Pondicherry

I spent the first few days of my stay in Pondicherry exploring the town and continuing to acclimatize to the heat. Pondicherry (known by locals as Pondy) has quintessentially French roots and this is extremely apparent in certain parts of the town, with pleasant cobblestone streets and yellow buildings. The majority of the town however remains very much Indian, although it is far less full on than what I experienced in Bombay and Bangalore. Pondy is in the Indian region of Tamil Nadu which is somewhat renowned for abuse of the horn on the roads, and I was at times very frustrated by this. On the bright side though, unlike Bombay where I could hardly make it 5 minutes without being hounded by someone looking for a payout, Pondicherry was relatively hassle free. There were still a few beggars around, but they are not persistent and don't really pressure you if you decline to give them anything. The only little pests that didn't drop off at a polite refusal were young street urchins selling small hand made cloth bags and pouches. On one occasion a particularly tenacious lad followed me for nearly a mile before I was able to lose him in a restaurant; I'll admit that I was tempted to pull out my MP3, put on something by the Prodigy, throw over a street stall and make a proper getaway of it, but I fortunately managed to control that particular impulse.

As Pondy is a seaside town, I was extremely eager to check out the beach and cool off in the ocean, and so was initially disappointed that Pondy itself does not have a stretch of beach but rather a mile and a half long promenade separated from the sea by a wall of large and fairly jagged rocks. After having spent a while in the town though, I came to really appreciate the promenade. Although it does suck not being able to dip in the sea any time you want, it really is an incredibly pleasant stroll to take. The sea breeze is heavenly in the heat and at sunset it's especially beautiful. On many occasions after a meal in the evening I got myself a fruit juice from a conveniently located stall (the grape juice in particular is wonderful) and found myself a comfortable rock from which to spend a peaceful few moments gazing out at the ocean.

Although I couldn't go swimming in the sea at Pondicherry, the ocean was calling me so I quickly established that there were a few decent beaches to be found within 8km north of Pondy. I rented myself a dying bicycle for a few rupees and headed north along the coastal road, raced a few of the slower mopeds and was nearly blasted off the road by the absurdly loud bus horns before I was able to eventually find myself a stretch of almost completely deserted beach where I was could finally have an incredibly refreshing dip. The water is pretty much the perfect temperature for my purpose; cool enough that you feel magnificently rejuvenated but warm enough that you can stay in for as long as you like without getting cold. I was surprised to learn that very few Indians know how to swim, so there were very few people going in (probably a wise decision considering that the currents are noticeably strong in the Bay of Bengal) and I had the beach largely to myself.

I have to say that I would not like to be a woman on a beach in India; when I went to a much busier beach where there were a few western women in bikinis, there were scores of Indian men just standing there shamelessly gawping. Nice 'n sleazy. They aren't entirely to blame though I suppose; as a result of the culture out here wherein most women are not supposed to show more than the bare minimum of skin, the poor guys are no doubt absurdly sex deprived. Then again, I suppose it isn't just the ladies that are victim to that kind of attention; at one point I was even offered 'public sex' by two gay Indian men who had been watching me sunbathing. Aand moving on..

One of the highlights of my stay was a whole day motorbike tour with a local Indian guy named Anamalai who is something like a state prosecutor. Claudine introduced me to him as we were invited to dinner with his family, and we spent a pleasant evening discussing politics (it was just before the immensely disappointing UK general election) in both of our countries, as well as local affairs and a common agreement that Daniel Craig just doesn't feel like James Bond. And where the hell is Q? His (and his mother's) hospitality was exemplary to the point that they got incredibly agitated when Claudine attempted to get up and take her plate to the kitchen. She at times had been a little pushy about 'fattening me up' so I was most amused to see her get a taste of her own medicine as they refused to hear her protests about not being hungry. The food was great too. A few days later, Anamalai invited me out on his bike for the day.

We saw a lot of places so I won't go into all of them, but of particular note was a backwater boat ride at Chunambar to the south of Pondy. I felt rather sorry for Ana as the poor guy was pretty nervous about the safety of the boat (like most Indians, he couldn't swim) but I think he nonetheless enjoyed it too, and he seemed to relax when I assured him that if he ended up in the water I would gallantly rescue him. The lush scenery surrounding the water was picturesque with beautifully white beaches at the meet with the sea and shady palm trees dotted around. One of the best things about it was that as it was well away from any roads, it was blissfully free of the normal Tamil Nadu soundtrack of engines and horns, with the only sounds being that of nature. There were also local fishermen standing knee deep in the water chatting while making their catches and wildlife all around. The overall effect was a remarkable feeling of peace and serenity, and the place will certainly linger in my memory.

In addition to Chunambar we saw a few temples, several lakes and plenty of the surrounding region, as well as a finale at a small nature park with a small number of animals and snakes, the highlight of which was a dozen or so beautifully vain peacocks. Lunch was a parcel takeaway of a huge number of spicy dishes which were eaten in front of one of the picturesque lakes we visited, and it was lovely to eat which watching the surface of the water teeming with life. Aside from my excursion with Ana I had done a fair amount of looking around myself and saw a good number of temples and churches in Pondy. Although I'm not really a temple person usually, some were very beautiful and it was fun getting blessed (tapped on the head with her trunk) by Lakshmi, the adorable temple elephant, in return for a coin at one of the larger temples.

In general my time spent at Pondy was very relaxed and laid back; I mostly just lapped up the sun, the sea and most of all the culture, which as I said is unlike anything I've seen anywhere else and is something you have to see to understand. During my stay I also created a rough plan of my future route through India, which would take me to a number of locations as I traveled north in a zigzag path, stopping at Agra to see the Taj Mahal and then making my way west to the sands of Rajasthan to finish my journey. I familiarized myself with the initially daunting Indian Rail booking system and eventually managed to book myself four trains which would take me most of the way to the north of India. As I said, the booking system at first seems overly complicated and can be a pain, but once you know what you're doing it's actually a pretty effective system.

I also got to ride a few local buses around which was an experience that I think is probably the closest you can get to an orgy without taking off your clothes. All the buses were filled to bursting and I had to fight my way both on and off. The biggest challenge I had was in knowing when to get off as when standing in the middle of the bus, you cannot see out to know where you are so have to just guess when to disembark. All in all though it was a fun experience and the buses were also very cheap. On one bus they were playing some Hindi music and I very nearly just shouted 'MOSH' and went for it. The locals probably wouldn't have seen the funny side of that one..

Although most of my time was spent in and around Pondy, I did also make a few excursions. I spent one day in the nearby town of Auroville, a social experiment wherein some 45 different nations united to form a new kind of town. The town itself is very nice and feels much more peaceful than Pondicherry. Although the majority of the town's inhabitants are Indian, there are people from many other countries around the world, with a large number of volunteers. After meeting one of the 'leaders' of the town I was invited to come to Auroville as a volunteer and even showed a pleasant hut where I could stay for a small fee. Although I had intended to go along for a few days I never did get round to it, but I did learn a bit more about the town from various sources. I got the impression more and more from what I heard that although the town seemed very laid back, there was a good deal of tension bubbling beneath the surface. Still, it was a nice place and somewhere well worth the visit.

The other major trip I made was a two day visit to the town of Mamallapuram some two hours north of Pondicherry by bus, a journey I undertook along with a Spanish woman named Maria living above me who I'd met through Claudine. We checked into a very nice hotel that, although slightly more expensive than what I would have normally have gone for, was very pleasant and had a fantastic swimming pool which I spent most of the day in and out of. The sea was also close by and was again lovely albeit with strong rips and very strange wave patterns. The settlement was home to a host of beautiful temples as well as some caves and huge boulders. I didn't get a chance to see absolutely everything but had a good look around. The heat was oppressive and the water beautiful but my walk around revealed some impressive sights so I was glad I made the effort. Once again one of the nicest things about the small town was that it was far quieter than Pondicherry and brought home just how much noise there was back in Pondy.

In total I spent just over a month in and around Pondicherry, slightly longer than I had intended, but my lifestyle was simply so relaxed and cushy that it was hard to gear myself up to move on. Claudine had been wonderful in putting me up for so long, so I was incredibly grateful to her for all of her kindness. With everything booked and ready, I got a sleeper bus overnight to Bangalore on the 8th June. There was a bit of a ruckus right as I was about to leave as there was some kind of accident involving the bus I would have been taking so I had to wait an extra hour before taking a bus from a different company. However after getting through the initial fuss it proved to be to my advantage as the new bus was somewhat more comfortable than the one I had booked and was even some Rs20 cheaper. I finally got on board, waved Claudine, Maria and Pondicherry farewell and settled in for the eight hour trip back west to Bangalore.

Travel, Bangalore and the Monsoon

The bus journey from Bombay to Bangalore was not as bad as I had expected, so by the time we finally arrived the following afternoon in Bangalore I was feeling fairly fresh and ready to arrange the final leg of my first trip across the country. Once we were out of Bombay I was treated to a few recent Bollywood films, two out of three of which had English subtitles; so I was able to enjoy them thoroughly. I had never really watched any Bollywood films in the past so it was interesting to see how they are structured; the actors are liable to break into song at regular intervals, and although I don't really care for musicals, the songs were generally quite good. I was amused to see that in all of the films (all of which had a central love theme as part of the plot) they made no differentiation between love and lust. In fact when the main hero and heroines saw each other for the first time, it wasn't long in any of the films before one or both of them burst into song about how they were suddenly in love. The marriage culture is very strong here in India so I suppose these films are just another form of propoganda encouraging people to comform.

The bus stopped at a small service station at around 21:00 so I was able to get some noodles and chai before we were back on the bus with another movie loaded. The chap I was sitting next to spoke only very fractured English but we were able to have some limited conversation, so the journey was kept fairly interesting. A little before midnight there was a colossal lightning storm with torrential rain which lasted until the early hours. After another short stop at a larger service station in the morning where I had the dubious experience of using my first Indian toilet (after which I will now be strictly following the practice of using only my right hand) and enjoying a few breakfast items which I again have no idea as to the ingredients or name of, we once again got comfortable for the last stretch to Bangalore.

When I arrived in Bangalore the first thing that hit me was the smell, a gag inducing combination of urine, vomit and dead rat. Yeah it was pretty nasty stuff. After I had got my bearings and something to eat it was already getting on towards 15:00 so I hastily took an autorickshaw to the main bus stand (known for some reason as 'Majestic') where after some investigating I learned there was an overnight bus scheduled to leave at 19:00 for Pondicherry. After waiting in line for a good 30 minutes I booked my seat and had a sit down in the shade to decide what to do in the time until I left. Seeing as it was already getting on and the main attractions were close to closing, I decided instead to have a wander round and try to find myself an internet cafe to wile away a few hours. Unlike in Bombay I was not confronted by a single tout, scammer or beggar, which went a long way towards making up for the smell. Although Bangalore is India's technological capital; known in fact as India's silicon valley; it actually took me a surprisingly long time to find myself a cyber cafe, and when I finally did it was a grubby back alley place with excruciatingly slow connections. No doubt I was just in the wrong part of the city.

Nonetheless after spending a few hours browsing the net and simultaneously charging up my MP3 player for the looming eight hour trip to Pondicherry, I sampled some of the delicious street food to fill my apetite and then set about finding my way to the specific bus station from which I would be departing. Just as I was making my way towards a few autorickshaws, the monsoon through which I had passed on my way here finally caught up with me and the heavens were well and truly opened. Now, as an Englishman I can claim somewhat reasonably to be accustomed to rain, but even I raised an eyebrow and the volume of rain that came down. I quickly found myself a richshaw (after turning down two and having a hard bartering session with the third) who drove me the 30 minutes through the flooding streets to the bus station, where after another 40 minute wait I boarded the bus.

During the few hours I had spent on the internet I had emailed Claudine, my friend in Pondy, the details of my arrival time as something somewhere around 03:00 and she had very kindly agreed to wait up for me. I was therefore incredibly frustrated when due to people arriving late the damn bus didn't leave until nearly two hours after it's scheduled departure time. I suppose it's nice that they didn't want to leave anyone behind but when someone was waiting up into the small hours for me I really wished they would get a bloody move on. Anyway we finally got going, and although it was much shorter, this leg of the trip was a lot less pleasant than the first on account of the fact that my seat unfortunately turned out to be right over the rear wheels, and with the nonexistant suspension of the vintage bus and the often poor road quality; I was constantly being thrown into the air making sleep almost impossible. Still, due to the rain it was at least relatively cool.

We finally arrived at 06:00 just as it was starting to get light. I quickly got an autorickshaw to the address I'd been given and, drenched (as it had been raining continually throughout the night as well as when I arrived) I finally arrived at my destination. Claudine, bless her, was waiting for me when I got out of the richshaw and quickly showed me in and after a brief chat I was able to crash out on a bed and get some much needed sleep.

Bombay

Because my sleeping pattern had been so messed up, I was up fairly early and after another beautiful shower and some reorganizing of my backpack, I headed outside into the abusive heat with a lot to do. Particularly because the heat and humidity was so much worse than I had anticipated, and also because Bombay is much more expensive than most of the rest of India; I was keen to leave quickly on my way to Pondicherry on the south-west coast, where I had a friend and free accomodation waiting. I figured this would be the best way to start as acclimitizing would be far more comfortable if I had a relaxing base. My plan was to get an overnight sleeper train accross the country to Madras (a 23-29 hour trip depending on train) and then get a two hour bus south to Pondy. I had attempted to reserve myself a seat a few days before leaving England but the trains had been largely booked up, the best I could find was to be put on the waiting list for a train leaving in the evening; 10 people needed to cancel their tickets in order for me to get one but I had heard this was not entirely unlikley so remained hopeful about my chances.

The first thing for me to do therefore was to find an internet cafe from where to check my emails to see if I was down for a ticket. It was harder than I expected to find a place, but after having a nice walk around and seeing off numerous local touts prowling for tourist rupees I was finally able to establish that I had still not made it past the waiting list and was thus somewhat screwed. I was a little overwhelmed by the size, heat and bustle of the city so figured the best thing I could do was to make my way down to the central train station and see what I could arrange, as trying to sort out tickets on the internet was proving something of a nightmare. I got myself a taxi to the station and ended up going to one of the many travel companies littered around the place. Unfortunately all trains other than first class (too expensive) and general second class seater (too crowded for a long trip) were fully booked, so in the end I opted for an A/C semi-sleeper bus to Bangalore, slightly further away than Pondicherry than Madras but nonetheless within a bus journey. The bus left at around 1800 so I had the whole day to have a look around Bombay.

Rather than attempt to navigate my way around the megopolis in my still rather dazed state, I eventually found a decent tour with a friendly Sikh taxi driver who spoke good English and had a seriously impressive beard. I hadn't planned on a tour but figured it would be a shame to leave Bombay without having a good look around. The tour lasted around 5 hours and was every bit as dizzying as my taxi ride had been the day before. Once again, I saw far more than I can give an account of, but some of the highlights were a particularly impressive Jain temple, the Hanging Gardens and the famous Gates of India. Watching incredibly poor Indian men and women wash hundreds of clothes in huge tubs of soapy water; no doubt agonizingly hard work in the unbearable heat, is something that really makes you reevaluate your perspectives. The poverty I saw on the first day was again very apparant; as was the contrast between the rich and poor here, and my taxi driver explained with a clear ring of rage and resentment just how well some of the richer Indians live.

The temples were all beautifully lavish and artistic, and although I am certainly not religous I did enjoy the ambience in most of the places I visited; they had a very relaxed air and were inexplicably cool for lack of any A/C or fans. Perhaps the cooler temperature in the temples is the reason for the popularity of religion in India, heh. My tour included the expected visit to a not so toury spot; in my case an Indian tailors (many tour guides have arrangements with shops wherein they get a commission if any toursists make purchases) where I was dutifully shown around before assuring the man that although I wasn't making any purchases, I would come back at a later date if I had the chance. Of course, I may not get the chance; things to do and all that.

As I said I had a huge number of scam and extortion attempts thrown at me in the course of the day as my tour guide left me to look around by myself and thus making me presumably look like easy pickings. At the Gates of India in particular I was subject to some highly amusing attempts. I refrained from giving money out in general but there was one case where I did give the kid something just for making me laugh. While wandering around the Gates a smiling Indian boy approached me and after asking where I was from etc. told me a a good deal about the history of the Gates of India. As it was actually pretty detailed, after he had finished I started getting out ten rupees to give him. However the boy shook his head and insisted that he was a friend and didn't want money. He then suggested that if I wanted to help I could buy some baby milk for his young sister. Thinking this seemed reasonable I went with him to a conveniently located little stall nearby which sold the stuff. Heh, Rs200 for a small tin of it. To be fair to the kid and his accomplice at the stall, they both smiled good naturedly when I burst out laughing at the price. In the end I gave the kid Rs20 for the show.

I hadn't eaten the previous night so was eager for my first taste of Indian food, and I was not disappointed. Although I have no idea what exactly it was I was eating, the assortment of various foods which a small place at the Hanging Gardens prepared for me were incredibly rich in flavour; by comparison most British food seems rather bland. Apart from you know.. bacon. By the time my tour was done I had just under an hour to kill before my bus left, so after having a bit more of a wander round and having a man try to take me for Rs20 for using the public toilets (not that I need have bothered; most men here seem to feel they have the God given right to urinate on any wall they like regardless of the proximity of other people); I finally fought my way past the hordes of touts and scammers nested by the bus stand and embarked my bus. All in all it was a successful first day, the only slight damper was that I discovered to my chagrin that I had been ripped off by the travel agency for Rs300 more than the price of the ticket should have been. Still, for my first day and considering I was operating at well below 100% due to the heat; it could have been far worse and the loss of just under five pounds will serve as a very good lesson for the future and I will certainly be much more careful in the future.

Having successfully arranged transport out of Bombay and having done a good day's sightseeing, I got to see more of the outskirts of the city as the bus took several hours to leave the last remnants of Bombay behind. Fortunately I was able to get the window seat, so I settled in and got comfortable for a long 20 hour trip.

Commencement

It had been many years in coming, but when I finally stepped out of the front door with only my rucksack and the knowledge that I wouldn't be home for at least three months, it was all something of a blur. Saying goodbye to my family was equally strange, and the mother's tears didn't make things any easier. Not that I hadn't expected it mind you. The journey to Heathrow was reassuringly smooth, and it wasn't long before I was checking in my bag, bidding my father adieu and taking the first few solo steps on my journey.

I only had a few short hours to wait at the airport and it wasn't long before I was boarding the Oman Air plane that would be taking me some 3700 miles to Muscat, Oman. The plane was fairly comfortable and had a few decent movies showing including Avatar, which I had been meaning to see for some time; it was all in all a good start.

I was surprised to find that the first really impressive sight of my trip actually came before leaving British airspace; it was a cloudless night and with the full moon, London was breathtaking from above. As ugly as motorways are when you're driving on them, from the sky they were sensationally lit up; it really looked like there were rivers of light flowing around the city. Impressive stuff. The flight was fine although I wasn't able to get much sleep, but rather watched Avatar and spent a few hours chatting with a Indian born chap from Leeds on his way to Goa. There were some really nice views of Oman; the landscape was barren with huge rolling brown hills dotted around, and Muscat was also eye opening. We landed at around 10:00 local time and even the few minutes in transit between the plane and terminal were enough to impress upon me just how hot India was going to be. Sweltering.

Fortunately I only had to wait for a couple of hours in Muscat before getting back on the plane for the final few hours to Bombay India. Unfortunately I did not have a window seat so I wasn't able to see much of the city as I landed, but I was given an early taste of what was in store for me during the in-flight meal. Lurking inside my curry was an extremely hot chilli which was sufficient to blow my head off but fortunately not enough to make me ill. By the time the plane touched down in Bombay at around 15:00 local time I was having to fight not to fall asleep, and so planned to find myself a hotel quickly and snatch some sleep. After clearing customs and getting some money exchanged I ordered my pre-paid taxi to Collaba, a part of Bombay where the guide book told me I would find a number of decent budget hotels. Well, the first thought upon stepping out of the air conditioned airport was something along the lines of 'bloody hell it's hot'. I had expected it to be far too hot, but I was nonetheless taken somewhat unawares by just how brutal it was. The humidity too was painfully high so I was sweating within a few steps.

I managed to find my taxi (after some 'helpful' Indians had kindly pointed it out to me and placed my bag inside before demanding Rs100 for their services, and getting 10). The taxi was a very basic affair, and it soon became clear to me why it didn't have wing mirrors. Traffic in Bombay was the most insane thing I have ever seen, with cars threading and weaving in between each other with barely inches to spare. The horn is king, and hugely overused. That taxi ride was something I will never really forget, taking something like two hours to reach it's destination. I could never come close to describing everything I saw on that journey but it was absolutely incredible. In the north of Bombay the level of poverty was humbling; hundreds of tiny shacks sprawling right up to the roadside, people sleeping on the pavement and beggers everywhere. When the taxi stopped in one of the numerous jams, a girl of no more than 7 approached me asking for rupees; and all over there were people approaching cars hawking wares from electronics to books and water.

As I said the traffic was insanity, at one point there was a four way junction without traffic lights where there were literally cars driving directly towards each other, with 3-4 lanes of cars driving in each direction; with the cars slowly trickling through. I was amazed that there hadn't been a major pile up, but I suspect that low speed collisions are common; most cars I saw had numerous small bumps and scratches along the bodywork. Despite the pleasant breeze coming in through the open windows, I was drenched in sweat by the time we finally arrived at my destination; a small hotel where I was able to get a cheap room for the night, which was basic but clean. After having undoubtedly the best (cold) shower of my life, I turned the fan on full, threw in my earplugs to drown out the constant beeping of various car horns, and finally got some sleep, some four and a half thousand miles from home and ready to start what I hoped would be at least a memorable three months.