Enter India.
Geordie's and my first time in this holy empire of both bliss and chaos (with a slight emphasis on the latter) and it's two years since I last traveled through Asia (see former blog entries about South-East Asia; cK and I made a loop covering Thailand, Cambodia, Laos and Malaysia in early 2013). Leaving Berlin on October 1 we made Mumbai (Bombay) our first stop (an indirect return flight via London with BA was €440).
With a population anywhere between 16 and 20 million, many of these being millionaires and many more helplessly destitute, this is the country's biggest city (with Delhi, Bangalore, Hyderabad and Chennai to follow), hence a fabulous place to start with, we thought. Mumbai (its 'collonial' name Bombay possibly deriving from old Portuguese: bom baim, meaning: 'good little bay') is situated on a peninsula - with its major attractions and historic centre in the far South, making it rather easy to orientate (unlike, say, Bangkok). We opted for couchsurfing and ended up in some Serbian girl's apartment at Colaba market - the taxi ride from the airport took a while, but allowed a good glimpse into the neighbourhoods. It's been hectic, stressful, almost frantic at times - Indian traffic is as aweful as one would expect who has been to e.g. Thailand or Indonesia. Still, India seems even worse since (not only in Mumbai) cars or rickshaws would not just stop for you when attempting to cross - they'd rather hit the gas. Bangkok or Phnom Penh are much more easygoing here. However, the city proved just managable, even if being terribly loud and chaotic. The people are everything from curious, kind and relaxed to pushy, wiry and simply annoying. The food is as sweet as one hopes for; with dosas and samosas being our favorites (savoury cremes and deep-fried pastry triangles filled with spiced veggies).
Among the first quests in town was chasing down new prescription glasses (since I was looking for some quite a while already and here one merely pays a fraction of the price at home); our couchhost's landlady ended up being a willing assistant. The optometrists were a happy and eversmiling bunch and so was I after finding the right pair.
Further mentioning here deserves the famous 'sideways wobble of the head' (which can translate to yes, maybe, I have no idea); you'll encounter this almost frequently in any possible situation - clearly very enjoyable, mostly.
After two days of sightseeing (especially the old Victorian buildings are splendid to watch: the High Court, the University and National Gallery plus former Victoria Terminus, now Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus or CST) we had enough and decided to head down the coast, to Goa.
That trip South was as chaotic as could get and certainly worth your attention, so stay with me. Mumbai's Central train and bus stations are a fair bit away from the Southern districts we hung around, hence we were dependent on a cab - the first driver refused to take us, but there is always someone else willing. After 30 minutes of being stuck in frantic traffic, heavy highway speeding and more honking than we have heard in the entire last 12 months we arrived at the station. Also arrived - just before - had the daily monsoon including rather stunning lightnings. We planned to get dropped at the bus station but our driver didn't care that much, the neighbouring train station must do. A bit afraid of getting soaking wet we asked around for anyone driving us across, but with zero success. Those cab drivers were getting cheekily expensive, so we gave up and - after wrapping our stuff in plastic bags - instead ran through the rain, screaming like kamikaze soldiers. Some minutes later we held the bus tickets to Panaji (Panjim) in our hands, for 600 Rupees each, bus due in 15 minutes. Sweet!
Just for the record: 1€ is around 70Rs and 100Rs buy approximately €1,50. Panaji is the capital of the state of Goa as Mumbai that of Maharasthra.
The bus left at around 8pm and was supposed to arrive in Panaji around 9am. After three hours on the road - Geordie and I both almost asleep - we realized something strange. The GPS in our devices told us we'd be still in Mumbai. It didn't lie: Hardcore traffic jams forced our bus to change highways, so at 11:30pm we not even made no progress, we were even closer to where we started from before the cab ride North.
Nobody in the bus really seemed to care, the overly loud (and clearly pirated) copy of a Bollywood film seized (and soothed) the spirits; I tried hard, but found no sleep (needless to mention the roads are utterly wrecked). Around 2:30am the bus stopped again - not one, but two flat tyres forced it to; after some minutes we found ourselves lying rather oblique, but I also found sleep, after all (while the bus boys did the fixing outside in dark night).
About an hour later I woke up in a sudden - we apparently had to leave the bus, just when I entered the sweetest dream world; the boys couldn't fix it: "After breakdown other bus, all go out!" So we did. That new bus seemed more expensive, but also full technically; however, we did arrange and finally found sleep. Next stop: Maposa in Goa. We woke up, it's been light and someone mentioned "Arambol" - one of the Northern beaches of the state, not quite the capital, but we planned to hit the sea anyway - stumbling out, tired and confused.
Enter Goa.
We quickly figured (thanks, Lonely Planet) that Maposa is the transport hub to the North and - after declining all bold and shamefully expensive taxi offers - caught a local bus to the beach. Arambol sounded sweet in the guidebook, claimed to be "a popular choice for long-stay hippies and travellers, as well as for those looking for somewhere cheap and chilled to rest up for a while". It was and we stayed 2 nights before heading on to Panaji and Old Goa, the new and old capitals of the state.
First thing that struck us in Panaji was its cleanliness and relative relaxation: much less honking than before and plenty of signs indicating rules like "No urinating in public" and "Don't use plastic bags!" - the latter clearly being needed back home where too many people still don't realise the effect of plastic (everyone makes a difference, hey?). Both Mumbai and Goa are supposed to be among most expensive places in South India, so we weren't too surprised to pay 500Rs for an otherwise quite cheap place (in quality).
We then went for a day trip to Old Goa; a short bus ride away and filled with old Portuguese cathedrals, churches and chapels from the 16th to 18th centuries, then apparently known as the "Rome of the East" with a population exceeding that of Lisboa or London. The city was finally abandoned due to heavy outbreaks of cholera and malaria in 1835. If you're into churches: the largest one in Old Goa (Sé de Santa Catarina) is also the largest in Asia (76x55m in size).
After much culture and good eating out in excellent veggie restaurants we were back to the beach again, this time in the South: Palolem it was and - despite being not exactly unspoiled anymore - we had quite a blast. Goan life guards made sure we weren't drowning while wave riding 20m into the ocean, Indian tourists amused with crazed games and the steady wish of a picture with us (confused sun-tanned Westerners). Among the people we met were three Dutchies from Rotterdam, one of 'em just got here from a 7-months-trip through Africa where she caught malaria between Botswana and Namibia. Made us reconsider using more mozzie spray and the net.
Finally we left Goa behind (but not the coast yet) for the third state, Karnataka (its capital being Banguluru, better known still as Bangalore). Further down the tourist trail lies the temple and ashram town of Gokarna and a 10min rickshaw ride away one finds relative tranquility at Om Beach, lacking life guards, beach hawkers (well, almost) and the usual ubiquity of tourist shops selling you anything from fancy hippie dresses, bed-sized linen featuring Ganesha or Shiva to petty little turtle statues (though they're actually quite pretty).
I spent the one day reading at the beach (Jawaharlal Nehru's very recommendable "The Discovery of India") while Geordie hushed away to a Westerners-only ashram in town for some weekly 'ceremony'. Further socialisation followed at night.
Three days ago we went inland for the first time - three local buses and one rickshaw (via Ankola, Hubli and Hospet) brought us all the way to the astonishing ruins of the Vijayanagar Empire near the village of Hampi. We spent every night in a different guest house and finally settled at (not so) Top Secret Riverview, quite a sweet place at the Northern shore. Amazing views atop Achyutaraya Temple were followed by a lovely day cycling around both the Islamic and Royal Centre; most astonishing proved to be Vittala Temple, erected in the early 16th century.
Hampi is one further stop on the tourist trail, indeed, but very rightfully so. The surroundings are absolutely enchanting: lush green rice fields, copper-coloured boulders all around (needless to mention it's the place to do bouldering!) and herds of cattle, goats and sheep. If it wasn't for the steady and very random plastic-burning as well as never-ending rickshaw and alike offers.
However, the sun is shining, the weather is sweet - no rain since Palolem. The monsoon seems finally over. Much love.
No comments:
Post a Comment