We got up early and had checked out of the Flora Airport Hotel by 07:00. The hotel ran a free shuttle taxi service to the international terminal which was very convenient. We had completed online checkin yesterday, but although I was able to forward my boarding pass email so that the hotel could print the attachment, we couldn't manage to do the same with Christine's. Luckily by getting the airline to resend the emails we got hers to display on the tablet. Both the paper and tablet versions were scrutinised and checked four times by security officers before we even reached the baggage drop. Cochin may be a very modern airport, but the procedure to get airside was painfully slow and took the best part of an hour.
The flight to Colombo was short and uneventful, leaving us a couple of hours in the airport to catch the connection to Male. It was after we boarded the next plane that things started to go wrong. First it was the plane itself, a technical problem was resolved, unresolved itself, then needed another hour and a quarter to be finally resolved again whilst we waited patiently onboard. Finally the captain announced that we could now take off very safely. Welcome though this information was, it still meant we were an hour and a half late arriving in Male.
This was then compounded by the luggage taking a further full hour to unload from the aircraft, so we were two and a half hours late as we walked out of the terminal. Imagine our happiness to find a representative from the Eriyadu Island Resort waiting for us. Not so happy, however, when he explained he hadn't been able to hold the transfer speedboat for us. And even less than happy when he eventually divulged that the next boat wouldn't be leaving until just before midnight to accommodate a group of tourists arriving from Singapore.
Given that the resort was 46 watery kilometers away, the prospect of having had to travel for the best part of 18 hours to reach our destination was not appealing to say the least. We sat in an overpriced waterside coffee bar where a croissant and two coffees cost USD14, feeling hard done by as darkness fell and people, buses, boats and aircraft came and went around us.
We didn't need to break the third country rule to eat as the Maldives has no indigenous cuisine to speak of, so we dined on Thai food with a clear conscience. Then I overdid it by eating an ice cream and a dumping episode ensued. About this time there was a torrential downpour hammering on the metal roof above, and I wondered why we had ever come here in the first place. Then sleep overcame me as I lay across a bank of seats and the next thing I knew was being woken with a start surrounded by Singaporeans.
Our boat was a thirty foot speedboat powered by two hefty outboard motors and capable of zipping through the waves at about thirty miles an hour. We were strapped into life preservers, a bottle of ice cold water thrust into our hands, and off we roared. The hull leapt from wave to wave, occasionally crashing into troughs and throwing up mountains of spray, but mostly although there was a lot of pitching, there was little yawing or rolling so the ride although jarring wasn't that uncomfortable. We have been on far worse. It was like being on a seemingly interminable log flume in the dark. The moon was partially obscured behind clouds and apart from occasional distant lights we were alone on the blackness of the ocean.
After about an hour the lights of the Eriyadu resort appeared before us and on disembarking we were given a welcome drink and a couple of sandwiches. The manager said that to try and make up for our delayed journey we had been assigned the best room in the resort, and because we had missed dinner we could have lunch next day even though we were staying on a half board basis. We eventually crawled into a very comfortable bed with the sound of waves lapping outside the door at one o'clock in the morning.
Sunday, 28 February 2016
Cochin to Cochin Airport
We walked to the spice market in the morning, and then to Jew Town. This was a rather touristy area of the Cochin waterfront, but curious in the wealth of new and old antiques being peddled in what had probably been old shop/warehouses. One shop had managed to fit a full hundred seater racing canoe inside it, over fifty feet long.
Tuk-tuk back to Tissa's Inn who arranged a taxi to the Flora Airport Hotel for us at IR1400 ( GBP14.00) for the 25km journey. We needed to be near the airport because the flight to Colombo leaves at 09:45 tomorrow, although we were able to check in online today with no problem.
It proved a wise decision as Cochin was being visited today by the Indian President and most major roads were shut as a security precaution. Our taxi driver used a cunning route to avoid the chaos, by taking a ferry rather than driving to the mainland. This was a roro ferry with a difference, it was reverse on roll off. The queue for the ferry consisted of a row of vehicles all moving in reverse, quite surreal.
The journey still took quite a long time, and we didn't reach the Flora Airport Hotel until 16:00. It is a four star international quality establishment and very comfortable. We were upgraded to a room with a sun terrace, so after a few lengths of the rooftop pool we retired to our terrace with the remainder of yesterday's beer purchases.
Supper was strange. We were unable to order rice with our curries, and ended up with rotis instead but no explanation. Then an Indian folk band started playing right outside the restaurant so we were serenaded as we ate. I think it was part of the celebrations for the inauguration of a new terminal at the airport today.
Tuk-tuk back to Tissa's Inn who arranged a taxi to the Flora Airport Hotel for us at IR1400 ( GBP14.00) for the 25km journey. We needed to be near the airport because the flight to Colombo leaves at 09:45 tomorrow, although we were able to check in online today with no problem.
It proved a wise decision as Cochin was being visited today by the Indian President and most major roads were shut as a security precaution. Our taxi driver used a cunning route to avoid the chaos, by taking a ferry rather than driving to the mainland. This was a roro ferry with a difference, it was reverse on roll off. The queue for the ferry consisted of a row of vehicles all moving in reverse, quite surreal.
The journey still took quite a long time, and we didn't reach the Flora Airport Hotel until 16:00. It is a four star international quality establishment and very comfortable. We were upgraded to a room with a sun terrace, so after a few lengths of the rooftop pool we retired to our terrace with the remainder of yesterday's beer purchases.
Supper was strange. We were unable to order rice with our curries, and ended up with rotis instead but no explanation. Then an Indian folk band started playing right outside the restaurant so we were serenaded as we ate. I think it was part of the celebrations for the inauguration of a new terminal at the airport today.
Thursday, 25 February 2016
Alleppey to Cochin
The hotel driver dropped us at Tissa's Inn in Cochin shortly after midday after quite a quick ride from Alleppey, some of it on dual carriageway. Immediately we entered the hotel we were pounced on by the chef who demanded to know what fish we wanted to eat for supper. Christine chose calamari and I chose mullet.
After a swim in the rooftop pool, we walked out to explore the town, quickly discovering the large Roman Catholic basilica and the Kathkali centre of which more later.
Then on to the seafront where we watched fishermen operate a set of old Chinese fishing nets. These are tall static A frame structures, counterbalanced so that a large net can be dipped in the sea and the catch landed with minimum effort. From what we could see, even minimum effort was not being rewarded by more than a few fish, but perhaps one would be my mullet.
After wandering around it was time for dancing. We went down a small alley to discover a theatre packed with people. Kathkali is a Kerulan dance form using exotic costumes together with intricate facial and hand gestures to communicate classical Indian stories. This is done to a chanted narration accompanied by drums and cymbals. It sounds challenging but after some explanation we watched it for an hour in fascination.
More challenging was getting a beer to go with supper. This involved hiring a tuk-tuk to take us to a seedy cabin with a large but happy crowd queuing outside. We passed money through a grill and were presented with a brown cardboard box which we secreted in the back of the tuk-tuk. Back at the hotel we were relieved to find the box did indeed contain bottles of beer, and the waiters scurried away to put it in a fridge.
The chef produced the finest meal of the trip. Both mullet and calamari were delicious, and a cool beer complemented them. As we were not allowed to drink alcohol in a public area, we couldn't eat at the restaurant, but tables had been set around the swimming pool for us and two other alcoholic English couples and we had a very enjoyable meal.
After a swim in the rooftop pool, we walked out to explore the town, quickly discovering the large Roman Catholic basilica and the Kathkali centre of which more later.
Then on to the seafront where we watched fishermen operate a set of old Chinese fishing nets. These are tall static A frame structures, counterbalanced so that a large net can be dipped in the sea and the catch landed with minimum effort. From what we could see, even minimum effort was not being rewarded by more than a few fish, but perhaps one would be my mullet.
After wandering around it was time for dancing. We went down a small alley to discover a theatre packed with people. Kathkali is a Kerulan dance form using exotic costumes together with intricate facial and hand gestures to communicate classical Indian stories. This is done to a chanted narration accompanied by drums and cymbals. It sounds challenging but after some explanation we watched it for an hour in fascination.
More challenging was getting a beer to go with supper. This involved hiring a tuk-tuk to take us to a seedy cabin with a large but happy crowd queuing outside. We passed money through a grill and were presented with a brown cardboard box which we secreted in the back of the tuk-tuk. Back at the hotel we were relieved to find the box did indeed contain bottles of beer, and the waiters scurried away to put it in a fridge.
The chef produced the finest meal of the trip. Both mullet and calamari were delicious, and a cool beer complemented them. As we were not allowed to drink alcohol in a public area, we couldn't eat at the restaurant, but tables had been set around the swimming pool for us and two other alcoholic English couples and we had a very enjoyable meal.
Wednesday, 24 February 2016
A visit to the doctor in Alleppey
We got up at quarter to six in the morning, but I was going nowhere. Christine explained to the tuk-tuk driver who had come to fetch us that I was ill and we couldn't go with him. For over a week now I have had a nagging pain in my left side, rather like Marvin and his diodes in the hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy. I've been trying to ignore it in panglossian fashion in the hope it would go away. It has generally subsided during the day, but increasingly woken me up at night, and been worst when I've just got up. This morning it was so painful that I knew Christine was right and I needed to see a doctor, I certainly couldn't sit on a kayak.
The manager of the A.J.Park hotel kindly drove us in his car to the doctor's surgery in a ramshackle old building where you had to remove your shoes to enter. The doctor was an old Indian gentleman with round glasses and a white beard who looked so experienced that just his appearance imbued one with confidence. He sent us to get an x-ray after a nurse had given me an injection of pain killer in the behind. The hotel manager translated everything for us and we couldn't have been more grateful for his help.
We walked down the road a few yards into another building where a nurse used an old fashioned x-ray machine to take an exposure of my chest. A few minutes later after the plate had been developed we walked back to the doctor and gave him the envelope containing the x-ray. The doctor held the film up to the light and studied it for a couple of minutes before pronouncing that he could see nothing physically wrong and that the pain was therefore muscular, probably caused by unaccustomed exercise.
He then wrote a ticket for some medication, which turned out to be muscle relaxant cream and big green pills to be taken morning and evening after meals which were presumably for the same purpose. The manager then drove us back to the hotel to start the course of treatment and after a while I started to feel better. The whole process had taken less than an hour, cost a few hundred rupees, and been so efficient that it made us wonder whether the NHS shouldn't send a fact finding mission to India.
We rested the remainder of the day, but felt confident enough to venture out in the evening. The hotel manager had offered to take us to Kochi tomorrow in the hotel car for IR2500 (GBP25) which seemed both reasonable and expedient.
We walked back to the seaside to visit the Chakara restaurant in the Raheem Residency which according to the Lonely Planet guide is Alleppey's premier eating place. Although it was a pretty place, both our fish dishes, if they had been cooked by a chef, certainly hadn't been tasted by one. Christine's was out of balance and mine contained the chewiest tuna I have ever been served.
Back by tuk-tuk, maybe the meal hadn't been a success but we were happy that the day had been as I was almost pain free for the first time in a week, and our travel plans were in place for tomorrow.
The manager of the A.J.Park hotel kindly drove us in his car to the doctor's surgery in a ramshackle old building where you had to remove your shoes to enter. The doctor was an old Indian gentleman with round glasses and a white beard who looked so experienced that just his appearance imbued one with confidence. He sent us to get an x-ray after a nurse had given me an injection of pain killer in the behind. The hotel manager translated everything for us and we couldn't have been more grateful for his help.
We walked down the road a few yards into another building where a nurse used an old fashioned x-ray machine to take an exposure of my chest. A few minutes later after the plate had been developed we walked back to the doctor and gave him the envelope containing the x-ray. The doctor held the film up to the light and studied it for a couple of minutes before pronouncing that he could see nothing physically wrong and that the pain was therefore muscular, probably caused by unaccustomed exercise.
He then wrote a ticket for some medication, which turned out to be muscle relaxant cream and big green pills to be taken morning and evening after meals which were presumably for the same purpose. The manager then drove us back to the hotel to start the course of treatment and after a while I started to feel better. The whole process had taken less than an hour, cost a few hundred rupees, and been so efficient that it made us wonder whether the NHS shouldn't send a fact finding mission to India.
We rested the remainder of the day, but felt confident enough to venture out in the evening. The hotel manager had offered to take us to Kochi tomorrow in the hotel car for IR2500 (GBP25) which seemed both reasonable and expedient.
We walked back to the seaside to visit the Chakara restaurant in the Raheem Residency which according to the Lonely Planet guide is Alleppey's premier eating place. Although it was a pretty place, both our fish dishes, if they had been cooked by a chef, certainly hadn't been tasted by one. Christine's was out of balance and mine contained the chewiest tuna I have ever been served.
Back by tuk-tuk, maybe the meal hadn't been a success but we were happy that the day had been as I was almost pain free for the first time in a week, and our travel plans were in place for tomorrow.
Tuesday, 23 February 2016
Alleppey backwaters
We walked through Alleppey, making two purchases worth 50p each. I found that I had left our kettle lead at the last hotel, so this was one of them. Christine had given away our antihistamine cream for a little girl called Irena, and this she replaced also. Alleppey is a wonderful working town not spoiled by tourism. There are so many small specialised shops it is easy to find anything you need. It is also clean, not smelly at all considering the presence of canals and fairly civilised ( apart from being dry).
We eventually reached the office of Kerala Kayaking and booked an early morning session for tomorrow, then a four hour cruise through the Alleppey backwaters in a small powered vessel for this afternoon.
We were taken outside the town by tuk-tuk and then walked with the boatman for about half an hour through coconut tree shaded villages just above water level to our boat.
We cruised through canals large and small, sometimes on our own, sometimes in the company of fleets of converted rice barges. These were of many types, the oldest where the planks were stitched together with coire rope then waterproofed with tar, the youngest made from welded steel plates. Apparently at 17:30 all these boats have to moor at the sides and the waterways become the domain of fishermen.
Sometimes the sides of the canal stretched away in acres of paddy fields, sometimes they were tree lined with bright blue kingfishers with red beaks grabbing fish from the waters. Some trees were home to scores of cormorants.
We made two stops, one where we walked to a church which incorporated the birthplace of a local catholic saint, famed throughout the world whom we had never heard of. The other at a canal side teashop where the cooking implements like everything else in the area were washed in the canal. For all that the coffee and tea tasted fine.
We returned to the A.J.Park hotel, then walked to the Harbour Restaurant near the beach for grilled Seerfish ( called Kingfish here) and chips and beer as it was that rarity in Alleppey, a licensed restaurant. Returned by tuk-tuk for an early night because we are being picked up at 06:25 tomorrow morning.
We eventually reached the office of Kerala Kayaking and booked an early morning session for tomorrow, then a four hour cruise through the Alleppey backwaters in a small powered vessel for this afternoon.
We were taken outside the town by tuk-tuk and then walked with the boatman for about half an hour through coconut tree shaded villages just above water level to our boat.
We cruised through canals large and small, sometimes on our own, sometimes in the company of fleets of converted rice barges. These were of many types, the oldest where the planks were stitched together with coire rope then waterproofed with tar, the youngest made from welded steel plates. Apparently at 17:30 all these boats have to moor at the sides and the waterways become the domain of fishermen.
Sometimes the sides of the canal stretched away in acres of paddy fields, sometimes they were tree lined with bright blue kingfishers with red beaks grabbing fish from the waters. Some trees were home to scores of cormorants.
We made two stops, one where we walked to a church which incorporated the birthplace of a local catholic saint, famed throughout the world whom we had never heard of. The other at a canal side teashop where the cooking implements like everything else in the area were washed in the canal. For all that the coffee and tea tasted fine.
We returned to the A.J.Park hotel, then walked to the Harbour Restaurant near the beach for grilled Seerfish ( called Kingfish here) and chips and beer as it was that rarity in Alleppey, a licensed restaurant. Returned by tuk-tuk for an early night because we are being picked up at 06:25 tomorrow morning.
Monday, 22 February 2016
Kannur to Alleppey
9:30 saw us on platform 3 of Kannur station looking mystified. Our ticket said carriage D2 on the Ernad Express but there was no information about where carriage D2 might stop. These trains are enormously long, some 24 carriages or so, and if you are not at the right place on the platform it can be physically impossible to get to your allotted seat.
Luckily several people we asked all confirmed that the carriage would halt opposite the food kiosk, and we waited there until it became obvious as the train pulled in that our carriage was 50 metres further back. A quick sprint ( relatively speaking with two rucksacks and two day bags) and we attained our goal. Two seats, one at a window, the other on the opposite aisle position, our home for the next almost eight hours.
The carriage wasn't full, so the journey started quite comfortably, but by the time it got to early afternoon things had gone both literally and metaphorically southwards. Despite the 30 ceiling fans and open windows and doors, the temperature had risen to about 35C. All the babies and children were too hot and wailing, many more people had got in, tea and coffee wallahs were loudly proclaiming their wares, then to add to the cacophony a lady with a sleeping baby strapped to her back began to sing for money.
Somehow, with a lot of water that we were carrying, and food that Christine had purchased from a very modern clean bakery near Kannur station, we survived the experience to emerge unscathed at Alleppey station. I estimated the Ernad Express had averaged 26mph during the journey.
Getting a tuk-tuk was interesting. You paid a man in a kiosk at the station one rupee, told him the destination and he printed a ticket with a very low fare to be paid to the driver. Prepaid taxis they called it, anyway a few minutes later we were at the A.J.Park hotel marveling at the miracle that is air conditioning.
Luckily several people we asked all confirmed that the carriage would halt opposite the food kiosk, and we waited there until it became obvious as the train pulled in that our carriage was 50 metres further back. A quick sprint ( relatively speaking with two rucksacks and two day bags) and we attained our goal. Two seats, one at a window, the other on the opposite aisle position, our home for the next almost eight hours.
The carriage wasn't full, so the journey started quite comfortably, but by the time it got to early afternoon things had gone both literally and metaphorically southwards. Despite the 30 ceiling fans and open windows and doors, the temperature had risen to about 35C. All the babies and children were too hot and wailing, many more people had got in, tea and coffee wallahs were loudly proclaiming their wares, then to add to the cacophony a lady with a sleeping baby strapped to her back began to sing for money.
Somehow, with a lot of water that we were carrying, and food that Christine had purchased from a very modern clean bakery near Kannur station, we survived the experience to emerge unscathed at Alleppey station. I estimated the Ernad Express had averaged 26mph during the journey.
Getting a tuk-tuk was interesting. You paid a man in a kiosk at the station one rupee, told him the destination and he printed a ticket with a very low fare to be paid to the driver. Prepaid taxis they called it, anyway a few minutes later we were at the A.J.Park hotel marveling at the miracle that is air conditioning.
Beach life
Friday 19th. A busy day doing not a lot lay ahead. Swimming was interesting as both of us encountered fish. A very large silvery fish jumped out of the water in front of Christine, and I accidentally struck a smaller greenish fish with my hand whilst swimming.
After lunch we took a tuk-tuk into Kannur to arrange train tickets to Alleppey and restock our money supply. The driver suggested rather than spending an hour queuing at the station, that we go to a travel agent where for a few rupees they would make the booking online.
It turned out that all trains to Alleppey on Sunday were fully booked, the best we could hope for was to be number 27 on the standby waiting list. So we changed dates to Monday when we could at least get seats on a train, even if not air conditioned.
The driver then took us on a tour of likely ATM machines. The third one that we visited allowed us IR10000 on each debit card, so now we had enough cash for the rest of the Indian trip ( we hope). I think the limit is because most machines are stocked with IR500 notes and the maximum that can be dispensed at a time is twenty
Back we went to explain that we were now stranded in paradise for another day, which caused neither us nor the kind lady at the Blue Mermaid any grief whatsoever.
Another swim, and I think I have found some small dentalium shells ( shells of a scaphopod), then yet another magnificent meal featuring spicy fish. Oh it's a tough life being a tourist.
Saturday 20th. Much like yesterday except even less done. Eventually we did manage to book a hotel in Alleppey, the internet connectivity here is patchy to say the least. This is far outweighed by the combination of culinary excellence, good weather and a fantastic beach.
Sunday 21st. Gosh. Even less done than yesterday. It's fascinating that the profile of the beach has altered completely in the short time that we have been here. Weather still sunny and hot, but the waves were too strong for swimming today. Spiced fish with a very tasty thali for supper.
After lunch we took a tuk-tuk into Kannur to arrange train tickets to Alleppey and restock our money supply. The driver suggested rather than spending an hour queuing at the station, that we go to a travel agent where for a few rupees they would make the booking online.
It turned out that all trains to Alleppey on Sunday were fully booked, the best we could hope for was to be number 27 on the standby waiting list. So we changed dates to Monday when we could at least get seats on a train, even if not air conditioned.
The driver then took us on a tour of likely ATM machines. The third one that we visited allowed us IR10000 on each debit card, so now we had enough cash for the rest of the Indian trip ( we hope). I think the limit is because most machines are stocked with IR500 notes and the maximum that can be dispensed at a time is twenty
Back we went to explain that we were now stranded in paradise for another day, which caused neither us nor the kind lady at the Blue Mermaid any grief whatsoever.
Another swim, and I think I have found some small dentalium shells ( shells of a scaphopod), then yet another magnificent meal featuring spicy fish. Oh it's a tough life being a tourist.
Saturday 20th. Much like yesterday except even less done. Eventually we did manage to book a hotel in Alleppey, the internet connectivity here is patchy to say the least. This is far outweighed by the combination of culinary excellence, good weather and a fantastic beach.
Sunday 21st. Gosh. Even less done than yesterday. It's fascinating that the profile of the beach has altered completely in the short time that we have been here. Weather still sunny and hot, but the waves were too strong for swimming today. Spiced fish with a very tasty thali for supper.
Thottada beach
The first night at Blue Mermaid started with a bit of difficulty. Christine had upgraded the room I'd booked using email to an air conditioned one, but the air conditioner kept on cutting out. Finally she called a man who diagnosed under voltage and promptly started a generator. After that it was fine.
After breakfast we went for a swim and to examine the rocks at the headland. They are massive laterite deposits, much like enormous thicknesses of the pan iron ore from the Cretaceous greensand back home. Weathering has produced a hackly surface which would rip the bottom out of any craft that ran into it and wouldn't do swimmers much good either.
The rocks were alive with crabs of all sizes, and as the tide retreated the bases could be seen to be clad in a mass of serpulid worm tubes.
On being told that my medical condition requires regular meals, the kind lady owner of the Blue Mermaid arranged for lunch to be provided for me for the duration of our stay. That lifted a weight of concern from us as only half board is available and there is nowhere at all close to get food.
In the afternoon, after another swim, we walked to the other end of the beach where we found a cave hollowed through the laterite leading to the beach beyond the headland. It was only a couple of feet high, but Christine wriggled through the ten yards on her tummy and I followed once it was clear that she hadn't encountered any fearsome creatures on her way.
We didn't stay long on the other side as the tide had turned, only to note crystalline veins, very distorted and interrupted, running through the lateritic rock.
We managed a beer at sunset overlooking the sea. A viewing platform has been built specifically for this purpose and as we stood there, one of the staff brought us two chairs to sit on. They are incredibly thoughtful and attentive here.
Supper was again superb. Spicy fish with rice and a variety of local Keralan vegetable dishes to accompany it.
After breakfast we went for a swim and to examine the rocks at the headland. They are massive laterite deposits, much like enormous thicknesses of the pan iron ore from the Cretaceous greensand back home. Weathering has produced a hackly surface which would rip the bottom out of any craft that ran into it and wouldn't do swimmers much good either.
The rocks were alive with crabs of all sizes, and as the tide retreated the bases could be seen to be clad in a mass of serpulid worm tubes.
On being told that my medical condition requires regular meals, the kind lady owner of the Blue Mermaid arranged for lunch to be provided for me for the duration of our stay. That lifted a weight of concern from us as only half board is available and there is nowhere at all close to get food.
In the afternoon, after another swim, we walked to the other end of the beach where we found a cave hollowed through the laterite leading to the beach beyond the headland. It was only a couple of feet high, but Christine wriggled through the ten yards on her tummy and I followed once it was clear that she hadn't encountered any fearsome creatures on her way.
We didn't stay long on the other side as the tide had turned, only to note crystalline veins, very distorted and interrupted, running through the lateritic rock.
We managed a beer at sunset overlooking the sea. A viewing platform has been built specifically for this purpose and as we stood there, one of the staff brought us two chairs to sit on. They are incredibly thoughtful and attentive here.
Supper was again superb. Spicy fish with rice and a variety of local Keralan vegetable dishes to accompany it.
Kalpetta to Kannur
We double checked with hotel reception last night, and were informed there was definitely no bus service to Kannur. We would have to change half way. Also we totally failed to find an ATM which would give us any money.
Today we checked out, left the baggage at the hotel and walked round the back to the bus station. I asked a bus driver if there was a bus to Kannur and soon a gaggle of drivers were deep in discussion. Yes they said, as if they had known all along, it leaves at 10:30.
As we returned to the hotel to collect the bags, we passed another ATM and this one let us have IR10000. The trick, it seems, is to withdraw your card after a few seconds.Only then will the machine ask you what language you desire and proceed to transactions. Unfortunately the instruction to withdraw your card, if it occurs, is only in Hindi.
So now we had cash and bus arriving to take us to our destination, but there was a catch. As we waited, we realised that even if the bus displayed where it was going, and many didn't, the conductor shouting the destination at the prospective passengers, most destinations were only displayed in Hindi script.
How to find the correct bus in the melee of comings and goings? Christine had a brainwave. She went to the tourist office which was now open, and in exchange for signing his visitors book (she was the first this week), the tourist officer would indicate which bus to get on. And true to his word, at 10:30 he pointed to an anonymous vehicle as it rounded the corner, and we confirmed with the driver that he was indeed the phantom service to Kannur.
After paying the fare of IR178 (GBP1.78) for the hundred or so kilometer journey, it was obvious that the conductor wasn't happy. We couldn't work out why for some time, but eventually understood. The hand painted squiggles on the wall by the first rows of seats meant they were for ladies only. So we retired to the mixed sex section behind and the conductor cheered up considerably.
The journey was fascinating. After passing through forested foothills, we climbed over a coll and descended a mountainside via a series of hairpin bends where the bus occupied all of the road and any vehicles coming the other way had to either stop or reverse to allow it to pass.
Soon we were on the coastal plain and the temperature increased from about 30C to about 33C. When we realised what route we were taking, we worked out that travelling in a northerly direction we should in fact pass the village near which we were to stay. Irritatingly the bus turned off the coast road before we reached it in favour of a wider main road. However the driver was good enough to drop us off at a tuk-tuk stand in Kannur near the road we needed, and we proceeded southwards the final four and a half kilometers by tuk-tuk.
The Blue Mermaid Homestay is at the end of a narrow road and occupies an idyllic spot between where a river has been dammed by longshore drift to produce a lagoon frequented by cormorants, and a wide safe sandy beach, all fringed with coconut palms. Headlands render the beach almost private.
And so we finished our transit of southern India, from Pondicherry on the Bay of Bengal, to just south of Kannur on the Arabian sea.
Today we checked out, left the baggage at the hotel and walked round the back to the bus station. I asked a bus driver if there was a bus to Kannur and soon a gaggle of drivers were deep in discussion. Yes they said, as if they had known all along, it leaves at 10:30.
As we returned to the hotel to collect the bags, we passed another ATM and this one let us have IR10000. The trick, it seems, is to withdraw your card after a few seconds.Only then will the machine ask you what language you desire and proceed to transactions. Unfortunately the instruction to withdraw your card, if it occurs, is only in Hindi.
So now we had cash and bus arriving to take us to our destination, but there was a catch. As we waited, we realised that even if the bus displayed where it was going, and many didn't, the conductor shouting the destination at the prospective passengers, most destinations were only displayed in Hindi script.
How to find the correct bus in the melee of comings and goings? Christine had a brainwave. She went to the tourist office which was now open, and in exchange for signing his visitors book (she was the first this week), the tourist officer would indicate which bus to get on. And true to his word, at 10:30 he pointed to an anonymous vehicle as it rounded the corner, and we confirmed with the driver that he was indeed the phantom service to Kannur.
After paying the fare of IR178 (GBP1.78) for the hundred or so kilometer journey, it was obvious that the conductor wasn't happy. We couldn't work out why for some time, but eventually understood. The hand painted squiggles on the wall by the first rows of seats meant they were for ladies only. So we retired to the mixed sex section behind and the conductor cheered up considerably.
The journey was fascinating. After passing through forested foothills, we climbed over a coll and descended a mountainside via a series of hairpin bends where the bus occupied all of the road and any vehicles coming the other way had to either stop or reverse to allow it to pass.
Soon we were on the coastal plain and the temperature increased from about 30C to about 33C. When we realised what route we were taking, we worked out that travelling in a northerly direction we should in fact pass the village near which we were to stay. Irritatingly the bus turned off the coast road before we reached it in favour of a wider main road. However the driver was good enough to drop us off at a tuk-tuk stand in Kannur near the road we needed, and we proceeded southwards the final four and a half kilometers by tuk-tuk.
The Blue Mermaid Homestay is at the end of a narrow road and occupies an idyllic spot between where a river has been dammed by longshore drift to produce a lagoon frequented by cormorants, and a wide safe sandy beach, all fringed with coconut palms. Headlands render the beach almost private.
And so we finished our transit of southern India, from Pondicherry on the Bay of Bengal, to just south of Kannur on the Arabian sea.
Tuesday, 16 February 2016
A trip around Wayanad
We weren't expecting much out of today, and our expectations were further lowered when we were told at 6am as we started the trip that all shops in Wayanad district had gone on a two day strike and we wouldn't be able to buy any food.
If I had ever doubted that not driving in India was a good idea, driving before dawn confirmed it was the right decision. How our driver spotted unlit vehicles in our path, how he still overtook on blind bends, I can't explain. All I know is I couldn't do it.
We had to reach Muthanga wildlife reserve entrance before 7am when the ticket office opened, which we did with quarter of an hour to spare. The reason was that the first couple of jeeps see the animals, the following convoy see nothing. We managed to share the second jeep and off into the reserve we went.
Shortly later we saw elephants close up, then an entire herd in the undergrowth. Sambar deer, wild boar, spotted deer and bison followed as we bumped along the rocky road. No tigers though, and altogether less animals than we saw in Yala. Good fun though.
Next we stopped at Sultan Bathery to visit an ancient Jain temple. The town was named after Tipu Sultan who bought cannon from the French in Pondicherry and stored them here, the name being derived from Sultan's Battery. They ended up captured by the British.
The Jain temple was explained by the temple guardian, both he and the driver agreed that the seven chakras or energy points controlled the body, and the religion gave both spiritual and practical guidelines by which to live life. Every stone in the temple, every carving on every stone, seemed to be imbued with meaning.
We found a wayside tea shack where the cook had just prepared some sort of deep fried doughnut delicacies which provided breakfast, then drove to Edakkal caves. These required climbing a kilometer and a half of first steep path and then steps up to and through the first cave. Stainless steel staircases then led upwards to the second. These caves were actually enormous clefts in the gneissic rock spanned and roofed by enormous boulders. On the walls were deep geometric carvings, reminiscent of runes, of unknown age and meaning.
Afterwards we visited the Wayanad Heritage Museum at Ambalavayal. This was a beautifully presented museum of local tribal life and we were taken around and the exhibits explained by a charming cleaning lady.
Lunch followed at Nest 'n Mist, a very clean modern restaurant which gratefully was open.
After lunch we walked for two kilometers at Neeli Mala which means blue hill. For this, apart from our own driver/guide, we needed another guide as it was tribal land. As we walked, there were coffee bushes on one side and tea plants on the other. Pepper vines were being grown too. Further on we came to tribal people building what looked like an irrigation tank, but it wasn't. They were building a temple. Not a Hindu or Jain temple, but a tribal temple to their own gods, as if any further gods could possibly be needed in this country. As we entered forestry land, we acquired a forest guide too. Eventually the five of us reached the view point. It overlooked the valley towards Chembra peak and was spectacular mountain scenery of the Western Ghats.
Finally, we drove to Soochiparra waterfall where a kilometer of walking brought us to an overlook to where scores of excited young Indians were playing at the base of the falls.
Tired but happy, we drove back to the hotel, safe in the knowledge that as house guests we would be fed despite the strike.
If I had ever doubted that not driving in India was a good idea, driving before dawn confirmed it was the right decision. How our driver spotted unlit vehicles in our path, how he still overtook on blind bends, I can't explain. All I know is I couldn't do it.
We had to reach Muthanga wildlife reserve entrance before 7am when the ticket office opened, which we did with quarter of an hour to spare. The reason was that the first couple of jeeps see the animals, the following convoy see nothing. We managed to share the second jeep and off into the reserve we went.
Shortly later we saw elephants close up, then an entire herd in the undergrowth. Sambar deer, wild boar, spotted deer and bison followed as we bumped along the rocky road. No tigers though, and altogether less animals than we saw in Yala. Good fun though.
Next we stopped at Sultan Bathery to visit an ancient Jain temple. The town was named after Tipu Sultan who bought cannon from the French in Pondicherry and stored them here, the name being derived from Sultan's Battery. They ended up captured by the British.
The Jain temple was explained by the temple guardian, both he and the driver agreed that the seven chakras or energy points controlled the body, and the religion gave both spiritual and practical guidelines by which to live life. Every stone in the temple, every carving on every stone, seemed to be imbued with meaning.
We found a wayside tea shack where the cook had just prepared some sort of deep fried doughnut delicacies which provided breakfast, then drove to Edakkal caves. These required climbing a kilometer and a half of first steep path and then steps up to and through the first cave. Stainless steel staircases then led upwards to the second. These caves were actually enormous clefts in the gneissic rock spanned and roofed by enormous boulders. On the walls were deep geometric carvings, reminiscent of runes, of unknown age and meaning.
Afterwards we visited the Wayanad Heritage Museum at Ambalavayal. This was a beautifully presented museum of local tribal life and we were taken around and the exhibits explained by a charming cleaning lady.
Lunch followed at Nest 'n Mist, a very clean modern restaurant which gratefully was open.
After lunch we walked for two kilometers at Neeli Mala which means blue hill. For this, apart from our own driver/guide, we needed another guide as it was tribal land. As we walked, there were coffee bushes on one side and tea plants on the other. Pepper vines were being grown too. Further on we came to tribal people building what looked like an irrigation tank, but it wasn't. They were building a temple. Not a Hindu or Jain temple, but a tribal temple to their own gods, as if any further gods could possibly be needed in this country. As we entered forestry land, we acquired a forest guide too. Eventually the five of us reached the view point. It overlooked the valley towards Chembra peak and was spectacular mountain scenery of the Western Ghats.
Finally, we drove to Soochiparra waterfall where a kilometer of walking brought us to an overlook to where scores of excited young Indians were playing at the base of the falls.
Tired but happy, we drove back to the hotel, safe in the knowledge that as house guests we would be fed despite the strike.
Monday, 15 February 2016
Mysore to Kalpetta
The driver turned up at 10am as arranged and after parting with IR3700 (GBP37.00), we set off for Kalpetta. I had an email from the guide we were supposed to meet tomorrow and all seemed fine.
After refusing to stump up a further IR500 to turn the air conditioning on because we had already paid for it in the agreed price, we journeyed onwards. The road was being widened for about twenty miles but wherever a culvert needed constructing, the surface reverted to sandy gravel. As many culverts were apparently required progress was slow and dusty.
Then we were stopped by a queue of traffic due to a major accident which had closed the road. After waiting half an hour and there being no sign that the road would reopen, the driver decided to circumvent the problem using unmetalled local roads.
It took about an hour to regain the main road the other side of the accident. We passed through villages where all the inhabitants came out of their dwellings to witness the unusual convoys of vehicles traversing their normally sleepy roads. The land was poor and mostly given over to cotton fields, looking to contain only dead sticks as the soil was so dry, except when you looked closely there were flowers even though there were no leaves.
At one point the truck we were following, exasperated with the slowness of the car in front of him, just turned into a ploughed field and drove across it faster than being on the road.
Eventually once on the main road again we reached higher ground and instead of cotton, coconut, banana and grazing, the land was covered by a dry forest. As soon as we crossed the state boundary to Kerala, however, the forest became greener and frequent speed bumps reminded us we were in a tiger reserve. However I'm not sure the tigers appreciated that most of the traffic had been calmed for them, excepting the one poor motorist who hit a speed bump at speed and ended up sideways in a ditch, as they were notable by their absence.
After three hours we reached Kalpetta and the sanctuary of the Best Western plus Ekobarn. Don't ask. Just accept that if an ekobarn exists anywhere, it is probably here. This hotel is a haven of good food, civilisation and tranquility in a maelstrom of hooting traffic, scurrying people and wandering pregnant goats, and if they want to claim to be an ekobarn as well, I'm not going to gainsay them.
The guide we had arranged to go with tomorrow emailed to say he was sorry but he had troubles which prevented him from working that day. He was the only reason we had come to this town in the first place so we were not best pleased.
After an excellent meal at the hotel, we tried to find the tourist information office to enquire about travelling onwards the day after tomorrow, but it was closed behind anonymous shutters. We found the bus station manager of the old bus station who told us there was a daily bus to Kannur at 10:30am from the new bus station, which didn't have a manager or anyone at all who could provide information.
The hotel desk however arranged at very short notice a trip to the Mutanga wildlife reserve at rather high cost, and for which we must start at 6am. They also arranged for a bootleg delivery of beer, this being unfortunately one of India's dry states. We paid the tuk-tuk driver who brought it, but hadn't realised the consequences of beer bumping along in a tuk-tuk, so were somewhat surprised and not a little drenched when we succeeded in finding the correct door fitting with which to open it!
After refusing to stump up a further IR500 to turn the air conditioning on because we had already paid for it in the agreed price, we journeyed onwards. The road was being widened for about twenty miles but wherever a culvert needed constructing, the surface reverted to sandy gravel. As many culverts were apparently required progress was slow and dusty.
Then we were stopped by a queue of traffic due to a major accident which had closed the road. After waiting half an hour and there being no sign that the road would reopen, the driver decided to circumvent the problem using unmetalled local roads.
It took about an hour to regain the main road the other side of the accident. We passed through villages where all the inhabitants came out of their dwellings to witness the unusual convoys of vehicles traversing their normally sleepy roads. The land was poor and mostly given over to cotton fields, looking to contain only dead sticks as the soil was so dry, except when you looked closely there were flowers even though there were no leaves.
At one point the truck we were following, exasperated with the slowness of the car in front of him, just turned into a ploughed field and drove across it faster than being on the road.
Eventually once on the main road again we reached higher ground and instead of cotton, coconut, banana and grazing, the land was covered by a dry forest. As soon as we crossed the state boundary to Kerala, however, the forest became greener and frequent speed bumps reminded us we were in a tiger reserve. However I'm not sure the tigers appreciated that most of the traffic had been calmed for them, excepting the one poor motorist who hit a speed bump at speed and ended up sideways in a ditch, as they were notable by their absence.
After three hours we reached Kalpetta and the sanctuary of the Best Western plus Ekobarn. Don't ask. Just accept that if an ekobarn exists anywhere, it is probably here. This hotel is a haven of good food, civilisation and tranquility in a maelstrom of hooting traffic, scurrying people and wandering pregnant goats, and if they want to claim to be an ekobarn as well, I'm not going to gainsay them.
The guide we had arranged to go with tomorrow emailed to say he was sorry but he had troubles which prevented him from working that day. He was the only reason we had come to this town in the first place so we were not best pleased.
After an excellent meal at the hotel, we tried to find the tourist information office to enquire about travelling onwards the day after tomorrow, but it was closed behind anonymous shutters. We found the bus station manager of the old bus station who told us there was a daily bus to Kannur at 10:30am from the new bus station, which didn't have a manager or anyone at all who could provide information.
The hotel desk however arranged at very short notice a trip to the Mutanga wildlife reserve at rather high cost, and for which we must start at 6am. They also arranged for a bootleg delivery of beer, this being unfortunately one of India's dry states. We paid the tuk-tuk driver who brought it, but hadn't realised the consequences of beer bumping along in a tuk-tuk, so were somewhat surprised and not a little drenched when we succeeded in finding the correct door fitting with which to open it!
Valentine's day in Mysore
Valentines day today. The President hotel is a business hotel and caters for Indian businessmen. So today we had dosai and idli for breakfast, just like Indian businessmen.
We tried to find a travel agent to book a car and driver for tomorrow, but most were shut as it was Sunday, and the rest either didn't speak enough English to understand us or had never heard of the town we were going to.
We gave up and walked to Mysore palace. It was spectacular both in design and construction. Difficult to believe that because the original wooden structure was destroyed in a fire, the current palace was the work of an English Edwardian architect, and that the beautifully ornate cast iron columns had been shipped from Glasgow.
In my opinion it ranks as one of the most spectacular buildings in the world. Exquisite architecture and ornamentation which could only work in this type of climate. The audio guide was superb and invoked the pomp and majesty of the Maharajah's 25 generations of occupancy of the site.
We returned to the ParkLane Hotel for lunch, and then resumed the search for a travel agent. Finally we found a travel desk in the United21 hotel, but it was unmanned. The receptionist however phoned the travel desk manager for us and we arranged a car and driver over the phone. I suspect life would have been easier had it not been Sunday as many shops were shuttered closed and the traffic very light.
At beer O'clock we returned to ParkLane, then walked to the Palace because every Sunday it is illuminated with thousands of electric lights. And so it was, absolutely magical until we approached the gates, and then before I had time to get the camera out they were switched off. We were grateful to have seen the spectacle, but a few minutes more would have given us enough time to fully appreciate it.
We ate supper back at the President and again it was historic. I ended up accidentally with a triple whiskey as I had ordered a double and it turned out to be 3 for 2 due to happy hour!
We tried to find a travel agent to book a car and driver for tomorrow, but most were shut as it was Sunday, and the rest either didn't speak enough English to understand us or had never heard of the town we were going to.
We gave up and walked to Mysore palace. It was spectacular both in design and construction. Difficult to believe that because the original wooden structure was destroyed in a fire, the current palace was the work of an English Edwardian architect, and that the beautifully ornate cast iron columns had been shipped from Glasgow.
In my opinion it ranks as one of the most spectacular buildings in the world. Exquisite architecture and ornamentation which could only work in this type of climate. The audio guide was superb and invoked the pomp and majesty of the Maharajah's 25 generations of occupancy of the site.
We returned to the ParkLane Hotel for lunch, and then resumed the search for a travel agent. Finally we found a travel desk in the United21 hotel, but it was unmanned. The receptionist however phoned the travel desk manager for us and we arranged a car and driver over the phone. I suspect life would have been easier had it not been Sunday as many shops were shuttered closed and the traffic very light.
At beer O'clock we returned to ParkLane, then walked to the Palace because every Sunday it is illuminated with thousands of electric lights. And so it was, absolutely magical until we approached the gates, and then before I had time to get the camera out they were switched off. We were grateful to have seen the spectacle, but a few minutes more would have given us enough time to fully appreciate it.
We ate supper back at the President and again it was historic. I ended up accidentally with a triple whiskey as I had ordered a double and it turned out to be 3 for 2 due to happy hour!
Saturday, 13 February 2016
Mysore
After a rest we went out to try and find a particular restaurant for lunch. We were heading for one only 200 metres away, but couldn't find it. This was because in our slightly befuddled state, we hadn't realised that the directions were from the front of the hotel and we had emerged from the back. A combination of lack of sleep and the date being the thirteenth perhaps.
The streets were appalling, broken pavements, incessant hooting traffic, smells of urine and litter everywhere. We found a bus station which gave us our bearings, and ended up eating in the themed restaurant of an upmarket hotel.
The theme was a jungle cave, but it was like dining in a coalmine. Very strange gloomy surroundings although the food was excellent.
Later in the evening we tried to find a market and failed again, but this time we went out of the front of the hotel across the dusty unmade road. It was a different world. The streets were pedestrian friendly with wide, even ( for India) pavements separated from the traffic.
Road intersections had statues in the centre and it was altogether more salubrious. Two sides of India in such a short distance.
We stopped for a beer in another upmarket hotel, then returned to eat supper at our own. The President hotel is primarily a business hotel, but it is situated only 700 metres from Mysore palace. It is a bit tired, but comfortable and the supper we ate was excellent.
The streets were appalling, broken pavements, incessant hooting traffic, smells of urine and litter everywhere. We found a bus station which gave us our bearings, and ended up eating in the themed restaurant of an upmarket hotel.
The theme was a jungle cave, but it was like dining in a coalmine. Very strange gloomy surroundings although the food was excellent.
Later in the evening we tried to find a market and failed again, but this time we went out of the front of the hotel across the dusty unmade road. It was a different world. The streets were pedestrian friendly with wide, even ( for India) pavements separated from the traffic.
Road intersections had statues in the centre and it was altogether more salubrious. Two sides of India in such a short distance.
We stopped for a beer in another upmarket hotel, then returned to eat supper at our own. The President hotel is primarily a business hotel, but it is situated only 700 metres from Mysore palace. It is a bit tired, but comfortable and the supper we ate was excellent.
Pondicherry to Mysore
Today was devoted to shopping. We checked out of the hotel but they very nicely agreed to look after our luggage for the day.
So with just a day bag Christine hit the boutiques, of which there are a lot. Part of Pondicherry's French legacy is chic couture clothing. Part of Pondicherry's ex-colonial status means that the taxes that bedevil retail in most of the rest of India are lower or absent here. So it is an excellent place to buy clothes.
After a few purchases, we stopped for elevenses at the number one TripAdvisor restaurant, a chocolate shop called Zukas. Then we decided to walk westwards to find Srinivasa Travels, the local agent for Greenline Travels whose sleeper coach we were taking overnight to Bangalore. This turned out to be quite a long walk as it was quite a way past the new bus station.
We confirmed that it was where the coach would leave from, we were booked on OK, and that the destination was the Majestic bus station in Bangalore. Then we walked back to the Baker Street Restaurant for lunch.
After lunch we explored M.G. road ( Mahatma Ghandi road - the Indians seem to love using just initials of well known names), hastening through the partially closed bazaar which smelt of fish. More shops followed on Nehru road then we adjourned to the park and snoozed a bit on a shady bench.
Afternoon tea was ice cream on the seaside promenade, then even more boutiques. Finally we stopped for a well deserved cup of green tea at the cafe des arts. I think we walked most streets of Pondicherry today.
Supper was at Villa Shanti again, although we could only get a table in the bar. The food was again excellent but even more let down by the extremely slow service, parts of the meal being only tepid by the time they reached us.
We walked back to the hotel who helpfully organized a tuk-tuk which took us to where the coach was waiting. It was a big new shiny air conditioned Volvo fully kitted out with proper sleeping compartments.
Off we sped, a sort of collection of random mobile massage beds on wheels to a soundtrack of whining gears. We were kindly given a bottle of water each, but no-one mentioned that there wasn't a toilet on board. The only comfort stop was four hours later on.
The time passed quite fast though, sleeping fitfully, and we arrived in Bangalore's heaving Majestic bus station about 5:30am. We started to head to the satellite bus station for a Mysore bus, but a gentleman advised us that train was better, so we turned down into the underpass to the train station. Then we had to get unreserved tickets.
Never seen queues like these. Christine managed by accident to get into a ladies only queue which was faster than the others and after 20 minutes had purchased IR120 (GBP1.20)'s worth of tickets for the both of us.
We got seats on the 7am express train which wasn't overcrowded. It slowly headed southwards at about 25km/hr and we reached Mysore at 10am.
A porter carried our bags to a tuk-tuk then our problems began. We were booked into the OYO hotel and the driver couldn't find it. After about an hour of touring the city, he tracked down a hotel with that name, not being able to read compounding the problem, complaining that the address was wrong.
When we got in it turned out to be the wrong hotel. The manager explained that although the booking said OYO, the hotel we were booked in was called the President. He bundled us into another tuk-tuk and the new driver couldn't find that either. It turns out that the road in front of the hotel has been dug up and closed to traffic, with the result the only vehicular access is through the back entrance. By this time with a combination of lack of sleep and frustration, Christine was close to tears.
Finally we made it, and thankfully got some rest before starting the day again.
So with just a day bag Christine hit the boutiques, of which there are a lot. Part of Pondicherry's French legacy is chic couture clothing. Part of Pondicherry's ex-colonial status means that the taxes that bedevil retail in most of the rest of India are lower or absent here. So it is an excellent place to buy clothes.
After a few purchases, we stopped for elevenses at the number one TripAdvisor restaurant, a chocolate shop called Zukas. Then we decided to walk westwards to find Srinivasa Travels, the local agent for Greenline Travels whose sleeper coach we were taking overnight to Bangalore. This turned out to be quite a long walk as it was quite a way past the new bus station.
We confirmed that it was where the coach would leave from, we were booked on OK, and that the destination was the Majestic bus station in Bangalore. Then we walked back to the Baker Street Restaurant for lunch.
After lunch we explored M.G. road ( Mahatma Ghandi road - the Indians seem to love using just initials of well known names), hastening through the partially closed bazaar which smelt of fish. More shops followed on Nehru road then we adjourned to the park and snoozed a bit on a shady bench.
Afternoon tea was ice cream on the seaside promenade, then even more boutiques. Finally we stopped for a well deserved cup of green tea at the cafe des arts. I think we walked most streets of Pondicherry today.
Supper was at Villa Shanti again, although we could only get a table in the bar. The food was again excellent but even more let down by the extremely slow service, parts of the meal being only tepid by the time they reached us.
We walked back to the hotel who helpfully organized a tuk-tuk which took us to where the coach was waiting. It was a big new shiny air conditioned Volvo fully kitted out with proper sleeping compartments.
Off we sped, a sort of collection of random mobile massage beds on wheels to a soundtrack of whining gears. We were kindly given a bottle of water each, but no-one mentioned that there wasn't a toilet on board. The only comfort stop was four hours later on.
The time passed quite fast though, sleeping fitfully, and we arrived in Bangalore's heaving Majestic bus station about 5:30am. We started to head to the satellite bus station for a Mysore bus, but a gentleman advised us that train was better, so we turned down into the underpass to the train station. Then we had to get unreserved tickets.
Never seen queues like these. Christine managed by accident to get into a ladies only queue which was faster than the others and after 20 minutes had purchased IR120 (GBP1.20)'s worth of tickets for the both of us.
We got seats on the 7am express train which wasn't overcrowded. It slowly headed southwards at about 25km/hr and we reached Mysore at 10am.
A porter carried our bags to a tuk-tuk then our problems began. We were booked into the OYO hotel and the driver couldn't find it. After about an hour of touring the city, he tracked down a hotel with that name, not being able to read compounding the problem, complaining that the address was wrong.
When we got in it turned out to be the wrong hotel. The manager explained that although the booking said OYO, the hotel we were booked in was called the President. He bundled us into another tuk-tuk and the new driver couldn't find that either. It turns out that the road in front of the hotel has been dug up and closed to traffic, with the result the only vehicular access is through the back entrance. By this time with a combination of lack of sleep and frustration, Christine was close to tears.
Finally we made it, and thankfully got some rest before starting the day again.
Thursday, 11 February 2016
Pondicherry
We started the fifth week of the trip by walking to the park at the end of the road where there was a grand pristine white monument in the centre. Obviously built by the French, its dedication was explained only in Tamil and Latin, so we were none the wiser.
Our next stop was the nearby Pondicherry Museum. This was a lot of fun. There was a room devoted to Greco-Roman potsherds as the area was an important trading centre in the Chola period between 300BC and 1200AD. On the first floor was a superb collection of geological specimens from all over India, a pousse-pousse which looked like one of the first motor cars but instead of an engine was fitted with a long bar handle at the rear for servants to push it, and a one poled palanquin which looked to be the worst designed conveyance imaginable.
Also in the museum, together with a pantheon of bronze gods, was the explanation of the monument in the park. It is called Aayi Mandapam after a 16th century prostitute named Aayi. A passing king mistook her perfumed and candlelit dwelling as a shrine and worshipped outside it. On realising his mistake he ordered the dwelling to be razed and replaced with a water tank. Aayi assuaged his anger by offering to fund the construction herself. 300 years later Napoleon 3rds army slaked their thirst at the reservoir and Napoleon, amused by the story, himself ordered the construction of the monument.
Then to the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, only to find it closed for lunch. If you can't beat them, join them, so we repaired to Baker Street, a restaurant on rue Bussy. Here we found what we were looking for, what we fondly believe to be the nearest spinach quiches to the equator.
Christine had bought three novels at a book sale opposite the cathedral, but by the time we regained the hotel they were no longer with us. After a rest, we returned to the Baker Street restaurant where they were restored, then returned to the cathedral which had now finished lunch and reopened.
We had given our laundry to the hotel yesterday and it was all delivered back today nicely laundered so we have enough clothes for the rest of the trip.
As I was waiting for Christine outside a clothes shop, two ladies and a gentleman appeared out of an alleyway. They all had cloth pads on their heads on which they balanced a handleless bucket of rubble. They trooped across the road, emptied their containers in a heap, had a short gossip, then disappeared back whence they had come. I was left musing that it was clearly cheaper to employ two extra people than buy a wheelbarrow. I'd previously seen builders carrying bags of bricks on their heads rather than use hods, so it must be commonplace.
After our evening constitutional along the promenade with the Bay of Bengal lapping at the shore, we retired to our balcony to drink our final bottle of beer.
Supper was at Villa Shanti, the number two restaurant on TripAdvisor ( Number one was a cafe). Pricey with main dishes costing IR325 or so ( about GBP3.25), but superb food in palatial surroundings made up for somewhat slow service.
Our next stop was the nearby Pondicherry Museum. This was a lot of fun. There was a room devoted to Greco-Roman potsherds as the area was an important trading centre in the Chola period between 300BC and 1200AD. On the first floor was a superb collection of geological specimens from all over India, a pousse-pousse which looked like one of the first motor cars but instead of an engine was fitted with a long bar handle at the rear for servants to push it, and a one poled palanquin which looked to be the worst designed conveyance imaginable.
Also in the museum, together with a pantheon of bronze gods, was the explanation of the monument in the park. It is called Aayi Mandapam after a 16th century prostitute named Aayi. A passing king mistook her perfumed and candlelit dwelling as a shrine and worshipped outside it. On realising his mistake he ordered the dwelling to be razed and replaced with a water tank. Aayi assuaged his anger by offering to fund the construction herself. 300 years later Napoleon 3rds army slaked their thirst at the reservoir and Napoleon, amused by the story, himself ordered the construction of the monument.
Then to the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, only to find it closed for lunch. If you can't beat them, join them, so we repaired to Baker Street, a restaurant on rue Bussy. Here we found what we were looking for, what we fondly believe to be the nearest spinach quiches to the equator.
Christine had bought three novels at a book sale opposite the cathedral, but by the time we regained the hotel they were no longer with us. After a rest, we returned to the Baker Street restaurant where they were restored, then returned to the cathedral which had now finished lunch and reopened.
We had given our laundry to the hotel yesterday and it was all delivered back today nicely laundered so we have enough clothes for the rest of the trip.
As I was waiting for Christine outside a clothes shop, two ladies and a gentleman appeared out of an alleyway. They all had cloth pads on their heads on which they balanced a handleless bucket of rubble. They trooped across the road, emptied their containers in a heap, had a short gossip, then disappeared back whence they had come. I was left musing that it was clearly cheaper to employ two extra people than buy a wheelbarrow. I'd previously seen builders carrying bags of bricks on their heads rather than use hods, so it must be commonplace.
After our evening constitutional along the promenade with the Bay of Bengal lapping at the shore, we retired to our balcony to drink our final bottle of beer.
Supper was at Villa Shanti, the number two restaurant on TripAdvisor ( Number one was a cafe). Pricey with main dishes costing IR325 or so ( about GBP3.25), but superb food in palatial surroundings made up for somewhat slow service.
Wednesday, 10 February 2016
Mamallapuram to Pondicherry
We reluctantly left the luxurious enclave of the Grande Bay Resort and a porter carried Christine's bag all the way down the drive to the bus stop about 20 yards away from the drive entrance. This was fortunate as the only sign that it was a bus stop was a disparate gaggle of people waiting at the roadside.
The first four buses came and went, there being absolutely no chance of boarding them as they were already overflowing with passengers. After being assured that the fifth was indeed going to Pondicherry as the destination board was completely in Tamil script, and had space to accommodate both us and our luggage in the narrow aisle as there were no free seats available, we boarded. We had only waited at the stop for about half an hour, and after another half an hour we had seats too!
This trip was more expensive than the last, albeit at 60km somewhat farther, and cost IR140 or 70p each.
We passed across a flat plain, mostly given to cattle grazing, rice growing or coconut plantations. Most dwellings were leaf thatched huts, but many were accompanied by small concrete box like houses too. Occasionally we crossed wide estuaries, one of which had an enormous area of small salt pans all producing ridiculously small heaps of salt using a small army of workers. Completely uneconomic.
Then the surroundings became more urban as we approached Pondicherry. Luckily the bus stopped in the bus station so we didn't have to guess where to alight, nor scramble off a bus impatient to be on its way. Sometimes passengers board and disembark from these vehicles without the driver coming to a complete halt at all.
There were lots of tuk-tuks at the bus station and after only a little discussion and scratching of heads a driver professed to know the way to the hotel address I had written on a piece of notepaper, and off we went.
Le Chateau hotel is on a road parallel to the seaside in the heart of the French quarter, in fact this was a French colony until 1958. Christine upgraded our room to a fine one with a balcony overlooking the road, and by 13:00 we had taken up residence in the beautifully converted old colonial room.
We then went hunting for lunch which was tracked down in le Cafe des Arts on the next road. The French legacy of baguette baking is alive and thriving here. A toddle around the area turned up the Cathedral des Anges and the tourism office, then back to the hotel for a cup of tea ( not an Indo-French cultural strength).
As evening of fell we went for a walk up and down the mile long traffic free promenade with hundreds of locals and a sprinkling of tourists. In all that distance I counted two cafes and a fancy goods shop. No drinking or smoking by order. No bars either, what a waste.
We had an hour before supper so tried to find a bar inland, but failed. An unexpected failure of the French legacy. Eventually we stumbled across an off licence at the bottom of the street the hotel was on. Amazingly it looked like a normal shop rather than a prison, probably because Pondicherry is a union territory of India but not part of Tamil Nadu state, and is allowed to set its own taxes and make its own laws.
Supper was in the rooftop restaurant of the hotel, a very pleasant spot. Christine asked the rather dignified man who gave her a menu whether he was a waiter. "No ma'am", he replied, " I own the place".
The food was good but possibly we had been spoiled by last night's spectacularly good meal, so we weren't as impressed as we were expecting to be.
The first four buses came and went, there being absolutely no chance of boarding them as they were already overflowing with passengers. After being assured that the fifth was indeed going to Pondicherry as the destination board was completely in Tamil script, and had space to accommodate both us and our luggage in the narrow aisle as there were no free seats available, we boarded. We had only waited at the stop for about half an hour, and after another half an hour we had seats too!
This trip was more expensive than the last, albeit at 60km somewhat farther, and cost IR140 or 70p each.
We passed across a flat plain, mostly given to cattle grazing, rice growing or coconut plantations. Most dwellings were leaf thatched huts, but many were accompanied by small concrete box like houses too. Occasionally we crossed wide estuaries, one of which had an enormous area of small salt pans all producing ridiculously small heaps of salt using a small army of workers. Completely uneconomic.
Then the surroundings became more urban as we approached Pondicherry. Luckily the bus stopped in the bus station so we didn't have to guess where to alight, nor scramble off a bus impatient to be on its way. Sometimes passengers board and disembark from these vehicles without the driver coming to a complete halt at all.
There were lots of tuk-tuks at the bus station and after only a little discussion and scratching of heads a driver professed to know the way to the hotel address I had written on a piece of notepaper, and off we went.
Le Chateau hotel is on a road parallel to the seaside in the heart of the French quarter, in fact this was a French colony until 1958. Christine upgraded our room to a fine one with a balcony overlooking the road, and by 13:00 we had taken up residence in the beautifully converted old colonial room.
We then went hunting for lunch which was tracked down in le Cafe des Arts on the next road. The French legacy of baguette baking is alive and thriving here. A toddle around the area turned up the Cathedral des Anges and the tourism office, then back to the hotel for a cup of tea ( not an Indo-French cultural strength).
As evening of fell we went for a walk up and down the mile long traffic free promenade with hundreds of locals and a sprinkling of tourists. In all that distance I counted two cafes and a fancy goods shop. No drinking or smoking by order. No bars either, what a waste.
We had an hour before supper so tried to find a bar inland, but failed. An unexpected failure of the French legacy. Eventually we stumbled across an off licence at the bottom of the street the hotel was on. Amazingly it looked like a normal shop rather than a prison, probably because Pondicherry is a union territory of India but not part of Tamil Nadu state, and is allowed to set its own taxes and make its own laws.
Supper was in the rooftop restaurant of the hotel, a very pleasant spot. Christine asked the rather dignified man who gave her a menu whether he was a waiter. "No ma'am", he replied, " I own the place".
The food was good but possibly we had been spoiled by last night's spectacularly good meal, so we weren't as impressed as we were expecting to be.
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
Chennai to Mamallapuram
After considering the pros and cons of travelling the 50km to Mamallapuram by bus or taxi, I found that Uber estimated the cost of the journey at only IR850 (GBP8.50). It took 2 hours to install the app and then when we tried to use it, it said that Mamallapuram was outside the Chennai service area and couldn't be accepted as a destination, despite appearing on the drop-down list.
So tuk-tuk to the local bus station at T. Nagar where we knew frequent buses were to be found. Despite being informed wrongly of the departure place and time, Christine discovered the bus just o it was about to leave. As it was at the start of its journey, we were able to secure seats at the back, next to the open door, open windows, open roof light, who needs air conditioning?
The total cost for us and the luggage ( which I think was probably the greater proportion of the cost), was IR85 or 85p. Incredible. The journey was not uncomfortable and we got a grand view of the countryside we were travelling through. The temperature was only 29C, so altogether a good result and we arrived at the sumptuous Grande Bay Resort at midday.
Life got even better when we found we had been upgraded to a duplex suite, with a sitting room overlooking the swimming pool.
After a swim, we walked into town in pursuit of lunch, but missed and ended up at the Shore Temple. This was an 8th century AD granite temple, but deeply eroded by the sea air.
Afterwards we retraced our steps to find the Gecko Restaurant for lunch, then walked past half a mile of workshops carving enormous granite gods and elephants to a group of monolithic granite temples including its own prototype lifesize elephant.
Then back via some incredible carved temples and another built on top of a giant granite core boulder and inhabited by goats and monkeys, one of which attempted to steal one of our water bottles from the backpack.
I have to mention Krishna's butterball. A gigantic quasi spherical granite boulder perched improbably on a smoothly sloping granite surface. It was although it was hanging in the air like bricks don't, to quote Douglas Adams.
It was sunset as we walked back to the hotel, on a dusty road with a mixture of motorbikes, cars, buses, tuk-tuks and pedestrians all going their separate ways with cows wandering around in the midst of the chaos. It certainly seemed like classic India.
We ate at the hotel, I ordered a spinach, roast pumpkin and egg plant chorchori. Christine ordered baby egg plant curry and we shared a coconut rice. The chorchori by itself was a little dry, but the combination of the three dishes was, to use Michael Winner's favourite adjective, historic.
So tuk-tuk to the local bus station at T. Nagar where we knew frequent buses were to be found. Despite being informed wrongly of the departure place and time, Christine discovered the bus just o it was about to leave. As it was at the start of its journey, we were able to secure seats at the back, next to the open door, open windows, open roof light, who needs air conditioning?
The total cost for us and the luggage ( which I think was probably the greater proportion of the cost), was IR85 or 85p. Incredible. The journey was not uncomfortable and we got a grand view of the countryside we were travelling through. The temperature was only 29C, so altogether a good result and we arrived at the sumptuous Grande Bay Resort at midday.
Life got even better when we found we had been upgraded to a duplex suite, with a sitting room overlooking the swimming pool.
After a swim, we walked into town in pursuit of lunch, but missed and ended up at the Shore Temple. This was an 8th century AD granite temple, but deeply eroded by the sea air.
Afterwards we retraced our steps to find the Gecko Restaurant for lunch, then walked past half a mile of workshops carving enormous granite gods and elephants to a group of monolithic granite temples including its own prototype lifesize elephant.
Then back via some incredible carved temples and another built on top of a giant granite core boulder and inhabited by goats and monkeys, one of which attempted to steal one of our water bottles from the backpack.
I have to mention Krishna's butterball. A gigantic quasi spherical granite boulder perched improbably on a smoothly sloping granite surface. It was although it was hanging in the air like bricks don't, to quote Douglas Adams.
It was sunset as we walked back to the hotel, on a dusty road with a mixture of motorbikes, cars, buses, tuk-tuks and pedestrians all going their separate ways with cows wandering around in the midst of the chaos. It certainly seemed like classic India.
We ate at the hotel, I ordered a spinach, roast pumpkin and egg plant chorchori. Christine ordered baby egg plant curry and we shared a coconut rice. The chorchori by itself was a little dry, but the combination of the three dishes was, to use Michael Winner's favourite adjective, historic.
Monday, 8 February 2016
Chennai (Madras)
Today we tried to get money out of the ATM next door, but it wasn't working.
Nothing daunted we walked half an hour to the nearest station at Kodambakkam, and caught a train to Chennai Fort. This cost IR10 for both of us, equivalent to 5p each. I suppose if you need to provide affordable transport for 1.6 billion people these sort of fare levels are inevitable, but channeling investment into the railways must be problematic.
There was some form of official gathering going on at the fort, but they let us into the museum where we learnt to distinguish grape shot, canister shot and chain shot and were extremely glad to live in an age where none were shot in our direction.
Afterwards a lady tuk-tuk driver drove us to the Government Museum. This after the inevitable discussion as to why we should want to go to a museum quite far away when there was a perfectly good one just around the corner.
The Government Museum housed all sorts of religious statuary, zoological and ethnographic galleries and even a dusty geology section. We mooched around and then found a nice clean coffee bar in a nearby mall for lunch. After returning to visit the contemporary art exhibition, most of which seemed very derivative of European styles, we took a tuk-tuk back to the hotel.
The ATM machine next to the hotel was now working, but dispensed only a maximum of forty notes. As it had been loaded with IR500 notes, that meant we were restricted to about GBP200, about half what we were hoping for.
We walked back to the Sangeetha restaurant for supper, not teeming like Sunday night but still incredibly busy. This time I ordered an oothappam. I've never ordered anything starting with oo before. When it came it was a thicker version of a dosai, somewhat soggy rather than crisp but very filling. I think I prefer dosai. Christine had a curried mushroom dish which was delicious. Total cost IR560, under GBP3 per head.
Nothing daunted we walked half an hour to the nearest station at Kodambakkam, and caught a train to Chennai Fort. This cost IR10 for both of us, equivalent to 5p each. I suppose if you need to provide affordable transport for 1.6 billion people these sort of fare levels are inevitable, but channeling investment into the railways must be problematic.
There was some form of official gathering going on at the fort, but they let us into the museum where we learnt to distinguish grape shot, canister shot and chain shot and were extremely glad to live in an age where none were shot in our direction.
Afterwards a lady tuk-tuk driver drove us to the Government Museum. This after the inevitable discussion as to why we should want to go to a museum quite far away when there was a perfectly good one just around the corner.
The Government Museum housed all sorts of religious statuary, zoological and ethnographic galleries and even a dusty geology section. We mooched around and then found a nice clean coffee bar in a nearby mall for lunch. After returning to visit the contemporary art exhibition, most of which seemed very derivative of European styles, we took a tuk-tuk back to the hotel.
The ATM machine next to the hotel was now working, but dispensed only a maximum of forty notes. As it had been loaded with IR500 notes, that meant we were restricted to about GBP200, about half what we were hoping for.
We walked back to the Sangeetha restaurant for supper, not teeming like Sunday night but still incredibly busy. This time I ordered an oothappam. I've never ordered anything starting with oo before. When it came it was a thicker version of a dosai, somewhat soggy rather than crisp but very filling. I think I prefer dosai. Christine had a curried mushroom dish which was delicious. Total cost IR560, under GBP3 per head.
Impressions of Sri Lanka and its people.
Impressions of Sri Lanka and its people.
Throughout our tour of Sri Lanka, the people have been very friendly, welcoming and eager to please. You are constantly asked where you come from and how many children you have, but it is not nosiness, just custom.
The English language is generally understood, but misunderstandings are rife, and it is necessary to repeat using several different forms of words to make sure your meaning has been interpreted correctly.
Phonetic spelling is the norm, and due to pronunciation variations is often somewhat wayward. The use of a dictionary or spell-checker is unknown. This extends to official communications, and is not just limited to the demotic.
There is little talk of the civil war and both Sinhala and Tamils seem to get on together, if anything there is more insularity along religious lines with Muslims keeping very much to themselves. The only discriminatory comment we heard expressed mistrust of Muslims. This is interesting as since time immemorial the island has been subject to waves of Tamil conquests followed by the Sinhala reasserting themselves.
Transport is by tuk-tuk, car, bus or train. Train is reliable if slow, you cannot run fast trains when the majority of the population use the track as a footpath, besides which you might hit an elephant. Bus we didn't explore because there seemed little chance of boarding one as the passengers were invariably packed in like sardines. Car is reliable and roads are excellent if narrow, so in Kandy for example car is probably the slowest form of transport. Tuk-tuk is superb for short distances ( 10km or less). The drivers go anywhere, usually at quite a pace. On the whole, getting from one place to another was remarkably easy, although quite time consuming. All forms of Sri Lankan transport are unable to function without a constant succession of horn blasts.
Towns are generally clean, sanitary and well maintained except pavements which are mostly either unmaintained or absent, making walking a challenge. We never felt in any danger when walking by ourselves, either by night or day, unless we had to cross a road.
Hotels and guesthouses were of good standard and generally helpful. Food was very good, especially Sri Lankan rice and curry, although this did seem to be the only indigenous dish.
In all we thoroughly enjoyed our trip to Sri Lanka and would heartily recommend it to others.
Throughout our tour of Sri Lanka, the people have been very friendly, welcoming and eager to please. You are constantly asked where you come from and how many children you have, but it is not nosiness, just custom.
The English language is generally understood, but misunderstandings are rife, and it is necessary to repeat using several different forms of words to make sure your meaning has been interpreted correctly.
Phonetic spelling is the norm, and due to pronunciation variations is often somewhat wayward. The use of a dictionary or spell-checker is unknown. This extends to official communications, and is not just limited to the demotic.
There is little talk of the civil war and both Sinhala and Tamils seem to get on together, if anything there is more insularity along religious lines with Muslims keeping very much to themselves. The only discriminatory comment we heard expressed mistrust of Muslims. This is interesting as since time immemorial the island has been subject to waves of Tamil conquests followed by the Sinhala reasserting themselves.
Transport is by tuk-tuk, car, bus or train. Train is reliable if slow, you cannot run fast trains when the majority of the population use the track as a footpath, besides which you might hit an elephant. Bus we didn't explore because there seemed little chance of boarding one as the passengers were invariably packed in like sardines. Car is reliable and roads are excellent if narrow, so in Kandy for example car is probably the slowest form of transport. Tuk-tuk is superb for short distances ( 10km or less). The drivers go anywhere, usually at quite a pace. On the whole, getting from one place to another was remarkably easy, although quite time consuming. All forms of Sri Lankan transport are unable to function without a constant succession of horn blasts.
Towns are generally clean, sanitary and well maintained except pavements which are mostly either unmaintained or absent, making walking a challenge. We never felt in any danger when walking by ourselves, either by night or day, unless we had to cross a road.
Hotels and guesthouses were of good standard and generally helpful. Food was very good, especially Sri Lankan rice and curry, although this did seem to be the only indigenous dish.
In all we thoroughly enjoyed our trip to Sri Lanka and would heartily recommend it to others.
Sunday, 7 February 2016
Negombo to Chennai
Breakfast was almost perfect today, just the issue of substandard bacon to address and the hotel will have achieved a breakthrough.
The tuk-tuk driver turned up, but unfortunately without his tuk-tuk which had broken down. However, he had organised a fellow driver to bring his somewhat more dilapidated but working transport, for which we were grateful and gave him a couple of hundred rupees for his trouble. He seemed very grateful, and we set off for the airport.
Tuk-tuks are forbidden to use the official drop off point, but have a semi-official place to stop just out of sight of it. It is less than 50 yards walk down the road, which considering the difference in cost between a tuk-tuk and a taxi is a very minor inconvenience.
We had allowed a couple of hours spare in case of any disruptions, but despite coming across a minor traffic accident ( The fifth in three weeks), the journey went smoothly. Possibly the longest delay we encountered was the exhaustive checking of our Indian e-Visas before we were allowed to check in our hold baggage.
An uneventful flight was followed by photographs and electronic fingerprinting by a charming immigration official who made us feel welcome, so different from the USA where one is treated as a criminal.
Getting Indian money was problematic. There is no ATM in the arrivals hall, the one we were directed to wouldn't take Visa cards, and eventually we were taken to one in the domestic terminal some way away. This although accepting Visa, would only issue a maximum of IR10000 ( approx GBP100).
That was enough for a start, and we hired the helpful taxi driver to take us to the Accord Metropolitan hotel for IR800.
What followed was a wild ride, the nearest equivalent that I can remember was the virtual theme park ride in Futuroscope near Poitiers, France. We sped across Chennai, horn blaring, sometimes on the right side of the road, sometimes on the wrong side. Weaving around the supports to the newly constructed Metro, like the Bangkok Skytrain on steroids, the driver was coughing as if his last days were coming, but I don't think his demise will be health related. There is an impressive new Metro station at the airport, but it looks like there is still a lot of work to do before it becomes operational.
We alighted with relief at the hotel, the taxi only allowed in after the underneath had been inspected by a wheeled mirror. They must still be jumpy here.
The Accord Metropolitan is very grand, lots of doormen and acres of marble, and comfortable too. After settling in, we walked to the nearby very lively Pondy Bazaar, then found a wonderful vegetarian restaurant for supper. I have no idea what Christine ordered and neither has she, but it turned out to be a very tasty curry and rice.
I was also brave and ordered a dosai. It turned out to be a huge thin folded pancake filled with spicy vegetables and with three different accompaniments and a bowl of curry sauce. It was very tasty and cost IR100, of course inflated another 25% or so by various taxes.
The tuk-tuk driver turned up, but unfortunately without his tuk-tuk which had broken down. However, he had organised a fellow driver to bring his somewhat more dilapidated but working transport, for which we were grateful and gave him a couple of hundred rupees for his trouble. He seemed very grateful, and we set off for the airport.
Tuk-tuks are forbidden to use the official drop off point, but have a semi-official place to stop just out of sight of it. It is less than 50 yards walk down the road, which considering the difference in cost between a tuk-tuk and a taxi is a very minor inconvenience.
We had allowed a couple of hours spare in case of any disruptions, but despite coming across a minor traffic accident ( The fifth in three weeks), the journey went smoothly. Possibly the longest delay we encountered was the exhaustive checking of our Indian e-Visas before we were allowed to check in our hold baggage.
An uneventful flight was followed by photographs and electronic fingerprinting by a charming immigration official who made us feel welcome, so different from the USA where one is treated as a criminal.
Getting Indian money was problematic. There is no ATM in the arrivals hall, the one we were directed to wouldn't take Visa cards, and eventually we were taken to one in the domestic terminal some way away. This although accepting Visa, would only issue a maximum of IR10000 ( approx GBP100).
That was enough for a start, and we hired the helpful taxi driver to take us to the Accord Metropolitan hotel for IR800.
What followed was a wild ride, the nearest equivalent that I can remember was the virtual theme park ride in Futuroscope near Poitiers, France. We sped across Chennai, horn blaring, sometimes on the right side of the road, sometimes on the wrong side. Weaving around the supports to the newly constructed Metro, like the Bangkok Skytrain on steroids, the driver was coughing as if his last days were coming, but I don't think his demise will be health related. There is an impressive new Metro station at the airport, but it looks like there is still a lot of work to do before it becomes operational.
We alighted with relief at the hotel, the taxi only allowed in after the underneath had been inspected by a wheeled mirror. They must still be jumpy here.
The Accord Metropolitan is very grand, lots of doormen and acres of marble, and comfortable too. After settling in, we walked to the nearby very lively Pondy Bazaar, then found a wonderful vegetarian restaurant for supper. I have no idea what Christine ordered and neither has she, but it turned out to be a very tasty curry and rice.
I was also brave and ordered a dosai. It turned out to be a huge thin folded pancake filled with spicy vegetables and with three different accompaniments and a bowl of curry sauce. It was very tasty and cost IR100, of course inflated another 25% or so by various taxes.
Saturday, 6 February 2016
Last day in Negombo
Breakfast was accompanied by fewer flies, but unfortunately Christine had to send it back as unacceptable, as the bacon consisted of two carefully concealed inch squares of pure fat. Apparently there was a 'problem with the freeze' (sic) but after a period of time fresh breakfasts arrived with better if not entirely satisfactory bacon.
Today was our last lazy day. We spent the remainder of the morning lazing by the pool, then eventually managed an online check-in with Sri Lankan Airlines for tomorrow's flight.
We walked back to the Bijou Restaurant for another excellent salad lunch, then went to reclaim our laundry.
There was a problem. We had been promised it would be ready today, but apparently the word 'tomorrow' had mysteriously been translated as 'next Tuesday'. So we reluctantly had to retrieve the unwashed laundry and carry it back, hopefully we'll find somewhere in India to get it washed.
After a consolatory beer or two, we walked back to Tuskers Restaurant for a supper of grilled Seerfish, a large relative of the mackerel, and returned by tuk-tuk.
Today was our last lazy day. We spent the remainder of the morning lazing by the pool, then eventually managed an online check-in with Sri Lankan Airlines for tomorrow's flight.
We walked back to the Bijou Restaurant for another excellent salad lunch, then went to reclaim our laundry.
There was a problem. We had been promised it would be ready today, but apparently the word 'tomorrow' had mysteriously been translated as 'next Tuesday'. So we reluctantly had to retrieve the unwashed laundry and carry it back, hopefully we'll find somewhere in India to get it washed.
After a consolatory beer or two, we walked back to Tuskers Restaurant for a supper of grilled Seerfish, a large relative of the mackerel, and returned by tuk-tuk.
Friday, 5 February 2016
Journey to the centre of Negombo
Breakfast had got inexplicably smaller today, and was attended by an annoyance of flies in the dining room which made it anything but tranquil. The air conditioning which is very new and has been very good, unfortunately failed last night which meant we hadn't spent a very comfortable night either. As we left the hotel, it was in the grips of a power cut. This also meant no water so I was obliged to fill a waste bin from the swimming pool to flush the loo. Not the best of starts to the day.
We dropped off our laundry at a professional looking establishment we had passed the day before. It should be ready tomorrow enabling us to start the Indian segment of our travels on Sunday with a full compliment of clean clothes.
Then we took a tuk-tuk to the city centre. At least that was the plan. Due to a slight miscommunication we ended up at the city food centre, a large grocery store, after declining to alight at the city tyre centre. It was still pretty close to the city centre of Negombo however, in as much as Negombo actually possesses such a thing.
Negombo is not pretty. It is a scruffy working town with a large fishing fleet. I think most of the ships were moored in the river today as yesterday had been a holiday, but long strips of ground by the fish market were covered in silvery blankets of fish drying in the sun.
The only archeological remains, a last surviving archway of the old Dutch fort inscribed 1678, now leads to the city prison.
Elevenses was at a local bakery, but unfortunately the buns I chose although looking like ones I had eaten before, were so highly charged with sugar that they caused a dumping episode. My own fault, I shouldn't have eaten them when I realised how sweet they were.
Still we caught a tuk-tuk back to the hotel and after a couple of hours rest I recovered OK. We have arranged with the tuk-tuk driver that he will pick us up and take us to the airport on Sunday morning.
As night fell, we walked half an hour to a recommended restaurant called Lords for supper. This is entirely patronised by foreigners, has a saxophonist playing on Friday nights and is number one on Trip Advisor. It was very busy but we got a table immediately although perilously close to a carp infested channel with constant streams of water descending from the ceiling into it. One false move and we would have got very wet. The food however, although pricey, was first rate, as was the ambience. We found a tuk-tuk home easily and went to bed feeling full and happy.
We dropped off our laundry at a professional looking establishment we had passed the day before. It should be ready tomorrow enabling us to start the Indian segment of our travels on Sunday with a full compliment of clean clothes.
Then we took a tuk-tuk to the city centre. At least that was the plan. Due to a slight miscommunication we ended up at the city food centre, a large grocery store, after declining to alight at the city tyre centre. It was still pretty close to the city centre of Negombo however, in as much as Negombo actually possesses such a thing.
Negombo is not pretty. It is a scruffy working town with a large fishing fleet. I think most of the ships were moored in the river today as yesterday had been a holiday, but long strips of ground by the fish market were covered in silvery blankets of fish drying in the sun.
The only archeological remains, a last surviving archway of the old Dutch fort inscribed 1678, now leads to the city prison.
Elevenses was at a local bakery, but unfortunately the buns I chose although looking like ones I had eaten before, were so highly charged with sugar that they caused a dumping episode. My own fault, I shouldn't have eaten them when I realised how sweet they were.
Still we caught a tuk-tuk back to the hotel and after a couple of hours rest I recovered OK. We have arranged with the tuk-tuk driver that he will pick us up and take us to the airport on Sunday morning.
As night fell, we walked half an hour to a recommended restaurant called Lords for supper. This is entirely patronised by foreigners, has a saxophonist playing on Friday nights and is number one on Trip Advisor. It was very busy but we got a table immediately although perilously close to a carp infested channel with constant streams of water descending from the ceiling into it. One false move and we would have got very wet. The food however, although pricey, was first rate, as was the ambience. We found a tuk-tuk home easily and went to bed feeling full and happy.
Thursday, 4 February 2016
Independence Day in Negombo
Today we did very little. Attempted to organise the Wayanad section of the India tour, and sunbathed by the pool.
Breakfast made Christine giggle. An omelette was arrived with baked beans daintily served in a shot glass.
Then we walked northwards to the beach to see whether the northern beaches were different to the one we were on yesterday. The answer was no. They are all somewhat scruffy, partially because fishermen like farmers are not naturally tidy people, but largely because no beach cleaning seems to occur.
It is Independence Day today, and the locals are preparing for large parties on the beach. Most shops are closed and there is little traffic. Many of the vehicles that are on the road are proudly flying Sri Lankan flags.
We had a good salad lunch at the Bijou Restaurant, a Swiss run establishment. Then walked back to swim and drink beer. It's a hard life being a tourist.
Supper at the hotel was accompanied by the Sri Lankan equivalent of an oompah band. An accordionist, guitarist and drummer playing and singing almost recognizable 60s songs. Somewhat incongruous in a boutique hotel trying to achieve fine dining, until you realise that although the place is aiming at a high standard of style, it consistantly fails because it really doesn't understand what style is. The results are often comic, but at the same time sad as so much effort is being misapplied. Somewhere here is the possibility of a sequel to Fawlty Towers.
Breakfast made Christine giggle. An omelette was arrived with baked beans daintily served in a shot glass.
Then we walked northwards to the beach to see whether the northern beaches were different to the one we were on yesterday. The answer was no. They are all somewhat scruffy, partially because fishermen like farmers are not naturally tidy people, but largely because no beach cleaning seems to occur.
It is Independence Day today, and the locals are preparing for large parties on the beach. Most shops are closed and there is little traffic. Many of the vehicles that are on the road are proudly flying Sri Lankan flags.
We had a good salad lunch at the Bijou Restaurant, a Swiss run establishment. Then walked back to swim and drink beer. It's a hard life being a tourist.
Supper at the hotel was accompanied by the Sri Lankan equivalent of an oompah band. An accordionist, guitarist and drummer playing and singing almost recognizable 60s songs. Somewhat incongruous in a boutique hotel trying to achieve fine dining, until you realise that although the place is aiming at a high standard of style, it consistantly fails because it really doesn't understand what style is. The results are often comic, but at the same time sad as so much effort is being misapplied. Somewhere here is the possibility of a sequel to Fawlty Towers.
Wednesday, 3 February 2016
Dambulla to Negombo
We decided to extend our driver's contract by getting him to take us to our final Sri Lankan destination in Negombo where we hope to relax and recuperate in advance of the Indian segment of our tour.
The driver is named Sarath, his phone number is +94 777 438 876 and email address ttpdambulla@gmail.com and we can thoroughly recommend him.
As he drove us along the road, heavily congested because of widening works, I had time to contemplate the meaning of signals in Sri Lankan traffic.
No indication at all means: I am going to proceed normally, I am about to stop inexplicably, I am about to veer to the right or left, plus my indicator/brake lights may or may not be working.
Left hand indicator means: Any of the above plus my left hand indicator works.
Right hand indicator means: Any of the above plus my right hand indicator works.
Hazard lights mean: Any of the above plus both my indicator lights work.
Priority is determined by size as modified by speed and loudness of air horn. Thus buses always have priority and you may have to slow down or even stop if confronted by one coming towards you on what is nominally your side of the road.
As the size of vehicle decreases, the rules get more nebulous. The rules of course do not apply to tuk-tuks at all.
After the ultra-smooth and comfortable Amaya Lake Hotel near Dambulla, first impressions of the Tranquil Negombo Boutique Hotel on the outskirts of Negombo came as something of a shock.
Firstly, it was needlessly difficult to find as there is absolutely no signage at all to point to its existence. You have to phone it up for someone to open an anonymous roadside gate.
Secondly, located alongside a moderately busy road under the flightpath of the international airport, the word tranquil is somewhat of a misnomer.
We were ushered into a ground floor bedroom festooned with bright blue LED lighting with a remote control sporting a baffling array of buttons, I presume to underline the hotel's 'boutique' credentials. The television was only connected to a SSD drive and thus couldn't receive any broadcast signal. The spacious bathroom contained enough space for several baths, but was only fitted with a shower.
Leaving the hotel on foot, we walked westward along little roads, buying buns at small wayside bakeries, until we got to the sea. We noticed several people with bags of beer and tracked down the local wine store, the equivalent of an off licence. Here the helpful assistant informed us that all the shops will be closed tomorrow for independence day, so we stocked up on beer for the duration.
A beer at the Port Bar on the beach at sunset, then we ambled to the Tusker restaurant where they served us an excellent seafood platter and I tasted the local firewater. This is called Arrack, distilled from fermented coconut flower sap, and very commendable it is too.
The driver is named Sarath, his phone number is +94 777 438 876 and email address ttpdambulla@gmail.com and we can thoroughly recommend him.
As he drove us along the road, heavily congested because of widening works, I had time to contemplate the meaning of signals in Sri Lankan traffic.
No indication at all means: I am going to proceed normally, I am about to stop inexplicably, I am about to veer to the right or left, plus my indicator/brake lights may or may not be working.
Left hand indicator means: Any of the above plus my left hand indicator works.
Right hand indicator means: Any of the above plus my right hand indicator works.
Hazard lights mean: Any of the above plus both my indicator lights work.
Priority is determined by size as modified by speed and loudness of air horn. Thus buses always have priority and you may have to slow down or even stop if confronted by one coming towards you on what is nominally your side of the road.
As the size of vehicle decreases, the rules get more nebulous. The rules of course do not apply to tuk-tuks at all.
After the ultra-smooth and comfortable Amaya Lake Hotel near Dambulla, first impressions of the Tranquil Negombo Boutique Hotel on the outskirts of Negombo came as something of a shock.
Firstly, it was needlessly difficult to find as there is absolutely no signage at all to point to its existence. You have to phone it up for someone to open an anonymous roadside gate.
Secondly, located alongside a moderately busy road under the flightpath of the international airport, the word tranquil is somewhat of a misnomer.
We were ushered into a ground floor bedroom festooned with bright blue LED lighting with a remote control sporting a baffling array of buttons, I presume to underline the hotel's 'boutique' credentials. The television was only connected to a SSD drive and thus couldn't receive any broadcast signal. The spacious bathroom contained enough space for several baths, but was only fitted with a shower.
Leaving the hotel on foot, we walked westward along little roads, buying buns at small wayside bakeries, until we got to the sea. We noticed several people with bags of beer and tracked down the local wine store, the equivalent of an off licence. Here the helpful assistant informed us that all the shops will be closed tomorrow for independence day, so we stocked up on beer for the duration.
A beer at the Port Bar on the beach at sunset, then we ambled to the Tusker restaurant where they served us an excellent seafood platter and I tasted the local firewater. This is called Arrack, distilled from fermented coconut flower sap, and very commendable it is too.
Tuesday, 2 February 2016
Anuradhapura
Today started with an egg hopper for breakfast. This is the Sri Lankan culinary equivalent of its distant relative, the space hopper. It consists of a bowl shaped pancake in which is cooked an egg.
Then off northwards to Anuradhapura, an even more ancient city lost to the jungle than Polonnaruva. This site, although enormous enough to need a car to get around it, was less complicated and mainly divided into three gigantic Buddhist monastery complexes.
Each monastery had a giant brick stupa. We are talking structures which when constructed in the first few centuries AD, were the largest man made monuments after the pyramids of Gizeh. They looked like somewhat oblate prototypes for the Albert Hall, but completely solid and far less musical. To make the largest was calculated by an early archaeologist to have needed in excess of ninety million bricks, enough to build a three metre high wall from London to Edinburgh (although he didn't explain why).
The drive, although about the same distance as yesterday, was only one and a half hours long as the roads were better. We travelled across a low plain much given to rice cultivation. The irrigation system was first constructed by the inhabitants of Anuradhapura with thousands of dams, tanks and canals. It was the agricultural benefits of this system that supported the thousands of monks.
Then off northwards to Anuradhapura, an even more ancient city lost to the jungle than Polonnaruva. This site, although enormous enough to need a car to get around it, was less complicated and mainly divided into three gigantic Buddhist monastery complexes.
Each monastery had a giant brick stupa. We are talking structures which when constructed in the first few centuries AD, were the largest man made monuments after the pyramids of Gizeh. They looked like somewhat oblate prototypes for the Albert Hall, but completely solid and far less musical. To make the largest was calculated by an early archaeologist to have needed in excess of ninety million bricks, enough to build a three metre high wall from London to Edinburgh (although he didn't explain why).
The drive, although about the same distance as yesterday, was only one and a half hours long as the roads were better. We travelled across a low plain much given to rice cultivation. The irrigation system was first constructed by the inhabitants of Anuradhapura with thousands of dams, tanks and canals. It was the agricultural benefits of this system that supported the thousands of monks.
Monday, 1 February 2016
Polonnaruva
We started with a very good and very large breakfast. That turned out to be important as we had no opportunity to stop for lunch, and it was nightfall when we returned to the hotel.
It was a two hour drive to Polonnaruva, a mediaeval city lost to the jungle for seven hundred years.
We started at the excellent museum which gave an overview of the hugely complex sprawling site. Gradually we worked our way from the extreme south to the north, parking at the most impressive complexes of the site.
There were innumerable buildings, monuments and temples, mostly brick built. What was fascinating was that the brickwork had long vertical niches formed in it to take square rock pillars. It was if the builders didn't trust the massive brickwork for structural support, instead putting their faith in slender rock columns. We have never seen such a construction technique anywhere else in the world.
The final location contained multiple Buddha statues carved out of a massive outcrop of gneiss. The workmanship was astonishing, the effort needed to do it was unbelievable. Faith can move mountains.
As we returned, we passed a lone wild elephant and then Sirigiya rock as the sun set. It looked magical rising precipitously above the surrounding forest in the dying light.
It was a two hour drive to Polonnaruva, a mediaeval city lost to the jungle for seven hundred years.
We started at the excellent museum which gave an overview of the hugely complex sprawling site. Gradually we worked our way from the extreme south to the north, parking at the most impressive complexes of the site.
There were innumerable buildings, monuments and temples, mostly brick built. What was fascinating was that the brickwork had long vertical niches formed in it to take square rock pillars. It was if the builders didn't trust the massive brickwork for structural support, instead putting their faith in slender rock columns. We have never seen such a construction technique anywhere else in the world.
The final location contained multiple Buddha statues carved out of a massive outcrop of gneiss. The workmanship was astonishing, the effort needed to do it was unbelievable. Faith can move mountains.
As we returned, we passed a lone wild elephant and then Sirigiya rock as the sun set. It looked magical rising precipitously above the surrounding forest in the dying light.
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