting much importance on cleaning. Three hotels out the 8 booked by my award winning agency have been reasonably good. I’ve grimaced a bit on entering some rooms. But the final straw happened on my birthday. I had been in a pretty grotty hotel the previous night (in a grotty town) and was glad to hit the trail, after breakfast, to the next stop. After a five and a half hour car journey I was looking forward to a nice shower and lunch. Well…the poor porter got the brunt of my first reaction on seeing the room. This led to them showing me three other rooms (all just as bad). I stomped down to reception and ranted….yes…screamed…. at the totally unperturbed personnel. I went back and took photos of the room and told them I was sending these to the tour agency. I was shaking with rage. My ever so patient driver called the agency and the hotel moved me to their best room (not perfect by any means) with the agency agreeing to pay the extra. What a nerve they have!
PS Today´s hotel is ´very fine´!!! The staff have presented me with a birthday present (a huge and garish sandalwood garland a bit like a Mad Masonic sash ....and a big cake with ´Mrs Wilma Margaret´ iced on it!!!
miércoles, 25 de enero de 2012
THE HEAD WOBBLE…WHAT IS THAT ABOUT!?
It’s intrinsically part of Indian communication and fascinating to observe. But I am no closer to defining its meaning. I’ve even attempted to replicate it myself. I just look silly. So here’s a brief summary of the possibilities.
“Yes.” “No”. “Perhaps.” “I’m not sure.” "How are you?" “I’ve no idea what you’re saying but I may just get away with a smile and a head wobble.”
If I find out more, I´ll update this information!
“Yes.” “No”. “Perhaps.” “I’m not sure.” "How are you?" “I’ve no idea what you’re saying but I may just get away with a smile and a head wobble.”
If I find out more, I´ll update this information!
lunes, 23 de enero de 2012
Being left handed in India...
Following on from the toilet topic of previous blog, the left hand is for bum cleaning (nose clearing/picking too I observe). The right is for food handling or passing things to others. It´s quite a skill breaking up nan bread or chappatti with one hand and even more so if one is a leftie. It´s OK to eat from a spoon or fork, drink from a cup held in left hand but when possible, use the right.
For the first time in my life I felt almost embarassed being a south paw when an Indian guy watched me writing and made a remark, "So you´re left handed." I have to almost sit on my left hand at table. Today I automatically made the eating gesture with my 'únclean' hand to my driver to ask if he´d eaten (his english isn´t great) and realised I may have caused offence!
For the first time in my life I felt almost embarassed being a south paw when an Indian guy watched me writing and made a remark, "So you´re left handed." I have to almost sit on my left hand at table. Today I automatically made the eating gesture with my 'únclean' hand to my driver to ask if he´d eaten (his english isn´t great) and realised I may have caused offence!
Did I mention the toilets?....
Hello, Hola to all blog followers. Made a boob in the sequence so hope you have managed to see where it begins!....
Another observation on India....
Tip...go whenever you are anywhere near a flush one. The
public ´pay and use' ones (like gold dust)are likely to be a bit cleaner. I thought I´d spend 3 rupees at a railway station. Oh no....hole in the floor, two tiled bits for the feet. Now I´m carrying a small rucksack AND a bag containing loo roll, water, etc. There´s nowhere to hang them up and laying them on a sodden, dirty floor is not an option. So I hold on to the bags with one hand while dealing with trousers with other. Am trying to not widdle on trousers, avoid hems getting wet from floor and hoping I don´t drop any belongings into the hole. Legs unaccustomed to the squatting position go shaky on standing up so hoping I don´t fall backwards. Struggle to get trousers up and buttoned. Am congratulating myself on this achievement and trying to see the humour in it. That´s when I discover there was a 'western style´ loo behind another door!
In general there´s either two plastic buckets in the loos or/and a minature shower hanging next to WC. No paper provided so use your imagination for the purpose of these items! Now I'm wondering how the sari wearing ladies manage...think about that if you will!
Another observation on India....
Tip...go whenever you are anywhere near a flush one. The
public ´pay and use' ones (like gold dust)are likely to be a bit cleaner. I thought I´d spend 3 rupees at a railway station. Oh no....hole in the floor, two tiled bits for the feet. Now I´m carrying a small rucksack AND a bag containing loo roll, water, etc. There´s nowhere to hang them up and laying them on a sodden, dirty floor is not an option. So I hold on to the bags with one hand while dealing with trousers with other. Am trying to not widdle on trousers, avoid hems getting wet from floor and hoping I don´t drop any belongings into the hole. Legs unaccustomed to the squatting position go shaky on standing up so hoping I don´t fall backwards. Struggle to get trousers up and buttoned. Am congratulating myself on this achievement and trying to see the humour in it. That´s when I discover there was a 'western style´ loo behind another door!
In general there´s either two plastic buckets in the loos or/and a minature shower hanging next to WC. No paper provided so use your imagination for the purpose of these items! Now I'm wondering how the sari wearing ladies manage...think about that if you will!
domingo, 22 de enero de 2012
OOTY TOY TRAIN AWAITS…
22 Jan. 12
Up early to catch 09.15 train from Ooty to Conoor. This is such a popular thing to do. Gorgeous views from this ancient blue train. One and a quarter hours later arrived in Coonoor where my driver was waiting. We headed for Coimbatore and with hair pin bend roads, huge forest covered mountains and waterfalls, it could almost have been Scotland! Well except for dodging the monkeys in the middle of the road. Oh and the fact that drivers try and make 3 lanes out of what is really one and a half! It’s nice to sit in the back like a memsab and let Shwamy cope with the challenges.
We passed through some towns with shacks, dirt, bare footed inhabitants lolling around, goats munching on roadside rubbish and the usual cows of course. The poverty is evident but what has impressed me is the fantastic colour coordination of even the poorest looking woman. Even whole families riding on a single motor cycle appear to be colour coordinated and clean. Now anyone who knows me will know how I love this. So hats off (!) to these women for looking so elegant in quite disgusting (to me at any rate) surroundings.
The Rathna Residency Hotel in industrial Coimbatore is OK but like everything else needs a good scrub and repainting. Oh and the ‘pretty’ views are over a railway line.
Am soon off out, this time to visit Isha Dyanalingam Yogic Centre with its famous domed temple where meditation is reputed to be heightened. Hundreds are there and as the only white face, I’m a bit confused about the rituals. I keep forgetting about the taking off of shoes (someone always stops me) and the leaving bags, cameras, mobiles in a cloakroom. Ok there are longwinded explanations on display but I’d prefer someone to guide me. I follow the others but they seem to be climbing up high, steep ladders with offerings in hand then down the other side. I decide to pass on this part and focus on the beautiful silence of this huge dome. A bell rings and everyone gets up and exits while the next lot file in for their shot at sitting on the floor to meditate. I wait for an extra 15 minutes to absorb the ambience. At the end I copy the others and put a spot of white paste on my forehead. Off to find my shoes and reclaim my bag. The slogan of this ashram is, “A world full of Love, Light and Laughter...its time has come. Let us make it happen!” And I say….AMEN to that! However I haven´t yet got my head around the need for buying weird stuff to offer these idols. They are also selling things depending on what you want to change in your life….yellow wrist threads, pieces of cloth..etc. I do however feel very calm after this and am pleased to see my driver had also entered and we were both wearing our yellow forehead markings
On the way back to hotel our car struck a hole in the middle of the road. Driver says it´s OK. The roads are full of potholes to add to the general bedlam of driving here.
Too zonked to seek a restaurant in this bizarre place, I put on my salwar kameez (Indian style) and go to dine on roof terrace restaurant. Full of men and no one bats an eyelid. I thought it would be akin to seeing an Indian lady dressed in a kilt!
Up early to catch 09.15 train from Ooty to Conoor. This is such a popular thing to do. Gorgeous views from this ancient blue train. One and a quarter hours later arrived in Coonoor where my driver was waiting. We headed for Coimbatore and with hair pin bend roads, huge forest covered mountains and waterfalls, it could almost have been Scotland! Well except for dodging the monkeys in the middle of the road. Oh and the fact that drivers try and make 3 lanes out of what is really one and a half! It’s nice to sit in the back like a memsab and let Shwamy cope with the challenges.
We passed through some towns with shacks, dirt, bare footed inhabitants lolling around, goats munching on roadside rubbish and the usual cows of course. The poverty is evident but what has impressed me is the fantastic colour coordination of even the poorest looking woman. Even whole families riding on a single motor cycle appear to be colour coordinated and clean. Now anyone who knows me will know how I love this. So hats off (!) to these women for looking so elegant in quite disgusting (to me at any rate) surroundings.
The Rathna Residency Hotel in industrial Coimbatore is OK but like everything else needs a good scrub and repainting. Oh and the ‘pretty’ views are over a railway line.
Am soon off out, this time to visit Isha Dyanalingam Yogic Centre with its famous domed temple where meditation is reputed to be heightened. Hundreds are there and as the only white face, I’m a bit confused about the rituals. I keep forgetting about the taking off of shoes (someone always stops me) and the leaving bags, cameras, mobiles in a cloakroom. Ok there are longwinded explanations on display but I’d prefer someone to guide me. I follow the others but they seem to be climbing up high, steep ladders with offerings in hand then down the other side. I decide to pass on this part and focus on the beautiful silence of this huge dome. A bell rings and everyone gets up and exits while the next lot file in for their shot at sitting on the floor to meditate. I wait for an extra 15 minutes to absorb the ambience. At the end I copy the others and put a spot of white paste on my forehead. Off to find my shoes and reclaim my bag. The slogan of this ashram is, “A world full of Love, Light and Laughter...its time has come. Let us make it happen!” And I say….AMEN to that! However I haven´t yet got my head around the need for buying weird stuff to offer these idols. They are also selling things depending on what you want to change in your life….yellow wrist threads, pieces of cloth..etc. I do however feel very calm after this and am pleased to see my driver had also entered and we were both wearing our yellow forehead markings
On the way back to hotel our car struck a hole in the middle of the road. Driver says it´s OK. The roads are full of potholes to add to the general bedlam of driving here.
Too zonked to seek a restaurant in this bizarre place, I put on my salwar kameez (Indian style) and go to dine on roof terrace restaurant. Full of men and no one bats an eyelid. I thought it would be akin to seeing an Indian lady dressed in a kilt!
HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVE…
21 Jan. 12
Left nice hotel without time to use gym or pool and this is possibly the best hotel booked. Stopped for tea at the fabulous Laitha Palace Hotel which a kindly Raj gifted to his wife. Just where are these generous blokes these days?!! At around 200 euros per night only the rich Indians could afford this ostentatious luxury. A full time maid here earns about 60 euros per month. A glass, yes a glass, of wine in this palace costs 15euros!!!! Boy, am I going to appreciate my Spanish vino on return.
Leaving behind the city, we climbed up to beautiful green Bandipur National Park. Saw lots of monkeys, deer and a few elephants but the chances of glimpsing a tiger is remote. Stopped for chai at a dirty shack and took photos of the UGG toilets.
Arrived at Brookdale Village where I have a “cottage”. It´s cleanish and basic but does have beautiful views over tea plantations and mountains.
An hour more into Ooty to visit Botanic Gardens and Boating Lake (full of tacky stalls so didn´t stay). On way back climbed up a hill with my driver to a lovely place where movies are filmed. Back at hotel for a meal. No one else here in restaurant…no music, silence and not even a beer! Four Indian men had lit a fire in the grounds and invited me to chat. I had read that Indians will ask foreigners blunt question and it was true to its word. Several people have asked me, “Where is you country”? “What is your name?” then, apparently satisfied, they move away. One of these gentlemen went several steps beyond this. “Where are you travelling to?” “How much did you pay?” And …”Give me your email address”!...Scuttled back to room and spent 15 minutes trying to get a small frog to leave. I put a bucket over him and got him outside. (He appeared back the following morning!)
I read in the newspapers that Indian graduates studying in UK are returning to India to get work. Maybe some could research the tourist facilities and come up with a way to clean up the rubbish that is just left at roadside….despite posters urging people to think of the environment.
Left nice hotel without time to use gym or pool and this is possibly the best hotel booked. Stopped for tea at the fabulous Laitha Palace Hotel which a kindly Raj gifted to his wife. Just where are these generous blokes these days?!! At around 200 euros per night only the rich Indians could afford this ostentatious luxury. A full time maid here earns about 60 euros per month. A glass, yes a glass, of wine in this palace costs 15euros!!!! Boy, am I going to appreciate my Spanish vino on return.
Leaving behind the city, we climbed up to beautiful green Bandipur National Park. Saw lots of monkeys, deer and a few elephants but the chances of glimpsing a tiger is remote. Stopped for chai at a dirty shack and took photos of the UGG toilets.
Arrived at Brookdale Village where I have a “cottage”. It´s cleanish and basic but does have beautiful views over tea plantations and mountains.
An hour more into Ooty to visit Botanic Gardens and Boating Lake (full of tacky stalls so didn´t stay). On way back climbed up a hill with my driver to a lovely place where movies are filmed. Back at hotel for a meal. No one else here in restaurant…no music, silence and not even a beer! Four Indian men had lit a fire in the grounds and invited me to chat. I had read that Indians will ask foreigners blunt question and it was true to its word. Several people have asked me, “Where is you country”? “What is your name?” then, apparently satisfied, they move away. One of these gentlemen went several steps beyond this. “Where are you travelling to?” “How much did you pay?” And …”Give me your email address”!...Scuttled back to room and spent 15 minutes trying to get a small frog to leave. I put a bucket over him and got him outside. (He appeared back the following morning!)
I read in the newspapers that Indian graduates studying in UK are returning to India to get work. Maybe some could research the tourist facilities and come up with a way to clean up the rubbish that is just left at roadside….despite posters urging people to think of the environment.
BREAKFAST IN THE JUNGLE…
20th January
Hotel Pai Vista caters for the up-and-coming wealthy Indians. Good breakfast choices but I can´t face curry, so cornflakes will do.
Off with driver to famous sacred hill temple- Chamundeeshwari. Thousands heading there. Being a temple novice here it was all a bit much knowing what to do. Leave shoes in a special area, pay entrance (foreigners pay several times more), knowing where to go….a tout guide helped me through the complex process and showed me how to place the offerings of flowers and sprinkle red powder. I left with 3 circles on forehead…red…ash…and vermillion. I assume all mean ‘luck’ but that comes at a price…all want their ´tips´. So religious devotion is big business…..you can even get faster access by paying more!
On to Mysore Palace supposed to be the most beautiful after Buckingham? Well that´s what guide told me.. More procedures…entrance fee, leave camera, security checks, shoes off, pay for guide…etc. The palace was indeed stunning. Glasgow played its part providing ornate metalwork and beautiful stained glass ceilings. Marble,teak,crystal,tiles, silver and lots of gold… all over the world. Walls full of portraits with 3-dimensional effects…the eyes and even the whole body followed you around…amazing.
On to Srirengapatna, palace of Sultan Tipi (Duke of Wellington lived there too 1799). Hoards of school children, some shoeless but wearing uniform ..some staring at me, the only white face and with painted brow.
On to another temple…mausoleum….etc but by this time I´ve had enough history (head buzzing). Get me to some shops driver! Mysore is famous for silk but nothing is to my taste. Later I went off on own to very busy shopping street and got shoes (not particularly a bargain). Park Lane Hotel restaurant for nice light curry, nan, beer and masala chai..all for 4.50 euros. Ich sproch mit zwei deutschen Mädchen, die auch hier fahren. Got a bit lost finding my hotel and police guided me. Crazily dangerous crossing roads as no pedestrian crossing is respected and roads/pavements need constant vigilance to avoid falling down a hole.
Hotel Pai Vista caters for the up-and-coming wealthy Indians. Good breakfast choices but I can´t face curry, so cornflakes will do.
Off with driver to famous sacred hill temple- Chamundeeshwari. Thousands heading there. Being a temple novice here it was all a bit much knowing what to do. Leave shoes in a special area, pay entrance (foreigners pay several times more), knowing where to go….a tout guide helped me through the complex process and showed me how to place the offerings of flowers and sprinkle red powder. I left with 3 circles on forehead…red…ash…and vermillion. I assume all mean ‘luck’ but that comes at a price…all want their ´tips´. So religious devotion is big business…..you can even get faster access by paying more!
On to Mysore Palace supposed to be the most beautiful after Buckingham? Well that´s what guide told me.. More procedures…entrance fee, leave camera, security checks, shoes off, pay for guide…etc. The palace was indeed stunning. Glasgow played its part providing ornate metalwork and beautiful stained glass ceilings. Marble,teak,crystal,tiles, silver and lots of gold… all over the world. Walls full of portraits with 3-dimensional effects…the eyes and even the whole body followed you around…amazing.
On to Srirengapatna, palace of Sultan Tipi (Duke of Wellington lived there too 1799). Hoards of school children, some shoeless but wearing uniform ..some staring at me, the only white face and with painted brow.
On to another temple…mausoleum….etc but by this time I´ve had enough history (head buzzing). Get me to some shops driver! Mysore is famous for silk but nothing is to my taste. Later I went off on own to very busy shopping street and got shoes (not particularly a bargain). Park Lane Hotel restaurant for nice light curry, nan, beer and masala chai..all for 4.50 euros. Ich sproch mit zwei deutschen Mädchen, die auch hier fahren. Got a bit lost finding my hotel and police guided me. Crazily dangerous crossing roads as no pedestrian crossing is respected and roads/pavements need constant vigilance to avoid falling down a hole.
BACK TO SCHOOL….
Thursday 19th January
This is the morning Amargit and other ladies do volunteer English teaching at a public school. I had taken over pencils, scissors, stencils, books etc and was keen for the children to get use of them. Amargit recommended selling the books at a fundraising day in order to buy shoes for the children. We arrived at a very rundown school building (one classroom). We started the class off with songs and a short reminder on Good Manners. Then the class was split up and Amargit and I worked with 8. They are so enthusiastic and delighted to receive a simple pencil. Getting attention from a redheaded white “Miss” proved to be quite an event as they crowded around me wanting to shake hands. The teachers are working with few resources….even the ´blackboard´ needs painting. A humbling experience and over too soon.
Time for a quick lunch, final packing and my pickup by Indian Panorama for my 10 day guided trip. Excellent first impressions from Tour Manager who came to present me to my driver, Shwami. One and a half hours to get out of Bangalore´s madly busy roads and heading for Mysore, 150 kilometers south. Passed through main coconut and sugar cane areas. And another town full of painted wooded rocking horses.
At last Mysore and highly regarded Hotel Pai Vista with European facilities. The driver took me an hours drive to view a 10 minute light/music/water display at Brindavan Gardens. Thousands go nightly to view this. To me it seemed an awful long trip to see it.
Back at hotel and dinner in the Jungle Restaurant complete with waiters wearing pith helmets. The only thing missing were the tigers! Starter, main veg curry and large beer came to around 7 euros....not bad for hotel prices.
This is the morning Amargit and other ladies do volunteer English teaching at a public school. I had taken over pencils, scissors, stencils, books etc and was keen for the children to get use of them. Amargit recommended selling the books at a fundraising day in order to buy shoes for the children. We arrived at a very rundown school building (one classroom). We started the class off with songs and a short reminder on Good Manners. Then the class was split up and Amargit and I worked with 8. They are so enthusiastic and delighted to receive a simple pencil. Getting attention from a redheaded white “Miss” proved to be quite an event as they crowded around me wanting to shake hands. The teachers are working with few resources….even the ´blackboard´ needs painting. A humbling experience and over too soon.
Time for a quick lunch, final packing and my pickup by Indian Panorama for my 10 day guided trip. Excellent first impressions from Tour Manager who came to present me to my driver, Shwami. One and a half hours to get out of Bangalore´s madly busy roads and heading for Mysore, 150 kilometers south. Passed through main coconut and sugar cane areas. And another town full of painted wooded rocking horses.
At last Mysore and highly regarded Hotel Pai Vista with European facilities. The driver took me an hours drive to view a 10 minute light/music/water display at Brindavan Gardens. Thousands go nightly to view this. To me it seemed an awful long trip to see it.
Back at hotel and dinner in the Jungle Restaurant complete with waiters wearing pith helmets. The only thing missing were the tigers! Starter, main veg curry and large beer came to around 7 euros....not bad for hotel prices.
ONCE MORE INTO THE BREACH…..
18th January
Those who can afford it hire a driver instead of using public transport (incredibly crowded) or driving their own car (complete madness on the roads)
Alistair and Amargits favourite and loyal driver is Babu and he picked us up this morning in his smart 7 seater Toyota. He knows where to buy everything and has the patience of a saint. Amargit is well prepared with a list of shops to attack. There’s a lot of buying to be done. First stop is an outdoor market where there were bargains in clothing and household goods. Fun with haggling. Next stop is the famous Commercial Street. Now if images of Oxford Street or Buchanan Street come to mind let me assure you this hectic shopping area is nothing like that. Bangalore has the worst pavements I’ve seen anywhere, so vigilance is a must to avoid accidents. Crossing roads is a risky business as all manner of vehicles jostle for space against zillions of others. Tiny shops up wooden steps are squeezed in between larger stores. Shopping bags usually have to be handed in to security too. After a few hours Amargit has a few bargains and I’m struggling to find the colour, or style I’d be happy to be seen in! Too many crazy patterns and weird colour combinations….I start to feel dizzy just looking at them. And my ideas of filling up a suitcase with quality cotton and unique T-shirts are fading as I see the strange styles and some prices much dearer than Primark! Lunch break is called for…a thali (mix of spicy curries, rice, soup (fiery hot), pickle, nan bread and chai in Woodies . Cost for two was 400 rupees (6 euros) but the toilet left a lot to be desired…..although it’s better than most!
Ready to get back on the road, our next stop in Brigade Road was to buy a new camera. Now I can start recording all this!
Those who can afford it hire a driver instead of using public transport (incredibly crowded) or driving their own car (complete madness on the roads)
Alistair and Amargits favourite and loyal driver is Babu and he picked us up this morning in his smart 7 seater Toyota. He knows where to buy everything and has the patience of a saint. Amargit is well prepared with a list of shops to attack. There’s a lot of buying to be done. First stop is an outdoor market where there were bargains in clothing and household goods. Fun with haggling. Next stop is the famous Commercial Street. Now if images of Oxford Street or Buchanan Street come to mind let me assure you this hectic shopping area is nothing like that. Bangalore has the worst pavements I’ve seen anywhere, so vigilance is a must to avoid accidents. Crossing roads is a risky business as all manner of vehicles jostle for space against zillions of others. Tiny shops up wooden steps are squeezed in between larger stores. Shopping bags usually have to be handed in to security too. After a few hours Amargit has a few bargains and I’m struggling to find the colour, or style I’d be happy to be seen in! Too many crazy patterns and weird colour combinations….I start to feel dizzy just looking at them. And my ideas of filling up a suitcase with quality cotton and unique T-shirts are fading as I see the strange styles and some prices much dearer than Primark! Lunch break is called for…a thali (mix of spicy curries, rice, soup (fiery hot), pickle, nan bread and chai in Woodies . Cost for two was 400 rupees (6 euros) but the toilet left a lot to be desired…..although it’s better than most!
Ready to get back on the road, our next stop in Brigade Road was to buy a new camera. Now I can start recording all this!
FIRST DAY IN INDIA…
Feeling refreshed and ready to start the planned shopping day, Alistair and I left to walk to nearby shopping mall. What a lovely gardened urbanisation…let´s take a photo! Oh no….camera not working. Called in at camera shop to get it repaired. Guy tells me it can’t be fixed. Hmmmm Is he just wanting to sell me a new one?. Must seek second opinion. Disappointed not to be loading up pictures on this Blog.
First Indian breakfast consisted of round rice cakes (Idlis) served with two small bowls of sauce…one spicy and the other liquid coconut chutney and then tried Masala Dosa which is a salty/sweet buttery pancake in a triangle shape and inside is spiced potato. This is also with the same dipping sauces. Trying not to think of the calories.
Alistair returned home to allow Amargit to join me for some retail therapy. I had packed very few clothes as I had this idea of buying lots of good quality bargain cotton clothes in Indian styles. After a few shops I was getting disheartened. Then a half hour taxi through busy, noisy Bangalore to a well-known store called Max cheered me up. A medium kurta , a short kurta (tops), a dupatta (crinkly scarf), and salwar (very baggy trousers) cost about 20 euros. I now feel authentically dressed…photos will follow! In such a hot country what surprises me is the women’s trouser styles. They are either very tight leggings which bunch up around ankles (too clingy for comfort) or huge baggy things with loads of pleats and fabric (“Does my bum look big in this”?). Comparing clothing with what we wear in the heat of Spain, it’s quite different. No shorts, bare arms or shoulders shown….but long pants and sleeves for protection against mozzies is a must. So far I haven´t seen any T-shirts that I would wear at home. Tomorrow is another shopping day…..I am seriously in need of more clothes.
First Indian breakfast consisted of round rice cakes (Idlis) served with two small bowls of sauce…one spicy and the other liquid coconut chutney and then tried Masala Dosa which is a salty/sweet buttery pancake in a triangle shape and inside is spiced potato. This is also with the same dipping sauces. Trying not to think of the calories.
Alistair returned home to allow Amargit to join me for some retail therapy. I had packed very few clothes as I had this idea of buying lots of good quality bargain cotton clothes in Indian styles. After a few shops I was getting disheartened. Then a half hour taxi through busy, noisy Bangalore to a well-known store called Max cheered me up. A medium kurta , a short kurta (tops), a dupatta (crinkly scarf), and salwar (very baggy trousers) cost about 20 euros. I now feel authentically dressed…photos will follow! In such a hot country what surprises me is the women’s trouser styles. They are either very tight leggings which bunch up around ankles (too clingy for comfort) or huge baggy things with loads of pleats and fabric (“Does my bum look big in this”?). Comparing clothing with what we wear in the heat of Spain, it’s quite different. No shorts, bare arms or shoulders shown….but long pants and sleeves for protection against mozzies is a must. So far I haven´t seen any T-shirts that I would wear at home. Tomorrow is another shopping day…..I am seriously in need of more clothes.
DONCHA JUST LOVE TRAVELLING?
All the hassles? Delays? Unexpected occurrences? All the paper needed. The technology needed to handle online booking, printing off boarding passes (that´s when the ink in your PC decides to dry up and the paper jams). And so many people asking to see your ticket….which means hunting through pockets in the rucksack while trying to keep an eye on luggage. Then hauling the dammed suitcase up on to the train, bus, security belt, luggage rack….. It only weighed 20 kilos at home but add that to the rucksack which seems to be gaining weight with every hour of the journey. And of course, being a woman, the shoulder bag which is stuffed to the gunnels….shoulders aching and only hours into the trip. Happy travelling. What do others do to make this hassle-free or is this a pipe dream?
And even before leaving the house, so many last minute things to do. Yes I did decide to do two washings. Yes I did decide to wash the floors. Yes the basura (rubbish) needs to be taken out….etc…etc.
Despite all the wonders of modern technology, surely travelling used to be less hassle, no? Or maybe it´s just another sign of ´getting on´ in years. I´m ready for a shoulder massage and am only on the high speed AVE from Valencia to Madrid. No WIFI either while hurtling along at 250 kilometers per hour. It´s dark outside so no views….well they´d probably be just a blurr anyway.
Hallo Mein Deutschlehrer! Ich habe ihn gesagt dass ich wurde ein bisschen, jeden Tag auf Deutsch schreiben. That´s enough for today…
Ok so far so good…
Para que lo sepáis mis amigos… hablantes españoles…
Oliva – Gandia- Valencia-change station-Ave to Madrid (arrived 15 mins early)- bus to airport-(2degrees and cold waiting for hotel bus pickup)-Hotel Axor (excellent). Midnight and about 4 hours sleep. Hotel bus to airport- Air France to Paris.
Now here´s where it starts to go astray… Zero degrees and plane is de-iced. Arrived at Paris a bit late. No worries. Only a 25 minute fast walk to other terminal. Arrived to a huge crowd slowly going through only two lines. Getting worried about time. Asked twice to staff. It´s OK..they will wait for you was the reply. Well they lied. Got to boarding gate…..fermé…cerrado….tancat…closed….geschliest!!!!!!!
Staff directed me to customer services of Air France who were quite unperturbed that the airport staff had told lies (they are not our staff…was the retort). Another woman arrived beside me…a lovely Indian lady, also going to Bangalore. Her flight from Zurich arrived a bit late and she received the same replies as I had….No worries!! So their solution was to put us on an Oman Air flight to Muskrat..WHERE?!!! Then we were to catch another flight to Bangalore. So we were sent away to another part of airport. We asked for help but the seven people working in this sector were hopeless. One said we may need visas to go to Oman!!!! So we decided to return to Air France to say we wanted to be put in an hotel overnight and fly out at the original flight time the following day. Believe me this took a lot of searching around airport. We hadn’t eaten ..apart from un trés petit croissant served onboard and were hungry, thirsty, tired, stressed and totally pissed off (súper enfadadas) with Air France and airport staff. They refused to put us up in hotel so back to plan B….Third time through all the security checks and wondering if our luggage would find us at the final destination!
Oman Air flight staff was as flight staff should be. We got the best in-flight meals I’ve had in a long time. And Runa, my travelling companion, was great company and we had some laughs over our experiences. So we arrived at Muskrat (only saw inside of the airport) then discovered that there was a 4 hour delay for the Bangalore flight. Hope you are still following this saga… To end this part..we did get to Bangalore, our luggage did too, and we were ONLY 10 hours behind schedule. We bid each other a fond farewell with promises to meet up before I head back.
An hour´s taxi ride to Alistair and Amargit´s home in the suburbs of Bangalore and a much needed tea. An ayurvedic masseuse came to give me a thorough oiling and pummelling of aching muscles (450 rupees….6Euros)…a bargain. Later on helped their 8 year old daughter , Anou, with homework. Their other daughter Jaya has chickenpox! I have my own bedroom ensuite and slept about 10 hours.
And even before leaving the house, so many last minute things to do. Yes I did decide to do two washings. Yes I did decide to wash the floors. Yes the basura (rubbish) needs to be taken out….etc…etc.
Despite all the wonders of modern technology, surely travelling used to be less hassle, no? Or maybe it´s just another sign of ´getting on´ in years. I´m ready for a shoulder massage and am only on the high speed AVE from Valencia to Madrid. No WIFI either while hurtling along at 250 kilometers per hour. It´s dark outside so no views….well they´d probably be just a blurr anyway.
Hallo Mein Deutschlehrer! Ich habe ihn gesagt dass ich wurde ein bisschen, jeden Tag auf Deutsch schreiben. That´s enough for today…
Ok so far so good…
Para que lo sepáis mis amigos… hablantes españoles…
Oliva – Gandia- Valencia-change station-Ave to Madrid (arrived 15 mins early)- bus to airport-(2degrees and cold waiting for hotel bus pickup)-Hotel Axor (excellent). Midnight and about 4 hours sleep. Hotel bus to airport- Air France to Paris.
Now here´s where it starts to go astray… Zero degrees and plane is de-iced. Arrived at Paris a bit late. No worries. Only a 25 minute fast walk to other terminal. Arrived to a huge crowd slowly going through only two lines. Getting worried about time. Asked twice to staff. It´s OK..they will wait for you was the reply. Well they lied. Got to boarding gate…..fermé…cerrado….tancat…closed….geschliest!!!!!!!
Staff directed me to customer services of Air France who were quite unperturbed that the airport staff had told lies (they are not our staff…was the retort). Another woman arrived beside me…a lovely Indian lady, also going to Bangalore. Her flight from Zurich arrived a bit late and she received the same replies as I had….No worries!! So their solution was to put us on an Oman Air flight to Muskrat..WHERE?!!! Then we were to catch another flight to Bangalore. So we were sent away to another part of airport. We asked for help but the seven people working in this sector were hopeless. One said we may need visas to go to Oman!!!! So we decided to return to Air France to say we wanted to be put in an hotel overnight and fly out at the original flight time the following day. Believe me this took a lot of searching around airport. We hadn’t eaten ..apart from un trés petit croissant served onboard and were hungry, thirsty, tired, stressed and totally pissed off (súper enfadadas) with Air France and airport staff. They refused to put us up in hotel so back to plan B….Third time through all the security checks and wondering if our luggage would find us at the final destination!
Oman Air flight staff was as flight staff should be. We got the best in-flight meals I’ve had in a long time. And Runa, my travelling companion, was great company and we had some laughs over our experiences. So we arrived at Muskrat (only saw inside of the airport) then discovered that there was a 4 hour delay for the Bangalore flight. Hope you are still following this saga… To end this part..we did get to Bangalore, our luggage did too, and we were ONLY 10 hours behind schedule. We bid each other a fond farewell with promises to meet up before I head back.
An hour´s taxi ride to Alistair and Amargit´s home in the suburbs of Bangalore and a much needed tea. An ayurvedic masseuse came to give me a thorough oiling and pummelling of aching muscles (450 rupees….6Euros)…a bargain. Later on helped their 8 year old daughter , Anou, with homework. Their other daughter Jaya has chickenpox! I have my own bedroom ensuite and slept about 10 hours.
miércoles, 11 de enero de 2012
Getting prepared..at last....
Am a Newbie to this blogging. Thanks to Betty in Ponticherry, (Betty-in-India) for sharing her blog and hence the idea. Funny how we sometimes keep bumping in to certain people without getting to know them too well. You know the kind of people who turn up in the same places as you over a few years? Well that´s the case with Betty (who´s french but lives...or rather, lived....in Spain until recently). I was at a beautiful New Year retreat at Solterreno in Vall de Laguar, Alicante and found out that Betty had headed off to South India. Funny, I thought, I´m heading to that very spot myself in a few weeks. Mmmmm maybe we still have something to learn from each other or a message to pass on? Anyway the rough plan is to meet up over there at least to get a photo taken to prove we are both really there!
I was getting a wee bitty anxious about my lack of travel itinerary. Should I do it all on my own, living from day to day, going with the flow, being a wandering Wilma? Should I hook up with a stranger on Travbuddy.com? Or should I be safe and sensible and get an agency to work out a plan for me? Yup... I´m at that age when sometimes it all seems more relaxing to pay more and get someone else to do the leg work. However..... I don´t want to sound too fuddy duddy and staid...so there´s the second half of the journey still to work on. We´ll see how it goes with the trip planned through the highly recommended Indian Panorama.
Started putting some things in a suitcase... decicions, decisions. I can´t be the only one who never knows what to take and what to leave behind. Now THERE would be a great business idea! An agency which plans your trip AND packs your luggage too!!
Off to beddybyes to dream of inspiring, exciting India...zzzzzz
I was getting a wee bitty anxious about my lack of travel itinerary. Should I do it all on my own, living from day to day, going with the flow, being a wandering Wilma? Should I hook up with a stranger on Travbuddy.com? Or should I be safe and sensible and get an agency to work out a plan for me? Yup... I´m at that age when sometimes it all seems more relaxing to pay more and get someone else to do the leg work. However..... I don´t want to sound too fuddy duddy and staid...so there´s the second half of the journey still to work on. We´ll see how it goes with the trip planned through the highly recommended Indian Panorama.
Started putting some things in a suitcase... decicions, decisions. I can´t be the only one who never knows what to take and what to leave behind. Now THERE would be a great business idea! An agency which plans your trip AND packs your luggage too!!
Off to beddybyes to dream of inspiring, exciting India...zzzzzz
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