Bhubaneswar

Ok…before we get too far into this it must be said up front that the lonely planet guide describes this place as only one for the “intrepid” traveller. Some may say that India is for the intrepid traveller. So if this place gets a special mention then god help us for what was to follow.

Our introduction was the usual onslaught by taxis and tuk tuks outside the railway station. We are getting pretty good at this so are well equipped for such chaos and the overcharging attempts. We know well before we get off the train, where our place is, how far away it is and we have an idea of what we should be paying per kilometre.

IMG_0556This joint started with a tuk tuk driver who started at a 500% overcharge and a 200% lie on how far away it was. When caught out in the lie he looked sheepish and came back with a better offer. We then advised him he was a lying swine and that because of that he would not receive one rupee of our money. We found another guy who witnessed this charade and headed for our hotel.

Our place was rated highly for Indians but would not get the same rating by western standards. We were given the flash room. The sheets were filthy, as was the bathroom sink, no toilet paper, no toilet seat, no ass gun (a fantastic invention used widely around these parts), no shower, no soap, no towels, no hot water, footprints on the toilet and to cap it all off a floating turd in the bowl. Sadly it was still better than the joint near the airport in Calcutta.

Went for a 12-15 km hike to find the tourist bureau and a good feed…failed on both counts. Everywhere we passed the kitchen was an outdoor fire using a 44 gallon drum full of brown water for cooking, drinking and washing dishes. Now I am not afraid of street foods but really…there is a limit as to how far even I will go. Got home and negotiated with the owner for a car to take us around to a bunch of sights the next day starting at 10 am.

10 am came and we headed downstairs to find the owner and the driver in discussion over the route and destinations. Paid the agreed upon price and he ran through the list…this differed greatly from last night’s agreement. We fixed that bit and he tells us we will need to pay extra for parking at each spot…ok…he then asks if we want an ac car or a non ac car…ac obviously…500 extra…and it started.

I have been with Jill for over 13 years now and even I have not copped a tirade like this one. She started ripping in to this dodgy lying money grubbing owner like nothing you have ever seen. After 3 minutes the owner rolled over and agreed to everything as per last night…but Jill was venting…I grabbed back the money and called him a lying cheating bastard…but Jill was in the zone. Another minute later the driver scarpered…another minute and the cleaners were bolting…one more and the neighbours were gingerly peeking around the door to see what the commotion was…

By the end the owner was a whimpering mess in the corner saying “yes ma’am I am sorry” over and over. We got in the car and had a lovely day with a great driver having seen temples, caves and the zoo and all for the price that had been negotiated and agreed upon the day earlier. The only other drama was a shonk that tried to get money off Jill as a donation to see the free temple. Jill was on fire…not sure exactly what happened there… By the time I had taken 2 photos the dude was nowhere to be seen and no money had changed hands.

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At the moment we are struggling with the dual nature of India. Most of the people are honest, genuine, caring and a pleasure to be around. However the bad experiences tend to stick in your mind more than the good ones. This country has an abundance of lying, cheating, rip off merchants, and a range of poor rubbish and toilet habits which destroys it for the others.

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On out walk to the tourist office on the first day we walked past a group of kids playing cricket…they packed up the game and ran over to us cheering and yelling just to shake our hands and say hello…15 minutes later a woman who had just bought a meal from a street vendor saw Jill’s white face, hid her meal behind her back and begged for money.

I think that India may be breaking my bride. She has seen the benefits of breaking out the “Angry White Woman” and is doing it with ever increasing regularity. Added to this she has embraced the title of Ma’am and is referring to herself as such even while talking to me and often in the third person. Phrases like “Don’t annoy Ma’am” or “Ma’am is not happy” seem to be more regular and frequent. Lets hope a new location with less shonks brings her back.

Calcutta-Kolkata

IMG_20140128_164603Having had a terrible night in transit here prior to heading to China we were kinda dreading coming back to Kolkata. The hotel near the airport was 100% uninhabitable (this was the ring of urine around the base of the toilet as some were not convinced). Landing at midnight and being unable to check into our hotel until after noon we decided to stay at the airport for another 7 hours yet again. The sun came up and we hopped a cab to the accommodation a little concerned after our first effort.

The journey there took us past some of the filthiest most atrocious slums and poverty I have ever seen. Needless to say we tend not to take photos of such things. We arrived at our very nice guest house and the staff let us into an absolutely great room…early. A sleep got us good again and off we went. Kolkata is simultaneously one of the richest and poorest cities in all of India. The divide between the two is palpable and depending upon which suburb you are in the poverty and filth is entirely in your face or the lavishness of colonial times reign supreme.

We walked through a slum area to find that they were using a bulldozer to clear the trash so that new construction could happen. This resulted in about 500 crows and 20 or so dogs picking through the freshly moved trash for any food morsels that may exist. Added to this there were about 25 Kites (birds of prey) circling and swooping on the dislodged and displaced rats as the bulldozer did its work. Fascinating to watch until we got set upon by beggars and had to move on.

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The British sectors of Calcutta are magnificent. The shops, restaurants and market stalls are good too. There are segments of the city where the is an active effort to keep things clean and tidy which is really encouraging to see. The rest of the place is filthy and dirty and the rubbish bin and toilet for all Indians. We hit the museum, the Victoria memorial, St Paul’s cathedral, the clock tower, South Park cemetery, Eden gardens cricket ground and a bunch of mosques and old buildings etc…

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The metro is efficient and cheap, we came across our first western style shopping mall that would put most westfields to shame as it was so nice. The most fun bit is watching some of the Indians trying to traverse an escalator for what, I had to guess, was for their first time. The modern guys were normal but the old, young and the less educated caused massive backlogs as they freaked getting on…and did not clear the other end causing pile ups and all sorts of dramas.

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The introduction of trams and the man pulled tana rickshaws into the normal traffic chaos added a whole new element of complexity which I am sure Jill will elaborate on in her planes trains section.

Chinese New Year

Having left India we landed in Kunming in China’s south for Chinese New Year. The first thing we noticed was the cleanliness, the streets are 3-4 lanes wide, they are fully paved to the edge where they meet with a footpath, there is no litter and people are not urinating in the streets. I put us in a black list taxi that took us directly where we needed to be with no fuss and for the agreed upon price.

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The hostel was neat clean and slotted us into a bed straight away. This allowed us to sleep off the fact that we had been awake for 44 of the previous 48 hrs (mostly due to the Kolkata hovel). A few hours nap, up for lunch, down for a nap, up for dinner, sleep overnight…the world is good again.

Hit the few tourist things that there was to do in Kunming, lake, pagodas, mosque etc…got photos. The most had conversation was us revelling in how clean China was and the inevitable response of…REALLY…from every westerner that we met. For all of the dirt in China, the spitting, the smog, the fires, the fossil fuels being burnt every 15 feet…it is spotless compared to India.

Our gastronomic enterprises were not deep fried or curried and surprisingly the chilli content was higher. There truly is something to be said for simple food well executed. A dumpling, some noodles with simple sauce, steamed vegetables with a touch of chilli or sauce. We are loving this break from the curries. There is a local delicacy called across the bridge noodles. This is a huge bowl of steaming broth and a range of raw ingredients that you quickly dump in the bowl in whatever proportions you wish, to cook. A few minutes on and tuck in. It is a great meal but a little bland. It benefits greatly from a dollop (or two) of the chilli that is on every Chinese table.

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For those who have not experienced Chinese New year in China then suffice to say it is feral. It goes for weeks and up to a month in some places. We picked a small (ish) town so got the abridged version, but by all accounts Beijing and Shanghai are crazy. The fireworks start very early and finish very late every day. The daytime ones are generally set off by mischievous chefs who run out of the kitchen, stand around like giggling schoolgirls and let off massive bangs…scaring the life out of the waitresses…and then running back to the kitchens giggling madly.

We hooked up with a Brit and a Canadian who speak Chinese and along with a Melbourne girl we all headed out for Chinese New Year’s Eve. Having linguists meant we were not limited in our choice of venue and away we went. After a quite few drinks we left the hostel at 8pm in search of a meal…found a joint and ordered up a storm. We ate, drank, sang, got adopted by the staff…the owner heard we were there and came from his other restaurant to join us…armed with Baijiu (triple distilled rice wine). Anyway…well after 2 am we left after having had fantastic night.

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End of India…phase one

Our last week or so in India has been one of extreme transits and short stays in multiple locations. The end of phase one occurred as Jill really wanted to be in China for Chinese New Year. So from Pondicherry we did a 9.5 hour train trip to get to Bangalore. Bangalore is a big city with all of the usual bits of temples, churches, architecture etc. we had a nice day wandering around parks, gardens, the tipu palace, the lake, all capped off with afternoon beers and a meal at a pub called ‘Plan B’. The Canberra crew will know the significance of this.

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From here we took a 7 hour train ride to Coimbatore which was little more than a transit stop with a meal and a few hours sleep. This flowed on to a 1 hour ride to Metupalaiyam where we met up with the Nilgiri Railway which was a 5 hour train ride through the Nilgiri mountains to the town of Ooty. Now this can best be described as a toy train trip and it was fantastic. The 5 hours are essentially a 50 km climb on a steam powered locomotive using a rack and pin setup to be able to climb the steep sections. The journey goes through the middle of the Nilgiri mountains which greatly resemble Australia’s Blue mountains, west of Sydney. This journey stops frequently to fill the steam engine with water and is utterly charming.

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As an aside I learned from my mother that this is the part of the world where she grew up. I knew she was born in India and knew my grandfather was in the British army and there were some moves. But throughout this journey she has been dropping little family history gems in the random e-mails that pop into my inbox. She apparently grew up in a town called Wellington and was schooled at Coonoor…both of these the little toy train went through. Quite frankly this is the cleanest part of all of India (but will not be for much longer). Despite the locals taking pride in the area…and big signs in the train and all around…the Indian tourists continue to use the world as their own personal garbage bin. (I think I will have to do a sideline rant on the attitudes of the Indians attitude towards cleanliness, hygiene, the toilet and rubbish).

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The entire area up the Nilgiri mountains is fantastic and is one of the nicer parts of the world. Blue mountain views, a steam train, low level clouds intermittently, tea plantations, the lake and people who take pride in the local area all combine to make it a great place to escape to for a few days. The highest peak of the range is Dodddabetta peak which is higher than mount kosciuszko and the surrounding area was the home for a rogue tiger that had killed 12 people and at least one cow in recent times. Sadly about 3 days before we got there they found and killed it. The parks people tried with tranquilliser guns but as the locals were losing money as their shops could not open…(excerpt from newspaper)…On Wednesday, hundreds of them ventured into the forest armed with sickles, logs and iron bars to kill the tiger. Though officials from forest, revenue and police managed to convince them that such adventurism would only hamper the experts’ efforts, the pressure seems to have weighed heavy on the hunting party which shot to kill, not capture, when it was finally spotted in the evening.

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After a night in Ooty we did the reverse journey down the hill on the train followed by an overnight train ride to Chennai which in all was over 17 hours of train commuting. A nap, a meal, a shower, a sleep… then a flight to Calcutta, had a nap and a meal planned but hit the filthiest hotel on the planet near the Kolkata airport so we opted to sit in the airport for 7 hours rather than stay in such filth…then a flight to Kunming in China.

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This hotel was something to behold…we had to cross one of India’s many open sewerage drains along with a seething mud pit just to get into the property…upon arrival I noticed the grey pillow cases and commented to Jill…she turned them over to find that this was the clean side as the other side had drool stains and god knows what else…the sheets were dirty….at this point it was time for a proper inspection of the joint…the one inch yellow ring of baked in urine around the toilet was the clincher…Jill hit rampage mode and all but dragged the manager up by his ear…

He made stupid faces and suggested that it would be better with a new pillowcase…and then it started…those that know Jill well will not need an explanation and those that don’t I’m sure can understand what followed…I even weighed in from time to time when it seemed the process was stalling…but in reality Jill was well in control…needless to say we did not stay, got our money refunded, blacklisted the place through the Indian WOTIF equivalent, listed them on trip advisor as the filthiest hovel on the planet and returned to the airport to sit and wait for 7 hours for an overnight flight to China.

All in all quite therapeutic.

Pondicherry…

Having hit the bottom we started our journey north. The first port of call was Pondicherry which is simultaneously both the best and worst Indian city that we have been in. Unlike most of the places this joint was colonised by the French rather than the Brits. The French know how to develop a city…especially a seaside esplanade…wide streets, tree lined avenues and fantastic architecture. It is a calm and relaxing place to be…at 6pm each night they ban all motor traffic from the esplanade and the next 3 parallel streets and it turns into a pedestrian paradise. Add to this that it is about 8 degrees cooler than the south with a brilliant sea breeze that makes it a cool and wonderful place to spend time.IMG_20140118_111555

Further to the city the French influence continues strongly up to today. This translates to awesome bakeries, cafés, restaurants, real cheese and real coffee. China had no cheese at all and India has paneer or crappy singles slices wrapped in plastic…cheese is heaven…Brie, blue, Edam and many more…combine this with fresh baguettes and an almond croissant or two and this place rocks. The restaurants are a mix of Indian, French, Italian and the ‘odds and sods’ ones that you generally find around the place. A standout is the steak that pops up on the odd menu or two.

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As I mentioned this place is both the best and worst…as no cars are allowed into the last 3 streets before the beach the tuk tuk drivers stalk the third street waiting fo ramblers to finish their afternoon/evening walk. As they wait nature inevitably calls…being India…it leaves when it has to…our hotel was on the third street in and at no time did we leave or enter the hotel without seeing at least two people peeing in the stagnant gutters. Needless to say this has an effect upon the aroma of the area.

Now let’s not be silly here…we have been in India since late November so we are no stranger to the open drains and the smells but this place adds a new dimension. Jill was amused that they called one of the open drains the Rue de Petite Canal. Sadly there is the Grand Canal that runs through the middle of the joint. I titled this Rue de Poopoo. It was disgusting, every time I walked past it I was involuntarily dry retching and Jill was not a lot better. There was a heap of local restaurants along the street of the Rue de Poopoo which we did not go near.

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The French quarter of town is the bit right by the water (in the 3 block zone and away from Rue de Poopoo) and is known as white town. In here there are any number of great restaurants and the odd juice bar (Kerala style). In all Pondicherry is great if you can keep away from Le Canal O’Crap.

The Deep South

Having prised ourselves off the houseboat we continued our journey south to Thiruvananthapuram (also known as Trivendrum). We checked into the best ranked home stay on trip advisor. It was great…we arrived in the heat of the day, hot, sweaty and a little dehydrated. Were met by the owner who took us through our room and then we settled with the other guests…in the sitting room, in the breeze, under the fans with a cool beverage. We felt very colonial. The gang staying there was lovely and we chatted, shared stories and (headed out with Simon and Ann a Brit couple riding bicycles around India) shared meals.

We headed off the next morning to the zoo which was surprisingly much better than I imagined. They were largely in open pens and in good condition. The exception to this was the big cats that were jammed into cages with concrete floors. It seemed as though there was a fair bit of construction going on so hopefully they are working to address the cage situation…one open style pen was finished and housed the lions. The up side to this was that we arrived at feeding time so got to experience lions, tigers and cheetahs crunching fresh chicken carcasses. The sounds made as their powerful jaws splintered the bones of the chickens was something to behold. the other standout to this was the exceptional hedge art that was on display at the entrance.

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As per previous posts…it is hot here. We arrived at the zoo at 9am and hung around until about 11 and wandered out. Now the zoo was a leisurely stroll, largely in the shade and with a light breeze. By the time I had walked out there was not one dry section left on my shirt. I had a moist bandana to cool me off but in the shade and the breeze I still managed to sweat my way through a shirt in under 2 hours. So much so I stopped on the side of the road, bought a new shirt, stripped off and changed while a bunch of Indians stared at my Canberra tan.

The next journey that we had was the hunt for the Manjadikuru seeds. Now my family know these well as they are the seed pods with the carved elephants in them. For the rest of you the Manjadikuru seed is hollowed out and filled with small carved bone in the shape of elephants. The seed itself is about the size of a pea…it has a carved elephant shaped cap and inside is a number of elephants. The number and quality of elephants depends entirely upon when you bought the seed. If it was bought in the last few years there are 4 elephants of poor quality, a few years before that you could get 12 of better quality within a single seed. I grew up with one purchased by my grandparents that had 100 carved elephants of excellent quality within (I believe my mother still has this in a jewellery box somewhere). Due to generations of busted eyes these are no longer available as the carvers have been banned from doing such fine work.

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The next stop was to Kanyakumari which is the southernmost tip of India. As you stand on the point you look out over the Vivekananda Rock Memorial and Thiruvalluvar Statue which dominate the southern tip however the key thing is the intersection of the three water bodies. The Bay of Bengal to the east, laccadive sea to the south and the Arabian Sea to the west.

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The hotel that we stayed at was perfectly located, although a little bizarre. The urinal cakes in the shower drain and the cartoon mural on the bathroom door (of Japanese anime characters) were a touch odd. That evening we headed to the rooftop to watch the sun set over the Arabian Sea…the next morning we were on the same rooftop to watch it rise over the Bay of Bengal. This is a pretty nice concept any way you look at it.

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For the facebookers amongst you this has been seen. For the others this cute little fella was what turned up when I ordered a Kebab from a Kanyakumari restaurant. The image does not do it justice so I will break it down for you. The base is a mix of capsicum, cabbage, pineapple carrot, a lemon wedge, onion, cucumber and tomato. Our little friend is a curried chicken kebab (off the stick) covered in an unsweetened meringue (fluffy texture) underneath a tube of spun sugar. The eyes were grapes. This was wrong on every level.

Cochin and Alleppey

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We found a few little tourist things in Fort Cochin (not an actual fort just a suburb) and some bars and restaurants. The Chinese fishing nets were interesting and there were a series of churches etc. It is still hot here and we were hiking in the heat of the day towards the basilica. Now having grown up with private schools I have been to my fair share of religious institutions and know that in terms of rankings they go: chapel, church, cathedral, basilica. Having climbed St Peters basilica in Rome, I had an idea of what to expect…oh was I wrong.

Clearly the rankings do not count here in India. After hiking like idiots in the heat we arrived at the basilica which was smaller than and about as impressive as a local scout hall in a small country town. Needless to say I had an opinion, as sweat poured down my beleaguered brow standing outside the footy dressing shed that was the basilica. While walking away we passed about 6 more churches…all of which were significantly better than the basilica.

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The choice for lunch was written up in the lonely planet as the pick and was called the Dal Roti. It’s good write up was well earned and well deserved. We were introduced to a new thing which was the “Kati Roll”. This was in essence a kebab (the type that you drunkenly order at 3am on your way home) made with buttery Indian bread rather than the normal burrito/lavash style bread…and it was magnificent. I had the chicken, Jill had the curried prawns and we shared. A table of yank girls, at the next table, were expertly guided through the menu by the very personable and helpful owner and all the food that appeared looked sensational and seemed to be fully appreciated.

The main reason for heading down here was the fact that Jill had booked a houseboat to cruise the Kerala backwaters for three days before heading for the southernmost tip of India (Kanyakumari) via Thiruvananthapuram. The houseboat was a thing we saw while watching the pilots guide to India and we thought it was a must do. It involves the two of us and three staff with all the food and drink (non alcoholic) that you can handle. It also involved stops through the day to buy essentials like beer and fresh seafood.

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You jump off the boat with chef in tow and select live prawns and crabs while asking him what he could do with that…if he suggested something good you bought it…if not you made him either come up with a better option or walked away from the prawns etc.. We walked away from the first one as they were asking more for their prawns (per kilo) than you would pay for top Aussie tiger prawns. As we were about to leave the captain said we could get beer here too…so I ordered the 3 cold ones that they had (Bavarian beer) only to find that they were non alcoholic beer. Upon noticing this we returned them quickly and drove the boat away.

Kerala is clearly the rice bowl of India with each side of the River spilling out into mammoth rice paddies for hectare after hectare. The land level is lower than the River and at the appropriate times they open gates and flood the fields. All transport around the region is by water, with the exception of a 4 foot wide gravel path along the bank. This has seen the accumulation of many new photos for addition to Jill’s planes, trains section of the blog. Particularly as brick barge, construction canoe, de-weeding dredge, farmer’s flock, fishing fleet, grocer’s galleon, holidayer’s houseboats, kelp ketch, laundry launch, and school sloop (see what I did there with the alliteration…it is in alphabetic order too… And some of you think I just spew forth random garbage…a lot of work goes into these ramblings) all compete for the same stretch of water. (Now be honest…how many of you went back to check if my alphabetising was correct).

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Possibly the greatest thing that we saw in our three days of lazing was the trip past the duck farm. A solitary man in a dug out canoe was herding a flock of baby ducks as they swam up the River. We were heading in the opposite direction as we ploughed towards this mass of organised quackery. To give perspective to this, the flock was swimming about 20 ducks abreast to form a 2-4 meter wide strip. This was repeated row after row forming a ribbon of ducklings that stretched over 70 meters long and 3 meters wide and meandered its way upstream. All of this controlled by alone man in a canoe at the back, slapping his paddle on the water. I have no idea of how many ducklings there were, but it was many thousands.

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Mangalore

Once again there is not too much tourism-wise to be seen here but from a culinary perspective this place is heaven. Mangalore is one of the main southern port cities on the Indian west coast on the Arabian Sea. It is a seaside city and is far from the dirt and filth of the north and as such the waters are clean and the seafood is good. It is one of the few places where non-vegetarian is common and the options available for us carnivores are spectacular.

It is still incredibly hot with mid 30’s temperatures daily but we are in a nice air conditioned room and we can time our excursions to miss the heat of the day. Rajasthan in the north was full of tourist sites like palaces and forts etc however the south seems to be more of an unspoiled natural place. The skies are clearer, the air is beautifully breathable, the water is cleaner, the streets are neat and everything just seems better…except there is nothing really touristy to see.

Our first foray into the food of mangalore was the Lalith bar and restaurant where we had a great lunch of pomfret (a local fish) and a ghee roast chicken. I am not exactly sure that this fits within my post heart attack diet but it was magnificent.

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We got back to our hotel where we have a restaurant that specialises in Kebabs. It is essentially a buffet however in addition, each table has a hole in the centre which they fill with a square box filled with coals upon which all sorts of goodies are placed and grilled. Needless to say I picked the non-veg option and we feasted upon prawns, mutton, fish, chicken…all washed down with kingfisher beer. The buffet had a range of options to be grazed upon and the meat on a stick man kept turning up asking which go the above list we wanted more of. While I am a huge thali fan… I remain a carnivore and charred meat on a stick is the best.

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Another restaurant that we have in our hotel is the seafood one. This serves a lunchtime thali we discussed this and Jill chose the crab and I chose the prawn thali and we were to share. Until….We found something better…We headed to the Gajalee seafood restaurant high on the hill in mangalore. It is safe to say that by Indian standards that this place is expensive. By Australian standards however…our first point of order, after swilling half of an incredibly cold beer (did I mention it is hot here), was to head to the row boat at the front of the restaurant to choose which of the live crabs that we intended to eat. I asked the type of crab and was told it was a rock crab however it looked like one of Australia’s best muddies.

Crab chosen it was down to examining the menu proper. I must mention the crab was not compulsory…but it was for us. You could order any type of meat, fish or veg dish that you would like. We chose the garlic/pepper crab and accompanied it with chilli prawns with some naan and a roti and we were in bliss. To date mangalore has had the best range and quality of food since hitting India. Each region has its specialty but mangalore seems to do it all.

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Goa

I don’t know what country we are in but we have certainly left India entirely. This is the beach holiday destination for India and quite frankly it is like entering an totally different world. There is nothing to see here other than beaches and other tourists. The state of Goa is exempt from taxes and therefore everything is cheap. Despite this it is the richest region in India with average wages 2.5 times higher than elsewhere and the infrastructure like roads and bridges etc are far better than anywhere we have been so far. I don’t know how this is achieved but it is working. We hit the most bizarre bridge experience on our way to our accommodation but I will leave it for Jill in her planes trains section.

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It is hot. We are here in winter and it is seriously hot and it will continue to get hotter as we head south. At the moment it is only possible to walk for about 15 minutes before being soaked in sweat and seeking a shady respite. The daily highs are well into the mid 30’s and it is winter. I have no idea what or how bad the  summer gets but the winter is more than enough for my Canberra acclimatised bones.

Goa stretches for 100 kilometres but in reality it is a few big towns and a series of pockets of businesses spread across the region. Every 2 kilometres or so you pop up onto a different pocket which generally contain about 3-6 hotels/hostels, 6 bars and 5 restaurants along with 3 motorbike hire joints and 12 tourist stalls. This is added to every third pocket or so with a “juice bar” which are the busiest businesses in town. They openly advertise as juice and more. The bikes are a choice of scooters or some beautiful classically styled Enfield motorcycles (just for KAT).

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Goa is fantastic if you can handle it and embrace it for what it offers, without buying in and checking out. The place is full of people who entered a juice bar and are still here 2-40 years later. Old hippies abound and the younger generation is full of Jonny Depp wannabes who got their first taste of hash, checked out, and are still here 5 years on. The most common activity is to drink and get baked every night and then to zone out on the beach, sleeping it off, in the afternoons. This would be ok if everyone had not hired scooters or motorbikes to get between the various pockets and were riding either stoned or drunk.

That said, if you can handle the atmosphere and not buy into the hippie garbage the place is great. The pockets are set amidst green leafy hillsides, each one being a short walk to the beach. The beaches are as clean as India can offer, and most of us would be willing to enter the water, while still having the uniquely Indian traits (cows between the flags). If you were bored of laying on the beach I am certain that you could find a 3 day old frisbee (they are a bit moist if you get them any earlier). The food is cheap and diverse, with an effort needing to be made to find a curry. The beer is VERY cheap and plentiful and the hotels are clean and cheap. There are top of the line options but they tend to be fake, expensive and full of Russians. In a land of bikinis and sarongs, the Russians pack the little black dress and stripper heels.

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Jill and I were discussing this place and came to the conclusion that there are certain people in our lives that would absolutely love it and would know the balance to keep, while there are others that we know who if they turned up here we may never see them again. I will not name names but will allow each of you to determine your likely path. For those of you able to cope it would be a great joint holiday destination whereby about 10 people all turn up to the same area and have joint but separate holidays. However if you were in any way impressionable there is a real possibility that you could find yourself in a bar, a decade on, with dreadlocks, fewer brain cells and no real idea of how you got here.

Mumbai / Bombay

Was kinda dreading this one after the New Delhi experience…our first foray back into the big city. My fears were totally unfounded and Mumbai is a delight. There are sights everywhere you look. The architecture is amazing and according to wiki blends Gothic, Victorian, Art Deco, Indo-Saracenic and contemporary architectural styles. Not really sure what all this means being an artistic heathen but every time you turn around another amazing looking building appears.

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We did the wander on a Sunday when everything was shut and everyone had the day off. This had the nett effect of clearing every automobile and other form of transport (see Jill’s planes, trains and automobiles section) off the roads so that you could walk along normally manic streets in relative peace. Combine with this the fact that all the side streets became makeshift cricket pitches meant that nobody was driving anywhere and the entire city became a giant series of cricket games. The cars that were out and about were immaculate classic vehicles to be admired and envied even if you a not a car enthusiast.

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Mumbai is very expensive compared to everywhere else we have been so far but it is also a lot cleaner and with less cows. We did the wander again not on a Sunday and got hit with the normal state that is Mumbai. That state is hectic. We ambled along the Back Bay which is the inlet between Mumbai and the Arabian Sea, taking you past places like Nariman Point and Chowpatty Beach. A little further around the point is the suburb of Colaba which is an area that is home to the famous Gateway of India and the iconic Taj Mahal hotel and the launching point for the Elephanta Caves where we spent New Year’s Day.

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Chowpatty beach is the 200 meter stretch of sand that the Indian authorities actually clean. The remaining 5 km stretch along the waterfront was polluted and toxic and even on a 30+ degree day there was almost nobody within 30 meters of the actual water. From here we headed over to the Dhobi Ghat which is the laundromat of Bombay. It is basically a bunch of open air concrete tubs where thousands upon thousands of people beat, bash and scrape the laundry of an entire city clean. Having seen this we decided to wait until our next stop for a laundry run.

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We had headed to the Gateway of India on the 31st of December but it was feral with tourists both domestic and foreign. We decided to try again early the next day (first ferry to Elephanta Island at 9am) which was the greatest idea we have had. The morning run was quiet, calm and we actually were up before most of the touts etc.. We checked out the caves and returned at about 2pm to find all hell breaking loose. As we were leaving an almost full boat was waiting for the last few people to load before departure. It was pretty full and we were in no hurry so decided to wait for the next boat…while we were waiting an arrival boat turned up and was about to depart empty…I gestured…he nodded…and we got on…leaving the full boat on the dock and us having the whole boat to ourselves.

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After the one hour cruise we were waiting to dock we watched the local tourists load the earlier boat…this involved people (literally) launching themselves from the dock onto the boat to be one of the first aboard to get a seat. Once full the boat kept loading with people pushing and shoving so that the entire vessel looked like a sardine tin. We watched on in awe…laughing…but knowing that we were next.

Our turn. The boat pulled in and the dock was jammed with hundreds of people all needing to be on our boat. I took position and launched prior to a full docking as I knew what was coming. Jill who was right on my hip got caught in the counter launch…and the next thing I heard was my darling bride screaming “back off”. I turned to see her stuck on the entrance to the boat as Indians tried to trample her while attempting to board. I was about to come to the rescue only to find the bride holding her own, punching and pushing back the surging crowd with a face and a tone of voice usually only reserved for me (husbands you know what I mean). The sea of people parted and she calmly stepped off.

The other magic thing that Mumbai did was to introduce us to Thali. For the uninitiated this is a tray with about 9 dishes on it for a fixed price. They will continue to fill everything until you say stop. This includes the rice the breads and all of the elements…We have decided that we like Thali…

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Travelling the world in a pre and post COVID state