Anyway, we are now in Cochin in Kerala on the West Coast of India. We headed to Bangalore from Chennai. Chennai Central Station was some sight, we arrived at 6 am and there were thousands of people there already- from a poor wee beggar boy who had 2 thin sticks of bone for legs dressed in rags with an outstretched hand holding a few rupees, to well off, well dressed Indians with the latest mobile phones and electronic accessories. The poorer ones had obviously been sleeping there all night in order to get their spot on the unreserved carriages. The more fortunate could book spots in air-conditioned carriages for the 7 hour journey. In their midst were 4 pale white, still jet -lagged travellers, hoping that figuring out the Indian rail system was as easy as an Essex girl after a few babychams.
Incidentally, some wag renamed Bangalore- "Bang-a-whore"- "Hello, I'd like 4 tickets to Bangawhore please." Snigger.
The trains turned out to be oh-so-simple, I think what threw us was that there were no delays, no track repairs, no termination of service with the last leg to be finished by coach. Why, when the British left India, they brought a 3rd class rail system back with them and left a clean punctual service behind, only Vishnu alone knows.
On the platform, as soon as the train pulled in, the mad scramble for a seat started before the train had even stopped. Fortunately, they believe in job creation in India, so there was a whole row of uniformed men with sticks, one with a loud-hailer, making sure that no one got on too early to get a seat, to be comfortable, for a journey that lasted about a 3rd of a day.
Bangalore station was no less busy than Chennai, found a hotel and had a good stomp around the city. The Auto Rickshaws seem omnipresent over India, but Bangalore's licence plates are the best-
They start KA (for Karnataka the region) then 05 (for erm, some other reason) making a neat spelling of KA0S, which pretty accurately describes the traffic situation. The driving test isn't getting in a car/on a bike and learning. It seems to be getting one those infants toys that have the different shaped holes with blocks that will only fit one hole. If you can get the square block in the round hole, then, my friend, you can become a driver in Bangalore., because these guys were seemingly able to fit vehicles in spaces that defied all known scientific laws.
Top Tip # 3 (the first 2 being Never trust a fart and always take the chance of a pee when it presents itself) No matter how still the night air, never leave washing on a balcony to dry. It may get blown off on to a roof below that results in some wee Indian having to shin up a drain pipe in the morning to retrieve your trousers and your mates' pants.
There's not much in the way of attractions there, we tried to get up to the Palace, it was mentioned on a "places of interest" leaflet- Got up there on Sat, asked the guy on the gate if we could get in "no, not today. Tomorrow. Open Sunday." Sound, we thought, got another rickshaw up there Sunday and once we'd prised our fingers from the bar and opened our eyes piled up to the same gate, with the same bloke. "No" he said and puts out his hand.
"Palace" says us.
"Not allowed in" says he.
"How do we get to see the palace, then?" says us
"You can't"
I thought "you're the cant, mate", but being the diplomats we are, we about turned and went to "MG Road" which was apparently the lively area of town, with some good bars.It did have a good bar, "NASA", all decked out like spaceship, but there's was also a KFC, Pizza Hut, Subway, Levi's stores, it could have been anywhere in the UK or America. All the young Indians dressed like westerners and the prices seemed to rise dramatically as well, whereas the part of town we're in, seemed to be for Indians at a more reasonable price and also more fun. We'd hardly seen a Western person in a week as soon as we got to MG Road, there was plenty.
Just up the road from us was a street we christened the "West End" (SC Road) It had some good local restaurants, a few bars and a big cinema. Sunday night seems to be THE night for the latest Bollywood flick. We ended up upstairs in a "Restaurant", in a room, with blaring music, and different coloured lights with a load of girls dressed in Saris on a stage - some sang, some danced while notes would be passed up to them from the guys in the crowd, some guys would throw money at them while they danced.
"Ay up" we thought. It's not quite a strip club, but it ain't "Stars in Your Eyes" night either. There was a guy who had been dancing when we got there who passed us a note and kept winking at us, I think Richie's presence had set off his gaydar. The note said about how he wanted to be our friend. Friendly bunch the Indians.
When the bill came for the beers they came to about 2 quid each. Bearing in mind we'd previously been paying circa 60p, all suspicions, fears (hopes?) were confirmed about what sort of place this was. (The thought of us selling Cath to pay for them didn't cross our mind. We've still got cash, you don't want to play your trump too early)
Now, from previous experience (I accidentally stumbled into a similar place in Budapest once- it was free to get in, 40 quid to get out) we got off lightly but i just wish I knew more about what was going on- the rituals, the symbolism. Unless the girl taking off her head jewels WAS the Indian equivalent of a striptease. The saucy wee minx.
Well, a Cochin night awaits, I'll try and upload some photographs soon
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