Good evening friends of the Intersquid,
How are you? (Really, how are you? Please leave comments!)
Soz (as my one of my smoothie making accomplices Anna Campbell would say) this post is rather delayed, I don't even know where to start!
I think we left off after my arrival in Udaipur?
Well I can tell you, everything about Udaipur was lovely. The hotel (or haveli) was lovely; (hot water + clean sheets = happy Alex). The town was lovely and so were the people, oh and the food? You guessed it, lovely too. It was generally a very relaxing week and Tom got a suit made which to say he is over-joyed about would be a massive understatement.
"This suit is tailored, Alex! Do you understand? TAI-lored".
After being there a week we made lots of new friends, taught a keen little boy how to play "jingle bell" on guitar and Tom hit one on the motor bike ride count. We even managed to hire a car with our very own driver to take us around for the rest of our time in Rajasthan (it ended up costing just a bit more than taking trains and is so much less of a hassle, well it should have been).
So after Udaipur, we were off with our new driver Yunus Khan on the road to Jodhpur with a stop off at a magical fort hidden high on a rocky cliff like something out of 'The Lord of The Rings'. Unfortunately, not long after our car pulled away from Udaipur my memories of the white city began to fade away and their places were filled with new ones involving bed bugs, vomiting and the usual supicious smell of urine.
The car trip to Jodhpur is a bit of a blur, all I can really remember is taking a quick look at the fort, having a spew and stopping at a restaurant where they appeared to place a pot of chicken curry on a hot plate when some foreigners rocked up, only to pull it back off the flame and sit it in a dusty corner when they politely declined and opted for a Seven-Up.
Salmonella anyone?
What I do recall though, was some really interesting village life where gorgeous dirty children waved to us with big white smiles and colourful saris as we hurdled through the countryside like a moving fish bowl.
The drive itself was less white knucked than my previous account and things with Mr Khan seemed to be going okay and even though he spoke much less English than first thought, we exchanged quite a few smiles and nods and he even opened the door when I got out of the car.
When we arrived in Jodhpur we saw yet another impressive fort, this one is set imposingly on a huge red rock (for lack of a better word) over the town. After visiting the sights of Jodhpur we ate some pretty weird noodles at an Indian fast food joint but other than that, the town does not bear too much of a mention.
Feeling pretty forted out we asked Mr Khan to take us to Bikaner so we could experience a bit of Indian desert magic. Unfortunately (haha pun anyone?), Bikaner was where things took a turn for the worst. Yunus began to get lazy... There was no more door opening, a lot more commission talk and he began to fart more regularly.
Mental downgrading of Yunus's tip had begun. He had moved from 2000 INR to 1500 INR.
The most annoying thing was when he started telling us the car could not go to the places we asked, that we probably didn't want to go at all and it became really difficult to get him to even drop us at our guesthouse.Obviously our denial of any of his commission happy stores was starting to take a toll on our relationship.
Tip downgraded to 1000 INR.
Bikaner is a desert town, so most tourists come here to leave on a camel safari. I however, was already aware of the ball-crushing (well, not personally) and bodily pain (yes, personally) that follows only half a day on a camel so we opted just to see the sights of the desert out-post, investigate the town and go to the camel research center instead.
Bikaner has a really strange feeling, it is typically dirty, busy, polluted and filled with people and stray dogs like most Indian towns, but it has a really ominous feeling about it too, at least that's what I felt. The town seemed part forgotten, part behind the times, but also a bit like the government is going to start turning off the power soon, sending people away and use the land for missile research or something.
The camel research center turned out to be a bit of a let down (basically because we didn't get to feed baby camels like it said in the brochure and camel dairy products didn't exactly entice me in for a lassi) but most of all it was a let down because Mr Yunus Khan started to get real, cornering us in the car and demanding 300INR a day for his services, telling us we had paid for the car and not the driver. He proceeded to spin a woeful yarn about how married life is very difficult for him as he is unloved and has to pay for his children - something we wouldn't understand because we don't have children, apparently. I found this particularly annoying and ungrateful because we had been really good to him, only using the car for a few hours a day, letting him off early and the fact he is on a salary from the hotel and spends most of his day waiting for tourists in a car is a whole lot better than most people in India have it.
45 minutes later he was pushing it for 500 INR.
Khan also put Tom in a bad mood for the following days where he started getting really cranky even asking me if "we needed to have a round table discussion" about where I wanted to go for lunch and demonstrating the angry face he would show Khan if he asked for any more money. Anyone who knows Tom would find this hilarious because it is so completely out of character and suffice to say, he apologized almost 2 seconds after the lunch comment.
Another downer of Bikaner was the fact our bed had bed bugs (which I always thought were microscopic, I thought wrong! They look like mini blood thirsty leeches! *insert girl scream here*) but, we did meet some pretty cool people at our guesthouse which lessened the itch.
We have been in Ajmer for the past couple of days which has been quite different to anywhere else we have been.There is not a whole lot to see here (unless a toxic green coloured lake is your interest) but the people, despite speaking very little English, have been so nice and helpful.In fact, we just finished a 15 minute game of charades with 6 men and rickshaw driver (and a bull looking on) regarding our hotel.
"Ohhh Hotel hav-el-ii not hav-ar-li," they laughed in unison when they finally realized what we were talking about.
Stupid Australians.
We also bought two pairs of strange sunglasses from a cranky old man today.They are pretty amazing, clearly circa 1950's and I think one pair has a mild prescription lens but at great price ($3AUD) we both feel like we've just left press conference with Bob Dylan when we step onto the street.
Another interesting thing to note is that Ghandi stayed at the guesthouse we are staying at tonight. I think that is something pretty special and our room is quite basic which makes me think of him wandering around one of the rooms not minding it's simplicity at all.
We are off to Pushkar tomorrow to stay in what is Lonely Planets hotel pick over Christmas, so we are both looking forward to it.
Then we head to Mumbai by train have just booked flights to Goa.
So, here's to some fun times ahead as the last week has been a bit of a downer.
Have a great Christmas and please look after yourselves on the roads and on the turps over the break.
All my love,
Alex.
Ps. Please enjoy all the summer stone fruit and pavlova for me!
Xx
Friday 23 December 2011
Wednesday 14 December 2011
To the graduates
Hello there,
I just wanted to take the time to write a quick note to anyone reading this who has received their HSC results and is feeling a little dissapointed by them.
Let me tell you, it's not the end of the world.
I didn't fail my HSC or anything like that, so I cannot relate in that sense, but I would not have gotten high enough marks to go to the uni I do now if I had applied during year 12.
When I was in year 12, all I wanted to do was own a Kombi and live in a shack near Wategoes.
Now I own a Subaru, live in Brisbane and thankfully, I have given up on the surfer girl dream.
In my family there was never question as to whether you would go to university or not, you just did - please don't get me wrong, this was great, I am so blessed to have had the opportunities I have.
In 2007, I was offered early acceptance to Southern Cross University to study education and because I was too disorganized (nothing has changed) to put in any preferences for universities outside of NSW I missed the cut off date and opportunity to go to another uni.
Disheartened by the fact I had no prospect of leaving Lismore to go to a big sandstone institution, I blindly applied for Arts/Law at Southern Cross as my third preference.
When my HSC marks came out, I was surprised to find SCU had offered me Arts/Law as well.
However, not pinning all my HSC hopes on a uni far away gave me time to realize I didn't want to be a teacher at all and as I watched my friends move to big cities to do degrees they had worked their entire schooling life for, I was left in my hometown knowing all my big city peers were feeling sorry for me.
But you know what?
Arts\Law at SCU turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.
I was given a scholarship by the uni and had an incredibly stress free, low key first year of uni where I got to sit around with some really cool people on a lovely green campus instead of freezing to death in an air-conditioned lecture theater.
I was able to get into the swing of uni with classes more than 20 times smaller than the ones I attend at QUT.
I realized what it was like to be away from school and how different the real world was and how different I was from the girl filling out the QTAC form online in my school uniform.
Not getting my shit together during the HSC allowed me to make some of the best friends at SCU.
I haven't even come close to finding anyone like that in almost 3 years at QUT.
Even though I don't go to SCU now and I feel so lucky to attend QUT - a university that has given me such a positive outlook on the world, it hasn't mattered for a second that I didn't get where I am because of my UAI.
If I had been organized enough to apply for QUT right out of school, I would probably be due for a mid-life crisis and have a teaching degree in hand rather than be on my way to becoming a journalist or a lawyer - which although is taking longer, will be worth it in the end!
So, I want to tell anyone who just got their results; it doesn't matter what they are, if you really want to do something you will find a way of doing it, trust me.
Don't listen to anyone, the HSC (or equivalent) doesn't matter.
Not once since I left school have I been asked what my UAI, QTAR, or whatever it is now was.
Not by my lecturers, not by my peers and I doubt any future employers will care either.
So chin up if you have to stay in your hometown for a year until you get the marks to go to another uni - it sure was great not having any bills for that year I stayed behind.
Love and best wishes to all you graduates,
Al
Xx
I just wanted to take the time to write a quick note to anyone reading this who has received their HSC results and is feeling a little dissapointed by them.
Let me tell you, it's not the end of the world.
I didn't fail my HSC or anything like that, so I cannot relate in that sense, but I would not have gotten high enough marks to go to the uni I do now if I had applied during year 12.
When I was in year 12, all I wanted to do was own a Kombi and live in a shack near Wategoes.
Now I own a Subaru, live in Brisbane and thankfully, I have given up on the surfer girl dream.
In my family there was never question as to whether you would go to university or not, you just did - please don't get me wrong, this was great, I am so blessed to have had the opportunities I have.
In 2007, I was offered early acceptance to Southern Cross University to study education and because I was too disorganized (nothing has changed) to put in any preferences for universities outside of NSW I missed the cut off date and opportunity to go to another uni.
Disheartened by the fact I had no prospect of leaving Lismore to go to a big sandstone institution, I blindly applied for Arts/Law at Southern Cross as my third preference.
When my HSC marks came out, I was surprised to find SCU had offered me Arts/Law as well.
However, not pinning all my HSC hopes on a uni far away gave me time to realize I didn't want to be a teacher at all and as I watched my friends move to big cities to do degrees they had worked their entire schooling life for, I was left in my hometown knowing all my big city peers were feeling sorry for me.
But you know what?
Arts\Law at SCU turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened to me.
I was given a scholarship by the uni and had an incredibly stress free, low key first year of uni where I got to sit around with some really cool people on a lovely green campus instead of freezing to death in an air-conditioned lecture theater.
I was able to get into the swing of uni with classes more than 20 times smaller than the ones I attend at QUT.
I realized what it was like to be away from school and how different the real world was and how different I was from the girl filling out the QTAC form online in my school uniform.
Not getting my shit together during the HSC allowed me to make some of the best friends at SCU.
I haven't even come close to finding anyone like that in almost 3 years at QUT.
Even though I don't go to SCU now and I feel so lucky to attend QUT - a university that has given me such a positive outlook on the world, it hasn't mattered for a second that I didn't get where I am because of my UAI.
If I had been organized enough to apply for QUT right out of school, I would probably be due for a mid-life crisis and have a teaching degree in hand rather than be on my way to becoming a journalist or a lawyer - which although is taking longer, will be worth it in the end!
So, I want to tell anyone who just got their results; it doesn't matter what they are, if you really want to do something you will find a way of doing it, trust me.
Don't listen to anyone, the HSC (or equivalent) doesn't matter.
Not once since I left school have I been asked what my UAI, QTAR, or whatever it is now was.
Not by my lecturers, not by my peers and I doubt any future employers will care either.
So chin up if you have to stay in your hometown for a year until you get the marks to go to another uni - it sure was great not having any bills for that year I stayed behind.
Love and best wishes to all you graduates,
Al
Xx
Monday 12 December 2011
Indian Railways
Good afternoon friends,
I am writing this update from the most relaxing and beautiful city we have visited, Udaipur.
The journey to get here, however, was probably the most grueling yet!
I haven't updated you on Jaipur because we didn't really do anything there as we were both feeling a bit under the weather and poor Tom was horribly sick - probably as a product of my burning desire to buy food off the street or from the suspicious warm lassi's consumed at our hotel on the first evening.
So, to cut a long and disgusting story short, Tom spent Jaipur vomiting and in a sweat.
On our final day in Jaipur, disappointment struck when we realized we had only seen the inside of our dark hotel room and none of the delights of the pink city.
So, we decided to muster up enough strength to go and see Amer Fort.
Unfortunately, even the majestic fort couldn't will us out of illness.
Half way up the stairs to the amazing fort, which stands on a huge hill above Jaipur, we were both feeling a bit dizzy and Tom needed to find a toilet ASAP.
Stumbling down the hill in search of our slick and chatty rickshaw driver Mohammad, we were both ready to go home an prepare for our train journey to Udaipur.
As we made it back to the shady tree where Mohammad had told us to wait for him (this seems rather biblical when I write it now), he was nowhere to be found.
In typical Indian style, five other rickshaw drivers became involved in our search for him, shouting to each other in Hindi before confirming Mohammad had gone to pray (as it was friday) and would be back soon...
One hour, five relentless beggars and two cups of chai later there was no sign of Mohammad.
We even ran into Lala - a rickshaw driver who recognized me (by my teeth apparently) from last time I was in Jaipur.
I have no recollection of Lala and he turned out to be a bit creepy.
At this point, we weren't too concerned by Mohammads tardiness as it was only 3pm and the train wasn't until 10 - plenty of time!
As I casually perused our train ticket, panic struck:
"Tom, doesn't 16:00 mean 4pm?"
Oh no!
When Mohammad returned, he was faced with two babbling westerners and at lightening speed he got us back to the hotel where we threw all our clothes into our bags in what looked like a Looney Tunes fight scene and headed for train station.
As usual, no one could tell us which platform the train was leaving from, where the platform was, or even if the train was on time.
The general answer from the guards or passers-by when I showed them our ticket was "yes madame, 16:00, umm (counts on fingers) 4pm, you are late miss!"
Yes, I can read 24-hour time, but I can't read Hindi or work out which platform I am supposed to be on.
We exchanged a few smiles and nods and with more than four different possibilities of where the train could be leaving from we took a stab at platform two and thankfully we were in the right place with five minutes to spare.
After humming the tune to Indiana Jones and counting how many hours until we would be Udaipur, we were ready to roll.
As usual, Indian Railways had other plans for us.
At 5pm the train still had not arrived, a minor delay, no big deal.
We wandered around for a bit, bought some biscuits, waved to onlookers and told about ten people Ricky Ponting was ALSO our favorite player.
From 6 until 8 we sang Coldplay's entire back catalogue and did star jumps when the cold set in.
The highlight of my evening was finally getting to touch an animal in India.
In case you don't know, there are stray dogs and cats EVERYWHERE in India and anyone who knows me could imagine how difficult it is for me to fight of my urges to pat the street animals in the persuit of not getting rabies.
Anyway, there was a very healthy looking bomb detector dog at the station that apparently, could be patted - here was my chance!
Gregin, the bomb detecting, bindi wearing Labrador enjoyed a good roughing up from me and did various tricks before continuing on his way to detect bombs at the railway station.
I am not sure how effective Gregin actually is at detecting bombs, I think after last night he will be confusing his job of detecting with want for affection or food from foreigners just like me.
Time at Jaipur station continued to pass at snails pace and after the delights of Gregin were long passed and the train had missed its second deadline, 930pm, we were becoming delirious.
It was at this point, when the cricket chat was getting a bit old, we decided the only logical progression to pass the time would be to pretend we were famous actors.
"You haven't heard of Neighbors?"
"Yes, you can have my autograph"
"Indie films, you know? Low budget?"
"We are making a documentary in Udaipur, for the BBC"
"Yes, I know Sachin Kahn, we are going to Mumbai in a few weeks, i'll say hello for you"
A few hours later, we had a ring of passengers around us and apparently quite an extensive film career behind us.
At 10:30 it was time to quit show business, that scene can really age you (ha ha).
At 11, I finally made the commitment to sleep on the floor with the rats and other Indians who had bought blankets and pillows for the wait - they knew Indian Railways are never on time!
The train finally arrived at 2:30AM the next day, only 10 hours late!
Thankfully, Udaipur has been a lovely place to relax after the train ordeal and we have spent our days here wandering the streets and doing some shopping (yay!).
Udaipur has a beautiful lake with a giant Taj hotel right in the middle of it which is very picturesque.
There are lots of forts and other things to see which we will be going to tomorrow with a driver!
Yesterday I bought a nice leather bag and the man at the store even stamped my name into it for me - he nearly died when I joked he had spelt it wrong.
I must dash, I think Tom is getting incredibly bored watching me type this.
Love,
as always,
Al
Xx
I am writing this update from the most relaxing and beautiful city we have visited, Udaipur.
The journey to get here, however, was probably the most grueling yet!
I haven't updated you on Jaipur because we didn't really do anything there as we were both feeling a bit under the weather and poor Tom was horribly sick - probably as a product of my burning desire to buy food off the street or from the suspicious warm lassi's consumed at our hotel on the first evening.
So, to cut a long and disgusting story short, Tom spent Jaipur vomiting and in a sweat.
On our final day in Jaipur, disappointment struck when we realized we had only seen the inside of our dark hotel room and none of the delights of the pink city.
So, we decided to muster up enough strength to go and see Amer Fort.
Unfortunately, even the majestic fort couldn't will us out of illness.
Half way up the stairs to the amazing fort, which stands on a huge hill above Jaipur, we were both feeling a bit dizzy and Tom needed to find a toilet ASAP.
Stumbling down the hill in search of our slick and chatty rickshaw driver Mohammad, we were both ready to go home an prepare for our train journey to Udaipur.
As we made it back to the shady tree where Mohammad had told us to wait for him (this seems rather biblical when I write it now), he was nowhere to be found.
In typical Indian style, five other rickshaw drivers became involved in our search for him, shouting to each other in Hindi before confirming Mohammad had gone to pray (as it was friday) and would be back soon...
One hour, five relentless beggars and two cups of chai later there was no sign of Mohammad.
We even ran into Lala - a rickshaw driver who recognized me (by my teeth apparently) from last time I was in Jaipur.
I have no recollection of Lala and he turned out to be a bit creepy.
At this point, we weren't too concerned by Mohammads tardiness as it was only 3pm and the train wasn't until 10 - plenty of time!
As I casually perused our train ticket, panic struck:
"Tom, doesn't 16:00 mean 4pm?"
Oh no!
When Mohammad returned, he was faced with two babbling westerners and at lightening speed he got us back to the hotel where we threw all our clothes into our bags in what looked like a Looney Tunes fight scene and headed for train station.
As usual, no one could tell us which platform the train was leaving from, where the platform was, or even if the train was on time.
The general answer from the guards or passers-by when I showed them our ticket was "yes madame, 16:00, umm (counts on fingers) 4pm, you are late miss!"
Yes, I can read 24-hour time, but I can't read Hindi or work out which platform I am supposed to be on.
We exchanged a few smiles and nods and with more than four different possibilities of where the train could be leaving from we took a stab at platform two and thankfully we were in the right place with five minutes to spare.
After humming the tune to Indiana Jones and counting how many hours until we would be Udaipur, we were ready to roll.
As usual, Indian Railways had other plans for us.
At 5pm the train still had not arrived, a minor delay, no big deal.
We wandered around for a bit, bought some biscuits, waved to onlookers and told about ten people Ricky Ponting was ALSO our favorite player.
From 6 until 8 we sang Coldplay's entire back catalogue and did star jumps when the cold set in.
The highlight of my evening was finally getting to touch an animal in India.
In case you don't know, there are stray dogs and cats EVERYWHERE in India and anyone who knows me could imagine how difficult it is for me to fight of my urges to pat the street animals in the persuit of not getting rabies.
Anyway, there was a very healthy looking bomb detector dog at the station that apparently, could be patted - here was my chance!
Gregin, the bomb detecting, bindi wearing Labrador enjoyed a good roughing up from me and did various tricks before continuing on his way to detect bombs at the railway station.
I am not sure how effective Gregin actually is at detecting bombs, I think after last night he will be confusing his job of detecting with want for affection or food from foreigners just like me.
Time at Jaipur station continued to pass at snails pace and after the delights of Gregin were long passed and the train had missed its second deadline, 930pm, we were becoming delirious.
It was at this point, when the cricket chat was getting a bit old, we decided the only logical progression to pass the time would be to pretend we were famous actors.
"You haven't heard of Neighbors?"
"Yes, you can have my autograph"
"Indie films, you know? Low budget?"
"We are making a documentary in Udaipur, for the BBC"
"Yes, I know Sachin Kahn, we are going to Mumbai in a few weeks, i'll say hello for you"
A few hours later, we had a ring of passengers around us and apparently quite an extensive film career behind us.
At 10:30 it was time to quit show business, that scene can really age you (ha ha).
At 11, I finally made the commitment to sleep on the floor with the rats and other Indians who had bought blankets and pillows for the wait - they knew Indian Railways are never on time!
The train finally arrived at 2:30AM the next day, only 10 hours late!
Thankfully, Udaipur has been a lovely place to relax after the train ordeal and we have spent our days here wandering the streets and doing some shopping (yay!).
Udaipur has a beautiful lake with a giant Taj hotel right in the middle of it which is very picturesque.
There are lots of forts and other things to see which we will be going to tomorrow with a driver!
Yesterday I bought a nice leather bag and the man at the store even stamped my name into it for me - he nearly died when I joked he had spelt it wrong.
I must dash, I think Tom is getting incredibly bored watching me type this.
Love,
as always,
Al
Xx
Wednesday 7 December 2011
Tickled pink on the road to Jaipur
Hello lovelies,
I am writing to you after a 7 hour car journey (we couldn't get a train ticket) from New Delhi to the dusty city of Jaipur, also known as the pink city!
Although we were interrogated by our driver, Mr Sing, for the first portion of the journey as to why we didn't want a son, why I don't HAVE a son, and why I am still at university - the rest of the drive was rather relaxing in comparison to yesterdays drive to Agra.
Yesterday, I thought I was going to die.
I thought I was going to die a long painful death on the side of an Indian highway, possibly being eaten by rats or crows, unable to call covermore's international help number.
All thanks to Mishra, our driver from yesterday and certified mad man.
Mishra was a certified mad man, even by my tolerance to the standards of Indian driving (which is fairly high).
Mishra didn't wait for anyone or anything on the road to Agra, but he was no king of the road.
Pushing, beeping, shoving and overtaking on bends all at 140km per hour was just an average day for Mishra after smoking some hash at the rest stop he forced us to drink tea at.
To my surprise, at one point on the way back to Delhi I actually dozed off.
I think this may have been a defence mechanism where my body assumed my impending death would less painful if I went to sleep (check Bear Gryllis for factual reference).
Sadly, the nap was short lived, I woke up with a shock to a screeching of breaks and our car on the wrong side of the road, being bared down on by India's version of a semi-trailer.
Thankfully, the Taj Mahal was worth the risk with Mishra, what an architectural feat... and I got some good tourist snappies too.
So, by comparison, todays conversation about my want for offspring was a minor annoyance.
New Delhi, by contrast, was very clean compared to Kolkata and Varanasi and as the countries capital it seems like it is on the way to becoming quite a modern city in the wealthier areas.
As a result, there seemed to be a lot of construction going on everywhere which made the streets a bit of a mine field at times for fear of a falling brick or angle grinder(is this the right tool?) spark in the eye.
We went to a few sights of Delhi with a rickshaw driver, Sanjay, who took us around all day for only $4AUD and even though he seemed to have some kind of conjunctive itis that altered his view, he was a pretty good driver.
We went to the Jama Masjid which is the largest Mosque in India.
It can hold up to 25, 000 people.
To enter, I had to wear what seemed like a typical Australian grandmas shift dress/mumu even though I had made an effort to cover every single part of my skin on a stinking hot day.
I think the yellow night gown ended up just being a means to fleece some more money out of me.
Nevertheless, the mosque was beautiful and I took some photos of some very studious children reading prayers inside.
We also went to various other temples before calling it a day after Sanjay's eye wiping got a bit intense and contagious-looking.
Our hotel in Delhi was amazing, but I won't bore you with the details of the 5 headed shower and anyway, it will make me depressed about my cold bath out of a bucket tonight.
One thing I found really interesting in Delhi was the advertisements for and presence of gated communities.
These suburban cities within the city are targeted of families who want to get away from the "hustle and bustle of New Delhi".
Tucked away from poverty and pollution, they come complete with a locked gate, security guards and names that sound like toilet cleaners, ie "forest glade".
I wonder why Delhi doesn't try harder to clean up the environment, help the homeless people or even make it safer instead of just locking new developments away?
Eep! I have to dash, I have just remembered I locked Tom in the room while I searched for wifi.
He passed out from the headache drugs I gave him and is probably scratching at the door by now!
Will update about Jaipur soon.
Lots of love,
as always,
Al
Xx
I am writing to you after a 7 hour car journey (we couldn't get a train ticket) from New Delhi to the dusty city of Jaipur, also known as the pink city!
Although we were interrogated by our driver, Mr Sing, for the first portion of the journey as to why we didn't want a son, why I don't HAVE a son, and why I am still at university - the rest of the drive was rather relaxing in comparison to yesterdays drive to Agra.
Yesterday, I thought I was going to die.
I thought I was going to die a long painful death on the side of an Indian highway, possibly being eaten by rats or crows, unable to call covermore's international help number.
All thanks to Mishra, our driver from yesterday and certified mad man.
Mishra was a certified mad man, even by my tolerance to the standards of Indian driving (which is fairly high).
Mishra didn't wait for anyone or anything on the road to Agra, but he was no king of the road.
Pushing, beeping, shoving and overtaking on bends all at 140km per hour was just an average day for Mishra after smoking some hash at the rest stop he forced us to drink tea at.
To my surprise, at one point on the way back to Delhi I actually dozed off.
I think this may have been a defence mechanism where my body assumed my impending death would less painful if I went to sleep (check Bear Gryllis for factual reference).
Sadly, the nap was short lived, I woke up with a shock to a screeching of breaks and our car on the wrong side of the road, being bared down on by India's version of a semi-trailer.
Thankfully, the Taj Mahal was worth the risk with Mishra, what an architectural feat... and I got some good tourist snappies too.
So, by comparison, todays conversation about my want for offspring was a minor annoyance.
New Delhi, by contrast, was very clean compared to Kolkata and Varanasi and as the countries capital it seems like it is on the way to becoming quite a modern city in the wealthier areas.
As a result, there seemed to be a lot of construction going on everywhere which made the streets a bit of a mine field at times for fear of a falling brick or angle grinder(is this the right tool?) spark in the eye.
We went to a few sights of Delhi with a rickshaw driver, Sanjay, who took us around all day for only $4AUD and even though he seemed to have some kind of conjunctive itis that altered his view, he was a pretty good driver.
We went to the Jama Masjid which is the largest Mosque in India.
It can hold up to 25, 000 people.
To enter, I had to wear what seemed like a typical Australian grandmas shift dress/mumu even though I had made an effort to cover every single part of my skin on a stinking hot day.
I think the yellow night gown ended up just being a means to fleece some more money out of me.
Nevertheless, the mosque was beautiful and I took some photos of some very studious children reading prayers inside.
We also went to various other temples before calling it a day after Sanjay's eye wiping got a bit intense and contagious-looking.
Our hotel in Delhi was amazing, but I won't bore you with the details of the 5 headed shower and anyway, it will make me depressed about my cold bath out of a bucket tonight.
One thing I found really interesting in Delhi was the advertisements for and presence of gated communities.
These suburban cities within the city are targeted of families who want to get away from the "hustle and bustle of New Delhi".
Tucked away from poverty and pollution, they come complete with a locked gate, security guards and names that sound like toilet cleaners, ie "forest glade".
I wonder why Delhi doesn't try harder to clean up the environment, help the homeless people or even make it safer instead of just locking new developments away?
Eep! I have to dash, I have just remembered I locked Tom in the room while I searched for wifi.
He passed out from the headache drugs I gave him and is probably scratching at the door by now!
Will update about Jaipur soon.
Lots of love,
as always,
Al
Xx
Tuesday 6 December 2011
Sorry it has been so long!
Hello lovely ladies and gents of the blogosphere,
I must begin by apologizing for my delay in posting, it is not because I don't love you dearly!
After already passing through four of my travel destinations in India I am already behind in my updates - but I finally have the chance to sit down and write to you with an internet connection fast enough to load this page.
In fact, I am writing from the most luxurious hotel yet, it even has wifi.
So, I hope you're all doing as well as I am and are ready for a long winded recount of my journey thus far, I hope it is legible enough as I am writing this from my phone so I might break it up into a couple of posts.
GOLD COAST - The golden strip of armed hold-ups.
My trip to India began with an early morning Air Asia flight from the Gold Coast, where we stayed the night before.
Thankfully, we woke up for the 7am flight after an unfortunate glitch where none our three alarms set went off.
I kid you not, it was exactly like the Seinfeld episode where the olympic runner misses the race because he didn't set the hotel alarm properly.
"It was the AM, PM..."
Yes, yes, it was and also some bad luck!
After a mad rush to the airport, the flight seemed like a walk in the park and in 8 short hours we arrived in hot, humid, sticky Kuala Lumpur.
With Tom practicing his "tareee-maharree kas-say" (thank you in Malaysian) over and over in the taxi, we were off to our airport hotel for the evening, in what was to be the first of many hair-raising car journeys.
After a restful night sleep and a breakfast at a buffet more than 8 times the size of our apartment, we were all smiles, tareema kassey and tips for the waiters - little did we know the hotel would end up charging us twice for the room and I would leave half my toiletries behind - say hello to two months without a nail brush, soap and shampoo that actually washes western curly hair!
So, filled with breakfast delights, our coats were shiny, our socks were clean and we were on our way to Kolkata.
KOLKATA - A city of extremes.
To say I didn't arrive, I landed in Kolkata would an understatement.
My introduction to what is renowned as one of India's poorest cities was typically Indian and the car trip from the airport was typically heart breaking.
After a delayed flight from KL, the sight of Kokata's city lights below the plane was a sight for sore eyes, but in a heart stopping diversion at what seemed like five meters before we hit the runway, the plane jolted back up into the sky.
We were forced to wait for what seemed like the longest 10 minuets of my life, to find out whether we had lost an engine on dissent, (which the seat safety guide reassuringly notes, is not a big deal) the captain came over a crackly speaker "um, ah, ello lady and gentle, we have been forced to reject our landing due to animal blocking the runway".
Welcome to Kolkata.
After circling the airport for half an hour we went in for our second dive and as we touched down I prayed to Ganesha I didn't see a cow flying past my window.
Thankfully, no casualties.
I don't think Kolkata airport has had a redecoration since about 1978.
Red velvet and wooden framed mirrors galore.
Also, apparently, there is no need to security check anything at Kolkata airport - bags, people, cows?
Just come on through.
And, on average, 6 people are required to do one job.
As we walked through the exit, we were accosted by very few people, which I was very surprised by.
I had expected to see a sea of hungry children and taxi drivers.
However, I was still pretty happy to see someone holding a piece of paper with "Mr Utting" on it.
We piled into the back of an old navy blue Ambassador and drove to our hotel, turing off the motor to conserve fuel at even the slightest hint of a traffic jam.
That is what I will remember most from Kolkata, the squeal and shudder of all the Ambassador taxis turning on one-by-one as the traffic light changed to green.
Hotel Broadway was like an old colonial boarding house with big hallways and high cellings, it felt like a haven from some kind of impending war, or maybe a really high-class brothel where naked women would be packing heroin.
It also had the feeing of a place where revolutionaries planned their next move, or where poets wrote emotive literature.
For us, ex-brothel or not, it was an $8 per night place to sleep, with a clean bathroom and running water.
I can describe Kolkata in a few words; chaotic, organized, relentless and *beep* LOUD!
My god, was it loud, they say New York is the city that never sleeps, but I think Kolkata comes pretty close.
The traffic seemed to stop only between 3 and 4 every morning and then resumed almost like clockwork at 4:01 with an almighty choir of beeps and screeches
The city itself did not seem threating to me at all.
The more pressing issue was crossing the roads.
Unlike other cities i've visited, Kolkata traffic is an unforgiving a wall of yellow cabs, peppered with pushbikes, rickshaws and motorcycles that waits for no one.
And, because Tom was unwell for the first few days, it was a day to day challenge I had to face, alone.
With some advanced frogger skills and sly trailing of local men, I was crossing roads ... like a boss.
However, having no sense of direction (at all) I found Kolkata VERY confusing and was faced with impending death from road crossing probably more than necessary
The first few days in India were spent trying to organize a mobile phone (which every person who sees my 'le phone' laughs snidely because it is such a cheap piece of shit) and eating at the hotel restaurant because it seemed almost impossible to find anywhere else to eat.
Our daily meals were quite a comical affair as the hotel restaurant seemed to double as the hottest bar in Kolkata by night.
Being one of the only women, let alone western woman I had seen after a week in Kolkata, it was quite the show for the locals when I went down for quiet ale and dahl.
I have found the stares from Indian men really quite funny, because their interest is so obvious.
I have not felt uneasy about the attention at all (maybe because I this is my second time in India), in fact, for the most part, I understand it is purely interest in the different, rather anything sinister or sexual.
After a week in Kolkata, it was time to move on (i'll give you Kolkata-Varanasi train journey post later).
My experience of Kolkata was that of a city that seems to ring you out with its relentless nature, but at the same time makes you want to come back.
It was so difficult to do anything and even the smallest thing took hours, but at the same time, the city has really special quality of old India that I wont forget.
What was so clear to me, was the clash of this old India wrestling with the new.
The new wrestles for signage space, car space, store space, any space to develop a modern Kolkata.
The city is expanding, but it is clear the gap between the middle class and the poor working class is still very large, like elsewhere in India.
There are children being forced into prostitution in Kolkata's red light district, while wealthy Indians order paneer tika masala bugers for breakfast at Park Street Macdonalds in the center of the city.
The psychology of the city seems like it is still 30 years behind the rest of the world, but as the old colonial buildings make room for the neon KFC sign out the front, I hope Kolkata will not leave behind too many casualties as it is thrust into the 21st century.
That's all from Kolkata.
I will post more, tomorrow.
I'm getting sleepy and I need to enjoy my clean sheets before my train journey to Jaipur tomorrow.
Love, as always,
over and out,
Al
Xx
I must begin by apologizing for my delay in posting, it is not because I don't love you dearly!
After already passing through four of my travel destinations in India I am already behind in my updates - but I finally have the chance to sit down and write to you with an internet connection fast enough to load this page.
In fact, I am writing from the most luxurious hotel yet, it even has wifi.
So, I hope you're all doing as well as I am and are ready for a long winded recount of my journey thus far, I hope it is legible enough as I am writing this from my phone so I might break it up into a couple of posts.
GOLD COAST - The golden strip of armed hold-ups.
My trip to India began with an early morning Air Asia flight from the Gold Coast, where we stayed the night before.
Thankfully, we woke up for the 7am flight after an unfortunate glitch where none our three alarms set went off.
I kid you not, it was exactly like the Seinfeld episode where the olympic runner misses the race because he didn't set the hotel alarm properly.
"It was the AM, PM..."
Yes, yes, it was and also some bad luck!
After a mad rush to the airport, the flight seemed like a walk in the park and in 8 short hours we arrived in hot, humid, sticky Kuala Lumpur.
With Tom practicing his "tareee-maharree kas-say" (thank you in Malaysian) over and over in the taxi, we were off to our airport hotel for the evening, in what was to be the first of many hair-raising car journeys.
After a restful night sleep and a breakfast at a buffet more than 8 times the size of our apartment, we were all smiles, tareema kassey and tips for the waiters - little did we know the hotel would end up charging us twice for the room and I would leave half my toiletries behind - say hello to two months without a nail brush, soap and shampoo that actually washes western curly hair!
So, filled with breakfast delights, our coats were shiny, our socks were clean and we were on our way to Kolkata.
KOLKATA - A city of extremes.
To say I didn't arrive, I landed in Kolkata would an understatement.
My introduction to what is renowned as one of India's poorest cities was typically Indian and the car trip from the airport was typically heart breaking.
After a delayed flight from KL, the sight of Kokata's city lights below the plane was a sight for sore eyes, but in a heart stopping diversion at what seemed like five meters before we hit the runway, the plane jolted back up into the sky.
We were forced to wait for what seemed like the longest 10 minuets of my life, to find out whether we had lost an engine on dissent, (which the seat safety guide reassuringly notes, is not a big deal) the captain came over a crackly speaker "um, ah, ello lady and gentle, we have been forced to reject our landing due to animal blocking the runway".
Welcome to Kolkata.
After circling the airport for half an hour we went in for our second dive and as we touched down I prayed to Ganesha I didn't see a cow flying past my window.
Thankfully, no casualties.
I don't think Kolkata airport has had a redecoration since about 1978.
Red velvet and wooden framed mirrors galore.
Also, apparently, there is no need to security check anything at Kolkata airport - bags, people, cows?
Just come on through.
And, on average, 6 people are required to do one job.
As we walked through the exit, we were accosted by very few people, which I was very surprised by.
I had expected to see a sea of hungry children and taxi drivers.
However, I was still pretty happy to see someone holding a piece of paper with "Mr Utting" on it.
We piled into the back of an old navy blue Ambassador and drove to our hotel, turing off the motor to conserve fuel at even the slightest hint of a traffic jam.
That is what I will remember most from Kolkata, the squeal and shudder of all the Ambassador taxis turning on one-by-one as the traffic light changed to green.
Hotel Broadway was like an old colonial boarding house with big hallways and high cellings, it felt like a haven from some kind of impending war, or maybe a really high-class brothel where naked women would be packing heroin.
It also had the feeing of a place where revolutionaries planned their next move, or where poets wrote emotive literature.
For us, ex-brothel or not, it was an $8 per night place to sleep, with a clean bathroom and running water.
I can describe Kolkata in a few words; chaotic, organized, relentless and *beep* LOUD!
My god, was it loud, they say New York is the city that never sleeps, but I think Kolkata comes pretty close.
The traffic seemed to stop only between 3 and 4 every morning and then resumed almost like clockwork at 4:01 with an almighty choir of beeps and screeches
The city itself did not seem threating to me at all.
The more pressing issue was crossing the roads.
Unlike other cities i've visited, Kolkata traffic is an unforgiving a wall of yellow cabs, peppered with pushbikes, rickshaws and motorcycles that waits for no one.
And, because Tom was unwell for the first few days, it was a day to day challenge I had to face, alone.
With some advanced frogger skills and sly trailing of local men, I was crossing roads ... like a boss.
However, having no sense of direction (at all) I found Kolkata VERY confusing and was faced with impending death from road crossing probably more than necessary
The first few days in India were spent trying to organize a mobile phone (which every person who sees my 'le phone' laughs snidely because it is such a cheap piece of shit) and eating at the hotel restaurant because it seemed almost impossible to find anywhere else to eat.
Our daily meals were quite a comical affair as the hotel restaurant seemed to double as the hottest bar in Kolkata by night.
Being one of the only women, let alone western woman I had seen after a week in Kolkata, it was quite the show for the locals when I went down for quiet ale and dahl.
I have found the stares from Indian men really quite funny, because their interest is so obvious.
I have not felt uneasy about the attention at all (maybe because I this is my second time in India), in fact, for the most part, I understand it is purely interest in the different, rather anything sinister or sexual.
After a week in Kolkata, it was time to move on (i'll give you Kolkata-Varanasi train journey post later).
My experience of Kolkata was that of a city that seems to ring you out with its relentless nature, but at the same time makes you want to come back.
It was so difficult to do anything and even the smallest thing took hours, but at the same time, the city has really special quality of old India that I wont forget.
What was so clear to me, was the clash of this old India wrestling with the new.
The new wrestles for signage space, car space, store space, any space to develop a modern Kolkata.
The city is expanding, but it is clear the gap between the middle class and the poor working class is still very large, like elsewhere in India.
There are children being forced into prostitution in Kolkata's red light district, while wealthy Indians order paneer tika masala bugers for breakfast at Park Street Macdonalds in the center of the city.
The psychology of the city seems like it is still 30 years behind the rest of the world, but as the old colonial buildings make room for the neon KFC sign out the front, I hope Kolkata will not leave behind too many casualties as it is thrust into the 21st century.
That's all from Kolkata.
I will post more, tomorrow.
I'm getting sleepy and I need to enjoy my clean sheets before my train journey to Jaipur tomorrow.
Love, as always,
over and out,
Al
Xx
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