Goa Express

The Grim Reaper was riding the Delhi-bound Goa express this morning when it ran into the back of another stationery express in Mathura, near Delhi. At least 15 dead. It’s our favourite train, when north bound out of Goa.

Kefalonia

Petani Beach

After a break of three years we returned to Kefalonia for a week’s holiday. We had some misgivings about what might have happened in the intervening years, particularly regarding development. With the weak pound a lot of prices had more than doubled, we couldn’t get accomodation in Agia Efemia where we like to stay and yes some development was a bit ‘in your face’.

That said, generally property and tourism development have been well controlled and we had a completely relaxed week of not doing anything apart from beach hopping and re-visiting old haunts. The weather was kind, the accomodation, high on a hill overlooking dispiriting Lassi, was excellent. We got through three different hire cars in 48 hours, ate several times at (still) the best restaurant on the island, Stavros Dendrinos, where the menu has remained largely unchanged in eighteen years, picked up a healthy tan and agreed that we would be happy to return in future.

Well done to the Greek and Kefalonian authorities. They have spent loads of Euromoney, but unlike Gordon, they have put it to good use. Although traffic is generally light, there’s even a new highway across the north half of the island, which waits proper connections to the main road system. We guess that it has been built well in advance of increased tourism and a steadily increasing domestic population.

Tam and Ryan

Martin now has a new son-in-law. His daughter is now known as Mrs Tamaris Conradie and her marriage to Ryan took place in Newquay, Cornwall on 19th September.
Family and friends enjoyed the venue and the weather was more than kind so the ceremony was conducted outside overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. The Hotel Victoria did a professional organisational and catering job and the whole day went smoothly and any hiccups were quickly dealt with.
We are back home tonight and will return to regular blog duties as soon as possible.

A Gate too far for bodyguard

In Madurai we got around using cycle rickshaw. Our first rickshaw wallah had his own personal bodyguard in the shape of a characterful dog who accompanied us on our journey, seeming dashing between the wheels of the rickshaw and other vehicles, while he investigated as many smells as possible on the route. When we asked our wallah to take us from the West Gate to the East Gate the dog sat down. The rickshaw wallah said the dog would wait until he came back. No doubt a gate too far.

Water – no water

We chose our five day to the east coast of India because it shouldn’t be affected by monsoon and we’d get some sunshine. Our weather predictions were fully justified (unlike forecasters in the UK apparently) and we only had twenty minutes of rain until we were nearly back in Goas. One benefit of the monsoon on the outward trip was that Goa’s Dudhsagar (Milkfoam) Falls, second highest in India, were in full flood. Spectacular from the train, particularly as the railway crosses it within spitting distance.
On the other side of India we crossed several large rivers or, to be accurate, river beds. We understand that whereas the rivers used to run all year they dry up after the rains because the water is drained off upstream for irrigation purposes. It was remarkable to see the change in the landscape which went from semi-arid scrubland to green arable and semi-forested land a couple of kilometres either side of the desert riverbeds.

Scammed again

On each trip, we always manage to get scammed for a few rupees and each time it’s a different approach. This time it was by railway staff. Most trains have a small army of waiters who ferry tea and coffee, snacks and main meals up and down the twenty carriages from the pantry car. We’ve never had reason to mistrust them till this trip. It was getting on in the evening and the food service hadn’t shown for an hour or so. We were getting bit peckish and quite tired and I guess this must have shown up to the two food bearers who eventually came by with some good looking snacks. We selected eight items which were handed over. ‘How much ?’ we asked. That’s when we made two mistakes. First was to not register that the two then chatted amonst themselves; this is a sure fire sign that the asking price will be too high.We can imagine the conversation. ‘Great! Foreigners! Not too bright at the best of times and they look hungry and tired. Chance to sting’em. Suggest we double the price and see what happen!’ Second was to hand over the sum asked rather than do what our gut reaction told us to do, which was to hand back the food and send them packing.
We are in the process of learning Hindi which will help in situations like this… but then there are many different languages in India and people like the waiters will have their own language. Watch this space for more scams coming soon.

Tirusomethingorotheram

Known for donkey’s years as Trivandrum, as with many other cities, the name of Kerala’s capital city has been Indianised to Tiruvanathapuram (hope I’ve got it right). It takes a little practice to get your tongue round it. Fortunately the people we met can’t be bothered to learn the new name either so there was no room for misunderstanding as to where we were at.
Tiruwhatsit proved to be a massive disappointment. We were hoping for lots of traditional Keralan houses and a rather gentle and relaxed feel typical of the rest of the state – instead we found the usual Indian sprawl. We had difficulty finding any budget accommodation – no idea why, as there’s not that much to see in the city, it’s not the main tourist season anyway and in any case, if you were here for any length of time the seaside resort of Kovalam is only 10km away.
For reasons we couldn’t quite fathom, Martin couldn’t go out alone without being accosted by someone who had designs on his body. Yes, we know he looks smart in his Indian clothes but even so. Clearly we were staying in the wrong area!
The next day saw us completing our sojourn with another 20 hour train journey back up the coast to Margao; but only after a decent breakfast at The Coffee House in a curious round building with all tables on the spiral walkway.

Can someone tell me why we always end up in a compartment that gets overrun by rowdy young men who behave like over-excited six year olds? Disturbed sleep, yet again, but only 30 minutes late into Margao station, which meant our favourite breakfast place was open.

And so to the end of India

There’s nothing like a disagreement with a rickshaw-wallah to get you going in the morning. Our next stop was the very southern tip of India at Kanniyakumari. We decided against the train – largely on the grounds that it leaves at 2am in the morning – so we proceeded by bus from Madurai.
We explained that we wanted to go to the new central bus stand, for a bus to Kanniyakumari. Our rickshaw driver seemed to understand, but then proceeded to head in what we thought was completely the wrong direction. Our map said the new Central bus stand was South of the city and we were definitely heading North. This was an improvement in one way – in the past we wouldn’t have known which way we were heading. However all was revealed when it became apparent that there’s a new ‘New Central bus stand’, which isn’t central, but is now North of Madurai. Time we got a new Rough Guide.
And we arrived at the bus stand and got straight on an express bus. This proved to be a dubious advantage as it was our first exposure to buses with streaming video. Very noisy and after the first hour you conclude that all Tamil film music and dance sequences are identical except for the costume change. And we had six hours of this. Clearly something is lost in the cultural translation.
Anyway, Kanniyakumari was an unexpected delight. It’s where the Bay of Bengal, Arabian Ocean and Indian Ocean all meet. The different bodies of water can be identified by their different colours and directions of the waves. Very breezy, seasidey, and had our plans been different we might have stayed the night and visited the twin rocks which are a short ferry ride off shore and contain memorials to an Indian goddess and a saint.
As it was, we had planned to travel on to Trivandrum (now called Thiruvananthapuram for those who can pronounce it) – the capital of Kerala. Our original plan to go by bus was thankfully diverted by Martin’s conversation with a taxi driver with a white Ambassador car. We’re so glad we chose the taxi! The road was in a dreadful condition most of the way and the journey by bus would have been tortuous. As it was the taxi driver found us a terrific lunch stop and provided a much more comfortable ride. Even he got a bit tetchy with conditions.

Take me to the temple

Next stop, courtesy of another lengthy train ride, was perhaps India’s most impressive temple town. Madurai is one of the oldest cities in south Asia. Greek and Roman travellers wrote of its beauty and riches. Its wealth was garnered from its trade in silk, pearls and spices and provided money for the ruling Pandyan dynasty to build the Meenakshi-Sundareshwarar temple.
Nothing prepares you for this temple. We’d seen pictures of what we assumed was ‘the’ gopura (a pyramid shaped tower above the main shrine), only to find that the Meenakshi has 12 such towers. Apparently on any day of the week no less than 15,000 people pass through its gates. There’s a constant stream of ceremonies, festivals, and processions, which take place in the temple and spill out onto the surrounding streets. Many of the ceremonies haven’t changed since Egyptian times.
We went in before 9am – always a good idea in India to visit early. It’s cooler and not as crowded. Rather than just being bystanders we bought flower garlands to place on the main shrines. Non-Hindus cannot enter but we asked a priest to place them for us and he blessed us and bought us gifts in return – jasmine and rose garlands. It made the visit extra special and we felt so welcome and included.
It was very moving and exhausting as well, given the scale of the place. Even with a map you could easily get lost. However we were lucky in one respect – they repaint it every few years and the last time was 2008. If we’d come last year, it would have been covered in scaffolding, which would have somewhat spoiled the effect.

A corner of France, in India

We’ve been on our travels again, this time circumnavigating the south of India. A long first day and a half saw us cross the sub-continent from Goa to Chennai by train (more than 20 hours) then take on a four-hour bus journey to Pondicherry. This coastal town used to be the capital of French India and it remains decidedly schizophrenic. You arrive in a typical Indian town – rather dusty, litter strewn and like an untidy building site cum rubbish tip – but a fairly short rickshaw ride and you’re in another world.
Cross the central canal – the town is built on a grid system bisected by a stretch of water separating West and East – and suddenly you’re in a French seaside resort, complete with French road signs , policemen in Kepis, and broad, quiet, clean streets.
To get to our hotel we walked through a bar that looked as though it had been transported from a French provincial town. There isn’t much in the way of sights to see in Pondi, but it’s worth the trip just for the food. European standards of service, setting and cooking – all we might add from Indian waiters who spoke French, and an Indian chef – in a place called ‘Satsanga’. (Martin had an excellent steak tartare). And croissants and good coffee for breakfast looking out to sea. Heaven.