Friday, February 06, 2004
PANJIM, Goa! - and it really deserves that exclamation mark! And that one too!
We arrived yesterday evening after a marathon all day train journey, that slid by surprisingly easily, thanks to some deep-thinking rounds of chess and some Middlemarch action (ooo, that Dr Lydgate, he's going to break some hearts, isn't he ...!). Jeffrey - my uncle's brother - was there to meet us at Karmali station, just outside Old Goa, where many of the Portuguese colonial buildings are concentrated. It's all whitewash or faded colours, with sloping tiled roofs, a sort of laid back Latino feel under the sun - we're going to be visiting again.
Via Panjim, the capital, we arrived in Dona Paula, at my uncle John's house ... It's beautiful! From my bedroom window, I can almost reach out and touch the coconuts and pomegranates that are growing outside. From the terrace, you can catch a glimpse of the estuary of the river Mandovi and the Arabian Sea. We've just been sitting up there supping a couple of beers, prior to heading off to eat. The night is warm, a little sweltering actually (good old air conditioning!), but I'm not complaining about the sun beating down on us all day.
We sampled our first proper Goan cuisine last night, at a place called the White House, which is run by a lady who basically churns out home cooking at dead good prices. I went straight for my first Fish Curry Rice, the typical dish in these parts, all creamy oceanic goodness! Jeffrey also told us to try a Masala Mackerel, fried with a crispy coating of scrummy spice ... And we've got two weeks of this! Oh, the pain, the pain ...!
A couple of hours ago, we saw the sun set from Dona Paula jetty - along with dozens of Indian tourists (including a bunch of Punjabi electronics students, who mistakenly thought I was cool enough to want to have their photo taken with them). Now, we've seen some sunsets on this trip. Mount Abu was dead special, as was Udaipur, over the glistening lake. But as the glowing ball (here we go, another enthusiastic sunset description; he's trying to be literary ...) slid perceptibly beneath the horizon, flanked by palm trees and a dainty harbour of little boats, I thought: I'm going to like it here. Even the iron ore barges looked picturesque!
We arrived yesterday evening after a marathon all day train journey, that slid by surprisingly easily, thanks to some deep-thinking rounds of chess and some Middlemarch action (ooo, that Dr Lydgate, he's going to break some hearts, isn't he ...!). Jeffrey - my uncle's brother - was there to meet us at Karmali station, just outside Old Goa, where many of the Portuguese colonial buildings are concentrated. It's all whitewash or faded colours, with sloping tiled roofs, a sort of laid back Latino feel under the sun - we're going to be visiting again.
Via Panjim, the capital, we arrived in Dona Paula, at my uncle John's house ... It's beautiful! From my bedroom window, I can almost reach out and touch the coconuts and pomegranates that are growing outside. From the terrace, you can catch a glimpse of the estuary of the river Mandovi and the Arabian Sea. We've just been sitting up there supping a couple of beers, prior to heading off to eat. The night is warm, a little sweltering actually (good old air conditioning!), but I'm not complaining about the sun beating down on us all day.
We sampled our first proper Goan cuisine last night, at a place called the White House, which is run by a lady who basically churns out home cooking at dead good prices. I went straight for my first Fish Curry Rice, the typical dish in these parts, all creamy oceanic goodness! Jeffrey also told us to try a Masala Mackerel, fried with a crispy coating of scrummy spice ... And we've got two weeks of this! Oh, the pain, the pain ...!
A couple of hours ago, we saw the sun set from Dona Paula jetty - along with dozens of Indian tourists (including a bunch of Punjabi electronics students, who mistakenly thought I was cool enough to want to have their photo taken with them). Now, we've seen some sunsets on this trip. Mount Abu was dead special, as was Udaipur, over the glistening lake. But as the glowing ball (here we go, another enthusiastic sunset description; he's trying to be literary ...) slid perceptibly beneath the horizon, flanked by palm trees and a dainty harbour of little boats, I thought: I'm going to like it here. Even the iron ore barges looked picturesque!
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
MUMBAI (BOMBAY), Maharashtra - It did officially change its name a few years ago, but it seems that many people still hark back to Bombay. The word Mumbai is apparently some Hindu goddess and there is a sense that the name change may well have been influenced by fundamentalist motives. So, as in many instances in India, the English imperialist past has come to assume an inoffensive neutrality, at least in contemporary language.
We had lunch with a friend of a friend of Jamesy, a chap called Jim who has lived a good deal of his life in India (via Harrow and Oxford I believe...) and many years in Bombay itself. He provided some interesting insights into what goes on in the city - but the thing he enthused most about food, specifically the food that is going to be on offer to us in Goa. There's the fish, obviously, of all shapes and sizes, but also the special pork sausages ("don't let them cut them up - eat them like bangers!") and the feni (special local liquor distilled from palm or cashew ... sounds scarily potent!). He also talked of food in Bombay itself, and recommended the distinctive Punjabi Chinese cuisine that can be found. We sampled some just now: not sure what was Punjabi about my stir-fried beans and noodles, apart from the TV above the dining room showing live cricket. Anyway, it was great to meet someone with some local knowledge, and especially, erm, entertaining considering he described himself as "somewhat to the right of Mussolini". It was jolly lucky that there were no lefty pinkos present; you know, the sort that work in BBC news. There may have been some disagreement there.
We heard all kinds of horror stories about Bombay before we arrived. In fact, it's great! Much easier to travel in than Delhi - it seems cleaner, a little less hassly, certainly more westernised (there's no shortage of coffee-bars in the Starbucks mould). And tomorrow, we take the train to paradise: Goa here we come!
We had lunch with a friend of a friend of Jamesy, a chap called Jim who has lived a good deal of his life in India (via Harrow and Oxford I believe...) and many years in Bombay itself. He provided some interesting insights into what goes on in the city - but the thing he enthused most about food, specifically the food that is going to be on offer to us in Goa. There's the fish, obviously, of all shapes and sizes, but also the special pork sausages ("don't let them cut them up - eat them like bangers!") and the feni (special local liquor distilled from palm or cashew ... sounds scarily potent!). He also talked of food in Bombay itself, and recommended the distinctive Punjabi Chinese cuisine that can be found. We sampled some just now: not sure what was Punjabi about my stir-fried beans and noodles, apart from the TV above the dining room showing live cricket. Anyway, it was great to meet someone with some local knowledge, and especially, erm, entertaining considering he described himself as "somewhat to the right of Mussolini". It was jolly lucky that there were no lefty pinkos present; you know, the sort that work in BBC news. There may have been some disagreement there.
We heard all kinds of horror stories about Bombay before we arrived. In fact, it's great! Much easier to travel in than Delhi - it seems cleaner, a little less hassly, certainly more westernised (there's no shortage of coffee-bars in the Starbucks mould). And tomorrow, we take the train to paradise: Goa here we come!
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
AHMEDABAD, Gujarat - Mahatma Gandhi: what a top bloke. We visited the Sabamati Ashram today, which is where Gandhiji lived amongst people who subscribed to his principles for life, the satyagrahis. Much of the story of Indian independence evolved from here, where Gandhi, living as an ascetic, gained a saintly status - he made stands against the degradation of "untouchables", he fasted in protest at the many injustices he saw on the subcontinent, he tried to bring religions and peoples together and preach his doctrine of "ahimsa", or non-violence. He also did a lot of weaving.
The ashram is a collection of plain buildings arranged as a village, with Gandhi's house and prayer-space still preserved and venerated by the good smattering of Indians visiting. One chap told me of the importance to India and the world of "ahimsa", but feared that is didn't matter as much to contemporary powermongers as it should. I suppose the nuclear bombs kind of give that one away ... A bust of Gandhi sits meditating on a small knoll amongst the palms, smiling benevolently and emanating his aura of peace.
Ahmedabad is described by a guidebook as "the Manchester of the East". Don't suppose there has ever been a Mancunian who has given the world as much as Gandhiji - unless you count David Beckham's majestic right boot or Noel Gallagher's soulful evocations in song. I think the analogy rather refers to the, erm, picturesque aspect of the city - and also its air. You can pretty much chew it. The billboards here tell us that "Cigarette Smoking is injurious to health". I think you might be better off breathing through one here, to be honest!
The ashram is a collection of plain buildings arranged as a village, with Gandhi's house and prayer-space still preserved and venerated by the good smattering of Indians visiting. One chap told me of the importance to India and the world of "ahimsa", but feared that is didn't matter as much to contemporary powermongers as it should. I suppose the nuclear bombs kind of give that one away ... A bust of Gandhi sits meditating on a small knoll amongst the palms, smiling benevolently and emanating his aura of peace.
Ahmedabad is described by a guidebook as "the Manchester of the East". Don't suppose there has ever been a Mancunian who has given the world as much as Gandhiji - unless you count David Beckham's majestic right boot or Noel Gallagher's soulful evocations in song. I think the analogy rather refers to the, erm, picturesque aspect of the city - and also its air. You can pretty much chew it. The billboards here tell us that "Cigarette Smoking is injurious to health". I think you might be better off breathing through one here, to be honest!
Monday, February 02, 2004
AHMEDABAD, Gujarat - Another day, another state. It's quite a distinct change in complexion to the places in Rajasthan that we've been passing through for the last couple of weeks. This city doesn't exist for tourists; I don't think there are too many here at all, despite the attraction of Gandhi's ashram, which we will be visiting tomorrow. In consequence, the hassle is less and the rickshaws are cheaper! We had an excellent 20 rupee spin from the station in a turbo model whose driver had a mentality to match, weaving in and out of the heavy traffic as if we were in Wacky Races, with a cackling glint in his eye...
Weirdly, the train had been perfectly on time, which was a bit of a shock. We'd got a bus to the station, and, getting off, I had a bit of an unpleasant experience when I had to smartly sidestep, as an old lady, who had found the mountain roads too much, vommed copiously out of the window. Mmmm. On the train itself, punctuality incarnate, we were treated, sitting as we were in cheapo class, to a steady stream of orange sellers, pesky shoe-polishers, some impromptu child folk-dancers (Andrew reckoned James had hired them to distract him during a game of chess) and various wretched souls begging for the odd rupee. We even think we saw a eunuch wafting past at one stage. There's never a dull moment on Indian railways!
Now, Gujarat is a mainly dry state, perhaps something to do with the larger-than-elsewhere Islamic presence, which we have certainly noticed on the streets. Apparently, you need to apply for a permit to drink here! No problem though, especially because we had quite a pleasant night on the Gin & ... Soda (no tonic, so they said) and the beers yesterday, at the Jaipur House Hotel in Mount Abu, the Maharajah's former summer residence, on the hill just above the guest house. We had the best meal, mainly because of the crowd we were with - the Britpack of Jane (hope the 6am bus wasn't too bad ...), Justin & Alice (who had earlier thrashed me at Shithead), and our favourite crocodile-wrestling sheilas from Down Under, Laura and Em. See you in Goa for more of the same, guys: no worries! The whole Mount Abu experience was brill, Shree Ganesh is by far the best place that we've stayed in - very weird to be back on busy choking streets again.
Weirdly, the train had been perfectly on time, which was a bit of a shock. We'd got a bus to the station, and, getting off, I had a bit of an unpleasant experience when I had to smartly sidestep, as an old lady, who had found the mountain roads too much, vommed copiously out of the window. Mmmm. On the train itself, punctuality incarnate, we were treated, sitting as we were in cheapo class, to a steady stream of orange sellers, pesky shoe-polishers, some impromptu child folk-dancers (Andrew reckoned James had hired them to distract him during a game of chess) and various wretched souls begging for the odd rupee. We even think we saw a eunuch wafting past at one stage. There's never a dull moment on Indian railways!
Now, Gujarat is a mainly dry state, perhaps something to do with the larger-than-elsewhere Islamic presence, which we have certainly noticed on the streets. Apparently, you need to apply for a permit to drink here! No problem though, especially because we had quite a pleasant night on the Gin & ... Soda (no tonic, so they said) and the beers yesterday, at the Jaipur House Hotel in Mount Abu, the Maharajah's former summer residence, on the hill just above the guest house. We had the best meal, mainly because of the crowd we were with - the Britpack of Jane (hope the 6am bus wasn't too bad ...), Justin & Alice (who had earlier thrashed me at Shithead), and our favourite crocodile-wrestling sheilas from Down Under, Laura and Em. See you in Goa for more of the same, guys: no worries! The whole Mount Abu experience was brill, Shree Ganesh is by far the best place that we've stayed in - very weird to be back on busy choking streets again.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
MOUNT ABU, Rajasthan - I feel all invigorated! Staying on Mount Abu is all about the fresh clear mountain air, the scrambling up rocky paths, the great outdoors. One of the guys that runs the hostel is called Lalit and he leads walks in the vicinity. We were bright-eyed, bushy tailed and ready for action this morning at 9.30 (honest ...) to go up another mountain with the guy, who hardly breaks a sweat as he charges onward and upward. The view at the top was sensational - the mountainside fell away sharply with snooker-table flat plains beyond, as far as the eye could see. It was good and chilled just to sit up there for a while and hang out, doing nothing in particular.
More hot Jain action this afternoon, as Lalit drove us to the Dilwara Temples. We all squeezed into the back of his open jeep and zoomed along with the wind in our hair. These temples are even older than the ones we visited at Ranakpur - the first was built in 1031! - and the carvings in white marble are unbelievably intricate. There were lots of Indian boy scouts there, and at one point they crowded around me, as if I was a local celebrity, or maybe the 25th enlightened human being that the Jains have been awaiting for the last 2,500 years. Or maybe I just looked funny. Anyway, we had a mini-jamboree, and I shook more hands than your average middle-management deity possesses round here.
The temple was a bit tame though, in our new-found search for high energy pursuits. (You mock - it's true!) We wanted extreme sports, high adrenalin, a pumping white-knuckle ride to cap off our afternoon. So we decided to head down to Nakki Lake - and hire a pedalo! Resisting the tempation to plump for a swan- or hippo-shaped vessel, we zipped away from the jetty in our bog-standard model out into the blue / murky green. The lake is so named because a god supposedly used his nails (the origin of the word 'Nakki') to gouge the lake-bed out of the rock. No thundering deities today though, just a little suspect steering in pure tranquility, Abu's idyllic ridges all around.
We're off to eat in a rather nice hotel up the road tonight that boasts a magnificent vantage point over the whole town. We've met some Aussies (strewth!) who share our penchant for G&T, so we're going to idle away our evening in a ever-increasing haze of contentment. Mmmm. Last night, we ate in town and had our first thali, an all-you-can-eat spectacular consisting of many Indian dishes: a popular way to eat here. There was dal, rice, chapatis, various curries, more rice, more chapatis ... The waiter seemed to display a sadistic glee in wielding his ladle and suggesting that the flagging weakling westerners might like another chapati. Even when the answer was no, one landed on your plate anyway. Communication problems were the theme of the meal - earlier on, James had asked for a pot of tea; the reply forthcoming was "no we have no sausages". As you can tell, his Hindi still isn't great.
Off into Gujarat tomorrow - we're heading for Ahmedabad and I'm expecting a bit of a shock landing up in the big city after our couple of days here. I do miss those exhaust fumes though, think I'll have to get one of those patches... Oh yeah, nearly forgot: I was reading the Sunday Times Of India today, and apparently there's a new film out called "Maqbool", essentially a Bollywood Macbeth set in the Mumbai underworld. I think a trip to the cinema might be in the pipeline!
More hot Jain action this afternoon, as Lalit drove us to the Dilwara Temples. We all squeezed into the back of his open jeep and zoomed along with the wind in our hair. These temples are even older than the ones we visited at Ranakpur - the first was built in 1031! - and the carvings in white marble are unbelievably intricate. There were lots of Indian boy scouts there, and at one point they crowded around me, as if I was a local celebrity, or maybe the 25th enlightened human being that the Jains have been awaiting for the last 2,500 years. Or maybe I just looked funny. Anyway, we had a mini-jamboree, and I shook more hands than your average middle-management deity possesses round here.
The temple was a bit tame though, in our new-found search for high energy pursuits. (You mock - it's true!) We wanted extreme sports, high adrenalin, a pumping white-knuckle ride to cap off our afternoon. So we decided to head down to Nakki Lake - and hire a pedalo! Resisting the tempation to plump for a swan- or hippo-shaped vessel, we zipped away from the jetty in our bog-standard model out into the blue / murky green. The lake is so named because a god supposedly used his nails (the origin of the word 'Nakki') to gouge the lake-bed out of the rock. No thundering deities today though, just a little suspect steering in pure tranquility, Abu's idyllic ridges all around.
We're off to eat in a rather nice hotel up the road tonight that boasts a magnificent vantage point over the whole town. We've met some Aussies (strewth!) who share our penchant for G&T, so we're going to idle away our evening in a ever-increasing haze of contentment. Mmmm. Last night, we ate in town and had our first thali, an all-you-can-eat spectacular consisting of many Indian dishes: a popular way to eat here. There was dal, rice, chapatis, various curries, more rice, more chapatis ... The waiter seemed to display a sadistic glee in wielding his ladle and suggesting that the flagging weakling westerners might like another chapati. Even when the answer was no, one landed on your plate anyway. Communication problems were the theme of the meal - earlier on, James had asked for a pot of tea; the reply forthcoming was "no we have no sausages". As you can tell, his Hindi still isn't great.
Off into Gujarat tomorrow - we're heading for Ahmedabad and I'm expecting a bit of a shock landing up in the big city after our couple of days here. I do miss those exhaust fumes though, think I'll have to get one of those patches... Oh yeah, nearly forgot: I was reading the Sunday Times Of India today, and apparently there's a new film out called "Maqbool", essentially a Bollywood Macbeth set in the Mumbai underworld. I think a trip to the cinema might be in the pipeline!
