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Ok folks,
it's done, I have survived India, but even more importantly, I have survived the devastating battle with sporadic internet access, blogger's nerve-wreckingly disfuncional software, and a runaway DVD that's been playing hide and seek with me for almost two weeks. Boy what I've been through ...

Anyway, I'm proud to present a selection of our memoires, let the photos speak for themselves. Feel free to inquire if you think they don't say enough.

Namaste!

one for the road, Helsinki

bazaar, Mumbai

the monsoon, Jhansi

general store, Mumbai

wiring

average meal

mouthwash

Indian Railways

Indian roads

Deccan Plateau

beautiful landscape, Sanchi

not so beautiful landscape, Bhopal

stupa, Sanchi

shopping centre, Khajuraho

erotic carvings, Khajuraho

drive-in office

Holy City, Varanasi

Holy River, Ganges

Holy Cow

Holy Corpse

Taj Mahal

a wanderer wondering at a wonderful wonder

Indian family, Agra

Indian women, Chandigarh

Indian children, Jaisalmer

Indian cousins, Punjabi Express

monkey

Thar desert

camel

freeloaders

desert squid

sunscreen

frisbee

desert storm

fire in the hole!

missing in driveby

There's a reason I left this blog unattended for so long. OK, there are many; anyway, it's easy to notice that things got a little out of hand.

First I owe my apologies to everyone that was waiting patiently for any pictures to appear. No, my camera didn't get stolen again, because, for safety reasons, this time I didn't take one with me. I did, however, mispack (not lost!) the DVD containing pictures from the other three cameras that my mates were carrying. Of course I haven't been able to retrieve it yet.

Apparently I underestimated my level of disorganisation after coming back from India. The end of festival summer in Ljubljana affected my nightlife, turning my last days into a packing race, and reminding me once more to dejunk my life. I was hoping to find a reset button in Luxembourg, but instead I've landed into an even bigger mess, very blogworthy on its own. I'll have plenty to write about once the pace settles a little. (Though something tells me it's only just started ...)

At the moment, I'd settle for finding the DVD with 4GB of memories, although a lot more is stored in my brain. I wish I had a USB plug behind my ear so that I could share those on the blog ... But until some Mengele out there comes up with that, I'll keep looking for that DVD.

land of a thousand flavours

This post got delayed because it needed some editing.

The idea was to write about food, which deserves special attention in any mention of India. I am still exploring the endless possibilities on offer from rooftop restaurant menus. All of it vegetarian; in fact, I haven't had meat in three weeks apart from a Tibetan chicken soup, but please don't tell my mum about it. Of course I miss certain homemade stuff only she knows how to make properly, but all in all I've enjoyed every thali we've had so far, especially one made on open fire out in the desert.

We took a camel safari in Jaisalmer, a beautiful outpost in the Thar desert near the Pakistan border. The camel jockeys turned out to be excellent cooks; even camel farts could not spoil our appetite. Tea was just as superior; it was prepared with fresh milk, which we obtained from some goats grazing in the area. Chasing them down provided a little extra fun and exercise.

Now, any talk about exotic food inevitably includes abdominal response to it. I was about to proudly announce that our intestines have only staged a couple of minor mutinies, with no major impact on our travel, not counting that I subsequently decided to take it easy with hot spices.

But then we succumbed, and it was at this point I needed to rewrite my report. It was probably water; anyhow, at the time of writing, I have just recovered after a day of total purification, while two men are still down and barely travelable.

The health issues got us stranded in Chandigarh, capital of Punjab and Haryana, a weird geometrical grid of concrete blocks and wide avenues. Completely opposite from any other Indian city, it's impossible to miss that the mastermind behind it was le Corbusier, who somehow forgot that summers in this region are ferocious, making his concrete dream uninhabitable without expensive air-conditioning.

The city's restaurants offer by far the largest meals we've had so far, but we are now unable to enjoy them. It also lies just short of the Himalayas, which was to be our next destination, but the indigestion-stricken team is unlikely to survive the windy bus ride to Shimla. I've also just read reports of flooding and landslides in the area, with people dead and missing, so it probably wasn't such a good idea to go there anyway.

So we're taking the next express train to Delhi, our last stop and point of departure from India, finishing our trip the way we started it - by chilling out on the rooftop of another overheated, chaotic urban sprawl of over 10 million people.

take me to the river

Our expedition has found a new purpose. The monsoon is late this year, which presents a danger of food shortage to rural India. We haven't noticed, though, having experienced heavy and lengthy showers throughout the trip. However, wherever we come, the locals explain they haven't seen rain in a month. It is clear now: the rain has been following us through the subcontinent. We are rain gods, we bring rain wherever we go!

We haven't failed so far, and despite the reports about floods with hundreds of casualties and millions displaced, peasants jump with joy like children when they see rain falling on dried out rice fields.

We are flattered to be gods' aides, and I'm sure that the gods think we're cool guys, because they led us to the centre of their universe, their sacred city. Varanasi is one of the oldest cities in the world, with its narrow alleys scrambled along the banks of river Ganges. This is the place where pilgrims from across the subcontinent descend the stone staircases, called “ghats", to take a ritual bath in the river.

Many pilgrims come to the city to live through the final days here. Our lodge was situated just above the Burning Ghat, the place where the dead are cremated. It takes a lot of wood to burn a body, and many cannot afford it. Donations by the faithful or visitors compensate for that; still, some bodies end up in the river along with many carcasses of cows and dogs, all of which we had the opportunity to witness during our early morning boat ride. Another thing we witnessed simultaneously was people bathing, swimming, washing clothes, and even brushing their teeth in the very same river, polluted enough as it is by industry, chemicals, sewage and garbage.

So folks, this much I can say: Robin Williams was right (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5CjtZwU5Wbo), there is a cure for bioterrorism, and it lies not within Keith Richards, but within Hindus, a people whose idea of cleansing is a bath in one of the most polluted rivers on the planet.

Team India

OK, it's time I present the team that is working it's way through noisy bazaars and around big cows in narrow alleys.

In the left corner, wearing a light red striped shirt - Sebastijan, better known as Muc. Being the first one up in the morning, his job is to wake up everybody else for the early train. He's also mosquitos' favourite meal, which diverts them away from us.

Standing next to him is Dean, aka BookWorm, although electronics (ie. cables) account for the better part of his luggage. His hair is a major sight for locals, but the stubble successfully averts marriage proposals. Enjoys organizing frisbee and hacky-sack events, one of them staged in front of the Taj Mahal.

In the right corner, wearing a grey t-shirt and taking the photo, is Big Guy Daniel. In charge of the travel bank. A giant in local terms, also serves well as landmark in crowds. Knows his way with cables and protects us from funky Indian wiring.

To the left, wearing a beige t-shirt, is Andrej the Kid. Youngest but bravest, spent a whole day on his own in the streets of Varanasi and survived a monsoon shower in Mumbai with nothing but a rosy umbrella. Hired for remembering names of places and objectively documenting the adventures of fellow travelers in a separate journal, not open for public.

Missing from the photo is the fifth member on the team, Squiddy the octopus. On this occasion he drank too much booze and could not participate in the photo session.

This intermediate serves to fill a little writer's block, but there are soon more reports coming, so stay tuned!

ancient temple of bureaucracy

Needless to say, India is an old country. Foundations of this culture were first written down as far back as four millenia ago. I suppose the age has given its society more than enough time to develop a good deal of complexity. This is particularly evident in India's deeply rooted social stratification, consisting of over 3000 social classes. However, Team India has had a closer experience with another complex feature - unbelievably elaborated paperwork.

Despite the overwhelming chaos I've been mentioning, observing rules is not alien to Indians. Trains follow their schedule, the bus will not wait if you decide to take a last minute leak, prices are often not negotiable. This is because basically everything apart from buying street curios gets written down. With your name on it. And date and place of birth. The name of your father (I love this one). And passport number and validity; often visa number, type and validity; all of which I can write down in my sleep by now.

Checkin procedures at hotels are painfully lengthy, especially when you feel there's a big dump pushing its way round the last corner after a several-hour bus ride. But not just at hotels; tourist sites, railways - any place owned by the government will first push two big books at us. And internet cafes. I've seen signs blaming it on the threat of terrorism, probably due to the Kashmir conflict; anyway, I guess that controlling world's second most populous country is challenging so it takes a big and awkward apparatus. And a lot of paper.

I don't know what happens with all that paper, but I remember reading an article once about the state government of Bihar in eastern part of India. The offices were stacked with huge amounts of paper all the way to the ceiling, and the officials claimed they could find any document required. One of the piles consisted solely of requests by the same officials for a business trip to Delhi, and they even had an employee whose full-time job was to go through these requests and to decide about granting state-covered accommodation for the traveller.

Ok, no more second-hand stories, here's a genuine first-hand one about the previously appraised Indian Railways. We took a train from Vidisha to Jhansi, a 4-hour ride. I should point out that Indian Railways offer no less than seven different classes of travel. Now, since Vidisha is a small station, they were not equipped with a computerized booking system so the only tickets they claimed they could sell us were "general class" tickets - yep, that's the lowest one, I mean goats and chickens and everything. And some really nice people, I must say.

Anyway, we agreed that with our budget, a 4-hour sardine ride was an unnecessary adventure, so we tried to upgrade to second class on the train. There was no conductor for almost an hour, only a security lady who instructed us to simply board the second-class car and explain the situation. Which we did. Half an hour before Jhansi, the conductor finally came and kindly explained that the fine for doing this was 1300 rupees (roughly 25 euro), which was almost four times the price of the tickets. Complaining didn't work, returning to general class probably wouldn't either, so we paid. And, admitedly after a struggle, actually got a receipt.

To avoid future problems, Dan asked what the correct procedure was for upgrading to a higher class. The answer he got was that we were supposed to get out to the platform at one of the stations and hailed the conductor to let us in the second-class car. Of course, if we had a second-class ticket, there would be no problem upgrading it to any other class. Only the general class has no room for improvisation.

There was no time for further inquiries, and conductors on trains carrying 2500 people must be very busy men. But my next question would have been if the request was to be handed in on paper.

New Mumbai

As we arrived, we didn't have a plan at all because we had all had a notoriously busy week before the trip. So our first goal was pretty simple: to get a good rest and to get a general feeling about the place.

No adrenaline rushes - buying the train tickets made the day successful, and each meal we had gave it an extra spice. A visit to one of the city's many incredibly rich bazaars is adventurous enough, especially during a several hour heavy downpour. Included in the adventure were somewhat less expected, and uncalled for, "services", as for example a death wish we received from a baksheesh hunter trying viciously to sell us cigarettes, and head-on collision with a motorcycle. Both ended with minor harmless bruises, one mental, the other physical.

It was obviously another huge change when we called up a contact, Mr. Hegde, a businessman living and working in the suburbs. He sent a chauffer to fetch us downtown, and after driving through a jumble of dilapidated Victorian style houses, huge shanty-towns and occasional curiously narrow skyskrapers for an hour and a half, we reached what is called New Mumbai, an oriental-style high-rise area, housing another 2 million people. Slovenia is but a suburb.

The day was more on the easy side, including a good meal, an informative meeting with Mr. Hegde (it wasn't really that formal, but none of us remembers the guys name), a relatively comfortable ride through Mumbai and a drop-off at the train station. No threats, no accidents, and we were quite happy with that.

In a couple of hours or so, we will be experiencing another contrast - we're heading towards a supposedly very calm place called Sanchi, near Bhopal, 800 km outside Mumbai. We've already done the better part of the trip - a 14-hour ride in a second class sleeper, a somewhat crowded but surprisingly effective and insanely cheap service by Indian Railways. And, may I say, with cleaner toilets than Slovenian second class.

I am still unable to upload any images, so the adventures of the misterious Team India will be showcased at a later point. Bye!

surviving the first day

Not incidentally, our flight to India included a 22-hour stop in Helsinki. Culture shock addicts will understand the extra boost that a visit to one of the quietest, coldest and roomiest lands of the world gives to the kick of being engulfed by tropical heat and total chaos, the first wave of which comes at you full throttle in the form of a million taxi drivers and beggars. The contrast gives a good shake to all the body systems and senses.

Mumbai is arguably on top of the list of the most congested places on the planet. 16 million people are crowding on a peninsula the size of a middle sized European city, all somehow finding a living in the chaotic sprawl of streets where even taxi drivers have difficulties getting around. Chaotic but promising - Mumbai is India's economic capital, accounting for over a third of the national BDP. Whether it's computer software, a share of fame in Bollywood or scrapheap challenge in one of Mumbai's many slums, the city seems to fulfill just enough dreams to keep the river of immigrants, fed by nationwide periphery, flowing.

The chaos has obviously found it's way to the Indian cuisine as well - anyone unfamiliar with Indian food will be at a loss when looking at menus. Luckily, the staff at a random restaurant apparently knew better what we wanted and brought us a selection of food of unknown origin. All of it was nothing short of delicious and even the two of our party that seem to know their way about Indian food, licked their fingers. That would be right hand fingers of course, the left hand is used by Indians at other parts of the body… Let’s just say it’s a good thing to keep toilet paper in stock here.

Anyway, our first encounter with local food was very positive, I hope my gastro-intestinal response will be just as accepting.

Today we’re in for another dose of chaos – Indian Railways, the most complicated and intricate railway system in the world. Not surprisingly, it’s also the largest single employer on the planet. I guess we should be able to book some tickets there.

Alright folks, take care, and make sure you keep a healthy measure of chaos.

comments

Just fixed a problem with posting comments, now everyone should be able to participate.

Alright, we're hitting the road!
:)

packing

Here we go, folks, I'm off to India on Monday! It's a joint venture this time ;) , we are 4 buddies going on a 4-week trip... Strictly speaking.

Where in India? Well, here's a map briefing for the curious ones, everything's in there, we've planned it all in detail:

Well, that's Indian railways for you, they haven't seemed to be able to make a straight line... :)

Anyway, I'll try and update this regularly, shouldn't be a problem in a country running second in the world by the number of PCs. But don't go panicking on me if I don't, I'm probably out somewhere relaxing after a groovy snake bite or something ... ;)

Oh, and there'll be no funky bilingual posting this time, just plain old US English, it covers almost everybody on my list plus I've got travellmates who will helpe me out whith speling, I'm sure. ;) It could get a bit formal though, Indian English is ridiculously 19th century. I'll try to learn some, should be fun!

Of course you are welcome to post comments in any language you wish; multilingual ones are preferred. :)

OK, keep shining everyone, I'll be in touch!