Gandhi's House

Ahmedabad, India

In this blog... I go to Gandhi's house, visit a step well and, errr, eat a pizza.

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After the lake cruise at Udaipur, I took a mid-afternoon bus to Ahmedabad, about five hours south. Ahmedabad is a typical Indian commercial and industrial city, and not really a common stop off for tourists, but I wanted to break up the long journey south to Mumbai, and there were a couple of things worth stopping a day for. Which ended up being three. 

Saturday 11th January

Motorway services

As ever, there were a few interesting happenings on the dual carriageway on the way. The road was well built and fast, and we passed along scrubby hills, later followed by flat arable land. A jeep overtook our bus, and despite doing sixty miles an hour down the outside lane, had four people sat on the roof and one sat on top of the spare wheel, which certainly made me double take and smile. A cow walked up the fast lane towards oncoming traffic which swerved around without eyebrows being raised. Brightly painted lorries overtook, hooting their two tone horns. We braked hard for a very out-of-place and unmarked set of speedbumps on a fast section, presumably there to slow everyone for the corner - what's wrong with using a sign?! At late dusk, a tractor with a trailer packed full of people, pulled across the centre of the road, and onto our lane with no lights on. Lights seem to be very much optional until needed here, only used when you can no longer actually see.

Our driver was typically lacking in skill as well, constantly swerving out violently to overtake and therefore making the bus lurch to one side. At one point something hit the roof, possibly a tree branch, and immediately after, strangley the whole cabin filled with smoke, which soon dispersed when everyone slid open the windows. For some peculiar reason the bus terminated about eight miles outside of Ahmedabad, which annoyed me greatly since I'd booked a bus to Ahmedmabad, and not 'eight miles north of Ahmedmabad by a hardware shop'. I took a conveniently-waiting rickshaw for the final leg, with him trying to scam me as usual, until I asked the bus driver the distance and worked out what it should cost, finally agreeing the right price.

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I found a hotel in the very noisy city centre known as Lal Darwaja, and after moving to the second room since the first was missing an entire window pane (fairly handy in a city as noisy as this), I checked in. This process in India is always typically beaurocratic, requiring you to fill in a 'foreign guest' form followed by a separate guest book, both requiring every conceivable detail including your age and marriage status, followed by them photocopying your passport and visa and submitting it to the Police. Here in the state of Gujarat, I interestingly also had to give my left thumbprint as well, apparently a security precaution, but gave the feeling of checking-in at jail. That night, I was still recovering following a week of 'irregular bowel movements' and couldn't face Indian food, so went to a nearby pizza shop. What they cooked up wasn't a bad effort, though Indians are definately best at their own food - though at £1.50 (150 rupees) I couldn't complain too much. Just as I went to bed at midnight that night, what sounded like a live drumming ensemble, or possibly a crew of jackhammers, started up on a street nearby, but thankfully stopped after half an hour. Indians are so tolerant to noise (read: totally oblivious) and seem to have no understanding that their neighbours might want to sleep.

Sunday 12th January

The guys at the bus stop in Gandhinagar

I was heading for Adalaj step well, about fifteen miles north of town and walked to the local bus station to find a way there. There's never any signs to tell you which bus to get on, so I asked around until a conductor told me I was on the right one. Which it actually wasn't it transpired. I ended up another five miles north of where I should have been in the city of Gandhinagar, and was pointed not across the bus yard, but to a dusty car park along the road for the connecting bus. Once there, a group of about ten guys were sat around some shacks idly chatting, and enthusiastically called me over, with one of them turning out to be the conductor. In broken English they asked the usual set range of curious questions, and kindly provided a chai (masala milk tea) in return. Friendly bunch. 

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Adalaj step well

I eventually ended up at Adalaj step well. A step well is exactly as it sounds - a well, with a stepped embankment surrounding it, built in a range of styles. This was a particularly grand and impressive one, built from sandstone in the sixteenth century by a king in honor of his wife, with extremely detailed carvings and mouldings. An.interesting sight, and pleasing to see that it was well preserved. After an hour I walked back to the main road and a local lad helpfully hailed the right bus back to the city. It was so jam-packed, as they often are, that I had to sit right by the windscreen on the engine cover, facing backwards and grabbing the handrail. The hot seat you might say. I stopped for lunch in a fairly smart looking restaurant (though still a bargain) and tentatively tested my stomach with a thali - a set lunch comprising a range of spicy soup, curries and accompaniments, washed down with a lassi - basically a glass of yoghurt by my reckoning. I didn't really enjoy the meal for once, and wasn't sure whether to blame that on the food, or my still recovering intestines. Probably the latter.

Gandhi's bedroom and living space

I walked to Ghandi Ashram (Sabarmati), where Ghandi himself lived for thirteen years between 1917-1930. An ashram to remind you, is an Indian concept, a spiritual commune where like-minded people live, pray, study and work. The ashram is now closed and preserved as it was, with a fascinating museum within on Gandhi during this period of his life, and the display of his bedroom made it clear to see the simple and unmaterialistic life he lived, whilst devoting his life to freeing India from a British rule. His approach was through protest and non-violence, and really struck a chord with the world. And worked, for India was set free from Britain in 1947. I was quite taken by what I'd learnt about the great man, an inspiring figure around the world.

I'd planned to catch a night bus to Mumbai that evening, but back in the room just felt shattered, and lacking in appetite, eventually having another small and boring pizza. Funnily enough, the illness and therefore delay of my departure, had a silver lining a couple of days later as you'll see in the next blog.

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Monday 13th January

With nothing else I wanted to see in Ahmedabad, I took the opportunity to catch up on writing my blogs, but not until I'd spent an hour sat in a cafe waiting for my breakfast to turn up. Despite complaining twice and being told to wait, after an hour it turned out they'd not actually written down nor passed the order to the kitchen - the second time in as many weeks this has happened. Writing down orders here is rare. Delirious from hunger, I walked out in disgust and instead ate chapattis with veg curry next door. The rest of the day was spent sitting in my hotel room with the windows wide open, letting in the glorious warmth. I realise sometimes I pack too much into my time without a break, so it was good to relax for the day and just write. And after a couple of months of often being in the cold, the heat was a pleasant change. 

The chaotic city markets

Around 5pm I was done, and decided to go for a stroll round the nearby street market; as usual hectic, noisy and dirty, and full to the brim with clothes, housewares and every bit of tat you could possibly want, as well as the usual crowds of thousands of people with motorbikes ignorantly beeping to try to pass between. I was a both a bit shocked and amused (does that make bemused?) when I found a guy sat on the pavement, legs dangling in the rubbish filled gutter, whilst another man sat alongside, cross legged in the lotus position applying a tattoo to the guys forearm, using just a little battery powered kit. I then realised this wasn't just one guy, but a whole line of around twenty of them - an extra-hygienic pavement tattoo parlour. He asked if I wanted one. Funnily enough I declined.

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A strange perculiarity was the amount of belt shops nearby to my hotel, there must have been over twenty of them. Having made do with a crappy plastic belt since loosing mine in Germany months ago, I took advantage of this and ironically despite the huge choice, bought the simplest brown leather one I could find for just £3 (300 rupees), which the owner even tailored for me by cutting to size and putting an extra hole in.

I was looking at going to Alang the next day, a town six hours away where the world's largest ship breaking facility  can be found, a place where old ships from mostly developed countries come to die due to the much lower cost. This is due to both the low labour cost, and the blind eye often turned here to safety and environmental implications that couldn't happen at home. Passing your own problems to someone else basically, at a big cost to their health and environment - manynpeoplemdie there every year. It comprises a six mile long beach, where they intentionally drive ships at full tilt into the sand to allow them to be dismantled. I've seen a documentary on it before and it looked an amazing place to visit, but because of said issues, security is now very tight so I wouldn't have seen that much given the long journey. I consoled myself by reading some great blogs on it, by a retired American captain who goes there to buy salvaged goods to sell on, and also a backpacker who visited in 1998. Both very interesting. 

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Having a TV in my room for a rare change allowed me to flick around the Indian Sky TV channels that night, which were mostly in Hindi with the odd US import, and on the whole pretty cheeses and rubbish. After some time without seeing a movie, I was pleased to find and watch the Sly Stallone movie 'Lock Up' though, which despite being in English, had English subtitles - maybe Indians struggle with the accents or something. 

After a bit more reading about the city I was in that night, I found by chance my timing coincided with a big event, so despite not really liking this particularly dirty and noisy place, decided it was definitely worth adding yet another day. 

Getting a quick tattoo done... by a guy sat on the pavement