the end of india

9th December 2011

Mammalapuram

                      So here it is. My penultimate day in India which serves to signify the end of this particular chapter in my world wide journey. The past few days I've spent in  Pondicherry and now Mammalapuram, though enjoyable, have been fairly uneventful as I've had the distinct feeling that this leg of my trip is unfortunately drawing to a close. A close which will soon be reopened however once I set foot on the airplane tomorrow night to continue my travels over in South East Asia. Tomorrow morning I head back to Chennai to catch the midnight flight which will whisk me away to Bangkok where round two of this big old adventure begins! So in the meantime and as the name of this blog is "thoughts on the road" I thought I might spend some time committing to the world wide web a couple of thoughts that serve to summarise my feelings about the past two months i've spent in this wonderful country. If however, you've read the rest of my blog you'll know this is no small task as an awful lot has happened but i'll give it a shot!

To begin, I think i'll let you in on a very special conversation I had one night at the Gopi guesthouse in Hampi with a remarkable woman named Andrea. Remarkable for many reasons, but for the purpose of the point i'm trying to make here, she was remarkable because of the stories she told me. One story in particular struck me as profoundly poignant and as this is my space I would like to share it here. The reason being is that I think it perfectly encapsulates many of the feelings i've developed about this - to use the same adjective to excess - remarkable country. Andrea was from Switzerland. At a guess I would say she was in her mid-thirties and with her long flowing brown hair and elegant manner she was both eloquent and beautiful by nature. This was actually her seventh time in India although this time - for the first time - she was making the three month trip accompanied by her five year old son Talin. That night we talked until the last customer had left the resturant and on into the early hours of the morning. We talked about many things that night and her attitude towards life struck me as incredibly inspirational to the extent that in those hours we spent together I feel I somehow learnt a great deal from her. One of the obvious topics of conversation which came up, among many others, was why she kept on coming back to India time and time again and the story she told me in order to explain her reasons - which i'll humbly attempt to replicate here - was to my ears astounding. It summed up for her (and upon later reflection myself also) why India is such a unique country.

Years ago, whilst traveling through the northern state of Himachal Pradesh, she was walking along a street and came across an elderly lady lying face down on the ground who appeared to be in considerable distress. As she approached, it became depressingly obvious that this poor lady was crippled by the late stages of leprosy. The highly destructive disease had reduced the woman to little more than a corpse as her limbs had significantly perished away due to lack of treatment whilst her rib cage was so heavily infested that dead flesh could be seen protruding from the poor woman's withered torso. The instant reaction to such a sight was understandably extreme horror which soon gave way to incredible sadness and reduced Andrea to tears. Upon closer inspection to see if any help could be offered, she noticed that the woman, instead of crying out in pain was in fact singing. Singing with the most beautiful voice Andrea had ever heard which seemed to almost transcend the suffering that had corrupted the woman's body. This immensely powerful image seemed to encapsulate for her all that India is. To use her own words, she thought that this woman represented the 'fine balance' which exists in India as a whole. The country, she continued, is a nation finely balanced between extreme hardship and suffering at one end of the spectrum whilst amazing beauty and positivity occupy the opposing end. The two of which serve to counterbalance each other and every traveler who visits the place undoubtedly encounters this contrast at some point in their trip. To my ears, the point of the story was that within all the disease and death which is prevalent everywhere in India an underlying theme of natural beauty can always be found and this whole concept for Andrea was encased in this poor woman's diseased body. In her opinion no other country in the world (from the many she has visited) shows this contrast so starkly and in such a finely balanced way. This she told me was why she hated India yet loved it at the same time, was why she kept being drawn back so many times and why she wanted to expose her son at such a young age to a country which has so much to offer. Now i've met many other travelers and every single one of them has told me that their are days when they can't stand the place and long to return home. In most cases however they don't and instead move to a different city where something amazing happens that pushes them to prolong their trip by a few weeks or in some cases a few months! People love and hate India, yet I have never heard why people oscillate between these two emotions expressed in such an eloquent and poetic way. Now I appreciate that this is someone else's story but if you've read any of my previous posts I think that much of my trip falls into this idea of India. From my day spent in the Jaipur slums where I saw some awful things that will stay with me forever to the beauty of seeing the sunrise from Hanuman's hilltop temple in Hampi, I completely understand where Andrea was coming from and that's why India, for me at least, is such an incredible place.

Anyways it's all very well for me to sit here philosophizing about the suffering which occurs in India as I don't have the faintest clue of how hard life is for some people here. I have however seen a little during my two months in this strange land and thought it was an interesting concept worth mentioning. I also fear I may well be teetering, or have already fallen, from the precipice of pretentiousness so I'll end India here.

Next?

THAILAND

x

all aboard the chennai mail express!

5th December 2011

Ernakulam - Chennai

                So just spent my first night on an Indian train and thought I would use some photographs to document the trip I made on what is surely India's most famous mode of public transport. After finishing up in Allepey I left the Brighton gang, who are headed for Varkala, and booked a train destined for Chennai on the evening of the 4th. I fly to Bangkok from Chennai so the plan is to get over there and spend my last week in India checking out Pondicherry and Mammalapuram which both sit very close to the capital on Tamil Nadu's east coast. The Indian rail system is complicated to say the least but actually a remarkable amount of efficiency lies behinds its facade of total chaos. Unlike my previous train journey from Goa to Hospet which I booked using the very useful cleartrip, this time I decided to go to the station and book my ticket there. The reason being that cleartrip had said the train I wanted to catch was fully booked however the Brighton lot had suggested a ticket might be obtained on the foreign tourist quota if I actually went to the station. This indeed was the case and I managed to get a ticket for the train due to depart on the evening of the 4th without hindrance. Therefore on the afternoon of the 4th I arrived at Ernakulam Town station with hours to spare but much to observe.....

Indian trains are divided into several different classes ranging from general unreserved, second class sleeper (the most popular option) to several first class carriages all offering increasing levels of comfort and air conditioning. I opted for second class sleeper and the following picks the story up with me waiting for the Chennai Mail express train which was due to depart Ernakulam at 19.15 and arrive in Chennai at 06.55 the next day.

Arriving at Ernakulam Town station.

Cow chilling on the tracks. It seems that nowhere is off limits to these smelly Gods. 

Sleeper carriage. 

As you can see from the blurred image here, the royal rumbles for seats in the unreserved carriages are ruthless.  Thankfully I had booked a ticket for second class sleeper so didn't have to get in the ring with them!

Notice the man with the blue t-shirt from the previous photograph who didn't make it on board in time and had to hold on for dear life as the train pulled out of the station. It took another 100 meters for him to actually get his whole body on board!

A very relaxed station guard looking very unconcerned by the man in the blue shirt hanging out of the departing train's door as it built up speed out of the station!

Ernakulam Town Station Platform 1.

When I had found my carriage I was fortunate enough to meet a generous man who said he would be happy to swap my middle berth for his top berth so that he could talk with his friends below. Each section of the carriage is divided up so that three beds line each wall with another two on the opposite side of the carriage As you can see the middle berth is folded up meaning you only get to sleep when the other people are ready to go to bed and its folded out. My view with long journeys is that they're better spent asleep so it was a very pleasant surprise that this man offered to switch.

Happy chilling on my top berth.

Dozed off in the sweltering heat of the carriage and was very thankful for the military grade fans adorned to the ceiling which kept everyone relatively cool. Around 2am however, was woken up as the cold of night had crept in through the open windows and the fans which earlier on had been essential, now made me even colder. Dressed up in pretty much all of my clothes to get warm, a benefit of carrying your whole wardrobe on your back I guess!

People settling in for the 12 hour journey.

Arrived safely in Chennai!

cruising through "god's own country"

3rd - 4th December 2011.

Allepey Backwaters, Kerala.

           "God's own country", the catchphrase attributed to the state of Kerala is where my journey has taken me so far and along with the Aussie (Bronwin) we arrived shattered in Ernakulam on the morning of the 28th. The overnight sleeper coach actually got in at 4am and so the early morning ferry we hopped on from Ernakulam to Fort Cochin felt like floating through a dream in my semi-conscious state. After  reaching the tip of the peninsula where the town lies, we found the energy to check out a few home stays and settled on the cheapest one about a 10min walk from the center of town. Spent four nights in Fort Cochin, it was longer than I had intended but I got a short bout of illness which luckily only lasted 24hours (think of it as a diet-delhibelly) but never the less prolonged my stay there which in hindsight wasn't necessarily a bad thing... 

        In the two months I've been traveling over here, there has been a recurring series of strange coincidences where I've been bumping into the same people over and over again. Upon reflection though, there is a backpacker trail and most people traveling around the country are usually on it, so the likelihood of repeatedly bumping into people isn't all that remarkable but it's always a surprise. This was actually the second time I had inadvertently bumped into a group of six recently-graduated students from Brighton. I first met the gang catching a bus to Margao from Palolem in Goa and once again whilst at the Gopi guesthouse in Hampi. This time it was just after myself and Bronwin had been to watch some Kathakali - a ritualized form of performance theater which places significance on the expressive movement of the eyes which in my lowly, humble and probably ignorant opinion was bullshit - and we were looking for somewhere to eat. Walking along the high street I heard, like I had at the guesthouse in Hampi, "Alex, Alex!" Looking over I spotted the gang sat eating at a local fish restaurant and so joined them for dinner where we talked about what we had both been upto since our last meeting. Since then I've temporarily tagged along with the Brighton massive (Theo, Polly, Jay, Charlie, Hazel and Holly) and the timing couldn't have been more perfect as I had been looking to befriend a larger crew so that I could afford to do a cruise on a houseboat along the famous Keralan backwaters. The following therefore is some things I jotted down about the great 24 hours we spent on a boat together....

As the jumping off point for the backwater tours was in Allepey, we hopped on the 90minute bus ride down there from Fort Cochin on the 2nd so that we could hire a houseboat out for the next day. To quickly fill you in here, the area known as the backwaters, which stretches between Kollam and Kochi is made up of a multitude of waterways and lakes whose banks are lined with coconut trees, dense green vegetation and paddy fields. There is a roaring trade whereby houseboats can be hired for a day or longer and the time on board is spent lazily cruising up and down the various canals. As the name suggests the boats contain all the necessary amenities to live comfortably and the amount you pay (and you can pay a lot!) determines the level of luxury you enjoy whilst making the journey. Arriving down by the water in a convoy of rick shaws we were all swarmed by a hoarde of cut throat touts each eager to show us their respective boats. A boat by the name of "Flamingo" was shown to us by a young lad named Vinny for Rs11,000 but after reading the slogan on his t-shirt which proudly declared, "You can't afford me" I wasn't optimistic that he was our man. A thought also passed through my head that his t-shirt probably wasn't the most sensible item of clothing to be wearing whilst showing a bunch of extremely budget travelers like ourselves round a houseboat but there you go. After a great deal of faffing about, Hazel suggested I just ask the government approved help desk who had fixed prices for houseboat cruises, whilst she looked after all our bags seeing as the others had gone off on a boat hunt. This turned out to be a very good idea as soon after a man arrived to show us a government boat for Rs10,000. This meant that between the seven of us it would work out at about fifteen quid each. Sound as a pound as they often say in the UK (according to Indian people..). In a bizarre turn of events, myself and Theo were led directly back to the "Flamingo" boat Vinny had just shown us but with a Rs 1,000 deduction which we snapped up as it looked very nice onboard and so it seems Vinny's t-shirt was indeed correct! The price included 22hours on the boat with all meals supplied and a total distance of around 30km would be covered. After boarding ship, which for the purpose of this blog I'll name 'The Royal Feminist', the next task was actually to leave the harbor which proved harder than it sounds. Due to the massive growth in tourism generated by backwater excursions the jetty was heavily populated with many houseboats which were queued up in front of the dock, so that reversing out involved alot of careful steering and a dash of  ramming to get the other houseboats out of the way. The boat was plush to say the least and just behind the bow was a dining/sitting area with a couch and several chairs whilst the edges were also lined with wooden benches meaning there were numerous places to lounge. And lounge we did. We spent the afternoon cruising along the various canals and rivers observing local people going about their daily business on the shore and off, one man had hopped in and was going for an afternoon swim as we glided by armed with our cameras! The steering wheel had been mounted just in front of the communal area and so I spent a few minutes navigating the boat through the dark green waters before we docked for lunch using a coconut tree as a make shift cleat. Just as everyone had settled down for lunch, which was served up by the bucketful, I looked behind Theo sat at the other end of the table and saw a man who looked to be standing on the water next to the boat. He bent down and reappeared brandishing a massive shrimp and asked if we were interested in buying some fish. Declining his proposal, as the table was already full of steaming pots of dahl, rice and vegetables, he bent back down and we watched as he paddled off to the next houseboat in his small rowing boat which had suddenly come into view to continue his express fish delivery service. Setting off once again after we had all eaten to bursting point, the rest of the day was spent gliding down more waterways, reading books and listening to music on the boats hi-fi. It amused me that the Indian mentality of wanting to constantly overtake other vehicles is not just limited to cars as our driver felt compelled to throttle the engine in order to overtake other slower houseboats stupid enough to get in our way. All of which were full of smiling faces each as eager as the next to wave to us manically. After docking for the night the rest of the evening was spent chatting which turned into 'debating' - chaired by our very own Dimbleby in Charlie - as more drinks were consumed. Finally crashed out for the night as the boat gently rocked under the glare of the moon and the buzz of mosquitoes. An early start next day meant we arrived back in Allepey for 9am and there ended our brief but hugely enjoyable houseboat cruise.

Think I'll pop over over to Chennai tomorrow as my time here is fast approaching its end!

x

Backing out from the harbour.

A houseboat similar in size to ours.

Flamingo or The Royal Feminist.

The Backwaters.

Captain Biggles.

Lunchtime!

music on the road

Fort Cochin

1st December 2011

Really really really missing my decks at the moment. Haven't really heard any decent music out here - aside from the novel Indian music, which most of the time sounds very samey to my uneducated western ears - and would love just an hour with my 1210's. (You better be rigging them hard Mikey!) Save for Babu's compilation Cd's (never actually got one seeing as our relationship ended on a sour note due to lack of baksheesh) and some shit "goa-trance" the trip has been severely lacking in decent music. Which is why the gamble to bring my ipod and Sennheiser's along has paid off immeasurably. As I am entering the final ten days in India I thought I would use this platform to compile a short list of tunes/mixes which have served as a soundtrack to lazy days spent on a beach and hours sat observing the world go by from the window of a train or bus. That being said, much of the time I've spent here an ipod hasn't been required as the natural soundtrack which plays everyday from every street corner, is part of what makes this country so interesting. I am however bored and ill in Fort Cochin, Kerala (only slightly ill, think of it as a diet-Delhi belly) so here is a selection from the most-played playlist.....

anthony and the johnsons - fistful of love

talib kweli - get by

dizraeli - take me dancing

louche 49 - futureboogie (podcast)

willy mason - oxygen

bunny wailer - dreamland

the adventures of soul clap - 7L steps into the AM

burial - raver

split prophets - ain't amused

slow hands - beats in space podcast 13-9-2011

x

snapshots: mysore

25th-27th November 2011

As in my previous post covering Ajanta / Palolem, I'm returning to the photo-story style to cover the few days I spent in the city of Mysore, a city made famous by the slaying of a demon buffalo by the Goddess Durga. Arrived in Mysore, via Bangalore, at midday on the 25th. I was once again travelling alone but once again it would not be for long...

Whilst wandering around the Mysore market was greeted by an enthusiastic group of Canadians who introduced themselves by saying, 'HEY, You Irish dude?' After informing them that I was in fact British (dear boy), despite my ginger-ninja characteristics, I found out they were taking part in a two week yoga course and after seeing the market was invited back to a flat they had rented where we cooked the first home made meal I have had in seven weeks.

Munch out, joined by a German by the name of Yann and Ajay the student from Tamil Nadu.

After we had finished eating we went for a walk into town and came across a small festival which had been taking place for the past two days. A large trench had been dug which, as you can see, had been filled with burning logs. We were told that as soon as all the wood had been burnt so that only embers remained, there would be a ceremonial fire walk. At 4.30am. Unfortunately after getting back to my room on the other side of town, I didn't make it to the early morning ritual as my alarm didn't go off...

Just near the temple, next to the firewalk we were invited to have some cakes and got flooded by happy locals eager to have a photo and chat.

Yann surrounded by curious locals. After arriving we were treated to a bowl of biriyani rice and some cakes. The sight of an aryan German, lanky Brit and talkative Canadians drew quite a crowd.

The next day whilst walking into town came across this legend. The photograph speaks for itself.

Meat section of Mysore market.

 When asking for directions in India I've come to realise that you should never point, as most of the time the answer is 'yes' even if they have no idea where you're trying to get to. In trying to find the train station got lost and ended up in this incense stick making factory where the girls let me have a go at rolling my own. Also bought you some lavender oil mum.....although you'll have to wait a while before you can receive it!

Lunchtime.

Mysore palace.

Vivid coloured powders in Mysore's famous Devaraja market.

Rows and rows of fruit stalls lined the narrow canopy covered lanes which ran through the market. 

Met two Australians, Bronwin (who I've now traveled to Kerala with) and Daniel on his own 6 month India mission. Bronwin sampling the fragrance oils on offer.

Meet Jesus Prabhu.  Told us enthusiastically that he was a police informant who also practices kick boxing religiously. A certified Christian who was also certified mental. Constant hand shaking and hugging plagued Bronwin and myself whilst we waited for our sleeper coach headed for Kerala. We thought we were safe when we boarded the bus but that didn't stop him hopping on where a further round of hand shaking and maniacal giggling ensued, before he was finally shooed off by an angry driver.

reflections on a ruined city

Hampi / Vijayanagar

20th-24th November 2011


         The past seven days have, by a country mile, been the best days of the trip so far. To try and pinpoint a reason for such lavish praise, the only explanation I can really give here is that the place - to use a highly cliched but appropriate expression - cast a spell on me which resulted in the postponement of my departure on more than one occasion. Undoubtedly one of the key factors in the adoration I've developed for the ruined city a.k.a Vijayanagar a.k.a Hampi was the guesthouse I stayed at, and the people I met there. Gopi Guesthouse run by the friendly Cyril (the Squirrel) and his legion of helpful and chatty staff, most notably Sonnu (along with his big life plans...best of luck man!) helped make my stay here a very special one indeed. Writing from the Hospet bus stand, waiting for my sleeper coach to sweep me down south to Mysore, I thought I would spend a few moments running through a morning I had recently, which was only one of the many amazing experiences I had whilst here in Hampi. Also to link together the effective narrative of this blog, its appropriate to say that I've now left the Swiss, who have headed for Gokarna. Which is a shame because we got on really well but such is the nature of these short term friendships, which are born upon arrival at a new city, and whose demise comes upon departure.

Awoke at 5.30am on the 22nd, as the night before had been talking with an Israeli girl by the name of Iris, who after hearing about my wish to catch the sunrise from the Hanuman temple wanted to join me in my mission. A battle plan was hatched and so at about 5.40am after fumbling around in the darkness of my hut for some clothes, we hopped on our bicycles, and set off into the darkness. Luckily Iris had a head torch which lit the potholed roads made even more hazardous in the dark. After a 15min ride we caught our first glimpse of the monkey temple perched on the vast boulder hilltop, and for the second time in a week, I made my way up the winding path under the gaze of the ever present monkeys. Reaching the top just after 6am, we found the perfect spot and shared a nice moment watching the sun slowly illuminate the vast boulder landscape before us. Making our way back to the staircase I noticed that one of my shoes, which had to be removed upon arrival at the top of the hill, had gone. Immediately I suspected foul play on the part of our simian friends, and glanced up to see a gang of the cheeky chaps watching me all looking as guilty as the next. One of the holy men from the temple approached after observing my distress and greeted me with a wry chuckle. He said the monkeys stole visitors shoes frequently however did not usually travel far with them. After clambering over a few boulders I finally spied the missing shoe perched precariously on the precipice of a long drop. Edging towards it I quickly grabbed one shoelace and yanked it away from danger. After finding Iris, who had also gone off on a hunt for the shoe, the holy man asked if we would care to share a chai and wait till 8am when we could observe the morning Puja. If the shoe had never gone missing we would of missed the next hour we spent watching this amazing ritual, and so for that I thank those monkeys. Entering the small temple, the set up had changed since my last visit. The om symbol had been removed and in its place sat two men chanting incessantly whilst a man in the corner was crouched down humming the same incantation over and over again. After several minutes everyone was asked to stand and there began a new instrumental chant played out on the various bells and drums which hung from the ceiling. The cacophony of ringing bells, joined by the steadily increasing beat of the drum, gradually built into a crescendo of noise which completely washed over my body. As the hymn grew in power, I became fixated on the small silver shrine which sat in the dark recesses at the back of the temple. Accompanied by the ear piercing bells and bone shaking drum I was lulled into a very reflective and peaceful state, despite the noise which engulfed my senses. When it finally ended Iris and I walked bemused back outside and was welcomed by the suns savage stroke which had grown in power since we entered the temple. An incredibly surreal yet fantastic experience which I won't be forgetting in a hurry..

After reaching the bottom of the hill, we hopped back on our bikes and headed towards the guesthouse. Iris who had been eager to go to Yoga at 8am had missed the lesson, although was in no way unhappy as something much better had come along. So as it was now past 9am, we stopped by a really random little breakfast house in the middle of nowhere and ate omlettes and freshly prepared banana lassi and reflected on the morning we had just shared. The next few days were spent lounging around the city, doing the temple rounds (TEMPLED OUT) and chatting to some really great people at Gopi and I'm very sad to be leaving the place. It's dawned on me however, that I only have two weeks or so left in India and Kerala/Tamil Nadu still awaits!

Onwards!

x

hampi bazaar.

hanuman hill.

sunrise courtesy of hanuman.

         

hanuman's hilltop retreat

Hampi

19th November 2011

After Palolem, and after parting ways with the French who are headed for the Varanasi, I decided to leave paradise and check out some more of Goa. The way of life in Palolem is so easy and comfortable that its no wonder people end up staying weeks even months there. In order to keep the momentum of the trip going, I decided to leave and check out one other beach in Goa before heading to Karnataka. The beach I chose - informed once again by the ever knowledgeable rough guide - was Benaulim. The four days spent there was once again a very lazy affair which I enjoyed but was soon eager to get back on the road. The reason being that shortly after arriving in Benaulim it became apparent that the area was a hive for European retirees, the ever present Russians and families on holiday which made me slightly regret leaving the amazingly sociable and younger Palolem. I soon got bored of the place and on the second day made plans to leave for Hampi after finding a train which left on the 18th.  I booked the train online using cleartrip.com and the reason I mention the site, is that the train system in India is confusing at the best of times, and this website shows the availability of trains and times in a very clear and concise way. For this reason it has become a hugely useful tool for those traveling around this vast country and nearly everyone I've met uses it instead of the official Indian rail website. As the train left Margoa at 7.50am it was necessary to hire a rick shaw to take me to the station as buses did not run that early. Although still very cheap (Rs150) it was annoying as the buses cost next to nothing for short journeys. Overhearing my dilemma two girls standing close by said that they were also intending to take the same train and offered to share the rick shaw to the station. And this is how I met the Swiss. There names are Ronja (hope i spelt that right) and Lucia and since then we've been exploring the ruined city of Hampi (former Hindu capital and in its heyday labelled 'City of Victory') together and the following is an excerpt from my journal detailing a particularly eventful day we've had together in this incredible holy city....

                      Upon arriving in Hampi we had to make a decision about which side of the river to stay on and as there is no bridge, the only way to cross the river is by boat. Unfortunately the last boat makes it trip at 6.30pm which means that picking which side of the river is quite a major decision, as you have to stay on the side you choose till morning when the boats resume their service. After asking other travelers we opted for the far side of the river as the general consensus was that 'Viru' was more peaceful and less of a tourist trap than the guesthouses which frequent the central Hampi bazaar. We are staying in the Gopi guesthouse and after being offered a standard room or small wooden hut to sleep in I obviously chose the latter. The hut is housed by a thatched roof and contains a raised central platform upon which a thin mattress has been laid out. The bed itself is  covered by a large mosquito net however I've just noticed that a large hole has formed in the corner giving the mosquitoes easy access to my sleeping body which must be nice for them after looking at the many bites all over my legs.....just have to hope that the malaria tablets i'm taking are doing their job!

         

                Awoke after a relatively chilly night (the hut is ever so drafty) and joined Lucia and Ronja for breakfast. After hatching a plan to hire scooters we headed out into the countryside to explore the area after hearing about this monkey-god temple (Hanuman's) and a large man made lake which may, or may not, contain crocodiles. We soon found the large  reservoir which was nestled between the gigantic boulders which the area is famous for. After dipping our toes in tentatively for fear of hungry crocs we headed off down a dusty road in search of the much talked about hilltop monkey temple and after several kilometers came across the vast boulder hill. From a distance a small white footpath could be seen zigzagging its way up to the top navigating its way round the vast boulders which the hill is comprised of. We pulled over at its base and began the long and arduous journey to the top. A stiff 15min climb up the path followed, and at one point with no obvious route present, it was necessary to crouch and make several steps under a particularly massive boulder. In addition to the tough climb we had timed our trip under the powerful rays of the midday sun which seemed to make the climb twice as hard. (Gas mark 9 was definitely the order of the day if you're reading this Smiddy Fresh) A whitewashed stone temple, upon which a single red flag fluttered in the wind, greeted us as we trudged up the final few steps. The 360' panoramic views were breathtaking and the gust of winds which were whipped up due to the altitude were hugely welcomed after the sweaty climb. After tentatively approaching the doorway to the small temple a man ushered me and Lucia in where we were lucky enough to witness a Puja being conducted. A Puja, I later read, simply means 'devotion to god' and six men were chanting prayers whilst circling an om symbol which had been drawn out upon the floor using candles, slices of banana and palm leaves. The banana was an offering to the monkey god as the object of the Puja is to achieve Darshan - a glimpse of god.  The shrine with its many candles had turned the small room into an oven  and the cool winds which greeted us as we stepped out at the end were a great relief. We then made our way back down the hill and spent some time watching the gangs of monkeys who treated the hilltop site as a giant climbing frame!

             After taking a really nice ride through the vibrantly green rice fields under a late afternoon sun we finally reached the lake we had found earlier. A local guy introduced himself and told us it was possible to jump off the boulders into the lake. After dismissing the myth that crocodiles resided in its waters we decided to jump in and asked him to show us some safe spots to do so. He showed us this massive 18m drop which required climbing three gigantic boulders stacked on top of each other to reach. (Large but nothing on the Tivat bridge jump Balkan Brigade...) We asked if there were some smaller jumps and finally settled for a 7m plunge into the lake and although nothing on the larger jump still required overcoming some nerves.  Ronja decided to give it a miss, so me and Lucia, after dressing down to our underwear, counted to three and leapt off into the cool refreshing waters. Once we had dried off we hopped back on the scooters and headed back to the guest house. Or tried to. About 3km from town my scooter completely died after running so smoothly the whole day. I was told by some passing locals that luckily we were near a small village which had a mechanic and they helped me to push the bike there. After waiting 20mins for the power to come back to the village, as by this time the sun had set, the mechanic got some light and managed to fix a small problem with the accelerator. Paid the man 60Rs for his work and finally arrived triumphantly back at the guesthouse under cover of darkness.

A happy ending in Hampi,

x

Me, Ronja and Lucia.

The legend mechanic fixing my bike for me

to palolem via the ancient caves of ajanta

9th-18th November 2011

To try something new and to take a break from the format employed in my previous posts, I thought it might be nice to put together a series of photographs documenting this leg of the trip. Next to each photo I'll also try to include a caption to give it more meaning. As I haven't posted here in awhile I'll give a quick summary of where my journey has taken me since the bodies at Mandu. After leaving town, along with Julien and Lilly, we undertook a two day marathon which saw us hopping on and off a variety of different government buses and sleeper coaches. So many in fact that for those two nights recliner seats and bus stop benches took the place of a proper bed. From Mandu we headed for Indore where we caught an overnight sleeper coach to Jalgaon (a jump off point where we spent the morning seeing the Ajanta caves) after which we departed for Aurangabad then a pit stop in Pune before finally climbing onto our final overnight sleeper arriving a little worse for wear in Palolem, Goa on the morning of the 9th. The following photographs therefore cover the caves and some of the things I saw in Palolem. 

AJANTA 

Originally a site where Buddhist monks established their monasteries, the Ajanta caves are a series of caverns which have been chiselled out of the basalt cliffs which line the river Waghora. The site is situated 58km south of Jalgaon in the state of Maharashtra.

The 28 caves contain paintings and sculptures which date back as early as the second century BC.

Parinirvarna (Siddhartha reclining on his deathbed)

 PALOLEM

Met this absolute joker called Jay from Birmingham who had  sacked off the UK and headed to Goa, surfboard in hand, to live for 5 months in Palolem getting to know the locals and learning to surf. Loved the Villa.

Palolem Bus Stand.

Palolem beach with its fleet of wooden outriggers which could be hired to do day trips out of the cove, visiting the surrounding beaches.

Goan Fishermen preparing the nets for a days fishing. At the end of the day  the fish would then be sold to the restaurant shacks which lined the beach. One night after selecting some fish we sat on the beach and watched our dinner get bbq'd after which we ate as the sun faded over the cove.