Saturday, 10 March 2012
Holi Day: an acceptable reason for morning whiskies
Every good tale begins with whiskey at 10.30am, at least every good yarn worth hearing, and our Holi Day experience began with a nip and a whirl of water under the glow of the desert sun. Actually we'd built up to that. We had first Sherpa-ed our bags from our hotel room to our car, prepped and primed for a bumpy road trip to Jodhpur.
"Are these your bags?" asked our driver Raj, leaning on our answer and sub-sequential decision. "We leave tomorrow - today is Holi Day. Please. Put them back into the room."
With the outcome already settled, we managed just that and returned outside to be greeted by the hotel owner who smeared powder paint across our faces. The idea of the celebration is simple, he explained, it's a coming together of everybody regardless of faith, creed, caste or in differences. For one day a year, there are no enemies, just a wild celebration of colour with drinking and food. That's how we found ourselves slurping meekly on a whiskey and water at 10.30am, faces painted in an array of powder.
The drink had come from the boot of a taxi driver's car. The makeshift bar was serving everyone that gathered in the car park: locals, tourists, other drivers. Golden pakoras emerged from shimmering foils; strong Kingfisher lagers frothed as they fell into cups and into the hands of anyone who would take 'em. Cuddles and colours entwined as Indian drumming had us kicking up the desert dust in dance. Plums, saffrons, blood orange rouges and rosemary greens swam in the breeze as splattered paint powder was daubed onto smiling faces.
A car then arrived to cheers. The owner bounced open the boot to reveal a massive speaker and a Now 67 CD. The Vengaboys, Whigfield and Backstreet Boys whirled on repeat as the sun beat down and local children urged to be hoisted on the shoulders of Westerners. Then at 3pm it all suddenly stopped. The drive-in disco reversed out, the makeshift bar slapped shut and we waddled gingerly to the rooftop of our hotel for fresh Kingfisher and vodka with Fanta. All differences were certainly forgotten as our heads met pillows at 8.30pm.
"Are these your bags?" asked our driver Raj, leaning on our answer and sub-sequential decision. "We leave tomorrow - today is Holi Day. Please. Put them back into the room."
With the outcome already settled, we managed just that and returned outside to be greeted by the hotel owner who smeared powder paint across our faces. The idea of the celebration is simple, he explained, it's a coming together of everybody regardless of faith, creed, caste or in differences. For one day a year, there are no enemies, just a wild celebration of colour with drinking and food. That's how we found ourselves slurping meekly on a whiskey and water at 10.30am, faces painted in an array of powder.
The drink had come from the boot of a taxi driver's car. The makeshift bar was serving everyone that gathered in the car park: locals, tourists, other drivers. Golden pakoras emerged from shimmering foils; strong Kingfisher lagers frothed as they fell into cups and into the hands of anyone who would take 'em. Cuddles and colours entwined as Indian drumming had us kicking up the desert dust in dance. Plums, saffrons, blood orange rouges and rosemary greens swam in the breeze as splattered paint powder was daubed onto smiling faces.
A car then arrived to cheers. The owner bounced open the boot to reveal a massive speaker and a Now 67 CD. The Vengaboys, Whigfield and Backstreet Boys whirled on repeat as the sun beat down and local children urged to be hoisted on the shoulders of Westerners. Then at 3pm it all suddenly stopped. The drive-in disco reversed out, the makeshift bar slapped shut and we waddled gingerly to the rooftop of our hotel for fresh Kingfisher and vodka with Fanta. All differences were certainly forgotten as our heads met pillows at 8.30pm.
A night surrounded by Discos biscuits
On our way from Bikaner to Jaislemer we started winding through roads with pot holes the size of craters on the moon and Raj told us that we were on our way to the camel safari. I was a little nervous as we arrived at a building which was sort of in the middle of nowhere and didn't look much like the desert but we were sat down and told to wait a few moments. After a couple of nervous wees we were taken round to see the camels which were HUGE! Before we got on Raj grabbed the camera and told us to smile which we did through slightly gritted teeth. I made Daniel get on one first (he is the brave boy after all) so he climbed on with his legs either side and his bag hanging at the front and was told to lean back as the camel first straightened out his front legs and then his back and he was up!
It was then my turn and because of my short legs they had to hoist me on which was not very dignified but I managed it and was suddenly up on a camels back high above the ground! Once I was up all my fear went away and I was filled with excitement as well as a little bit of thigh pain! We then proceeded to trek through some sort of sandy ground stopping occasionally at wells to get water for the guides and the camels, Daniel was allowed to ride his himself (show off or lazy guide?) where as I was dragged along by a boy who was not up for a chat! Daniel's camel was called Disco and as it was mating season was turned on by pretty much everything which meant he blew this weird raspberry and a big growth flopped out his mouth every 10 minutes as well as having massive windy pops, charming! Mine was called Babaloo (although we were sure they called him something different earlier) and was much more polite and nice smelling.
After trekking around this area for about an hour with not another camel or human in sight save the one man washing himself at one of the wells we were starting to think they may have taken a wrong turning and wanted our money. That was until we came over a hill and suddenly we were in the proper desert, it was amazing and I felt like Lawrence of Arabia or something! We trotted up and down sand dunes until we met a whole group of people spread across the dunes where we stopped and had to get down. This bit was a bit scary as the camels bump their first half down and then their back but we managed it gracefully (kind of) and then sat down to watch the sunset which was very beautiful and relaxing.
Our return journey took about 20 minutes so they had obviously taken us the long way round before and we came back to camp to watch some traditional music and dance including fire eating (although he definitely cheated by blowing the fire out before it went into his mouth) and have some dinner. We were then asked whether we wanted to stay the night down in one of the huts at the campsite or to sleep under the stars and our answer along with the majority of others in the camp was the stars.
To get back into the desert we were taken by camel drawn carts which had lots of duvets on them but were still decidedly uncomfortable, especially when you are the lucky one stuck right at the back afraid you are going to fall off at any second. We were a bit shocked when after about 20 minutes we were told to get off the cart in a sandy clearing between the dunes. Where was everyone else? Each cart load of people sleep in a different clearing. Ah so here we were just us two and 4 girls (2 Japanese, 1 Chinese & 1 Korean) who knew each other from studying at college in India but seemed not to know about the universal tipping culture in the country. Our guide started throwing off the duvets and helped us make our beds (which we saw in the morning were surrounded by camel poo) and we snuggled down to go to sleep. At 3 or 4am we woke with numb fingers and toes absolutely freezing and from then found it difficult to sleep for the rest of the night. Finally arousing properly when our guide started a fire, the sun came up and then it was back on the cart home. Despite the cold though it was a wonderful, once in a lifetime experience and I miss my lovely camel Babaloo already!
It was then my turn and because of my short legs they had to hoist me on which was not very dignified but I managed it and was suddenly up on a camels back high above the ground! Once I was up all my fear went away and I was filled with excitement as well as a little bit of thigh pain! We then proceeded to trek through some sort of sandy ground stopping occasionally at wells to get water for the guides and the camels, Daniel was allowed to ride his himself (show off or lazy guide?) where as I was dragged along by a boy who was not up for a chat! Daniel's camel was called Disco and as it was mating season was turned on by pretty much everything which meant he blew this weird raspberry and a big growth flopped out his mouth every 10 minutes as well as having massive windy pops, charming! Mine was called Babaloo (although we were sure they called him something different earlier) and was much more polite and nice smelling.
After trekking around this area for about an hour with not another camel or human in sight save the one man washing himself at one of the wells we were starting to think they may have taken a wrong turning and wanted our money. That was until we came over a hill and suddenly we were in the proper desert, it was amazing and I felt like Lawrence of Arabia or something! We trotted up and down sand dunes until we met a whole group of people spread across the dunes where we stopped and had to get down. This bit was a bit scary as the camels bump their first half down and then their back but we managed it gracefully (kind of) and then sat down to watch the sunset which was very beautiful and relaxing.
Our return journey took about 20 minutes so they had obviously taken us the long way round before and we came back to camp to watch some traditional music and dance including fire eating (although he definitely cheated by blowing the fire out before it went into his mouth) and have some dinner. We were then asked whether we wanted to stay the night down in one of the huts at the campsite or to sleep under the stars and our answer along with the majority of others in the camp was the stars.
To get back into the desert we were taken by camel drawn carts which had lots of duvets on them but were still decidedly uncomfortable, especially when you are the lucky one stuck right at the back afraid you are going to fall off at any second. We were a bit shocked when after about 20 minutes we were told to get off the cart in a sandy clearing between the dunes. Where was everyone else? Each cart load of people sleep in a different clearing. Ah so here we were just us two and 4 girls (2 Japanese, 1 Chinese & 1 Korean) who knew each other from studying at college in India but seemed not to know about the universal tipping culture in the country. Our guide started throwing off the duvets and helped us make our beds (which we saw in the morning were surrounded by camel poo) and we snuggled down to go to sleep. At 3 or 4am we woke with numb fingers and toes absolutely freezing and from then found it difficult to sleep for the rest of the night. Finally arousing properly when our guide started a fire, the sun came up and then it was back on the cart home. Despite the cold though it was a wonderful, once in a lifetime experience and I miss my lovely camel Babaloo already!
Monday, 5 March 2012
Daniels Beard Update #1
Currently like a teenagers. A poor effort unless you're still spraying your privates with Lynx after a P.E class.
Rajs Driving School #2
It's fine to go towards oncoming traffic on a motorway as long as you're a cow, camel, motorbike, rickshaw or tractor. No cars or trucks. Okay, cars sometimes. Beep beep.
Professor Dumbs guide to India:The Temple of Rats
Deshnok is in the middle of nowhere. Springing out of the desert, the tale of The Temple of Rats is what keeps this place so popular. The Karni Mata Temple, as it's really known, became a holy Muslim temple after Ms Mata herself asked Yama, god of the dead, to bring her youngest son back to life after he drowned. Yama couldn't do it, but he said he could bring him back to life as a rat along with any of her family that died in the future.
So now there are thousands and thousands of brown rats living inside the temple. Legend has it that if you see a white one you'll be granted spiritual progress. Local stalls sell sugar balls to those entering the temple so they can give them to the rats to eat. It's also thought lucky if you eat the same sugar balls with rats saliva on them.
So now there are thousands and thousands of brown rats living inside the temple. Legend has it that if you see a white one you'll be granted spiritual progress. Local stalls sell sugar balls to those entering the temple so they can give them to the rats to eat. It's also thought lucky if you eat the same sugar balls with rats saliva on them.
Rajs Driving School #1
Overtaking is simple. Just beep at any cars in your way and accelerate towards them, they'll move over. As a demonstration I'll go around this blind corner and over a railway crossing whilst simultaneously overtaking two cars. Beep beep.
Only wild dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. Camels too.
After surviving for two days on Kit Kats (bought at the airport for those comfort-needing moments!) and Pringles we decided that enough was enough and we needed to get out of town. Another night of sending ourselves mad with all the different options we settled on going on the tour we had booked (sort of by accident). Our driver for the next two weeks, Raj, turned up at 9am to save us. Unfortunately I was suffering from the effects of mild to moderate (we Googled it) dehydration and couldn't get out of bed, so we had to put him off for a few hours. Hanging around was just one of the things our faithful guide has had to put up with so far along with great British sayings such as: "If it goes in hot one way Raj, it has to come out hot the other". But he puts up with them very well and is extremely nice and helpful especially with advising us how much to tip different people (we still haven't got the hang of that yet!) and taking us to the clean toilets and nice, cheap restaurants. Think £1 per head.
Anyway, our first day started with a four/five hour drive to Mandawa which was actually more like eight or nine hours but I managed to sleep for half of it so I was alright, Jack! We drove through villages where the women were wearing the most amazing brightly coloured clothes and down potholed roads narrowly avoiding cows and camels and the occasional man squatting at the side. We got there quite late so were taken straight to our hotel which we were taken aback with as it was a beautiful Persian looking building (we thought we would be getting low budget hostels). Inside was just as stunning, as was our room and the strange wailing Punch and Judy show happening in the courtyard just outside! No time to rest yet though as we were taken on a whistle stop tour through the quiet town and shown their painted havelas which are big houses owned by various families of the higher castes that are now abandoned as the owners have moved to the bigger cities where they can make more money. Our tour guide was a happy man called Jack, full of well-practised catch phrases and moves, who informed us he was actually studying to become a doctor but needed the money from this job as it was so expensive to learn. He then took us to the market which was a bit terrifying as it was full of bulls just wandering around and introduced us to some local celebrities: "This man's father built this big beautiful archway but he just likes to sit around drinking beer and whiskey".
Monday 5th March started off with a breakfast that consisted of bananas, very sweet, cold porridge, coffee and white bread toast that tastes worse than Bimbo bread (if you've been to the Balearics before you'll know what I mean!). Then we jumped in the car again with Raj for the four hour drive to Biknar. On the way we encountered lots more camels and our first sighting of an Indian train which blow steam out the top and are faster than I imagined. We also made a stop in what I can only describe as one of my worst nightmares: a temple full of rats. You have to take your shoes off before you go in and they are scurrying around everywhere, drinking milk and being scary. I think it is something to do with a family being reincarnated as rats and if you find a white one or eat some sort of sugary ball covered in rat saliva then you are lucky. I'll let Professor Dumb elaborate on the finer details of this holy shrine in another blog as I was a massive wimp and couldn't stay in there more than five minutes much to the amusement of Raj!
Next stop was a massive and extremely impressive fort which we walked round for hours listening to the audio guide who was an over-the-top Indian man with a very posh British accent. You could go right to the top and it had some awesome views as well as a few too many weapons to look at but all-in-all it was wonderful. We were then taken to a rug factory without much explanation but all became clear once we were inside as the charming and persuasive men started showing us their wares. Their finest quilts sold to famous fashion designers and patterned pashminas made of the wool from a camels neck (the best part apparently). "You can't buy one as it won't fit in your bag? No worries we can FedEx them! Look we have a book full of orders from people all over the world!" I have to say they nearly got me but Daniel was - as ever - the sensible one when frivolous purchases are involved and managed to politely but firmly tell them no we didn't want to buy anything (even if he did have to say it about ten times before they gave up!).
We are now at another ornate hotel with a big comfy bed, mini bar and tea making facilities about to go to dinner. Mustn't get too used to this as tomorrow we will be camel trekking into the desert and staying the night there. I am both terrified and extremely excited as camels are much bigger than I thought...
Anyway, our first day started with a four/five hour drive to Mandawa which was actually more like eight or nine hours but I managed to sleep for half of it so I was alright, Jack! We drove through villages where the women were wearing the most amazing brightly coloured clothes and down potholed roads narrowly avoiding cows and camels and the occasional man squatting at the side. We got there quite late so were taken straight to our hotel which we were taken aback with as it was a beautiful Persian looking building (we thought we would be getting low budget hostels). Inside was just as stunning, as was our room and the strange wailing Punch and Judy show happening in the courtyard just outside! No time to rest yet though as we were taken on a whistle stop tour through the quiet town and shown their painted havelas which are big houses owned by various families of the higher castes that are now abandoned as the owners have moved to the bigger cities where they can make more money. Our tour guide was a happy man called Jack, full of well-practised catch phrases and moves, who informed us he was actually studying to become a doctor but needed the money from this job as it was so expensive to learn. He then took us to the market which was a bit terrifying as it was full of bulls just wandering around and introduced us to some local celebrities: "This man's father built this big beautiful archway but he just likes to sit around drinking beer and whiskey".
Monday 5th March started off with a breakfast that consisted of bananas, very sweet, cold porridge, coffee and white bread toast that tastes worse than Bimbo bread (if you've been to the Balearics before you'll know what I mean!). Then we jumped in the car again with Raj for the four hour drive to Biknar. On the way we encountered lots more camels and our first sighting of an Indian train which blow steam out the top and are faster than I imagined. We also made a stop in what I can only describe as one of my worst nightmares: a temple full of rats. You have to take your shoes off before you go in and they are scurrying around everywhere, drinking milk and being scary. I think it is something to do with a family being reincarnated as rats and if you find a white one or eat some sort of sugary ball covered in rat saliva then you are lucky. I'll let Professor Dumb elaborate on the finer details of this holy shrine in another blog as I was a massive wimp and couldn't stay in there more than five minutes much to the amusement of Raj!
Next stop was a massive and extremely impressive fort which we walked round for hours listening to the audio guide who was an over-the-top Indian man with a very posh British accent. You could go right to the top and it had some awesome views as well as a few too many weapons to look at but all-in-all it was wonderful. We were then taken to a rug factory without much explanation but all became clear once we were inside as the charming and persuasive men started showing us their wares. Their finest quilts sold to famous fashion designers and patterned pashminas made of the wool from a camels neck (the best part apparently). "You can't buy one as it won't fit in your bag? No worries we can FedEx them! Look we have a book full of orders from people all over the world!" I have to say they nearly got me but Daniel was - as ever - the sensible one when frivolous purchases are involved and managed to politely but firmly tell them no we didn't want to buy anything (even if he did have to say it about ten times before they gave up!).
We are now at another ornate hotel with a big comfy bed, mini bar and tea making facilities about to go to dinner. Mustn't get too used to this as tomorrow we will be camel trekking into the desert and staying the night there. I am both terrified and extremely excited as camels are much bigger than I thought...
Delhi: inconvenience regretted
A crush of cars scrum and beep and weave around a junction. Our mini van avoids cows and bicycles and beggars and market stalls, beep beep toot tooting down an ever claustrophobic cacophony of people and noise and dust. It's hot. Hosepipe ban, factor 30 kind of hot. Its sweltering. In the mania, a car's metal shell has never felt as thin. Welcome to Delhi and, as the roadwork signs read here: inconvenience regretted.
The city is an overwhelming and overbearing litany of people and scammers and beggars and drab, dusty pastel colours. With 25 million people living on top of one another, we'd expected some shaken and shoved and the sort but nothing - and nowhere - could have prepared us for Delhi.
The Smyle Inn, our first hostel, is hidden somewhere in the middle of the weaving backstreets. Too narrow for our van, we're now jogging behind our driver who skips past wild dogs and beneath electrical vines that hang from the shrunken accommodation and lines of tiny businesses. We go over shit and stale water. Past an egg massacre from a recent religious festival. Around one corner. Then another. Then finally too many to count. How will we get back again? No time to think - step aside for the rickshaw sir. Mind the dog please.
Then, when the light of day is long gone and our heads are dizzy, we're home.
Our first excursion in the city alone is even more uncomfortable. The bustle of flesh, rickshaws, cyclists and mopeds are bearable, the hustle of numerous unscrupulous scammers much much less so.
Lost?
No. We're going to Conaught Place.
I will help show you the way, I'm going that direction on my way home. Just follow me across here towards the backstreets.
No, we're going another way.
He follows us anyway. For ages.
You want the station?
I know a shortcut, just down this alley.
No, we know where we're going.
He follows us anyway. For ages.
He even rings a friend.
You want train tickets?
No.
Station is closed. You have to buy them from me. Hey where do you think you're going?
Away.
Splash! A water bomb nearly hits us
Splash! A water bomb nearly hits us again In the same place on the way back to the hostel.
We take stock of the situation in our Smyle Inn room and plan our escape from Delhi. The other inconvenience possibly regretted? That as from 1 March 2012 only Indians can buy train tickets online. And it looks like they've bought them all up weeks in advance as well. We need to plan an escape.
The city is an overwhelming and overbearing litany of people and scammers and beggars and drab, dusty pastel colours. With 25 million people living on top of one another, we'd expected some shaken and shoved and the sort but nothing - and nowhere - could have prepared us for Delhi.
The Smyle Inn, our first hostel, is hidden somewhere in the middle of the weaving backstreets. Too narrow for our van, we're now jogging behind our driver who skips past wild dogs and beneath electrical vines that hang from the shrunken accommodation and lines of tiny businesses. We go over shit and stale water. Past an egg massacre from a recent religious festival. Around one corner. Then another. Then finally too many to count. How will we get back again? No time to think - step aside for the rickshaw sir. Mind the dog please.
Then, when the light of day is long gone and our heads are dizzy, we're home.
Our first excursion in the city alone is even more uncomfortable. The bustle of flesh, rickshaws, cyclists and mopeds are bearable, the hustle of numerous unscrupulous scammers much much less so.
Lost?
No. We're going to Conaught Place.
I will help show you the way, I'm going that direction on my way home. Just follow me across here towards the backstreets.
No, we're going another way.
He follows us anyway. For ages.
You want the station?
I know a shortcut, just down this alley.
No, we know where we're going.
He follows us anyway. For ages.
He even rings a friend.
You want train tickets?
No.
Station is closed. You have to buy them from me. Hey where do you think you're going?
Away.
Splash! A water bomb nearly hits us
Splash! A water bomb nearly hits us again In the same place on the way back to the hostel.
We take stock of the situation in our Smyle Inn room and plan our escape from Delhi. The other inconvenience possibly regretted? That as from 1 March 2012 only Indians can buy train tickets online. And it looks like they've bought them all up weeks in advance as well. We need to plan an escape.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)