Mumbai madness

A visit to Mumbai was short, but on the whole, a sweet stop. Renown for being extremely busy and very expensive, it’s no lie, we weren’t especially looking forward to this leg of our journey. Arriving late in the evening, we headed to the taxi rank at the station. Immediately greeted by number outs taxi drivers, they all offered to take us to our hotel. – at silly prices. But we’ve never taken a taxi before in India, and well aware of their expensive nature, we decided to hunt down a rickshaw. This was our first mistake! Unknown to us, rickshaws were banned in the city centre. No matter how many taxi drivers made this point clear to us, we decided to persist in our search for one, thinking that they were trying to ‘trick’ us a gullible tourists. Finally we gave up. Hailed a taxi, swallowed our pride and started the mad dash across town to our hotel.

At the hotel, we checked into our small but comfortable room, switched on the tv and relaxed on our firm mattress – soft beds don’t exist in India – fact.

The following morning, we awoke bright and early and decided to head towards the rich dock area; home of the Taj Mahal Hotel (£250 a night) and the Indian Gate – an impressive monument aimed at welcoming foreign guests traveling the seas. Half way through our taxi journey, our driver turned around to us and claimed that the arranged fare wasn’t enough and in fact it’ll cost an extra 50 rupees. Reluctantly, we paid – our second mistake in Mumbai. This turned out to be a common trick, with most tourists paying the extra through lack of alternative choice. We promised ourselves we wouldn’t fall for it again…of course we would though.

We are constantly aware of the scams and tricks designed to suck as much money as possible from tourists. The truth is, it’s the little things, the small extra charges here and there that are the real problem. This taxi driver and his “50 rupees extra” ploy worked well and it’s a tactic we come across daily. It’s a real shame because it taints the experience of travelling such a beautiful, diverse country. Rant over, let’s get back to the trip…

Arriving at the crowed open space that fronts the Taj Mahal Hotel, we were greeted by touts offering a range of things including cheesy photographs, taxi tours of the area and good karma. I fell for the last option. After cleaverly negotiating my way around the various salesmen, one ‘religious priest’ caught my arm and quickly proceeded to wrap my wrist with a red piece of string and doned my forehead with a splash of red dye. Claiming I was now going to receive good luck/have lots of babies/get good karma etc etc, I now had to pay him. Strange how this priest wanted money! But I was stuck. I had been cleverly given a service that I didnt ask for and as the polite English man, I reluctantly gave him 20 rupees. Malene had a similar story no more than 10 metres from me. Except she had a happier ending. After the exact same story, she instinctively claimed that she was a Christain and didn’t believe in their ‘good karma’ trick. Without further persistence, the ‘preist’ quickly left her and found some less-clued up tourists. Clever girl.

A boat trip out to Elephant Island (an island lacking in Elephants) gave us the perfect view of this great expanse of a city. High rise skyscrapers and posh condos lined the waters edge and we could really see how the rich and famous from across the globe enjoy themselves here.

Landing on the island we walked to the entrance of the famous elephant caves. Unfortunately, there was a price – 250 rupees, the same as any of the other big Indian attractions. Feeling that we already had a good dose of caves not so long ago, we decided to have a walk around the island. Watching the eagles and monkeys we enjoyed a warm walk through the jungle.

Back on the main land, we walked casually through the streets and decided to take a train to the largest slum in Asia and the setting for the acclaimed ‘Slumdog Millionaire’.

The Dharavi slum was certainly massive. From a footbridge that crosses the train tracks, we had a good view of the area. However, the slum didn’t seem as basic as the one near our school in the Punjab. Here we could definitely make out different homes, proper roofing an even the occasional toilet. As we enjoyed fresh papaya, it was certainly an interesting walk. It was lovely to get away from tourists again, but the living conditions really made us appreciate the things we had back home. One thing the locals treasure perhaps more than we do back home are their families. With no nurseries or elderly homes, the whole family lives, works, eats, sleeps and prays together. The glue holding them together is incredibly strong and is the main way they survive in this harsh environment.

We headed back to our hotel and prepared for our next leg – a 30 hour train journey across India to Varanasi. Deep breath, it was going to be a long one!

Walking in the footsteps of the Gods: Hampi

Leaving the beaches of Goa, it didn’t take long to find ‘India’ again. In fact, minutes after starting our local bus trip back to the main town of Madgoan, we were stuck in traffic, in 30 degrees and standing nose to armpit with hundreds of locals. Oh India, how we’ve missed you!

The train to Hospet was calm in comparison with the bus. On the way, we travelled through some incredible scenery. Dudhsagar falls, or the milk waterfall as its sometimes known was definitely the hi-light. The train literally passes under the waterfall and through tunnels carved out of the hillside.

At Hospet, Malene and I walked to the bus stop, much to the surprise and confusion of the local taxi drivers who persisted on trying to take us. It became apparent that the ‘normal’ tourist option in this situation was to take a taxi (probably with AC) from the train station straight to Hampi – home of India’s most incredible lost temples. As we watched the private taxis drive past, we finally stumbled into the bus stop, slightly sweaty, but on the right track as we were pointed to the right bus by numerous workers, locals and children. On the bus, we managed to cram our huge bags in the overhead compartment knowing full well that if either of them fell out mid-journey, it would probably do some real damage to the poor guys sitting underneath. Traveling with locals has its positives and negatives. The good stuff definitely outweighs the bad and that’s why we always look for this option. The conversations are brilliant, it’s obviously considerably cheaper traveling this way and the sense of achievement and relief that we’ve made the right bus/train is tremendous.

The bus journey took less than an hour which was good because what was waiting for us was simply incredible. In fact, words cant really describe how beautiful, but strange this place looked. It felt like we had landed on Mars. Rolling hills covered in dark red sand and gigantic round boulders that almost look handmade covered the plains. It was as if the ancient Gods had dropped their giant marbles thousands of years ago and we are but ants on their playing fields. We traveled in silence with our mouths open as we got closer to our final stop: Hampi Bizaar.

Although tourists were everywhere, the surreal surroundings meant that we didn’t really focus on them so much. The huge Virupaksha temple that overshadows the little town is the first attention grabbing monument. Its decorative carvings and sheer size is amazing. As well as this beautiful temple, the monkeys playing on the buildings and dancing their way across the village gave us a lot of entertainment as we sat in the roof restaurant of our hotel. On this first day, we visited Virupaksha and met a guide who organised bicycle tours of the local sights – we instantly booked a tour with him for the following day. Tired, but excited, we slept well that evening.

Early the next day, we re-entered the Virupaksha temple and met with our guide and the Austrian family that would be joining us on our bicycle tour. Our guide proceeded to give us a detailed lecture on the temple, it’s history, the religion and stories that surrounded it. Deep inside, I was aching to get to the bikes. As a keen mountain biker, I was eager to see what machines they were offering and looked forward to ‘getting back in the saddle’ – however, this time not on a camel!

Rusting, BSO’s (bike shaped objects) equipped with baskets wasn’t what I originally had in mind, but the amusement factor was certainly there. We all hopped on, adjusted our saddles and started up the first (and only) climb out of the town. If the bikes didn’t impress us much, the tour certainly would. Our first stop, at the top of the hill, was at an impressive, column lined square shaped temple that housed the largest remaining statue of Ganesh – the half boy, half elephant God. Unfortunately, hundreds of years ago, we were told that Muslims destroyed parts of many temples in Hampi. These Muslims realised that by destroying just part of the statues (for example, just the hands, trunks, feet etc) then the Hindu’s would be unable to pray to them. It was a sad story, but luckily, reconstructive work had been carried out on a lot of areas which gave us a real insight into what they looked like in the 16th century.

Our bike tour continued for hours and we tirelessly visited some incredibly temples including an underground temple that was partly submerged in water. The beautifully carved walls and pillars really showed off the talent of the Hindu people and we felt like privileged VIP’s walking in the footsteps of Gods from long ago. After separating from the group, we found a beautiful temple close to a river that we used to bath in and cool down. We even spoke to some locals that were packing bananas onto their lorry. Eating bananas and chatting to the guys was a lovely round-off to the afternoon. Later on, we walked alongside the sacred river and found the Mango tree restaurant and enjoyed local food served on banana leaves whilst overlooking the quite river. It was heaven, and a welcome change to the frantic beaches of Goa.

We woke up early the next morning and enjoyed the sun rise over the Virupaksha temple as we ate our breakfast. We began our walk along the river, this time in search of the Vittala temple and the famous stone chariot. After an hours walk, we reached the main stone entrance and proceeded inside, again in total amazement of the size and magnificence of the grandeur of the place. Imagining how royalty lived here so many years ago was wonderful. The parties they must have had enclosed in the private chambers would have been incredible. We could really in visage the flamboyant lifestyles that this ancient civilization had.

From here, we started a long trek through the hills and saw many monuments. The views across the river and over the eerie landscape was breathtaking. The sun was high and despite the heat, it was a beautiful walk though banana plantations and over rocky passes. But the real delight came when we reached the royal enclosure: home of some of the biggest temples and of course, the famous elephant stables. We enjoyed all of these stunning monuments whilst sipping on fresh coconuts. One of the most beautiful of all the temples was the Lotus Mahal, the queen’s residence. Set in beautifully lush gardens and surrounded by green lawns, this place is a true testament to the architects and stone workers of that time.

It was so easy to be totally captured by this place. The first temples were built in 1336 and the community that lived there reached a staggering 500,000 people. It was a thriving metropolis, covered in bazzars, and life and noise. With the smallest of imaginations, anyone can feel the life that was once here. The temples, of which there are thousands, range from tiny, 4 walled boxes to the huge, elaborate homes of past kings and queens and all of them are bathed in history and stories of a great kingdom that once was. The surrounding landscape, like something from a comic book based on Mars, is the perfect setting for this ancient civilization. Getting lost here will remain a hi-light on our journey. After all, it’s not everyday you get to walk in the footsteps of kings, queens and the Gods themselves.

Next up, magnificent Mumbai; home of the biggest slum in Asia and the most populated city of India.

Stepping out of India and into…Goa!

Arriving into Madgoan and you’d be hard pressed to notice anything strange or un-Indian about the place. We got off the train at 5am and apart from a handful of white people (spotting them has become a bit of a game) everything felt normal: the heat was sticky, the rickshaws wanted silly money to take us the main bus station and the locals were already in full flow. We found a local bus that would take us to the main station and upon entering it, immediately felt the Goan party spirit. With colorful lights dotted across the ceiling and music from various speakers we chugged our way through the dark city. Luckily, it was only a couple of minutes ride as the bags resting on our legs had started to deprive our feet of much needed blood. Still, everything felt ‘normal’.

At the bus station (known as the bus ‘stand’) we waited for 20 minutes and enjoyed another cup of chai. After enquiring as to our bus, we were pointed to one that was parked across the courtyard. Brilliant! Before all the locals crammed on and took the best seats, we had first pick and after checking again with the driver, we climbed aboard. One thing we’ve learnt that you can never do enough of in India, is to ask for help, especially when it comes to transportation. Ask as many people as possible if its ‘the right train…’ or ‘the right bus’. The locals are always helpful, but often wrong, hence why collecting as many opinions as possible is the safest way. On the bus, we stowed our bags in the drivers cabin and watched him as he prepared his bus; spiritually. Using incense (3 sticks), the man offered the cleansing aroma to pictures of his various gods that were dotted around the cabin. As smoke slowly danced its way to Malene and I, we found it quietly calming as we watched the sun slowly rise. Again, normal.

With the bus packed full of locals on their way to work and school, we took off on the journey which took about an hour. As we climbed mountains and raced down the other side, palm trees and dense forest engulfed us. The sun was already out and our adrenaline was being fueled by the speed the driver was managing to get out of the old bus. It’s like he was always 10 minutes behind schedule and trying to catch up. The winding roads both up and down the hills didn’t stop him overtaking various other motorists whether the corner was blind or not. Even passing an accident between a lorry and a couple of cars didn’t seem to lessen the haste at which he traveled. Everything was still normal.

We then made our way through the small town of Palolem and closer to the beach, of which we still hadn’t seen yet. The shops crammed shoulder to shoulder along the main street and signs for yoga, beach huts and restaurants seemed to swamp the road side. As it was still only half 6 on the morning, apart from the shop owners cleaning their front steps, there were very few other people around. We stepped off the bus and walked down to the entrance of the beach. On the 200 meter walk to the sand, we started to notice something. Something that seemed strange. There were soo many white people! It was still early in the morning, but local Indians were nowhere to be seen, instead, white tourists and very few clothes between them. As we’re got down to the golden beach and started our slow, labored walk, more tourists could be seen. The beach was covered with bikinis, topless men, short shorts and glowing white skin. A little bit dazed, we managed to find our ‘resort’: The Nest.

With a beautiful beach bar and little wooden huts surrounded by palm trees, we made our way to the bar. We met the slightly strange, yet kind owner, Mohal. As our room (or rather hut) wasn’t ready, we moved our bags into the restaurant where we enjoyed breakfast and a coffee over-looking the beach and the glorious sea. We were still so struck to see so many white people. We had come across a few tourists in the past cities, but we were always the minority. Here, the tables had turned.

Our beach hut was simple, yet beautiful. Equipped with bathroom and shower with hot water, a terrace and hammock that looked straight onto the beach, it was as if we had died and gone to heaven. Unfortunately, that feeling wouldn’t last the duration of our stay in Goa. That day, we lay on the sun loungers, drank cold beer and read our books. With the crashing waves like a soundtrack to our peace, it felt like the essence of chilling. Of course, with such a hyped tourism market, the prices, food, drinks and music all represented what the Western holiday maker wanted – we were quick to learn that this was not what we wanted.

With prices double what we had been paying for the last 4 months, we were struggling to keep to our daily budget of £15 each (including travel expenses). Yes, it was still cheap compared to Western standards, but we had grown accustomed to Indian prices and spending our daily budget on the accommodation alone was eating into more than just our wallets. We’re not cheap people, but we also don’t have lots of money to spend on luxury hotels and fancy food. Here in Goa, we were constantly thinking about whether we could afford that meal or how it would affect the rest of our travels. On the other hand (and without sounding too hypocritical), the food was absolutely delicious. On our small beach, there were plenty of restaurants to choose from, all with first class views of the beach and perfect sunsets – every night. Menus were crammed with continental dishes and fresh fish including lobster, prawns, king fish, octopus and shark. Most of the restaurants laid there tables out on the sand, and with just the candle light and the stars, we would spend hours just gazing out into the open sea.

The little shops in town (one street) were jammed full off colorful memorabilia and over eager owners. Although the colorful spices, sweet smell of incense and beautiful dresses looked wonderful, actually browsing through it all is next to impossible thanks to these shop owners. As a potential customer, you are constantly told “good price for you”, or “you look for free” and trying to leave empty handed is almost seen as criminal. It’s a real shame as the items for sale are truly beautiful, but unless you know exactly what you want, I would recommend giving these shops a wide birth. Hard as it may be, ignoring the shop owners tends to be the best policy for all parties.

After many quick dashes between various cities on the way down, we decided to spend a week here to recharge our batteries. Traveling is great fun and you always learn so much about yourself as well as culture around you. But it is tiring, in fact exhausting and spending a week in the sun came as a welcome break. It was just a shame that we had to leave ‘India’ in order to do so. We loved the nights in the mini open-air cinema and enjoying salmon and scrambled eggs for breakfast, but this place is so far removed from India that it feels like you’re back in Europe. In fact it came to the point where actually seeing local Indians on the beach was quite rare – probably in the same way as they saw tourists in the rest of the country.

Monkey Island provided a nice get-away from all of this. Although just a short walk from the beach, this island, covered by palm trees and monkeys, was a nice place to come to. And with a fresh pineapple, Malene and I could sit and watch the crashing sea and feel a little bit lost once again. Perfect.

The white sands and blue seas of Goa is of course a memorable place. The question is whether its memorable for the right reasons. Of course it was nice to recoup, get some ‘normal’ food and speak English again, but on the other hand, isn’t that cheating? The nice thing about India is that it doesn’t take too much from you, but instead gives back so, so much. This isn’t a conclusion we could make of Goa. So, thank you for your sandy beaches and your cooling sea swims, but we’re looking forward to stepping back into India – crazy, I know!

Our next stop is Hampi and its sacred monuments – will we find India again?

The lost caves of Ajanta

After trying the third hotel on Jalgao’s station road, Malene and I left, unable to negotiate a price that worked for us. Luckily, there were plenty of other options on the same road and our patience paid off as we stumbled into Hotel Plaza. It wasn’t late, but the long traveling hours and hit or miss food left us both tired. The Hotel manager was charming from the off and happy to show us the variety of rooms he had in his slightly unconventional guest house. With a modern feel to it, we followed him down white washed corridors and inspected the even whiter rooms, barely decorated, but clean and at 750rs (£8) a night we booked ourselves in for the next 2 nights.

Hotel prices in India don’t make sense. Price, service and room condition rarely go hand-in-hand and most often, we find that the smaller places are the best option and the best price. The Lonely Planet guide helps to plan long and complicated trips, but when it comes down to hotels, there’s so much choice, that shopping around a little can really pay off. And that’s what happened here. Not only was the room perfect, but also the service and the kindness of the manager. He provided us with maps of the local area, a list of restaurants and more importantly, a detailed guide to getting to the Ajanta caves – home to some of India’s oldest artwork.

The next morning was an early one. After a good nights sleep we woke at 6am and were greeted by an early morning chai. The hotel manager even stopped a passing rickshaw for us and insisted that we didn’t pay the driver more than 20 rupees. The journey to the bus stand was quick and uneventful. However, it was surprising to see how busy this little town was at this relatively early hour. On our walks through various Indian towns and cities, we’ve noticed that there are a lot of people who appear to be doing very little, some asleep, some playing cards but most are chatting with each other in what ever shade they can find. With so little to do, why are they getting up so early?

At the bus stand, we had a short wait before leaving and decided to have another chai – the small glasses of sweet chai are so addictive and great for getting the body started. On the bus, we clambered down the narrow aisle, feeling glad that we didn’t have our large bags with us. Unfortunately, the only remaining empty seats were towards the back, a place we will try to avoid from now on! The bus fired up what sounded like a well used V12 and as the exhaust spat out a cloud of black fog, we pulled out of the station and embarked on the one hour journey to Ajanta.

The beauty with traveling at this time is watching the sun rise. It doesn’t really matter where we are in India, the sun rise and sun sets are usually memorable. The sun is so big, like a giant ball of passion and it is always so majestic to watch. Unfortunately, the ride-comfort didn’t match the beautiful scene that was evolving outside. We were being bounced and tossed around like rag dolls. Our heads were close to smashing the overhead luggage compartment as our bums left the seats. It felt like we were on a ship in gale force winds and we didn’t really know where we were getting off. As it turned out, we got off one stop too soon, which meant we had to start walking, hopefully the right direction.

After a 10 minute walk (uphill) we came across a guest house in the middle of no where and asked for directions. Out of pure sympathy, the guy we were chatting to decided to take us on the back of his bike – both man and machine were Hero’s! At the foot of the mountain, Malene and I waited for the shuttle bus that would take us up. After a brief ascent we reached the ticket office and forked out another 250 rupees – the standard price for all of India’s World Heritage sites. Of course, had we been local Indians, the price would have dropped to just 10 rupees each – we call it ‘milking the tourist’, and it happens everywhere! We started another ascent, this time by foot and as we managed to take the first bus up in the morning, it felt like we had the place to ourselves. At the top, we looked down upon the horse-shoe crescent that was formed in the side of the mountain. With a river running along the bottom and lush, green canopies, the place looked a lot like the way it did in 1819, when John Smith rediscovered them after years of being forgotten. The 30 caves dating between the 2nd Century AD and the 6th Century BC, depict Buddha, his teachings and their way of life. With so many paintings so well preserved it was almost impossible to imagine how anyone could achieve such beauty – such a long time ago. In fact these paintings, or ‘temperas’ as their known, are so detailed and beautiful, that no examples can be found from this era in the entire world.

It was a little creepy and slightly bewildering walking from cave to cave. We couldn’t imagine how they constructed these caves so many years ago or how the crafted the stone so beautifully. In many places there were small holes in the floor where it’s said they mixed their paints using animal and vegetable pigments – we were standing on one of the worlds oldest palettes. We wondered between individual rooms that were used to shelter Buddhists during the wet monsoon season and gazed in amazement at the giant statues of Buddha, most of which were within their own stone chamber at the rear of each cave.

After a very thorough study of each cave and finding John Smiths signature, we decided to climb the hill directly opposite the caves. At the top and after wiping the sweat from our foreheads, the view was clearly worth the climb. The horseshoe shaped valley curved its way around in front of us and as the monkeys played in the trees, hundreds of meters above the valley floor, we again tried to work out how they formed the caves in the side of the mountain. Of course, we could never fully understand the mystery behind Ajanta caves, and that in itself was the beauty of it. A true place of peace and tranquility, the sense of holiness was almost tangible. Much like the paintings were engraved on the walls, Ajanta caves is engraved in our memories and we feel very luckily for that.

Next up…Goa, the sunshine state!