Srimongol sounded great - tea plantations, coolness and peace. It definitely wasn't cooler, but it was pretty. We were scooped up straight away by Khaled, a pint-sized, cowboy-hat-toting camp little fellow with an endearing stammer. Khaled runs a tour company which once owned a map, but lost it. We were allowed an afternoon on our own once we'd promised to spend the following day being shown around by him.
We went off on pedal bikes in search of the world-famous seven layer tea - I read about it in a tea magazine in Nottingham, no less - it's a top-secret family recipe only to be supped in Srimongol. It was delicious - each layer had a different taste, from ginger to lemon to extreme syrupy goo. Rejuvinated, we cycled through rice fields to be greeted by shy women and a mob of children, who shoved goats into our arms and chased us down the fields as we departed.
The next morning we set off with K-k-k-khaled in a rickshaw. Our first stop was a rainforest where pungent gibbons swung from trees and terrifying spiders the size of my hand strung webs across the path. We drove through lemon, pineapple and tea gardens and visited a picturesque lake full of l-l-l-lotus flowers. It was lovely but all too much for three weaklings from blustery grey isles - we were collapsed in our beds with chronic heat exhaustion by 4pm. Yikes.
Leaving Srimongol was pretty funny. We sat on the train platform with our bags to wait, and were soon surrounded by a circle of gawping faces, a crowd three deep. They just didn't know what to make of us. It would have been fine if the crowd hadn't been slowly increasing the temperature to about 50 degrees, but thankfully the station manager rescued us. He plonked us in his office behind his board of nonsensical flashing lights, sneered at our third-class tickets then made sure we were upgraded to a nice private carriage on the train. That barely stemmed the stares - cheeky little faces kept peeping through the millimetre of gap in the door, while some sneaksters just hauled it back to take pictures of us. There are a lot of sweaty mobile phone photos of us floating around Bangladesh now, that's for sure. So this is what it's like to be famous...
Friday, 16 April 2010
Bangles
Kolkata turned out to be my favourite big Indian city. It's green and higgledy-piggledy, full of beautiful buildings and smiling people. We spent an afternoon walking up the Hooghly, gobbling ice cream cones before they melted then wandering around the botanical gardens. The gardens are shady and free of traffic, and the world's biggest banyan tree is there: it's so big that all its wiggly trunks have separated to become its own little forest.
Sweaty and starving, we stumbled upon the mouldering staff canteen, begging for sustenance. The kind staff obliged: the four of us managed to eat lunch for a grand total of 32 rupees (50p) - egg, curry, bread and tea. Fit for a king.
Leaving India on the Maitree Express was a lovely experience. The Maitree is a shiny new train with private cabins, padded bed-seats and a constant supply of food (Indian or Bangla, depending which side of the border you happen to be on). We had to get off and wait around for a couple of hours on both sides of the border, which was long but entertaining.
Once we got moving through Bangladesh the scenery was stunning, all juicy green fields and glassy rivers with tiny brown heads popping out.
The peace ended at Dhaka, another big smelly city. Here, we were completely engulfed in the love of the Bangladeshis; the concrete chaos didn't seem too much of a drag when the people were so wonderful. Everywhere we walked there was a little ripple of smiles, squeaks of "How are you!" and people rushing over for a chat. Banglas are so sweet and friendly and silly that the constant stares and questions aren't annoying. They also seem to love having their picture taken, which is fine by me.
The best bits of Dhaka were in the little lanes of the old town, all fragrant markets, grand mosques, decorated rickshaws and colourful bazaars. We walked down to the bustling riverside ghat to see the boats and the Pink Palace, and found ourselves in a frantic melon market. Ruddy enormous melons!
The food in Bangladesh is a bit tricky for a non-meat eater; the restaurants we go to don't have menus or much English so we mainly have to pick mutton, chicken or fish and see what arrives.
After a few days we were more than ready to leave the city. Abi and Chris left for Chittagong to visit Abi's childhood lands, while we met up with Hollie and got on a train to Srimongol.
Sweaty and starving, we stumbled upon the mouldering staff canteen, begging for sustenance. The kind staff obliged: the four of us managed to eat lunch for a grand total of 32 rupees (50p) - egg, curry, bread and tea. Fit for a king.
Leaving India on the Maitree Express was a lovely experience. The Maitree is a shiny new train with private cabins, padded bed-seats and a constant supply of food (Indian or Bangla, depending which side of the border you happen to be on). We had to get off and wait around for a couple of hours on both sides of the border, which was long but entertaining.
Once we got moving through Bangladesh the scenery was stunning, all juicy green fields and glassy rivers with tiny brown heads popping out.
The peace ended at Dhaka, another big smelly city. Here, we were completely engulfed in the love of the Bangladeshis; the concrete chaos didn't seem too much of a drag when the people were so wonderful. Everywhere we walked there was a little ripple of smiles, squeaks of "How are you!" and people rushing over for a chat. Banglas are so sweet and friendly and silly that the constant stares and questions aren't annoying. They also seem to love having their picture taken, which is fine by me.
The best bits of Dhaka were in the little lanes of the old town, all fragrant markets, grand mosques, decorated rickshaws and colourful bazaars. We walked down to the bustling riverside ghat to see the boats and the Pink Palace, and found ourselves in a frantic melon market. Ruddy enormous melons!
The food in Bangladesh is a bit tricky for a non-meat eater; the restaurants we go to don't have menus or much English so we mainly have to pick mutton, chicken or fish and see what arrives.
After a few days we were more than ready to leave the city. Abi and Chris left for Chittagong to visit Abi's childhood lands, while we met up with Hollie and got on a train to Srimongol.
Sunday, 28 March 2010
Crumbling Kolkata
We crossed the border from Nepal to India by pony and trap, and had the pleasure of staying the night in a grotty hole called Raxaul. This place is like hell. Foggy, dusty, sleazy disapproving men everywhere and chickens being slaughtered at the side of the road. We couldn’t get on the train to Kolkata fast enough.
I was right about the heat. Koltaka is like a sauna, muggy and damp even when the sun isn’t out. Finding a hotel room has been a pain – for some reason we thought we could do better than the nice, clean air conditioned one we booked – we wanted something cheaper and more central and moved into one with rotting walls, a leaking air conditioner and snooty staff. We moved back quickly to the nice place.
All of Kolkata is rotting with damp. It looks cool on the crumbling colonial buildings with trees growing out of their sides, but not next to your pillow. It’s like nature is taking over and there’s nothing the city can do about it. Once we’d settled, we actually got to explore the city and found it quite lovely. The architecture is wicked and the people are friendly once you get away from Shudder Street.
Everywhere you turn you might trip over a bony man with a wise old face, squatting on the floor mending shoes or chopping cucumbers. Either that, or a group of skinny boys shooting heroin in the gutter. But with the honky yellow taxis and grand old buildings, there’s lots to like about it.
Having said that, after a nasty incident with a cockroach and some inedible food, on Friday night we retreated to a cold, clean shopping mall to watch Alice in Wonderland and eat Subway among the cute well-dressed Kolkatans out on dates or family trips. We felt a bit scruffy but relieved to not be reduced to sweating rag-dolls on the floor every ten minutes.
So today Abi and Chris are arriving for a three week holiday, from here to Bangladesh and back again.
I was right about the heat. Koltaka is like a sauna, muggy and damp even when the sun isn’t out. Finding a hotel room has been a pain – for some reason we thought we could do better than the nice, clean air conditioned one we booked – we wanted something cheaper and more central and moved into one with rotting walls, a leaking air conditioner and snooty staff. We moved back quickly to the nice place.
All of Kolkata is rotting with damp. It looks cool on the crumbling colonial buildings with trees growing out of their sides, but not next to your pillow. It’s like nature is taking over and there’s nothing the city can do about it. Once we’d settled, we actually got to explore the city and found it quite lovely. The architecture is wicked and the people are friendly once you get away from Shudder Street.
Everywhere you turn you might trip over a bony man with a wise old face, squatting on the floor mending shoes or chopping cucumbers. Either that, or a group of skinny boys shooting heroin in the gutter. But with the honky yellow taxis and grand old buildings, there’s lots to like about it.
Having said that, after a nasty incident with a cockroach and some inedible food, on Friday night we retreated to a cold, clean shopping mall to watch Alice in Wonderland and eat Subway among the cute well-dressed Kolkatans out on dates or family trips. We felt a bit scruffy but relieved to not be reduced to sweating rag-dolls on the floor every ten minutes.
So today Abi and Chris are arriving for a three week holiday, from here to Bangladesh and back again.
Sunday, 21 March 2010
Last days of Nepal
We're still in Kathmandu and have been enjoying it tremendously. A lot of people we've met along the way have been here at the same time so we've had lots of fun and spent too much money, but it has been Joe's birthday week after all. After a nice day in the Garden of Dreams, a haven of prettiness among the stink of the city, we ended his birthday at a casino in the early hours. It was a shifty strange place but we didn't lose much money and tucked into a big and tasty free buffet at 2am, so mustn't grumble! Even the booze was free.
The former prime minister died this weekend and we've just been watching his open cremation live on TV. Seems like people really liked him, a lot of men have shaved their heads in mourning. His ashes are going into the sacred "river", which is the truly the most disgusting river I've ever seen - a chasm filled with rotting rubbish and sniffling pigs with a trickle of black sewage running through it. If I could record the smell I'd bring it back as evidence...shudder.
So we're heading back to India in two days. I'll miss Nepal - we've seen a lot and the people are totally lovely. But I'm looking forward to more varied food and - oh yeah, ridiculous heat...
The former prime minister died this weekend and we've just been watching his open cremation live on TV. Seems like people really liked him, a lot of men have shaved their heads in mourning. His ashes are going into the sacred "river", which is the truly the most disgusting river I've ever seen - a chasm filled with rotting rubbish and sniffling pigs with a trickle of black sewage running through it. If I could record the smell I'd bring it back as evidence...shudder.
So we're heading back to India in two days. I'll miss Nepal - we've seen a lot and the people are totally lovely. But I'm looking forward to more varied food and - oh yeah, ridiculous heat...
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Treks and the city
Over the last week or so we've gone from teeny mountain villages to the jungle to the chaotic backstreets of Kathmandu. We were all over the place in Pokhara, climbing to the World Peace Pagoda via lostness and biting ants, cycling around the old town and embarking on a three-day trek in the hills for gawping views of the snowy Anapurna mountain range. The trek was hot but very pretty - the only downside was on the last night, discovering we were staying in a hotel run by children. That felt a bit wrong. We taught our waiter to play Snap after dinner - he was ever so excited. Watching the sun rise all gold and glowing over the snowy peaks was pretty cool, though.
After relaxing back in Pokhara we headed to Chitwan National Park to get cosy with some wildlife. The jungle is green and steamy and tigers live there. We saw their very pawprints. We got up early the first day for a canoe trip down the misty river, spotting all sorts of fancy birds like maribou stork, kingfishers and love-birds, and a couple of crocodiles. We got out to walk in the park. This was a bit scary as our guide started by explaining what to do if any animals decided to attack us. For rhinos, climb the nearest tree. For sloth bears, get in a group and shout and clap. For tigers, make eye contact and back away. I was eyeing every tree, figuring out how I'd climb it, but I needn't have worried. Everyone else saw a rhino, I did not.
The next day we rode elephants through the jungle. Like the camels, this isn't something I ever thought I would want to do, but it's a safe and silent way to see animals, aside from just being a lush way to see the park. Elephants are everywhere in Chitwan - they plod past as you're eating breakfast, and you can jump on their backs while they're being bathed in the river by their mahouts. Anyway this time I saw the rhinos - a little crew of them chilling out in a pond.
It was time to leave the peacefulness behind and brave a big city again. Kathmandu is total hippie-land - the traveller bubble is rammed full of shops selling hideous cyber-crusty wear and tiger balm. Once you escape this though it's brilliant - tiny paved streets teeming with people and things. There are big pigeon-poo splattered temples, grubby little shrines and intricately carved courtyards on every corner. There's a dark side as well - street kids inhaling solvents and shifty-looking men everywhere. And we saw a dismembered cow-hoof discarded at the side of the road.
After relaxing back in Pokhara we headed to Chitwan National Park to get cosy with some wildlife. The jungle is green and steamy and tigers live there. We saw their very pawprints. We got up early the first day for a canoe trip down the misty river, spotting all sorts of fancy birds like maribou stork, kingfishers and love-birds, and a couple of crocodiles. We got out to walk in the park. This was a bit scary as our guide started by explaining what to do if any animals decided to attack us. For rhinos, climb the nearest tree. For sloth bears, get in a group and shout and clap. For tigers, make eye contact and back away. I was eyeing every tree, figuring out how I'd climb it, but I needn't have worried. Everyone else saw a rhino, I did not.
The next day we rode elephants through the jungle. Like the camels, this isn't something I ever thought I would want to do, but it's a safe and silent way to see animals, aside from just being a lush way to see the park. Elephants are everywhere in Chitwan - they plod past as you're eating breakfast, and you can jump on their backs while they're being bathed in the river by their mahouts. Anyway this time I saw the rhinos - a little crew of them chilling out in a pond.
It was time to leave the peacefulness behind and brave a big city again. Kathmandu is total hippie-land - the traveller bubble is rammed full of shops selling hideous cyber-crusty wear and tiger balm. Once you escape this though it's brilliant - tiny paved streets teeming with people and things. There are big pigeon-poo splattered temples, grubby little shrines and intricately carved courtyards on every corner. There's a dark side as well - street kids inhaling solvents and shifty-looking men everywhere. And we saw a dismembered cow-hoof discarded at the side of the road.
Thursday, 4 March 2010
Buddhas, balloons and bumps
We fell off the edge of India and landed in Lumbini, the perfect antidote. Lumbini is a village just across the border in Nepal where actual Buddha was born. On one side of the village there are green fields dotted with yellow mustard plants, to the other is the Buddhist Development Zone. Most importantly, it is quiet! The roads are nearly empty and people just float around on bikes. We spent the first day there recovering and it was a good day for it - Holi hit.
Hindus (and everyone around them) celebrate Holi by dancing in the street and dousing each other with brightly-coloured water. We woke up to the hotel's host family giggling in the courtyard below and throwing neon water balloons, and watched the madness from the balcony throughout the day. Well, that's moderate madness, Nepal-style, all scrubbed and tucked up in bed by 8pm.
The next day we hired rickety, rusty bikes and explored the temples and monasteries. All countries of Asia are represented in Lumbini with a sparkling monastery in their own style.
Our next stop was Pokhara, a "deluxe" bus trip across the mountains. The bus was typically shabby and there was a goat in the boot. I really felt for the goat - I felt like a human milkshake by the end, after eight hours rattling around with no proper stops. The poor goat got out halfway, at a butcher's shop.
Pokhara is nice. There's a lake and there are mountains, and there are momos to eat. I think we'll stay here a while...
Hindus (and everyone around them) celebrate Holi by dancing in the street and dousing each other with brightly-coloured water. We woke up to the hotel's host family giggling in the courtyard below and throwing neon water balloons, and watched the madness from the balcony throughout the day. Well, that's moderate madness, Nepal-style, all scrubbed and tucked up in bed by 8pm.
The next day we hired rickety, rusty bikes and explored the temples and monasteries. All countries of Asia are represented in Lumbini with a sparkling monastery in their own style.
Our next stop was Pokhara, a "deluxe" bus trip across the mountains. The bus was typically shabby and there was a goat in the boot. I really felt for the goat - I felt like a human milkshake by the end, after eight hours rattling around with no proper stops. The poor goat got out halfway, at a butcher's shop.
Pokhara is nice. There's a lake and there are mountains, and there are momos to eat. I think we'll stay here a while...
Exit India
We started the journey up to Nepal with a brief stop in Agra. Not to see the Taj Mahal, which we've seen before, but just to rest. It was worth it for some good south Indian food and a visit to Fatahpur Sikri, an ancient Mughal city which is now ruins, a gigantic mosque and some stunning old palaces. We spent the afternoon wandering around there, then waited for the bus back to Agra, which never turned up. We squeezed into a jeep with eight other foreigners, feeling a bit tricked and missing the sunset over the Taj. Never mind.
The missing bus turned out to be the beginning of a theme. Or train from Agra to Lucknow was delayed by two hours, so we were frantic we would miss our connection to the border town, Gorakhpur. We shouldn't have worried - that train was delayed by two, then three, then five-ish hours. The whole of India was journeying home for Holi festival. Trains were pulling out of the station with three-deep men hanging out of the door. They're braver than me, but they probably just wanted to escape the station, which was more like a zoo. There were rats fighting in the tracks, scruffy monkeys foraging for banana skins, all kinds of human and cows lumbering down the platform. And the accompanying smells.
Just in time, before we ran screaming to the nearest airport, our train rocked up and we were soon settled in our nice air-con carriage with a delicious dinner, ice cream and a friendly soldier. Phew.
The missing bus turned out to be the beginning of a theme. Or train from Agra to Lucknow was delayed by two hours, so we were frantic we would miss our connection to the border town, Gorakhpur. We shouldn't have worried - that train was delayed by two, then three, then five-ish hours. The whole of India was journeying home for Holi festival. Trains were pulling out of the station with three-deep men hanging out of the door. They're braver than me, but they probably just wanted to escape the station, which was more like a zoo. There were rats fighting in the tracks, scruffy monkeys foraging for banana skins, all kinds of human and cows lumbering down the platform. And the accompanying smells.
Just in time, before we ran screaming to the nearest airport, our train rocked up and we were soon settled in our nice air-con carriage with a delicious dinner, ice cream and a friendly soldier. Phew.
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