Thursday, 16 August 2007
land of a thousand flavours
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.
Sunday, 5 August 2007
take me to the river
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.
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.
Saturday, 4 August 2007
Team India

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.
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!
