Agra

Like a lot of the other entries in the blog, we're usually starting with our mode of transport, so I'm going to continue in that vein, the only difference being this time round is that it was the worst journey so far, for one simple reason.

We caught the overnight sleeper train from Varanasi Junction to Agra Fort, and the pungent stench of urine in our carriage was actually quite unbelievable. On a scale of 1 to 10 on an Allison and Tom scale of previous urine smell experiences , this was off the chart.

A not too happy Allison on her bunk

You know in England you get that urine smell in public toilets, especially in the gents for some reason, not that I wander off into the ladies for a casual sniff, I just know their toilets don't smell as bad as ours. Anyway that public gents urinal smell is like a bed of roses compared to this. It was nauseating, even headache inducing, and we had to remain with this smell for over 12 hours, 2 extra bonus hours were added because the train ran fashionably late. So a hardy 14 hour piss smelling journey was undertaken to reach Agra Fort. Not only that but the guy in the bunk above me was doing the smelliest farts ever, ones that if I was doing them I would have been incredibly proud of myself, but to be breathing in someone else's gases combined with the pee in an enclosed space on a train is horrible!

On arrival we were picked up by a cab and taken to our homestay. 

Time to rest my weary hands and let Allison tell you about the rest of our stay in Agra.

We arrived at our homestay, showered, changed and had breakfast. We decided that we were going to have a complete sightseeing day as we were leaving in the morning. Our taxi arrived at 10am and we were off to see one of the seven wonders of the world, something I had always dreamt of seeing.

We were dropped off at the west gate, and made our way down to the payment area. Indians 20 rupees; Foreigners 750 rupees  (but that included a bottle of water and shoe covers)!

After paying, collecting shoe covers and water, we were approached by an Indian man who informed us of his knowledge of the Taj Mahal and had been a guide there for 10 years; he initially quoted a price of 975 rupees for one hour and eventually down to 500.  I further persuaded him to make it 400, which we shook on.

We walked through the grounds and through a small entrance way, where you could see a small part of the structure but when we stepped through the main gate and saw the Taj Mahal in full view - it was absolutely breathtaking - it was so overwhelming to see something that you normally see in pictures, right there in front of you. It was incredible. It's funny because I couldn't even speak whilst looking at this magnificent white structure that took 22 years to build.

I also felt quite sad in some respects but also happy, knowing that it was only a few years ago that my mum was here, and felt a connection to her,  perhaps because of what she may have had experienced here too - which brought warmth to my heart.

We wandered around with our guide who was happily explaining the history of this monument whilst getting him to take pictures of us together (another benefit of having a guide) and absorbing all the information.  Tom as per usual having a very short concentration span kept drifting off from what he was saying  and returning to the conversation a few minutes later.   When our guide finished his guiding duty, we paid him the original rate that he asked of 500 rupees and told him that we wanted to wander around at our leisure.

After circling the building, we took the stairs into the garden area, found a bench and sat just staring at the Taj Mahal.  I could have sat there all day just looking at it - I still cannot believe how amazing it actually is! But after around half an hour we made our way out of the garden taking several pictures en route and exited the grounds - next stop Agra Fort.

Unfortunately we did not know much about the history of Agra fort and opted out for a guide this time, but nevertheless it was interesting and beautiful to wander around... I tested my panoramic lens on my phone.......Not bad eh?!!! 

After the Fort we headed to the baby Taj Mahal - which was built in the 1620's.  This structure is a large tomb which has the symmetry of the Taj Mahal but a with very different look on a much smaller scale.  Inside it contains various tombs from history way back......

Baby Taj (Itmad-ud-Daula)

Our day was almost ending in Agra, but last on the agenda was a trip across the river to a quiet  spot where  we could watch the sunset behind the magnificent Taj. However, not so quiet as we were getting pestered by little kids either wanting chocolate or pens! We gave one kid a pen who ran off extremely happy then a few minutes later, along came his friend! Needless to say, pens (or chocolate for that matter) are not something we carry around in bulk! So he walked off -  a not so happy little boy!

A happy boy, with a pen 

At least it made a change from them asking for money!  Anyway... It was beautiful to see how the reflection of the sun could change the colours and the feel of the Taj Mahal...it was a beautiful day - visiting a place built upon love and devotion...mmmmmm....it was definitely worth the 14 hour piss smelling train journey!!!!   Next Stop - Rishikesh....

One last picture of the incredible TajMahal from across the river

Sensory overload in Varanasi

The journey was long and arduous, which consisted of a rickshaw to the little boat ferry, crossing on the boat, a rickshaw to Hospet train station, an overnight train of 10 hours to Bangalore city train station,

           

Allison on the overnight train

a taxi to Bangalore airport, a plane to Varanasi and finally a taxi to Hotel Ganesha. 

The taxi drive from Bangalore city railway station to Bangalore airport was of significance to me. The first western type of motorway we've seen since leaving home. It was in the early hours of Thursday morning, approximately 4 am and the driver had coaxed us into his cab and we were on our way at a probably inflated price of 1000 rupees, who were we to argue at this hour and feeling that tired. We were comfortably heading along the motorway and I briefly looked across the lanes to another taxi heading in the same direction, the driver looked like he could barely keep his eyes open, I thought to myself, thank God I'm not that passenger, I kept looking back to see if he'd remained awake, I then turned round and glimpsed the eyes of our driver in the rear view mirror. He was going boss eyed, his eyes were half closed and he was straining to keep them open.

Thoughts of an incident I'd attended at work entered my mind. A cabbie crashed his car taking a gentleman to Heathrow airport, killing himself and seriously injuring the passenger who's luggage was strewn all over the grass verge. There's no stimulant quite like the one of impending doom. I was now wide awake creating conversation with the Bengalaru cabbie, if I couldn't think of something to say I'd do loud, noisy, pretend coughs to keep his attention. We arrived at the airport safe n sound, unless I'm actually dead and writing this from the spirit world.
It took us just shy of 24 hours in total to reach our final destination of this part of our journey, Varanasi, one of the most religious cities on earth.

After dropping off our bags the hotel supplied us a free guide, Ajay who took us out on our first evening to have a brief walk along the ghats (river front steps that lead to the Ganges) as we were shattered. Free, but he liked telling us how much he was paid per month, so we think a donation is kind of expected.

The Ghats

On this our first introduction to Varanasi we were hit by an explosion to the senses. Sound, sight and smell are all attacked from every angle. This may have been heightened due to the fact we'd been travelling for nearly 24 hours so were greatly sleep deprived which amplified every bit of information sent to our sensory nervous system.   

On a bicycle rickshaw ride

The next day we were again met by our free guide Ajay, he'd had incredible reviews on tripadvisor but sadly me and Allison felt no connection with him. There was something lacking, and it wasn't just his skinny, scrawny self, something in his demeanour.

Perhaps he was tired of us westerners, or me and Allison just rubbed him up the wrong way. He'd just walk off in front paying us no attention along the busy, crazy roads and expect us to tuck in and tag along at his pace. We weren't bothered about the usual temple tour, we were more interested in the real Varanasi, the atmosphere, the people, the craziness and to somehow understand it. But understanding this place would take more than a days tour anyway.
We wanted to pay a visit to the Vishwanatha temple (Golden temple) but he was not keen to take us there so arranged for a friend to instead.
We managed to get into the temple after showing the tourist police our passports and claiming we were Hindu's, you have to be to gain entrance. I'm still flogging myself now from this deception. Although I did feel that practising yoga does enable you to say that you are studying a kind of Hindu philosophy, well at least there are some similarities. It was a strange experience, made all the weirder because of the initial deceit, "Ouch!" that hurt, as the flogging continues, but religion is built on forgiveness is it not?

We bumped into the English guy outside the Golden temple, and again later by the Ganges with his two friends

That evening we took a boat trip along the Ganges to take in some of the sights on the ghats, I was relieved that Ajay was not coming and it was only the driver of the boat but then he did not speak any English so we had no idea what was going on, Ajay come back!

I was desperate to have a go at rowing so using my signing skills, basically doing some air rowing, I wangled my way next to El Capitan

I was impressed with myself as I had to keep stopping as the boat would start to spin heavily in his direction. I'd wait for him to straighten it and then continue, but my power was just too great for this little Indian man.

I then wanted to take charge as he was going to slow for me, "out the way, let me take over". Man that oar he was holding was shit, the one I had been using was so much better. I kept spinning the boat in the same direction as before and couldn't use my left hand oar properly. After a few minutes my grip went and I was spinning out of control, I gave up, giving the captain full control of his boat back.

He may be little but he was good!

It was a nice and serene trip considering the intensity of some of the stuff that goes on.
The Hindu's deal with death a lot differently than us westerners. It's on show in full view, not hidden in nursing homes or retirement homes, you can see it. Bodies line up on the steps of Manikarnika ghat, bonfires blaze away as they burn the dead to give them moksha (release from the cycle of death and rebirth).

Photos are understandably frowned upon but I couldn't help myself, bodies align the steps on the right hand side of Manikarnika ghat

We turned back and sat on the boat at Dashashwamedh ghat watching the aarti ritual, a nightly worship to Shiva, the river Ganges and the whole universe.

Priests carrying out the ritual

The river Ganges itself, here in Varanasi is incredibly sacred but also extremely polluted. Faeces, dead bodies, highly toxic chemicals from upstream factories all add to the pollution. Does this matter? To us, yes it does matter, to Hindu's, no it doesn't. They bathe, swim, brush their teeth, wash their clothes and even drink this holiest of holy water. Again their immune systems must be made of more hardier stuff than ours.

 Bathing

 Bathing and doing their laundry, it's left to dry on the ghats where dirt and faeces are aplenty 

A young girl quenching her thirst, it's incredible

The next night I returned to Manikarnika ghat by foot to try and make sense of all the open cremations that go on. Allison had become ill and was in no way able to get out of bed and face the outside, so she holed up in our sanctuary of the hotel room, so I wandered along the ghats alone.
I had read reviews about the ghat, saying that there are a lot of touts in the area hustling for tourists to buy wood to help burn the dead. I had pre-empted how it might all be, quite an intense, stressful experience.
It wasn't! It was actually quite the opposite, calming, respectful, serene, with no hassle whatsoever. They would bring a covered body down the steps on a wooden stretcher whilst chanting. They would place the body on top of an unlit pile of wood. Blessing the body they would then light the fire from underneath, the body would burn and turn to ash. Very open and far from my preconceived ideas.

A man with his monkey

A character of Varanasi

The man you can barely see with white powder on his body is an Aghori, a sect of the Hindu religion. Many Hindu's practise the right way to reach God, the Aghori practise 'the left way', opposite to what others do. They eat animal faeces, drink urine, eat dead humans, practice necrophilia, smoke marijuana, drink alcohol, practise black magic, drink from human skulls. They believe that doing these things allows them to reach God quicker than if you follow the right way. They have a very interesting philosophy and are a very interesting group of people, perhaps I would bypass having a beer with one of these dudes though.

Ready to join the band

On our last day we again headed to Manikarnika ghat (cremation ghat), Allison needed to take a closer look for herself, now she was feeling a lot better. She found it strange that the cremations are so open for everyone to see. 

Like me but even more so she found the Ganges overly filthy and was unable to comprehend the extreme dirt and smell of the place. 

After having a nice meal at Aum cafe we step outside

A contradiction, a Mc Donalds in Varanasi, the furthest away from the western world in terms of lifestyle that we've ever been! Beef anyone? No way, as the cow is sacred here.

The intensity of this place has not diminished from that first evening we arrived, maybe after an extended period here you would get more numbed to how foreign it feels. The dirt, the shit, the piss, the noise, the serenity, the touts, the genuine people, the smell, the poverty, the money and the intense spirituality. This place makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to us, We can't comprehend it. It's a contradiction, It's just everything is so different from what we have come to know. Our clean house, our creature comforts, the bubble in which we live in. This place is like a heavyweight punch in the face "have that, now be on your way"! We don't want it to beat us, We want to understand it but can't seem to fathom how mad it all is. Would we ever come back, never say never.

Cows just freely roam the streets

Sadly there are loads of mangy dogs here

Today, night train to Agra, the Taj Mahal is waiting!

Bon Voyage

  

Don't worry be Hampi

They may take away our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!
Our month in Mandrem is finally up, moving onwards and upwards, literally, first we are heading east then north. It's nice to be moving on, it gives you a sense of freedom that you rarely get at home.

The bus journey from Mapusa (near Mandrem) to Hampi was manageable this time round. I think mainly because the bus could only reach a top speed of roughly 40 mph. Going up hill was a real issue for it and any slower I think we would of had to get off and push the old thing. I could breathe easy and get a bit of sleep, however Allison was constantly awoken by the lights that would be illuminated when stopping for passengers and toilet stops. I use the term toilet lightly, basically to piss by the roadside. Fine for me but more of a challenge for the women, namely Allison.
We've come to the conclusion that the semi sleeper buses are better than their sleeper bus cousins as you are more stable and rolling from side to side is non existent.

We arrived at Mowgli guest house and got settled in. "Do you have a safe where we can leave our passports" I enquired, the receptionist started gesticulating with his fingers , motioning like he was on a keyboard, "you can do it online" he responded. Erm, I think something may have been lost in translation. "Thank you" I said, Looks like I'll be carrying our important stuff then, I thought.

After settling in we headed out as we only had a couple of full days here to see as much as possible. We got the little motorboat across the river to the south side, its costs 10 rupees each and they stack as many people in it as possible.

As many people and a motorbike too

 An elephant bathing in the river as we cross

To save some time we hired a tuk tuk to take us on a whistle stop tour of Hampi's famous architecture. Like the bus the tuk tuk was pretty old and had seen much better days. At least on the bus I didn't have to get off and push. "Get out" said Ravi as the rickshaw came to a standstill going up a hill. I got out and assisted the machine up the hill. "Get in", I got in and we were away.

The old Elephant stables

One of the old statues looked remarkably like Allison

The architecture of the buildings and temples here is magnificent, even so you can get templed out by the end of the tour, temple after temple, building after building. I think it was probably more to do with the beating midday sun and dehydration that made us want to just relax and chill out with a cold drink.
The only thing is, relaxing with a drink is almost impossible here, firstly the only alcohol available is kingfisher beer, which I'm not to keen on because of the added ingredient glycerin. The other difficulty with relaxing with food or drink, is simply the flies! Loads of the little buggers, you have to be constantly on your guard as they keep landing on you, your plate, your glass, everything.

I lift my cup of chai for one second and the buggers start landing

The landscape of Hampi is like nothing I've ever seen, the sheer number of the granite rocks is immense. The majority are broken into huge boulders piled up on top of each other. In mythology they say that the boulders were thrown at each other by two princely monkey brothers at war, and they just kept on throwing, and the rocks kept on stacking. Who am I to argue with that. Geologists have a different theory but who in their right mind would believe them?

On our second day we hired a scooter and headed out on the north side of the river. We took in more of the amazing rock formations, many that look like they are defying gravity by teetering on the edge of other boulders.

On our journey we bumped into these two kung fu fighting individuals

From our daytime geological activities we were knackered. After sharing lunch with the flies we debated whether to watch the sunset from Anjanadri hill or just chill with a bottle of the only alcohol that was available. Luckily we chose the former, taking off on the scooter we headed for the 600 steps that make there way up the hill (which is more of a cliff really). On ascending we kept meeting different Indian families either going up or coming down, "hi, hi" the children would say very excitedly.

 One boy who was also making his way up decided to leave his family for dust and challenge me to a race to the summit, Obviously he was only young so I let him take off and reach the top first. Of course I didn't let the young pretender do that, giving him just enough lead to instill confidence in him, I reeled him in like a fish.

The young pretender, he had to wait for his family to catch up, lucky for me.

At the top we were met by monkeys, some braver than others.

Our last few hours in Hampi were over on the south side of the river. We were ready for some more temples and as we had missed one out on our tuk tuk trip we decided to see it before we left. 

The highlight was getting blessed by an elephant.

Elephant showing me some love

Look who we bumped into

They said they didn't want any money, but then guess what, like everyone including us, they did.

If Goa is Russian, Hampi is decidedly Israeli, let's see what Varanasi has in store for us.  

Mandrem surprise

Afro and Latin dance workout it said on the flyer. Yep, I'm up for some of that, I've got rhythm and some moves, no problem. 

Me and Allison went down to beach street so we could partake in the free initial dance class. The instructor was a camp guy who hailed from Bromley. The Latin beats begun along with his movement and step instructions. What was this? My left and right feet became two left feet! My hips could not move freely like the teacher, they were stiff and lethargic. To top it off I'd positioned myself at the front of the group thinking I was John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Thoughts of my poor departed old man kept entering my head. Bob (my dad) had no rhythm, he had no moves, he was that embarrassing man at the wedding party who would dance to a totally different tune. Like father like son. A cross ward glance at Allison, mistake! I still hadn't learnt not to look to wifey for solace at my own shitness.

She's got the moves!

                                           The view from our Afro, Latin dance workout

Keeping secrets isn't easy for me and when Jade mentioned that not only her and Roni were coming out to Goa but also Allison's sister Fiona and niece Laurene, I had a mammoth task ahead of me. Keep the fact that Fiona and Laurene were also coming a secret, keep this secret for three weeks. Not having anyone else to talk to apart from your wife, letting slip was only going to become more tempting. I wanted to sing it from the rooftops. "You know your sister and niece are also coming!!". But I surprisingly remained steadfast in my tight lippedness.

Surprise surprise, when the unexpected hits you between the eyes. We waited patiently for the imminent arrival of Roni, Jade and secret arrival of Fiona and Laurene. I had my camera in one hand and mobile to video the arrival in the other. "Oh my God, Oh my God", this became Allison's new chant as the two stowaway's stepped out of the taxi. Her surprise carried on through the evening as she was still in disbelief of the other two's sneaky presence.

The Arrival. 

"I'm going to get a taxi back" I informed Allison as I tagged along whilst they all looked round Arambol market. Looking round shops at knick knacks with five women who stop at each individual store to peruse the items on sale is probably the furthest away from what I would class as having a good time. But women absolutely love it? Give me a nice chair, cold beer and a DVD, ahh and bliss! Talking about bliss, I left them and wandered off up the road. He was walking towards me with two women. They turned down a dark alleyway, I followed, keeping my distance. I felt like I was a private detective. I needed a photo, how could I approach him without seeming crazy? I've got it! I walked passed him, stopped by the light at the bottom of the alleyway and pretended to be on a phone call, as he got close... "I recognise you, you were at Amma's Ashram?" I said, "yes, I was there" he replied. I told him I had seen others in Arambol who had also been at Amma's, the hugging mothers Ashram. "Can I take your photo as I'm taking photos of people who I cross paths with on my journey", "yes, no problem". "What's your name?" I enquired, "Mariano" he responded. Was I coming on to him? Was his presence too much for this heterosexual, firefighting male? No! I was just overly excited about seeing him again.

Thanks, see ya Mariano.

He was a nice guy, smile and all. I then wandered off, not angry, not pissed off, more ecstatic that I'd actually seen him again and wasn't going mad by imagining his presence.

Mariano, still in bliss

It's funny, people assume that when you come to India you get Delhi belly. That was correct for me, regurgitation in full effect! But a guy on the Yoga course Allison is assisting on experienced the polar opposite to this. No Delhi belly, just constipation for eight days. Mild relief came on the eighth day. The use of glycerin suppositories, two hard core bottles of laxatives, olive oil and other methods to coax out his poop all failed. A brown rice diet that would normally create some solid stools created no stools at all. I told him to go back on a diet of beer and burgers, perhaps that will entice a more regular pattern. 

The drum circle in Arambol is a nightly ritual where an influx of hippified characters descend onto the beach at sunset to drink, smoke dance enhancing weed and generally groove to the beat of the drum. When in Rome, we descended, we danced, rocking some serious shapes on the sandy dancefloor, I did have riddim, as the tribal beats took over me. Jade and Roni decided to share their new groove with a circle of dancing Indian men, that is until and unwanted advancement made them both make a hasty exit.

     Roni & Jade before hasty exit

In the groove

We spent the whole of Thursday on a family outing to the Basilica of Bom Jesus in Old Goa , a spice farm plantation and Mangeshi Hindu temple.

On arriving at the Old Goan church we were met by Davinder, a licenced guide of the historic site. "Would you like a geedeh?" he asked, It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what he said, "I don't know, do we want a geedeh?" copying his pronunciation I asked the others. The fee of 100 rupees (roughly a pound) was well spent. He would always follow  the telling of some interesting information by saying "okay, okay, come, come" and then herding us to the next fascinating display. "Ok, ok, come, come", I utter as we continue on our tour of the church. Repeats of his habitual ok's and come's followed by my foolish imitations were met by giggles from the ladies.

       Davinder and crew

The mortal remains of St Francis Xavier who's body is still visible in the church. There is minimal amounts of decay considering he died in 1552. Every 10 years they have a public viewing of his body where millions of Christian devotees flock from all over the world. The last time this happened was 2014.

The spice plantation was next up on the itinerary which was surprisingly more enjoyable than we had expected. A banana spider in its huge web was an added bonus. An overpriced Elephant ride was still worth it just to say you'd done it. Enjoyment was had by all, although Fiona held down the fact that she was crapping herself whilst on the huge beast rather well with her nervous smile.  

I've done it!

Laurene and a scared Fiona holding it down well

The last stop on the tour was Mangeshi temple, a nice pit stop to rest our weary feet but not a must see if your ever in North Goa. A so called Hindu priest approached us, led us to a secluded spot and gave us a spot of fortune telling. I will be getting on with Allison from February 21st he pronounced, I'm actually quite looking forward to that date now. Jade will be getting married in May or June, Roni's marital status will change in July, she's single at the moment so she's got a busy few months ahead. Fiona will be promoted in March, a new home in July. Laurene's writing will be good in April and gain a suitable partner also in July. Allison will be getting a promotion in September even though she's off work till January 2016. His hand was then held out for a tip for his very in depth fortune telling. See ya! We all turned away and scurried off.

It was only a matter of time before we saw it. On the way home a big gathering of people surrounded something in the road. As we got closer the picture became clear. A local  had come off his scooter, he was dead, that was plain to see. The ambulance pulled up as we drove passed.

I can't get over the disregard Indians seem to have for their own safety and well being. I think the west has gone a bit too far with health and safety but the reverse is happening here. They go in the sea here even though they can't swim, apparently a couple of people died last week as the tide just carried them out even though the tide isn't that strong. The lifeguards constantly blow their whistles at the Indians to call them closer into the shore. I think I'd give the ocean a miss if I couldn't swim.  

Our final event of the day was dining in the glorious 'cafe nu' in Mandrem, which is now my favourite restaurant in the whole wide world. It's obligatory to eat there if you are ever in this neck of the woods. 

  Cheers, the fabulous cafe nu

Peppered tuna steak, one of the many dishes we sampled

I officially fell out with our landlord the other day. The Goa day trip that cost us 2000 rupees with Keshav (roughly 20 pounds), Sudhir wanted to charge us 6000, three times the amount. I made it known that I wasn't happy about him trying to rip us off. He took umbrage in me telling him this. In the end he shouted "enough" as I kept repeating that 6000 is way too much to be trying to charge people who have been giving him good business. Which it is, if you are ever here and a taxi driver shows you an unofficial laminated bit of paper with prices on it, it means shit. Haggle the price down before you start your journey. The way Sudhir is is not how everyone is out here, the majority of the Indians I've come into personal contact with are honest people.

Snake in the grass   

The quest to befriend a Russian was rather simple in the end. In fact we had to keep trying not to become friends with our neighbour. A Russian guy who towards the end of our stay here was trying to insist that we party with him and his friend. Even to the point of pulling us into their apartment and forcing us to dance. We managed to make a quick getaway and leave the two high Ruskky's to continue their party as a duo.

The day we left, Paul our Russian neighbour informed me of his disappointment in me, remarking in his broken English "no drink, no drugs, no nothing" 

Paul couldn't hide his disappointment

The others have flown home and we are now off to Hampi by night bus! Whoopi!