Khajuraho-Delhi

Hey guys! Sorry about the delay in postings. Im currently in the Pravati valley which is best described as "Amsterdam 200 years ago". Anyway that will have to wait for the next blog. Back to this one.

Well as I said, I left Khajuraho the next morning to go to Jhansi. The train journey was by and large scenic and uneventful. However I did meet a fellow Brit, Lee. He was a really quiet and introverted kind of guy. He grew up in a really run-down part of London and was struggling to find a job so decided to go travelling. Upon discussing how he financed his trip (not a usual topic of discussion but we were on the subject of poker and it crept up) he revealed he was a shit hot poker player and had played online for about 5 years and so had generated the cash that way. With my basic knowledge and serious interest in poker; Lee proved to be a valuable asset! (ps Im not planning to finance my next trip that way mind, the bank of mom and dad are by far more reliable sources of income!!)

Jhansi is an uncharismatic and rather dirty town. The only thing going for it was that it was the starting point for the taxi/bus to Orchha. Lee and I settled down for the night in a crappy old hotel not far from the train station. The next day we had a little walk around Jhansi, but the scorching heat (45 celsius) proved too much and it was only a little walk before we headed off to catch a cab to Orchha. We arrived in Orchha to a carnival like atmosphere. Turns out we had arrived in the middle of a large festival that was going to go on for another few days. I chose to stay on the main road, close to the action, great for people watching. Lee had been in big cities for quite a while and so chose to go stay in a quieter part of the town.

After lunch, where I met a British father and son who decided to go travelling during the Easter holidays, I went to the main palace. The architecture was very similar to the red fort of Agra, but the views across the surrounding forests and farmland "made it". I then ventured out into the ruins next to the palace which were rather interesting to poke around in. I spent some time chatting to the curator of the local museum gauging the history of the area and palace however his English wasn't great and my Hindi was non-existent; but it was fun nevertheless and he offered to take me round the museum the next day as it was closed that day because of the festival. I rocked on back to the hotel and got prepped for the night's festivities in the main square outside the temple.

After dinner I bought some cake off a local vendor and had a really nice chat with him about what was to come that night. On a side note it turned out I committed a minor religious faux-pas in eating the cake. Gorgeous though it was, its intended destination was supposed to be the main Hindu temple. I hope the gods didn't mind. That night was the turn of the holy men to preach and sing. They had been brought in from around the country with their fee going towards the upkeep of their Ashram (these are spiritual communities, much like monasteries). The crowd sat patiently on floor and chairs in front of the main stage. The three old men made their way on to their respective positions. They preached and sang about Hindu mythology (I was told) and really got the crowd going with clapping, singing along and the occasional Mexican wave!

The next day I walked down to the waterside cenotaphs (ghats). These were deserted and it was pretty cool to have the entire place to myself. The views over the river were spectacular and quite something to behold. The locals and Indian holiday makers were all swimming in the river having a real whale of a time. I hitched lift on the back of a local's motorbike as the day was scorching hot and I really couldn't be bothered to walk back to town. I met Lee in town and we decided to go check out a large temple like structure we had both seen from the palace. After a half hour walk, we found it was closed. Well it was an "Indian closing time" so we slipped the guy 40 Rupees (50p). We had the place all to ourselves. Turns out it was the best 20 Rs I had spent. The views were incredible from the top and we were treated to the best sunset I have ever seen over the mountains (pictures will be up on Picasa shortly).

Well Lee and I split once again. He went off to the ghats to see them at dusk and I went back to the village to watch the night times entertainment. This night times performance was a play. A play about 5 hours in length and apparently a very famous one to! All the locals knew pretty much all the words but I could only just about follow the plot with my non-existent Hindi. I gave up after about 3 hours seeing no end in sight of the play. I can only wonder what happened to the great warrior king...

The next day I decided to go to Bhopal. After a rather boring and bland train journey I arrived in a very run down and dull place; infact the question was often posed to me during my stay there by locals "why have you come to Bhopal? Just why?" Well I replied it was a very interesting place, they looked surprised. Indeed the reason I went there is rather boring itself. I have had the Union carbide disaster in Bhopal as a case study every year for three years for geography (Gcse, As and A levels) and so I reasoned that having studied this depressing place in great detail; knowing probably more than a local tour guide, I might as well go see it whilst I was nearby.

I checked into a respectable hotel on one of the main streets with views into the car park...how lovely I thought. The next day I made the walk to the plant, only 2 km from my room. My ideas of having to correct tour guides with my bank of knowledge of the disaster were rather incorrect. In fact there were no guided tours of the plant. There was not even a plaque for the 5,500 dead or any sort of memorial. The towering industrial chimneys and bland square-box buildings were the only reminder, caged inside a large security wall. People still to this day live next to the site and as a result of the town still yet to be "cleaned up" suffer terrible skin conditions especially but also kids are born today with severe mutations. The price we have to pay?

Alas I shall not dwell upon the arguments for and against industrialization. I saw a water tower under construction (it was about 60 metres high and was just the base with the actual water container yet to be installed, ill try and post a picy) a hundred yards from the plant. I wished to see the full scale of the place and hopefully get a few nice picies as well. I approached the three workers who were having a beadie and chai. On a side note a beadie is a very cheap Indian cigarette consisting of poor quality tobacco wrapped in a dried tobacco leaf (may be some other leaf) with no filter and are incredibly popular. Chai is effectively very milky and sweet tea which is equally popular often flavoured with cinnamon and other spices. Anyway I asked them if I could walk up the first flight of stairs and take a photo.

Unsurprisingly their English was non-existent and they insisted on taking me all the way to the top. Well I arrived at a the top of the 2 banister-less flights of stairs and ascended a small ladder onto a small platform just a metre below the main platform on which they were working on. Well I don't have a fear of heights but something was definitively kicking in! I asked if they could walk out to the other side facing the plant and take a photo. After 30 seconds or so the "oh sod it" thought came to my head and I climbed up from the relative safety of the lower platform onto the maze of planks with a 60 metre drop either side of me. There's no adrenaline rush like knowing certain death awaits with a slip! (ps I dont actually seek these "rushes", it just sort cropped up!) I made it across to the other side where some sheets of steel provided a makeshift platform. However despite the danger, the view of the city of Bhopal was incredible and the guys explained the various sights with the use of hand signals. The view plant on the other hand was really interesting. One could only see a few of the buildings and the towering spires of the former works which on one hand was really disappointing but the reason for this was that the absence of human occupation in the preceding 30 years had caused a miniature forest and ecosystem to develop encased in the walls. This created quite a poignant image of what most towns might look like if we were to just die out. Very strange.

Anyway that night I met an American girl called Emily in the foyer of my hotel. We decided to go out for dinner that night. However we decided to check out this local boozer just down the road. This was the first thing resembling a pub I had found in India. Well I say it was a pub, it was just a guy pulling pints behind a small bar with everybody standing around chatting. We stayed for a draught pint (25 rs, bargain!) which was rather refreshing. However we were advised by a kind local that we should leave after our pint as quote "dodgy places attract dodgy people" and that Emily was probably the first woman to visit this place. Anyway we then walked to a restaurant and as we entered we were waved at by this traveller. In a town not famed for its tourism we joined him at his table for a chat.

His name was Rob and he was a really nice 26 year old Irish bloke from Dublin with the true gift of the gab! Anyway this chance encounter resulted in Rob and I travelling together for the next month. Well the three of us had a great evening together culminating in drinking considerable quantities of Old Monk Rum and coke on top of the hotel having a really good deep conversation often going off on some random tangent.

Anyway the next day Emily left as she was moving into a homestay with one of her tutors. She was doing a term in India and doing a short course in Bhopal. I met up with rob again and we ventured on down into Bhopal. It was a pretty colourful and authentic Indian town with generally people just happy to see us. Upon recommendation of the Lonely planet we ate a local restaurant. The place had no name but was distinguishable by the palm tree motif outside the front door. The place was rather quirky in many respects but the thali was awesome and truly unlimited. Me and rob stumbled out of there filled to the brim!

The next day we departed by train for Delhi as we decided to move up north along with the rest of the Indian traveller cohort as the weather was far too hot in the south. The train journey was by and large unremarkable as it was a sleeper. We arrived in Delhi in the early morning and proceeded to go the Nirvana hostel to sort out tickets for our travel north. Also some of you who follow this blog and can sort of map out where I have been will see I made a rather "pointless" circle. It's kind of like dipping your toe in the bath to find out it is too hot and deciding to pour in some cold water. Dont get me wrong I saw some really amazing places and met some really cool people but the heat of the day often was a real struggle and so I joined the mass migration northwards. Hehe kind of pointless story there.

Anyway sorry I didn't get round to telling you about the journey north with rob. I thought this was a good place to break finishing this loop. But dont get me wrong I have been rather slow to update this blog. I'm now in McLeod Ganj; the home of His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama. Thought I would give his full title, he is after all, a pretty big cheese around here. Anyway the next blog consisting of the journey from Delhi to the Pravati valley will be up shortly (touch wood).

Admin: I have a new mobile phone number! This is it 00919736779339. Feel free to call me or drop us a text anytime you like (bear in mind it's like a 7 hour time difference to the UK) so keep it reasonable folks!! I have also decided I'm going to probably come back to ol'blighty late August (departure destination unknown) to see my friends, finish my motorbike licence, go to weddings and anniversaries before Bristol Uni takes my freedom!! It's also exam "season" in the UK, best of luck to my brother and any others struggling through! Remember your life does not depend on it- may I refer you to "the paradox of our age" by H.H. the 14^th Dalai Lama. Really rings home living in our western society. Anyway keep well and keep in touch folks!!

Agra-Khajuraho

So as I said in the last blog, I arrived in the backpackers hostel in Agra. To say it was a hostel was a bit rich; more of a hotel with individual rooms and what not, but the rooms did surround a central courtyard where I met some pretty cool people. I arrived on Thursday at about 12. Still soaked in sweat from the train journey (previous blog) I took a shower then ordered some Thali (plate of various bits of food, staple diet in India) and got chatting to two nice girls from Germany. Well the conversation got on to how long I was staying in Agra.

“Today, then leave tomorrow night I think”

“And have you seen the Taj MahaL?”

“Nope, was going to save that for tomorrow morning, you know less tourists and try catch the sunrise, should be epic!”

“But don’t you know its closed on Friday’s?”

“Bollocks”

Off I shot to the Taj by cycle rickshaw. I made it there with about 20 mins before the ticket desk closed.
I entered into the grounds and was not disappointed. The Taj is beautiful. It is set upon a platform so that from whichever side you look at it the background is always blue sky. I spent a good few hours there. I kind of wished I had seen it in the morning as the throngs of tourists “polluted” the photos I took. However, photos are not the be all and end all of visits, the memories of that building will stay with me for a long time.
I met my first English guys since the start of my trip at the Taj. A couple of 20 year old lads from Leeds. They had paid a vast sum (by Indian standards) to be driven around Rajasthan by a private driver. Seemed a bit of a waste but they said they loved the experience of visiting these small towns with a guy who speaks Hindi.

Was so nice though to hear a familiar voice and be able to have a good conversation in fluent British English, we exchanged details and agreed to meet some point in the future as they had to go back to their driver.
I made my way back to my hotel at night exhausted from the experiences of the day; I slept for a couple hours before going to the courtyard for dinner. I got chatting to this nice guy from Portsmouth (I was on a roll today for meeting English people!!) He was really friendly and interesting. He took a gap year, started uni at Manchester, dropped out not liking the course and then has taken a second gap year and is now going to do building surveying at Reading.

The next day we chose to do a day trip to Fatehpur Sikri with this French girl called Veronica. She was fairly introverted unlike me and Tom. She kind of followed us like an annoying kid completely engrossed in her Le Guide du Routard (the French answer to the lonely planet guide. The bus pulled off the main highway onto a smaller road. The ruins of the old town became quickly visible as we passed through an arch in the fortress walls.

Our first port of call was a large truly stunning mosque. We were shown round by a stone carver who worked there; he explained all the intricacies and the various aspects of its history. The mosque in many ways was very similar to the ones I had visited in the Middle East (faced east, had minarets and shoes removed before entering), however differed in many ways as well having features obviously taken from other cultures (such as some Hindi carved on the walls as explained by the guy and also sales of goods to tourists occurring inside the courtyard which was frowned upon by the security and holy men but seemingly prevalent).

We then rocked over to the palace. The place was intricately designed, expansive and beautiful. The grounds were wonderfully maintained and the flowers in blossom, totally unique experience. We made our way to the bus station. We waited and waited. Veronica assured us that there would be a bus here at 4 going to Agra according to Routard so we sat and waited. The locals assured us that we should walk up the main road and flag a bus down going the right way. At 4:30 we convinced Veronica Le Guide du Routard was probably wrong and that the one quoted at 5 would most likely not turn up either. She looked almost tearful. It was like the love of her life had let her down, he had cheated and left. Tom and I just giggled at this 29 year old that obviously had a lot to learn!

As the locals said, we flagged the bus down going the right way to Agra. Veronica looked even less pleased with the bus actually turning up and going the right way. Upon entering Agra town me and tom saw a cricket match taking place. We made a spontaneous decision to jump off and go play. The kids and young teens were obviously excited about 2 whities coming down to join their game. Tom (a brilliant county cricketer) took the crease and whalloped the delivery for 6 that took forever to recover. I (a shite cricketer) then took the crease and they obviously changed bowler expecting me to be just as good as Tom. I said good bye to my middle stump first ball. We chatted with them for abit and bowled a few balls back. However as we left one of the kids asked us for money (to which we refused) then it seemed as if everyone wanted to see if they could get in on the act. Kind of spoiled the moment and we beat a hasty retreat back to the hotel.


That night we had a great meal on the street with Veronica and the two nice Germans. Central, non-touristy agra has a large thriving community of businesses selling stir-fries and tandoorie meals. We chose the most popular hut and the price was dirty cheap but the food was excellent. We got some beers from a local shop and took them back for desert. Tom and I guzzled our way through a good couple of cans of Kingfisher draught, but the German girls made us look puny in comparison. The Germans certainly can handle their booze!!
The day after me and Tom ditched veronica and headed off to the Red fort. The fort was beautiful with great views over the Taj at the Eastern side. The fort was stunning and we both felt it was well worth seeing!
Ps. A word of warning to would be tourists/travellers in India- Indian monuments and places of note will often have “sound and light shows” advertised. I met several duped by ticket salesmen to go and see them. Think not multi-million dollar setup with lasers and Sir Simon Rattle scripted music; rather kids disco lights, crappy music and all strung out for 1 hour to for fill the promises made by the ticket salesmen. If you wish a sound and light show at night at one of these monuments I recommend finding a nice spot to view them under moon light, an MP3 player and a head torch!!

Next we chose to go to Khajuraho, Veronica was going the same way so she tagged along. Going from the hotel to the station we had to catch an auto-rick. I looked outside with 45 mins to go, only to notice, no auto rick, no taxis, nothing!! We grabbed our stuff and sprinted to the junction to try and find something however there was nothing bar private cars and motorbikes! I said we should just see if we can hitch it, otherwise we were kind of screwed for this train! Tom was game, Victoria was too engrossed in Le routard to notice we were late to which me and Tom laughed. Hearing this Veronica glanced up, perplexed at our laughter then went to the book. Between us we flagged down a bloke in a tiny car, we piled in, his wife piled out and sat at the side of the road with her watermelon not looking overly joyed at being thrown out of her own car by hitchhikers but her husband insisted. We made it there in the nick of time, thanked the guy profusely and climbed aboard the train to settle down for the night.


The moment we arrived in Khajuraho we realised business was obviously slow and so were instantly set upon by touts. We went with a guy who seemed to have the best deal, 150RS a night (£2.50) and a central location. Veronica agreed happily as it was in her guide and sounded good. We arrived to find Routard had not let us down. The place was clean, but did have the feel it had seen better days.

After settling down in my room I went out into the courtyard. Tom came down the stairs from the roof in a fit of giggles. I asked what was up. Tom went up there to check out the views across the lake and mountains and had found Veronica. He told me she had read in the guide that this place served welcome tea on the roof, and so had deposited her bag in the room and made her way up to the roof in the blazing mid-day heat (46 celsius we were told) of Indian Summer to claim her complimentary tea. She had been waiting at least 20 minutes when he found her, burnt by the sun and suffering terribly! All the staff were down stairs in the lobby with the curtains tightly drawn shut and invited me and Tom in for “welcome tea”.

Veronica who had now been waiting for this welcome tea on the roof for over half an hour came down into the lobby, obviously exhausted, and saw me and Tom sipping tea with the staff, we smiled, she didn’t, and beat a hasty retreat into her room, probably tearful, le guide had cheated on her again, grr!!!

Tom and I then set out to Raneh falls by bicycle we rented out for 50RS each. The mid-day conditions were close to intolerable albeit a slight cooling wind but after a good hour cycling through some lovely countryside we made it there. The man at the ticket office pointed out the way. As we cycled into the nature reserve we spotted a huge mass of black objects flying up from the ground into the air then swirling around. I suggested it maybe a starling flock. The mass was travelling from left to right from our perspective and about to cross the road shortly in front of us. We stopped just short of where we expected it to cross the road and noticed as it approached that it was not birds, but leaves, it was a TORNADO! Albeit a small one only capable of picking up leaves, dust and twigs but still quite impressive to see it just 20 yards in front of us! We should have cycled into it; I mean it wasn’t obviously capable of picking up anything of any weight, but it passed too quickly, we lost track of it and could no longer hear its jet engine style noise (a small jet though).

Thrilled, we continued on our bikes along the dusty road to the falls and arrived there in the afternoon. We walked along the dried out river bed (the river is monsoonal, at the moment there were just puddles). Still we saw pictures of what it was like full flow and were very impressed, we would have been 50 ft under! The wildlife was all around and we saw pretty much everything; colourful parakeets, small bee-eaters, lizards, herds of 8ft tall antelope, spotted deer, peacocks and lizards.

We stopped at the museum/viewing platform and were planning to go back when a tuk-tuk pulled up. The people were French and knowing how the French treated cyclists I asked if we could hitch a lift back to Khajuraho with them and put the bikes on top. They wilfully obliged but said they were first going a couple of miles down a dirt track to see the alligators and Gharial and asked if we wished to join them, otherwise they would pick us and the bikes up on the way back. We jumped at the chance! Me and Tom decided that we should not spoil their comfortable tuk-tuk ride and chose to ride on the back, with our feet in the open boot and holding onto the top railings, which was the best decision we made that day!

The guy weaved his along this dirt track stopping every so often so the frogs could see the wildlife in so creating an auto-rickshaw safari but me and Tom had the best views and would help to act as spotters with our birds eye view. A totally unique and cheap way to see wildlife, why countries like South Africa still insist on taking their safari guests in air conditioned jeeps, is beyond me! The tuk-tuk safari is by far and away the best thing not invented!! We made it to the look-out spot which looked out onto a sort of canyon. After almost giving up trying to spot on, after 20 mins one of the frogs proclaimed “Regarde!” (ps it was something in French, everyone knew what he had seen though!) I borrowed their binoculars and low and behold, it was a young Alligator (nobody had binoculars good enough to distinguish what variety it
was as its head was turned slightly away but the consensus was that it was a alligator, not the more reclusive and rare Gharial).

Thrilled but gutted we didn’t see the rare Gharial we jumped back on our tuk-tuk and proceeded to go back. We threw the bikes on top of the tuk-tuk and me and tom held onto them as we made our way back to Khajuraho! We gave them back and had a bevie, satisfied with our day’s achievements.

The next day we spent walking round the Western group of temples. They were particularly impressive with the Karma Sutra carvings on the side of them, a real eye opener for two sweet naive boy’s... Tom and I spent a good hour or so there and picked up a few ideas on route! He then chose to leave to go to Udaipur and some of Rajastan. I wanted to stay longer and look around the Eastern temple group and go to a Hindu Festival that night. The festival that night...oh son it was nuts!! It all started in the early afternoon with long motorcycle parades with men waving orange flags and wearing orange headbands all juggling for position behind a small truck with a massive speaker set pumping out the heaviest Indian tunes!

After the rides died down I then made my way to a gathering on a side street. The women were all sitting on the floor on one side of the street, the men on chairs on the other. Men who felt “god come to them” went absolutely crazy and entered some trance like state . They screamed, took their tops off, ran into an inconspicuous door, ran out, and then back in and so on. They were given something resembling a cat-of-nine-tails in order to whip their backs all whilst the spikes were sharpened. The beat increased and these four guys continued to whip themselves faster and faster. I was sitting up on a roof and had an excellent view. The young men then along with the aid of a helper pierced the side of their mouths with a spear with a diameter the size of a nice fat Cuban cigar. Blood gushed onto the street. The young men were then paraded on the end of the poles through the streets to the Hindu temple, I followed. The festival lasted most of the night; I retired to bed after a short time, but not after being interviewed by a local TV network!!


The next day, along with a nice French girl called Beatrice I cycled around the Eastern group of Temples and the old town of Khajuraho. These were not that dissimilar to the Western ones, but just less tourists. It was a really pleasant day out. The following morning I departed for Jhansi. That will have to wait for the next blog!
The job. Some of you may have heard I had a job in Khajuraho. Well I say a job. The owner was complaining about having fewer guests than he used to. I said I would help, in return for free board and lodgings. I started the process of putting him on hostel world and wrote letters on his behalf to the Lonely Planet. I also did him an excel spreadsheet for his staff to use to organize bookings and gave advice to his staff on customer service. All pretty bland stuff, but hell, it was easy and the food he gave me was delicious, mango pickles, dhal, roti and fluffy rice 3 times a day!

Admin: My Indian sim has been cut off for violation of rule 277 or some crap. Basically I bought it and registered it to the Nirvana hostel in Delhi and didn’t really think anything more of it. I then get a call on a noisy train and the guy wants to confirm my address. I tell the guy to call me back in an hour as I couldn’t hear him and also I didn’t have the address at the moment. He didn’t bother. 5 Days later I get a text message saying that I hadn’t completed a form and so they have decided to cut me off! There goes the £4 of credit I still had on the phone! Not really admin, more of a gripe against the pointless bureaucracy of the Indian government and Airtel my Indian sim provider. But if you had my Indian number, it wont work no more! So for the moment make do with email(shakethelake@hotmail.com, Facebook and English mobile number).