India - a country of contrasts. In summary. It'll serenade your senses with its spice-rich curries that melt you to your undersized stool, then punch you square in the stomach, serving up 20-a-day Diarrhoea (just in time for a 30 hour train). It will teach you the positive ways Buddhism leads people to treat other beings, yet rip up that rule book when you see a stray dog being booted by a shop owner. And what would an India summary be without a smel-aphor, it'll shower you with incense smoke and lotus flower aromas, then regurgitate cow and human shit across every street, with often no smellual respite. Yup, it's been the most colourful part of our journey, and we'll miss it as much as we won't.
We began our journey in the South, in Kerala, working our way North over the course of our (painfully acquired) 30 day visa. The difference between the South and the North is enormous, as I guess you'd imagine from a single country this hench. You will see this over the course of this post.
Crack chai from Little World cafe.
And back aboard the train for a mammoth of a trip from Goa, via Mumbai (itself a 24hr journey), and straight on to a 30 hour end-to-end ride to Varanasi.
Aaannd Varanasi is full-scale, deregulated carnage, moreso than that same-named Uni bar crawl that I think might have been curated by Lad Bible. With as many cows in the streets as humans, and relative levels of shit to go with it. Your ears are bombarded with bike horns, your nostrils with shit, and you'll find yourself contending with substantial sized bulls in every alley.
Something I did manage before lightning struck inside me, was smoke up with a Baba on the Ghats. The incredibly dressed man in the middle, is one of a number of guys you find by the river, who literally smoke hash, allllll day long.
A major highlight was sleeping under the stars, of which Maria and James (sister and brother in law of Al), and the baba herself, Hannah Staunton, had said was unbelievable. And it is. I can't imagine there is anywhere in the world you'll have a clearer view of the stars than in the desert. We handily had a few amateur stargazers with us too, so it was great to have constellations pointed out to us. One of those Chillums would have been nice too! God guys.
A wild baby camel that had been born that day! Our guide, Babu, proceeded to milk mama camel for a small bottles worth of fresh camel milk. The best milk for chai apparently.
I'd also seen that my friend Lisa from Burnett's was here for a wedding, so arranged to meet at the hotel she'd been in. And what a place! It was so nice to catch up properly and find out what'd been going on back at the office, and in what has to be one of the most beautiful hotels we've ever been in.
There is so much more in both of our notebooks on India, and I don't feel I've even half covered it. You really will have to go and see it for yourself. I don't think there is a bigger culture shock you can have across the planet, and whilst you'll have sensed some upset throughout the article, writing this one month on, we realise just how special this place is, and desperately hope that increasing western influence doesn't impact such an explosion of culture. Honestly, you must must go.
Our story begins in Kochi, the 'capital' of the Kerala region. Largely knocked as little more than the landing mat to roll off into the palm strewn beauty of the region, but we found it to be a lovely introduction to India. We wondered the streets, all grouped with shops of the single commodity they sell; tea street, turmeric alley, sandalwood lane. We sampled the first of many Thalis - essentially a silver waiters tray with a variety of the local curries, chappatis, rice and lime pickle, for never more than a pound a pop. And generally acclimatised to a rather hot region (around the 33 degs mark).
The typical Thali - this one with a Gobi Massala, Aloo ummm, curry, a Bindi, uhh, curry, chappatis, rice, yoghurt and a rice pudding for dessert. Bangarang.
Our first proper stop out of Kochi was Allepey, a short (cramped sweaty curryey pooey) bus ride south. This is the spot for exploring the 'backwaters' on a house boat, a spectacular network of rivers and lakes, surrounded by traditional communities, coconut trees and rice fields. We spent two nights aboard the above, feeling hyper-relaxed, sinking coconuts, munching more delicious veggie curries and sipping in the beautiful surroundings.
What does rice look like when it grows? Does it grow under the layer of water all the paddies in photos look to have? No. It grows above it, and looks like a-this... (Above).
Generally, very few Indians drink because of religion (though in more modern cities like Mumbai and Delhi, this is now far from the case). We had heard before the trip that if you ask nicely, your boat captain can take you to one of the on-the-sly Coconut beer breweries. Sounds like a cracking idea right? Hmmmehhh, nat so much. It's pretty boog, but it must've been pretty strong as it had us stumbling about the boat like we were in a bath tub on the Pacific. Good fun though, and cool to see one of these sneaky, prohibition/speakeasy-esque establishments. It was also the last sauce we'd have for the remainder of the month. Eek.
Our final stop in the south, completing the last few days of our first week, was Varkala, tipped by Hannah as a delicious little beach stop surrounded by a cliff, with a few restaurants and yoga platforms. Minimal photos from here, often a sign that we're in full floop mode - tee'd up from morning yoga from a real life Indian yogi, followed up with muesli and ridiculously fresh local fruits like pineapple and papaya, a little beach time to mong, and rounded off with more delicious Indian delights. Dat beach lyfe, is the one.
Time to head North, from one beach to another. Slinking from deep south, to middle Goa, via our first Indian train experience.
And my Shiva are they as bonkers as everyone proclaims. Looking back on the trip now from Vietnam, there is nowhere in India you will experience its culture more than in sleeper class of a train, but actually, largely in the most positive way possible.
Like Colombia, locals around you that eat, will always share some of what they have with you. A really touching gesture that will continue throughout the journey. And a gesture that you're quickly able to return, from the bombardment of vendors battling their way down the densely packed aisles of the trains, selling everything from gloriously spiced (though bloody sweet) chai tea, to buffalo milk (drunk from a pouch, like a Capri-Sun), to full blown thalis. I'd say not a 5 minute spell would pass without at least one vendor passing, and this goes on throughout your journey. And our many train journeys across the country ranged from 20 hours, to 2 days, so it was actually rather nice to have the constant distraction of a hot tea or a deep fried snack. Why not. We're on holiday.
Scene from the side of the tracks viewed from the train. The level of litter is unimaginable until you see it.
Welcome to Goa! The least Indian place you can visit in India, one where it is far easier to get a Chinese than a Curry, and a place you could quite easily mistake yourself for being in Europe. But, it's still a beautiful and relaxing spot for a few days respite before heading up to the nutsness of the North.
We stayed in plywood sheds on Palolem beach for £4 a night, continuing our well-loved routine of yoga/running, beaching out and dowsing ourselves with curry. Okay it's pretty great here actually.
Crack chai from Little World cafe.
That's 1296 miles from 1-2-3.
The Ganga river and the Ghats.
Amidst all of the chaos, there is a real sense of tranquility and purity in Varanasi.
Varanasi is considered the birth place of Lord Shiva, and is ultimately, the Mecca of Hinduism. It's best known for the Ghats, the riverside steps that spread across the famous Ganga (Ganges) river, that lay stage to the famous funeral ceremonies. But a funeral not as we know it...
Over 300 families come to Varanasi every day with their dead, to burn their bodies before sending the remains down the river. It is probably far beyond the upper limits of voyeurism, but we had to go and see.
Our boat rowsman (is that a word?) explained to us that the women are not allowed to attend (we found India to be pretty backwards still when it comes to the treatment and rights of women), and often some families can't afford enough timber to burn the body down completely, so it's not uncommon to see a floating hand bobbing its way past your boat. Sure.
The river is of course very sacred, and so most pilgrims come here to bathe in the river to cleanse their souls, which on paper, I thought might be quite a cool tick box to fill on the bucket list. Though after finding out about the whole floating limbs thing, plus seeing a dead dog on the banks of it, I quickly changed my mind.
But, there is no drawing from how powerful the aura is that comes from this place. From the 5am chanting you hear echoing across the endless unnavigable alleys, to the herds of devotees kneeling to pray during the daily evening 'Pooja' ceremonies (see below), this is India in its holiest, most traditional glory, and you wonder whether the city looked much different in its architecture, or people, a thousand years ago. We would recommend it to anyone wanting to see the real India, but would warn them of a harsher reality we came to learn the following day...
Until this point, around 2 weeks in to our India leg, we'd been pretty bolshy in what we eat and drink, accepting curries from strangers, brushing our teeth in train water taps, the lot. But, our luck changed at the above point.
This photo is, looking back, a rather funny one. It's us enjoying our first proper lassi, and I think you'll agree, we're really enjoying it. Well, as you can probably guess from my tone, we got hit. We got hit in such a big way, that 2 and a half months on from this photo, I, as of yesterday, am firm again. I'll leave the rest up to your imagination.
Lucy joked before we came away about a friend of hers who went to India and wanted to lose weight so licked her flip flop after a day out. Well, it'd bloody work, but Christ you'll never have had stomach pain and sting-ring quite like it. I've lost a stone though, so I'm having a blast putting it back on.
A creature that has more of a stomach for local dairy products.
Hash's birth place is northern India, and the name Ganja comes from the river. So to clear things up, Ganja is hash, rather than the generalised name for Mara-ju. Anyway, it looked bloody sketchy but I was really up for trying it.
So, after curiously peering over at the group of Ganja chillers a few times, I got invited up to their perch (as you can see, much more bait than I thought), and old Indian Marley passes the 'Chillum' round the group, a little clay hash pipe. It's bloody harsh on the throat, but left a subtle little high that gives you a little cloud to float on as you stroll back along the river sipping in the crazy surroundings.
Back to the Lightning anyway. Sooo basically we had to move on to our next destination a couple of days after that lassi. Alice was in slightly better spirits, but I was still in 20-a-day territory, and had to board a train we'd booked all the way over to Jodhpur in the West.
This was my home for the following 30 hours...
I see little reason not to call this the lowest point in my life.
Okay, no more poo chat. Jodhpur was lovely, though we couldn't enjoy it fully, and were scarred from curry, so of the little we ate, we had to scope out western grub. We managed to get out and about and see it all, including the fort oop top there. Very nice.
Next stop, Jaisalmer. Another very old, traditional Rajastani town, on the fringes of the Thar desert. It was here we headed into said desert on camels! What an experience. Though not the most comfortable, they are such amazing animals. Relatively docile, and such a bloody cool way to trundle across a desert. We donned our turbans, and hopped aboard.
Up next was Udaipur, labelled 'the Venice of India' as it is beautifully set on a lake. There ain't much natural water in old Raj so it's a really welcome sight.
I'd also seen that my friend Lisa from Burnett's was here for a wedding, so arranged to meet at the hotel she'd been in. And what a place! It was so nice to catch up properly and find out what'd been going on back at the office, and in what has to be one of the most beautiful hotels we've ever been in.
Our final stop was Pushkar, a smaller scale and slightly tamer Varanasi. A number of people had tipped this as a really nice respite from the bonkersness of the rest of Rajastan, and it proved to be just that.
More 'cleansing' in the nice clean water of Pushkar lake.
There is so much more in both of our notebooks on India, and I don't feel I've even half covered it. You really will have to go and see it for yourself. I don't think there is a bigger culture shock you can have across the planet, and whilst you'll have sensed some upset throughout the article, writing this one month on, we realise just how special this place is, and desperately hope that increasing western influence doesn't impact such an explosion of culture. Honestly, you must must go.
Hope all is swell back home and you're getting excited for summer, we hear the sun has been cheekily bobbing out for a tease here and there.
Peace X
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