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Yeah, well this blog is a bit overdue. When I say overdue, I do of course mean 8 months.
I think it's fair to say quite a lot has happened in the last 8 months of our world tour, mainly unpacking and repacking our rucksack and sleeping in scores of hotels and hostels around Asia.
It has been a real eye-opener so far, especially Asia, and it's unrelenting ability to shock and also amaze you at the same time. It's an attack on the senses to say the least. From the smells of fried Tofu through the Hutong's of Beijing, to the overwhelmingly powerful, nostril stinging notes of Delhi, these smells will stay with us for a long time.
Let's start with India. I heard before we went that India stands for, "I'll Never Do It Again", but we arrived into Mumbai from Dubai, with open-minds, albeit mixed with slight apprehension. We were right to feel the latter. Firstly after arriving in the airport we got ripped off by a Bureau de Change, charging us a ridiculous commission. I can see why you can't get Rupees in the UK! Once we realised we had been ripped off, we went to catch a taxi to our first hotel of our Asian leg of travelling. This was an experience in itself as we firstly drove around for 3 minutes with our rucksacks loosely strapped to the roof of the cab, before the driver stopped to ask for directions, so we jumped out and brought the bags into the relatively safe interior. We managed to arrive at the hotel safe and sound after negotiating a city which seemed to be in a constant state of rush hour!
The main things I remember about this hotel in Mumbai were the thickness of the matress, which can only be compared to tracing paper, and the fact that the only way to flush the toilet was to reach inside the cistern and pull the flush. Gross to be honest.
We had a total of 4 days in Mumbai, and on the whole it was a great city. The divide between the rich and the poor was huge though, and could be clearly identified. One part of the city housing the most expensive real estate in India, the another part of the city which crams up to 18,000 souls into one acre. We decided to book ourselves onto a slum tour to the infamous Dharavi slum, which up until 2010 was not only Asia's largest slum, but the largest in the world. It has since been overtaken in size by three other slums, all located in Mumbai. This slum was also where Slumdog Millionaire was flimed.
To get this slum invloved another experience unique to India. The suburban railway network. Those images you may have seen on the internet and on TV where people are hanging from trains or sitting on the roof of the 13:14 service to Churchgate are all true. Out of the 15,000 train related deaths in India every year, 6,000 of these deaths occur on the Mumbai network alone! Once the train arrived at the station, you have approximately 2.3 seconds to jump onto the train before it departs again. Dont worry about "minding the doors", as there aren't any...
After arriving at the slum we were followed by a group of screaming and over-excited Indian children, all of whom were dressed in nothing but rags. I felt sorry for these children, but once we entered the slum my emotion changed from one of sorrow to one of respect. The slum was for sure crowded, unbearably hot and had some of the worst sanitation I have seen, but the people who lived there were a community. Working, living, eating, cooking, washing and sleeping are all conducted from the very heart of the slum. These people never leave because everything they need is right there. It was a fantastic place to visit, we left the slum on a highnote and our preception changed.
The rest of our time in Mumbai was spent visiting other destinations such as, the infamous Churchgate Station, which would look more at home in London, Ghandi's house and other sights such as the Gateway of India, Chowpatty Beach and the Taj Palace Hotel, which we did take refuge in, if only for the air conditioning.
I think the only main negative point from Mumbai, was when a street child followed us around for about 15 minutes, begging us to buy her milk. When we refused, Natalie took the brunt of the young girls anger by way of a punch to the stomach. This shook us both up a little to be honest. The slums and this incident will remain with us for some time.
After Mumbai, next on the list was a flight to New Delhi, India's capital city and one that would require a stronger stomach. Before we made it to Mumbai airport though, our cab driver decided to get angry with us because we wouldn't stop in any shops along the way. Sorry pal, but at 5am in the morning in a completely empty and strange city, we're not stopping anywhere!
Arriving in Delhi was a bit like arriving in Mumbai, a smack-around-the-face barage of smells and sights! Word of warning, don't organise a guy from your hotel to pick you up from the airport. The only main reason is because they won't turn up, and leave you standing at the Arrivals hall looking helpless and having every other Indian taxi driver approaching you asking, "Where to my friend?". After finally accepting a very pushy taxi drivers offer, we hopped into the cab only to realise the driver (a bit like the one in Mumbai) didn't know where he was going. Obviously "doing the knowledge" isn't deemed necessary in India. So, after a count of three, and while the taxi was stationary, we jumped out and found another driver who actualy the new the general direction of the city.
After arriving at the hotel, we were told by the hotel staff, that "the boy was waiting for us at the airport you must pay". Well, he wasn't so we're not. We checked into our room, which, if I'm honest was miles better than the one we stayed at in Mumbai. It didn't have a window though, which didn't really bother us until the first powercut of many, which left us rummaging around for our head torches to relight the room.
Delhi is a fascinating city, even more crowded than Mumbai, even hotter, but also even better at ripping tourists off, or at least trying to. After numerous men approaching us near Connaught Place, trying to get us to go to the "tourist office", we found our way to what we thought was the real tourist office. Inevitability this was another cowboy opeartion designed purely to scam tourists. We did ultimately find the right and legitimate tourist office, but the trip around Rajasthan seemed a bit too expensive, plus we didn't want to sit in a car and be suck with the same driver for two weeks. So we decided to do it all oursleves and had to trudge to New Delhi Railway Station to book our two week tour of Rajasthan.
Surpise, suprise though when we arrived at the station, a man attempted to take us to the incorrect office, but we already knew where the actually office was. (Aha!) Once in the safe haven of familiar Western faces, and a friendly guy behind a desk, we had all of our three trains booked and sorted at a total cost of 1,700 Rupees, which is around 20 quid.
Before we left the chaos of Delhi, we had a tour of Old Delhi by a sweaty man on a cycle-rickshaw, which again opened our eyes to what India was actually like. Also a visit to relatively nearby Agra, home of the mighty Taj Mahal, was next on the to-do list.
This meant an 8 hour round-trip from the heart of Delhi to the Taj, by a driver who drove a knackered old car, who's only saving grace was the air con, which worked like a dream. On arrival in Agra, our driver pulled over to let another man in, who decided he was going to be our guide. After politely saying to him we didn't want a guided tour of the Taj, (and after we used him to take our photo) we went around at our own pace and took in the beauty of the structure, before deciding that it really wasn't that impressive after all. I know this might sound crazy and "oh my God you're at the Taj Mahal, what are saying?!", but it really wasn't impressive. Yes we have seen it, and yes it is a Wonder of the World, but it still doesn't hide the facts. Agra itself, where the Taj is located is a place we are very happy we didn't stay in. Every rupee that is spent in Agra, seems have been poured into the upkeep of the Taj, and really not spent on anything else. We made it back to Delhi in one piece, ready for our over-night sleep train(!) to the blue-city of Jodphur and home to the impressive Mehrangarh Fort.
Nothing really much to report on the sleeper train. As soon as the train left Delhi, we got some shut-eye in the relatively private surroundings of curtained cabin that was our accommodation for the night. We didn't need to set an alarm though for being awoken by a man shouting, "Chai Chai Chai!", was enough.
Like arriving at many Indian railway stations, bleary-eyed and tired, Jodphur was no different. We found the nearest auto-rickshaw driver who looked the least likely to rip us off, and headed to our hotel. We had a few days exploring Jodphur, the highlights being the previously mentioned Fort, which sits dominantly on top of a huge hill, the shop which sold omelettes on toast and the superb views over the Blue city, so called because nearly every building is painted blue! Another memory of Jodphur was the extremely heavy rain shower that lasted for ages. With a pretty much unuseable sewage system, it doesn't take long for raw matter to be flowing through the streets and over your sandals. Gross.
After walking to the train station at 5am, through deserted streets, it was time to head to the next place, Jaipur, the Pink City. This was only a short 5 hour journey, but still had some surprises. The most memorable was the adorable child, who was so intrigued with us, she decided to climb all over us and give us hugs. This was after a boy, of about 7 or 8 years of age, boarded the train, covered in burns and scars and started to sweep the floor of the carriage hoping for a few rupees to be thrown his way. Terrible to think that these children are purposefully injued in order to gain more money for their work.
Jaipur had the best hotel we statyed in, purely for the fact that the room was clean, well oraganised and had BBC Knowledge available on the TV. Oh, and the fact that the toilet flush worked. The view was less impressive, with most of the view taken up by wasteland, a few dodgy looking auto-rickshaw drivers and no less than six men weeing at any one time...in the same spot.
Jaipur was where I spent my birthday. We celebrated by going out for an Italian (I know, we should of had a Tikka Masala, right?), and having a few beers to wash it down with. During the day we visited a few Forts, and at the main one we rode to the top of the hill where the fort was situated, on the back of an elephant. This was a great experience, and it was strange to be so close to such a hugh and powerful animal.
From Jaipur, we had a day trip to the nearby town of Pushkar, which was home to a Holy Lake, and to be honest was the only main attraction of the town. Pushkar seemed to be the place that most tourists were at, with lots of restaurants and souvenir shops. On the way back from Pushkar, whilst passing through a very small village, some guy decided it would be funny to step in front of our car whilst weilding a crossbow. After a few choice words between the armed man and our driver, we were allowed to carry on back to Jaipur. This was a very scary moment, and we never fully understood why the man did what he did. Strange.
Another "experience" in Jaipur was going to see a Bollywood film at the cinema near our hotel. I naively thought Natalie and I would be able to watch the film unnoticed by the huge, all-male Indian crowd that had decided to come and watch India's answer to Jason Bourne. This wasn't the case. We were almost the main attraction in the cinema, particularly before the film started. Once the film has begun, all hell broke loose! Everytime the on-screen hero punched or shot a bad guy, the whole cinema erupted in cheers and guys swinging their shirts around their heads. Crazy scenes indeed!
Once our time in Jaipur was complete, all that was left of India was a pleasant train journey back up to Delhi and a few days revisiting sights we had previously seen there and also visiting the Red Fort, one of Delhi's main attractions.
Believe me there is so much more I could write about India, but if it has taken me 8 months to write this, then I wouldn't hold your breath.
It truly was an eye-opening experience, one we will never forget.
So is the saying that you will never do India again true? For us, I think it is.
India. DONE.
Tom & Natalie
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