Curry Jar-Jar Mind Junk: All aboard the Jungle Express
For the past few years I have asked my family not to buy me chocolate eggs for Easter because of the gross excessive packaging that accompanies them (that being said I am aware Cadbury’s Creme Eggs only come in foil: Hint! Hint!) but this year I craved chocolate like never before. Trying to rationalise my foaming at the mouth for nearly the whole day; it was because I knew that I was not going to receive one at all and I did not have the option to sneak out and buy one for myself (how sad a spectacle that would have been!). So this year I had an anti-Easter and as a result I was incredibly downbeat. No Sunday newspapers to peruse. No fry-up. No guilt-watching Songs of Praise. No family round for lunch and then a country ramble to Sotterley. To be but brief the absence of chocolate triggered the pang of homesickness. All was remedied by the evening however after I received a call from home and was asked whether I had received an Easter package….fingers crossed it’s chocolatey!
As y’all may recall I have just returned from a brief two-week tour of the Western Ghats and parts of Karnataka with the merry band of other volunteers. Actually to refer to them (Alpa, Sunita, Bradley, Ellie and Helena) as just other volunteers sounds incredibly impersonal as I would now consider all of them to be my friends. All in all I had an awesome time discovering Bangalore, Madikeri, Mysore and Ooty before returning to a soaking wet Chennai.
No sooner had we left Kanchipuram could Bradley be heard wincing as he reached into his rucksack to retrieve his book. The silly boy had not learnt the golden rule of always ensuring that toiletries are wrapped in some sort of bag to prevent leakages. He had opted for Sunsilk’s Black Shine and- guess what- yep; the shampoo was actually black hence all of his books, ipod and other clutter were smothered in what looked like crude oil. It was not a pretty site but smelt good though!
There is one thing I have definitely learnt about Indian railway; never opt for a seat downwind of the toilet. Having caught the sleeper train at 11:30pm we hurried to our seats amidst the frantic chaos of people bustling to clamber aboard. It was all rather exciting as I had never been on an Indian train before and was astonished to discover how decent each carriage was (considering we opted for the lowest class available) and just how tremendous its capacity for passengers were (we counted at least 20 carriages). Within each carriage there were approximately six bays of eight beds (three high) that were folded away during the light hours of travelling. And at the end of each carriage were three toilets. Granted they were little more than holes but still, decent enough.
Once the train had begun to rumble along the track we soon folded and climbed onto our beds to sleep. But could we? No- because it was too ruddy freezing! We had not anticipated just how cold it would be to travel at night aboard a train with three ceiling fans to each bay that could not be switched off. I swear my nose at one point turned blue! I don’t think I have ever been so appreciative of a pair of socks I had packed to deter mosquitoes from savaging my feet.
We arrived into Bangalore at an ungodly 5am and immediately set about securing lodgings for our three day stay. Bradley was the hero of the hour as he found us a local “hotel” that would put us up for a mere pittance. It was quite a quirky little establishment that was reminiscent of a French colonial house with its French window doors that opened onto a white veranda. Although it looked out over a building site (and alas, no builders to ogle) and was adjacent to a main road; it was a gem of a find.
Having dumped all of our stuff at the hotel and successfully defrosting ourselves we endeavoured to scour the streets for breakfast. Reluctant to eat in “Western” eateries (mostly because they are overpriced and the food is usually not very good) we discovered Biba’s Garden whereby I had the most delicious Masala Dhosa ever! Bar none! And at only 15 rupees! I could hardly contain myself.
For our first day in Bangalore we thought to join the locals in whatever they do at weekends and so, we went to the Turf Club for Saturday afternoon horse racing. With a guide in one hand and a plate of papaya in t’other I recalled the one time that I went to the dogs at Great Yarmouth and how to pick a winner by judging their recent performances etc. Helena and I placed a joint bet for race number two- and won! Wahoo. Even though we only won seven rupees respectively; we were hooked and had great fun picking out winners (and losers) for the duration of the afternoon. I cunningly employed the expertise of a local. Well actually, I had little choice as he was sitting next to us and could not resist feeding us titbits of “insider” information about which horse was likely to win.
As an Indian city, I though Bangalore was quite impressive. The streets were wide, clean and bordered with lush trees. The traffic was ordered. There were city parks and museums aplenty. There were even bars and chained restaurants. Yet there was something that just did not sit right with me. For a few days I could not place my finger on what exactly made me feel uncomfortable about the city; until it came to me: Bangalore felt soulless. So desperate to be on a par with big Western cities, it is as if during the IT boom of the 1980s that propelled Bangalore to its current prominence, urban planners concluded that if one chucks up fancy modern buildings with neon lighting and allows franchises of companies like McDonalds and Levis; that the mindset and culture of the Western world will follow suit. It does not. Too many aspects of the city centre culture looked and felt fake: Bangalore was out of context with the rest of the country. At times it felt like I was in Tokyo, but one was starkly reminded every now and then that it was indeed India by the fact that bars still closed at 11pm and served perhaps only two kinds of liquor, and after dark all the women disappeared from the streets.
Don’t get me wrong- there were places that I did enjoy, like Peccos (because it was a tiny candlelit enclave of rebellious souls listening to Jefferson Airplane and supping Kingfisher beer) but overall I did not warm to Bangalore. Moreover the cost of everything downtown was almost tripled! The cheek! In one night I spent the same amount of money on alcohol (I only bought three!) as I did on three nights accommodation! That taught me a lesson and so now I am going back to being tee total.
When we got back to our hotel at midnight we were dismayed to find that the reception desk was vacant. Where was everybody? How were we to get into our rooms? Our minds soon ran away with our imaginations as we begun to marshal up the most ridiculous scenarios of how we would break into our rooms. During this banter Ellie popped her head round the desk and I helped her to pilfer our key from the (open!!!) cupboard. What great reassuring security.
The next morning we decided to do a spot of sight-seeing and so ventured to Cubbon Park. More than four hours later and after losing about three pounds of weight (due to excessive perspiration) we found the beautifully grand Secretariat building proud in the sweltering midday heat and towering over the surrounding landscape and then the city’s art gallery. Because it had taken us forever to find the ruddy gallery (none of us could read a map) we were none too fussed when we got to see the exhibitions. We just wanted to conk out in the park amidst the clumps of bamboo and watch the impromptu cricket match being played by park workers during their lunch break. I did discover however; that I dislike Kangra artists and have a fondness for Bhikaner paintings (don’t ask what that means because right now I cannot remember!)
Oh my goodness I nearly forgot to impart our collective highlight from our time in Bangalore- we managed to get tickets to see Serena Williams play Patty Schnyder in the Bangalore Open 2008 Final! Earlier in the day when we had been trawling our asses through Cubbon Park we saw banners advertising a tennis tournament. Curious- we wandered over and were shocked to discern that Serena had knocked out her sister during the semi-finals and was playing that very evening. We grabbed the opportunity to buy last minute tickets and really enjoyed watching what turned into a fantastic match. Of course Serena won.
Having watched over five hours of tennis in one sitting (there was also a doubles final but I ashamedly cannot remember either of the pair’s names) we had become quite jaded and so lazily crawled out of bed quite late the next day. Hopping onto a random bus after scoffing (yet another amazing) masala dhosa from Biba’s Garden we arrived at Bangalore’s city market. What a mistake that was! The only way I can attempt to describe my time there is to try and get you to imagine being placed in shopping purgatory; where there is no escape from the heat, the never-ending tunnel and myriad of shops ablaze with gleaming jewellery that almost make your eyes water, the chorus screech of street sellers, and the bombardment of your weakening, sweaty body as people barge past you; desperate to get the best deal.
So overwhelmed and desiccated we crashed out in the gardens of a nearby hospital- because we thought it was the most appropriate place; just in case, ha!
For the rest of our time in Bangalore we mostly ate, tried to visit a driving range at the city’s Golf Course (but were kindly and curtly informed that one needed to be a member at a price of over $800 a month), and mostly walked about the city (much to the amusement of auto rickshaw drivers). In fact on our last evening we walked across the entire breadth of Bangalore to reach our hotel because we had missed the last bus and were too tight to fork out for a rip-off auto fare. Typical Brit backpackers. It took us about 40 minutes and all the way we received stares from car passengers sailing by for Indians really cannot understand the concept of walking anywhere if you have the option to travel by more comfortable means. I hastened to add that none of them stopped to offer a ride though!
The next morning Helena, Ellie, Alpa and I left Bradley and Sunita in Bangalore to head for Madikeri. I have yet to get my act together and write up my shenanigans from that portion of our trip (sorry! I have been ill recently) and so will lock myself away for the next few days to do so. Until then, poyittu varukiren