will my lackadaisical approach to travel work?

25/3/11 continued...

As our day time had been somewhat unorganized we went to see some traditional Kathakali theater in the evning. The pictures of the crazy make up made it look fabulous. The reality was that there was no speaking, and everything was communicated through hand movements and 9 types of facial expression. It was a combination between a bad drag act and a poor pantomime. James has better facial expressions. We were glad we had opted for the tourist version as the real version goes on for 12 hours- our 1 hour was plenty. In its defense I think that had we understood the hand movements and the wailing/singing of the drummer the play may have had more context and we would have understood it better but I think we will limit our attendance to bad acting to Canal Street.

We are due to travel by bus to the backwaters today. This is the first time James has not booked tickets and we are just turning up to jump on a bus. I have identified what I think is a suitable bus and what I think is the pick up point but only time will tell if it works. For my sake I hope it does as my lackadaisical approach to travel is at a polar opposite to James views on how transport should be approached…

More resting then beer

24/3/11

We must have sleeping sickness as we are doing rater a lot of it, either that or the heat combined with relaxing means that sleeping for 10 hours in no problem. As it was so hot (32 degrees centigrade and 60% humidity) and the hotel with a swimming pool is just across the road we had another day by the pool. Much reading of books and playing cards interspersed with a trip to the post office for some stamps. The evening heralded a trip to the local bar… one with a license this time. One thing lead to another and we had had 4 beers and it was closing time so we wobbled back to our accommodation for some more sleep and to brew our hangovers.

25/3/11

Woke with the predicted hangover ate breakfast and walked 2km to the local palace and synagogue. Both closed as its Friday so walked back had lunch and a nap. May do something later possibly maybe…

Note to mums- We are off to the backwaters for 5 days from the 26/3/11 so don’t worry if we don’t blog during this time.

Oh to have the sexual organs of a woman

23/3/11 continued

First of all thanks to Alison Hodge and Kristina for the comments- I am glad you are enjoying the blog. I have now changed the settings and comments should be posted automatically without delay. Kristina can you face book me as I can’t reply to your comments. Now on with the blog for what could have been an embarrassing afternoon…

We decided to have a traditional Indian all over oil massage. I went first and was directed to take off my clothes but stopping at my underpants I was encouraged to take these off too. The massage man then walked towards me with a piece of cloth 10 cm wide and 25com long with three bits of string attached. He then put the material over my unmentionables and tied the sting around my waist and formed the last piece into a thong up my bum. No the most flattering look with the potential for everything just to pop out.

I was next directed to what can only be described as a plastic autopsy bench complete with drain holes and a raised lip to prevent spillage. Lying on my back the man then daubed me in oil and rubbed me from head to toe missing no part of my body with the unmentionables inevitably falling out of there pouch. Next I lay on my front and felt the man take off my thong and rub me from head to toe again. On an already oily front this resulted in me being push up and down the massage/autopsy table. Now this combined with being touched in placed normally reserved for James made me wish for the genitals of a woman as I was getting concerned about becoming aroused. The man was no Adonis and this helped along with recounting the Sedbergh river walk in my mind step by step.

After an hour of this, not at all relaxed I emerged having successfully managed to avoid embracement and left giving James a little warning and a knowing look. I think there was fear in his eyes!

“please stand clear this elephant is reversing.”

22/3/11

We got up early and rented some moped to explore another Island. This time we had helmets but a stretch of water stood between us and our intended destination. We found the car ferry, joined a relatively orderly queue and watched the other cars disembark. Then the engines revved and we had to board the boat. As neither of us are the most accomplished riders of the oversized lawnmowers that we had rented this was the cue for a Loral and Hardy moment. I squeezed on and James had to wait to allow a large lorry to get on. I parked my bike on a ramp and consequently had to hold the hand break for the journey and James lost a flip flop when trying to get off the ferry when it arrived.

Having “successfully” got to the other island we set off along the only road with the vaguest of directions. Follow the road for 5km passing over 4 bridges. Some 15km and 10 bridges later we found the turning we were looking for and headed towards the beech. On the way we noticed a large number of red flags and hammer and sickle signs. Thinking we had wandered into some form of paradise for Colin and Jean Grandfield we consulted the guide book and found that Kochin has had a freely elected communist government for 30 years. The result is the best literacy and heath rates in the whole of India.

Fortunately the day out was about the adventure of bike riding and seeing the backwaters as we were somewhat under whelmed by the beech. The coast was littered with every conceivable type of rubbish and there was about 2 meters of sand before the rough rough sea came in. Being British we decided that the best course of action was lunch and a beer followed by recreating a scene from Blackpool. We hunkered down on a sun longer and hoped that our stuff would not be washed out to sea. It was significantly hooter then blackpool but just about as windy! After a relaxing hour or so we decided that we would explore the backwater area and we were rewarded with a number of beautiful sites. We saw anchovies being dried on the hot tarmac, a cow bathing in the river, palm trees running down to still waters and many fishermen.

On our return journey we got into the horn blowing and enjoyed the ride. Reaching the heady speeds of 40km per hour whilst watching for the demonic bus drivers we coasted back to the ferry. The return journey passed without incident and feeling pleased with ourselves we headed out for an evening plying cards, overlooking the sea and drinking special tea.

23/3/11

Rising at 6am we set off to and elephant training centre. Here we watched the baby elephants be washed and wow what a sight. The elephants lay down in the river and were scrubbed with the outside of a coconut. We thought the 5 year olds looked big (8ft tall) until a fully grown elephant lumbered into view. My god it was massive and had huge tusks and feet the size of dinner plates that resembled the underside of a mosisan slipper. In loped down a steep bank and dutifully lay down for its wash.. At this point it was clear that health and safety risk assessments had not reached India as this elephant lumbered past us within touching distance. When it turned round it was advisable to move for fear of it knocking you over. In the UK we would have been 10 meters back and the elephant probably fitted with revising lights and appropriate sounder “please stand clear this elephant is reversing.”

An oasis and a colonial day

20/3/11

Once we arrive in Kochin we grabbed some breakfast and jumped in a tuc tuc to the ferry station. Here James was left with the bags and I joined the ticket queue. For 40 minutes the queue grew steadily longer and the ticket men sat and watched. At some unknown signal the ticket inspector sauntered over to his booth and began dispensing tickets at 20pence each. My 40 minute wait had left me drenched in sweat and that combined with the overnight train meant that I smelled rather fruity.

After our 15 minute boat ride we go to Fort Kochin, walked for 20 minutes and found the accommodation. Upon entering we found an oasis in a country of dirty and poorly fitted fixtures. Everything was clean the lights worked, the fan worked nothing leaked and it did not smell. I commented that there must be a James like person behind the scenes (he always deals with the soft furnishings and ensures my work is up to a good standard). We were proved right when the owner told us that his wife from her death bed had demanded that the accommodation be built to her exacting standards. Well we will be eternally grateful for this.

After a quick shower we went out for some lunch and as we were by the coast things were looking promising on the protein front for me. We both had a lovely plate of fish and chips and marveled at the lack of rise or curry. Alas it can not continue for too long as el scroogeo deemed the move away from cheep back street restaurants to be too expensive for regular frequenting… Lunch was accompanied by special tea serve in a tea pot made with no milk or sugar and consisting of water, barley and hops. This was necessary to circumvent the licensing laws and made the whole thing rather clandestine and fun.

21/3/11

After a fabulous 12 hour sleep we emerged from our hotel and alighted on a local hotel with a pool and a colonial aura. We spent the day swimming, sitting and reading and began to understand why the English stayed in India. Surrounding oneself with luxury, having servants and creating a world that did not resemble the chaos, dust and heat outside must have made India a different world for those who came to tame the continent…James was heard to murmur “I am sure they never traveled 3^rd class though”

3rd class trains

19/3/11

We colleted the shirts from the city market. All of them were lovely and fitted so well. They were a bit dirty but James thinks he can wash that out. When you have clothes made in an up market slum I suppose things do get dirty. Seeing the tailor again reminded me of his insane head wiggling. When ever I asked him a question he would smile and wiggle his head from side to side which could mean yes, no maybe. I would counter with the same question and get the same response. In the end I had to wiggle my head from side to side too and ask if this was yes or no. God only knows what we looked like. After this it was train time........................

Here follows James' entry re the train.

Delhi Belly. Sultans Revenge. Code Brown. Or my own invention “Rubble in the Bungle”. Whatever you call it when you are suffering from the “Runs” there are certain things that you want and need. Clean, private sleeping accommodation, preferably with crisp fresh sheets and soft firm pillows. Clean, private toileting facilities, preferably those where you are fully aware of the previous users of said appliance and a working flush. Quiet space where you can be alone, to clutch your spasming stomach dramatically should this be required, and the absence of strangers should “the worst” happen. Finally and perhaps most importantly, quilted triple-ply toilet tissue, ideally with the addition of those moistened handy-wipes, to ensure a hygienic finish. These things were not to be in Incredible India (™).

The train journey on this date had always been planned. My plans (finalised in my mind at home on the sofa in Didsbury) had been for 1st Class (an closed and lockable compartment of no more than 4 people including ourselves – sometimes just us 2), Air-Conditioned and Fan Circulated (India is bloomin’ hot you know) on a wide padded bed with supplied pillows, sheets and blankets. All this could have been arranged from home. It could have been booked months before. But it was not. My wonderful husband for all of his wisdom had decided that we needed “flexibility” on our travels, should the prevalent mood to stay one place longer or shorter etc. Whilst I did, and do not, actively disagree with his sentiment, this relaxed approach did mean that when it came to booking onward travel, all of the seats on the train seemed to have been fully booked for the next week. After some discussion and negotiation with a gentleman from a tourist travel service (literally every 2nd shop in India) and the dispatching of a no doubt lowly paid gentleman to the train station 10km away, it seemed that train tickets were available. But no 1st Class AC was available. No 2nd Class AC was available. No 1st Class Non-AC was available. The only reservable “accommodation” for our overnight journey was to be in Sleeper Class.

This meant traveling amongst the masses. Lady James really was designed to be in India in colonial times and I really was a bit unsure at the prospect of this. Not because I don’t like the Indians – they are truly lovely – but I appreciate my sleep and comfort – intensified by the reasons given above. Sleepers seem to be the way that most Indians (apart from the most poor) travel overnight on trains. No compartment. No curtains. Bars for windows. No sheets, pillows or blankets. Sleeping 3 high on what I can only describe as a shelf – thinking I will bloody fall off this thing. 6 foot, 4 inches, much much taller than most Indians. Hard, pretty grubby, basic but to be fair, functional. Toilets – now a choice – the Western  Toilet with what appeared to be a fossilised lump of faeces on the lid and no flush and no running water, or the Indian Squat Style Toilet, with no flush or running water (but will the delightful omission of no dried poo-poo). Human waste in case you were wondering goes straight onto the tracks down a dark hole.

Myself and Luke had already prepped ourselves for the journey so managed to get settled pretty quickly, with bags chained to the underside of Lukes Bed/Shelf, and my vital items, water, ear plugs, eye mask, industrial strength sleeping tablets, good to go. As it turned out the sleeper was not a contradiction in terms. I actually slept quite well. Once you got used the usual noises of the train, horns, metal-on-metal, Tea Sellers, the hustle and bustle, trains on the other side passing past your sleeping head, whirring fans and foot traffic that this. Whilst not quite convinced by the benefits of lower class travel (such a snob I know) I tried to
be the backpacker traveler type that we need to be to survive Asia and put it down to experience. Now where is that Train booking website.

paradoxes everywhere we look

We are having much fun in India. It’s mad, chaotic dirty, dusty and some days you love it and some days you hate it. I think you could at best describe it as organized chaos!

How can a country fill us with excitement and joy one day and have us wanting to leave the next? Is it because there are paradoxes everywhere we look? Are the road users are the best in the world or the worst. They have no apparent rules but also there are very few scratches on the cars.  Is India the most chaotic place or is it all just a mirage as things do generally run on time and every day millions of meals are collected from the workers wife and delivered to him at the office. This without the need for writing or electronic tagging- I would like to see DHL do that! Why do the Indians have no qualms at staring at us for a good look but do not bat an eye lid when we walk through the market which is a poor but busy thriving place where there are few white people? Why did we have a bad image of India in terms of public toilets but so far they have all been fairly clean and not smelly… I have visited worse on the European continent.

Well what ever the answer may be it’s our last day in Bangalore. We have packed, James has checked under everything and inside every draw and we have left the bags at the hotel. This caused James some concern as the bags we last seen leaving with a porter to be stored. James would have liked to see the resting place for the bags but can’t quite fathom that if we did everything for ourselves there would be no reason to keep 10 porters for the 20 room hotel.

The rest of the day holds some more internet time, a trip to the market to pick up our shirts and then the sleeper train… watch this space for a special update from James on the trials and tribulations of 3^rd class travel.

Anyone for a shirt...

14/3/11

On our last day in Hampi we decided to book some tickets for our onward travel later that month. The internet defeated us so we went to the travel agency.  Well the saying TII (That is India) that we have come to use about ten times a day was never more apt. Despite the internet showing that the train was booked the agent managed to whistle up 2 tickets within 4 hours. This did take some phone calls and someone physically going to the train station to collect our tickets. That said we still fell down the Indian time vortex as we spent and hour and a half discussing this with him. Anyway the bad news is that we are in a general sleeper carriage as opposed to our 1^st or 2^nd class carriage that James has previously booked. This has caused some concern in James but he has promised to be brave…

The three of us then headed to Hampi's main temple. After depositing our shoes before entering the temple we found out that our western feet were not used to the Indian temperatures. What followed can only be described as the ministry of funny walks. We darted and dashed from shady spot to shady spot. After getting used to the 3^rd degree burns we were blessed after making a “donation” and wandered around the temple. The monkeys rules this place and have free run. It was really rather interesting watching them.

Our next adventure was the overnight train to Bangalore. Our tickets did not have seat numbers just the carriage (1^st class I’ll have you know!). This caused Mia and James much concern as they wanted to know where they would be sitting. My attempts to calm the situation by saying that as long as we get on the train (even in the wrong carriage as the trains are so huge) all will be ok. The inspector (of which there are many as India railways is the worlds 2^nd largest employer) will send us to the right carriage.  James tried to talk to the station conductors in order to get clarity but was none the wiser at the end. When the train arrived we got on and sat in a berth. A number of staff came to see us and in the end we were allowed to say in the carriage that we had commandeered. This was after James inviting the porter to get into the spare bed. James will maintain that this is because he thought the porter was anther passenger but we all know he likes short men.

We settled down to sleep duly setting our alarms for 30miniutes before the train was due at Bangalore. Indian trains have a reputation for being late so we thought this was  more than enough time. A full hour early we pull into a station and didn’t move on. I got up to find out why and it appeared that we were in Bangalore and we need to get off. James and Mia were given a rude awaking with the lights being flicked on and me shouting get up get up were are here. We stumbled off the train and into a taxi (after some serious negotiation on price)

15/3/11

Feeling adventurous we decided not to bother going to sleep and headed out of the hotel at 7am to watch the city wake up and to have a coffee. What followed was 3 hours of walking round trying to work out if the locals ate anything and why nothing opened before 10.30. We thought we had brought Mia to the Indian version of Bucharest and for those of you who remember our 1^st trip we did not like this place.

As the day progressed we decided that it was going to be ok so long as we never wanted to eat or drink before 10am. After a lunch and an explore we went to the cinema and watched Manu weds Tanu a bollywood blockbuster. Before the film commenced we stood for the national anthem. The film was in Hindi with a few English words thrown in. That said we just about followed the pilot and loved the dancing and colures.

16/3/11

James and Mia had a sleep in and I went on an explore of the suburb of Bangalore that we were staying in.  It was bustling, hot and fun. I loved all the goings on the beeping cars, the smog, the colours, food and general activity. After getting nice an lost for a few hours I retuned to Mia and James and headed into the city markets. Again a huge mass of people all working away. The food market was huge, and each road leading off specialized in something be it stationary, toys or  jewelry. We alighted at the tailor section and commissioned a shirt for James for the princely sum of 5gpb. Lunch was at a locals café were fortunately they had a special menu written in English. Being tight I did just check the prices were the same. For 2gbp we had a lovely lunch of rice, bread curry and a fresh juice. After another hair raising Tuk Tuk ride we arrived back at the main tourist / middle class India area where we had a coffee that cost more as much as  our lunch. More cinema followed. This time a god awful America saves the world flick.

17/3/11

Rising early we boarded our taxi to Mysore which was supposed to be 2 hours away. 3 hours later fully anesthetized  to bad driving we arrived. Feeling rater hungry we eventually found a café before heading off to the Mysore place. We were shown round by Mr Mhutti  who was a tiny and aged India who was ferocious if anyone who had not paid tried to tag along on the tour or tried to take photos. WOW the palace  was amazing. The architecture was Hindu, Muslim and christen. The empire was in full swing when it was built so there was masses of English tiles columns and influences. The king liked the best so there was also the best bits from, across the world ranging from Italian marble to a crystal chair from bohemia… The most amazing aspect of was the paintings that some how followed you from left to right. From the left the subjects were facing you and as you moved to the right they would be facing you again. In a time before 3D glasses this must have amazed everyone who saw it and by the sounds of things lots of the locals would have seen it as 21,000 people were employed in the palace.

The return journey was again three hours but it did leave ample time to begin to understand the rules of the road. Undertaking, overtaking and weaving in and out of the traffic is the accepted method of driving. Beeping the horn is to inform people you are there or coming though but is not to be used in anger. If there is no right turn it is acceptable to drive down the wrong side of the road to get to your destination (including the school bus) and if you want to transport an elephant simply have it stand in the back of your flat bed truck and drive.

18/3/11

Mia left today and in homage to her we had an omelet as mia ate an incredible number of eggs whilst in incredible India. We also returned to the city market to collect James shirt, liked it some much that we ordered another 9 for us to ware to work when we return. Not sure how we are going to get them home yet but at 5.8 gbp per 100% cotton tailored shirt we will worry about that later. Hilary expect a delivery sometime, possibly maybe??? 

Why is it that…

Why is it that…

·         cows always walk towards you on the road so they can see the cars approach

·         the chickens and assorted animals wait to the very last minute to move out of the way

·         in the space of 2 weeks James has gone from Clarins soap to hand soap without complaint

·         James has managed to burn a hole in his oesophagus from his malaria tablets by taking them on night without without water and when lying down (this is not advised)  and finds eating painful but has a good excuse to go the chemist and buy drugs that would be prescription only in the UK (Carol- he is ok just a bit sore)

·         mosquitoes love me and don’t bother James. Luke 23 bites James 1 bite Mia 7 bites

·         despite sweating all day and night we don’t smell

·         we find that we don’t need as many clothes as we thought and you know we did not bring many to begin with

·         I am not missing meat despite following a vegetarian diet for the last 14 days. I do crave protein so am now eating eggs but have not go to habitually eating tofu

·         James is unable to communicate with the monkeys no matter how hard he tries

·         The train James is trying to book appears to be booked up for the next 6 weeks

·         Despite the cricket being show continuously we still can’t get excited about it or even show a flicker of interest

·         Indians waggle their heads from left to right to indicate a mix between yes, no, I don’t know and maybe

Just too British to Indian Roads

11/3/11

A very early start saw us board a taxi at 6am and catch train to Hospet which was 8 hours away. As we progress we realised that within the chaos there is order. There may be mad queuing for breakfast (curry and rice without a spoon so hand eating was perfected] the train may be arriving soon (40 mins late) there may be a huge rush to get onto the train and uncertainty about the seats, a self important ticket inspector, a 40 minute wait at a station whilst the windows were cleaned, the carriage swept and mopped and all out war at our final station as people tried to get on the train but we did arrive only 1 hour late in the seats we pre booked on the internet. We were also offered a copious amount of chai and food by local people who boarded the train at each stop and plied there business.

After some haggling we jumped into a tuk tuk for mad dash to Hampi- there was no urgency on our part but the driver had modeled his driving on the wacky races and was destined to get there as soon as possible at all costs. That said we did break down on the level crossing for 5 minutes. Our taxi driver was not too concerned and played with the fuel source and got us going again. I on the other hand kept a vigil eye out for approaching trains. After paying an entrance fee to get into Hampi (I think someone wanted to get come cash and printed some official looking receipts) we were delivered to our river crossing that would take us to our accommodation.

Balancing our bags in a boat with 25 other people (on a boat build for 15 max) we were safely delivered across the river feeling very hot and sticky. We found our accommodation flopped down drank a beer and went to bed.

12/2/11

The next we were up washed dressed and out for some temple visiting by 8am. After crossing the river again we watched the temple elephant go for a wash in the river next to the locals. The elephant was very well behaved, lay down and was scrubbed for 40 minutes. After a leisurely breakfast and some harassment from a tuk tuk driver who waited for us to finish our breakfast in order to get our business we set off. Hampi is a very holy place and there are over 2500 temples many in ruins and many new. The driver took us to a selection and they were amazing. Centuries old with intricate carvings, and structures rising up out of the ground into the sky. James particularly like the monkey god and the queen’s bath which was more akin to a swimming pool.

After a spot of lunch we hired another tuk tuk to go into Hospet. The driver was fair and negotiated what we knew to be a “good price” and even said he would wait in Hospet for two hours in order to bring us back. James was naturally suspicious but it turned out that the driver was a lovely man who even rang his mate to translate when we wanted to be taken to a different shop. For two hours were traipsed around many a shop looking for five thick 1 meter lengths of material as our friend Kay said she would sew it into a blanket for us. Being that we live in the UK we wanted thick material being that India is rather hot thin material was in abundance. After a number of quizzical looks some Indian head wiggling and a visit to a number of shops we struck gold and were lead into a back room. Here we selected our first length of material and had something to show the other shop keepers when trying to explain what we wanted. After a very enjoyable if not hot and dusty few hours we had amassed 4 lengths and had provided entertainment to the locals who obviously thought we were mad traipsing from shop to shop for such a small amount of material. We could never make a sari out of only 1 meter…

13/3/11

Again we were up and eating breakfast by 8.30am… well when it goes dark at 6 and there’s not much to do we tend to be in bed by 10pm. As the over the water place where we staying had no bridge and only a limited number of cars we decided to hire mopeds and explore. So after negotiating the amount of fuel we needed- two water bottles full of petrol we set off. Mia was my passenger and James had his own bike. Despite the lack of cars there were dogs, chickens, people, cows, mopeds and the odd bus to avoid oh and no helmets… We often got to the heady speed on 30km (James insists this was 40km) per hour but more frequently it was less as the roads were in a poor condition.

Our bravery was rewarded as we drove for an hour and passed though a number of small villages, nearly drove into a wedding event, found the river, were over taken by a number of bicycles, saw may a beautiful sight (rice fields, rivers, temples and the countryside. The further we went the more interested the children became. We were always greeted with a wave or a hello and a few of the braver ones would try and catch hold of you and ask your name as a preamble to asking for some money.

After a few hours of sitting we headed back home unfortunately we got a little lost and had to ask for directions. We were sent a number of ways and eventually arrived back at the accommodation from a very different direction to when we set off. We reflected that we had a fab day but were just a little bit too British for Indian roads as we did not beep with enough passion or frequency to announce to the world that we were coming going or had been somewhere….

If its time to die then ok… after this we relaxed

9/3/11

We actually did something today. We got up at a respectable time and went into the jungle. The guide was sexy and full of Irish charm and the 2 French girls were well just French and aloof.  The spice farm was amazing. They were growing vanilla, coffee, pineapple, pepper, chilies, bananas, and cinnamon. It all looked rather hard work. We were gently walking around sweating profusely and the laborers were shimmying up trees collecting food and not even breaking a sweat.  We were brave and ate everything that came off the plants without dousing it in alco-jell… pretty amazing considering that I have not eaten meat for a week and we all have fastidious hand hygiene.

We were invited to climb a tree using only a rope. I tried and failed Mia and James looked on and the guide shot up the 20 meter tree like it was a walk in the park and then jumped between the trees up in the air. How he is still alive is anyone’s guess.  When it came to eating bush food Mia and I gamely tried the ants that were on offer. Mia’s tasted of lemon curd mine was bitter and it bit my tongue. “relief” followed in the form of a chili… I think steam flowed from our ears and the guides wet themselves.

After a scrumptious lunch we headed into the game reserve and stared our trek. 1 hour down hill through thick jungle, full of huge spider webs following a guide who would run after any snake he saw in a bid to catch it. Whilst I was grateful the snake was moving in the opposite direction to me I did want the guide to survive as the thought of getting out on our own seemed remote.

After  30 mins of walking down hill with mia slipping at regular points but trying not to put her hands down due to the spiky plants that were guaranteed to give an infection we hit the half way point. It was now that the guide decided to tell us about the black cobras. “oh yes there are lots of them round here so there are.” At this point we should have said nothing and continued in ignorance but stupidly we asked what the black cobras were. “oh just the most poisonous snake in the world with enough venom to kill 15 men in 20 mins and the nearest antidote is in Thailand. There are of course those little snakes on the plants that shoot venom into the eyes to blind you and that’s not reversible.” So  for we were frightened of the jungle but all three of us were scared shitless. We walked on with our eyes scanning desperately for these snakes. After another 30 mins I decided that if this was the day to die then so be it and relax (very slightly)

We were soon rewarded for our walk with an oasis of calm water with a small  waterfall. We swam, relaxed and took photos but then all of a sudden our guide disappeared up an improbably steep rock. Being 23 with an easy going approach to life and “no desire to hit 40” our guide looked like he was going to jump 12 meters into a pool that was 2 meters deep and 2 meters wide. Again we did not fear for his safety but our own predicament of being stuck  in the jungle and eaten by panthers. The guide had helpfully pointed out at the spice farm that the dogs had to be locked away at night as the panthers ate them!!!

Phil the guide survived  the jump and leads us up and out of the jungle, though an illegal rice paddy (clearing the jungle is illegal) and back to the camp. We  were safe, we had not died so today was not our time. That said we had not reckoned on the jeep drive back. As it was getting late Phil put his foot down in the rickety open topped jeep. There were a number of near misses with chicken, people and lorries but again we survived. As it was so fast it was windy so in homage to my mother I pulled out my scarf, wrapped it round my head and neck and kept the wind off my throat lest I get a chill… oh god I am turning into her.

10/3/11

As the previous day was strenuous we decided not to over do it. As such we did not leave the sun loungers until 4.30. At this point we join our two German friends and went dolphin spotting. We laughed all the way out, swam on a beach and relaxed for an hour or so. This fortunately made up for the less than impressive 10 seconds of dolphin we saw.

We continued on from the dolphins’ to dine with our friends (after some packing and sorting ) before heading to the internet café to speak to Carol and update the blog. We have an early start tomorrow with a 6 am taxi to the train station for our 7 hour trip to Hampi. James of course has booked advance and I have negotiated a “good price” for the taxi to the station. As Hampi is remote we will be out of contact for 4 days but upon our return we shall no doubt have more tales for the blog.

Pilates and more resting



8/3/11

Following on from our last post we made the strenuous step and had a massage. This was 30miniutes of the most vigorous, oily rubbing that we have ever experienced. Without fail each of us nearly fell over when it was finished. I liked it, James was bemused and mia bruised. The only sensible course of action after this was to head back, have a beer some food and relax some more. One beer inevitably turned into 4 and some fenney juice (a local sprit) as we got talking to the owner and two Germans Teressa (nothing like the nun with the same name and with a similar dirty sense of humor to me) Christina  (compulsive scarf buyer) two English girls (one an ex crystal meth addict who has written a book and one from Leeds for James to bond with) and a mad 50 something Londoner .

Earlier that day whilst sitting on the toilet in the open air I looked up and saw a troop of monkeys, some bats and an eagle type bird. The nature watching replaces the need for a newspaper when sitting on the thrown. It also cases James to look round furtively or walk over to the enclosed toilet for a poo without observers. It’s a bit like the zoo but in reverse… the monkeys watching us thinking how strange.

After a good night’s sleep we decided to be even more lazy and relax the seating area near our hut. After some 4 hours of reading and some breakfast we embarked on Pilates and mia photographed us for posterity.  Again we are thinking about doing something, possibly even kayaking but its hot so sitting may win out again. That said James in his element washing our clothes in a big pot… anyone seen an iron???

Oh my god there are bugs….

5/3/11

Our friend Mia joined us in incredible India. The small problem was that she flew in 5 hours before us and had to sit on a wall with the many taxi drivers. They soon cottoned on that Mia was not for moving and that if they asked her about a taxi in 5 hours tie then they may be in look. With these ground rules established mia settled in for the wait.

We arrived on time with bags and ignored all those hopeful taxi drivers who had been chatting Mia up. W opted for the pre pay counter, wrestled the receipt from several over enthusiastic drivers and found our cab. After an hour with only on or two death defying overtakes and near cow collisions we arrived in Pallalum. The ever prepared James had booked us some accommodation but this did not please the touts who tried to wave our tax drive down, offered him a cut of the sale (we think) and even chased us on a moped when we failed to stop.

 After running the gauntlet we got to the end of the road, the taxi driver departed with a general wav of the hand to indicate the direction of the accommodation. We traipsed through a number of other hut accommodation, along the beech and then like an oasis before us was the worlds most rickety bridge to our accommodation… that said had we fallen the 2 meter off the bridge I am sure we would have been fine.

Of course the location was idyllic and the owner was at pains to tell us that it was a quiet area… James had a knowing smile at this point. James and Mia go to there allocated huts and I sort out the paperwork at which point I hear a palative call of “Luke come here.” Thinking James was going to complain about the quality of the bed or something I did not rush but upon getting there James had fear in his eyes and was staring at a FROG. I was pressed into frog clearance duty, followed by investigating the bed, floor sheets for any other creepy crawlys. After checking the mosquito net or holes adding our net and securing with an elastic band James was partially placated but he was not too happy so we opted for a beer overlooking the sea. After a relaxing hour we heard an almighty crash and a full size money jumps from the tree, onto the floor through the compound and back into the jungle. This resulted in a mixture of fear, interest and kinship in James and much hilarity for Mia and I.

6/3/11

Taking it easy we rose late, sat on the beech, ate and relaxed. The food was good the scenery stunning and the bee tasty. Would write more but we really did naff all on this beautiful coast.

7/3/11

Again a late start followed by more curry for lunch. At the time of writing we are strenuously considering doing something but so far the closest we have got to actually doing anything is to book a trek in the jungle for the day after next…

Slum tour

50% of Mumbai’s population live in a slum so we thought we had best visit in order to get  a true picture of life in Mumbai. We did not want to feed on peoples poverty so we joined a company that sends 80% of the profit back to the slum… we even visited the school they run. The slum we visited is 1.75KM square and housed 1.5million people

 It was an amazing sight . This was not an area where people have given up but a thriving economic powerhouse. The GDP of the slum is sizable and the government even collects tax from the businesses that operate here. The main focus was upon recycling materials and manufacturing clothes for export. The work all looked very very hard there was no health  and safety considerations and I don’t think life expectancy is too high.

 That said people worked hard and appeared to be making the best of their lot. The children were clean and playing and the adults working hard and there was not too much of a smell.  Not to put too much gloss on the situation was very cramped and poor and the children play games such as chase and kill the rat (rat looked like it was loosing)

We found that slum dwellers are the better off poor. The street dwellers are the very poorest, always at risk of being moved on, robber and attached. Whilst I would not like to stay for any extended period in the Slum it was well worth a visit as it brought home where our cheep clothes came from and how hard  I do not work in comparison.

A shock to the senses but good fun

02/03/11

Well we made it here alive and in one piece. No bags lots and no major disasters. We got down to London on the tube and arrived at Heathrow airport. I often moan about the lack of integrated public transport but the tube delivered rightinto  Terminal 3. The very nice ladies in virgin red outfits were on hand to help us check in and explain that this was no easy jet flight. We were very excited at the prospect of complementary food and drinks on the plane.The leg room was alsosufficent for James which is saying something. We did get a bit of class envy when we say premium economy and first class. Lady James and I wold like to travel style but this may have eaten a sizable amount of our funds so we made do with some free wine and a rather nice travel mask.

Landing in Delhi introduced us to the Indian bureaucracy and timescales. Clearing customs required some forms tobe filled in an an hour wait for the chap to eye me up and down, stamp my passport and wave us through. Our bags were not on the carousel so after some head scratching we found them in a pile near by. After negotiating our way past a large number of soldiers we made it into departures for some more queuing and tickets onwards to Mumbi. A few hours later we were in the air and and then Mumbi. To our great joy our bags were first of the plane and we entered India proper.

We found our airport pick up and waited for the car. Here we were treated to the continual beeping of horns...something that we have come to realise is an essential requirement for driving. Your wheels my be miss aligned, your window hanging out but your horn will certainly work.You must annouce your arrive, departur and general direction by beeping. Failure to beep willbe interpreted as a sign of weakness. Beeping will of course not get you any were any faster

Once at the hotel we checked into the rooms and felt a little overwhelmed. Outside was a continuous stream of beeping cars, men who wantedohelp and dust. It was dark, we had traveled for 24 hours and we were tired. We both thought oh my god what have we done. Will we enjoy ourselves, will we survive? Felling the need forfood we were not brave and opted forthe hotels dining room. We have a variety of curred vegetables and with some dismay realised it was a dry hotel. This encouraged us to become braver as we wanted beer.

We ventured outside, avoided getting run over or a taxi that we did not want and south refuge in the hotel bar just up the road. All went well and we ordered a beer and then another to takeaway but when the bill came it was 50r moor than we had. We tryed to give one of the unopened bees back but the bureaucracy would not allow this a s the receipt had already been printed. Leaving James as a deposit i ventured back to the hotel to change some money. 30 mins later I arrived back to liberate James and return to the hotel and a much needed sleep.

The next day we decided that I had better venture outside. The first obstacle was crossing 4 lane the road which with the Indians unique style of driving had become 6 lanes of traffic all jostling for position and all beeping there horns. We safely navigated our way o the train station and purchased some train tickets and goton the right trin into Mumbi Central. On the ride in we saw may a shanty town and huge numbers of people. Once off the train we wealked through Mumbi. After getting thoroughly lost... that s if we ever knew were we were we alighted upon a spot we decided would be good for lunch.

Whist the menu was in English we had not idea what we were ordering but we were pleasantly surprised by a variety of pickles and fish and rice. The food was served but we were unsure about how to get it from table to mouth. using the bread to pick up food we understood but the bread to food ratio was all wrong. Sensing our concern the waiter kindly ofered us  spoon but upon inspecting the locals we discovered that the trick is to pickup some rice with 3 fingers and a thumb and shovel into the mouth with no regard to the mess. James who struggles with a knife and fork took to this immediately and manged to not spill any thing on him or the table. I on the other hand was not so good at this and had food on my face and the table. I eventually opted for the spoon hoping that in time I would master this new skill.