Sunday, March 15, 2009
Goa Blvd's Expectations
Left Udaipur with all the hopes of a stranded desert rat looking for green and found it in Goa, lots of it, and I'm not planning on seeing another desert anytime soon. Don't get me wrong, there's times when I'm something of a desert homeboy but nowadays I want jungles or mountains - after-all they're the flavor of the month.
During a brief stop-over in Bombay (that's right I'm bringing it back, because in the end Bombay sounds better than Mumbai), a city that wins my merits for being the smoggiest city that I can jive in, we ferried to and through the 3rd century Hindu caves of Elephanta Island, marched around the Gateway to India, marveled and solemnly approached the Taj Mahal Palace, huffed the smog of Chowpatti Beach (you can swim there, if you don't mind the 3 eyed fish), kicked it in Fort area and Colaba, observed the wooden wall shanty of the shittiest place I've ever had to sleep in, got lost with the 2 million people that use Victorian Terminus or VT or CST or Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (all the same place with varying degrees of difficulty in pronunciation), breathed the smog as giddy children threw dye on us for Holi, caught a Bollywood spectacle, wined and dined at India's best seafood restaurant - Trishna, gasped the smog while watching some impromptu cricket on the lawn before the near Gothic structures of the Bombay High Court and Rajabai Clock Tower, oh, and washed myself in the dirt that was the air I breathed in for a hot-humid - but wonderfully metropolitan experience. Bombay = best smoggiest city!
Believe it or not, with the price so high and the air so not clean, Misha and I hopped the bus and rode down to Goa. For those with not the opportunity to know this place, it's paradise. Close your eyes...but keep reading?...whisk yourself away in a dream fantasy with beautiful people or long haired ageing hippies, palm fringed beaches, white sand with lapping sea water from the mighty Arabian Sea, 80's in March, bills no more than 15 dollars a day - including food, housing, motorbike rental, drinks, etc., lush hillsides with friendly no hassle people - now open your eyes and know that most likely you have 1 more month of snow and no sign of a vacation. Sorry, needed to do that.
Goa, more specifically, Arambol Beach, is the first place in India that has me thinking about coming back. I'm not going to bore you with the beach bumming days filled with other things that would make you jealous, but I'll quickly elaborate on a few of the outings.
We took a motorcycle out for the 5 or so days we're here and have taken full advantage of it. One day we rode a little north of Arambol and ferried with the bike across to an even more quiet place where we parked at a beach, well known as Paradise Beach, oddly enough. There we cracked jokes with the local coconut cracker and let him crack a coconut for us, then dipped the straw in and drank coconut milk as we walked the idyllic beaches of...Paradise Beach...hmmmm, delicious. Even here I had the opportunity to be a hero. While sipping c-milk from our coconut I noticed a lone Goan riding his motorbike on the beach, something I thought unnecessarily disturbing to my Paradise experience, of course I found it a tad amusing when he stalled his bike and the tide came in. I watched for a minute as he helplessly dug his bike deeper into the sand, almost to make it out, then get smacked by the latest round of waves. I don't know what adrenaline came to me, perhaps the raw power of coconut milk, but I became inspired to help the man. I ran through the waves, to the poor Goan holding dearly to his bike, then lifted as he rev'd, lifted more as he rev'd, felt the wet sand smacking me in the legs as the rear wheel turned, then he was free - pretty much like saving a beached whale and it felt damn good to once again be known throughout this world as a hero. Misha thought so and that smiling biking Goan thought so too...coconut.
Went on a road trip to a small town named Chandor. It took 3 hours and I got a ticket for not wearing a helmet. I guess India does have laws. In my defense, one must wear a helmet only on highways in Goa it seems, and I don't have a helmet. Of course the officer started mentioning something of some other charge for not having an "international license"...hmmm what's that sir?...you say Rs 100 for not wearing the helmet and how much?...seriously why are you mumbling?... how many rupees?... Rs 2000!?!?!?....what sir?... me give you Rs 500 and you'll let it slide...oh so very kind. India doesn't require an "international license". That cop got a blackmailed pay raise. But, I breath better knowing that India in the end really doesn't seem to have any laws (joking, I don't want to curse myself). Moving passed this unfortunate case of power abuse, Chandor was hot-humid but crazily awesome. Misha picked this place because there are two ageing mansions that the owners love to give tours of. These once proud homes were owned by the wealthy Braganza and Fernandes families (very Indian sounding, give me a second), but now stand as a shells to a once rich past (pictures later). Lengthy descriptions aside, Misha and I thought that thinking of Dicken's, Great Expectations, or Billy Wilder's, Sunset Blvd, should put you so near what needs to be seen.
Quickly why the names above. Goa was and still holds a great deal of Portuguese influences, namely the architecture is something like Spanish Villa's with neon-pastel paint schemes with those red tile roofs, oh, and crosses...crosses everywhere. Goa is distinctly Christian, cows on the menu. Read about it if you want more.
So life is great. We've booked tickets to Kerala (farther south) in two days time and look forward to seeing it all, or seeing some of it. There's more to tell of Goa, and don't worry you'll hear it, but it's 9 pm and dinner is calling then the party, because it's a paradise out there and who doesn't want to party the night away on a beach with moon's shadowed palms.
-sam
During a brief stop-over in Bombay (that's right I'm bringing it back, because in the end Bombay sounds better than Mumbai), a city that wins my merits for being the smoggiest city that I can jive in, we ferried to and through the 3rd century Hindu caves of Elephanta Island, marched around the Gateway to India, marveled and solemnly approached the Taj Mahal Palace, huffed the smog of Chowpatti Beach (you can swim there, if you don't mind the 3 eyed fish), kicked it in Fort area and Colaba, observed the wooden wall shanty of the shittiest place I've ever had to sleep in, got lost with the 2 million people that use Victorian Terminus or VT or CST or Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (all the same place with varying degrees of difficulty in pronunciation), breathed the smog as giddy children threw dye on us for Holi, caught a Bollywood spectacle, wined and dined at India's best seafood restaurant - Trishna, gasped the smog while watching some impromptu cricket on the lawn before the near Gothic structures of the Bombay High Court and Rajabai Clock Tower, oh, and washed myself in the dirt that was the air I breathed in for a hot-humid - but wonderfully metropolitan experience. Bombay = best smoggiest city!
Believe it or not, with the price so high and the air so not clean, Misha and I hopped the bus and rode down to Goa. For those with not the opportunity to know this place, it's paradise. Close your eyes...but keep reading?...whisk yourself away in a dream fantasy with beautiful people or long haired ageing hippies, palm fringed beaches, white sand with lapping sea water from the mighty Arabian Sea, 80's in March, bills no more than 15 dollars a day - including food, housing, motorbike rental, drinks, etc., lush hillsides with friendly no hassle people - now open your eyes and know that most likely you have 1 more month of snow and no sign of a vacation. Sorry, needed to do that.
Goa, more specifically, Arambol Beach, is the first place in India that has me thinking about coming back. I'm not going to bore you with the beach bumming days filled with other things that would make you jealous, but I'll quickly elaborate on a few of the outings.
We took a motorcycle out for the 5 or so days we're here and have taken full advantage of it. One day we rode a little north of Arambol and ferried with the bike across to an even more quiet place where we parked at a beach, well known as Paradise Beach, oddly enough. There we cracked jokes with the local coconut cracker and let him crack a coconut for us, then dipped the straw in and drank coconut milk as we walked the idyllic beaches of...Paradise Beach...hmmmm, delicious. Even here I had the opportunity to be a hero. While sipping c-milk from our coconut I noticed a lone Goan riding his motorbike on the beach, something I thought unnecessarily disturbing to my Paradise experience, of course I found it a tad amusing when he stalled his bike and the tide came in. I watched for a minute as he helplessly dug his bike deeper into the sand, almost to make it out, then get smacked by the latest round of waves. I don't know what adrenaline came to me, perhaps the raw power of coconut milk, but I became inspired to help the man. I ran through the waves, to the poor Goan holding dearly to his bike, then lifted as he rev'd, lifted more as he rev'd, felt the wet sand smacking me in the legs as the rear wheel turned, then he was free - pretty much like saving a beached whale and it felt damn good to once again be known throughout this world as a hero. Misha thought so and that smiling biking Goan thought so too...coconut.
Went on a road trip to a small town named Chandor. It took 3 hours and I got a ticket for not wearing a helmet. I guess India does have laws. In my defense, one must wear a helmet only on highways in Goa it seems, and I don't have a helmet. Of course the officer started mentioning something of some other charge for not having an "international license"...hmmm what's that sir?...you say Rs 100 for not wearing the helmet and how much?...seriously why are you mumbling?... how many rupees?... Rs 2000!?!?!?....what sir?... me give you Rs 500 and you'll let it slide...oh so very kind. India doesn't require an "international license". That cop got a blackmailed pay raise. But, I breath better knowing that India in the end really doesn't seem to have any laws (joking, I don't want to curse myself). Moving passed this unfortunate case of power abuse, Chandor was hot-humid but crazily awesome. Misha picked this place because there are two ageing mansions that the owners love to give tours of. These once proud homes were owned by the wealthy Braganza and Fernandes families (very Indian sounding, give me a second), but now stand as a shells to a once rich past (pictures later). Lengthy descriptions aside, Misha and I thought that thinking of Dicken's, Great Expectations, or Billy Wilder's, Sunset Blvd, should put you so near what needs to be seen.
Quickly why the names above. Goa was and still holds a great deal of Portuguese influences, namely the architecture is something like Spanish Villa's with neon-pastel paint schemes with those red tile roofs, oh, and crosses...crosses everywhere. Goa is distinctly Christian, cows on the menu. Read about it if you want more.
So life is great. We've booked tickets to Kerala (farther south) in two days time and look forward to seeing it all, or seeing some of it. There's more to tell of Goa, and don't worry you'll hear it, but it's 9 pm and dinner is calling then the party, because it's a paradise out there and who doesn't want to party the night away on a beach with moon's shadowed palms.
-sam
Sunday, March 8, 2009
End Our Desert Days
After 3 days and 2 nights in the depths of the rough and tumble world of the Thar Desert, we thought a shower and some nice food would do the trick to reassimilate to the metropolitan culture of Jaisalmer. I may be the first to refer to the place as metropolitan but it's got a huge fort and plenty of places to relax in and well anything is metropolitan to the desert.
The camel safari was nice, 'cept for the lower body pain endured. We rode through small villages within 30km of Jaisalmer and out to some nice sand dunes near enough to the Pakistani border to see it. The wildlife was scarce but the stock animals were not; that is plenty of cows, goats, sheep, and camels. While running the camels in the early morning of the 3rd day, we spotted some gazelle running anf jumping. Sadly, no tigers, though most tiger preservation NGO's admit that there quite possibly aren't tigers in Rajasthan anymore so we weren't expecting any miracles.
At 3pm of March 7th we caught the night bus to Udaipur. Due to last minute planning we hadn't the option to get a sleeper, so we were stuck sitting upright on the bumpy road to Udaipur from Jaisalmer for 14 hrs. It wasn't the worst experience of our lives and we managed to get some sleep amid the always chaotic bus aisles of India.
Udaipur, the City of the Lakes, is pure beauty. Nestled within the rising southern desert hills of Rajasthan, it's lakes relfect the regality of an empire lost centuries ago. Palaces, built by eager Maharajas rich from trade, line the lapping but often stagnant water collected from the monsoon season. The City Palace, still the residence of the current Maharaja, is the largest in Rajasthan - it's walls reaching 244 m. Inside is a museum dedicated to the plentiful tigers and leopards hunted, wars won, and mighty Maharajas of the south that bravely stemmed Mughal control. The city is brimming with charm and perfect for sunset.
Sitting atop a nearby peak is the Monsoon Palace. The palace was built as a retreat during the highwaters of the monsoon season and often used by Maharajas to relax in and hunt big cats along the countryside. Today it is widely used by tourists and locals alike to soak up a sunset that rivals any other.
Because time is short and there are places we desire to see more of, today, we take our leave of Udaipur. Yes, a short 1.5 days, but it is required. Making our decision even harder is, Holi, the Hindu holiday that has paint and dye thrown on everything and everyone. Udaipur promises to be a perfect place for the celebration, alas it is not to be. It should be mentioned that children in Jaisalmer jumper the gun a couple of days and squirted dye on us before we left for Udaipur so we can say we did participate a bit.
At 3pm we catch the bus to Mumbai, where we'll hit up Bollywood and skip town as soon as possible to find those beaches in magical Goa...
-sam
The camel safari was nice, 'cept for the lower body pain endured. We rode through small villages within 30km of Jaisalmer and out to some nice sand dunes near enough to the Pakistani border to see it. The wildlife was scarce but the stock animals were not; that is plenty of cows, goats, sheep, and camels. While running the camels in the early morning of the 3rd day, we spotted some gazelle running anf jumping. Sadly, no tigers, though most tiger preservation NGO's admit that there quite possibly aren't tigers in Rajasthan anymore so we weren't expecting any miracles.
At 3pm of March 7th we caught the night bus to Udaipur. Due to last minute planning we hadn't the option to get a sleeper, so we were stuck sitting upright on the bumpy road to Udaipur from Jaisalmer for 14 hrs. It wasn't the worst experience of our lives and we managed to get some sleep amid the always chaotic bus aisles of India.
Udaipur, the City of the Lakes, is pure beauty. Nestled within the rising southern desert hills of Rajasthan, it's lakes relfect the regality of an empire lost centuries ago. Palaces, built by eager Maharajas rich from trade, line the lapping but often stagnant water collected from the monsoon season. The City Palace, still the residence of the current Maharaja, is the largest in Rajasthan - it's walls reaching 244 m. Inside is a museum dedicated to the plentiful tigers and leopards hunted, wars won, and mighty Maharajas of the south that bravely stemmed Mughal control. The city is brimming with charm and perfect for sunset.
Sitting atop a nearby peak is the Monsoon Palace. The palace was built as a retreat during the highwaters of the monsoon season and often used by Maharajas to relax in and hunt big cats along the countryside. Today it is widely used by tourists and locals alike to soak up a sunset that rivals any other.
Because time is short and there are places we desire to see more of, today, we take our leave of Udaipur. Yes, a short 1.5 days, but it is required. Making our decision even harder is, Holi, the Hindu holiday that has paint and dye thrown on everything and everyone. Udaipur promises to be a perfect place for the celebration, alas it is not to be. It should be mentioned that children in Jaisalmer jumper the gun a couple of days and squirted dye on us before we left for Udaipur so we can say we did participate a bit.
At 3pm we catch the bus to Mumbai, where we'll hit up Bollywood and skip town as soon as possible to find those beaches in magical Goa...
-sam
Friday, March 6, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Lengthy Delays in Pushkar
When you're on the road fellow travelers that have gone the circuit or just know a little bit more than you promise you that you will find a place that will capture your heart and mind. Pushkar didn't make the initial cut for us in the planning stages of the trip, but enough people were puzzled by our inherent lack of interest in it that we agreed upon a short two day detour. Of course that was six days ago and only today have we booked the sleeper bus to Jaiselmar (leaving at 10pm, 11hr trip). Mind you this quiet holy place busy with temples, cows, and a lake that Lonely Planet says "is magnetic" though the pond is lackluster for being the holder of Ghandi's ashes...holy none-the-less...I suppose, doesn't offer much beyond rest and a surprisingly low amount of hassle. Yes, in a country of 1.3 billion people, Pushkar sets itself aside as an oasis of relative quiet. That doesn't stop the impromptu all night prayer sessions or brilliant displays of wedding processions or dogs that cannot stop fighting or coughers that can't stop coughing, but hey it's an oasis of calm. To be honest Misha and I didn't stay here 6 days because we loved it, though we certainly enjoyed Pushkar. We stayed the fifth day to let Misha's plague die down then we stayed the sixth day to let me enjoy my first bout of food poisoning! That's right I'm now official. I can't tell you what did it for sure but I'd venture to say the kidney beans in that Dal I had the other night did the trick, seeing as they kept visiting me yesterday. TIP: It is recommended to eat at smaller guest houses, because it is common for larger establishments to pre-cook their food in anticipation of larger audiences. Lesson learned? We'll see. Seriously puking is all part of the adventure.
When we first arrived in Pushkar we stayed at the Seventh Sea. It's a little off the main bazaar and nothing special. It was nice but after two days we decided to cut our budget of Rs 150 to Rs 100 a night. The place we ended up was fantastic and by far the greatest guest house I have ever stayed at. The Milk Man.
The story goes that the father of this family run guest house, started off as Pushkar's hardworking milk man. Due to some illness the doctor told him he should no longer put in the time as a milk man. So he opened a guest house with a name not too familiar to the guest house scene but one quite familiar to him.
The place is filled to the brim with colorful walls, lush plant life, and brilliant Pushkarian paintings. The rooftop is grass with hammocks swinging from rafters and beds lying in umbrella'd shadow. Paradise. The restaurant was great. Try the Paneer Pasanda!
Misha told you of the motorcycling.
Illnesses aside, the lengthened stay in Pushkar was nothing regrettable. We are looking forward to greater adventures and are that much more prepared after lengthy rests all around. I bought a custom wool pullover in anticipation for a 3-4 day camel safari out of Jaiselmar where the desert nights guarantee (yes, once again I needed to spell check guarantee) chills. It was 8 dollars...
It's easiest to conclude with sunset.
-sam
ps. everyone gets delayed in Pushkar
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