Varanasi was a scorching 42 degrees and it showed no signs of relief until the odd hours in the morning. We decided it was enough and took the 8am train (when the heat was still somewhat bearable) to go to Nepal. This isn’t as un-common as we originally thought. A lot of people do this trip. From Varanasi, we took a 4 hour train to Gorakphur. We were lucky to find an express train that stopped only twice, otherwise it would’ve been a 6 hour trip.
From Gorakphur, we found a bus that went to Sunauli. It wasn’t hard. When we got off the train from Gorakphur, touters were coming up to us “You going to Nepal? Take our bus!” The bus stand, though, was right infront of the train station and it wasn’t necessary to listen to touters. We asked a few people which bus went to Sunauli and they directed us in the right direction. There were touters though, trying to get us to their private company buses that cost 1,000 Rupees. About 12 dollars. But instead, we found a bus for 80 Rupees. Just over 1 dollar. This bus though, really isn’t that nice. We put our luggage on the roof and were literally crammed in the back corner of the bus. Leg space is non-existent. You literally sit up 90 degrees to give some room for your knees. And the Indians will just keep piling on the people and shove you futher into the corner of the bus. We were on that bus for 3 hours in the baking heat of 40 degrees of the day. Longest 3 hour bus journey of our lives. Fun!
The streets in Sanuali Crossing
Once we arrived in Sunauli, at 3pm we decided it was time to have the first meal of the day since 6am wakeup. We went to a nice little hotel restaurant called Indo-Nepal. We realized afterwards it was recommended by Lonely Planet guide book.
Winning!
Soon after we found ourselves in the India Immigration Office getting a stamp out of India. They told us that Indian Rupees are illegal in Nepal and we have to change everything before we cross the border. We found a money exchange on the India side. Changed money, haphazardly because Ian was all tired and cracked out at that point. Christa is more on the ball.
The end of India and beginning of Nepal
The time came to walk across. Christa was expecting x-ray machines and border patrol. But really, the border simply said “India Border Ends” There’s a bit of a no-man’s land and then another sign “Welcome to Nepal” Tons of other people are also walking, driving, and taking rickshaws across the border seemingly unchecked and unbothered by the border patrol. However, tourists stand out and we were told to go to the Immigration Office on the Nepal side. A quick form fill out, stamp and we were sent on our way. It took us a 8 hours of travelling to cross the border and into our lodging in Lumbini in Nepal.
This trip diary is a brief reflection on my trip to Varanasi, India, visiting the burning Ghats and the Ganges river. It only took 14 hours on a train straight. We took a sleeper train, which provides beds. But it certainly doesn’t provide the quietness of a good nights sleep. We pull into some obscure train station at 7 in the morning and transfer trains and kept going until 11:30.
We get into Varanasi with 40 degree weather waiting for us. The rickshaw goes only to a certain part of the city and then we walked the rest of the way in. Varanasi is a very holy city with the Ganges running through it. In fact, Indians abroad order specially water from the Ganges for their different celebrations. Along the banks of the the Ganges are hundreds of Ghats (stairs leading to the water for whatever purpose, bathing, washing clothes, or what have you.)
Our hotel balcony overlooks the river and the Varanasi Ghats. Looking to the one side, there were hundreds of people in celebration. To the other side a never ending horizon of Ghats. But no time for that now. Sleep was calling. None of us slept a wink through the whole night of ear shattering cackling, jostling and tossing of the train.
Other parts of the ghats where it’s empty
Taking a stroll down the Ganges river takes you through some of the most colour views in India. We hopped onto a boat at 6 in the morning to catch the views of the locals at the Ghats. Mainly, they bath in there and wash clothes as well. We saw a boat river taking sips out of the Ganges too. The Ganges is regarded as one of the holiest rivers in India. So people would cremate their loved ones right on the edge of the river.
There are 5 things they don’t burn though. 1) Children 2)Pregnant women 3) Animals 4) Lepers 5) Holy people. For these 5, they tie a stone and drop them into the bottom of the Ganges. Now you can imagine how long they’ve been doing this for. And you can imagine the pollution it creates (on top of an already pretty polluted city). Let’s just leave it at the fact that it’s not uncommon to see carcasses floating down the Ganges or a stray dog eating a half decayed cow on the banks of the Ghats.
Live cremations
The Burning Ghats attracts the most attention as bodies are publicly cremated. It is a very lengthy process with lots of rituals. The very very poor people stay near the Burning Ghats waiting to die, as they don’t have family who can pay for them to be burned. It was explained that it took 200kg of wood to burn a body fully. The men would have the chest cavity remain, and the women, the hips. Because of our labour, that’s where the most bone density is.
The burning doesn’t smell because they use different woods for the burning. A mixture of Banyan tree wood, mango tree and sandal wood. But sandal wood is incredibly expensive, so they just use the powder of sandal wood.
Bathing in the ghats
Regardless, Varanasi has proved to be a good final last stop before we hop on the train and truck North into Nepal to escape this incredible heat. Hotter than the fort in the desert we just came from. Whew!
You’ve seen it in pictures. You know it by name. And you know the country just by looking at this building. The Taj Mahal. And it was about time we finally saw it. This is pretty much the only reason to come to Agra. That and it’s lesser known things, like the fort and gardens.
Ian didn’t expect himself to be incredibly excited. After all, it’s just another monument. It was also reaching 40 degrees at the heat of the day. Not the funnest time to go wandering by any means. And to top it off, the crowds have dispersed, as it is low season, but by jove! if they’re still isn’t a huge line up to go through security. All the reasons were there to not expect a huge “WHOA”. First of, did we mention the ridiculous price of 750 rupees? The locals pay only 20 rupees. Really, 750 rupees is about 15USD. But this has a sneaky upside to it. Because tourists have to pay 750 rupees, we are considered “high value ticket holders” so we skipped the lines and jumped right ahead through security (in hind sight we could’ve), going into the mausoleum, and entering through other high traffic areas.
So that was a little silver lining. Also, going after the heat of the day… is still hot. But at least you’re not wandering in direct sunlight at 2pm in 40 degree heat. And if you’re a photographer, you’d know that around starting at 5pm is the best time for photography too as it has the perfect lighting.
Sun setting on the Taj
With that, we enter the Taj Mahal. Sure the crowds were a little tough to push through. And sure we waited inline to get to a photographic area and then to be bombarded moments later with the locals. And sure we were shoved off immediately by impatient people (tourists alike). But despite all that shoving, pushing, heat, and expensive tickets, seeing the Taj will make you forget ill fated situations that’s part of seeing something this iconic. Awe.
As the sun crept up to it’s evening glow, Ian started running around trying to take advantage of the lighting. He couldn’t contain his excitement.
What is the Taj Mahal? It’s a building constructed in memory of a 3rd wife by the Maharaja (blah blah blah) But because the Maharaja took the taxpayers money to build it, the son (who succeeded him) decreed that he should be locked up for life for selfishly using the taxpayers money. Boy, if politics worked like that today! To make it a double whammy, he was locked up in the Fort across the way in perfect line of sight to the Taj. He had to suffered that sight until he died 8 years later.
View of the Taj from the prison
Now? Now the Ministry of Tourism is using the entrance fee proceeds for maintenance and upkeep. They even declared the space 500 meters around it the “pollution free” zone. So only electric cars, bicycle rickshaws, and horses are allowed in. This is to attempt and keep the Taj Mahal from turning colour from the pollution. And since the Ministry of Tourism is maintaining it, I guess in the end the Taj returned back to it’s people.
2 nights were plenty. We were itching to go to our last city. One of the holiest cities in India. Varanasi.
The air force streaked across the sky more and more often the closer we approached Jaisalmer. Military bases litter the eastern side of the city, the direction in which we were coming from. Pakistan is on the west side of the city by a few hundred kilometers. But that’s close enough to have the military presence for a quick response in case Pakistan decides to strike.
We were warned about the very aggressive touts that were in Jaisalmer. And forewarned we were. To the point where we booked a pick up from the hotel, which turned out to be a good idea. As the bus pulled into the bus stop aka, side of the road, the rickshaws appear from thin air along with their drivers. I didn’t know rickshaw drivers were even on the bus until Neil was stopped by one before he had a chance to even get off. As soon as Ian got off, he was shoved with brochures “Tokyo Palace.” Not a surprise as everyone thinks he’s Japanese. Like, com’on, look at him. Asian; Korean, Japanese, Chinese? Chinese is usually the last guess for some odd reason.
We fight our way to the back of the bus to take our packs, while the rickshaw drivers were cutting us off. They would throw their pitch, we’d walk around them.
“Where is our damn driver?!”
Some incredibly cute calves
Suddenly, a driver comes up to us and whips out a paper with “Christina” written on it, our friend who had booked the hotel and pick up. We all ignored the other drivers and went straight for him. Ian got lost in the confusion as someone grabbed his arm and tried to pull him aside. A quick smack on the wrist and a “I don’t want no trouble, just let me go” did it. The experience there was so chaotic. Hands in face, grabbing, people shouting at you all trying to get your attention and business.
The rickshaw sputtered to life and we were off. We get into our hotel in the morning and sat down for a meal. A quick consolidation of plans and in the afternoon, we were off to see some of the sites of Jaisalmer.
Alladin street-scapes
Jaislamer looks like the romanticized version of Alladin, but in real life; minus the flying carpets and genies. It was a desert city. The old city had very tight streets the width of a cow and amazing drivers; rickshaws and motorbikes alike, squeezing through and honking. Ropes spanned the top of the buildings with clothes drying in the desert sun, while other ropes had a canopy to provide some relief from the sun as it casted a hot shadow on the ground.
And then there was the fort. A living fort from the 1600 if not older. Most the city spills outside of the fort now but everything is planned around the fort. The fort sustained numerous battles and it was evident in its bloody history. And now, the battle its fighting is against water damage as the ancient walls give way to landslides because the foundation had had simply enough of the fort. But the city is repairing it to keep it alive as there are businesses and people living in the fort.
The view of the fort
2 days later, the skin on our bums were chaffed off by the day long camel ride into the remote desert. We started early in the day to beat the desert heat. We sat under a nice big tree for lunch after 2 hours on the camel. We had lunch around 11. Our guide, Dellboy, tied – effectively – handcuffs to the camels feet to prevent them from running away too far while we ate. We set off again at 2 in the afternoon. So much for beating the heat. Even the camels didn’t want to go into the sun.
It wasn’t too much later when we arrive at our sand dunes for the night. By this time, everyone was groaning from pain, in their derriers, their legs, their back, and pretty much everything. A safari it was, but we weren’t warned about how painful riding a camel is.
The formation of the caravan of camels
The camels lay down for us to get down, slowly in agonizing pain our legs swung over the saddle. The handcuffs were put on the camels again, and shame, we saw one camel try to jump with joy that his work was done, but only to find he could only hop. Slightly. And then he was sad again.
A beer boy appeared from thin air (I don’t know if it’s the Alladdin spell in the desert, but people seem to do that here…) Everyone bought a beer from him to watch the sun set on the desert dunes. The sky turned red and the scarabs crawled out from hiding. You know those little beetles you saw in The Mummy? Yeah, those black beetles came out. And they bite. But they don’t dig into your skin though, luckily.
The black beetles drinking liquids
As night settled herself over us, dinner was served. And we served the scarabs as hundreds and thousands, possibly, decided to test if we were dinner. We sat under the brightest stars we’ve seen in over 2 years. Star gazing was definitely on the agenda that night. Each of us pretended to know what constellations we were talking about and pointed out shooting stars. Christa missed every single one. The moon didn’t rise until the morning, so we had a whole night of bright star gazing.
We all slept in a plastic bag with raised edges to that the scarabs couldn’t crawl in and into our blankets. The desert was cold at night. Dropped down into the mid teens. But in the day, mid thirties. To be expected, but to experience it was brutal.
Camel safari through the dunes
The moon rose at 4 am, and then the sun rose an hour later. Dellboy, our guide, rose with the moon and started making breakfast for us. Tea was ready by the time we wanted to watch the sunrise. But only Ian was up for that. After boiled egg breakfast, we were back on the painful saddle. Luckily we took the short half day back. We met up with the jeep after an incredible 3 hours of pain.
We shot back to the city and settled ourselves into the fort this time. We had to spend a night in the old fort. And this was an old city. Everything was stone. Our hotel was right against the wall of the city so we could look over the desert from our small window in our room. The building the hotel was in spans over 3 centuries old. The roads inside the old city was the width of half a cow and only motorbikes made it through. Not before running it’s tires all over the cow dung which was plentiful. Open defecation is popular.
Sunset in the desert
The experience of staying in the fort is pretty unique. The sad thing is, inside the fort, it’s completely based on tourism. There was not a single local shop for local people who don’t want any trouble there. Christa went with our friend Christina to get a full body ayurvedic massage for post-camel safari comfort.
Next day, we got on the night train to a very iconic city in India; Agra.
An agonizing 5 hour train ride from Jaipur proved to be disastrous, for our stomachs anyways. It was hot, stuffy, and the stomach provided no relief from the heat or discomfort. The sleeper trains that were seemingly comfortable for 15 minutes was very uncomfortable within 1 minute. We had 5 hours to go.
We get into our guesthouse in Jodhpur, eventually, and literally just exploded. Literally. We tagged team the toilet and beat the crap out of it. Or more accurately the crap was beaten out of us. Our friend from across the hall and up one floor could hear us. It was fantastic. We started our anti-biotics when we got into the guest house. We were smart enough to pick them up before we left Korea. Finally using them. Ian, the Canadian had a fever and felt cold in 30+ degree weather, while Christa was feeling hot. The room had a fan with one speed. No compromise. We slept for the whole afternoon and night and into the morning, while occasionally waking up to use the toilet. We took the pills when we need to and drank liquids as much as possible. There’s nothing more fun than having your food trying to kill you while travelling. Finally, near the morning, Ian had enough strength to go to the roof top restaurant while Christa had already felt a lot better from the anti-biotics. Ian thought it was a great idea to let the stomach bug stew in Jaipur.
The most that Ian saw of Jodhpur was the toilet walls of the guesthouse while Christa managed to go zip lining down the fort wall of Jodhpur. This fort was the same fort that Bain escaped from in Batman: The Dark Knight Rises franchise. Also, Christian Bale (Batman) escaped from by free soloing up the prison walls and making his leap of faith to freedom.
Christa ziplining
Zip lining down the wall proved to be the biggest attraction in Jodhpur. It was slightly expensive, but there are 6 levels to zip line down. Took 45 minutes to get all the down. You get to control the speed of your descent with a brake. But if you slow down too much, you won’t be able to get to the last platform, which forces you to go a little quicker. But it’s no problem if you don’t make it across. Someone comes to your rescue. Ian hung out in the toilet at the guest house.
Finally, after 2 nights, on the 3rd day, it was time to move. The desert was calling. The call of the desert fort in Jaisalmer was beckoning us. It was time to go.
We flew into Jaipur from Goa 2 days before Holi. We came specifically to Jaipur to see an elephant festival on the eve of Holi. Spirits were high. A succesful booking of a flight into Jaipur, with a transfer in Bangalore, refreshed our wallets with ATM money from home and got into our hotel with no problems.
“The elephant festival is cancelled” says the hotel manager. That was the first thing about it we hear since entering Jaipur. The government cancelled it because of the animal cruelty. BOOOOO!!! We reconfirmed with searching for news on the internet. Sure enough, it was cancelled. Fair enough too, poor elephants. They’re regarded as a holy animal but the ones that are “working” under the care of the owner, we don’t really know how well they’re being treated. Some of them are healthy (looking) and some of them are so sad looking.
Gardens inside the fort
Regardless, we make the best of it. We wandered into the old Pink City, which this city is reknowned for. Wonder why it’s called Pink City? Well, it’s probably what you’re thinking. All the buildings are pink. Literally. Especially in the old city, inside the walls. We met this fellow, Ravi during our walk at night. He lived in France and spoke 5 different languages. Spanish, Italian, English, French, Hindi and his native language (which I can’t remember). Ok, 6 languages. All fluently too!
We said our farewells and promised to visit him the next day for Holi, ate some Momo’s from a street vendor and hurried back to the hotel not too soon after as one of our friends, Neil, came down with food poisoning. Something he ate at the airport transfer in Bangalore. We brought him some gross ayurvedic medecine reccommended by locals. “Tastes awful” he says, but next day, it brought him right back to shape.
Morning was Holi. Neil and Christina ran out to get more medecine while Christa and Ian were looking over the railing to see if they’ll get hammered with coloured powder as part of the festival. They came back clean. We were in utter disbelief. “We have to get them before they get back in”. With our Holi powder, we ran out and covered them in it. Some Indians nearyby to us saw us partaking and also “Holi-ed” us. It’s started.
Holi powder sold on the streets
We walk down the street to some gentle people dousing us in Holi powder. The police came and chased them away and shouted at us “You should go to a hotel! Get off the street!” – Party poopers. We continued to the main road and was hammered by tons of people Holi-ing us. They would stop the car, get out and rub us with colour. They would stop the motorycycles, get out of rickshaws, run from across the street… it became mayhem. Actual mayhem. Imagine a zombie apocolypse but instead of eating you, they rubbed you with powder. They sniffed you out and found you.
Infact, it got quite unbearable because the girls were being frisked. A quick feel. But a lot of them. Actually, this is a good time for anyone thinking of doing Holi in India – GIRLS: YOU WILL BE GROPED, beforewarned. It was starting to get incredibly annoying and frustrating to have to fend off the pervs and get out of a huge circle of them. The cops provided some relief as they would come and help get rid of the crowd of people. Finally, we’ve had enough and hopped into a richkshaw. We haggled for 150 rupees to take us around into the old city.
Horrible shot of us being Holi-ed
The driver must’ve drank some “special lassi” before we got in. As we started he was fine. Half way through the ride, he wasn’t even looking at the road and turning right back around to talk to us, swerving right through traffic and missing cars and pedestrians by millimeters. We’ve had enough of the drunken rickshaw driver very fast and told him to drop us off at a party at a nearby hotel we heard of earlier.
We get upstairs hearing some massive heavy beats with high expectations. At this point, we were completely covered in colour powder and when we got up, it was a rain party. The dance floor had fountains and it was all wet. And sitting on the table was a bunch of holi powder for a whole crowd of nobody. There was us 4 and 2 other Indians. Whatever. Good enough. We neede to avoid the crowd outside for the while. It was getting way too heavy.
Escaping the chaos into the Rain Party
We ended up staying at this party for 5 hours as the crowd actually started to pick up. Uplifting trance to progressive house, the beats were right up Ian’s alley. The waterpark dancfloor, not so much. But whatever, we could use a shower in the 35 degree open air party. Beers went around and friends were met as other colour-blasted tourists started trickling in, in avoidance of the chaos outside.
As the party died own we made our way back to the hotel. Around 5pm, the Indians are either too high, too drunk or too tired to continue to party. The next day, Ian started getting some food poisoning. He held it off with some mild stomach pills. We went to the infamous fort in Jaisalmer where “The Fall” was filmed, at least some of it.
It was a very beautiful fort and we spent the whole day just exploring it. It was really actually the old palace where the Maharaja’s lived. It was coined “City Palace” with the actual fort a kilometer away to protect the city with secret tunnel access. Yes, we went to the fort via the secret tunnels. This fort also has the biggest cannon in Asia. We weren’t allowed to take pictures. You’ll have to take our word for it – not that we searched through Asia for the biggest cannon, but it was self proclaimed (by the Indians). It was big, but Ian doesn’t think it’s the biggest.
Jaipur was the first fort of many, many, forts in the near future. We went back to the hotel for Ian’s stomach to brew the nasty. The next morning, Ian didn’t take the meds, and Christa also fell ill from some water she drank at the fort the other day. But that day was “on-the-move” day with a 5 hour train ride.
My god, it was the longest 5 hours to Jodhpur ever. R.I.P Toilets…
Goa, the holy mecca of Goa Psychedelic Trance music. The origin of it all. A small little state that was hill locked and inaccessible by land for the longest time was a Portuguese colony. Evidence of colonial rule is very evident through every corner and bend as we scootered around.
We stumble in at 4:30 in the morning. We love stumbling in when everything is closed because we like to get screwed in places to sleep. We stumble out of a sleeper bus. Max, our wonderful German friend that we’ve been leap frogging back and forth with already had our accommodation all sorted out for us. We trudge along a beach and shortly arrive in these simple wooden huts. We crash for the night and then wake up to see the beach front.
Ian spinning poi
The beaches are exactly as you romanticized in your dreams. White sand, blue ocean and thumping beats in the beach side restaurants. This was in Patnum. We were very very South Goa, where it was very quiet and no parties happen. If you’re searching for the parties, it’s advised to hit (world re-known) Anjuna beach and Vargator. Patnum is where you go when you have had too much partying for your life. You will find a lot of Europeans discussing “And that DJ should’ve played at “Hilltop” instead of Bar 9 the other night…” as they were apparently all connoisseurs of North Goa party scene…
We wander over to the next beach about 2km away called Palolem with a beach that was completely littered with ocean view restaurants and just pumping beats away – including our favourite Gangnam Style. We spotted a place we’d like to move over to in Palolem with a livelier vibe. Let’s be honest, in Patnum if there’s any more excitement, a watching-paint-dry contest would break out.
Sunsets on beach
Palolem in contrast provided a bit more any music if you take your headphones off. entertainment. 2 silent discos came by during our time there. By law, all open air parties must be shut down by 10pm. And as such, silent discos aren’t actually loud (by nature) and so was allow to carry on until 4am. Pretty early considering its reputation… If this is your first time hearing of a silent disco, picture this: A bunch of people in a venue. These said people are all wearing headphones. Listening to the same channels to the DJ’s spinning live. So really, there isn’t
The second silent disco a few days later, was in a more discreet location nestled in the midst of bars settled in a small bay between Patnum and Palolem beach just cresting over a flight of rocky stairs (that gets incredibly dangerous after dark) and just a shot over a wooden bridge (which gets just as dangerous). Perfect location. Headphone prices are 600 rupees, or 12 USD. Drinks extra.
Markets in Palolem
We enjoyed our small town party vibe in our new lodgings just set slightly behind the main beach in a place called “Brown Bread Coco Huts”. 8 rooms made a semi circle all facing into a common courtyard covered in hammocks under pineapple trees.
Just beyond our new lodging was Rahul’s Cooking class, which everyone was pretty excited to take part in. Learning how to cook Indian food. Yes, we will cook you our newly learnt Indian dishes when we see you guys next time. The funnest part of the whole cooking class, besides eating, is learning how to make cheese.
We’ll share you the secret when we meet you. Tee hee.
In the end, massive partying didn’t happen, nor did scuba diving. But it seemed like a much needed rest as many people were starting to fall ill. Keeping it low key in Goa wasn’t something we expected to do but ended up being quite necessary.
We stayed long enough. 4 nights in Palolem and 2 nights in Patnum. We’ve done all we could and gotten sick and better. We also had to start heading North to search colours that flew specially for this one time occasion every year – Holi.
As much climbing as we’ve done, nothing prepared us for the limitless amount of boulders that Hampi provided. The bus ride in from Hospet (the closest big town to Hampi) provided us with a view with the extent of boulder problems that sniffed out.
We get off the bus and tried to find our way to a pre-booked hostel called “Goan Corner”. The first few rickshaw drivers we met explained to us that “The Goan Corner is demolished” – Seriously? Demolished? It was hard to believe. In our Lonely Planet guide book, they explained that rickshaw drivers would say something like that and take you to a “better and cheaper hostel” for you and they get a commission for it.
We shrug it off and truck our way to the ferry to take us across the river where the Goan Corner supposedly was. We march around a huge rice paddy field to find at the end of the rainbow and found *drum roll* the Goan Corner.
Temples ruins and boulders
Our dear German friend Max (from our first stop, Mahabs) was already there. It was the first time we finally made a point to meet up during our travels, and was successful at it. All the other times, it has been bumping into him and moving on.
We settle in and work our way back over the river to see what we could see. And that we could see was – a lot of boulders and a massive temple sticking up from the middle of it. Hanuman, the monkey God, according to legend, sat on top of a hill and threw boulders all around the place.
We decided to meet up with a tour group that went around Hampi by bicycle. Not a bad idea, considering everything was bicycle distance apart. That and it was early enough in the morning that it was still cool enough to not sweat our asses off before the heat of the afternoon – reaching toward 36 degrees (dry heat luckily)
Tourism has used Hampi as a main income source. Every store is geared toward tourism in some way, wifi, guest house, restaurants, trinkets, clothing, etc. Infact, Hampi will get more touristic as it was recently recognized by the UN to become part of UNESCO. This incentive made the government destroy restaurants and hotels that were “illegally” ran (because they didn’t have a permit). And just 2 weeks before our arrival, they demolished a good part of the city.
Rice field outside our “Goan Corner”
So the rickshaw driver wasn’t exactly lying.
The government destroyed businesses. And it was very evident as we still saw the pile rubble of its former self. We’d imagine UNESCO to provide money to help support monuments and also the day to day life of the village locals. Instead the money is given and then used to demolish the businesses and leave the locals scrounging for jobs and food. The idea of preserving the monument has it’s downsides it would seem. The darker side of keeping UNESCO Heritage Sites alive apparently also means destroying livelihoods in this situation.
After spending some time in Hampi, we took a sleeper bus and headed to Goa. The epitome of South India.
We retreated back into Tamil-Nadu, the first province we entered in the beginning of our India chapter. We retreated to higher grounds, running from the hell fire that’s scorching the plains before the humidity comes to bake it into a sauna. At 3,000 meters, the night air drops to a very comfortable 19 degrees. An inviting change after suffocating 34 degree nights at the bottom of the mountain.
Ooty is the highest hill station in India and one of the most popular. Hill station started with the British trying to find a way to escape the killing heat of the South Indian summers and found that the high mountains provided ample relieve. As already a retreat for the rich, this area is re-known as a tourist area, however, surprisingly not completely destroyed by tourism yet. (thank goodness)
As a British safe haven, it also doubles as their tea plantations. And over the years, this area transformed into a tea plantation capital of South India, only next to Darjeeling in the North.
GETTING THERE
Miniature train from Coonor to Ooty
Getting here wasn’t exactly a walk in the park from Kochin. We took a 5 hour train to a bus to another bus to another train. Our first train departed at 11 am and we got into the major city of Coimbatore. From Coimbatore train station, we found the bus that took us to the “New Bus Stand” at the edge of the city. From there, we found another bus that takes you to Ooty, but we got as far as “Coonor” Here, it was about 10pm at night. We had no choice but to stay the night here, as we have to catch another train in the morning to finally finish the leg of the trip to Ooty. Be fore warned, the bus ride is not very pleasant. Going up or down the mountain.
This said train leaves at 7:45 in the morning. This is the small miniature train that trucks up the mountain, stopping along several other stations. This last part of the journey took 3 hours to get up finally to the tea plantations. No where online could we find an update schedule of the trains. So we took a picture of the schedule for anyone to use. This is recent as of March 2013 from Coonor:
Train times from Coonor
More tea plantations!
We stayed at the YWCA near the horse race track. It was a nice clean facility, but the service and kitchen was absolutely horrendous. At any point in time, they only have 2 items from the menu. And it’s dal – or lentils. That or mixed vegetable curry. It doesn’t make for a very satisfying dinner. We ended up usually doing the 20 minute walk into the city and finding a place to eat there.
There are plenty of things to see in Ooty if you decide stay for awhile longer. Trekking is always popular, but we wanted to see the tea plantations. And that’s exactly what we saw. Tea plantations covered the hills beyond the reaches of the eyes. It’s very similar to rice paddy fields, the way the system is set up.
There was also a wildlife sanctuary that wasn’t very worth it. One new friend we met came up from that side of the mountain and saw more wildlife taking a bus through than we did renting a jeep specifically to go see animals. We counted a smashing 3 elephants, 2 of which were chained up. A handful of peacocks and 2 handful of monkeys. We didn’t think it was worth our money either. But that was our experience. A black panther was spotted a few weeks before we arrive. They do hide pretty well.
The only elephant that wasn’t chained up
After all that’s said and done, we have to brave the heat oncea gain. Hampi, here we come!
Arriving in the heat of the afternoon the bus drops us off and we pick up a rickshaw driver to our guest house. Fort Kochin is filled with guest houses. A ferry ride away is Ernakulam where most people are dropped for the train station and bus. Fort Kochin, though, is where you want to be. It buries deep nasty secrets of old European feuds and battles over Indian grounds, including Jewish, Portuguese and Dutch settlements. Most of the fort now are just remnants of a conflicted past, but kept alive with names like “Bastion street” or “Rampart street” – inviting discussion of 16th European fort and city planning.
However, not all is lost to the times of history. Our guesthouse is 200 years old. We stayed at “Dream Catcher Guesthouse”. Although we wrote a review for it on Tripadvisor, it was under the scrutiny of the owner as he sat us down and read what we were writing on the review. So it’s not exactly truthful. Beware of “Dream Catcher Guesthouse” as the owner is businessman first, host second. Not to say it was a bad stay, but there was the very heavy money greedy vibe. He did also hook us up with tickets to the Kelari and Kathakali show.
Moving on, the Franciscan Church is 400 years old, the Jewish Synagogue is over 500 years old, and the city itself breathes off its colourful past. And in its past that currently struggles to live in modern times gives way to Kelari Payattu. This martial art is very special to South India, in Kerala State specifically and is the only remaining martial art form alive from over 5,000 years ago. Older than Chinese Shaolin Monk Kung Fu. In fact, this martial art is to believed the beginning and origin of all martial arts. We had the opportunity to see a very rare performance of Kelari Payattu.
Arm lock techiques
On a small stage and a smaller audience, these martial artists showed hand to hand combat, weapons, and pressure point techniques. They fly through the air demoing how to attack, parry, and counter while weaving and feinting each other. At the end of the show, Neil, our friend from Korea whom we met up in Kochin, went up to the stage and was shown a wrist lock technique.
The benefits of Kelari is known more widely through a different medium. Through it’s healing powers. As martial art masters have to know how to break down a body, they must also learn to rebuild the body when its hurt. And as such, the traditional medicine called “Ayurvedic” comes from the Kelari history of re-building the body after battles and hard training sessions. Ayurvedic medicine incredibly popular, well-known, and most widely used in India. This includes deep tissue massages, different oil baths, and lots of stretching. In fact, it’s believed that Yoga is a branch of Ayurvedic healing that found a different audience.
The power of ayurvedic shouldn’t be shrugged off as some laughable homeopathic treatment. More than 5000 years of recorded medical documentation provides its support. We have seen first hand evidence of the healing powers at work. The martial artists on stage have had a deep stab wound to his thigh from training. (They train with real weapons) He is perfectly fine now. And even more impressive, one of the other martial artists has had Polio and suffered from a walking inhibition. We clearly couldn’t tell, especially when he’s jumping around dodging attacks from a spear while throwing counter attacks with his swords. But when he stands still one leg is clearly more deformed than the other. But through Ayurvedic treatments, he can do more than the average human.
Kathakali dance
It seriously is a pity to see these martial artists pour their hearts out on stage show casing their life secrets and no one really knows of them. Ironically enough, everyone knows about the Kathakali dance, aka Indian Miming with percussion. It is a very over rated dance, if we could call it a dance. This traditional dance has 2 drums, a cymbal and a singer who narrates the story while the characters mime out their speeches. During the show, a few people walked out and saw several others covering their ears because of the percussions as the dancers stomp around and yell on stage. I think those people should’ve seen the Kelari martial art performance. They would’ve enjoyed it a lot more. After the show, we went for dinner. A night isn’t complete without a mandatory surprise thunderstorm to cool the night and call out the mosquitos. We ran back to our guest house.
