31/2 days in Kochi. 7hrs of day one spent recovering 600+ photos from SD cards infected with a feckin computer virus from that last feckin hotel! I fell asleep dreaming of progress bars, error messages and strange thoughts of Trojan horses rolling through my panoramas.
My other days have been a bit more relaxed; wandering along the shoreline watching the locals manoeuvre the chinese fishing nets and the occasional tourist try their might and tangle themselves in it's web of ropes and counter-weights. I've flexed my bargaining muscles on some xmas gifts which once I've figured out the posting procedure should reach folks in time for Easter.
And today I'm just writing, reading and drinking coffee on a balcony. Killing time before my 18hr journey back to Palolem via tuk and train. Oh Yeah! That's gonna be fun!!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
On the road with Ewelina and Geeta.
So I've spent the past 2 weeks working. Feel sorry for me! 4* board and lodging all paid for - what a shitter!
I met Geeta and Ewelina from work at Chennai airport to begin a fortnight of temples, wildlife and beaches. We start off well; our first tour guide aims hard for the title of most annoyingly talkative man in India - no mean feet. For a tour of temples he seems strangely focused on Engineering Colleges and factories. My only amusement comes from the broken and rusting machinery surrounding the crumbling institutes where "the finest engineers are highly educated. The best in the world!" This pride in his country is nice at first but becomes painful in his insistence; "India was the first to master architecture and construction" - regardless of factual accuracy, look around! What went wrong?! "We invented irrigation" - not sure about this one either but again take a look around, each pipe is bunged up or broken and the waterways are full of plastic and human waste. Inventing is one thing, a little bit of maintenance wouldn't go astray. And; "This is the largest Bas-Relief in the world" - It's not I delight in telling him but as with other such remarks I am rebuffed simply by "And over here......"
The next guide is an improvement by more than a short yard, though possibly just as full of shit. We're in Pondicherry, an old French colony now divided into an Indian side and a French side. In India it's business as usual but cross the canal and Bonjour! The signs are in French, the people speak French, the menus have more sandwiches, the waiters have more attitude, there's less rubbish and what there is looks more expensive. Just stick a berray on that elephant and we are there!
Our guide tells us his story of his youthful love forbidden by his beloveds father. Of death-threats, local mafia and fleeing under cover of darkness only to be cast out by his own father also. A father who denied him even on his deathbed, willing the substantial family fortune to his squandering younger brother. Now, he tells a damn good story by my cynical side is mulling it over and thinking; you've been watching a Bollywood movie over breakfast. Regardless, he's kept us entertained and he gets his tip.
We carry on our tour to Tanjor and Madurai where we see more temples which despite labels of 6BC still seem to be under construction. An indistinguishable continuum of guides utter the same spiel about Shiva, Gnesha and the other 298 incarnations of this god or that. No wonder the building is taking so long if there's 300 worship breaks worked into the schedule!
Each guide also tries to shepherd us into "very reasonable Government Emporium, just looking". Despite a couple of initial purchases, the girls soon see that you can get the same thing on the street for a quarter of the price. Still, good places for clean toilets.
We head to Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary for Ewelina's birthday. Not too shabby a place for a celebration -4* hotel with cottage style rooms. Granted it lacked the dancing girls and tequila shots but it did at least have the all important embarrassment factor when all the staff and guests joined together for a rather tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday. At Periyar we also take an Elephant ride (do not sit at the back!), a boat safari )mainly photos of our disinterested faces as the wildlife seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere) and a traditional Kerali dance show. Here we were seated separately (from other tourists as well) at the front like VIPs. Geeta thought thi
s was great. I soon felt otherwise as our positioning made it painfully obvious that I was stifling my laughter.
With Indian pride the narrator boastfully informs us that by using only their facial expressions and dance, the players will portray every emotion known to man and the epic story will unravel itself before our very eyes. Sadly, to me the story they are enacting is a complete mystery despite having the plot badly typed out on a piece of paper. The expressions though keep me smiling. The masterful range from panto axe murderer to inflatable friend with a scale of constipation bridging the two. Now this is Art.
Onwards to the backwaters. Cruising along the coastal lakes of South India in wooden canoes and palm thatched housebo
ats is just cool. Simple as that. At night you get the feeling that you're pioneering on some Empirical expedition. In the morning you see the other 200 houseboats doing the same thing and the illusion is slightly dented. But I don't care. It's still cool and I want to live on a boat.
So to the last hotel of our 2 week tour. Geeta has spent 3 days without stepping foot in a shop and is beginning to get the shakes so is quite happy to be hitting a tourist spot. Ewelina however would turn out not to be so happy. a broken foot can really take the shine off your day! Quite how she managed to fall over on the only flat road in India is a mystery?!? But Hallelujah for the medicinal powers if Ayurveda and the highly qualified doctor at the hotel; "is just a sprain and requires massage madam" - "AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" She nearly pulled off my fingers and screamed so hard I spent 5 minutes looking for the baby! But hey, at least it was the last day.
Saturday 13th we say goodbye. Geeta enjoyed herself, Ewelina's leaving in a wheelchair and I'm off to catch a train to Kochi.
I met Geeta and Ewelina from work at Chennai airport to begin a fortnight of temples, wildlife and beaches. We start off well; our first tour guide aims hard for the title of most annoyingly talkative man in India - no mean feet. For a tour of temples he seems strangely focused on Engineering Colleges and factories. My only amusement comes from the broken and rusting machinery surrounding the crumbling institutes where "the finest engineers are highly educated. The best in the world!" This pride in his country is nice at first but becomes painful in his insistence; "India was the first to master architecture and construction" - regardless of factual accuracy, look around! What went wrong?! "We invented irrigation" - not sure about this one either but again take a look around, each pipe is bunged up or broken and the waterways are full of plastic and human waste. Inventing is one thing, a little bit of maintenance wouldn't go astray. And; "This is the largest Bas-Relief in the world" - It's not I delight in telling him but as with other such remarks I am rebuffed simply by "And over here......"
The next guide is an improvement by more than a short yard, though possibly just as full of shit. We're in Pondicherry, an old French colony now divided into an Indian side and a French side. In India it's business as usual but cross the canal and Bonjour! The signs are in French, the people speak French, the menus have more sandwiches, the waiters have more attitude, there's less rubbish and what there is looks more expensive. Just stick a berray on that elephant and we are there!
Our guide tells us his story of his youthful love forbidden by his beloveds father. Of death-threats, local mafia and fleeing under cover of darkness only to be cast out by his own father also. A father who denied him even on his deathbed, willing the substantial family fortune to his squandering younger brother. Now, he tells a damn good story by my cynical side is mulling it over and thinking; you've been watching a Bollywood movie over breakfast. Regardless, he's kept us entertained and he gets his tip.
We carry on our tour to Tanjor and Madurai where we see more temples which despite labels of 6BC still seem to be under construction. An indistinguishable continuum of guides utter the same spiel about Shiva, Gnesha and the other 298 incarnations of this god or that. No wonder the building is taking so long if there's 300 worship breaks worked into the schedule!
Each guide also tries to shepherd us into "very reasonable Government Emporium, just looking". Despite a couple of initial purchases, the girls soon see that you can get the same thing on the street for a quarter of the price. Still, good places for clean toilets.
We head to Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary for Ewelina's birthday. Not too shabby a place for a celebration -4* hotel with cottage style rooms. Granted it lacked the dancing girls and tequila shots but it did at least have the all important embarrassment factor when all the staff and guests joined together for a rather tuneless rendition of Happy Birthday. At Periyar we also take an Elephant ride (do not sit at the back!), a boat safari )mainly photos of our disinterested faces as the wildlife seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere) and a traditional Kerali dance show. Here we were seated separately (from other tourists as well) at the front like VIPs. Geeta thought thi
s was great. I soon felt otherwise as our positioning made it painfully obvious that I was stifling my laughter.With Indian pride the narrator boastfully informs us that by using only their facial expressions and dance, the players will portray every emotion known to man and the epic story will unravel itself before our very eyes. Sadly, to me the story they are enacting is a complete mystery despite having the plot badly typed out on a piece of paper. The expressions though keep me smiling. The masterful range from panto axe murderer to inflatable friend with a scale of constipation bridging the two. Now this is Art.
Onwards to the backwaters. Cruising along the coastal lakes of South India in wooden canoes and palm thatched housebo
ats is just cool. Simple as that. At night you get the feeling that you're pioneering on some Empirical expedition. In the morning you see the other 200 houseboats doing the same thing and the illusion is slightly dented. But I don't care. It's still cool and I want to live on a boat.So to the last hotel of our 2 week tour. Geeta has spent 3 days without stepping foot in a shop and is beginning to get the shakes so is quite happy to be hitting a tourist spot. Ewelina however would turn out not to be so happy. a broken foot can really take the shine off your day! Quite how she managed to fall over on the only flat road in India is a mystery?!? But Hallelujah for the medicinal powers if Ayurveda and the highly qualified doctor at the hotel; "is just a sprain and requires massage madam" - "AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!" She nearly pulled off my fingers and screamed so hard I spent 5 minutes looking for the baby! But hey, at least it was the last day.
Saturday 13th we say goodbye. Geeta enjoyed herself, Ewelina's leaving in a wheelchair and I'm off to catch a train to Kochi.
The road to Chennai.
It took me 5 days to get from Honey Valley to Chennai. First stop; a Tibetan settlement and Elephant sanctuary. Myself and Des spent the day with an Indian couple who have had an arranged marriage yet weren't too keen on the notion and now plan to get divorced after another 8 months. Despite this they've come on holiday together and seem very much in love. Confusing. I already can't really bend my head round the arranged deal so no big change there. Des offers her advice and wisdom with stories of soul mates, affairs, break-ups, visas and finding yourself. I, at least, am even more confused.
The rest of the journey to Chennai was more notable for the things I didn't do.
In Mysore, after a morning spent running around sorting my phone and bank, I bypassed the famous palace, shunned the temples and ignored the ashrams. Instead I run for the hills - Ooty - another 5hr bus journey. I just love them buses!
In Ooty I do absolutely none of the hiking it is famous for. I'm hemmed in by decidedly Scottish weather with the visibility of pouring milk into your eyes. So off on the mountain train (5hrs) to Mettapalayum. Breaking my onward journey with an overnight stay here is a shitty, shitty idea. Travel Tip: If it's not even mentioned in the Lonely Planet take that as a sign. There was nothing there. It was a bus stop masquerading as a town! Not even a TV in my room - just the wire! AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!
My day is spent e-mailing and reading about the attacks on Mumbai. As you can imagine; not the most reassuring news to read when you're heading to one of the four big Indian cities.
So I board my 10hr train to Chennai and get little time to be concerned as I meet Rob (An older Ozzy fella I'd already met in Ooty) and Arava (an Indian with misplaced illusions of being an American). Arava Keeps us busy with questions about life, death, religion, western values, marriage, war and savoury flavoured snacks. It's only his financing the constant flow of coffee that saves his continuous jumble of unrelated inquiries from hammering me into a coma.
What was I worried about? This is Chennai at 6am on a Friday and i can see that terrorists would have had a hard time doing damage here. It's just been hit by a bloody cyclone! My tuk hydrofoils towards the hostel area and I spend the first hour of the morning selecting a hostel that although partially flooded does at least still have it's windows.
A walk into town ensures the need for a shower after wading knee deep along the main road. Yup, perfect timing for a visit. I am resigned to reading in my room during the downpours of which there are more than a few.
For one dry interval, I decide to venture out for a Chai. Outside I spy the casual gait of an Ozzy gent in a rather hideous shirt and Bermuda shorts combo; Craig! The Ozzy from Goa. After a very unsuccessful visit to the beach, myself, Craig and Michelle take refuge from the deluge in a local bar - as good a place as any to stay dry!
We also check out 'DeathRace' at the local cinema. Now, I'm not saying that the young men of India are sexually repressed to the point of exploding in a mushroom cloud of testosterone and over active eyebrows but each and every time a woman came on screen the theatre erupted like feeding time at the monkey cage. Whoops, whistles and the occasional disturbing groan echoed forward from the back rows. One poor sod, clearly caught up in the moment and not paying attention, continued his whooping as a bare chested Jason Stratham strode across the screen. Promptly ridiculed by his companions and most of the surrounding viewers, I'd imagine he stayed quiet for the remainder of the film.
Saturday 29th was spent blowing a weeks budget on a guitar, reluctantly turning down offers of bit parts in Tamil movies (that would've been a nice addition to the DVD collection) and learning the following;
Attempting a pub crawl in Chennai is a God Damn stupid idea! We end up in 'Cheers'. A club with decor from the 80's, music from all the bad part of the early 90's and absolutely no women! They're not allowed to go out to bars! What is the point?!? What am I to look at!?! There's lots of men; listening to bad techno, watching 'Last Action Hero' with their arms around each other eating cucumbers! My eyebrow raises yet this is not a gay bar. That at least might have some funny cheesy music. No, this is what passes for a nightlife in Chennai and it is the biggest shower of shite. I am relieved when it closes at 11pm. I polish off my bottle of diesel water and head home.
The rest of the journey to Chennai was more notable for the things I didn't do.
In Mysore, after a morning spent running around sorting my phone and bank, I bypassed the famous palace, shunned the temples and ignored the ashrams. Instead I run for the hills - Ooty - another 5hr bus journey. I just love them buses!
In Ooty I do absolutely none of the hiking it is famous for. I'm hemmed in by decidedly Scottish weather with the visibility of pouring milk into your eyes. So off on the mountain train (5hrs) to Mettapalayum. Breaking my onward journey with an overnight stay here is a shitty, shitty idea. Travel Tip: If it's not even mentioned in the Lonely Planet take that as a sign. There was nothing there. It was a bus stop masquerading as a town! Not even a TV in my room - just the wire! AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!
My day is spent e-mailing and reading about the attacks on Mumbai. As you can imagine; not the most reassuring news to read when you're heading to one of the four big Indian cities.
So I board my 10hr train to Chennai and get little time to be concerned as I meet Rob (An older Ozzy fella I'd already met in Ooty) and Arava (an Indian with misplaced illusions of being an American). Arava Keeps us busy with questions about life, death, religion, western values, marriage, war and savoury flavoured snacks. It's only his financing the constant flow of coffee that saves his continuous jumble of unrelated inquiries from hammering me into a coma.
What was I worried about? This is Chennai at 6am on a Friday and i can see that terrorists would have had a hard time doing damage here. It's just been hit by a bloody cyclone! My tuk hydrofoils towards the hostel area and I spend the first hour of the morning selecting a hostel that although partially flooded does at least still have it's windows.
A walk into town ensures the need for a shower after wading knee deep along the main road. Yup, perfect timing for a visit. I am resigned to reading in my room during the downpours of which there are more than a few.
For one dry interval, I decide to venture out for a Chai. Outside I spy the casual gait of an Ozzy gent in a rather hideous shirt and Bermuda shorts combo; Craig! The Ozzy from Goa. After a very unsuccessful visit to the beach, myself, Craig and Michelle take refuge from the deluge in a local bar - as good a place as any to stay dry!
We also check out 'DeathRace' at the local cinema. Now, I'm not saying that the young men of India are sexually repressed to the point of exploding in a mushroom cloud of testosterone and over active eyebrows but each and every time a woman came on screen the theatre erupted like feeding time at the monkey cage. Whoops, whistles and the occasional disturbing groan echoed forward from the back rows. One poor sod, clearly caught up in the moment and not paying attention, continued his whooping as a bare chested Jason Stratham strode across the screen. Promptly ridiculed by his companions and most of the surrounding viewers, I'd imagine he stayed quiet for the remainder of the film.
Saturday 29th was spent blowing a weeks budget on a guitar, reluctantly turning down offers of bit parts in Tamil movies (that would've been a nice addition to the DVD collection) and learning the following;
Attempting a pub crawl in Chennai is a God Damn stupid idea! We end up in 'Cheers'. A club with decor from the 80's, music from all the bad part of the early 90's and absolutely no women! They're not allowed to go out to bars! What is the point?!? What am I to look at!?! There's lots of men; listening to bad techno, watching 'Last Action Hero' with their arms around each other eating cucumbers! My eyebrow raises yet this is not a gay bar. That at least might have some funny cheesy music. No, this is what passes for a nightlife in Chennai and it is the biggest shower of shite. I am relieved when it closes at 11pm. I polish off my bottle of diesel water and head home.
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