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Post by onlyMark on Feb 20, 2016 15:57:29 GMT
Here is the plan. Go to India for a month. End of plan.
Always ends up being a bit more complicated than that though, doesn't it? First I need a visa as I have a UK passport. I understand getting one in the UK was quite complex. The last couple of times I've been I got one in Amman. That worked out just fine, though expensive. Now I am able to get an eVisa after applying online. It is far cheaper but you end up with nothing more really than a reference number which must be presented to Immigration upon arrival. We'll see how that goes. It only took 36 hours to get it though.
It used to be a part of the visa process that you need a confirmed flight booking. Not so any more but I had one anyway. I took advantage of a special offer from Finnair which allowed me to book a business class flight from Malaga, the closest proper airport to me. It is/was non-refundable but had to be bought before the end of December. The problem was that I couldn't apply for a visa before the middle of January. So if I didn't get it I'd have to see what I could do about the flight booking. That all worked out fine in any case.
But, it's a flight to Delhi. Me no like Delhi no more. So I've booked for the following day after arrival an internal flight. I'll have a night south of the airport then return and fly to Cochin/Kochi in Kerala, in the south west. I've booked a hotel for the first two nights in the town and then I'm moving north along the coast a short distance to have two nights in two different hotels close to the beach..... Then nothing. Don't know what after that. Normally I rent a car and drive myself round but in order to do so and to drive there as a foreigner I need an International Driving Permit. This, for those who don't know, is a copy of your driving licence in different languages but is issued by the main motoring organisation in your own country. This I don't now have.
I don't have it because it only lasts a year and it is over a year since I went back to the UK. My last one has expired. You theoretically also need it to rent a motorbike or scooter. We might have to see about that as I'm so used to transporting myself I have little patience for any other mode, like buses or trains. I know it can be done but I always feel I'm losing so much time doing what I want to do rather than waiting around or getting to the stations. I realise the advantages of public transport and the cultural interactions therein but it still doesn't compensate me for the freedom and freedom of choice my own transport gives, like stopping, starting, eating, diverting, toilet(ting) and so one when I want. Maybe a bicycle then..........?
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 20, 2016 15:58:14 GMT
Day1
I love flying and I hate flying. I love how easy it is nowadays. Book a flight, get herded through the airport, get on the plane and a few hours later get off thousands of miles away. I hate the seats. Maybe it's just me. I'm fidgeting like a hyperactive kid with hemorrhoids. I've also decided that having a business class flight through Europe is as much use as a chocolate fireguard or an ashtray on a motorbike. Invariably you end up in economy class seats but with a spare one in the middle. Woopeydooo. So what. I still can't get comfortable and as for sleeping......... no chance at all. I've tried everything short of medication, and I'm not taking that.
I've just flown from Malaga to Helsinki. Supposed to be 4 hours ten minutes but extended because Finland also suffers from freezing fog at times. I thought here it was all bright crisp Winter sunshine, beautiful women with that slightly turned up and very cute nose and scenery with awesome snowscapes and ski jumping. It seems I may have been misled. Freezing fog delays flights because they can't maintain the close spacing between them when landing. So, we took the scenic route circling Finland for forty five minutes until we could be slotted in. I say scenic but we couldn't see anything because of, well, the fog.
Helsinki airport is, using the words of Kevin McCloud, clean, crisp and contemporary. But when they designed it the architects apparently forgot that when people queue up at a gate they take up quite a lot of space. That means, especially in the Schengen/European part, vast amounts of passengers crowd together blocking off completely any passage through them to get to another gate. Then you get those that decide they'll stand in the middle of the corridor chatting anyway, just because their IQ is the same as their shoe size. But, life goes on.
Malaga business class lounge is very big, was very empty and thus, no food or virtually anything. There were a couple of plastic wrapped half sandwiches and an unidentifiable biscuit thing. I ate them anyway because I'd had no breakfast. Then, and then, I get on the plane, note with a sigh that even though I'm at the front I still only get the same space as a de-legged squid but then horrors........ I look in the seat pocket and see a menu for food..... that you have to pay for. I had palpitations and felt feint for ten minutes or so. But, I admit, I'd overreacted. It seems the dross behind me, behind the curtain, have to pay for food. Mine was included.
The menu given to me shortly after takeoff read, "Savustettua lohta, jaamerensalaattia ja saaristolaisleipaa.............." It was all Finnish to me. Fortunately I remembered and old trick taught to me by a five star French chef out in the Sahara one evening sitting around a campfire watching shooting stars and wondering if it would hurt if one landed on your head, or would you catch fire first? One tip by the way, if you do catch fire, don't look at yourself in the mirror. That's reeeaally scary. He told me if you are handed in menu in a language you don't understand either, point at something with authority or, turn it over. Especially as many now are in at least two languages. So I did.
That was better. It now read, "Smoked salmon and shrimp salad with rye bread. Ravioli filled with truffles and Riesling cream sauce, leaf spinach. Blueberry raspberry cake with vanilla sauce" Right then. That'd do me. I also had a couple of cans of coca cola. I don't normally drink it but I've always sworn by it to kill any bugs obtained from dodgy street food. I thought I'd build up my resistance straight away. Helsinki business lounge is fine, though short on comfortable seats, quite busy and the food, when it is there is so so. I managed to grab a soup and a small plate of salad before the workers, who seem to be working to rule like British Leyland throughout the seventies, whipped away most of it at the exact time 'dinner' service was supposed to end. Now all that's there is a few slices of tomato and a cube of pineapple.
I hope the night flight to Delhi soon is better and I can get comfortable.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 20, 2016 15:59:50 GMT
Day 2
I’ve decided that flying overnight on an airline with a ‘lie flat’ bed is the thing to do. After the cramped conditions of the Europe flight I walked on to the plane and saw the business class section, and smiled. I had an idea all would be ok though from when I booked and did a seat selection. Some rows had two, two, two across the cabin but some, on the seat plan, only had one, two, one. Obviously I took the ‘one’. I could charge up my kindle, my little pad thing and even run my netbook all at the same time, if I wanted. The problem though was time. I didn’t have enough of it. It’s the first time I’ve flown and wanted an extra hour or two. The reason being I didn’t sleep at all. After I’d watched Spectre and the Man from Uncle, started off the one about the Kray twins, played a game or two, had dinner and then breakfast, well, the time just flew. Hence I arrived in Delhi with matchsticks under my eyelids.
The breakfast disappointed a little as we were offered just a choice of a cheese or a chicken roll. Dinner though gave you a choice. You could either have, marinated lavaret, akvavit seasoned fennel and vendace roe mouse (I bet you can guess which three words out of that I had no clue what they meant, and still don’t) or, palak paneer dal makhani (rice, lentils, cottage cheese, spinach, curry sauce) or, goat cheese and beetroot salad with apple and pine nuts. I went for the curry, which wasn’t too bad at all. After that we had some cheese, chocolates and ice cream.
On arrival at Delhi airport I readied myself for the usual formalities that seem more often than not to involve someone who acts like it is their first day on the job and I’m the first they’ve ever had to process. I’m not kidding. The amount of times in India and a number of other countries I attempt to get something done and no matter the person has done it over and over again, more times than I’ve had hot dinners, started diets, swore blind I wasn’t going over the speed limit or brought Mrs Mark a coffee in bed every morning (I do, really), it always ends up me standing there whilst they faff around looking for their pen or bit of paper and so on. But, it went smoothly. I was interested to see how this eVisa thing went as it’s a relatively new scheme, but it worked fine. I’d printed off an email they said to do, presented that with my passport, stuck the middle finger of my left hand (why that one I’ve no idea) in a fingerprint scanner and got a stamp, all in a couple of minutes.
I then had a hiccup in the baggage hall. I’ve got a new small rucksack that I checked in and because I wasn’t so familiar with it I ended up picking up another one that was similar. It was only as I tried to open the top I realised that buckles were different. I sheepishly slipped it back on the belt and stood there trying to look cool as though nothing has happened. I’d also arranged a transfer to the b and b I’ve booked for one night. The guy was waiting with my name and that went smoothly.
At the b and b I checked in and was shown to my room. All fine and dandy. What struck me though was the bed. It was the size of Texas. I think they must have built the room round it as there’s no was they’d have got it in through the door. Comfortable though as I decided to have a snooze for a few hours. I could have had lunch at the b and b but I asked how much and was told 500 rupees, about six and a half euros. Jeez, I’m not paying that, thought I. So I slipped out onto the street and had matter paneer, “a delicious combination of soft paneer cheese and healthy green peas in a mild spicy tomato based gravy”, so one recipe states. Plus two round flat breads called roti and a small plate of raw onions. This cost me 60 rupees, about 0.78 euros. That was a lot better. I might even go back for my dinner.
Tomorrow I slip back to the airport and fly internally via Mumbai down to Kochi (Cochin).
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 20, 2016 16:03:05 GMT
I was too tired to be bothered walking around too far tonight so I stuck to the main street behind the b and b which is a typical Indian back street with potholes, dogs, all manner of shops, vegetable stalls, street food stalls, lots of people, motorbikes and cars, chemists, barbers, sweet shops, engine spare parts, dentists……. In fact I could probably live on most streets in India and never have need to go anywhere else to buy anything. The street food I spotted brought back memories and included samosas, scrambled egg/omelette, fried potato sandwiches and even someone doing chow mein type stuff. I opted though to call back where I had lunch.
I had aloo mutter, “Aloo mutter is a Punjabi dish which is made from potatoes and peas in a spiced creamy tomato based sauce. It is a vegetarian dish. The sauce is generally cooked with garlic, ginger, onion, tomatoes, cilantro, cumin seeds and other spices.” Also aloo jeera, “Its main ingredients are potatoes (aloo), cumin seeds (jeera) and Indian spices. Other ingredients are red chili powder, ginger, coriander and curry leaves.” A couple of the rotis and a plate of raw onion and raw mooli, which is also called daikon and is a large carrot sized white radish. Afterwards I felt as full as if I’d eaten half of that large bed in my room. Tasted a lot better though. Cost was one and a half euro.
Time soon for bed. Early start tomorrow to catch the plane. I'll try and start taking a few photos as soon as I get sorted.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 20, 2016 16:14:01 GMT
Frankly, I think this is going to be even better than your father's African story.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 20, 2016 16:33:08 GMT
Yeah, right.
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Post by bjd on Feb 20, 2016 18:50:21 GMT
Obviously more food and less women than Mark's father's account.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 20, 2016 19:28:48 GMT
The tawdry romantic elements of the Kenya story are what is keeping our female members drooling. You'd think they have not yet understood how much men lie about such things. The Indian peregrinations that I am awaiting will have, I hope, all of the charm of Antonio Tabucchi's Indian Nocturne. That is in fact the vision that I have of OnlyMark's travels in India.
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Post by htmb on Feb 21, 2016 1:26:23 GMT
Kerouac, if you're not joking, then I'd say you have a lot to learn about women.
Looking forward to reading more, Mark.
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Post by bjd on Feb 21, 2016 6:30:34 GMT
The tawdry romantic elements of the Kenya story are what is keeping our female members drooling. You'd think they have not yet understood how much men lie about such things. The Indian peregrinations that I am awaiting will have, I hope, all of the charm of Antonio Tabucchi's Indian Nocturne. That is in fact the vision that I have of OnlyMark's travels in India. Yeah, right.
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Post by Deleted on Feb 21, 2016 7:54:01 GMT
That's what I get for not throwing a confetti of emoticons over my post.
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Post by mossie on Feb 21, 2016 8:09:25 GMT
Keep your head down, Kerouac, you cannot win?
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 21, 2016 13:42:27 GMT
Antonio Tabucchi's Indian Nocturne? I'll have to look that one up. I don't think we did it at school.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 21, 2016 13:43:27 GMT
Obviously more food and less women than Mark's father's account. I never kiss and tell.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 21, 2016 15:09:47 GMT
Day 3
I found out where all the tourists are. The mosquitoes as well for that matter. Down in Fort Cochin. The mist lay heavy this morning. Or it might have been pollution. Probably a mix of the two. It lent a softer quality to the street side scenes of poverty and chaos. It certainly must be hard for those who have no alternative but to live in ramshackle shelters propped up on any spare patch of ground. The smell, the disease, the litter, the lack of hygiene and sanitation must lead to a very low life expectancy and the quality of life must be in the doldrums. I pass by on my way to the airport in an air conditioned car, probably paying more for one local flight than they have in a month to feed their family. I feel very lucky to be able to do so. They have no alternative, if they go somewhere else they would still be in the same position. They say that money doesn’t buy happiness. Maybe not, but it does buy options and alternatives.
The driver I had had an interesting driving technique. Get up to top gear as soon as possible, accelerate until you are going too fast, then take it out of gear and coast until you are going to slow. Rinse and repeat. Certainly quite different to what I am used to. I had a flight from Delhi to Mumbai and then another to Kochi (Cochin). The weather in Delhi was mild and about 23 degrees. In Cochin it is 33 degrees and humidity makes it feel like forty. I’m glad to be out of Delhi. Never took to the place, just far, far too big. A population of about 12 million is excessive whereas Cochin has about seven hundred thousand, give or take.
Mumbai airport is a mess. I’m sure that all the architects who ever failed their exams all were given jobs there. Horrendous, especially the Domestic side. It’s just like a labyrinth. I was transferring domestically and had trouble finding the right way to go. Eventually a small side door hidden behind a pillar was pointed out to me. I passed through into another departures area that looked like they’d not built enough columns to support the roof and then added in a plentiful supply more, just in case, a few years later. Navigation around the airport was appalling and I constantly saw tourists blankly looking round for the right way to go. One saving grace was the boarding pass collector at the gate who, after taking the pass, always put his hands together (like in prayer) and wished a good journey to each that passed him.
I succumbed to another car transfer from the airport to town. The alternative was the bus, but for over an hours journey, in that temperature and humidity, I wimped out. I knew what it would be like so I took the easy option. I enjoyed the drive though. We first went through an industrial area, which I like. They are quite vibrant and full of life. Shops selling bamboo furniture were at the side of those selling car wheels and engine parts. A mix of everything. The roads are better than in Delhi and it gave me chance to stare out the window instead of watching the traffic with the driver. I’m not that good a passenger. There were glimpses of the backwaters the area is famous for, also the type of fishing using what they call Chinese fishing nets. These are a large square of netting suspended from poles that is dipped into the water. After a while they are lifted to see what fish have been caught.
There were innumerable advertising hoardings along the road side. When I first came to India most were hand drawn and painted. No more. All professionally printed. There were noisy tuk tuks, horns sounding, truck wrecks, families all piled together on a motorbike. Women and girls in bright coloured sari’s daintily picking their way through the puddles and litter with their gold sandals. Schoolkids all in uniform forming a crocodile as they made their way from one place to another. Smells of fried food and chai sellers clinking their glasses together as they washed them out. Absolutely bloody wonderful.
The b and b I’m at is in the middle of the old Fort Cochin area. Here they tend to call them ‘homestays’ which I think gives them licence to not provide breakfast, which mine doesn’t. Nearby is a mosque and I’ve been pleased to hear the call to prayer a couple of times. Pleased because it is always so atmospheric to me. Even after living in Arabic countries I still like it, especially the very early call, usually whilst still dark which I often heard if I got up very early for some reason.
I slipped out for a small meal earlier just after I arrived to get my bearings. I had a vegetable rice pulao and a salad. I was serenaded by the local church where the choir was singing “What a friend we have in Jesus”. I’ll probably have something completely different later and in the next day or so. Why? Because, as I said, I’ve found all the tourists and 'proper' Indian food is not always what they want. Plus, street food seems to have disappeared. There are no samosas, pav bhaji (vegetable curry served with a soft bread roll) or vada pav (a creation involving a deep fried potato patty with some coriander and spices served in a soft bread roll) or any other stuff. I can’t believe some walk round as though they are having a week in Benidorm.
Also, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with them all. I far more used to being in parts of India where there are little if none at all. Travelling through the country is always a pleasure and after the times I’ve been here I tend to avoid for the most part the tourist trail. I have to be with them, and be one of them, as I’m obviously not Indian, but I try and restrict it to when I have to go to see a tourist site or area. I’m not sure what the feeling is but it’s as though I’m constantly waiting to see the German Bakery. There always is one. Another drawback is the obvious that prices go up and often locals aren’t as friendly as they are more avaricious than elsewhere.
I have tonight and then one more in this place and then move on up the coast a little. I have a little plan as to how to get there but I need to find out tomorrow if it is feasible. I may even have time to take some photos.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 22, 2016 12:00:05 GMT
DAY 4 I hate it when stuff appears on the table that you’ve not ordered. This morning I went out for breakfast, for a masala dosa, to a place not far from the top of Kochi near to the Chinese fishing nets. I should have known better as it is close to the main tourist area. The menu was a reasonable price so I thought I’d give it a try. Well, first a bottle of water appears. I’d not ordered it and the waiter was just about to crack it open when I interjected. I asked if it was free. He obviously said no. So I told him to take it away. Then, with the dosa, a salad was placed on the table. “Free?” I asked. Again, no, so that went the same way as the water. After I finished a cup of tea was brought. I said, “You are joking. If this is free, leave it, if not just stop bringing things I’ve not ordered”. Trying it on once I can understand. Maybe twice even. But three times? After breakfast I went for a walk round and picked up my ‘steed’ for a few days – The heat though is quite debilitating. Not actually the heat as it is only low thirties, it’s the humidity. It feel like breathing warm treacle sometimes. Maybe I’ll be used to it in a few days but I don’t remember for a long time, with being used to the dry heat in Egypt and Jordan, having my teeth sweat. And my eyelashes. The bike makes it a bit easier because of the draught, also when near the coast as there is a bit of a wind coming off the sea. But down the back streets it is as the weather forecast I’ve seen. They stated the temperature was, say, 33 degrees, but the ‘real feel’ as they put it, was 42 degrees. I took this with a pinch of salt but it does seem fairly accurate. It reminds me of when I lived in Manila and seems quite worse than last time I was in Goa. Fort Kochi does remind me a little in parts of Kathmandu. The same kind of shops, selling the same things and the same tourists wandering round. Some here on a gap year or seemingly to have dropped out, some middle aged doing an organised tour, some with faces appearing to think, “What on earth am I doing here?” Here are a couple of shots of the backstreets – No visit to the town is complete with a few shots of the Chinese fishing nets. These are cantilevered in to the water using rocks as counter weights and then lifted back up again after a while to reclaim the fish caught. I was here many years ago and I’m sure this area was more impressive then, and cleaner. There are other things to see here but I’m mainly using the town as a staging post to set off elsewhere – I went for a walk along the sea front and stopped and had my lunch. Simply a garlic paratha, another of the flat breads, and a raita. This is a mixture of yoghurt, a few gentle spices and salt, and with small pieces of cucumber, tomato and onion cut up into it. Normally in restaurants in the UK you get a raita and it is about three spoonfuls in a small dish. These are in a breakfast sized bowl that you’d usually get your cornflakes in. Nearly a meal in itself and quite refreshing. I took a few shots as I walked. I’ll finish on that for now – I bet this was quite a house in its heyday, just behind the promenade –
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Post by bjd on Feb 22, 2016 12:25:24 GMT
I just looked up the location of Kochi on Google maps. The pictures that appear along the bottom of the page are nothing like yours -- mostly high-rise buildings and resorts. I prefer yours.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 22, 2016 12:40:21 GMT
Aha! And I know why......
Because the photos of high rises etc are not of "Fort Kochi". Look that one up and you'll see it's different. The main metropolitan area is called Kochi, otherwise Kochin or Cochin. It is, as expected, made up of different 'suburbs'. One is where I am, Fort Kochi, one is where you'll see the modern areas, this is Ernakulam. That is where a lot of people stay as supposedly accommodation is cheaper plus many don't know any different when they book it. That's where the photos are that you've seen. Not nice for walking round in though. Fort Kochi is far better, more scenic, atmospheric and easier to 'be' in. I know this, that's why when you come to India you need to do it with me. I'll show you the better and hidden bits.
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Post by mickthecactus on Feb 22, 2016 14:20:57 GMT
Fascinating! I would love to go to India but doubt I shall ever make it there.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 22, 2016 16:51:30 GMT
There are three rooms and a communal kitchen where I’m staying. I’m in one room, in the second is a young American couple, in the third is a young American woman. I heard them talking this evening in the kitchen, from my room. They didn’t know each other. The three are vegans, it comes to pass. Two are gluten intolerant and one is lactose intolerant. They were having a lengthy discussion about what they can and can’t eat.
I think I’m just intolerant.
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Post by bjd on Feb 22, 2016 17:28:49 GMT
Are they skinny?
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Post by Deleted on Feb 22, 2016 17:31:08 GMT
It is delightful how many 'weird food' people think that all of their needs will be met in India. I suppose that vegetarians are the least shocked.
I absolutely love your descriptions of your travels, Mark, but the moment you start posting pictures, it proves once again the adage of "a picture is worth a thousand words." So you might have to increase your word count.
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Post by htmb on Feb 22, 2016 21:26:11 GMT
Off to a great start, Mark!
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 23, 2016 3:33:11 GMT
bjd, two are slim but the male is a little overweight. I'm not sure he's got the hang of the thing yet. htmb, thanks. k2, the other alternative is to cut down on the pictures. If that will balance it out better?
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Post by tod2 on Feb 23, 2016 9:38:03 GMT
Wonderful story Mark! I love photos so keep em coming. It makes everything you tell us come to life!
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Post by mossie on Feb 23, 2016 14:10:31 GMT
I must admit the place would not be on any itinerary of mine, photos are enough for me to smell the place. Good luck to you Mark for being brave enough to try it out.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 24, 2016 4:36:40 GMT
Day 5 I think I’m going to sue Google Maps. Last night I checked my route up the coast for about 23km or so to where I’d be staying. It seemed straight forward enough but at a certain point, I had to turn left and then right and then dog leg left and right again to get on the right road. First though I had to catch a ferry. I loaded my bike up with my rucksack and tied it down, it was more bulk than weight but still a little awkward. I certainly didn’t want to have to ride with it on my back all the time. Just round the corner is a dosa shop, a little canteen type place that sells virtually nothing but dosas (a fermented crepe made from rice batter and black lentils) that has various fillings. The standard one is a masala dosa, a mild potato curry. Cost is around a Euro each. There are numerous local ferries leaving from Fort Kochi and I happened to be going on the shortest one. It is a journey of about a kilometre just across to the north to a place called Vypeen Island. Not strictly and island, more a peninsula. I’d left a bit later than I wanted because I couldn’t check in at the new place until 2pm, so I had plenty of time. The bad side is that the heat was starting to build up. I queued for a ticket, along with about twenty others and saw the ferry was just approaching the jetty for yet another run. The cost for me and the bike was five rupees, about Euro 0.06. We all slid on as the gate came down, along with a number of cars and jostled for position. Then settled down for the short journey. I wonder if the driver just paid for the vehicle or had to pay for the animal as well. It wasn’t a roll on roll off ferry even though there was a ramp at each end. This meant we had to time our turning round. I set off the other side at a steady pace, crossing over several small areas of the backwaters. The journey was quite pleasant and at a slower pace than I was normally used to in a car. The sights, sounds and smells were a lot more colourful and vibrant. The road was mostly quite peaceful as well. But, I was lulled into a false sense of security. Due to a lack of concentration I was sailing past my left turn. After a couple of kilometres I began to think I’d missed it. I was right. I turned round and retraced my steps. I needed to go down this new road for a couple of kilometres and then turn right. There was no right turn. I came to a dead end and turned round to look better. I shortly saw a slightly wider than normal path and fortunately someone was just emerging from it. I asked if the path went to my destination, he replied it didn’t. He offered that the only way was to go back to the main road and take a different road off it a few kilometres later. This then I had to do but by then I’d ridden and extra 6 kilometres with no overall advancement. Normally not a problem, but in the heat it was beginning to get uncomfortable. I found the new road, which appeared to link on to the ‘beach road’ that I needed to make it to my ‘homestay’. Google maps assured me that this route was suitable for a car. So not only had they sent me wrong in the first place they then sent me onto a road covered in sand. A true ‘beach road’…. That wasn’t the worst bit of it, in a car it may be doable but still difficult. On a push bike it meant walking most of the time and pushing it through the deep sand. Not easy in any weather never mind it being hot enough that NASA engineers came here to test the re-entry tiles on the space shuttles. I did pass an interesting temple though. Looks somewhat like The Gherkin in London. I plugged on and one and at one point was accosted by an eight or nine year old girl wanting me to take her photo or give her a pen. I don’t as a rule take photos of kids for the obvious though unfortunately modern reason of being a pervert. It never used to be. But I had no pen for her either. She was very cute and named Anila. We walked for a while, I asked her about school and other things. She was quite open and friendly but eventually had to turn back to home. I spent quite a while on this beach road with periodic walks on the beach to see the view. Not bad at all really. Just before my accommodation the piece of land I was on became thinner and thinner until on one side was the sea and on the other were the backwaters. There was just a thin strip of land with the road, or what passed for a road, on it. I trudged on and on and with just ten minutes or so to go I came across a couple of shops in front of a mosque. I needed a break so I stopped for some refreshment. For some reason I’d not had chance to have a proper glass of Indian tea so far. So I had two, just because I could. In the orange container on the table is water. Tap water. I’m sure it would be obvious for most that it probably isn’t in your best interests to drink this. I do, often as there may be no alternative in some of the out of the way places I go or on the roads I’d be driving along. I have been very lucky so far, fingers crossed, touch wood. Not recommended though. This is the type of place I normally stop at, two or three tables on the street. I don’t often have the fish tanks though. You can see the menu in red to the top right. A few pictures and writing I don’t understand. I usually know the words though if they say them as it’ll refer to some form of dish. I returned here later for my evening meal. I try not to eat where I stay partly because I then feel I never went anywhere in the evening and partly because in these out of the way places it is expected you would eat at the hotel rather than venture in to the streets and have to search round. Quite often I have strange and slightly offended looks from the hotel proprietor when he’s asked when I want dinner and I’ve told him I don’t. So later I went back and may have made a little mistake. It only had one dish which was chicken biryani. I don’t eat the meat here, but this time I did as it was the only thing available. And it was tasty. We’ll see if I suffer for it later. But, the biggest threat to my health and welfare is mosquitos, of which they are rampant here. Why, oh why, then do they build places, especially when building or converting to a guest house, do they do the following. You can see the back wall of my bathroom. Notice a window? And a above it? A square hole with no netting or anything in it? Then in the main bedroom, at the top of each wall is a slit, again with no covering. However, there are some scenic buildings around here that could be made into something special. By the way, you know the word ‘bungalow’ is derived from India, either Hindi or Gujarati? Lastly a quick photo of the sun setting from the balcony of the guest house with the sea across the beach road and the retaining wall.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 24, 2016 4:40:01 GMT
Mossie, yes there are bad smells, but actually less than you'd think.
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Post by bixaorellana on Feb 24, 2016 5:29:48 GMT
Finally started on this fascinating thread. You really hit your stride with those ferry pictures, Mark. I love the one with everyone looking behind. What's that about? The ox(?) on the yellow truck is great, too.
No fans in the rooms? They are are a great way to keep the mosquitoes off.
Is it churlish to admit that I'm in the count-me-out-for-India camp? But my lack of desire to physically be there will not keep me from enjoying your diary -- it's wonderful armchair travel.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 24, 2016 7:46:16 GMT
An ox is known as a bullock in India, but for the life of me I've no idea if the photo is of one of them or a young water buffalo, of which there are millions here. I'd tend to think of the latter.
On the ferry all the cars had reversed on so were ready for going straight forward when we stopped at the other end. All the motorbikes and anything else were held back until the cars were on. Then it was a mad scramble for space. At the disembarkation point the cars had to wait for the bikes to get off as they were blocked in by them. Of course on approaching the jetty it was an undisciplined rabble, me included, that needed to turn round to get off, amongst the impatient blaring of the car horns. They are all turning round because we at that time were within just a few metres of the jetty and they were timing their engine starting, turning around the bikes and flying off as though they won a prize for being the first off. They do actually, but it's just kudos for beating everyone else.
Yes there are fans, or rather a fan, in the room and they do help quite well, but not all of you is covered by the draught all the time, especially when you nip to the toilet.
You're not alone with not wanting to go to India, but Bixa, you venture far and wide in Mexico and I'd bet you most things and feelings wouldn't be too far apart especially in the rural areas.
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