Curry Club - photos from India

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Pushing On

Pushkar, India

'Sit here please foreigner' was the blunt instruction that hit me, as soon as I set foot in the train heading from Jaipur to Ajmer on New Years Day. The words came from a twelve year old boy, sat with his family in a bay just inside the door of the carriage, and I was quite taken aback for a second but decided to oblige as he seemed good natured.

For the two hour journey this cheeky young lad, so curious, and so pleased about meeting a 'foreigner', asked me everything he could possibly think of, holding back nothing whilst the rest of his family sat deadly silent. His English was perfect, as he goes to an 'English medium school' as they call it. The questions flew like shells from a machine gun: 'What country are you from?', 'what state you from?', 'what is your state capital?', 'do you have tsunamis?', 'is it colder than India?', 'do you learn Hindi at school', 'are you married or unmarried?', 'do you have a girlfriend?', 'how old are you?', 'you're 30 and unmarried???!!!'. He quietened down for a while, and I spent time looking out the open window at the increasingly arid scenery. Every so often he'd think of another one: 'Are you veg or non-veg? (I.e.- do you eat meat), 'who is your god?', 'how much is a bottle of water in England?', 'what is your salary?'. As normal in our culture I'd never normally discuss the last one, but I'd heard that Indians openly talk about what they earn, so I saw no harm in making him more aware of the world outside India by answering honestly. As a guide, even a minimum wage salary in Britain will still earn you twice that of a doctor here, but of course living costs are considerably cheaper here so it's all relative.

I'm hoping to try out all seven classes of train whilst in India to see what they're like, and this was the bottom rung - '2nd class unreserved' - the firm-cushioned cattle-class, you associate with images of people hanging off the side and roof. Those are in fact rare occurrences and it was pretty quiet that day, so at £0.50 for a two hour, 135km journey it couldn't be more of a bargain. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I expected, in fact nothing can be anymore after those nasty bus journeys I did in the Himalayas! Once at Ajmer, I took a rickshaw to the bus station, and an hour later was in the small desert town of Pushkar.

The lake at Pushkar

Pushkar is one of the most sacred sites in India for Hindus, and it was quite noticeable, with many Indians visiting to worship in one of the 500 temples or go bathing in the holy waters; doing small ceremonies by its side, and dropping flower petals onto the surface. After finding a hotel amongst then narrow jumbled backstreets that make up the town, I went for a wander around the small lake. I took great care to tread between, and hop over all the goose and pigeon poo as I wandered around the paved lake edge in my socks - a rule for all Hindu and Muslim religious places means you had to remove your shoes, even outside. As the sun set I sat on a ghat (set of steps) in the sun, taking in this interesting scene. 

Lakeside ghats

Vishnu temple

I looked round the rest of the town and started wandering the colourful, narrow and windy backstreets where the locals live. I've become more comfortable with exploring certain areas further afield, now I understand the people and country better, and it was fascinating seeing a glimpse of the humble but happy lives many people live. I've mentioned before that there are a lot of stray dogs on the streets in India, and I've found most of them to be quite placid until now, rarely even barking. Turning a corner in one of said streets, I glimpsed a couple of street dogs asleep on a step. As I passed one of them started barking quite loudly and aggressively without warning, so I walked on quickly. Then suddenly I felt a pain in my left calf. I was confused at first, then I realised the blighter had chased after me and bitten my leg.

In a bit of pain, as well as shock I sat down on some steps. A lady saw it all out of her window, and shouted to her friend who came over, asking in English what happened and could she see the bite. She said one word, one I didn't want to hear - 'hospital'. Her neighbour, a lad of my age arrived home on his motorbike at that moment and she told him the story and ushered me to hop on the bike. We weaved slowly around all the backstreets for a couple of minutes, and arrived at the hospital before I knew it. This kind chap spoke to the receptionist and then led me straight into a doctors consulting room. It wasn't the medical standards I'm used to, but at the same time wasn't at all bad. The doctor saw a tiny trace of blood where the dogs teeth had lightly pierced the skin, and said whilst it didn't look bad, I'd have to have the rabies vaccination as a precaution, as street dogs are sometimes infected - five jabs over the next month! Marvelous. At least his fee was painless at only £1 in cash! The hospital didn't hold the drugs, and I was then taken on the motorbike to a local pharmacy, who called a nurse out. Half an hour later the guy rocked up on his motorbike and gave me an injection in both arms. One of them actually left me with more pain than the dog bite itself! I also asked for something for my cold and was quickly handed a small foil of unidentifiable drugs without charge. Funnily enough I didn't take them. The owner of the hotel where I stayed told me that night that all the dogs in town have supposedly been collected, neutered and vaccinated against rabies in recent times which gives some comfort, but still, you never know.

Nature in harmony. It wasn't this dog, but it's similar looking mate around the corner

It was really great that night to spend a couple of hours on a video call via Skype, to my extended family who were all at my parents for New Years Day lunch, and for a change the quality was pretty clear.

The following morning I hiked to Savitri temple, set atop a single steep lump of a hill, all on its own. Anyone who's read my blogs of late would think I've gone through some religious transformation and become a Hindu. In actual fact they have temples everywhere so sometimes I visit by chance, sometimes cause its an interesting building, and sometimes they're just unavoidable when on top of a hill you want to hike! There was a fantastic view back down over the town, to the surrounding hills and far off into the distance in all directions, and it was quite noticeable here that the town was most definitely in the desert, with sand and scrub all around. 

I was glad to visit the unique town of Pushkar, but knew beforehand that there wasn't that much to see. So less than a day after I arrived, I headed back to Ajmer on the bus with all the locals, and caught the next train to Jodhpur, feeling a little wiser and a little sorer!

Nature in harmony. Wasn't this dog either!

The End / The Start

Jaipur, India 

In this episode of Be There Dreckly... I have my first cutthroat shave by a barber, break into a fort, get stoned by a teenager and celebrate New Years Eve on a rooftop...

After a fantastic Christmas in Agra, I moved a hundred odd miles west to the city of Jaipur, known as the as the Pink City due to the colour of the buildings in it's historic walled centre. Leaving Agra Fort station at daybreak, and only forty minutes late this time, the train passed through mostly wasteland alongside some very poor neighbourhoods. The lack of toilet facilities was very apparent, with hundreds of people squatting and deficating amongst the rubbish by the tracks with no apparent shame.

Once in the countryside though things were a lot more pleasant, mostly flat with the odd isolated hill, with large green fields of crops including rapeseed - a very common crop in India. After only seeing small scale farming until now, it was interesting to see agriculture that appeared to be more mechanised, and with 1.3 billion mouths to feed I guess it needs to be. Once again I took advantage of the lack of health and safety rules in India, and spent an hour or so hanging out the train door, carefully holding the rails both sides and taking in the nice scenery, something I must say I absolutely love doing. I am of course very careful before anyone worries!

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At Jaipur, I walked to the hotel, brushing off heaps of extremely irritating and persistent rickshaw drivers vying for business. They seemed to be worse here than anywhere else so far. I managed to find a room at Pearl Palace, known as one of the best guesthouses in the state of Rajasthan, certainly the best place I've stayed on the whole trip so far, and a bargain at £5 a night for a very swish double. I headed off towards the centre on foot, getting completely lost and taking a cycle rickshaw a couple of miles to get back on track. Some people feel these are degrading for the rider, other say it gives valuable income to some of the poorest people. I agree with the latter, if I was in their position I'd feel no shame in carting people round on a bike to earn a living, and don't tend to haggle the fare as they definitely earn it. It was hilarious to pass two men on bikes, one on each end of a long ladder as they rode with it up a fairly busy road. When they came to turn off across traffic it was nearly a real Laurel and Hardy moment!

I wandered around the centre for a while, passing by the touristy places like the palace and observatory. I've seen enough already on this trip, and only tend to pick and choose only those that really interest me now. What I won't get bored of, is wandering about the real bits of the city where people are going about their daily lives. I've mentioned before cows are free to wander the streets in India, and in Jaipur at times it seemed like the streets were a giant farmyard. I saw cows, oxen, goats, pigs, chickens and even a couple of sheep wandering about, mostly picking scraps out from the rubbish, and occasionally being given a bit of fresh veg or grain.  Apparently most of them have owners, but they just don't have land on which to keep them, and cows being sacred and protected by law, are thus allowed to go wherever they want. 

The small shops of Jaipur were neatly grouped together, so you walk along passing hardware shops, then fabric shops, then paint shops, spice shops, loose tea shops, cabinet shops, ingredients, bangles, cooking oil, and barbers. I looked briefly through the window of a barbers as I passed and ten metres later just stopped. On a whim I decided to go back and have a quick trim. Now, in Sweden the cheapest haircut I saw was £14, in Germany I paid £10, but here, it's the grand sum of £0.50! However, I got what I paid for - the guy spoke good English and seemed to understand when I asked him to cut off a very small amount, only to immediately chop nearly two inches straight off before I could stop him! Once he'd finished, he offered me a cutthroat shave. 

I looked at the Indian guy next to me who was having one, and having never had it before thought it would be a good experience. It's a pretty never racking having a stranger using a razor blade so close to your throat, a real test of faith! He was very particular in applying a base cream, then lathering on shaving foam for minute or two, carefully shaving all over, washing it all off and finally applying aftershave. I was ready to pay up, but he then offered a facial massage. He was a good salesman, and intrigued again I said yes. He took a machine out of the cupboard that looked a like a drill but with a vibrating disc on the end, and slowly worked it all over my face. It felt very unnatural, and when he put right on my ears, quite painful! Finally, he offered a head massage. I'd gone this far, so why not. Once again very pleasant, and with a grand total of £2 (200 rupees) shelled out for this hour-long experience, I left the place feeling like a new man. 

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Nahargarh Fort is set up in the hills and looms over Jaipur itself. The next morning I intended to hike up there rather than take the very long windy route up in a taxi like everyone else. After walking most of the way from the hotel, I took a rickshaw the remaining short distance to the base of the hill, so I could get the driver could show me where the path started, as it was supposedly a bit tricky to find. But like many of these cockroaches, the driver made it his duty to keep stopping and starting at hotels along the way where he'd get commission if I stayed, then persistently try to make me hire his driving services for the whole day. 

He wouldn't take no for an answer and eventually my patience ran out at one such stop, so in a rare bout of rudeness I dropped part of the fare on the ground for him to gather up, and walked off. Hopefully he got the message. However, this meant finding the path was very difficult, and after a lot of searching amongst the jumble of houses, I found what I thought was the route on the map. A local showed me the way up an alley and through someone's backyard, and I scrambled up a steep rocky hill, disappointingly  finding that gate into the fort was locked after half an hours hiking. 'I guide you, fifty rupees' said a couple of kids of around ten, who were hanging round the path. I declined again and again for five minutes, whilst they followed me and grabbed my arm. 

Eventually all I could do to loose them was raise my voice and firmly tell them to leave. As I walked along the wall of the fort trying to find another entrance, next thing I know a few stones seemed to be landing around me. I turned to find one of their teenage mates lobbing golf ball-sized rocks from a fifty metres or so away. I covered my head and moved on rapidly out of his range, but to find no other entrance to the fort. Not wanting to go all the way back down the hill through all the rabble, against my better judgement I reluctantly paid the kids the fifty rupees to show me how to get in. To my surprise one of them clambered up a twelve foot high section of wall into the fort, the only way it transpired. Great. I felt safe doing it, and it was an easy enough climb with lots of hand and footholds, so I was soon in. A few minutes later, looking back down on where I'd first encountered these delinquents, they were back flying kites together, back to being normal kids. The first time in over five months that I've encountered any form of aggression from other people.

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The fort was largely overgrown inside, though the old palace at one end of the complex was interesting enough to look around, a place where an old leader used to keep his many mistresses. It was quite modest as far as palaces go, and not too gaudy and over the top. After leaving it was then apparent that I'd gone up completely the wrong path earlier that day, as I found the actual nicely paved route back to the town! I couldn't get over how many friendly people said hello as I walked past the houses and shops outside of the centre. Nor how many kites were being flown - the sky was full of them!

Back at the hotel, I was unlocking the bedroom door when someone came out of the next room. Well blow me down, it was Wayne who I'd spent Christmas with! He'd just turned up on his bike from Agra. Wayne is a fascinating guy, extremely knowledgable and full of stories. A 43 year old construction project manager from Manchester, he's spent the past four years cycling around Europe, Africa, the Middle East and now Asia, covering over 50,000 miles so far, and now visiting his 91st country! See his blog if you're interested - wmhafrica.blogspot.com . As you might expect we had a lot in common so got on well and hung out together for a couple of days. He had many incredible stories, and to be honest I've not met anyone before with such a good general knowledge of the world and it's history. I learnt more about the establishment of Israel and it's problems, how borders between countries is a fairly modern phenomenon, life in Africa and central Asia, the problems Britain has caused over the years in many problems in the world, and much much more. In return I told him a bit about cows and engineering! 

Monkey temple

After a relaxing breakfast the next morning, we walked, bussed and rickshawed our way to the nearby village of Galta which houses the 'monkey temple' - a complex of buildings in a narrow valley, amongst which thousands of mostly rhesus monkeys hang out. At first it wasn't apparent how many there were, but over time you start to spot them everywhere in the buildings, on the path, in the trees and up in the hills. All pretty passive, and quite a sight. On the way back down, in a grimy little backstreet we found an interesting local cafe by chance, and tried some interesting  new Indian dishes. We had first a giant but very thin omelette which was fried until crispy, and rolled up with curried veg inside, then afterwards a kind of Indian pizza. Both excellent, and I've not seen them anywhere before or since.

The next day was New Years Eve, and I woke up feeling under the weather with a cold, the first of any sort of illness so far on this trip. Probably something to do with sitting in the hotel's rooftop restaurant 'til too late the night before - it's been warmish by day but fairly cold by night. I felt pretty shoddy that day so just took it easy for the day and caught up with some blog and photo stuff mostly. 

I was feeling marginally better by tea time, and ended up spending the evening with people solely from my home country for the first time on this trip - with again Wayne, and an English couple I'd met in the day. The four of us were talking away and having a few beers in the hotel, until suddenly we realised it was 11.30pm and we needed to find a party for midnight. We ended up on the rooftop of the hotel next door, where they had a traditional Indian band playing and about thirty other tourists. At midnight people shouted out the countdown, and the staff set off fireworks from a terrace above. It was the dodgiest fireworks display I've ever witnessed, with the tubes being balanced on the edge of a wall and people running around everywhere, but was very good and certainly memorable, even if it wasn't the biggest, best or wildest New Years event I've been to. 

Midnight fireworks

A big thanks to everyone who has followed the blog through the journey so far. I'm now getting between 8 and 25 visitors a day from a number of counties, which makes it well worth doing, even if it's a bit of a tie sometimes. Stay in touch, your feedback is always appreciated. Happy New Year everybody, and all the best for 2014!

Mahal-y Christmas

Agra, India

I've only spent one Christmas away from home before, in South Australia five years ago. It felt nothing like the traditional festivates I'm used to, but with two friends from home visiting, a fantastic host family, a breakfast beer in the local, and an afternoon swim in the sea, it was a fantastic experience. I still love Christmas and wanted an equally great experience this time away from home. But in India, a country where only a few small pockets of people celebrate it I wasn't sure what to expect at all. In the end I decided I had a better chance of celebrating the day with fellow travellers than locals, and where in India might you have a good chance of bumping into a lot of travellers? The Taj Mahal, in the city of Agra.

Christmas Eve
Setting out from Ramnagar in the north, Agra was to be a nights train journey away with a change half way. But the plan fell apart straight away when the train left Ramnagar station two hours late. Consequently despite allowing good time for it, I'd missed the connection at New Delhi station. In the station building I was passed from pillar to post by staff in my quest to get a refund and catch the next train. On top of this, the station is renowned for being scam capital if the world, so I had one guy after the next pretending he was just being helpful then quietly trying to manipulate me to use his rickshaw, taxi, bus etc. I'm pretty sharp to these things now so quickly brushed most of them off, but it was irritating nonetheless. The next train turned out to be in a few hours time, but there was no guarantee there'd even be availability such is the demand for train seats here. I was told there was a bus leaving at that moment for Agra if I wanted it, and just pleased for a solution, went with it knowing full well I was being overcharged by three or four quid compared with everyone else for the convenience. I didn't care, there was no way I was spending Christmas in Delhi!

The bus journey was a bit slow but interesting nonetheless. I couldn't get over how smoggy Delhi was, even in the nicer and more modern southern outskirts. We passed miles of construction works for a new part of the subway line, a JCB factory producing 3DX diggers, Audi and BMW dealerships, and a few 'Cafe Coffee Day's - Indians version of Starbucks. A sign by the road said 'accidents bring tears, safety being cheers' - I'll listen out for applause the next time I see any safety. I certainly didn't see any on the bus. Everywhere I've been so far it's been apparent that whilst India drives on the left officially, people have no hesitation in flaunting the law and driving the wrong way up dual carriageways as a short cut. However I didn't expect the bus I was on to do it - to allow him to get to a cafe stop on the other side of the road, instead of driving a mile or so up the road and doing a u-turn, he passed through a gap in the central reservation, and drove head on into the oncoming traffic for about quarter of a mile! People are used to such behaviour and just beeped and swerved without effort - its fair to say no-one drives on autopilot here! At 3pm I finally got to Agra - seven hours later than I should have.

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It was not all loss that day though, as my hope for some sort of Christmas celebration panned out well when I found a hotel which was both full of other travellers, and holding a Christmas Part. On the rooftop restaurant of the hotel that night, they'd laid on a buffet of different curries, and I spent the evening hanging out with a great gang, comprising couple of fellow British guys, a German Girl, a Dutch girl and a couple of Israely guys. All were traveling separately having met there that night and had great stories, but one in particular impressed me immensely, as he was on an epic cycle tour - more about that in the next blog. Being India, of course it wasn't a normal party - the staff had lit a fire in a metal tray for warmth, but saw no harm in burning cardboard and plastic bottles, leaving us all bleary eyed and choking at times. They'd also set up a disco and one of the staff played Bhangra songs all night, constantly skipping between songs he didn't like, and having the volume either very quiet or extremely, and I mean ear burstingly, loud with nothing in between. Fatboy Slim he was not, but it was very funny all the same. We finished the night watching the staff competing against each other pulling off their best dance moves, and trying to teach us a few as well with hilarious consequences.

Christmas Eve party

Christmas Day

I awoke and went to the hotel's rooftop restaurant, and and saw it for the first time less than half a mile away. I'd heard hype did nothing to dilute peoples first impressions of seeing it, and I agree completely; for seeing the Taj Mahal for the first time was a true 'wow' moment. That image I'd seen used in glossy brochures for years was actually there in front of me - and it was stunning. Reunited with some of the guys from the previous night we all admired the view and chatted away whilst having breakfast. We then walked a mile or two to have a look around Agra fort - the home of the ruling Mughal leaders in the seventeenth century, and a very grand and well preserved place, full of red sandstone and marble carvings.

Agra Fort

Christmas Lunch, very memorable

Back on another rooftop restaurant near the Taj Mahal it was time for Christmas Lunch. Roast turkey with all the trimmings was a dream too far - instead it was of course curry! Clubbing together and sharing various dishes, the meal still had that communal and happy feel and we had a great laugh. At 3pm it wasn't time to watch the Queen's Christmas message, especially as it was 9.30am at home, but instead time to go visit the Taj Mahal itself and have a proper look. I've never been quite sure of it's purpose, but learnt that it was built in 1653 as a very grand and expensive tomb for the wife of Shah Jahan, the Mughal leader at the time and took over twenty years to build using up to 20,000 labourers. The complex was packed with tourists, both Indian and foreign as Christmas Day is an official holiday in India, though with only a tiny majority being Christian it isn't really celebrated as such. Walking through the entrance gate came the next wow moment, seeing close up the perfect symmetry of the building in front of us, faced entirely in white marble with delicate colored inlays and carvings. We wandered around for a couple of hours taking it all in, joining the thousands of tourists in snapping a load of photos. 

The Taj Mahal - there she is, in all her beauty 

After another curry with the gang that evening, I joined up with my family back in Cornwall via the wonders of Skype, who'd just retired to the lounge at my Auntie and Uncle's place after the big roast, The video connection was pretty terrible due to the slow internet here, but it was fantastic to be part of their celebrations for an hour or two. All in all a very different, yet fantastic Christmas Day.

Boxing Day

The Christmas gang slowly started to disband in different directions. But with Eva from Holland and Roshan, a fellow Brit remaining, we went to the nearby town of Fatehpur Sikri for the day on the ever rattly local bus, and later met with Wayne who'd cycled there. This was a small town of two halves - the bustling but quite poor current town centre, and the very grand sixteenth century fort looming above. I was quite struck by how many children of various ages were begging or trying to sell stuff around the fort, but despite wanting to help, it's a bad idea to give them anything as it only encourages dependency on such behaviour and keeps them out of school. The fort itself wasn't too dissimilar to Agra fort the day before as it was built by the same Mughal leaders, and architecturally was equally as grand and impressive set upon a hilltop. Many Indian tourists were out and about, with a number of the women in brightly coloured sari's, with (temporary) henna tattoos covering their hands and feet. It was also great to spend the day out again with some great fellow travellers, something I've not had the opportunity to do for quite some time.

At Fatehpur Sikri with Roshan and Eva

Locals at Fatehpur Sikri 

The day after Boxing Day

Just Eva and I remained at the hotel out of the original group, and with a few other things we both wanted to see around Agra apart from the Taj Mahal, we headed out together for the day. So many people visit the city just for the one big attraction so it was quite notable how quiet the other parts were. We walked first to the slightly run down mosque of Jama Masjid, then another large and delapadated tomb from the same era as the Taj. I'm not that much of a history buff, so the tomb itself didn't interest me much, but it was fascinating to watch a group of local farmers at work on the patch of land below by the riverbank, and cows bathing in the river. They weren't farmers as we'd think of it, but a couple of families looking after a few cows. We watched them laboriously shaping cow muck into discs to be dried out, and collecting some dried previously ready to be burnt as heating fuel. On the walk back to the road Eva spotted through a doorway, a small scale shoe factory and we asked if we could go inside to see it for a couple of minutes. The three guys were quite welcoming, and it was fascinating to see them hand crafting what seemed to be good quality shoes.

Small riverside farm making dung fuel

Shoe factory

We walked a little further on to Itimad-ud-Daulah also known as 'Baby Taj' - a tomb for one of the government ministers of the same era, and equally well crafted but even more detailed than more well known one. A rickshaw ride later through the chaotic and congested streets of Agra, we were at a cafe next door to our hotel where we ate and chatted for a few hours. Eva leads quite an interesting life in Amsterdam, working part time in a hostel, and part time on a couple of charity projects. She founded and runs foodsharing.nl - a Dutch-only website where you can advertise any surplus food you have at home that is going out of date, and donate it to locals. The interesting thing is that it's more about reducing waste than charity, thus removing the stigma sometimes associated with such schemes, and I was really impressed by her work. We had lots in common and talked for hours on all sorts of subjects, but early the next morning we were both going in different directions. So it time to say goodbye, and finally the end of the Christmas gang. I was really unsure how Christmas in India would pan out, and in the end, thanks to the great group of people I shared it with, it was way better than I could ever expect. 

Christmas Day at Agra fort - school kids on a visit wanting their photo taken with us.

Agra fort

Christmas lunch!

Four of the gang, with a tagalong

Cheeeeeese

Sari Safari

Corbett National Park, India

On safari? In India? When I first found last year such a thing was possible, it was straight on my mental to-do list, and this week I was finally able to don my binoculars, pith hat and khaki clothes and get among the tigers. If only I did actually had such an outfit to wear.

So back in Rishikesh having come back from the volunteering project the night before, the day was all nicely planned out. Catch up on writing for a couple of hours then leave by lunchtime for the next stop - Corbett National Park. But it was one of those days where extra things came up and everything took longer than planned, and at 6pm I still hadn't left, so it was another night there and a vow to leave first thing in the morning. 

It took the whole next day to get to Ramnagar, starting with a walk to the rickshaw stand followed by some tense negotiations, a rickshaw ride across town, a local bus an hour or so to Haridwar, then another rough and ready local bus for the five hour journey to Ramnagar. You know how TV is a more sped up and exciting version of real life? Well this journey actually felt like watching an exciting live travel programme - it was action packed the whole way, with something happening all the time. If I was reviewing it the only thing I'd criticise was it's lack of plot! First off - I've seen plenty of drivers on the wrong side of the road this past few weeks, but shortly into the journey as we drove along a stretch of quietish and slow dual carriageway, where there's just dirt between the roads, a guy in a jeep swung over the bit in the middle and drove towards the oncoming traffic just because the surface was better. Whilst everyone beeped as normal, they just causally slowing and dodging round him. Next - I've not talked much about smells in India, but on a daily basis you encounter a few, mostly bad ones. From the smoke of someone burning rubbish in the street, to a heavily polluted stream, to dirty exhaust fumes. In this case when stopping at a pretty rough and ready roadside cafe, the horrible stench of stale urine. Some of the toilets you come across are classed as 'deluxe' toilets (which are normal by western standards), but some are pretty darn horrible like these. Though I must say nothing I've found yet has been as filthy as the toilets at Glastonbury Festival! 

We continued on, and realising this is my first taste of rural India outside the Himalayas, passed a lot of fields full of sugarcane along the way, with many heavily overloaded tractors full of harvest crops pulling onto the road from small fields. In a village we passed a guy on a bike selling sweets to kids through the school gates, a pile of rubbish by the roadside being picked through by pigs, dogs and people, and soon after, a dead cow missing all it's skin and being ravaged by dogs. We passed lots of small but neatly laid out fields of vegetables, and carefully stacked discs of animal manure being dried to use as fuel for heating. Men in their boxer shorts were lathered up and washing in a lake, a number of brick factories had chimneys smoking away, and a bunch of young kids seemed to be having fun splashing about in some mud pools in a field. The only 'normal' things amongst all these colourful goings on were the petrol stations. Over the day I must have seen nearly ten cricket games of cricket being played by young lads, wherever they could find a bit of free space - as I've said before Indians love cricket. At one point a lashed up cable that crossed above the road was hanging a bit low, and caught the bus roof which drove on regardless and ripped it in half. An entertaining journey for sure, and a fascinating insight into rural India. 

I arrived in the typical Indian town of Ramnagar, a jump off point for Corbett National Park, and after looking at a few ropey rooms in different places, found one on the Main Street that would just about do the job. It was that noisy that it seemed like I was camping on the road, and turned out not to have hot water included, but was clean and would do for the night. The following morning I went to the National Park reception when it opened at ten, and encountered some of the most confusing and frustrating Indian organisation yet. The place was supposed to open at 10am but with a big quest formed outside they turned up about half an hour late. Inside, no-one came to the particular counter I needed for nearly an hour, I was then told I should have booked online (nothing about that on the website) and they said they were counting to see if there was a quote of permits available for the day. I asked again shortly after and they said come back at midday. I returned then, and thankfully they had a cancellation so I could visit, but I had to organise my own jeep myself. Rather than than just give me a single charge as you'd sensibly expect, I was then led through how I needed to pay an entry fee for myself, an entry fee fee for the driver, an entry fee for the jeep itself, then a fee to hire a park guide, a dorm bed, a housekeeping charge, parking for the jeep, and finally the hire of the jeep. All explained in the most confusing way, involving going forward and back between a number of different people, some official and some trying to make some money as a driver, and with it never clear which is which. Four hours later after cutting through all the crap, many groans and reluctantly paying for a jeep and driver to myself as I was unable to share, we were on our way to the jungle. How difficult could they make something so simple?

 

Heading into the park

My jeep driver Puran was a very friendly 43 year old local guy with pretty basic English, but a warm heart and keen eye for wildlife. He chatted away and after ten miles up the road towards the park asked if I fancied driving. Errrr... Sure! So for the first time in five months I was behind the wheel on a rural Indian road, which felt a bit strange, a bit fun, and probably a bit illegal. A few miles later when we got to the gate of the park, the guards were shouting all sorts of things at us in Hindi - turns out they definately didn't want me driving in the park! The entrance gateway was huge and imposing, and passing through it felt like we were entering Jurassic Park, though hopefully without Jeff Goldblum or the man-eating dinosaurs. After signing in and paying up, we ventured down the narrow dirt track into the heart of Corbett National Park, heading ten miles or so to Dhilaka. The jungle was dense on both sides, and we went through the rocky bed of one dried out river bed after the next, passing tens of termite mounds both sides. Puran had a very keen eye for spotting things, and the first was some sambar deer - a stocky breed with a dark grey coat, then some jungle fowl - a brightly colored type of wild chicken. We went down some little side roads a few times to the main river that runs through the park, and Puran eyed many large fish then a couple of fairly massive turtles just under the surface of the water. 

 

Termite mounds

At dusk we arrived at Dhikala - a purpose built village of concrete buildings surrounded by an electric fence to keep the wildlife out. Except the monkeys who always found a way in. It was a pretty quiet evening hanging out in the restaurant bar chatting to a group of Indian tourists who approached me, consisting a friendly but arrogant head of a town council, and couple of blokes in their twenties who were on their twenty-sixth visit to the park! As ever, everyone I met was fascinated by meeting a foreigner, interested in my trip, and remembered my name straight away. They love foreigners.

At the crack of dawn the next day, I was sat ready for a different sort of safari - high up on the back of an elephant. This was the first time I've ridden on one, and I felt so small in the presence of this mighty and powerful, yet calm animal. With four of us on board, we set off following a procession of four other elephants out into the long wild grasslands around the camp, hoping in particular to spot a tiger of which there were a hundred and sixty odd running wild around Corbett. After half an hour or so our luck came in and after hearing the call of deer running away, we spotted for a fleeting moment the sight of a tiger flashing past a gap, slowly stalking it's prey. It was over way too fast. We tried to find it again with no avail, and now away from the rest of the elephants, went off into the nearby jungle to see what we could see. Another half an hour or so later we turned onto another track and there were sudden whispers amongst the guys - there on the path about two hundred metres in front of us it was; a female Bengal tiger, walking slowly along the track looking around the meat kitchen for breakfast. We followed her for around two minutes, trying not to disturb her by keeping a distance and staying quiet, before finally she strolled off into the dense undergrowth. It turns out we were the only ones that day to really see a tiger properly and I was the only one to get some photos, so I went away feeling pretty chuffed.

 Early morning at Corbett

 

Feel the power!

Not exactly worthy of a photo award, but there she is, the Bengal Tiger we saw

After breckfast back at the camp I met up with Puran, who drove us further into the grasslands in the jeep to see what else we could spot. Having a jeep to myself felt unnecessarily lavish, and was a bit on the costly side but due to the crazy way the park works, the only way I could do it and enjoyable nonetheless. By this time of day, the tigers seemed to have gone off for a doze as they do when it warms up, but we still managed to see a really good variety of other animals and birds that I'd not seen before. storks, egrets, and laughing thrushes. White breasted and common kingfishers. A number of hawk eagles, fish eagles and a mongoose. We went down to the muddy area around a lake, and found a pair of mugger crocodiles resting in the mud, waiting to pounce, then on the way back to the camp; two adult and a baby wild elephants. What a morning!

 

Puran taking us through the grasslands area 

After lunch it was time to start heading out of the park and Puran slowly drove along, stopping every so often to see if he could spot anything before continuing on. The wildlife became more sparse, seeing only the footprints of first a tiger, then a black bear (who hunt by night). Nearly out,the final sightings were a tawny fish owl and later a brown faced owl, sat motionless but ready for action in a tree. At dusk it was sadly over and we were back at Ramnagar, ready for me to catch a train later that night. 

I'm by no means knowledgable nor fanatical on wildlife generally, but I loved the process of tracking down and identifying all these often exotic creatures as most people would. A brilliant experience and worth all the hassle.

 

Mugger crocodile

 Samber deer

 Fresh tiger footprint on the track

 Spotted deer - the most common animal in the park

 Wild elephants

 Stork

Flood Relief

Kandara village, Himalayas, India

After doing a jungle hike a few days before near Rishikesh, as you may recall from my previous post, completely by chance I'd met a Director of Indian charity 'Asha-Kiran'; a very pleasant chap called Manish. He offered me the chance to help them out for a couple of days, delivering supplies to the region that was affected by the devastating floods in June this year, which killed over 20,000 people - a startling figure. I thought about it for a while then decided how could I not go - here I am roaming about the place for my own benefit with all the time in the world, whilst less fortunate people nearby are missing some of the basics of life - it would be selfish not to. 

We planned to meet in Rishikesh at 6am. Feeling shattered after just three hours sleep, due to having to sort out insurance and credit card problems the night before, I was there on time only to get a text saying they'd be an hour late. Great start. I went and had a chai at a small shop up the street, and despite the time of day and darkness, there were five men in their sixties and seventies chatting away. Who'd get up at that time just for that I pondered. One of them sat down and shuffled beside me, looking at my phone screen to see what I was doing. As I may have noted before, Indian people have no qualms about staring, being nosy, being noisy, interrupting, talking over each other, asking personal questions, or invading your personal space. The concept of manners doesn't exist as such, but manners is a term that determines what is socially acceptable, and with all of the above being considered fine here, in reality you can't call it wrong. It's just their culture, their way. Through hand gestures I could see the chap was very interested in what I was doing, so I showed him a few photos of my travels over the years, whilst he unsucessfully tried again and again to use the touch screen, like a baby trying to walk for the first time, and relayed the place names to his friends with excitement. 

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With daylight now broken, the car arrived and I met the others who were also heading to the flood zone - Manish, Victor - a Spaniard who was the other Director of the charity, three local Indian guys who were also volunteering, as well as the driver who they'd hired along with the car. We headed North out of town, and I could see straight away it was going to be a long and tiring drive - along the windy contours of misty jungle-clad valleys, following the river Ganges towards it's source. Along the way there were numerous road safety signs saying things like 'driving faster can cause disaster', sections where the surface turned to mud and gravel, with speed bumps and pot holes that were back breaking to go over. We passed packs of mules heading to the hills with bricks and sand in their saddle bags, people using village pumps, and a huge hydro electric project. Groups of women carried huge piles of grass and plants on their backs along the roads to feed their cows, other women crouched on the verge smashing rocks salvaged from the riverbed into pieces of gravel, which looked like a desperate existence to me. A small truck pulled out of a side junction without looking and we braked hard to a halt, stopping just in time. Further on, passing through a town, I couldn't help but smile when we drove past a barbers shop that also sold brass instruments - what a great combo!

The Ganges river

 

Women en-route, collecting grass for their cows

After about five hours we came into the start of the area really affected by the floods, and the devastation was very apparent. Some low lying houses along the Ganges lay crumbled, others remained covered to nearly the first floor in silt. There were landslides everywhere. The road we were on was built into the hillside, and in many places one lane had been completely washed away leaving us some hair raising squeezes along the remaining lane, with a large drop down to the river beside. In a few places the road had been washed away completely, and bulldozers had temporarily cut a dirt track further into the hill, or laid a track along the riverbed for us to pass on. It was all a total mess, and whilst some of it was being rebuilt, it seemed very obvious that the government weren't doing nearly enough, not even roughly maintaining these temporary roads.

 

Breathe in, 'cause there's a bi drop the other side

We eventually left the road that we'd followed along the Ganges for hours, and headed up a snaking road into the mountains. As ever there were big drops, narrow windy roads with poor surfaces, and no barriers. It felt like I was in an episode of 'Worlds Most Dangerous Roads', but thankfully after twenty minutes or so, and seven hours after leaving, we reached our destination - a small and remote mountain village called Kandara. Being so far up in the hills it wasn't apparent that the flood had directly affected them, but I'm sure it must have in different ways and if nothing else they were extremely poor. Our task as I found out then for the first time, was to issue blankets, warm jumpers, wooly hats and gloves to remote families who lived and farmed in different places in the surrounding hills. To keep things simple, each family had been asked to send just one family member and in most cases it was the women, who were all sat by the street waiting when we arrived in their brightly colored saris, trousers and headscarfs, chatting amongst each other, all seemingly ageless to me. We unloaded the contents of the lorry which had travelled behind us into what I guess was the village hall, then it was time for speeches. First from Manish, then a couple of the village leaders, then the local councillor, with bursts of applause at various points, but with all of it being said in Hindi I had no idea what was going on.

 

Village ladies 

 

Village men

We got to work, each of the seven of us performing some small task. Mine initially was folding the blankets in half and passing them on, then later taking mens clothing packs out of the sack when they asked for one. It was very undemanding and really there were way too many of us, but I guess they didn't really know what to expect, and better too many than too little. I couldn't help but be impressed with both how noble the cause was, and how well organised it all was. It was great to be part of, but made me think that if the people were that grateful for blankets, that meant they'd been sleeping in cold beds for goodness knows how long. Such simple things, things we take completely forgranted. All the unnecessary things in our lives we think we need, but really don't, and these people don't even have a warm bed to sleep in. It was therefore touching to think of the hundreds of people here possibly having their first warm nights sleep for a while.

Bundles of goods, fresh off the lorry

Every villager had to sign some paperwork to say what they'd received for charity accountability purposes, and I realised this was the first time in my life I'd actually come across illiterate people. Unable to write, they signed for the items using their fingerprint as a signature by pressing it into an inkpad. It was getting dark and the hall didn't have lights, so the locals found some cables and light bulb holders and lashed it all together; I kid you not, using matches to melt the off the cable ends instead of pliers, all whilst the cables were live! I didn't spot it, but Victor actually saw one of them jump a little as he gave himself an electric shock. After half an hour the lights fizzled out and with no-one bothering to fix them, we were back to torch lights. 

By about 8pm we were done, and with hundreds of people satisfied we went off to the restaurant. Actually, calling it a restaurant is a bit of a stretch of the term, as this was a recently converted concrete chicken shed, still full of building materials and junk, with a few tatty stools with an old bench serving as a table. It was more a case of being some bloke in the village who opened part of his house to the occasional visitor. Until then in India I'd been very careful about where and what I ate, as cleanliness and hygiene in the kitchen is something that doesn't often exist, but here with no other option I was at their mercy. The food was pretty basic though tasty, and the chicken didn't really represent chicken as I knew it, but I awoke alive the next day, always a good thing of course. 

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Our accommodation was a couple of rooms above the village hall which served as an occasional guest house. Victor and I being the foreigners as they like to refer to us, were given the VIP treatment and given a room with an actual bed each, although when I came to get in I found under the bedsheet was nothing but a sheet of plywood! Some padding out was required. As a testament to how tolerant Indian people are - the four other volunteers - all aged between forty and seventy, and a mix of charity director and teachers, happily slept in the other room all in a line on thick blankets laid on the concrete floor. Something you could never imagine with people of such standing in the western world - no charity money wasted on excesses here.

At 6am the next day I was rudely awoken by a banging on the door - 'good morning sir, chai. hello sir, chai, morning'. I opened the door and it turned out to be the chap from next door, who decided that we didn't need sleep at that time of day, but a cup of tea. I downed it and dozed off again. At 8am as my alarm was going off, he came round again with another one - alI can say is bless him! After sorting out a few odds and ends with the goods we'd delivered, we had breakfast at the chicken shack - a particularly spicy portion of curried cauliflower and potato served with some chapattis (bread). I'm pretty used to spicy breakfasts now.

With our job done, we headed back towards Rishikesh down the same sketchy roads, and as we travelled, I saw for the first time a traditional Indian cremation taking place on the gravel and rocks of the riverbed. A pyre of wood is built right beside the waters edge with the body inside, then set alight, with a small memorial service being held a few metres away whilst the body is burnt. We continued on, and being sat in the back of the 4X4 this time where the roof is lower, and with no seatbelts to hold me down (standard), I hit my head quite hard on the roof a few times when we went over particularly vicious bumps which was as painful you might expect. I ended up having to slouch as much as I could to survive! We had a few blankets and clothes left over, and Manish made a few enquiries at suitable places along the way, eventually deciding to give them to an orphanage that we passed. We all went into a meeting with the manager for a while, all in Hindi, and then unloaded the goods. It wasn't too bad a place for the poor kids to live by local standards, and the volunteers there were very grateful for the donation.

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We continued to the next town, stopping briefly in the local government offices to hand over our paperwork to the disaster coordinater for the affected region, which was all spoken in English, as is all government business. Further on Manish pointed out a farm up in the hills which the local guys told him produced certain items of fruit and veg exclusively for the Queen of England which are flown across. How exotic ma'am. Throughout the journey I chatted with Victor (24) who had once stayed a summer in Torquay, and in his excellent English asked all manner of cultural questions about the UK that I couldn't answer, such as 'how do you spell eye by gum, and what does it mean' - as you can see couldn't answer very well on either front. He also said he thought English food is rubbish (as most Europeans seem to say to me) and that it was weird how we have carpet everywhere in the house, especially in when in bathrooms - 'so disgusting'. Another example of us thinking everything we do is normal, when it isn't necessarily, it's just our way.

We eventually got back to Rishikesh at about 8pm, and after saying our farewells, I headed back to the hotel I'd previously stayed at, greeted at the door by handshakes and smiles from the elderly owners; a lovely couple. The volunteering work, whilst not in anyway difficult, had been a very interesting experience. It's something I'd been meaning to look into doing here and may well do a bit more sometime. It made me appreciate even more what a great standard of living we have (though I'm reminded daily of that anyway) and it was truly a humbling experience.