TravelStream™ news feed for member easties on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/easties en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Fri, 27 Mar 2009 17:14:54 -0400 http://www.travelpod.com http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1236449700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1236449700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1236449700/tpod.html Fri, 27 Mar 2009 17:14:54 -0400 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Mysore, Karnataka, India

The Mudumalai National Park was closed because of fire risk and because they were carrying out the annual tiger census. That might have deterred lesser wanderers, but not Gill. Surely we could stay at the edge of the park and see what we could see. A very grateful hotelier fully agreed and promptly made ready his highest room come watch tower ready for our arrival. The place was wonderful and wild and I have no hesitation in recommending any reader to visit the Forest Hills Lodge in Bokkapuram.

What do I mean by wild? Well the first thing the owner did was to swap mobile phone numbers so we could call out the staff if the wild elephants started rocking our watch tower during the night. He then explained that we should never walk in the dark un-accompanied from our room to the dining area. This meant that after our very pleasant evening meal, we had to wait for at least two of the kitchen staff to finish the washing up find their torches and escort us back to bed. I noticed that they were none too relaxed doing this, checking each shadow with their torches and certainly not prepared to carry out this escort duty alone.

Above our room was a lookout platform. Now, to date I had unnecessarily carried a 1.5 Kilo mosquito net all holiday and we had found in the restaurant another English couple who enjoyed Kingfisher Strong, so I merrily agreed to Gill's suggestion of sleeping out on the lookout platform. The escorts at first banned the idea, but they caught the mad British glint in our eyes and shook their heads as they climbed down the ladder leaving us to it.

We did not sleep a wink. Having stuffed a torch and a locking knife under my pillow, I for one could not get the thought of how useless our mosquito net would be when a leopard came up the stairs to investigate. Gill thought every noise was an elephant and kept switching on her torch which bounced nicely back off the white netting and blinded us both. Suffice it to say our second night was spent tucked up in the room below where the only danger was having the whole thing upended by the same elephants that two days earlier had torn up the pipe work of the near by well intentioned watering hole that the hotel had built to attract the elephants for the tourists.

So with bleary eyes we caught the seriously bumpy bus to Mysore. They had a brilliant idea to deal with the bumps; they attached upside down seats to the ceiling of the bus to act not only as parcel racks but also to cushion the blow when your head hits the ceiling. Mysore is home to the Maharajah that allowed us to sleep in his summer retreat in Ooty. And some home it is. His palace is every bit as grand as Buck Pal which is perhaps not so surprising as it was built for him by the British after the old palace had caught fire and burned to the ground. Mysore did very well under the British and so did this dynasty, being worth the equivalent of a billion USD when the current "Maharajah's" father took over.

He seems to have been a popular monarch in that when Gandhi's republic took away his throne in 1950, his subjects duly elected him as their Governor. His son has not lost the common touch because he allows his palace to be lit up like a Christmas tree every weekend and thousands of locals take the opportunity to stroll the grounds and with their kids and live like kings for a while. It has to be a short while because the electricity supply to the rest of the town struggles to cope with the 100,000 light bulbs that it takes to decorate the place.

From Mysore we took our last train journey, to Bangalore. We had become well versed in and full of respect for the ways of India Rail and felt quite sad as we were, as usual, the last to leave the train. For some reason the Indians have to be first onto and first off any form of transport. In fact as the plane prepared to take off on our hop from Bangalore to Mumbai the cabin crew announced that the emergency doors should only be used in an emergency. What a classic; then Gill realised that it was quite possible that in their keenness to be first off the plane, somebody had had the brainwave of using emergency door!

Then we were back in Mumbai. We had not done it justice with just one night all those weeks ago.

We wanted to finish with a swanky hotel and we found a nice hotel adjacent to the palace section of the Taj which was still shut for repairs after 26/11. The hotel was fine but here were the beggars. We had not really had problems with begging during the rest of the holiday. Every time we left the hotel we were beseiged. What a pity. We had long ago learned never to give to beggars. It is sometimes difficult, but if we ever did give anything, the scrummage that it creates makes it clear that giving causes more inequality than not giving.

We enjoyed Mumbai. The splendid colonial buildings had been kept intact and were in daily use as law courts or as university buildings for example.

Chowpatty beach reminded me of Copacabana beach in Rio, full of locals and of full of life.

Five weeks of curries, sometimes three a day, did not stop us taking the curry option on our Virgin flight home. We didn't want the holiday to end !




]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234684860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234684860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234684860/tpod.html Mon, 09 Mar 2009 05:07:10 -0400 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kochi, Kerala, India

After learning the ropes on our first train journey the next trip on the overnight Netravati Express to Kotchi, or its other name Cochin, was a breeze. Actually there was a breeze in our compartment - we were sharing with the Netravati Snorer - he snored for the whole train; thank God for IPod. Although she won't admit it, I know Gill now realises how well off she is with my lighter than light purring that she seems to regard as grounds for divorce.

Some 15 hours after kick off we arrived at a civilised 2pm. In the grand scale of things this is a normal sized journey in India where the longest train ride is a mind boggling 66 hours. Now there was a choice; pay x for a taxi to Fort Cochin or x/100 and catch the local ferry. We are good travelers so we chose the interesting route and learned a new little quirk of this country. The ferry ticket kiosk was closed and there were a couple of young lads standing under a piece of paper that had had LA written on it but the rest had been torn off. After 10 mins I realised that the DIES was missing and I was in the ladies queue for tickets - it was too late to change, some 20 men at the adjacent window and 5 stroppy looking women behind me. I thought they would forgive this ignorant foreigner; no way the kiosk opened and I had to start a full scale blocking manoeuvre while the boys in front of me were served; I moved left and right and just as I thought I had cracked it shoving my 5 Rupee note through the little hole in the wall somehow the woman behind with a neat flanking move got her hand further into the hole than me and was served first. Well she taught me a lesson but I still haven't got over it - just had to now make sure we didn't sit in the ladies area on the ferry. Gill of course knew all about this queuing business because she reads guide books.

Fort Cochin has changed hands many times in the past with RC Portuguese -(Vasco da Gama lived and died here) being replaced by the Protestant Dutch and being a huge port there were Chinese fisherman (they still use huge Chinese style fishing nets when the tide turns) and Jewish merchants. We happened upon a huge basilica and were amazed at the size of the Saturday congregation which formed a 2000 strong procession out of the church looping all around it a couple of times and to a melodic chant interspersed by several deafening volleys of firecrackers until Mother Mary was safely delivered back to her shrine.

To balance things it was time to catch a rickshaw to Jew Town. - can you imagine asking for that as a destination in England, no PC here the newspapers refer to Pak this and Pak that - and we visited an ancient synagogue. It seems that after another expulsion a Jew and his wife swam into Cochin and was allowed to bring his mates to live next door to the Maharajah's palace. I met an Indian tourist who explained there were 70 Jews still in Cochin and 3000 in Mumbai; are there any Jews in England? he asked. I explained that there were slightly more than 3000 and he was surprised they hadn't gone back to Israel.

More wandering and we came across a Bollywood film being filmed
and for the second time this trip we were filmed albeit in the background. I also filmed the action and of course beautiful heroine who turned out to be not just any old actress but none other than Aisha Jakaia - well this chap was very impressed when I showed him my photo of her and told me she was the most famous actress in India - I always did have a good eye, I told myself!


Time to quit Cochin and cool off in the hills.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235901600/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235901600/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235901600/tpod.html Mon, 09 Mar 2009 05:05:23 -0400 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Ootacamund, Tamil Nadu, India

Ooty was high, some 2,200 metres and the only train that could manage the climb was a turn of the century, so called, Toy Train. Run as a normal part of Indian Railways, it consists of a Swiss steam engine that pushes 8 or so British-built and ancient wooden carriages uphill by gripping a third ratchet rail like a mountain funicular railway in the Alps. There were one or two major differences though, our train was stopped by elephants on the track and the Alps haven't seen elephants since Hannibal and when we climbed out at various stations to wait for the engine to catch it's breath, we had to make sure the monkeys didn't make off with our bags.

Five hours, and only 46km later we crawled into the beautifully cool centre of Ooty. Well, not quite the centre, you see the Brits were here big time in cahoots with the local Maharajah and enjoying the good life, the centre of the town was a full size race course, right next to a full size boating lake, not forgetting a road junction that although named Charing Cross, more resembled the traffic craziness that is Piccadilly Circus - so cray that they actually had some traffic lights; very British in design but very Indian in effectiveness.

It proved impossible to walk around the racecourse and lake every time we wanted to pop out for the odd vegetarian thali, so it was rent-a-scooter time again. A bit more interesting this time with the wing mirrors long gone, a broken speedometer, broken indicators and when we realised that the headlight only worked on full beam we had to learn where all the pot holes were during the day and try and remember at night. As David would say, we caught air a couple of times but never managed to bounce off the machine completely.

Only having to get off and push once, our scooter managed to splutter up to the even higher lookout point - Doodabetta , the highest place in South India - here we were asked so often to be photographed with their wives or girlfriends that we started asking for 10 Rps a time. They couldn't quite work out whether we were joking or not, and nor could we, it is getting quite a bore!


We stayed in what turned out to be the guest house of the Maharajah's Summer Palace: the palace is still owned and used by the ex-Maharajah and he has turned it into a splendid hotel which would have cost us an arm and a leg had we seen it before we chose to stay in just his guest's wing. I should add that the Maharajah left space for a full size snooker table in our bedroom, but in it's absence we had to make do with playing hide-and-seek instead.

Even with the cool hill station climate, the wonderfully maintained St Stephen's church and churchyard had plenty of reminders of how difficult it must have been for the Europeans to cope with living in India all those years ago especially when they seemed to try and produce up to eight children apiece!

We enjoyed the break in Ooty and were only just ready for the suicidal descent by road where we dropped all that height in a one hour roller-coaster ride in a 1965 !!! Ambassador taxi. We chose the taxi as a far safer option than what I would judge to be an impossible local bus journey down the same route.

Next stop - another attempt to spot elephants and tigers.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235375760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235375760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235375760/tpod.html Sun, 01 Mar 2009 05:00:03 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Thanjavur, Tamil Nadu, India

So many temples so much time. One of the best temples in India is in Madurai - but unfortunately it was closed 'till April for renovation. One of the best palaces in the south of India is in Madurai - but unfortunately it was closed for two days for you guessed it - building works. So basically Madurai was a wash out - this of course is the problem with planning a trip yourself - or should I say yourself and Lonely Planet.

So we upped sticks and set off for Trichy and more temples. Here we were in luck - well it depends how into temples you are but both the ancient Hindu temples were ready to be explored and snapped. All this is done barefoot of course walking on a mix of stone,sand and the odd slick of oil that seems to be poured over any deity no matter where they are positioned. One temple, (the one with 479 steps!) was inhabited by bats so you can imagine the relief of getting back to the hotel and immersing your feet in the bottom washing bucket. Not contented with the Trichy temples, the good old lonely planet told Gill that there were more to be seen at Tanjavore - a must do, it said, because it was built in 1010 (some 4 centuries before the others) and was one of the few in this area deserving world heritage status.

With our religious halos shining and plenty of god knows what plastered on our foreheads by every "can I be your temple guide?" we were ready for another escape to the cool of the Ooty hill station as had Granny and baby Mum during the summer months leaving Granddad to run the railways in the 1930s.

]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235208180/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235208180/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1235208180/tpod.html Sat, 21 Feb 2009 05:07:26 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kanyakumari, Tamil Nadu, India

Alleppey is famous for its backwaters. The done thing is for the tourists to rent a traditionally built house boat usually a massive staffed boat often with air con and cruise around the very extensive and unmapped waterways in serene tranquility. How do you think we played it? You guessed it, this wasn't our style: we caught the 12 1/2 rupee local ferry to really catch the local flavours. It was a 3 hour ride from Kotyam to Alleppey and we aimed for the 1:00 PM departure. We got to the remote jetty spot on time only to be told that the 1 PM had been canceled with next boat at 3:30. Clever coz now it started - maybe you and some others could share a 1500 rupee trip on my 6 seat very nice boat. Maybe you would like to go by my nice car - the next ferry will make extra 20 stops and take extra hour and it will be dark and my boat will now only cost 1400 rupees and it has toilet. I taught them a version of sod off and and found an air conditioned dive that sold kingfisher premium - lots of kingfisher premium and several games of cards and several tasty dishes of who knows what later we were joined by the 3:30 ferry captain who knocked back a kingfisher himself and drew a questionable route map drawn on a napkin to impress Gill. When he left, we knew it was time to get aboard.

It was great fun. Who cared if it did stop 36 times: school kids in their smart uniforms were bussed to some of the stops to be distributed to homes all over the waterway network. One chap looked particularly diligent sitting there doing his homework, but when I looked he was drawing hearts with arrows through them - well the next day was Valentine's and it ended up with Gill being asked to draw a rose to help him on his quest. We really enjoyed our trip particularly as we steamed past the rows of those house boats as they traipsed along behind each other in quite close formation. Get a bevy and catch the ferry, is my travel blog advice.

The next day we did our Valentine's romantic bit not on a posh houseboat but in a canoe. We were paddled at zero miles an hour down the narrowest canals and we watched how the the waterways are a way of life. It was a Saturday so the kids were at home playing whilst mum showed their clothes some old fashioned discipline and after doing his hunter gathering bit by buying lunch from the fish monger's camoe, dad tried to get his palm tree speaker system to blare out the latest Indian hit parade to the whole village.

However our backwater lunch was one lunch too far. I have just about had enough of eating food with my fingers. It was served up on a piece of waxed paper instead of the proper way of using a banana leaf as a plate with four dollops of squidge surrounding a pile of perfectly boiled rice that refuses to stuck in balls. Basically you have to sit with your chin on the table and shovel each grain and all the squidge into your mouth as best you can. I might be able to cope with my left hand but that's not allowed in India your left hand is reserved for other unspeakable tasks. Suffice it to say, I have splashed out on a spoon that is now ready to make a surreptitious outing at the next banana leaf restaurant. Gill won't be getting the spoon as she thinks I am being far too British and moaning too much! You want to see the state of her shirt!

In one of said restaurants we met an ex office colleague - Peggy who is in India for six months. She was on her way to going native having just experienced life in an Ashram. She put me off trying an Ashram with stories of having to chant while shoveling food into your mouth so at our next stop ( Cape Comorin which is the bottom of India and neatly half way through our trip ) we tried a government hotel instead.

Cape Comorin turned out to be the Blackpool of India. It was crawling with visitors bussed from all over India and we found row upon row of their equivalent of pound shops except these were 5 rupee shops ( 7p! ). Amongst all this we found a pretty memorial to all those that had died in the 2004 tsunami and I tried to imagine what it must have been like to see those giant waves approaching. With two seas and one ocean meeting there, it was windy and wavy enough at the best of times.

Surviving the unbelievably dangerous electrics and the unbelievable bureaucracy of the government Hotel Tamil Nadu we caught our only first class train journey north for our second leg.

In our travels, we had seen the bottom of Africa, the bottom of the Americas and now added the bottom of the Indian Sub Continent.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234956240/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234956240/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234956240/tpod.html Thu, 19 Feb 2009 09:13:01 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Kumily, Kerala, India

It was taxi time now, for what turned out to be a 6 hour journey up hill to Kumily which is the base for the Periyar National Park. Once again we learned the art of the horn. Our driver averaged some 7 a minute so that tots up to 2500 beeps on this journey. As I had found out on the scooter, it seems to work we had a nice safe ride and took in the dramatic mountain scenery. After showing us a church, some ducks and a house boat our driver upped the anti and began giving us an agricultural running commentary in between and during his incessant beeping. So here goes, we saw the following plantations: tea, coffee, rubber, pineapple, cardamon, pepper, coir, rice, tapioca, vanilla and probably more. Possibly as you can imagine, Gill wanted the full info and stretched the taxi man's knowledge to breaking point on several occasions with questions about irrigation and crop frequencies!

At Mickey's Cottage we were made very welcome but cautioned about the monkeys. It seemed that they had just the previous day survived a raid by a troop that had smashed up trees in their garden and broken in next smashing ornaments and covering rooms with tea leaves.

Although we hiked and boat rided in the park we weren't lucky enough to get anything more than a brief and obscured glimpse of the wild elephants that the park is famous for. So we took the expensive option and visited one of the tame elephant farms and enjoyed a ride and giving a large female elephant a wash and scrub using coconut shells. Well if they are happy eating the rough ends of pineapples I am sure being scraped with half a coconut is quite therapeutic!

Our taste of Keralan culture involved a Kathakali show whereby it seems to take 6 years to learn the facial mimes, 6 years to learn how to drum the bongo and 14 years to learn how to apply the complex makeup. Oh I nearly forgot a complete performance also takes ages as we only managed one scene that evening which covered just 15 lines of dialogue. I shouldn't be so flippant, the colours and costumes were pure drama and there was no doubting the skill in the use of the eyes in the mime.

We were out watching the naughty monkey troop romp around at the top of the trees outside a posh hotel when we were asked to take part in another piece of filming. This time we had to sit in a jeep and be filmed arriving back at the Club Mahindra hotel after a day's safari in the park. After the fourth 'just one more take', I think it was, we were allowed to go, with no equity membership card I might add. So when you see the soon to be west end premiered Club Mahindra promotion film watch out for the budding bit part actors in the jeep!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234443120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234443120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234443120/tpod.html Thu, 12 Feb 2009 08:26:39 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Benaulim, Goa, India

Bikey (the hotel waiter) took a shine to Jelly (Gill). You're velly nice Jelly he kept saying and it was beginning to get on my nerves until true to his name he came up trumps and organised a nice Honda scooter at a bargain price to be delivered and collected from the hotel and off we went. I soon got the gang of it, the secret is to never stop and just keep beeping - cows, wild dogs and even people seem to respond to the beeps they don't show they are taking any notice but the don't step out in front of you. We went further south away from the development - we had heard that the central Goa coastline was packed with hotels and although there were still fishing communities where we were, hotels were being thrown up double quick. Many more tourists within the year I guess. ( I say thrown up because that is exactly how they build all the concrete is carried by head in woks and slung into position by strong fellows with good deportment) With the bike we could get away from all this and we found back roads to vast deserted beaches if you don't count the odd buffalo being given his daily bath. That did not destroy Gill's yen for church visiting. Firstly we found a Hindu temple
where they had some special event on. We were urged to join in - so shoes off garlands bought and into the queue we went. As we approached the centre of the action we tried to see what we had to do - it seemed that we had to pour oil over the icon but we only had flowers no oil. Well I made an attempt to douse my garland and hang it over an ear. Gill did much the same when I realised we were being filmed. We were then promptly interviewed by a Goan TV news channel with the interviewer asking the classic question 'how do you feel?' Tricky this - I wasn't sure it was a Hindu temple, I had no idea what special day it was and I had no real idea why we were there. Anyway blagged my way through it always thinking of David telling us of when he and his mate were interviewed in Delhi when he convinced them that he was a pop star.
We decided to mix a visit to Old Goa with a taste of Indian bus travel. It took three separate buses to get there and we were so knackered that we only managed one church. We found a local saint that never decomposed and was pulled out of his coffin every 10 years and put on display. Instead of wasting away he seemed to lose something every so often to souvenir hunters the odd toe and three parts of an arm. He will be let out again in 2014 - make a date for the diary! Three buses later we were gratefully squeezed out at what we trusted to be our stop and recovered the will to live at our favorite beach bar witnessing another magic Goan sunset! We were now ready to try an overnight express.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234359360/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234359360/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1234359360/tpod.html Wed, 11 Feb 2009 08:44:14 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Benaulim, Goa, India

We were a little nervous about our first Indian train adventure so we checked out Mumbai central station the day before just to see how the system worked. Here was the scene of the first shooting last November and the authorities had responded with some well sited metal detectors airport style. They were powered up and indicating walk wait go stop etc as people walked through but in true Indian style there was one ingredient missing - in this case, it wasn't staffed - nobody checked anything.
We were actually cheating a little with this journey as it was a nice easy one to start with - it was a day trip, all day actally, we were getting on where the train started and most importantly, getting off where it ended - what could be simpler.
Tickets booked on the web meant that hopefully our names would be on the manifest that is stuck to the outside of the relevant carriage. It worked like clockwork - in fact we overheard people saying 'cowboy movies' and pointing to our names before we found them ourselves.
We were on and after the usual middle man trying to swap our much sort after lower berth for his sick old client who turned out to be an incredibly sprightly old boy wearing a wooly hat and a scarf because of his 'temperature' - no wonder he has a temperature says Gill its 30 degrees and look what he's bloody wearing - I leave you to guess whether or not we gave up our seat.
There then followed 12 hours of soup soup tomato soup - chai chai - cofee coffee - chicken lollypop , what? Yes chicken lollypops exist and they seem to be what they say on the tin, haven't dared try one yet!
Boy did they have some staff - the second biggest employer in the world 1.6 million staff to handle 16 million passengers a day.
Finally we crawled into Goa's main station - our first 765 Km under our belt , we were up and running.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233926700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233926700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233926700/tpod.html Fri, 06 Feb 2009 08:31:13 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Mumbai, India

Having eaten all the past sell by date yoghurts and actimels we could find in the easties fridge we were ready for whatever bugs India could throw at us and on a cold Saturday night off we set. I say cold because it was obviously to be the start of the big England stay at home and enjoy the snow week. Not so for us Mumbai was hot and we hoped we could find a use for our weighty UK garb later in the holiday when we head up into the mountains.

The only way Richard Branson could allow us to sit together in his overfull flight was to upgrade us to the flat bed and massage class. Very nice way to start the holiday except that because they did not allow us to use the upper class lounge we managed to keep the rest of the cabin awake when Gill insisted having the lights on to see our upper class in flight meal. It seems that the paying upper classers normally eat their in flight meal in the lounge to allow for a full flight's sleep. Well we kept them awake until Athens. Even the pilot I should add, since he was trying to sleep next to us because he had to land the plane and had broken the key in the lock to his pilot's special bedroom.

But we did get a very useful tip from the very nice TV add Virgin Atlantic hostess. I am convinced that it is something to do with the Raj because the five and a half hour time difference is a bugger to work out unless you simply turn your watch upside down and it shows the time in good old Blighty. We have been testing the theory ever since.

Now for the travel bit of our travel blog - Mumbai was far more civilized and cleaner than we remember Delhi. We checked out the Taj hotel scene of what the Indians are calling 26/11 - they have fixed it up double quick watched by hundreds of onlookers from other parts of India just gazing from their perches on the beautiful seaside prom. Here is the huge Gateway to India through which the Brits marched their arriving troops before Gandhi had them marching back again.

Next challenge for us - a 12 hour train journey to Goa.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233145260/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233145260/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/easties/3/1233145260/tpod.html Wed, 28 Jan 2009 09:12:33 -0500 Let's see some more

Jump to the full
entry & travel map

Rickmansworth, England, United Kingdom

Thanks to Gordon spending all the money during the so called good times the "pound in your pocket" is shot at. So where do we shoot at? - certainly not at the US and of course Euroland is out of the question - let's set off for one of the pink bits on our school atlas - the sub continent - in fact the sub part of the sub continent. We will shoot at Mumbai and hope they don't shoot back.

This brings us immediately to a problem. OK, Mumbai is not on the old school atlas - but all schoolboys know that but - perhaps not Indian schoolboys? Surely Bollywood should be Mollywood? The naming conventions are next to impossible for booking. Enter "Bom" into the train planner and up comes Mumbai - clever. Enter Bang for Bangalore - up comes Bangalore - but what happened to Bangalore on the map? If Bombay became Mumbai - maybe Bangalore became Mangalore. Too optimistic- Mangalore turns out to be hundreds of miles from the old Bangalore which has actually turned into Bengaluru on the map but not in the train or flight planners. Ooty and Trichi seem to have three names for good measure.

Anyway we are off for 5 weeks - jabs and malaria tabs (thanks to Goa) all sorted. Some flights and some train journeys booked but we have no hard and fast schedule - we will go with the flow which hopefully will not become too much of a flow as we should be back before the monsoon season.

One thing about this blog - I try to give my impressions of the various places and people whilst keeping the story on track - I do get things wrong. I learned from my first attempt at a blog that some people take it a bit too seriously - for example all I said was that we did not see any terrorist training camps on the Paraguay / Brazil border and I received a huge missive explaining that I should not be so flippant as the bombing of a Buenos Aires Jewish cultural center killing at least 85 persons, and injuring hundreds more was a direct result of the training camps that I had said did not exist - saying "Readers of this blog will be misinformed if they think the area is not a locus of national and international terrorism finance. A simple search on the net would reveal that fact, though the author of this particular entry dismisses it."

Blimey - heavy stuff!! oh well - hope I don't upset the Tamil Tigers this time round!
]]>