[I just spent about a month in the mountains, where the internet is slow and expensive... so I’m running behind a lot! Still, I want to try to tell everything as well as possible, so I hope you don't mind reading about what I was doing almost two months ago...indeed, this story starts around the 15th of July]
Enough time spent in the South. It was time to head back north! Back to Delhi, and then to the mountains. But there ware quite a few places I wanted to see in between.
The first stop was Bangalore, the "silicon city" of India (for older or Marsian readers: this means that Bangalore houses many IT companies. IT means Information Technology. Computers and all). After a night bus, where the guy behind me seemed to be running a call center for hearing-impaired, I arrived in Bangalore around the morning rush hour. I saw well-dressed men and women hurrying to work with their laptop bags, just like I had imagined it. Bangalore is a crowded city, a city of workaholics, a city of entrepreneurs; the city of the Indian dream. It's also renowned for its enjoyable climate; at an altitude of around 900m, the capital of Karnataka enjoys mild temperatures throughout the year.
I was going to stay with a colleague of my father's, but he wouldn't be in town until the evening, so I spent the first day exploring Bangalore on my own. In spite of the occasional rains, I liked what I saw. I went to the very nice Cubbon Park, where people were walking around, reading a newspaper, and, most pleasantly, amorous couples were enjoying their Saturday together – after spending weeks in conservative Tamil Nadu, seeing some love made me feel warm inside. I went walking around in the backpackers' area, but there weren't many tourists, probably because of the rain. I met one Dutch girl in a cyber cafe, who turned out to have pretty much the same traveling plans as I did - one of those pleasant India-coincidences.
Then it was time to meet my father's colleague. I knew virtually nothing about him, so I imagined I would have a pleasant but perhaps slightly boring time with a middle-aged man. It was a nice surprise when he turned out to be in his early thirties; I had a lot of fun with him and his friends. We stayed at his cousin's apartment, in what he claimed was "the most expensive apartment building in Bangalore": a fancy complex called the "Acropolis", in pseudo ancient Greek style with guards at the gates and a swimming pool in the center, and right next to one of the city's swanky shopping centers. We spent a typical Indian-big-city-Sunday-afternoon there: hanging around in the mall sipping coffee and going to watch a Bollywood movie. Although especially the former is not really my cup of tea, I must admit I was glad to be in a cosmopolitan (or globalized, if you will) environment - it felt like home. I was in a big, modern city. Ah, those cities. Pretentious, smelly prostitutes, that's what they really are - with the polluting traffic, and the noise, and the crowdedness, and the perfectly dressed people who walk around as if the equator runs through their backsides (I felt totally un-cool in my backpacker's clothing). But at the same time, you get the feeling that this is where it's all happening, this is where the world gets shaped; you hear talk about business everywhere, almost everybody speaks English, nobody even stares at foreigners...again, what a contrast with Tamil Nadu! Cities are horrible in many ways, and great in some, but that's where I realized I'm a city child, and I can't resist the energy and the vibe of a metropolis. We also went out to a club one night, but unfortunately, clubs have to close at as early as 11.30 pm. By the time we got there, at 10.30, people were already starting to leave. But altogether I had a great time in B'lore - it's always special to spend time with local people. After three entertaining days, I took the night train to my next destination: Hampi.
When you talk to fellow travelers, you get a lot of tips of where to go and what to see (which, by the way, is so much more valuable than any Trotter or Lonely Planet could ever be). Perhaps the destination that is mentioned the most in that type of conversations is Hampi. I didn't really know what to expect; I vaguely knew it was a hilly area, and there were some ancient temples, but that was about it. But the other travelers were right: Hampi was one of the absolute highlights of my trip so far. The surrounding nature is amazing. Huge boulders are scattered all over the place, as if giants had been carelessly playing with giant-sized pebbles. The brownish color matches perfectly with the greenery in between. In the valley, a river makes its way between the rocks, flanked by palm trees that add a tropical touch. The ruins of 15th century temples provide an ultimate touch of magic.
After one day on my own I was joined by the girl I had met in Bangalore, who is an architecture student, so great company to visit ancient temples. We rented bikes to go around the various complexes, which made a nice day trip. Because of the beginning monsoon, there were only few tourists, so that we could enjoy the picturesque town called Hampi in a more authentic way. It rained a couple of times a day, but it’s always cozy to share a shelter with other people, and it kept the temperature at an enjoyable level. Low season is great!
My favorite spot in Hampi is a small temple, perched on a hilltop above one of the biggest temple complexes. I woke op at an ungodly hour twice to see the sunrise there - breathtaking. As if all of this isn’t enough, there is also a waterfall not far from there, which has carved strange holes in the rocks. Add to that some people with whom you get along really well, a cheap guesthouse with a good atmosphere and a nice riverside restaurant, and you’re in paradise!
Enough time spent in the South. It was time to head back north! Back to Delhi, and then to the mountains. But there ware quite a few places I wanted to see in between.
The first stop was Bangalore, the "silicon city" of India (for older or Marsian readers: this means that Bangalore houses many IT companies. IT means Information Technology. Computers and all). After a night bus, where the guy behind me seemed to be running a call center for hearing-impaired, I arrived in Bangalore around the morning rush hour. I saw well-dressed men and women hurrying to work with their laptop bags, just like I had imagined it. Bangalore is a crowded city, a city of workaholics, a city of entrepreneurs; the city of the Indian dream. It's also renowned for its enjoyable climate; at an altitude of around 900m, the capital of Karnataka enjoys mild temperatures throughout the year.
I was going to stay with a colleague of my father's, but he wouldn't be in town until the evening, so I spent the first day exploring Bangalore on my own. In spite of the occasional rains, I liked what I saw. I went to the very nice Cubbon Park, where people were walking around, reading a newspaper, and, most pleasantly, amorous couples were enjoying their Saturday together – after spending weeks in conservative Tamil Nadu, seeing some love made me feel warm inside. I went walking around in the backpackers' area, but there weren't many tourists, probably because of the rain. I met one Dutch girl in a cyber cafe, who turned out to have pretty much the same traveling plans as I did - one of those pleasant India-coincidences.
Then it was time to meet my father's colleague. I knew virtually nothing about him, so I imagined I would have a pleasant but perhaps slightly boring time with a middle-aged man. It was a nice surprise when he turned out to be in his early thirties; I had a lot of fun with him and his friends. We stayed at his cousin's apartment, in what he claimed was "the most expensive apartment building in Bangalore": a fancy complex called the "Acropolis", in pseudo ancient Greek style with guards at the gates and a swimming pool in the center, and right next to one of the city's swanky shopping centers. We spent a typical Indian-big-city-Sunday-afternoon there: hanging around in the mall sipping coffee and going to watch a Bollywood movie. Although especially the former is not really my cup of tea, I must admit I was glad to be in a cosmopolitan (or globalized, if you will) environment - it felt like home. I was in a big, modern city. Ah, those cities. Pretentious, smelly prostitutes, that's what they really are - with the polluting traffic, and the noise, and the crowdedness, and the perfectly dressed people who walk around as if the equator runs through their backsides (I felt totally un-cool in my backpacker's clothing). But at the same time, you get the feeling that this is where it's all happening, this is where the world gets shaped; you hear talk about business everywhere, almost everybody speaks English, nobody even stares at foreigners...again, what a contrast with Tamil Nadu! Cities are horrible in many ways, and great in some, but that's where I realized I'm a city child, and I can't resist the energy and the vibe of a metropolis. We also went out to a club one night, but unfortunately, clubs have to close at as early as 11.30 pm. By the time we got there, at 10.30, people were already starting to leave. But altogether I had a great time in B'lore - it's always special to spend time with local people. After three entertaining days, I took the night train to my next destination: Hampi.
When you talk to fellow travelers, you get a lot of tips of where to go and what to see (which, by the way, is so much more valuable than any Trotter or Lonely Planet could ever be). Perhaps the destination that is mentioned the most in that type of conversations is Hampi. I didn't really know what to expect; I vaguely knew it was a hilly area, and there were some ancient temples, but that was about it. But the other travelers were right: Hampi was one of the absolute highlights of my trip so far. The surrounding nature is amazing. Huge boulders are scattered all over the place, as if giants had been carelessly playing with giant-sized pebbles. The brownish color matches perfectly with the greenery in between. In the valley, a river makes its way between the rocks, flanked by palm trees that add a tropical touch. The ruins of 15th century temples provide an ultimate touch of magic.
After one day on my own I was joined by the girl I had met in Bangalore, who is an architecture student, so great company to visit ancient temples. We rented bikes to go around the various complexes, which made a nice day trip. Because of the beginning monsoon, there were only few tourists, so that we could enjoy the picturesque town called Hampi in a more authentic way. It rained a couple of times a day, but it’s always cozy to share a shelter with other people, and it kept the temperature at an enjoyable level. Low season is great!
My favorite spot in Hampi is a small temple, perched on a hilltop above one of the biggest temple complexes. I woke op at an ungodly hour twice to see the sunrise there - breathtaking. As if all of this isn’t enough, there is also a waterfall not far from there, which has carved strange holes in the rocks. Add to that some people with whom you get along really well, a cheap guesthouse with a good atmosphere and a nice riverside restaurant, and you’re in paradise!
Hampi...
After 4 magical days in Hampi, it was time to move on again. Next big destination: Mombai! I mean, Bumbay! I mean… anyway, I did a couple of stops in between. I had booked a train to Mumbai from Goa. This former hippie paradise seems to have turned into a touristy hotspot a la Costa Brava in the last couple of years – not exactly what I was looking for, especially since everybody told me it was rainy and empty. So I would just go to Goa to see it briefly and take the train.
A few people had told me about Gokarna, a pilgrimage village at the coast of Karnataka, that appeared to be a more laid-back version of Goa. When I finally got there – an accident had caused the train to be canceled, forcing me to take three buses instead – I found a picturesque town, with far more bare-chested pilgrims in orange clothing than tourists, where cows were leaning against the houses to hide for the almost continuous rain. The beaches looked beautiful but were, of course, abandoned. I only spent one night in Gokarna, but I’m glad I saw it.
That’s more than can be said of Goa, where the room was overpriced and Indian mass tourism once again crossed my path. As I said, I had come to Goa mainly to take the train to Mumbai. The Konkan railway, along the southeast coast of India, is said to be one of the most beautiful journeys in the subcontinent. I had booked a day train, a twelve-hour journey on the 21st of June, the longest day of the year. And I was not disappointed. The track makes its way through the Konkan hills, going from valley, to tunnel, to valley. After every tunnel, a new valley reveals its secrets: farmers in the fluo green rice paddies, working the humid earth with their oxen-driven ploughs, against a background of green hills, frequently decorated with waterfalls.
And so I got to Mumbai, that crazy harbor city, with the magnificent Taj hotel and colonial buildings on the one hand, and the biggest slum in Asia on the other. I spent three pretty crazy days there. The first morning I met some British people, with whom I spent the day walking around in the city, and the night watching football, English style (my headache the next morning testifies of what I mean by that). We got picked up by a Bollywood scout, who asked us if we wanted to be in a commercial the next day. The goal in Mumbai is usually to be an extra in an actual movie, but a commercial sounded better than nothing. We would get INR 500 (EUR 8,5) and, more importantly, would be put on the guest list of a famous club – we had just been talking about how we wanted to go dancing the next day. I had been warned that being an extra was a bit boring, though a fun experience – and that’s exactly what it turned out to be. After a short night, a taxi dropped me and an English guy at a stadium somewhere in the north of Mumbai. When we arrived, the first thing they asked us was if we knew how to play cricket; luckily, the English guy did, and the fact that I barely knew the rules didn’t seem to matter. We were both to play Australian cricket players. He was a wicket keeper, and I a fielder. Apparently, an Australian wicket keeper is not supposed to have a beard. My colleague had one, so some serious shaving had to be done first. But not before some equally serious negotiations; my friend, in a brilliant moment of Indian style business flair, said he didn’t want his beard shaven, unless they would give him some financial compensation – which, they did. Instead of sending a barber, as we expected, they just gave him the cheapest type of razor, and needed more than half an hour to get him shaving foam to do the job. Another forty-five minutes later – my friend’s beard was tenacious, the razor blunt – we got our yellow Australian cricketer outfits. So far the funny and amusing part. It was an extremely rainy day, and since we had to shoot our scene on the cricket field, we needed to wait for a dry moment. Nine hours we spent waiting, in a cold, air-conditioned trailer. It wasn’t so bad at first; we chatted and joked with some crew members and fellow extras, and every once in a while we went to take a look at the set, where a crowd of a couple of hundred was made to cheer, clap and sing. But after a couple of hours, the fun was fading and we just wanted to get it over with. Luckily, when the moment finally came, however short, it was pretty rewarding. Although we were paid and treated like extras, we had a pretty big role, especially my friend, who had to catch a ball and throw it back. I was standing behind him – “just act like a fielder”, they told me, and although I had only a vague idea of what those fellows usually do, my standing around trying to look as if I knew what I was doing seemed to be satisfactory. Behind me, the crowd was still clapping and cheering, although I suspect it was not for my two-man team, nor for our world class acting performances. The commercial is supposed to air soon on the major Indian TV channels, but I haven’t seen it until now (roughly six weeks later). When we finally got back, well-deserved INR 500 (and a bit more for my freshly shaved business minded buddy) in our pockets, I felt a bit feverish. Not wanting to miss the party, the reward for a full day of waiting around, I had a powernap before following the others to the nightclub.
C'mon Australia!
After yet another extremely short night, I decided that it was time to leave. There was only one more thing I wanted to do in Mumbai: to visit the slums. Most people react skeptically to this, and so did I, at first; isn’t it a strange form of tourism? But someone convinced me, saying that, since 55% of Mumbai lives in slums, it’s just like visiting an important part of the city. What’s more, part of the money that you pay to the guide goes to a local NGO. It turned out to be quite different than I had imagined; if you think Slumdog-Millionaire-type misery, you’re mistaken (although a lots of scenes of the film were shot there). Contrary to other areas, the Dharavi slum, the biggest in Asia (almost 1 million inhabitants!), is an “official slum”. Indian government gave up the land and legalized it; people there pay rent and have water and electricity, and many houses are made of concrete. The name “slum” is almost a merely theoretical one; almost, because many people live in one room with their whole family, and there is one toilet per 1500 inhabitants. During 3 very rainy hours, we were guided through the slum. A big part is a business area. You can find tanners, smiths, potters, etc. It’s also a recycling paradise: plastic, tin cans, oil jars, everything is re-used or processed in new products. It’s big business; for instance, one of the tanners’ leather is exported to Italy, where it’s used in luxury products – the owner’s BMW is parked right around the corner. It’s one of those places where our cheap clothes and other products are made. The workers come from villages, where the wages are even lower than in the slum. They live above the workplace, and send money back to their families. They don’t have to work on Sundays, but a lot of them do. Of course, safety rules are virtually inexistent. Just something to think about when you buy cheap products back home… The residential area is quite different. Some people live in proper houses – that’s where it’s really hard to believe that you really are in a slum. People just live there because it’s situated pretty much in the center of the city, and the prices are lower than in regular areas. There are plenty of schools (both public and private), shops, and they even have their own bank. So Dharavi is really a sort of microcosm where thing’s aren’t as bad as one could imagine. In the last decade, the government has started a controversial “rehabilitation program”, where inhabitants of the slums are being relocated in apartment blocks. Not everybody is happy with that; it’s threatening the small businesses, and the people don’t want to pay property taxes.
At the end of the humid and tiring tour, my fever came back in force. Three days of walking around in the rain and little sleep seemed to be taking its toll. That same night I had to take a train to Aurangabad, my next destination. I was just at the start of a very intensive week, where I would from go from Mumbai towards Delhi, stopping only shortly in between and spending most nights in trains and buses; bad timing for illness…
At the end of the humid and tiring tour, my fever came back in force. Three days of walking around in the rain and little sleep seemed to be taking its toll. That same night I had to take a train to Aurangabad, my next destination. I was just at the start of a very intensive week, where I would from go from Mumbai towards Delhi, stopping only shortly in between and spending most nights in trains and buses; bad timing for illness…
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