caravanman
Engineer
Tidying up some old links, I find the original website for my India trip has vanished... this is part one of a trip from a couple of years back. Pics to follow.
Friday 25/11/11
I have been in India since Tuesday morning, and while I am a bit tired for composing a witty travel report just now, I am aware that I need to get a few “notes” down before I forget too much ...
Looking back, I had a nice afternoon with my son Aidan on Sunday, but slept badly on the Sunday night, and felt quite groggy after the evening’s beers and just 4 hours sleep. I bought a few last minute items on the way to the rail station, such as a luggage chain and some mosquito repellent. I treated myself to a decent pair of headphones too, before boarding the train to Manchester.
Easy check in. Noticed my case weighed almost 18 kilo, feel quite ashamed to be dragging so much stuff around behind me! I had been assigned an aisle seat which suited me fine. Flight took off pretty well on time, a relief as there were fog problems at several other airports, and the train trip had been shrouded in fog most of the way.
The flight was fine, my only complaint was that the “entertainment” was piss poor, and that passengers were not offered a drink of water during the 10 hour flight. Yes, we had a free meal, but I seem to think that one should drink plenty of water?
I had two pints of Guinness in the bar before we took off so after a longish flight and not much rest the night before , I was pretty knackered by the time I got off the plane.
Smokey India, as that forgotten scent seeps into the plane, we pile onto the buses to the terminal... an early query about health and safety as our bus and a baggage tractor almost collide... Small terminal, I was lucky to get in a faster line for immigration which held home coming Indian nationals off a different flight from the Gulf. Lots of huge shopping bags with them!
Indian film festival starting in Goa next day, could be why my flight was more expensive than most other dates?
I had some idea of hanging around in the comfort of the airport for several hours, before heading off to Vasco da Gamma rail station for my afternoon train to Delhi... but there was not any comfort to be had there there, so I took a taxi to the station straight off. Cost Rs. 100, which was quite good value for the distance... Odd how many things cost “Rs 100” when any price is queried by moi!
Goa (Madgaon) station was quite reasonable when we caught a train there a few years back, Vasco de Gamma station is a bit grotty, as is the area around the station. To be fair, I was almost sleepwalking when I got there, and my perceptions were further coloured by the thought that it was 7.30 am and my train was due at 3pm.
I sat on the station steps in the shade, and thankfully, apart from a few offers of taxis, and curious glances for being rather warmly dressed, I was hassle free, Goans being fairly used to tourists.
After a while I got a second wind and had a look around, noticing that there were railway retiring rooms at the station. These are cheap basic rooms or dorms where you can rest up for a few hours in a horizontal position, something with massive appeal for me at that point!
Enquiring at the apropriate office, I found that all rooms were fully booked, but was informed that I could use the general waiting room. I decided to sit on a seat on the platform, and was soon engaged in conversation by a local man, a rice farmer amongst other occupations. He also spoke French and was engaged to escort French tourists on an ad hoc basis. He had visited Europe, and was rather open minded, and left leaning. He felt that the Indian belief in Karma was an excuse for wealthy people to be greedy. I came away knowing a little more about the problems of rice farmers in the region.
The station was a flurry of platform cleaning by sweepers and security was suddenly put into operation... a hitherto open platform was sealed off by a couple of police and a scanner device of dubious efficiency. The toilets were given a thorough clean (yippee!) and before long an inspection tour by several rail big wigs began.
Do these folk really think that the stations are clean and well run when they are not due for inspection... I guess it showed me that things can improve, if only for a few hours... the toilets were back to grotty once the visit was over!
The station ticket inspector was concerned that I did not have any record of my seat or coach number on my rail pass, and kindly went out of his way to find it for me amongst the mass of paperwork in his office.
3pm and I board the train, my berth is a lower one, facing one opposite with one berth above each of the lower bunks too. Across the corridor there is a similar two tier arrangement, this occupied by a talkative young couple... continuous chatting to each other... bit of a surprise, as most Indian couples don’t tend to be over chatty to each other in public, in my experience... more like flirty westerners!
Stowed my stuff under the seat, and watched the scenery pass on the very short ride to Margoa, where the opposite bunks were taken by a guy who looked to be in his early thirties, and his young son. They spoke English although I found their accents a little hard to follow. I latter found out that they were on their way to a family wedding. The man was involved in the wholesale shoes trade, and treated me to a chai and biscuits. The chai and food vendors appeared early on, and I was invited to place my advance orders for “veg cutlets” and “veg evening meals”. I was not asked for any money for the food, so imagined that it must be included in my fare. Bit surprised to get a request for Rs. 330 towards the end of the trip, but it was only about £4 ($6) so pretty good value.
After the evening meal on the first day I headed for the toilet, when I returned a guy came up and asked was anything missing? I didn’t twig what he was on about, but after a moment or two it became clear that my wallet was indeed missing. After I confirmed this to him, assuming that he had seen someone pinch it, he produced from behind his back... it had fallen from my pocket en route to the loo. Felt quite warm towards my fellow travellers, and rather stupid too!
Being so tired, I just crashed out early, and had a good nights sleep, I had a vague impression of someone using the bunk above mine during the night, but it was empty again at first light.
One of the really sad things about Indian trains, from my perspective, is that the window glass is often painted over with a yellow tint to reflect the heat back out, but that makes the scenery outside very hard to see... such a shame for us photo mad tourists!
Slept well again on the second night, waking about 6am in Agra station. Train was pretty late at this point due to fog... apparently northern India has had fog and mist for a few days, and several trains were cancelled. We continued to trundle towards Delhi at a slow pace all morning, and pulled in 6 hours late, a different terminal from New Delhi, where my hotel is located.
Had the usual hassle over the cost of a ride to the hotel, but settled quickly as I was afraid of loosing my reservation by arriving late. Good fun riding through the chaos of Delhi traffic.
Ginger hotel, a rather bland travel lodge type of place, but being India, it had a little bit more character. Quite pleased to see a “Comesum” snack place there too, where I enjoyed a thali amongst other good meals.
This particular hotel is 5 minutes walk from New Delhi station so very handy for trains. My room on the fourth floor had a grand view of a huge fenced goods yard, with lorries, etc, tooting and revving all day and night. Very Delhi!
This was my first proper bed since arriving, so after a shower and a meal, and several cups of tea, I had an early night, and slept well despite the noises off...
Next morning I decided to go into central Delhi, Connaught Circus being a focal point. I needed to buy a travel adapter for my uk chargers, and I wanted to get an Indian sim card for my phone also.
Easy peasy, the metro is just outside the hotel... things were looking good at first, managed to buy a token for my journey, just 8 Rupees. Noticed a short line of passengers waiting to go through a single security check point, and went to join the end of the queue, which I never found. It snaked round the corner and off into the distance. I kid you not, it would have taken at least half an hour just to get through security! The Idea of mass transit one passenger at a time is bonkers. Give the poor public more security check points!!! Not just one!!!
Enough! I head out to the street and get a taxi... yes, it was Rs100 again!
Connaught Circus was a place I visited on my first visit to Delhi, over 25 years back, but I found it hard to recognise this time. Lots of roads sealed off for building works, huge holes dug in the road, together with the effects still being felt of the digging of the metro. I was able to buy my electrical adaptor with ease, but the sim card proved a little harder.
After showing my passport, handing over a photo, and filling in a form which even asked my fathers nationality, I came away with a sim card. It’s probably me, but I can’t get it to work with texts at this point. Ho Hum!
Next day was just looking around near the hotel, and checking the train times for my trip to Amritsar. It was the anniversary of the attack on Mumbai, so security was seen more at the station.
Sunday 27th Nov 2011
Packed last night so just up and off. Had to pay some tax on top of my bill.
Bags felt very heavy this morning as I lumbered up and down the footbridges spanning the tracks. Platform 1 for Amritsar. This train starts in Delhi, and I had seat 70, last one in the corner. I had a window seat, and was able to get on quickly and store my luggage before the luggage spaces vanished under the onslaught of 69 Indian passengers! Felt very warm and sticky after my exertions, but the air con kicked in and it soon became cold enough for me to put my bobble hat on... so I did. Light snacks are provided on this type of train, gratis, together with a 1 litre bottle of water. Trip took about 6 hours, the window was of clear glass, but there was still a thin foggy mist, and not much of note was seen.
Walked out of the station and across to the Grand Hotel, just opposite. Place is very run down, and not at all grand. A reasonable Indian style hotel, simply charging far too much by dint of it’s railway station proximity. Decided to book the trip to the border for that afternoon, and went in a good car from the hotel together with an Australian couple and a French Canadian girl. The tour included the border ceremony, and a visit to a temple and a look in at the Golden Temple to finish.
I read about the border closing ceremony in the paper before I came, so knew what to expect... a fairly odd human peacock display of strutting/preening/marching/hollering and very silly walks indeed, all to show the Pakistanis something or other... They do a similar show on their side of the border and both flags are lowered in unison, the border gates slam shut, and the show is over until same time, same place tomorrow evening!
My camera ran out of memory, so the next temple was not photographed, but it was a very odd place too, sort of a huge fairground haunted house, where one went along narrow twisty corridors, crawled through a tunnel on hands and knees, and paddled in a little stream through many different rooms, lots of mini shrines, mirror rooms, statues and tableaux depicting religious, err, “stuff”... I received a red dot on my forehead and staggered out into the street again to find my sandals at the nearby shoe depository.
The Golden Temple looked great at night, but my camera had let me down, so I went back next day in daylight by cycle rickshaw to have a proper look and get a few pics.
We all ate at the hotel that night, it was nice to have a chat and a beer and swap travellers tales, the Aussie couple were a similar age to myself and had travelled extensively in Asia.
Following last evenings camera let down, I decided to revisit the Golden Temple the next day, so after a small breakfast of omelette at the hotel, I went outside. A cycle rickshaw guy began chatting and he seemed quite happy to take me... the down side was that he kept on about “the secret of the temple” and rather impinged on my mood of calm contemplation by expecting some responses from me. Nevertheless, we arrived, and after paying him off, I purchased an orange colour head covering and, having parked my sandals again I went inside, barefoot.
Once again, this was some where that I had visited on my first visit to India, so I contented myself with a walk around the lake, and did not queue to go into the temple itself, having done that last visit, before the blue star attacks of 1984.
I rested outside the temple in an adjacent garden area, and was joined by a young Indian guy who asked me about my views on India. Sadly he was not really that interested in my responses, and seemed keen to tell me how decadent Europe and the west is. I was only too happy to drink to that notion! Seriously though, paying respect seems to be a duty here, in the west respect has to be earned these days. Sort of...
Another cycle rickshaw ride back to the hotel and a visit to the station to check out my train for tomorrow... managed to purchase a copy of “trains at a glance” the Indian train travel timetable. Now Rs. 60!
Paid off my hotel bill including taxes, as I was leaving at 4.30 am next morning to catch the 5 am train back to Delhi.
Earlyish night after a decent meal and a chat with the Aussie couple, who passed on a novel to me... more weight!!!
Wed 29th Nov 2011.
Early start today, everything packed the night before, except my travel kettle and tea mug.
Area around the station starting to come to life even at 4.30 am, chai stalls and other vendors keen to grab any early morning trade.
Found my seat easily, rather rude family alongside me. I was startled to see a guy from my hotel knocking on my train window outside... he had come hot foot from the hotel to collect “tax” ... I explained that I had paid the Rs 144 yesterday, and he eventually understood, and departed the station.
Memo to self.... get a receipt for everything!!!
Straightforward ride back to Delhi, a more modern Shatabdi train for this return journey than the one to Amritsar.
Lots of time to kill on arrival at Delhi, so I thought I would alter some of my rail pass reservations. Located the “tourist bureau” on the first floor, but man, it was busy! Nice and cool but a very long queue all around the room... felt sorry for people, as there was no printed guidance for tourists, who just milled around and sorted stuff out amongst themselves. I played my usual policeman role and admonished anyone I saw queue jumping. I got my comeuppance after I had shuffled along towards the head of the queue, someone finally noticed that I had a rail pass and I was whisked off to another desk. “Why are you queuing there” “You should come here for service” ... Well, there is no information visible about what to do and my mind reading skills are not too hot today!!!!
Anyway, I was in no rush, it was cool and relatively calm in the bureau, and my alterations were administered at a cost of just Rs. 10. Silly though, a few simple notices would make life easier for staff and tourists and save the later from getting so hot under the collar!
Sat out on the platform afterwards, quite a comfortable wait. I got chatting to my neighbour, an Indian who lived in Singapore, and who ran a chain of Indian restaurants there. He was back home to try and recruit some top chefs to come back to Singapore with him. I made note of his restaurants names, so I should get a decent curry if I am ever in Singapore again!
Train to Calcutta.
Platform 16, modern train, apparently the Rhajdani trains are the pride of the fleet, this had one of the newest coaches that I have travelled in. An odd chap squatting on the opposite lower bunk to mine, he did not speak much, or meet one’s gaze, but took several pictures, including of me. I got him to take one of me with my own camera too. A woman with a young child was located across the passageway, the child must be fated to be an actress, although only age 3, she was very self aware.
This time the meals were included in the fare, and rather tasty too.
The upper bunks were occupied by a Bangladeshi couple during the night, I think they said they boarded at Lucknow. Anyway, they got chatting to the quiet bloke, and it turned out he was a Bangladeshi too… maybe he was keeping a low profile, who knows?
The wife had been for eye treatment, and they were now on the way home. She gave me an invite to visit Bangladesh and gave me their email address
On time arrival into Howrah station, it was not as I remembered it from my first visit, back in 1983. I recall sleeping on the floor upstairs somewhere then, wrapped in a sheet. There were steps to an upper level, but with my bags I decided to stay on the ground floor. I bought a newspaper, then sat for an hour or so, watching the world pass by… I wanted to absorb a little of the bustle of the station, before I headed off to the hotel.
Taxi touts who speak reasonable English latch on to foreign tourists at rail stations, quote an inflated price, then whistle up a taxi from somewhere. I tend to argue a bit over price, for the sake of saving face a little, but it is only a few pounds after all… these foreign tourist “extras” all add to the local economy! So, Rs.200 agreed, and off we go. A long queue to leave the station, but good to see we have to travel over the Howrah Bridge, which presents a few photo ops as the ambassador taxi jousts and honks its way forward!
The taxi’s seem to be all old yellow ambassadors at the station rank, many other places have the small white Suzuki/Maruti mini vans too.
Driver gets to within spitting distance of the hotel then finds he is in a one way street… not something that seems to trouble most drivers here, the rules of the road are only a suggestion for many drivers! Anyway, I alight and walk a few yards back towards the hotel. I was rather surprised to see quite a lot of western tourists in the area, but apparently Chowingree is a popular destination.
Fairlawns Hotel
Found this place on the internet, and it transpires that many famous people have stayed here, Michael Palin and Dan Cruickshank to name just two. I asked the guy at the desk if he wanted to add my photo to his celebrity staircase, but no, he did not!
A bit of a faded hang-over from the colonial times, the owner is an Armenian lady aged 91, who was interesting to talk to, her husband was a posh English officer (with a batman, she said…) and they had met during the second world war. He had passed away, but she still keeps tabs on things on a daily basis, aided by an army of Indian managers.
Choice of small single upstairs or larger double on ground floor, chose the upper room. Very relaxed check in, paperwork later on… Nice to have a hot shower after two days and one night on the move. Kettle in room, so several cups of tea later I drop my laundry at reception and head out for a stroll. Bit of a walk around a covered market, selling everything from spices to live animals! Changed some money at a good rate, I had been using rupees unspent from my last visit up to this point. I wanted to have a look at the open “maidan” area, but my map and/or my navigation skills let me down. I think I probably just needed to keep on walking, but having almost been hit by enthusiastic cricket balls twice, I decided to retrace my steps. That would be quite a funny thing, really… Me, not liking sport, being bashed by a cricket ball hit by an Indian batsman… a sort of “serves you right for colonising the place” !
Back to the hotel, a garden area with several western tourists, and young locals male and female smoking and drinking beer. Seems a good idea, so I follow suite, and decide to have cheese omelette and french fries, or “finger chips” as they are called here, with my beer.
Internet connection is available at a fee, so I take advantage and post a few pics on face book, and catch up with emails, etc.
Had a surf through the tv channels in search of global news, not much available. Lots of programmes featuring dancing and singing, soap operas with moody looks, and adverts offering skin whitening products… not much world news, quite a lot on the decision to allow direct investment in Indian retail by foreign businesses like Tesco and Walmart, a decision now put on hold after small Indian shopkeepers went on strike.
Next morning I went just nearby to the museum of India an interesting collection of stone and metal statues and relics. Sadly a lot of the exhibits are very neglected, both the display and preservation leaving much to be improved. Once again, I thought this a place I had visited many years ago on my first visit to India, but I could not reconcile my memory with the actual building. Old age, eh? There is a two tier price structure, a few rupees for Indians, Rs150 for tourists, which seems fair enough…
On the way back to Howrah station, I ask the taxi driver to drop me in the middle of Howrah bridge..
Having enjoyed my walk from the bridge into Howrah station, I plonked myself down and bought a newspaper… one never has to go looking for items at a large station, the vendors, official and freelance, come around touting their wares very frequently. Not sure if many western sandal wearers do take up the offer of a shoeshine, but the shine lads seem ever hopeful of me… probably they can’t believe the state of mine!
Elderly matriarch has the lower bunk opposite mine, her family seem to be spread around the train, she keeps tabs on them by mobile phone. Dunno if she has all their baggage too, but she has masses of cases and boxes overflowing from under all the seats. That family alight about 10pm, and more passengers board.
A chap occupies the opposite top bunk, and proceeds to chat loudly on his mobile for ages… I ended up putting on my mp3 player in a bid to drift off to sleep. The bottom bunk was taken by a couple, don’t know how that works, ticket wise, but they slept head to toe in a tight space.
The train cleared out a little in the morning, and the noisy bloke from last night sat on the lower bunk and we had a chat. We both struggled with each others accents, but made a reasonable job if it. He was explaining that in the past his ancestors had been quite well off under the British rule, but that times had changed and he was working in a bank. He invited me to visit him, and wrote down his address in my notebook. The first line was simply “The Palace” … how cool was that? I am too shy to take up the offer, I think, but it sounded very interesting… maybe another time?
The catering on the non-rajdhani fast trains seems to be franchised out, so the quality of the offerings can vary. All felt that the food was particularly thin and mean on this train.
On time arrival in Chennai, as Madras is now called, and an auto rickshaw driver nabs me. I have learnt to ensure that any driver really knows where my destination is before we set off, this chap was knowledgeable, so off we went into the warm evening traffic mayhem!
Not much to report from Chennai, my hotel was about a mile from the beach, so the next day I took an afternoon walk there and back. Very pleasant, old fashioned family event. Interesting to see small hand powered kids rides, kites, a bucket and spade feel rather than the latest techno-whizz-bang rides. I thought the traffic less frantic than in the north, and at least some of the rules of the road were obeyed, sometimes.
Alcohol is still rather seen as a delinquent activity (and who am I to argue that!) and the hotel has a bar, but with quite low lighting, a den fit for those who seek earthly rather than spiritual pleasures, although spirits are available.
Nice buffet breakfasts are included in my room price, I went for a “fusion” of omelette, baked beans, idly, sambar, and some fried spud… tasty!
Friday 25/11/11
I have been in India since Tuesday morning, and while I am a bit tired for composing a witty travel report just now, I am aware that I need to get a few “notes” down before I forget too much ...
Looking back, I had a nice afternoon with my son Aidan on Sunday, but slept badly on the Sunday night, and felt quite groggy after the evening’s beers and just 4 hours sleep. I bought a few last minute items on the way to the rail station, such as a luggage chain and some mosquito repellent. I treated myself to a decent pair of headphones too, before boarding the train to Manchester.
Easy check in. Noticed my case weighed almost 18 kilo, feel quite ashamed to be dragging so much stuff around behind me! I had been assigned an aisle seat which suited me fine. Flight took off pretty well on time, a relief as there were fog problems at several other airports, and the train trip had been shrouded in fog most of the way.
The flight was fine, my only complaint was that the “entertainment” was piss poor, and that passengers were not offered a drink of water during the 10 hour flight. Yes, we had a free meal, but I seem to think that one should drink plenty of water?
I had two pints of Guinness in the bar before we took off so after a longish flight and not much rest the night before , I was pretty knackered by the time I got off the plane.
Smokey India, as that forgotten scent seeps into the plane, we pile onto the buses to the terminal... an early query about health and safety as our bus and a baggage tractor almost collide... Small terminal, I was lucky to get in a faster line for immigration which held home coming Indian nationals off a different flight from the Gulf. Lots of huge shopping bags with them!
Indian film festival starting in Goa next day, could be why my flight was more expensive than most other dates?
I had some idea of hanging around in the comfort of the airport for several hours, before heading off to Vasco da Gamma rail station for my afternoon train to Delhi... but there was not any comfort to be had there there, so I took a taxi to the station straight off. Cost Rs. 100, which was quite good value for the distance... Odd how many things cost “Rs 100” when any price is queried by moi!
Goa (Madgaon) station was quite reasonable when we caught a train there a few years back, Vasco de Gamma station is a bit grotty, as is the area around the station. To be fair, I was almost sleepwalking when I got there, and my perceptions were further coloured by the thought that it was 7.30 am and my train was due at 3pm.
I sat on the station steps in the shade, and thankfully, apart from a few offers of taxis, and curious glances for being rather warmly dressed, I was hassle free, Goans being fairly used to tourists.
After a while I got a second wind and had a look around, noticing that there were railway retiring rooms at the station. These are cheap basic rooms or dorms where you can rest up for a few hours in a horizontal position, something with massive appeal for me at that point!
Enquiring at the apropriate office, I found that all rooms were fully booked, but was informed that I could use the general waiting room. I decided to sit on a seat on the platform, and was soon engaged in conversation by a local man, a rice farmer amongst other occupations. He also spoke French and was engaged to escort French tourists on an ad hoc basis. He had visited Europe, and was rather open minded, and left leaning. He felt that the Indian belief in Karma was an excuse for wealthy people to be greedy. I came away knowing a little more about the problems of rice farmers in the region.
The station was a flurry of platform cleaning by sweepers and security was suddenly put into operation... a hitherto open platform was sealed off by a couple of police and a scanner device of dubious efficiency. The toilets were given a thorough clean (yippee!) and before long an inspection tour by several rail big wigs began.
Do these folk really think that the stations are clean and well run when they are not due for inspection... I guess it showed me that things can improve, if only for a few hours... the toilets were back to grotty once the visit was over!
The station ticket inspector was concerned that I did not have any record of my seat or coach number on my rail pass, and kindly went out of his way to find it for me amongst the mass of paperwork in his office.
3pm and I board the train, my berth is a lower one, facing one opposite with one berth above each of the lower bunks too. Across the corridor there is a similar two tier arrangement, this occupied by a talkative young couple... continuous chatting to each other... bit of a surprise, as most Indian couples don’t tend to be over chatty to each other in public, in my experience... more like flirty westerners!
Stowed my stuff under the seat, and watched the scenery pass on the very short ride to Margoa, where the opposite bunks were taken by a guy who looked to be in his early thirties, and his young son. They spoke English although I found their accents a little hard to follow. I latter found out that they were on their way to a family wedding. The man was involved in the wholesale shoes trade, and treated me to a chai and biscuits. The chai and food vendors appeared early on, and I was invited to place my advance orders for “veg cutlets” and “veg evening meals”. I was not asked for any money for the food, so imagined that it must be included in my fare. Bit surprised to get a request for Rs. 330 towards the end of the trip, but it was only about £4 ($6) so pretty good value.
After the evening meal on the first day I headed for the toilet, when I returned a guy came up and asked was anything missing? I didn’t twig what he was on about, but after a moment or two it became clear that my wallet was indeed missing. After I confirmed this to him, assuming that he had seen someone pinch it, he produced from behind his back... it had fallen from my pocket en route to the loo. Felt quite warm towards my fellow travellers, and rather stupid too!
Being so tired, I just crashed out early, and had a good nights sleep, I had a vague impression of someone using the bunk above mine during the night, but it was empty again at first light.
One of the really sad things about Indian trains, from my perspective, is that the window glass is often painted over with a yellow tint to reflect the heat back out, but that makes the scenery outside very hard to see... such a shame for us photo mad tourists!
Slept well again on the second night, waking about 6am in Agra station. Train was pretty late at this point due to fog... apparently northern India has had fog and mist for a few days, and several trains were cancelled. We continued to trundle towards Delhi at a slow pace all morning, and pulled in 6 hours late, a different terminal from New Delhi, where my hotel is located.
Had the usual hassle over the cost of a ride to the hotel, but settled quickly as I was afraid of loosing my reservation by arriving late. Good fun riding through the chaos of Delhi traffic.
Ginger hotel, a rather bland travel lodge type of place, but being India, it had a little bit more character. Quite pleased to see a “Comesum” snack place there too, where I enjoyed a thali amongst other good meals.
This particular hotel is 5 minutes walk from New Delhi station so very handy for trains. My room on the fourth floor had a grand view of a huge fenced goods yard, with lorries, etc, tooting and revving all day and night. Very Delhi!
This was my first proper bed since arriving, so after a shower and a meal, and several cups of tea, I had an early night, and slept well despite the noises off...
Next morning I decided to go into central Delhi, Connaught Circus being a focal point. I needed to buy a travel adapter for my uk chargers, and I wanted to get an Indian sim card for my phone also.
Easy peasy, the metro is just outside the hotel... things were looking good at first, managed to buy a token for my journey, just 8 Rupees. Noticed a short line of passengers waiting to go through a single security check point, and went to join the end of the queue, which I never found. It snaked round the corner and off into the distance. I kid you not, it would have taken at least half an hour just to get through security! The Idea of mass transit one passenger at a time is bonkers. Give the poor public more security check points!!! Not just one!!!
Enough! I head out to the street and get a taxi... yes, it was Rs100 again!
Connaught Circus was a place I visited on my first visit to Delhi, over 25 years back, but I found it hard to recognise this time. Lots of roads sealed off for building works, huge holes dug in the road, together with the effects still being felt of the digging of the metro. I was able to buy my electrical adaptor with ease, but the sim card proved a little harder.
After showing my passport, handing over a photo, and filling in a form which even asked my fathers nationality, I came away with a sim card. It’s probably me, but I can’t get it to work with texts at this point. Ho Hum!
Next day was just looking around near the hotel, and checking the train times for my trip to Amritsar. It was the anniversary of the attack on Mumbai, so security was seen more at the station.
Sunday 27th Nov 2011
Packed last night so just up and off. Had to pay some tax on top of my bill.
Bags felt very heavy this morning as I lumbered up and down the footbridges spanning the tracks. Platform 1 for Amritsar. This train starts in Delhi, and I had seat 70, last one in the corner. I had a window seat, and was able to get on quickly and store my luggage before the luggage spaces vanished under the onslaught of 69 Indian passengers! Felt very warm and sticky after my exertions, but the air con kicked in and it soon became cold enough for me to put my bobble hat on... so I did. Light snacks are provided on this type of train, gratis, together with a 1 litre bottle of water. Trip took about 6 hours, the window was of clear glass, but there was still a thin foggy mist, and not much of note was seen.
Walked out of the station and across to the Grand Hotel, just opposite. Place is very run down, and not at all grand. A reasonable Indian style hotel, simply charging far too much by dint of it’s railway station proximity. Decided to book the trip to the border for that afternoon, and went in a good car from the hotel together with an Australian couple and a French Canadian girl. The tour included the border ceremony, and a visit to a temple and a look in at the Golden Temple to finish.
I read about the border closing ceremony in the paper before I came, so knew what to expect... a fairly odd human peacock display of strutting/preening/marching/hollering and very silly walks indeed, all to show the Pakistanis something or other... They do a similar show on their side of the border and both flags are lowered in unison, the border gates slam shut, and the show is over until same time, same place tomorrow evening!
My camera ran out of memory, so the next temple was not photographed, but it was a very odd place too, sort of a huge fairground haunted house, where one went along narrow twisty corridors, crawled through a tunnel on hands and knees, and paddled in a little stream through many different rooms, lots of mini shrines, mirror rooms, statues and tableaux depicting religious, err, “stuff”... I received a red dot on my forehead and staggered out into the street again to find my sandals at the nearby shoe depository.
The Golden Temple looked great at night, but my camera had let me down, so I went back next day in daylight by cycle rickshaw to have a proper look and get a few pics.
We all ate at the hotel that night, it was nice to have a chat and a beer and swap travellers tales, the Aussie couple were a similar age to myself and had travelled extensively in Asia.
Following last evenings camera let down, I decided to revisit the Golden Temple the next day, so after a small breakfast of omelette at the hotel, I went outside. A cycle rickshaw guy began chatting and he seemed quite happy to take me... the down side was that he kept on about “the secret of the temple” and rather impinged on my mood of calm contemplation by expecting some responses from me. Nevertheless, we arrived, and after paying him off, I purchased an orange colour head covering and, having parked my sandals again I went inside, barefoot.
Once again, this was some where that I had visited on my first visit to India, so I contented myself with a walk around the lake, and did not queue to go into the temple itself, having done that last visit, before the blue star attacks of 1984.
I rested outside the temple in an adjacent garden area, and was joined by a young Indian guy who asked me about my views on India. Sadly he was not really that interested in my responses, and seemed keen to tell me how decadent Europe and the west is. I was only too happy to drink to that notion! Seriously though, paying respect seems to be a duty here, in the west respect has to be earned these days. Sort of...
Another cycle rickshaw ride back to the hotel and a visit to the station to check out my train for tomorrow... managed to purchase a copy of “trains at a glance” the Indian train travel timetable. Now Rs. 60!
Paid off my hotel bill including taxes, as I was leaving at 4.30 am next morning to catch the 5 am train back to Delhi.
Earlyish night after a decent meal and a chat with the Aussie couple, who passed on a novel to me... more weight!!!
Wed 29th Nov 2011.
Early start today, everything packed the night before, except my travel kettle and tea mug.
Area around the station starting to come to life even at 4.30 am, chai stalls and other vendors keen to grab any early morning trade.
Found my seat easily, rather rude family alongside me. I was startled to see a guy from my hotel knocking on my train window outside... he had come hot foot from the hotel to collect “tax” ... I explained that I had paid the Rs 144 yesterday, and he eventually understood, and departed the station.
Memo to self.... get a receipt for everything!!!
Straightforward ride back to Delhi, a more modern Shatabdi train for this return journey than the one to Amritsar.
Lots of time to kill on arrival at Delhi, so I thought I would alter some of my rail pass reservations. Located the “tourist bureau” on the first floor, but man, it was busy! Nice and cool but a very long queue all around the room... felt sorry for people, as there was no printed guidance for tourists, who just milled around and sorted stuff out amongst themselves. I played my usual policeman role and admonished anyone I saw queue jumping. I got my comeuppance after I had shuffled along towards the head of the queue, someone finally noticed that I had a rail pass and I was whisked off to another desk. “Why are you queuing there” “You should come here for service” ... Well, there is no information visible about what to do and my mind reading skills are not too hot today!!!!
Anyway, I was in no rush, it was cool and relatively calm in the bureau, and my alterations were administered at a cost of just Rs. 10. Silly though, a few simple notices would make life easier for staff and tourists and save the later from getting so hot under the collar!
Sat out on the platform afterwards, quite a comfortable wait. I got chatting to my neighbour, an Indian who lived in Singapore, and who ran a chain of Indian restaurants there. He was back home to try and recruit some top chefs to come back to Singapore with him. I made note of his restaurants names, so I should get a decent curry if I am ever in Singapore again!
Train to Calcutta.
Platform 16, modern train, apparently the Rhajdani trains are the pride of the fleet, this had one of the newest coaches that I have travelled in. An odd chap squatting on the opposite lower bunk to mine, he did not speak much, or meet one’s gaze, but took several pictures, including of me. I got him to take one of me with my own camera too. A woman with a young child was located across the passageway, the child must be fated to be an actress, although only age 3, she was very self aware.
This time the meals were included in the fare, and rather tasty too.
The upper bunks were occupied by a Bangladeshi couple during the night, I think they said they boarded at Lucknow. Anyway, they got chatting to the quiet bloke, and it turned out he was a Bangladeshi too… maybe he was keeping a low profile, who knows?
The wife had been for eye treatment, and they were now on the way home. She gave me an invite to visit Bangladesh and gave me their email address
On time arrival into Howrah station, it was not as I remembered it from my first visit, back in 1983. I recall sleeping on the floor upstairs somewhere then, wrapped in a sheet. There were steps to an upper level, but with my bags I decided to stay on the ground floor. I bought a newspaper, then sat for an hour or so, watching the world pass by… I wanted to absorb a little of the bustle of the station, before I headed off to the hotel.
Taxi touts who speak reasonable English latch on to foreign tourists at rail stations, quote an inflated price, then whistle up a taxi from somewhere. I tend to argue a bit over price, for the sake of saving face a little, but it is only a few pounds after all… these foreign tourist “extras” all add to the local economy! So, Rs.200 agreed, and off we go. A long queue to leave the station, but good to see we have to travel over the Howrah Bridge, which presents a few photo ops as the ambassador taxi jousts and honks its way forward!
The taxi’s seem to be all old yellow ambassadors at the station rank, many other places have the small white Suzuki/Maruti mini vans too.
Driver gets to within spitting distance of the hotel then finds he is in a one way street… not something that seems to trouble most drivers here, the rules of the road are only a suggestion for many drivers! Anyway, I alight and walk a few yards back towards the hotel. I was rather surprised to see quite a lot of western tourists in the area, but apparently Chowingree is a popular destination.
Fairlawns Hotel
Found this place on the internet, and it transpires that many famous people have stayed here, Michael Palin and Dan Cruickshank to name just two. I asked the guy at the desk if he wanted to add my photo to his celebrity staircase, but no, he did not!
A bit of a faded hang-over from the colonial times, the owner is an Armenian lady aged 91, who was interesting to talk to, her husband was a posh English officer (with a batman, she said…) and they had met during the second world war. He had passed away, but she still keeps tabs on things on a daily basis, aided by an army of Indian managers.
Choice of small single upstairs or larger double on ground floor, chose the upper room. Very relaxed check in, paperwork later on… Nice to have a hot shower after two days and one night on the move. Kettle in room, so several cups of tea later I drop my laundry at reception and head out for a stroll. Bit of a walk around a covered market, selling everything from spices to live animals! Changed some money at a good rate, I had been using rupees unspent from my last visit up to this point. I wanted to have a look at the open “maidan” area, but my map and/or my navigation skills let me down. I think I probably just needed to keep on walking, but having almost been hit by enthusiastic cricket balls twice, I decided to retrace my steps. That would be quite a funny thing, really… Me, not liking sport, being bashed by a cricket ball hit by an Indian batsman… a sort of “serves you right for colonising the place” !
Back to the hotel, a garden area with several western tourists, and young locals male and female smoking and drinking beer. Seems a good idea, so I follow suite, and decide to have cheese omelette and french fries, or “finger chips” as they are called here, with my beer.
Internet connection is available at a fee, so I take advantage and post a few pics on face book, and catch up with emails, etc.
Had a surf through the tv channels in search of global news, not much available. Lots of programmes featuring dancing and singing, soap operas with moody looks, and adverts offering skin whitening products… not much world news, quite a lot on the decision to allow direct investment in Indian retail by foreign businesses like Tesco and Walmart, a decision now put on hold after small Indian shopkeepers went on strike.
Next morning I went just nearby to the museum of India an interesting collection of stone and metal statues and relics. Sadly a lot of the exhibits are very neglected, both the display and preservation leaving much to be improved. Once again, I thought this a place I had visited many years ago on my first visit to India, but I could not reconcile my memory with the actual building. Old age, eh? There is a two tier price structure, a few rupees for Indians, Rs150 for tourists, which seems fair enough…
On the way back to Howrah station, I ask the taxi driver to drop me in the middle of Howrah bridge..
Having enjoyed my walk from the bridge into Howrah station, I plonked myself down and bought a newspaper… one never has to go looking for items at a large station, the vendors, official and freelance, come around touting their wares very frequently. Not sure if many western sandal wearers do take up the offer of a shoeshine, but the shine lads seem ever hopeful of me… probably they can’t believe the state of mine!
Elderly matriarch has the lower bunk opposite mine, her family seem to be spread around the train, she keeps tabs on them by mobile phone. Dunno if she has all their baggage too, but she has masses of cases and boxes overflowing from under all the seats. That family alight about 10pm, and more passengers board.
A chap occupies the opposite top bunk, and proceeds to chat loudly on his mobile for ages… I ended up putting on my mp3 player in a bid to drift off to sleep. The bottom bunk was taken by a couple, don’t know how that works, ticket wise, but they slept head to toe in a tight space.
The train cleared out a little in the morning, and the noisy bloke from last night sat on the lower bunk and we had a chat. We both struggled with each others accents, but made a reasonable job if it. He was explaining that in the past his ancestors had been quite well off under the British rule, but that times had changed and he was working in a bank. He invited me to visit him, and wrote down his address in my notebook. The first line was simply “The Palace” … how cool was that? I am too shy to take up the offer, I think, but it sounded very interesting… maybe another time?
The catering on the non-rajdhani fast trains seems to be franchised out, so the quality of the offerings can vary. All felt that the food was particularly thin and mean on this train.
On time arrival in Chennai, as Madras is now called, and an auto rickshaw driver nabs me. I have learnt to ensure that any driver really knows where my destination is before we set off, this chap was knowledgeable, so off we went into the warm evening traffic mayhem!
Not much to report from Chennai, my hotel was about a mile from the beach, so the next day I took an afternoon walk there and back. Very pleasant, old fashioned family event. Interesting to see small hand powered kids rides, kites, a bucket and spade feel rather than the latest techno-whizz-bang rides. I thought the traffic less frantic than in the north, and at least some of the rules of the road were obeyed, sometimes.
Alcohol is still rather seen as a delinquent activity (and who am I to argue that!) and the hotel has a bar, but with quite low lighting, a den fit for those who seek earthly rather than spiritual pleasures, although spirits are available.
Nice buffet breakfasts are included in my room price, I went for a “fusion” of omelette, baked beans, idly, sambar, and some fried spud… tasty!
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