Actually India!

A year ago, we were persuaded to go to India, so one day, whilst surfing the web, I spotted some cheap tickets, and while Georgie went off to Town to do the groceries, I booked our flights.  

On 1st May, we set off for India after spending 4 days walking in the Kruger National Park. We did the Sweni route, but that story is for another day.    Never a dull moment, you might say, but believe me, it was nerve-wracking to get everything organized, work commitments sorted, etc.

To do an Indian odyssey is not for the uninformed or faint-hearted.  We did a lot of research, studiously watched the Travel Channel, and read everything anyone has written about India. Advice and suggestions from friends were religiously followed. Google, TripAdvisor, Hotels.com, and the official Indian Railway site became my best friends... nothing happened in India without us knowing about it.   We ate, slept, cooked, and dreamt in India.  We saw to it that we were injected, vaccinated, doped, and prescribed for every disease known to humanity.   That I might get arrested for drug trafficking did cross my mind. 

The first stop on our Grand Tour was Mauritius; we landed for a very nice overnight stay at the Movenpick Resort at the expense of Air Mauritius, who’d botched our flights. Spent a very enjoyable morning photographing the area and then had the pleasure of meeting the family, George’s long-lost cousin, who lives in Mauritius.     Always nice to catch up with family, and the two regaled us with family histories and anecdotes, caught up on family news, and called back the past. The Mc Gregors are raconteurs of note, so time flew, and before we knew it, we were back on the plane, off to Mumbai.

Our landing in Mumbai was “soft,” and my first impression was from the back seat of a very grand chauffeur-driven Mercedes, someone noted, “probably the only E-class in Mumbai.” We stayed in the incredibly luxurious Oberoi Hotel, a stone’s throw from the Gateway of India and all the other famous landmarks. Our first day was spent exploring as much of the old city as we could on foot, since we thought that would help us acclimatise quickly! This would be our first encounter with the hooters; every moving vehicle has a hooter or bell, and they’re all hooting, honking, or ringing.

The traffic is hectic; lanes of cars, taxis, horses, donkeys, one elephant, cattle, rickshaws, auto rickshaws, bicycles, buses, minibuses, pedestrians, and camels are all trying to reach their respective destinations as quickly as possible along the shortest routes. There are no traffic rules, but everyone has the utmost respect for everything that moves on those roads. Even George and I managed to cross highways and byways. Not once did we hear any swearing, shouting, finger-pointing, or road rage; it was INCREDIBLE.   Vehicles have stickers or are painted with the words “Hoot please” on the back!

 We also got ourselves kitted out with new 3G SIM cards and Indian telephone numbers; the salesperson thought he’d struck gold, and I think he sold us the top-of-the-range option. Service was quick and efficient. We stopped off at Leopold’s Cafe, thought we’d have an ice-cold beer there, only to be told that it was a “dry” day in India... no booze sold or served, that was a shock, but we settled for a coldish Coke as the temperatures were soaring in the high 30s.   

Being Saffa’s, we thought we’d get around this minor stumbling block, and that evening we took a Coke bottle filled with BC wine to supper at a highly recommended restaurant, The Khyber.   After we’d sipped our Cokes and the waiter wasn’t watching, we surreptitiously poured ourselves a glass of red.... not too long afterward, the maître d'hôtel approached our table and very politely and professionally enquired whether there was any alcohol being consumed at the table, “of course” we piped up and like school children were reprimanded and told that we could finish the contents of our glasses. Still, we weren’t permitted to drink any more alcohol as they could lose their license if the police raided the establishment.   We were well chided and behaved ourselves for the rest of the evening.

On our second day we went on a guided tour of Mumbai, we hired the services of a delightful young man called Pranav, who hired a vehicle and driver, he took us to all the attractions, we did the flower market, we saw the laundry Wallas, the thieves market (Chor bazaar), had a street lunch, went to Ghandi’s house, Victoria Terminus, the spectacular train station, botanical gardens, a Hindu temple where we met a monk from Durban who’d worked for Investec bank until a year ago! He was as thrilled to meet us as we were to meet him. 

Pranav’s knowledge of South African cricketers is phenomenal, and his heroes are all South Africans. He made it very clear that cricket is a religion in India, and every Indian worth his salt is a believer!  After our street lunch, we walked through a huge park and the Mumbai Cricket Club, where there were at least 30 games in various stages, everyone very formally kitted out in cricket whites! This seems to go on every day of the week. We also passed a very Colonial-looking Gentleman’s Club, which reminded me of Kelvin Grove. Pranav said there used to be a sign up saying “No dogs or Indians allowed”!   Lunch was still being served, but the gentlemen had changed.

George and I got up before dawn one morning, hailed a taxi, and went off to the Sassoon docks, a fascinating fishing harbour; unfortunately, due to the terrorist attacks in the city in 2008, no photography is allowed, as the terrorists used this harbour as their entry to Mumbai. Here, fishermen have been plying their trade for centuries, and some of the vessels look it!   Hundreds of kilos of fish are caught every day, and it’s just mind-boggling to think this has been going on for literally hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

Security is a priority at many of the better hotels, and every car or taxi is searched, guests are searched, and handbags and luggage are checked. We were very impressed, as we were never overlooked, although we entered and left our hotel so often.

We saw the Dabbawallas too! These are men who pick up freshly cooked meals from homes all over the city and deliver them to the right offices. The meals are packed in Tiffin boxes labelled with the recipient's name! Fascinating, I believe over 200,000 Tiffin boxes are delivered daily, and only very rarely are mistakes made!

We enjoyed many lovely meals all around the city and made a special effort to visit the Grand Dame of Mumbai, the Taj Mahal Palace and Tower, but we only had a cool drink there! We couldn’t stay for High tea as we’d made a reservation at the Oberoi’s Michelin Star restaurant that evening.

The Oberoi was amazing.  See the blog post about the Oberoi.

Our last meeting in Mumbai was with Anil Singh, who kindly arranged a chauffeur for us to and from the airport and the railway station. He was appalled to hear about our forthcoming train journey.

Astrologers said the stars were aligned during the first week of our trip, so everyone was getting married as the dates would be lucky. The first Monday was particularly good, and we saw evidence thereof. Weddings are, as you can imagine, huge events, with guest lists in the thousands! Arranged marriages are still the norm, although “love” marriages are coming into vogue; statistics aren’t good, and they’re not recommended.   We saw several silvered, bejewelled, and ornately decorated horse-drawn carriages, ghetto blasters on wheels, marching bands, and torches (huge, electrified candelabras), all used in the street parades. Dowries are mainly paid in gold and silver, and numerous Goldsmiths are plying their trade during this season.

As you can imagine, we were a trifle anxious about our arrival at Udaipur station, where we had to meet our driver and car; our driver was Rajesh Kumar Meena.  See the blog post Driver and Car in India.

Udaipur is the city of lakes and marble palaces; it’s beautiful with narrow cobblestone lanes and streets. We stayed in a lovely Haveli right on the water’s edge, and I could imagine Venice with its bridges, boats, and canals. On our first evening there, we had a scrumptious dinner at one of the fine restaurants and met big-game hunters from Gaborone, Botswana.   Bok heard us speaking Afrikaans and just had to introduce himself.  A lovely couple who had us in stitches, regaling us with their amusing travel stories, they’d been to the village where the movie “The Exotic Marigold Hotel” was filmed.   Bok and I are firm Facebook friends now (got to love FB)!

Our next stop was Jaipur, but en route we stopped off at the Chittorgarh Fort, with its sprawling ruins of palaces, temples, and towers.  It was in Jaipur that we were fortunate enough to watch the Rajasthan Royals take on the Delhi Daredevils in an IPL 20/20 cricket match. What an experience!     Rajesh whisked us onto the grounds with our VIP parking ticket. We had fantastic seats on the President’s stand, in the shade with scented napkins to mop our brows. Snacks and drinks were on the house, and it felt like being back on the Members’ stand at Newlands! The groundkeeper’s wife, with her 4 boys, sat next to me, which made me nostalgic, as my children used to love cricket too, and we were often there. The Rajasthan Royals won their game, and this experience was one of the highlights of our trip.

 From Jaipur, we doubled back to Jodhpur (the home of the famous Jodhpur trousers).   Shortly after we arrived in India, an Indian Journalist was executed (murdered) in Pakistan, which made huge headlines across India. Many Indians were very emotional about this; he even had a state funeral. We soon realized that Pakistan is the sworn enemy of India, and they’re hated with a passion. It's hard to believe that when one thinks of these calm, friendly, patient, tolerant people, it goes to show “there is a limit, you know!” Jodhpur, being very close to the border, has a strong military presence, and security is always on high alert.   It is a beautiful indigo-blue city; many of the houses and buildings are painted this beautiful blue, as it’s believed to be a mosquito repellent. I think our beach cottage is going to be that colour when we next paint it, so watch out, Buurman (Neighbour) if the little buggers inundate you.

Rajasthan was hot, and because of the extreme weather, the streets were packed with carts selling all sorts of cool drinks and juices. We loved the salty lemonade, the gorgeous, rich, creamy Mango Lassis, and Precious enjoyed the Chai teas. I loved Coke in a small bottle. We had to give up our morning coffees as they’re awful!   Many shop owners, Havelis, and Hotels would offer us cool drinks on arrival. This was special and so thoughtful, and of course, one spends more once you’ve been plied with lemonade! We only drank bottled water, and I made sure to check the bottom of each bottle for the telltale plug, which means it’s a recycled bottle with tap water! Before I forget, we enjoyed gorgeous Moët at the Oberoi (we received a voucher when we made our dinner reservation! Cheap skates, which we are!)   When we were able to order a bottle of red, we always opted for the Indian wines, grown and made just north of Mumbai, which were very enjoyable indeed. Beer is readily available, and King Fisher is a thirst-quencher and reasonably cheap.

 Precious and I often wondered how the government collects its taxes, as most of the trade is informal and paid in cash, and I can’t imagine much bookkeeping taking place. Still, we didn’t have to wonder for too long, as we discovered that the tourists and patrons of the Hotels, restaurants, and formal computerized businesses like the Indian Railways and Airways must bear the brunt thereof. The taxes are enormous; we would add at least 30-40% to our restaurant bills for sales tax, government tax, liquor tax, service tax, and myriad other taxes.

 Ranthambore National Park was our next real destination but en-route we persuaded Rajesh to stop over in Bundi, he was not at all keen as the roads are a nightmare he said, he didn’t realise he had a Honey badger in the car who, as you well know takes no nonsense, let’s face it we thought what could be worse we’ve done traffic in Mumbai and on the country roads. We’ve done Mozambique, and it’s only 120km; it was pretty rough, but seeing as Rudyard Kipling lived there, we had to see it too. It’s also believed to be a very Hippish, chilled-out, and relaxed village. Rumour has it that the smoking of cannabis is legal there, and EVERYONE does it.     We didn’t smell it or see it, no one offered us a doobie, no one looked remotely stoned or like a drug dealer, so much for Precious’s pipe dream!

In Ranthambhore village, my Precious decided to hire a tailor to make shorts. After a lot of haggling and bargaining, he finally did the necessary and, hopefully, the awaited trousers.   Nothing really worked according to plan. The tailor had a long story; the pants were late, had to be altered, and ultimately, they weren’t up to scratch. Disappointment looms as their fate is determined.

We returned to Jaipur for 2 nights before our trip to Agra to see the cottage my beloved wanted me to view.   Jaipur is the jewellery capital, so off we went to see what’s on offer. We ended up buying a few trinkets. I looked at my bank statement this morning and almost choked, so if you see me with some Indian silver, know it’s antique!   I was reminded of the advertising board I saw, which read “Jay Shree Krishna Pearls – Artificial jewellery and Silver Jewellery”!

Shopping in India is a battle of wits and mind; there are so many stalls, shops, and markets.   Sellers, shopkeepers and traders are a dime a dozen and shopping is a National pastime which has to be entered into with caution, time, patience and lots of knowledge, which we didn’t have, so we really did very little shopping, bargaining is a nightmare for one, the shops are overcrowded, the goods on offer overwhelming and of course the being ripped off was our biggest fear! All our worst nightmares would come true if our credit cards were compromised, for instance! My biggest fear, of course, is shopping with a husband!

 Not all of our accommodations were pre-booked, so we’d often have to research our new destination a day or two before our arrival. We relied on the internet quite a bit, so having Wi-Fi was crucial and one of the two things we insisted on when making a reservation, the other, of course, was air conditioning or AC, as it’s known in India.   On one or two occasions, the AC failed to deliver, and we spent one sleepless night with a fan from hell. We were upgraded the next day. Overall, Wi-Fi was often free, and when we had to pay, it was very reasonable.  

TripAdvisor is a favourite website among most establishments, guides, and drivers, who encourage visitors to write comments, and leaderboard ratings are highly regarded and jealously guarded. Because copyright isn't strong in India and they totally disregard copyright laws, there’s a huge amount of identity theft. Many business websites are abandoned because of this, so one’s never sure whether the websites are dodgy or legit. We stayed mostly in Havelis and some former palaces. Still, towards the latter part of our journey, we opted for modern Hotels with all the amenities, more comfortable beds, and modern bathrooms.   Talking of which, I was really impressed by the “facilities”: for hygiene reasons, every lavatory has a hand-shower attachment (instead of a bidet). These are great.

 Everyone asks us whether India is as dirty and smelly as they’ve heard... YES YES YES, it is. It’s everything you’ve ever heard and more. Still, Precious and I decided before we left that we weren’t going to “see” that, that we’d have a positive attitude, because India is all about attitude. I must truly say I was never shocked until I tried to get rid of our rubbish on the Agra-Delhi train and asked a boy to move away from the bin so I could use it. Without missing a beat, he opened the carriage door and indicated that I should toss it out onto the railway lines, this while we were in the station! I said that was impossible, and eventually he moved, so I could squash it into the rubbish bin, only for it to land on the rails anyway.

 We only spent one night in Agra, and we saw the Taj at sunset twice and sunrise once, perfect for photography. It’s a beautiful landmark and worth seeing. Precious and I did the Princess Diane pose on the bench!  Rajesh dropped us off at the railway station after supper, and we said goodbye to him. 

Varanasi is frenetic and overcrowded, so we decided to hire porters to help with our luggage. Imagine all your earthly possessions on someone’s head, and they’re off ahead of you. We needed two auto rickshaws to get us as close to our Guesthouse as possible. The streets are so narrow there that some near the Ganges are closed to all vehicles and can only be accessed on foot.   We were tired, hot, bothered, irritated, and generally travel weary (gatvol). Precious was not keen on Varanasi to begin with, as it is the holiest of holy cities in India, the oldest city in the world, and where cremations are performed publicly on the riverbank. We’ve heard stories of bodies floating down the river, too, ones that weren’t weighed down properly.

 So, you can imagine the mood amongst the ranks as we negotiated these narrow lanes at temperatures of 46˚C!   My heart almost stopped when we arrived at the hotel, and I walked into the “lobby”; it looked like a dump. We were too tired to complain and headed off to the “president's room” with the promise of AC in double-quick time.   We had a balcony overlooking the Ganges, so I had to have a look.   One look at that sight and my weariness was a thing of the past; it was magnificent!   The beer served was ice-cold and delicious, and soon we were right as rain. We stayed in and enjoyed supper on our stoep with 2 youngsters, one Parisian, the other German. Delightful men who entertained us and shared our wine, although I doubt whether it lived up to their sophisticated European palates!    

 At dawn, we paddled up and down the river, which was an amazing experience, colourful, intense, and exciting.   Not only is it a burial site, but it’s truly the river of life. It’s used for fishing, bathing, swimming, drinking, laundry, cremations, and burials, so from the cradle to the grave, this river forms part of a Hindu life, and of course, it’s fundamental in their spiritual life too.     To us, it was mind-boggling and awesome to see someone use it as a place of worship one minute, then as a bathroom, and then they’d happily drink from it, too! We bought two candles encircled by marigolds in a tinfoil pie case, lit them, and floated them down the river in remembrance of all our children, grandchildren, family, friends, loved ones with us and those not with us anymore... so a memory of you goes down the Ganges too!

We wandered around Varanasi after the boat ride. We got hopelessly lost. We enjoyed a lovely Lassi in a tiny, crowded Lassi shop. We had a Guru guide us home, who zigzagged us through a maze of alleys, to be repeated later with our luggage on the sherpas' heads, then by auto rickshaw, and back to the station to our 1st-class compartment to Delhi.  See Traveling by Rail in India

Disastrous Delhi was our destination. Mr. “I do no shopping” planned this leg of the trip for the sole purpose of buying pirate copies of Photoshop CS6; he’d Googled everything, so it was just a matter of getting on the tube, and voilà, we’d go to this building and buy it. Easier said than done, the building is a warren of tiny shops, selling anything relating to IT. It was very hot; Light of my Life was starting to feel queasy, so the search was short and finally abandoned. We did see Connaught Place; we had a super lunch at the Mount Nelson of Delhi, and ventured onto the Tube, which is very efficient.   We even hired a cycle rickshaw one evening; this emaciated older man had to really push himself; you know, we aren’t lightweights; this was an experience not to be repeated.  The distance traveled was probably 5km, and he charged us next to nothing.  We visited the Museum of Modern Art and had iced coffee at Starbucks.

George’s health deteriorated on the second day. Temperatures of 48˚C were reported. We really pushed ourselves to see as much as possible, and it took its toll.   Supper at Bukhara that evening was a solemn affair; I was the only one eating! Security around the Diplomatic Colony had been stepped up. We heard that the Chinese Prime Minister was visiting Delhi and that the cricketers were staying at the Hotel. At the same time, we heard that 3 of the Rajasthan Royals players had been arrested for match fixing and were in jail, our team!

My poor precious got the dreaded Delhi Belly, which meant our supplies of medicine came to good use. Still, we also had to stock up, as nothing helped. Pharmacies are very good, and the prices are incredibly reasonable, yet we are being ripped off in this country.  We flew to Mumbai for our connecting flight back to South Africa and opted for a comfortable hotel near the airport.  Of course, by now I was completely confused about flights, planes, and trains, so, not surprisingly, we arrived at the airport 5 hours early, which paid off in the end, as we were upgraded to Business Class and spent a very enjoyable morning relaxing in the Executive suite. For someone who’s mostly fashionably late, this was really great, and I think I’ll be making an extra effort to be early in the future.

India is an assault on all one’s senses. The cacophony of sounds, smells, sights leaves one reeling, but this is why we loved India, we loved the people, its eclectic customs, religions, and traditions are contrary to everything we were brought up to believe, every destination lived up to and exceeded our expectations, and each place had a unique charm. Would we return to India? Yes, but not to the places we’ve visited. I’d like to see the mountains, stay on a houseboat, and take the Darjeeling Express. But this will have to wait; our boat will have to come sailing into Cape Town harbour first, and I think Precious has a yen for the real bush before that happens.  

As we came in to land at Cape Town International airport, I was fortunate enough to have a window seat, and my first sighting was of neat, orderly, clean housing estates, cheerful, proper squatter camps, can you believe that? Blue African skies, order, traffic laws, and no hooters, it was good to be back, believe me, it’s still the best place to be! The first meal would be a RARE 300g Sirloin steak for old Carnivore George!

As you can imagine, we both took thousands of photos. These are slowly being worked through, and eventually, when I’m done, I’d really like to make up a book of our favourite photographs, not just happy snaps but ones that pull at our heartstrings. Once Precious has fully recovered from his bug, he’ll be practicing that intriguing neck dance we so often saw and puzzled over. It’s fascinating, reminds me of the cobra being charmed!