Entering a world of adrenaline: Pokhara

14th – 28th February

This adventure actually began in Kathmandu and the second we stepped on the bus. Deciding to use a local bus, we managed to find an ex-formula 1 / adrenaline hunter bus driver with what seemed to be no apparent regard to the welfare of the passengers or the limits of the bus itself. As we tore out of the bus station, 2 things became clear – 1) accelerate as fast as possible and (2) brake as hard as possible at the last minute in order to pick up more weary passengers. This is the way it’s done in Nepal. In an attempt at covering the most distance in the shortest amount of time, this is method of driving adopted by all bus, taxi and tuk tuk drivers.

Without searching for it, adrenaline found us. With 100+ meter drops and no barriers lining the roads, one small mistake, one second of lost concentration, a swig of water or bite of a sandwich would have been all it took for us to plummet to the bottom of the mountain in our uncomfortable metal coffin. The roads themselves are also incredibly poor. I honestly thought the pot holes in England were bad enough to write and complain to my local council, but in comparison with Nepal…WOW…what was I worrying about? In England, a hole as round as a football and a couple of inches deep would be enough to put the tracking out on a car, crack a windscreen, even cause serious suspension damage…but out here?? Stretches of road for miles upon miles constantly test the driver as he weaves in and out of craters and looks for the best route through. Even with his skillful driving, we constantly drop into holes that stretch across the entire ‘road’ and the cracks and smashes even have the local passengers looking at each other with uncertain looks.

A bus ride in Nepal is crazy. A truly exhilarating ride, with breath taking views and a way to mix with the lovely local people. On the 7 hour journey from Kathmandu, we stopped half a dozen times for breakfast, lunch, snacks, toilet stops etc, and each time at more and more incredible locations. The closer we got to our final destination, the bigger and clearer the Himalayan mountains become. Like a photo slowly coming into focus, we watched with open mouths at the beauty and grandeur of the snow peaked mountains. Of course, I could have chosen to sit on the roof of the bus (a perfectly viable option) from where I would have received a much clearer and panoramic view of the countryside, but without making excuses, I simply didn’t have the balls.

Into Pokhara. With the sun out and the temperature back up into the mid 20’s, it felt like a perfect English summer. A cool breeze came in from the Phewa lake (largest lake in Nepal) and we checked into a hotel with prime views of it all: lake, mountains hills, city…perfect! The lakeside area we were stayed in is full of life; restaurants, bars, cafes and a spectrum of shops catering for the abundance of tourists. For trekkers, all your needs are accounted for, if you don’t mind imitation North Face merchandise, but its cheap and tends to look good. At night, the whole area changes as the street lights turn on and the music starts. Clubs (expensive drinking option) open, shisha bars entice and the younger travelers come out to play. With so many adrenaline based sports (mention later) available in the area, this is the place to come and wind down, chill and enjoy a host of food dishes from around the world.

On one of our first evenings, we met a French girl who had just finished a 5 day trek in the mountains. She talked to us about her experience and the pure delight and adventure she gained from it. Originally, Malene and I hadn’t planned on doing any trekking due to the price and time it took to really get the best from the mountains. But this girl was on such a high and talked so passionately about it that by the end of our conversation, we changed our minds. The very next morning, we went to the hotel booking office and brought a very expensive, but all exclusive (apart from drinking water) 5 day trekking package. The price of $230 each included all our mountain passes, accommodation for 5 nights our guide and as much food as we could eat. T date, it was the most expensive thing we had brought and we felt a little uncertain as to how good it would be. We had heard a lot of great stories from people trekking in this world famous Annapurna range of the Himalayas, but it was still a nerve racking time and a big decision to make. Question is, would we regret it? I’ll write a separate post with our experience of the mountains and without giving too much away, let me just say – the most beautiful place on this earth, mixed with sun, snow and ice, an incredible guide an overall memories that will be with us forever…but like I said, I don’t want to give anything away!

Mountain biking has been a passion of mine for a while now (15+ years) and I thought living in Sheffield with the Peak District knocking on my door every weekend was the best place for it. As perfect as the Peaks may be, there is something about riding around Nepal and Annapurna region, with the blue lake to one side and the sprawling mountains to another that really takes your breath away. With some good single tracks, crazy climbs to an ear popping height and full on technical descents, Malene and really tested ourselves. We travelled around the entire lake and up to a world peace stupa that lay on top of a small mountain that over looks Pokhara. At this simple, white monument that ancient Buddhist monks built, we enjoyed beans on toast whilst looking down on everything we had just climbed up. The feeling of achievement and solitude we had was truly amazing, but the beans was the real icing on the cake. After lunch we descended, and then descended some more. In fact, the next hour was a pure descent all the way back to our hotel. With a switch-back track, high beams and awesome drops, we raced down to the bottom. For those interested, Malene had a FS Jamis (1000 rupees per day) and I had a full bounce Meta 55 (2000 rupees) which was plush, well serviced and a pure delight to ride. I have to say thank you to the guys at the Pokhara Mountain Bike shop for being so fantastic. They provide the best bikes in town hands down and helped with organising routes for us…legends.

Without trying to cram too much into one week, the next day we hit the skies and flew with eagles. That’ll be for the next post though…thanks!

“What to do in Kathmandu?”

8th – 14th February 2013

Although not the cheapest option, flying direct to Kathmandu from New Delhi is certainly the quickest and easiest method. An overland crossing is lined with problems (so I’ve read) and with a flight ticket costing £75 and taking just over an hour, it was a no-brainer for us.

The first problem (hopefully this post won’t be a list of problems!) occurred in New Delhi airport, more specifically, in the duty free area. We knew we had to find a cash machine and get some dollars ready for getting a visa in Nepal, but couldn’t spot one anywhere. What was also a little strange, was that there were no currency exchange kiosks anywhere either. After enquiring as to their whereabouts, we were told that neither a cash machine nor currency exchange office existed in the airport. This created a problem. We had to find $80 from somewhere in order to pay for our visa when we land in Nepal. We had no idea how big the airport would be when we landed and didn’t want to find out what happened if we couldn’t cough up the cash. New Delhi airport – sort it out, invest in a couple of ATM’s.

Luckily, Kathmandu (in fact Nepal in general) is far more switched on. With a cash machine and a currency exchange office next to each other, they know exactly what tourists need. The fact that you can’t buy a tourist visa using Nepalese Rupees is a little baffling. I know the dollar is obviously stronger than the rupee, but still. Most of the places we visited, hotels, adventure sports offices, even some restaurants all offered services in dollars. Being a Brit and a Dane, these figures meant little to us and it normally came as a shock when we asked for the price in rupees.

Out of the airport doors, the sun was high in the sky and with a cool breeze we soaked up our first Himalayan view. The snow capped peaks that stretch panoramically across the horizon are breath taking: we already loved Nepal! Our hotel had provided a free pick-up service, which is a great way to save money and more importantly, confusion when landing in a strange city. As we crawled through the busy streets, tourists were everywhere, all peering into shops and trying not to be hustled too much as they browsed through a variety of souvenirs. The shops themselves were so enticing. Beautiful wooden carvings, richly coloured textiles, musical instruments and trekking equipment are just a few to mention. But what seemed apparent, was the lack of plastic, tacky items, that we came across frequently in India. For once, I was really looking forward to a shopping spree, much to Malene’s delight.

Our hotel was basic, but the rooms were large, there was hot water, the internet worked and the manager was helpful. With the added bonus of an airport pick-up (and drop-off) included in the price – 700 rupees (£5 per night) seemed like a good deal for a city that was crammed with hotels and tourists queuing to fill them. I must stress, to get a good price, you need to haggle and haggle hard. Be prepared to walk out and find somewhere else. Quite often, when you walk out, they will normally ask you back – that’s when you know you’ve won the battle!

We stayed in the Thamel area: the most touristy area, but good for a short stop. About half an hour walk to Dubar square and other temples, Thamel offers live entertainment in the evenings, great shopping and a host of restaurants offering food from around the world. Unfortunately, it was this international cuisine that was an early downfall for us. Our second evening in Kathmandu hit us hard. We decided to eat continental style and ordered a couple of cheese burgers at a beautiful restaurant lit by candle light and soaking in the atmosphere of quiet, chilled out music. The burgers, were delicious. The price, reasonable. The effect 4 hours later however was not so pleasurable. 24 hours later, most of which were spent either asleep or on the toilet, we felt a lot better. We had survived our first bout of food poisoning.

However, I don’t want to finish off our Kathmandu experience write-up with a negative feeling. There were so many great things about this city, mostly in the way it felt when walking around. It is far more relaxing than anywhere we had been to in India. The Nepalese people are absolutely delightful, very helpful and have very pure and kind hearts. We spent an afternoon at Dubar square which was very entertaining. Although advised by another tourist not to go, this was one of my hi-lights of our stay in Kathmandu. With huge temples and beautiful views across the city, this is a great place to relax and watch the world pass for a little while. And that’s exactly what we did. Sat high up on one of the temple steps and eating some fresh momo’s, we watched locals and tourists mix beneath us. Tourists, like ourselves, are fascinating to watch and we both recommend it.

As for a place to fly to, Kathmandu proved to be a lovely first stop. A place to find our bearings and learn what was on offer for the rest of the country. We used this place to plan out our next month, but I don’t think we would have believed at that point, just how good this month would turn out to be. This post is short, and probably incredibly boring for most, but I’m itching to write up what happened in our second stop: Pokhara, the adrenaline playground of Nepal, possibly the world!

Final chapter: Varanasi

3rd – 7th February

It turns out that 30 hours spent on a train is not as bad as it sounds. Luckily we picked the sleeper class which meant we sat with some interesting locals. Apart from writing this blog, reading and drinking cup after cup of chai, we both spent most of the journey lying in our bunks, in and out of sleep. On the train, we met a guy who was also stopping at Varanasi. In fact he helped us pick our ‘on-board meal’ and although spicy (sorry Malene), it was bearable. At Varanasi station, everything seemed quite normal. It was busy, hot and there was a spattering of tourists, most of which were either lost or being ripped off by local taxi drivers. We hoped we wouldn’t fall for their mistakes. Following our new friend through the station, we darted up and over stairs, over beggars legs and out of the exit before most of the touts even saw us. Outside the station, we headed for the government rickshaw parking area. Here, we were guaranteed we wouldn’t pay extra just because we were tourists, and whilst that felt promising, it still cost us more than we originally thought.

Heading out into the busy streets we quickly got a good idea of the city. Sat in our rickshaw, we could see just how dirty this place was. In fact, I couldn’t see anything that looked clean, and I challenge anyone visiting Varanasi to try and prove me wrong. The first thing we saw were the cows, but what was more noticeable was what they left behind. Literally cow shit everywhere! When it came to walking through the incredibly narrow streets, it was like a mine-field: some pats old, but most were fresh.

At our hotel, we checked in and then climbed 5 stories until we reached the rooftop restaurant. It was a beautiful day and the view was amazing. We could see the Ganges river to one side and sprawling city on the other. Our hotel offered free boat trips both in the evening and in the mornings and without hesitation we quickly booked one for that evening. Finding these boat trips for free was definitely a bonus. In fact, it was probably the first ‘free’ activity we had come across in India.

Our walk to the ghat where our boat was docked was our first experience of walking through the tiny, clustered streets. We were staying in the old part of the city, which was very different to the area where the station was. The streets here were barely wide enough for people to pass each other, so when a motorbike came past, we really had to be on our toes. Even more of a challenge came when passing cow or buffalo, as Malene found when one almost impaled her with its giant horn. At the water’s edge, we scrambled over moored boats and eventually sat down, eager to set off and see the city. Shortly after rowing out we came to the Manikarnika Ghat – the main burning Ghat. Here it was forbidden to take photos in order to respect the grieving families who were cremating loved ones. This was the most auspicious place in the whole world for Hindus to be cremated as it offers them Moksha: liberation from the cycle of birth and death. Dead bodies are carried through the old city on beds made from bamboo and wrapped in colourful cloth. It is a continuos train of people and as they chant to their Gods, it all becomes very surreal. The bodies are then doused with holy water from the Ganges before the burning begins. The fire used for this ceremony is kept alight 24 hours a day and the wood used is carefully stacked in the surrounding area. Each body requires a different amount of wood in order to fully burn the body (depending on the size of the person) and it is a very precise science. Depending on the wealth of the family, different varieties of wood are available, with sandlewood as the most expensive.

Our boat ride continued down river where we could really see the importance of the water. It was the centre of the people’s day to day lives. From bathing to washing cloths to brushing teeth, the importance of the river quickly became apparent. That evening, we spent time watching the burning ghat from an overlooking balcony and really felt the spiritual aura and atmosphere that it all created.

The next morning, we did it all again. Taking our boat this time with the sun rising behind us. It was as if the city hadn’t slept and even at 7am it was still extremely lively. This time there were more boats on the river. Boats ‘manned’ by young boys came up alongside us and like little floating shops, offering us drinks, crisps and little flower lanterns that we could use as an offering to the river. Back on terra firma, it was amazing to simply walk along the river. Groups of children playing cricket and badminton on the waters edge were great fun to stop and watch, especially when the had to wade into the water for their lost ball. Cows of course wandered everywhere and watching tourists skip between cow excrement was just as funny. I think on average, I managed to step in cow crap around 2 to 3 times a day – much to Malene’s amusement!

On our first evening out, we were treated to live traditional Indian music. With one guy on a giant sitar and his friend on a tabla (twin drums) we lost ourselves in hauntingly beautiful music. Of course, a large slice of chocolate cake really helped! This was at a place called the German Bakery (no links with Germany!) and we found ourselves here throughout our stay in Varanasi. Nice little restaurants aside, the street food here is also excellent. We especially liked the potato and bean patties, freshly cooked in front of you and was another great way to sit and stare at wondering tourists and locals alike.

With the streets full of colour and music, it was easy to get lost in the labyrinth of the old city. We loved Varanasi for so many reasons, but most of all because it felt like ‘India’ for us. Evenings were spent watching the ganga aarti – a river worshiping ceremony and surrounding ourselves in the liveliness of the place made us feel warm and spiritual – a lot coming from me; someone who has very few religious beliefs.

We spent one day at a local, charity-run school that offered help for both children and their parents. Again with ties to the German Bakery, we brought clothes made by the women from this organisation. At the school, we met the founder and 2 volunteers who were there for a couple of weeks teaching the young children. It was a very humble place and in someway, totally reminded us of our time at school in the Punjab. It was strange because although I miss the children tremendously, I hadn’t missed the teaching so much…until now. Watching the children go through their ABC’s and learning to count reminded us of all the memories and frustrations, and love we felt when we ‘taught’. I think we both decided at that moment, that our teaching days were not over.

Varanasi is a place to get lost, literally and spiritually. You need to look past the dirt and grime, but at the same time, embrace it. Spending longer here than our normal couple of days was a great decision as it gave us a freedom of wondering, watching the pilgrims and laughing at fellow tourists. Although we weren’t brave enough to swim in the Ganges (for fear of disturbing a dead body or swallowing the polluted water), we did dip our feet in, even if it was to wash off something we had earlier stepped in.

Varanasi, quickly jumped to my number 1 stop in India. It was everything I had expected and more. The culture and vibrance was right there in front of us and we didn’t need to search it out. As our last stop in this great, diverse country, we couldn’t have asked for more. There is so much to see here, without needing to go into temples or shrines or other popular tourist spots. After our visit in Goa, we finally fell back in love with India. Just remember, try and keep one eye on where you step.

Apart from a quick stop in Delhi, Varanasi would be our final chapter of India. I think we felt all emotions possible during our trip here and although a little tiring at times, it’s certainly an experience that will change us forever. I hope you’ve enjoyed following us, but don’t stop yet! It’s about to get really interesting. Our adrenaline glands are about to take a battering as we travel up into Nepal, where we will get truly wild, high, wet, and sunburnt…again. We will search for rhinos, swim with elephants, jump from waterfalls and fly with eagles. I just hope I have the energy at the end of the day to write about it all.

But seriously…Varanasi…WOW!

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!

Pilgrimage and ginger donkeys

12th – 14th January

It would be nice to think that after 5 or 6 train journeys, we would have the system down to a fine art. Truth is, every time we step into a train station, we feel lost and bewildered. Trains in India appear to run on their own timetable, which rarely corresponds to that of the stations. Getting the right platform is almost purely guess work, but, as we’re rapidly learning, that’s ‘just the way it is’ – a common phrase we use out here! However, with all these struggles, comes a great sense of achievement and relief when you realise you’ve made the right choice. We have been traveling everywhere using the sleeper class – the cheapest option above general admission. In these carriages, there are different compartments, split into 3 tiers (each one acts as a single bed at night) with a further 2 ‘beds’ on the opposite side of the corridor (see photo for a clearer picture). With no A/C, these carriages can get a little warm, but its the people we meet and the changing countryside that keep us occupied on these long journeys. For example, leaving the Punjab (north) and its green fields of rice and wheat and a bitter 6 degrees, Malene and I slept and woke up in Rajasthan with it’s rocky, harsh landscape full of cacti, camels and 20 degrees. We would never experience these fascinating changes or meet India’s fine people or drink fresh chai on a 2 hour flight, so for those reasons, we choose the train, the world’s 3rd largest rail system with 20 million people using it every day, plus 2 confused yet excited travelers.

Entering Vadodara (known as Baroda to the locals), we knew or journey was far from over. It was 5am and a little dazed and confused from a bumpy night, we stumbled out of the station and searched for the bus stop. We knew there were 2 stations – local and district, we just had to find the right one for our bus to Halol, 2 hours away. Of course the first bus stop we found was wrong – too easy we thought. Luckily the rickshaws, were already buzzing around and not unlike vultures, they smelt our fresh, inexperienced, tourist blood and honed in on us. Finally at the right bus stop we found someone who pointed us in the right direction for our bus and by 7am we were on our way, not entirely sure if it was the right direction, but going somewhere, not an uncommon feeling in India.

As the sun rose, it lit the sole mountain in the region in a glorious bath of golden light. We knew we were getting closer to our destination – Champaner and Pavagadh. With the addition of the beautiful sun, we could also see that with this new state: Gujarat, the countryside had changed. It was green once again, similar to the northern state of Punjab where we started this adventure. We reached the final stop of Halol where we took a rickshaw to the base of the mountain. It was the first proper mountain we had seen since being here and were excited as it grew taller and taller the closer we got. After a 15 minute ride, we reached the bottom of the mountain and knew we needed to go up to find our hotel – Hotel Champaner, the only hotel in the area. But the rickshaw driver wouldn’t go any further, instead we had to clamber inside the back of a truck, and with no less than 18 of us inside (plus our 2 giant packs) we begun the ascent. Winding our way up the mountain, we were engulfed by forest and strange sounds. All the way up, signs depicting various neighboring animals gave us more information as to what we we listening to – donkeys, eagles, monkeys, strange coloured birds and cobra snakes, although we probably wouldn’t hear them until it was too late!

Half way up, the truck stopped and luckily the hotel was now well within walking distance. As we stumbled into the reception, a rather none charismatic guy, with a big collared shirt and matching gold jewelry, explained that our room wasn’t ready, but have some breakfast instead. Enjoying our morning coffee and desperate for some sleep we admired the spectacular view of the mountain.

Camel Jockies.

7th – 11th January

A mere 6 hours by train from Jodhpur and we arrived at the sandy, red stone town of Jaisalmer, a large city in the far west of Rajasthan. We arrived at 11am and the sun was already searing hot. As soon as we stepped off the train, we were immediately greeted by a rickshaw driver, not unusual. He also claimed to know where our guest house was: equally unusual. After asking him how much to take us there (standard Indian practice) he replied “20 rupees” (20p) which rang a few alarm bells. Although I wasn’t sure how far it was to our guest house, this seemed a little too cheap, or a little too good to be true. But things were about to get better. Upon exiting the beautiful little station, there were 9 or 10 guys waving banners on the opposite curb, each with a different hotel name. The whole situation was a cross between an international airport with private taxi drivers signaling their clients and a protest on a busy street. Sure enough, our hotel representative was there and after collecting my bag back from the rather deflated rickshaw driver, Malene and I headed to his truck; a stripped out, doorless jeep, the best way of getting around the desert!

We arrived at hotel Ganesh, quickly deposited our bags in our room and sprang to roof to enjoy the afternoon sun. After a couple of weeks of the Punjab winter, we didn’t want to miss a second of this sun, which was by now well into the 20’s. After meeting the cook and owner, we were then introduced to the itinerary of our camel safari – our 3 days / 2 nights camel safari. This had always been a life-long dream of mine, ever since reading Tintin books as a child and wondering what it must be like to loose myself in the desert. The next morning, this dream would come true.

Starting early the next morning, Malene and I were joined by another girl (who was traveling alone!) and then headed into the centre of the city to pick up a further 6 girls. We then headed straight out into the open desert. With mini sand dunes, cacti and eagles above, we raced down the only strip of tarmac for miles around. After a half hour dash, we reached an opening and behind the cacti lay 9 majestic, yet rather cumbersome camels. Excitement levels rose as everyone’s cameras came out. We had one problem, our camera battery had to last the whole 3 days, as we were pretty sure there wouldn’t be a plug out here! Still, after a couple of photos, we hopped on our eager beasts, seconds before they started their awkward ascent, first back legs then front legs, as we tried desperately to hold on. With bags and passengers all loaded up, we headed out into the unknown. The first day and night, we would all be together, the 9 of us, then the remaining 2 days, Malene and I would be alone…with a guide of course.

After visiting local villages, and stopping to give water to our camels, we eventually found a large sand dune area which would be our base for the evening and night. After collecting wood and making a fire, we all sat around trying to stretch out our aching legs. One days riding had taking its toll on muscles I didn’t know even existed, I wasn’t sure if my legs would feel good again, the only thing that was certain, was we had a further 2 days of this! Our first night was magical. We watched the sun set over dunes and then ate around the camp fire. With our beds made on the sand, we gazed at the stars. There were plenty of shooting stars, but I felt this dream had already come true.

Early the next morning, we had breakfast; toast, jam, and hard boiled eggs, and then repacked all the bedding and our bags ready for the second day. With the 7 girls returning home this morning, it left Malene, myself and our guide to head back into the unknown. Before long, the sun was out and keeping us comfortably warm. Of course, sun cream and silly hats were keeping us safe from too much sun and at midday, we stopped for lunch and a siesta. The combination of the heat and the strange motion of camel riding made us really tired and the midday sleep was always a welcome one. Plus by this time, the scorching sun was too much, regardless of our silly hats.

Riding a camel is a slow, uncomfortable, belly shaking experience. But it also makes you feel like a nomad, searching for food and water, evaluating the land and dangers around you. You also sit far higher up than on a horse which is good if you don’t want to step on snakes, but we needed to remain aware of the cactus bushes which the camels loved to rub against.

Our second night was equally as peaceful as the first. In fact, we believed we would never find this peace, this quietness again in India. In a country that is so loud and busy at all hours of the day, this solitude was a welcome find on our travels. It was really wonderful sleeping under the stars again, with the cool air trickling over our faces and pillows made from sand under our heads, we quickly fell asleep in each others arms.

The third day would have been a good time to stop. Our legs were like useless lumps of jelly, barely able stretch over our camels and our stomachs were being shaken so much that internal organs were beginning to be dislodged. Still, stubborn as we are, we decided to opt for another long day in the saddle, this time stopping for lunch in an opening with some grazing sheep and goats. Of course, this meant fresh milk for our chai, much better than the powdered stuff!

We will never forget our camel safari, as I’m sure our legs won’t either. We’ve both been horse riding before, but the combination of no stirrups and a bone shaking ride, really leaves its toll. As you can imagine, the hot shower and soft bed back at the hotel were a very welcome sight. We just hope that we’re not walking like John Wayne for too long.

Our next destination: south, to the state of Gujarat and Champaner, the ancient walled city at the base of Pavagadh, our first real Indian trekking experience.

Catching up…

“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.”
― Mother Teresa

However, for those that are interested in ‘yesterday’s catch up’, I have put 4 posts up of our travels so far. It’s just a beginning, but boy, what a start! Make sure you keep up as things are getting hot!

My apologies for the lateness of these, but the internet has been hit and miss recently. My hands are tied sometimes…