Next stop Delhi, capital of all tall Indian travel stories, not to mention the country. We were very smart - as in posh - in Delhi. We had two equally spoiling dinners, to which our only contribution was our questionable humour. We were not very smart - as in brains - because we stayed in a bad area and got scammed by the oldest scam in the (guide) book.
First the dinners - Mr Peter Harvey of international jet-set and medi-pack fame - shouted us some of the best sushi we've ever had, at a hotel that can only be described as over-the-top and we capped the evening off by allowing his clients to pick up the bar bill. Have we no shame. Apparently not.
This was followed the next night, by dinner at Tim, Anna and Felix Bond's - Felix at just two weeks old was much better behaved than us. We failed to arrive with even one bottle of plonk and the culmination of the night saw us finishing the last of Tim's whisky. So in summary, both times we were the guests from hell, but lucky enough to have heavenly hosts - hallelujah.
It was so good to see friends and in the case of the Bond's eat a home cooked meal, that we spent our hangovers thinking more than ever about our return to the UK and what we've missed while we've been travelling.
We loved the Bond set up in Delhi, there is the swish modern flat, which neccessitates a cook, cleaner and driver - this is expected otherwise you're not playing your part in redistributing your wealth. Their address is brilliantly simple - say this to anyone in Delhi and they can get you there: S501, GK2. Blows those pesky postcode things out the water. Anyway they were a world away from the muddy street scene of our hotel and we were very pleased for it.
Finally the scam. We'd both read about it and still got done, it's that good. We arrived at the station to book our tickets to Jaipur, on the way in a man asked what we're looking for, informing us the tourist booking office is under refurbishment and we should talk to one of the staff upstairs. We walk upstairs (bearing in mind there are thousands of people everywhere and the place is a building site) and the first official we ask confirms the story and tells us where to go and says how much to pay in the Tuk Tuk. We head to the tuk tuk rank, another man asks where we want to go, we tell him and he says he'll take us and names the correct (good) price. We smile and hop in - half way to our destination - we spot the flaw in the scam - you never get a tuk tuk for the real price - ergo we're being scammed. So it proved, its perfect execution is what let it down - nothing works so smoothly in India. Once we got to the travel agent, we just walked away, but totally aghast at the brilliance of the scam and only out of pocket to the tune of two (correctly priced) tuk tuk rides.
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Monday, 19 May 2008
Luck now led us to Agra
Our arrival in Lucknow wasn't lucky, but like all these things is was a gradual decline, and we only realised how badly it had gone when we hit the bottom. It started at Varanasi train station, which appears in constant crisis, with pilgrims asleep, eating, crying and praying on every square inch of the floor, as you'd expect this somewhat impedes station efficiency, not to mention our brains.
Once on the train we had the usual seat shenanigans, after all we'd failed to pay baksheesh for a good seat, so the top bunks for us - think big luggage rack. Our train then ran into a summer dust storm, which enveloped everyone and everything, it was twilight at 2pm and looked more like Africa. At Lucknow the storm had taken the form of 'mini-cyclone', with trees and power-lines down. Enter worst tuk tuk driver in India, who not only didn't know his home town, but got cross with us about it. Thankfully, once located, our homestay was all calm and relaxing, if completely dark. It wasn't till the following day we saw our problems in perspective - the news reported the storm had killed over forty people across the state.
Lucknow's residency, scene of the infamous mutiny/first war of independence siege, was evocative, but not in the way we'd expected. All the British memorials felt out of place, they're the same as the ones in the Churches at home, just in a park in the middle of a modern city in north India. The British government of India has left little or no legacy with the people, except perhaps the schools and universities, the residency is there, but it feels meaningless to most people, including us.
We went for the overnight express to Agra. Our berths were excellent, the only problem was the over-enthusiastic air-conditioning, which meant we had to use blankets. The berths themselves could not have been cleaner or more private.
You all know the reason for going to Agra, but it turns out that as well as the mighty Taj there are three other sites that surpass everything else we'd seen. The only thing that lets Agra down is, well Agra. The government must take oodles of cash out of the place and absolutely zero makes its way down to the town.
The Taj didn't disappoint. We can confirm it's wonderful, whopping and white. In fact it's size and simplicity were the two things that struck us, and the fact that inside it's strangely small and dark. The one odd side effect of seeing it is to wonder if we haven't got anything better than Big Ben or Tower Bridge to set against it as the site of Britain - but I somehow think not - suggestions on a postcard.
The other sites included a mosque in the middle of nowhere that was magnificent and resulted in me staring open mouthed, Mrs B got a little bored; Akbars mausoleum, which for sheer scale was unbeatable and Agra fort, so much better than Delhi's version.
The Agra gripes were: we weren't staying in 'The Oberoi', the hotel next to ours, but a world away in quality. Our friends who'd stayed there will remain nameless, but I will say - even though it was your honeymoon - it sets a very bad wife precedent that can't be matched by all of us.
The other Agra gripe was it cost 750rupees each for us to get into the Taj once, between us we could have paid for 70 Indians to visit, but because of the heat we could only be there either early morning or evening, not both, this was a shame, as we'd definitely have gone back if I wasn't so tight.
Once on the train we had the usual seat shenanigans, after all we'd failed to pay baksheesh for a good seat, so the top bunks for us - think big luggage rack. Our train then ran into a summer dust storm, which enveloped everyone and everything, it was twilight at 2pm and looked more like Africa. At Lucknow the storm had taken the form of 'mini-cyclone', with trees and power-lines down. Enter worst tuk tuk driver in India, who not only didn't know his home town, but got cross with us about it. Thankfully, once located, our homestay was all calm and relaxing, if completely dark. It wasn't till the following day we saw our problems in perspective - the news reported the storm had killed over forty people across the state.
Lucknow's residency, scene of the infamous mutiny/first war of independence siege, was evocative, but not in the way we'd expected. All the British memorials felt out of place, they're the same as the ones in the Churches at home, just in a park in the middle of a modern city in north India. The British government of India has left little or no legacy with the people, except perhaps the schools and universities, the residency is there, but it feels meaningless to most people, including us.
We went for the overnight express to Agra. Our berths were excellent, the only problem was the over-enthusiastic air-conditioning, which meant we had to use blankets. The berths themselves could not have been cleaner or more private.
You all know the reason for going to Agra, but it turns out that as well as the mighty Taj there are three other sites that surpass everything else we'd seen. The only thing that lets Agra down is, well Agra. The government must take oodles of cash out of the place and absolutely zero makes its way down to the town.
The Taj didn't disappoint. We can confirm it's wonderful, whopping and white. In fact it's size and simplicity were the two things that struck us, and the fact that inside it's strangely small and dark. The one odd side effect of seeing it is to wonder if we haven't got anything better than Big Ben or Tower Bridge to set against it as the site of Britain - but I somehow think not - suggestions on a postcard.
The other sites included a mosque in the middle of nowhere that was magnificent and resulted in me staring open mouthed, Mrs B got a little bored; Akbars mausoleum, which for sheer scale was unbeatable and Agra fort, so much better than Delhi's version.
The Agra gripes were: we weren't staying in 'The Oberoi', the hotel next to ours, but a world away in quality. Our friends who'd stayed there will remain nameless, but I will say - even though it was your honeymoon - it sets a very bad wife precedent that can't be matched by all of us.
The other Agra gripe was it cost 750rupees each for us to get into the Taj once, between us we could have paid for 70 Indians to visit, but because of the heat we could only be there either early morning or evening, not both, this was a shame, as we'd definitely have gone back if I wasn't so tight.
Saturday, 17 May 2008
What's different about India? Varanasi.
From Mumbai we cheated again and flew to Varanasi, believe us we saved some travel pain. Varanasi is a place like no other, we'd heard so much about what it was going to be like, but as they say, nothing prepares you for the reality. At best, it has only a passing interest in the modern world, which isn't to say people don't like money, after all that's a long standing love all over the world, but what makes it ageless are the sights, smells, people and rituals, and especially those smells.
Varanasi had a couple of things we'd be happy to never see again - the bloated body of a sadu (holy man) trapped on the anchor ropes of the pontoon bridge, children swimming in a river that can only be described as putrid, and deprivation around you all the time. Mumbai and her slums had energy and there was money, but Varanasi is like an old, bent-backed lady, who has nothing, except her routines and rituals. Ritual is everywhere all the time: ritual prayer, singing, cremation, shaving, washing and play. As our highly informed readership no doubt knows, when a Hindu dies, part of their ashes should be mingled with the waters of the great mother Ganga, if you die in Varanasi you're cremated on the banks and all your ashes make it into the river and you have the added bonus of dying in a place that ensures you're spared the pain of re-birth and get a one way ticket to Nirvana.
The cremations where the simplest and most striking for us. The claim that the fire used to light every pyre has been burning non-stop for three thousand years sounded a little tall, but it's what everyone believes, so who am I to argue.
Varanasi also had plenty of exuberant Indian tourists, we like these guys, almost as much as they like their children practising their English on us. India's middle class has cash and they're currently on holiday, the only tricky question we get is - what's different about India? A question we found surprisingly hard to answer.
Wednesday, 14 May 2008
Rupee, rupee, rupee - sung to 'Ruby, Ruby, Ruby' by the Kaiser Chiefs
Our long weekend in Mumbai was the travelling equivalent of the city break; there was the nice-ish hotel, lots of treats, some classic sites, handbag shopping (ahem), a tour, a flash dinner and the result was we spent more Rupees in three days than we thought it was possible to spend in a week. Superfluous as it is to say, Mrs Brewster loved Mumbai. We were also just lucky, we did everything we wanted to do.
So what, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls were the highlights?
Well we've gone with three:
The first is mine and a little boring, if I hadn't been writing it, it wouldn't have made the list. It was my visit to 3's contact centre. Over the last five years I'd spent so much time talking about 'the Indian contact centres' it seemed daft not to visit. They far exceeded my expectations, with the buildings, scale, facilities and feel all being of the highest standard, in fact all better than our equivalents in the UK. So my thanks to Arun for sorting it out.
The wife's highlight was dinner at a restaurent called Indigo. It was all brillantly over the top and in three hours we dumped 6,000 Rupees, or $US160, with the average daily income in India at around 60rupees, you can imagine what one hundred days of pay can get you; a hefty sense of guilt and a healthy hangover - money well spent then!
The team highlight was our visit to Dharavi, Asia's largest slum. The company we did it through seems to be doing everything for the right reasons - we'll let their website do the talking - Reality Tours.
What we'll just say, is if you find yourself in Mumbai you must do this tour, it's disturbing and inspiring in equal measure.
So what, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls were the highlights?
Well we've gone with three:
The first is mine and a little boring, if I hadn't been writing it, it wouldn't have made the list. It was my visit to 3's contact centre. Over the last five years I'd spent so much time talking about 'the Indian contact centres' it seemed daft not to visit. They far exceeded my expectations, with the buildings, scale, facilities and feel all being of the highest standard, in fact all better than our equivalents in the UK. So my thanks to Arun for sorting it out.
The wife's highlight was dinner at a restaurent called Indigo. It was all brillantly over the top and in three hours we dumped 6,000 Rupees, or $US160, with the average daily income in India at around 60rupees, you can imagine what one hundred days of pay can get you; a hefty sense of guilt and a healthy hangover - money well spent then!
The team highlight was our visit to Dharavi, Asia's largest slum. The company we did it through seems to be doing everything for the right reasons - we'll let their website do the talking - Reality Tours.
What we'll just say, is if you find yourself in Mumbai you must do this tour, it's disturbing and inspiring in equal measure.
Tuesday, 13 May 2008
What's your name? Bijapur
From Hampi we headed north to a town called Bijapur. I'd sold the visit to the better half of team Brewster on the basis it was on the beaten track and in the same direction as Mumbai; obviously I'd also mentioned the buildings and history bit. Unfortunately when we had to sign into the 'sites', the books showed we were the first non-Indians to visit in six weeks and only the second in two months.
Over the next thirty-six hours our status as 'special' visitors to Bijapur was confirmed by nearly everyone asking our names and where we were from, or better still, if they had their camera with them, taking photos of us with their children. We started to feel how you imagine a minor soap star does when they walk through an edge-of-town shopping centre; vaguely harassed and bemused by so much undeserved attention. All of which lead Mrs B. to conclude, Bijapur may have been in the right direction, but it's not a town much visited by anyone except farm-equipment salesmen.
As I may have cheesily said 'I'll let the buildings do the talking'. Bijapur is a great place to look at lumps of sandstone: there's the second largest dome in the world after St Peters; Mausoleums that inspired the architects of the Taj; a watch tower that looked like the tower of Babel and all of them surrounded by some mighty fine chunks of town wall. Sad as it is to say, it will come as no surprise to readers that these glories may have passed mrs b. by, when asked for contributions to the post on Biajpur, she answered 'you must mention the tomato fry'. It turns out the humble tomato fry had surpassed the combined charms of every dusty edifice left over from three hundred years of independent Sultanate rule.
Meanwhile, Laura and Patrick had headed 400km south to a wildlife reserve and we received the following report, which we thought was worth sharing with you:
'Tusker Trails gets the extra big thumbs up. I saw; ellies, eagles, kingfishers, woodpeckers, mongeese, giant tree squirrels, spotted deer, bison, huge sambar deer, langur monkeys, macac monkeys PLUS tigers, a black panther and a leopard. NOT BAD!.... We broke down next to a bull elephant one day (with huge tusks) and another day we broke down not far from a sleeping tiger and had to get out and push the jeep to start it. Mummy was SCARED!'
The final thing to say on Bijapur is the reaction we've had whenever we've mentioned it to other Indians, nearly universally they've said "where?".
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Happy Hampi highlights
As we've travelled north a place we'd only heard good things about was Hampi and more often than not, when you meet people you like, their recommendations are right and so it proved.
Hampi was the capital of the last major Hindu empire four hundred years ago and it's main temples remain important, the result is a village that is a cross between an archaeological park, a pilgrimage site and a small market town. Physically Hampi is other wordily, there are lots and lots of rocks, think Arizona desert, or South African Kops, interspersed with the ruins, all surrounded by fields and spread along several miles of a river valley. We ended up spending four nights on the wrong side of the river, eating well and doing things we all enjoyed.
Our guest house had a pizza oven, which was a nice change from rice & curry, we ate in an open-aired building, with low tables, cushions and mats, watching the sun go down over the rice paddies. There were Monkeys everywhere - big and small - which Patrick loved, although the monkey scaring techniques employed tended just to scare us.
Erica's highlight was the funny time she had sending a parcel - she was forced to send two parcels after getting excited about a quilt in Panaji, as well as a couple of additional treasures. The husband was to quote her, 'RAPT to carry them'. Anyway she went to the Post Office, the man then walked her round to the tailor, who suggested coming back in an hour while they sewed up the parcels in cotton; once she'd collected them it was back to the PO where the man wax sealed them; she then addressed them, filled out about three forms in great detail, handed over a couple of copies of her passport, a wedge of rupees and there we had it, two and half hours later, her treasures were on their two month journey back to England. She found it hilarious.
For Patrick, it was the bouldering, the monkey temple at dawn and pizza after pizza, after Maaza, after pizza. We have to admit to a mild 'Maaza' addiction, despite the mango drink being a 'Coca Cola' product, we cosume too much. On the climbing front Patrick had brought his rock boots and his chalk bag and we hired a good local guide who showed us the best boulders, if you have to be dragged away from your snow-boarding I suppose the next best thing is bouldering.
Ruin/site highlights were the monolithic Ganesh, which had it's own temple built around it; the incredibly carved black basalt pillars in one of the sanctums, which looked like they'd been finished yesterday, not five hundred years ago and our tour of the main temple, which included too many things to mention, although the blessing we got from the temple elephant was popular.
After a great two weeks travelling together, from Hampi Laura and Patrick head south to a national park and an orphanage and we go north to Bijapur and Mumbai. While I'm sad, it's been v. good and we have to remember we've got two weeks in the Alps in July, which doesn't sound too bad.....
Hampi was the capital of the last major Hindu empire four hundred years ago and it's main temples remain important, the result is a village that is a cross between an archaeological park, a pilgrimage site and a small market town. Physically Hampi is other wordily, there are lots and lots of rocks, think Arizona desert, or South African Kops, interspersed with the ruins, all surrounded by fields and spread along several miles of a river valley. We ended up spending four nights on the wrong side of the river, eating well and doing things we all enjoyed.
Our guest house had a pizza oven, which was a nice change from rice & curry, we ate in an open-aired building, with low tables, cushions and mats, watching the sun go down over the rice paddies. There were Monkeys everywhere - big and small - which Patrick loved, although the monkey scaring techniques employed tended just to scare us.
Erica's highlight was the funny time she had sending a parcel - she was forced to send two parcels after getting excited about a quilt in Panaji, as well as a couple of additional treasures. The husband was to quote her, 'RAPT to carry them'. Anyway she went to the Post Office, the man then walked her round to the tailor, who suggested coming back in an hour while they sewed up the parcels in cotton; once she'd collected them it was back to the PO where the man wax sealed them; she then addressed them, filled out about three forms in great detail, handed over a couple of copies of her passport, a wedge of rupees and there we had it, two and half hours later, her treasures were on their two month journey back to England. She found it hilarious.
For Patrick, it was the bouldering, the monkey temple at dawn and pizza after pizza, after Maaza, after pizza. We have to admit to a mild 'Maaza' addiction, despite the mango drink being a 'Coca Cola' product, we cosume too much. On the climbing front Patrick had brought his rock boots and his chalk bag and we hired a good local guide who showed us the best boulders, if you have to be dragged away from your snow-boarding I suppose the next best thing is bouldering.
Ruin/site highlights were the monolithic Ganesh, which had it's own temple built around it; the incredibly carved black basalt pillars in one of the sanctums, which looked like they'd been finished yesterday, not five hundred years ago and our tour of the main temple, which included too many things to mention, although the blessing we got from the temple elephant was popular.
After a great two weeks travelling together, from Hampi Laura and Patrick head south to a national park and an orphanage and we go north to Bijapur and Mumbai. While I'm sad, it's been v. good and we have to remember we've got two weeks in the Alps in July, which doesn't sound too bad.....
Thursday, 1 May 2008
The beaches...
Oops. This post is a touch late, but I'd started, so I'll finish, it's the old, caught up having to much fun again, combined with not wanting to go near a computer.
Our week of 'leisure' on the coast was justified by Laura and Patrick being on holiday, we had to enter into the spirit of things and if you can't beat them and all that....
The beach can be summed up in three bullet points:
Om beach, Gokarna - a headland of tropical beaches, populated by cows, the odd gringo and Indian holidaymakers. Great waves for Patrick and good beach walks. The main downside was the chef at our spot had departed two days previously, leaving what can only be described as a joker in charge. Unfortunately, we didn't become aware of the joker factor until the synchronised loo visits started at 2am on the first night. The joker malaise over the next 36hours was also not helped by humidity that would have laid a Kenyan marathon runner low. Despite all that, we give Gokarna the thumps up for the best beaches in India.
From Gorkana we headed for Panaji, the former Portuguese capital of Goa; remembering you can't please all the people all the time, the highlights were: great food, great wine and Old Goa, none of which are likely to make Patrick's list of trip highlights. Old Goa is best described as a park for churches, imagine a giant had set out to collect Southern European cathedrals and decided to keep them all in one place, with only grass and palm trees for company, that hopefully gives you some idea of Old Goa. If the British 'gave' India the civil service, the Portuguese appear to have focused exclusively on God.
From Panaji we went to Goa's famous flea market at Anjuna. The positive for me was you had to struggle to spend ten pounds on anything, the negative was you had to struggle even harder to find anything worth five, so famous tourist tat market would be a better name. The highlight was our hotel pool, Patrick spent three hours a day in it and that probably sums up the quality of Anjuna's attractions.
Next stop Hampi and the elephant stables (which I think sound pretty cool).
Our week of 'leisure' on the coast was justified by Laura and Patrick being on holiday, we had to enter into the spirit of things and if you can't beat them and all that....
The beach can be summed up in three bullet points:
Om beach, Gokarna - a headland of tropical beaches, populated by cows, the odd gringo and Indian holidaymakers. Great waves for Patrick and good beach walks. The main downside was the chef at our spot had departed two days previously, leaving what can only be described as a joker in charge. Unfortunately, we didn't become aware of the joker factor until the synchronised loo visits started at 2am on the first night. The joker malaise over the next 36hours was also not helped by humidity that would have laid a Kenyan marathon runner low. Despite all that, we give Gokarna the thumps up for the best beaches in India.
From Gorkana we headed for Panaji, the former Portuguese capital of Goa; remembering you can't please all the people all the time, the highlights were: great food, great wine and Old Goa, none of which are likely to make Patrick's list of trip highlights. Old Goa is best described as a park for churches, imagine a giant had set out to collect Southern European cathedrals and decided to keep them all in one place, with only grass and palm trees for company, that hopefully gives you some idea of Old Goa. If the British 'gave' India the civil service, the Portuguese appear to have focused exclusively on God.
From Panaji we went to Goa's famous flea market at Anjuna. The positive for me was you had to struggle to spend ten pounds on anything, the negative was you had to struggle even harder to find anything worth five, so famous tourist tat market would be a better name. The highlight was our hotel pool, Patrick spent three hours a day in it and that probably sums up the quality of Anjuna's attractions.
Next stop Hampi and the elephant stables (which I think sound pretty cool).
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