New Years and India - Part 1

INDIA - Brothels and Cockroaches

So in between New Years and the events i'm about to describe not much had taken place. After the 30 + hours of staying awake, the Gangnam style dance routine and the heavy celebration that followed my body had fallen from grace and crumbled.

This resulted in me violently chunder dragoning at work straight outside a senior managers meeting with you guessed it, all my senior managers. Regardless I'm sure this served as a beautiful soundtrack to this otherwise unmemorable event. Anyway this left me bed bound for a few days with the strength of a child, and when i did recover i and a few of the other interns went paint balling with some fellow staff from work. KL jungle style

Preperation

Moving on..

Many months ago myself and Brad were spending the day at another construction site for the day to see some substructure work, it was nearing the end of the day and all the interns were snak'ing in the office waiting for the clock to hit 5. (Did i mention we work Saturdays? Motivation is particularly low on that day).

As it was i spent the afternoon perusing AirAsia for cheap flights, acutely aware that we had some months with absolutely no holiday plans: a truly abhorrent thought. Since i am probably unable to work 24 days in 4 weeks without taking a severe holiday my search far and wide over the plains of airasia.com left me with one diamond in the rough. One absolute steal that only a fool with pass it up.

India.

None of us thought we would be hitting it this year. Elusively out of reach it wasn't on my radar at all which made it all the more inviting.

Return flights for only £80, i slapped 2 destinations into the online form and googled them to check the distance in between (about 550km). This, we deemed was doable and less than 24 hours alter they were booked. That was the sole amount of planning that we undertook for the next 3 months, with no idea how we were going to get around the country or why the hell we were going. Fortunately nearing the 11th hour Keith spent some Ular time getting a concise plan together, and we were prepared.

Getting Visas were an absolute ball ache as long story short the day before we went to pay for our visas (after our application had been accepted and we had a printed receipt of the cost) they decided to up it £100. Long story short me and Brad ended up complaining to the Visa Center who agreed with us and differed us to  the Indian High Commission.

Once there I almost lost it with some useless cow at the front desk, proceeded to get through to the (or one) of the High Commission officers who danced around my questions like a fucking Morris dancer until i backed him into a corner and the slimy bastard just hung up on me.

We then journeyed to the British high Commission, blagged our way through the security barriers and appealed to them. They agreed and spent about 40 minutes calling various Indian delegates and unfortunately got nowhere, but apparently pissing them off in the process so all was not lost.

Being pissed with every Indian you've met bar one in the week before you leave for the country does not set a good trend for the holiday. However, people in those kinds of jobs tend to turn out to be pricks, so we tried to push it away and go with an open mind.

If anyone from the Indian High Commission is reading this - An intoxicated, poorly-trained chimp could offer better customer service. They might even crack a smile as well.

So... The actual Holiday

We shipped out on the 26th of Jan, braving the industrial air conditioning and a plane full to the brim with coughing and sneezing passengers we arrived in Bangalore after a 4 hour flight.

View A year in South East Asia in a larger map

I'm going to try and breeze over Bangalore as much ads possible. I'm sure that there are redeeming aspects to the city that we missed in their entirety, cultural and historical areas oif importance that we were wholly ignorant to. All this and more could be true.

However, all that i saw of Bangalore was a labyrinth of death inducing roads, made black by the night and terrifying by the driving of the local inhabitants. I was soon to realize that Indian roads were a spectacle in the macabre, a polluted hell whole of traffic in which you had to attempt to operate like a human being. 

We did not stay in Bangalore very long and our search for our sustenance turned out to be fruitless as we ate Mediterranean food for our first meal in India, In a refuge called the courtyard, which lay dormant without power for the majority of our stay we supped on cheap wine and reasonable pizza, conscious of the fact that the trip was not currently going to plan. Our first meal in India was a pseudo-Italian mess.

We had tried, in our defense to find an authentic Indian restaurant. Upon dropping our bags at our hotel (more on this hole later) and leaving the front door we were immediately confronted with what seemed a genuine, and tasteful restaurant come bar. Encouraged by the flashing AC sign, we entered, all the while exchanging uneasy glances and handshakes with the security guard at the door. We were soon accosted down a corridor and onto a room on the right. 

The door was opened for us and immediately we were confronted with a wall of sound besieging us from every corner. We sat down, half stunned and regaining composure and were handed the menus. It was at this point that something caught my eye, i glanced up to find a line, ney a harem of women in front of me, backs against the wall all with broad, sensual smiles aimed directly at our pale white skin. They gave us the eye, and it was apparent that we had just unknowingly barged headlong into our first Indian Brothel.

Escape. 

Unable to communicate to the aforementioned pounding techno in our eyes, we exchanged worried glances. From the face of Keith i thought i caught a glimpse of a giddy, excited repose but soon it was dashed and we made our exit from the building. The restauranteur (pimp) gave us odd glances, the security guard feigned a look of astonishment and soon we were back out to the sweet polluted air of Bangalore.

After eating we retired to our beds, the illustrious Hotel Telehaus which i soon realized was actually built over the Brothel, and thus whose main purpose was properly to serve it's clients.

This place was god awful

Anyhow, the place was an almighty hole. In trying to draw on comparisons i can only think of a once proud sailing vessel that has been adrift at sea for several years and thus reduced to little more than a few planks of wood a deep rooted infestation of scurvy. Upon reflection the last time money has been spent on the place must have numbered at least 20 years ago. Damp was everywhere, the beds were awful, the paper peeled from the walls and everywhere you looked you were confronted by dead, dying and more worryingly very much alive cockroaches. It was not a fun night and poor George ended up sleeping between two chairs for the night.

Railway to Freedom (Stolen from George)

We left Bangalore contented to never return and boarded a train bound for Mysore. Many of you i suspect like myself will have an image crop to mind when you think of Indian trains. Perhaps hundreds of people desperately clinging to the roof as a runaway diesel careers down a  rickety track into impending doom? No? Well then perhaps add some fire and more calamity to the mix and you have my prior expectation.

Train To Mysore

This however could not have been further from the truth. The seats were comfortable, the service significantly better than my local train line run by Southeastern in the UK. (I really hate that fucking company) The food which was completely unexpected was passable, the carriage far from full and the room generally at a very nice temperature. It was a most comfortable four hours, and the guardsman even let me into the diesel engine at the front when i walked up with my camera to take a few pictures.

By far what i enjoy on these trains is the ability to open the door as your bolting along at whatever miles per hour, stick your body out and see the countryside fly past. It's just dangerous enough to shit you up a little bit. 

View from the Carriage

Arrival in Mysore:

Arriving at Mysore Station

We squeezed into a taxi and headed for the hotel, praying that the quality could only improve form the aforementioned Hotel Telehaus (International). We were in luck, the place was tastefully decorated and the beds comfortable, clean and fresh.

Taxi

We hit up the restaurant next door which was in partnership with out hotel, and frankly it was one of the best curry's I've ever had. Being a philistine ordered the chicken tika masla as it was one of the few things on the menu i recognized. The flavor, the texture, the sensations, they were all impeccable. Washed down with a double brandy and a pint of Kingfisher, India has truly arrived and now we could get down to business.

I think i'm the only person in this that doesn't look on edge.
(Stolen from Ket)

I won't spend to much time on Mysore as the length of this blog and the attention span of any readers ways heavily on my mind. In short we visited a light show and the Royal Palace that night which was lackluster throughout but made up for it by a spectacular show at the finale. We visited the temple of goddess Chamundeshwari by means of a couple of Tuk Tuks desperately clinging on the questionable road surface as we slowly spiraled our way up the mountainous Chamundi Hills.

Tuk Tuk journey
(Stolen from Keith)

Here we got told off for trying to carry our shoes in and left a bit unimpressed and not really sure what we'd missed out on, although we undoubtedly had missed something.  What i like most about the Hindu temples that i have visited it that blind fool can haphazardly take photo at random and make these things look good. As pure fodder for my camera it served my needs well.

Temple of goddess Chamundeshwari

The tour continued: a  trip to some kind of craft center, incense factory, private tailor etc were promised by our guide to be unique cultural experiences but were in reality opportunities to ply our wallets upon and gorge on the juicy inwards within by the local populace. Museums my arse hole.

Incense maker

The 24 hours or so we has spent in Mysore had been well invested and we had enjoyed our time there. However i and probably the others were still looking for the rural side of India, which led us on our road to a small farm in Wayand, deep in the rural Southern countryside.

Tune in next week. DUN DUN DUUUUUUUN.

P.S.

Check out my Flickr for the polished photos at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/glenncook/sets/72157632067033774/