INDIA

17th January - 27th February 2004

Jamesy, Andrew and I spent six weeks travelling around the subcontinent, speeding around in rickshaws, lounging on beaches and eating more curry than you'd care to imagine.

 

We left Rajasthan to head into Gujarat, stopping at its former capital, Ahmedabad. One guidebook dubs it 'the Manchester of India', due to its choking traffic and suffocating pollution. But, it is also remarkable for being the site of Gandhi's ashram, from where he built up his satyagraha movement in the 1920s and 1930s. An overnight train south took us to Bombay, its Gateway to India literally that for anyone that arrived on the subcontinent by liner during colonial times. And then, it was time to relax. Crazy travelling came to an end, at least for a while. The sun, sand and seafood of Goa beckoned ... We stayed in Dona Paula, near Panjim, in my uncle's house.

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Ahmedabad: Gandhi built his celebrated ashram here

At Gandhi's ashram, everyone was very friendly, almost as if the aura of the great man made sure everyone was lovely to each other. Had a good chat to these lads, who look a bit like a boy band (the cool one, the cheeky one, the uncomplicated one, the camp one, etc) ... ... and then had my photo taken with them, but I wouldn't like to speculate how I'd fit into the band. (The Staffordian one?!) Answers on a postcard. Had a good chat with these lads too - college students from Ahmedabad. Unfortunately, we couldn't take them up on their offer of tea at their place, as we had to move on ... ... but not before another piccie!
Gandhiji woz ere. This is where the homespun one lived for a number of years - his bedroom is reverentially closed off and preserved, as is his nearby prayer ground. He still sits in the midst of it all, contemplating. I love this. It sounds like a voiceover to a film ad on HBO.

Bombay: The capital of Indian chic

A typical Bombay scene - a Barista coffee bar, with Bollywood posters, taxis and the faint whiff of cow beyond. The Gateway of India - a grand sight indeed. Behind the Gateway, the maritime traffic still teems. It's big. And it's a gate. Whoa.
A striking red outfit against the Imperial stone. More boat life - many of the ferries that ply from here go to Elephanta Island. Since the bombs of recent times, the area directly in front of the Gateway has been closed to traffic - perfect for the hordes of postcard sellers, ferry ticket touts and photographers, all eager for a slice of the tourist dollar! A rare area of repose in central Bombay: the gardens of Horniman Circle.
A perfect place to laze about if you've got nothing better to do. One of Bombay's most famous buildings is a railway station. It used to be called Victoria Terminus, until the same crowd that renamed the city Mumbai, renamed the station Chhatrapati Sivaji Terminus. But most locals still call it 'VT'. It's a heady mix of Gothic and Indian styles - sort of St Pancras, with elephants.

Goa! Paradise!

Aaah, Goa. On our first evening in Dona Paula, we went down to the jetty to take in the scene and watch the sunset. Goa, a west coast state, is well-placed to see the sun go down. We knew that and so did loads of Indians - including a group of Engineering students from Punjab - who were there to watch it with us. Jeffrey, our guide and chaperone for the next week. He looked after us in Goa, driving us to the crazy places we wanted to visit in his Maruti Suzuki that endearingly played a tune when it reversed. Aaah. The jetty slides into darkness.
The moon and deep blue sky from the top of our house at night. Not our house - but that of the Braganza family. They are an old colonial family from Portugal who have been in Goa for four centuries, and retain a house displaying the glory, albeit faded, of the Portuguese era. Such is their modern-day financial predicament, facing mounting bills for the upkeep of such a property, that they offer guided tours to visitors, for a small fee. This is the ballroom, complete with dazzling chandeliers. Shall we dance?! The present day matriarch Mrs Braganza, who showed us round her family home. The stairwell outside, which divides the property. It is essentially semi-detached, stemming from the initial build, when one branch of the family had the right side, the other branch the left.
Outside, the house is just as impressive. Abundant flowers outside only add to the charm. 'Ancestral Goa' - telling the story of Goa via the medium of perspex models of 'traditional' pursuits. Here is the fisherman of old! And this is the distillery, where the perspex models are making local brew feni from cashews!
Ancestral Goa's highpoint, or, at least, something that it likes to brag about. This, ladies and gentlemen, is ... The Largest Laterite Structure in India! Can it get much better than this?! It was created by an 'artistic genius', according to the board next to it. Your typical whitewashed Goan church. There is certainly a very different flavour in the state, lent by its Mediterranean-style culture, of which its Catholicism is part. Hotel Venite - the weirdest dining room ever, where successive generations of stoned backpackers have left their marks on the wall. Weeeeeeird!
On Candolim Beach, we helped land this fishing boat, pushing it up onto the wooden blocks, so the fishing guys could unload the mackerel they caught. One fisherman tried to sell me handicrafts. Crime doesn't pay. Unless, that is, you're allegedly a big Bombay mafia don / drug dealer, in which case you get a house a bit like this. It was tough in Goa. Our greatest hardship was probably opening a bottle of wine in the absence of a corkscrew. James has his methods, which, in this case, ended up with a lot of wine on the floor. Jeffrey in the kitchen, cooking up some traditional Goan spicy sausages.
This was my first banana in 20 years and my first beer in, ooh, 20 minutes. At the Savoi Spice Plantation. To harvest the betel nut - a mild stimulant that many Indians chew as a constituent part of paan - people climb the spindly trees, grab the nuts, then contrive the trunks to bend over so they can leap to the next tree to do it all over again. Saves coming back down! A jack fruit. Very very big. The guided tour of the plantation was very interesting - and they gave us a slap-up lunch to finish it off. A great day.
We spotted this monkey, and lots of his mates, while driving along a country road from the Plantation. Inside the Hindus' Shri Mangesh temple near Ponda. This elaborate cart is used as a key part of a big temple festival that takes place every year. The cart again, next to the temple's large octagonal tower, known as the deepmal. Apparently, its one of the most famous lamp towers in Goa. I thought there were lots of others that vied for that title, to be honest - but, hey, the guide book knows... One of the beaches at Vagator. The red shack is painted in the livery of Kingfisher beer, emblazoned with its slogan: 'Maka Naka Cold Drink!' ('Don't want a soft drink!')
The vehicle and passenger ferry over the River Tiracol, in the far north of the state. The banner above the passengers advertises a state polio immunisation programme. Tiracol Fort, which is now a heritage hotel. The church lies within its walls. The view over the estuary is astoundingly unspoilt. Then James turned up. Hardly anyone or anything, as far as the eye could see, save sand, water and trees. And gazpacho, when lunch turned up: yep, the heritage hotel peddle bruschetta and expensive beer to tourists for the privilege of sharing their vantage point. Fair enough, I suppose!
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© Ben James 2004