Leaving India

Well, after over 150 days in India, we left the same way we came in, with a crooked taxi driver. It seems fitting that it ended this way and we were so used to it that it didn’t even phase us in the least.

We got our taxi from the Bandra area of Mumbai, where we were staying with our friend Hana. Hana’s housekeeper went out and got the taxi herself, telling the driver that we were going to the INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT. He quoted her a price of Rs. 250 which is a rip off, but we didn’t really care, we just wanted to get on the plane and get home. Once we got outside with our bags and the driver saw us, we knew we were in for a long trip. Hana’s housekeeper made sure to repeat that we were going to the INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT and that we shouldn’t pay him more than Rs. 250.

The beginning of the drive was decent enough until we reached the turn off for the DOMESTIC AIRPORT where the driver asked (in broken Hindglish of course) if we were going to the domestic airport or the international airport. We told him again that we were going to the INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT and he mumbled something about the price which I didn’t hear. As we approached the turn to the international airport he again asked if we were going to the international airport. We said, “YES! Challo! Now!” he smiled and made the turn. If you’ve been reading out blog, you know what comes next…He said that he thought the housekeeper said domestic airport and that the trip to the international airport was now going to cost us more. We called his bullshit and said, “No, take us to the International airport NOW. You get no more money.” As we began driving toward the terminals, he suddenly made a right turn and went down another road. We yelled at him to stop and got out of the car and told him, “You get no money now!” As we began walking toward the terminals, the driver backed up against traffic and began following us. He demanded that we get back in the taxi and that we pay him.

Astrid noticed a car full of police driving by and waved them over. I saw them too and did the same. I explained that the driver was playing a game with us and was trying to get more money out of us. The police officer got out of the car and beckoned the driver over. What happened next shocked us, in Hindi, the police officer began yelling at the driver, all I could understand was the word “tourist” and the word “rupees.” The driver taking everything in stride went to lean on the police vehicle and immediately had his arm slapped by the policeman. The policeman began yelling even more loudly and then slapped the driver across the face twice before dragging him by his ear to the taxi so the driver could read the meter to him. The officer then dragged the driver back by the ear and told us that “You pay this man nothing, not one single paisa.” We thought okay great, let us go so we can walk to the terminal. Then the officer told us to get back in the taxi so the driver could take us to the terminal…”WHAT? get back in the taxi…with the man you just beat in front of us?” I said, “Get in this taxi?” and the officer said, “Yes, we will follow you.”

So we piled back into the taxi, the driver wouldn’t even look at us and we got a police escort to the terminal with an officer riding in the front of the taxi. As we left, I offered to pay what we agreed to to get there. The officer just looked at me and shook his head. We got out of there as fast as we could and into the airport. I have no idea what happened to the guy after we left. It’s better to leave it to the imagination.

Feeling some sense of relief that that part of the ordeal was over, we settled in to wait for our plane which ended up being a hour and a half late. We knew as we boarded that we were probably going to miss our connecting fight in Heathrow to JFK. Well, we did and since the flight left from Mumbai, Virgin Atlantic doesn’t take responsibility for late departures. They also don’t put people up for the night in a local hotel nor do they give food vouchers. Our only option was to spend 69£ or $140 USD for a room for the night. We also lost out on a prepaid hotel room in JFK. Well we decided to sleep in the terminal instead and it was cold- really cold, but we found a space heater and huddled around it and got at least a few hours of sleep before the flight out at 9:30 am.

At least we got out of Heathrow in time and we made it back to the US at 12:30 pm. Only a day late…not bad. I called the hotel and they honored our reservation for that day. Now to get used to the Western world again…we’ll let you know how it goes.

Cheers!

Anthony and Astrid

Kodaikanal

There isn’t a lot to say about Kodaikanal or “Kodai” as it is known by most people here, except that it is a world away from the stifling heat of the plains. In fact, the high temperatures here are only in the 20s° Celsius. It gets cold at night- very cold for southern India- around 9-10° Celsius.  And it has rained a little every day that we have been here save one.

There are hills everywhere in the town and you get an amazing workout as you walk around- which is the easiest way to explore. Astrid and I took a “walk” yesterday to Silver Falls, about 7km out of town. Our hotel concierge told us that it was an easy walk to take a shortcut through the town. And it was..until we reached the end of the path and realized we had to climb down the side of the mountain on a single track dirt path to get to the falls- in sandals. We finally made it…and the falls weren’t that nice, garbage everywhere, interstate tourists clamoring for a photo, clothes hanging from the branches of nearby trees as if they were swept down the river that feeds the falls. So we stayed for a little bit, ate a pomegranate and walked back- this time by the main road…uphill…very uphill. We figured that we walked about 14 km yesterday- around 9 miles.

That isn’t the only place to walk in Kodai though. A huge attraction is the man-made lake just below town. We have walked it everyday since we got here and it is beautiful- watching the mists roll in over the hills while families paddle around the lake in pedal boats, red and blue kingfishers search for food and purple and yellow Lotus’ float in the water. The lake circuit is 5km and it has been great to be able to get some exercise while we’ve been here- something that you can’t do in most places in India.

I’d definitely recommend coming here, but only for a few days, it can get tedious after that with frequent blackouts and restaurants that close at strange times. Check out Cloud Street Cafe, the best coffee in town, Pastry Corner for a mean brownie, and the Royal Tibet Restaurant which serves up good Chowmein and Momos. Hotel Hilltop Towers has been our address here for a week and the people are really nice and have been good to us. The rooms are clean and it is close to everything.

We leave tomorrow morning to Coimbatore to fly to Mumbai tomorrow afternoon where we’ll meet our friend Hana and check out the most expensive city in India.

Cheers until then!

What We Won’t Miss About India…

So, the post from yesterday is the highly romanticized version of the most memorable experiences of our trip. Just to be totally unbiased, here are the things that we won’t miss.

Let’s start with mosquitoes, not your average mosquitoes, but ginormous ones that carry blood-born pathogens like Dengue Fever, Chikunyunga, Malaria…We personally find mosquitoes to be the most pointless insect in the world. Tell us some reason why they must exist!

We definitely will not miss the pollution, smoke, lack of sanitation, lack of infrastructure, pot-holed roads, garbage all over the place and standing ponds of sewage and urine.

We won’t miss the Indian man’s fascination with the vehicle horn. From strange French-style horns on autorickshaws with a squeeze bulb at one end that sound like a rabid band of clowns rolling down the street to high-powered, high-decibel, ear-shattering air horns that seem to be on every vehicle- including motorbikes. I understand using a horn to warn traffic that you are coming around a blind corner, or that you are overtaking another car, and even as a thank you for letting you pass, but often, there is no discernible reason people use horns in India, it seems as though it is merely to prove they exist. We both swear that we have lost at least a little of our hearing here in India.

We won’t miss the starving, abused and generally neglected street dogs that roam around almost every city and village in India. Will someone please feed and home them or put them out of their misery? If you are looking for a good NGO to give your money to, let it be one of the animal welfare organizations here in India.

We can’t wait to leave behind rickshaw and taxi drivers who are desperate enough for work that you will get asked 17 times in the space of ten minutes whether you want a taxi or not. They don’t take no for an answer, as they rattle off all of the destinations, observation points, temples, etc. that they can take you as if it is some deranged compulsion for them to finish their sentences.

We won’t miss hawkers, especially those on the beaches with their god-forsaken drums, maps, stickers and magnets that hassle you every day even though you have told them, “No!” 493 times…that day. Who buys maps and stickers while they are on the beach anyway? We also will not miss the ever popular hawker patter, “Yes, have a look my shop?”

Last but not least, we won’t miss the hippie tourists that invade India- with their skanky dreadlocks, dirty clothes, smelly body odor, and their vacant stares into space. India is a spiritual country only if you engage in something- not just sit around and bang on your newly purchased drum from the beach hawker.

Cheers!

What We’ll Miss Most About India…

With less than a week left on our trip we find ourselves both happy to be returning home and sad to be leaving. India is such a big country and we have seen and experienced so much of it. I assume that a lot of things will continue to hit me as we reintegrate into the world. There are so many things to miss about India that we don’t quite know where to begin…

We will miss freshly cooked and (more or less) healthy food. Particularly Dosas and Sambar (a South Indian specialty) in the morning, organic/ biodynamic coffee from Auroville, freshly squeezed juices like pomegranate, lime, pineapple, coconut, apple, mango and tangerine for Rs. 40 or less, and grilled tandoori specialties like Chicken Tikka and Nan from REAL tandoors.

We will miss the land; from the tall peaks of the Himalaya, the fresh air of hill stations, the warmth of the plains, the holy rivers, the sparkling waters of the Arabian Sea, the lush tropical jungles of Tamil Nadu, hills that look like piles of stones, coconut palms, beaches, temples, and monuments.

We will miss getting on a train on one side of the country and waking up on the other side of the subcontinent to the calls of, “ChaiCoffeeChaiCoffeeCoffeeChai.” and offers of breakfast and other assorted sundries. Drinking chai on a train is an experience in and of itself-nothing like a shot of sugar and caffeine to get you going in the morning as you chug past farm fields, villages and towns, and waving children.

We will miss the people, travellers with whom we shared time and other travellers who live in India who love their country with pride and are so excited to talk about it. We will miss the hearts and smiles of the Tamil people- by far the nicest people we have come across. As well as the wisdom and persistence of the Tibetan people that now make India home. Most of all we will miss the head wobble- there is no other gesture that is more appropriate for this country.

We will miss screaming down the road on a motorbike…horn blaring- dodging trucks, buses, rickshaws, people, and cows while the wind blows through our hair and the sun warms our skin. There is no other place in India where you can feel as free as you do on a motorbike exploring the world around you.

We will miss warmth by day, cool by night, being able to leave your windows open-as long as you have screens or mosquito netting, and wearing light clothing. We’ll miss the intoxicating smells of India from the fragrant jasmine, to the earthy sandalwood, the smell of burning wood fires, the lighting of incense morning and evening and the odors of spices like cumin, turmeric, chillies, ginger, garlic and curry wafting through the air.

Most of all, we’ll miss the chaos that is India.  The 1.1 billion people who get up every morning and work their butts off in taxis, hotels, farm fields, factories, and schools to make a living and to make their country better.  My hat is off to you.

India, you have entranced us- we will definitely be back.

Strange and Funny Signs

Yeah, they’re all over India- funny signs, misspelled words, incorrect grammar, odd implications, you name it. I have seen signs asking people, “Please Don Not Pass Urine Here,” signs telling people that, “Strolling is Prohibited” on a promenade made for strolling, signs imploring you to “Beware of your personal belongings,” as if they will turn on you if you don’t watch them. And the list goes on and on and on.

These two that Astrid and I found while walking around the lake in Kodaikanal however are just plain hilarious. I can’t read them because they are in Tamil, but the first one seems to be about “Johnny Lovey Condom” who is embarrassed because of his sexual prowess. I have never seen a penis with feet though and that frightens me a little. Actually…that frightens me a lot more than I let on, I mean why does this penis have feet? Why does he look to be in love? These are questions I may never answer, unless I learn Tamil.

And this one is obviously about a man who is having problems in his nether regions…as if something has fallen off or has bumps. He should probably see a physician sooner rather than later.

I thought to myself “Why not post these photos and let our readers caption them. So if you can think of a good caption just leave it in the comments section!

Cheers!

Fort Cochin and the Backwaters

I can see that Ft. Cochin is a nice place. Relaxed, laid-back, easy-going…you know sleepy. The influences of the spice seekers is plain in the architecture, Chinese fishing nets, Jewish synagogues, Portuguese houses, the Dutch Palace all on a little island that faces out into the Arabian Sea. It really is quite beautiful and although we had a annoying experience at our guest house, there were some things that really stood out. Lunch and coffee at the Kashi-Art-Cafe, walking by the Chinese fishing nets at sunset, tea and dessert at the Teapot, and spice and antique shopping in Jewtown. I totally recommend going to Kochi, but it really is a two-day stop, any more and it gets REALLY boring.

While in Kochi, we took the opportunity to take a backwater tour that was a combination of a short tour in a “country boat,” read canoe that took on water, and a longer tour of the backwaters in a houseboat that is designed like a kettuvallam, or rice barge. These boats are made of wood and then a frame of bamboo and reed is attached on top. Throw on a few chairs, two boatmen, and 16 or 17 of your closest friends and you’ve got yourself a tour on the Keralan backwaters. It was long, but it was also beautiful. Small islands dotting the waters, pink and yellow lotus flowers growing out of the mud, villages in the middle of nowhere, and gorgeous kingfishers (the bird, not the beer) flying around you.

We took off early this morning heading to Coimbatore in the Western Ghats of Tamil Nadu on our way to Kodaikanal, a hill station nearby to do some trekking and get some fresh air.

Less than two weeks to go! 😦

A Place to Avoid in Ft. Cochin

I don’t rant about lodging very often, but I know that a lot of people look at this blog (almost 2,000 people per month in fact) and I want to make sure that fellow travellers don’t get screwed while they travel in India.

Things started out well, we found (what we thought was) a nice place at Oy’ Cafe and Rooms, the room was big, sunny, and there was a cafe downstairs.  The guys who ran the place were young and very nice.  We got a Rs. 200 discount on the room that was supposed to be Rs. 1000 per night and everything was going well…Until a couple of days ago when Astrid and I started feeling ill.  It got worse yesterday, and we felt fortunate to have a nice, clean place to get well.

This morning the owner/ manager came to our room and asked if we were checking out.  We said, “No,” as we were trying to book forward travel and get better.  So we went to breakfast and then to go use the Internet,  when we decided to switch Internet places (which is crap at Café de Net BTW) because of a slow connection, we saw the owner/ manager of our guest house who looked worried.  He told us that someone had booked the room we were staying in and he “forgot to write it down.”  He wanted us to move out of our room and he said that he would find us another room.  Unfortunately, I know this game- you see, the “person who booked the room was going to pay the full amount of Rs. 1000 and this guy did the math really quickly. 

SO…we went back to the room right away, packed, paid our bill and got out of there…the manager wasn’t even around to look us in the eye when we left.  When we saw him as we were walking down the street to find a new guest house, he ducked into someone’s shop- the coward.  DON’T STAY AT OY’S IN FT. COCHIN.

Anyway, we found a nice room at Santa Cruz Tourist Home for Rs. 550 per night.  We’ll be leaving Ft. Cochin as soon as possible.

The Life Epectancy of Clothing…

…is right around six months if you wear the same things everyday or every other day. 

How do I know this? 

Because I’ve tested it and so has Astrid.  We bought new things to wear on this trip to India and as we come to the end of our trip, they are in shambles- broken zippers, tears, fraying, holes, you name it.  Astrid is talking about dumping her clothes in Mumbai before we get on the plane as she swears she will never wear them again. 

You see laundry in India is cheap to do- pay 100 rupees ($2.50 US) and you get most of your clothes cleaned, dried, pressed and returned to you.  Except everything that you send out gets beaten to a bloody pulp on rocks, floors, walls, wherever and what you get back is a sad representation of what you sent out.  We’ve passed laundries where they have traveller’s (and our own) clothes hanging out to dry on power lines, cyclone fences, and barbed wire.  It is disconcerting to walk by and see your underwear flapping in the breeze while people walk by.  And although your clothes get trashed, you ARE helping put food on some families table by paying to have your laundry done, so I don’t feel too bad about a faded shirt.

So, when you go out travelling, try it out yourself , see how long your clothes last.

Cheers!

Our Last Night in Varkala

Last night was our last night in Varkala before heading off on the 6:55 a.m train to Fort Cochin (Kochi) 165 km north early this morning.

We were treated to a beautiful sunset over the Arabian Sea, the best one since we have been here (see photo at left)– with deep reds and purples over a HUGE fleet of fishing boats that came out like the stars every night. and a great dinner with Chris, a really good friend that we met in Auroville and then met up with again in Varkala. We realized last night that we had hung out almost everyday for the last one and a half months! Chris owns a backpacker’s camp in Kabak Valley, Turkey called Reflections Camp that purportedly has the finest toilet in the Kabak Valley, let alone the entire country. We may take a little time next year to go check out Turkey.

Here is a picture of Me, Astrid and Chris in Varkala:

Here’s to good friends! It’s nice traveling with good people.

Cheers!

Indian Fashion Accessory of the Year…

Three words…Ali Baba Trousers.

The fashion fad of all fashion fads for the 2007-2008 India travel season is the Ali Baba trousers…also affectionately known by us as genie pants, diaper covers, grungy hippie premium denim, and load in the pants. They are made with billowy material usually with an elastic waist and about two yards more fabric from the waist to knees than you actually need. In fact most of these pants hang well below the knees and this- in essence- is what makes it look like the person has taken a dump in them.

And they are EVERYWHERE…I challenge any of you to go to any Western travelers haven in India- be it Goa, Hampi, Puri, Mamallapuram, or Varkala and NOT see these pants on someone. Male or female- it doesn’t matter- although in my humble opinion, men should NEVER wear these pants unless they are very comfortable with their masculinity and don’t mind looking like a big dork.

So to be an completely individual traveler in India, get your Ali Baba Trousers, sport your Om tattoo, carry around the Lonely Planet guide, read Shantaram, do yoga while you are just standing around, buy a drum, stare off into space and wear your hair in dreadlocks and you will look just like every other twenty-something backpacker that I have seen for the last six months.

Ed note: I am not knocking Shantaram- it is a great book and I would recommend it to anyone. Read it now before Johnny Depp ruins it on film.