January Insanity

Alright team, January is going to be intense.

I'm in Myanmar now, heading to Mali and Niger next week, and rounding out the month in Uganda. I'll try to be better about posting chronologically but my internet in West Africa is likely to be spotty.  On the plus side, toward the end of the month I'll be true to "laura in africa" and actually post about Africa.

Get ready. But for now I have to sleep. 12.5 hour time differences are just ridiculous.

Magic Show

The hotel in Matheran was very family-oriented and consequently had a schedule of fun events for every day. Since dinner was served super late, we decided to check out the magic show in order to keep ourselves awake until we could eat. The show was in Hindi, clearly, but I assumed the tricks would translate. However there were a lot of jokes between tricks which were lost on us entirely. I did learn that “abracadabra” in Hindi (at least in this show) was “poo poo”. The magician was really into audience participation which included Noah who he often asked things of (in Hindi). The first couple we could figure out, like “touch this handkerchief and nod in agreement that the ring is still under it” or “nod vigorously in agreement that this knot is tight” but it got a little more complicated from there.  The total failure was when he asked “name a flower”—there was no way we were getting that from context. Thankfully the guy next to us whispered a translation. Poo poo!

Continental food

We were the only foreign tourists at the hotel which was otherwise populated by families from Mumbai. They tried really hard to make us feel really welcome, or me rather because people seemed to think Noah was Indian. All our meals were included in the price of lodging so we were well fed. The first night, they set up this amazing Indian buffet which I was excited to dig into but as I was getting my plate the head waiter informed me that they had prepared for me a special Continental meal. I think they assumed the continent I was from was Europe, but no matter.  He presented a “lasagna”. Take a second and imagine the key features of lasagna… pasta? Tomato sauce? Layers? Rectangular? It was none of these things. It was a bowl of vegetable stew with a weird bread crust on top. And it was made especially for me!  Joy.

Points

So the big thing to do in Matheran, aside from buying leather sandals, is to go visit all the sight-seeing points. Armed with a map Noah and I hit a fair number of them.  The hikes were fun, but for the one we always heard as “garbage point” it was a little intense. It ended up being a two hour hike and was pretty unpopular (understandably).  On the way back we timed it so it was right after “spider web-making hour” and essentially just walked through spider web upon giant spider web. Not super pleasant. We invented a special hands in front zombie walk so we hit the webs with our hands and not our faces. Anyway, beautiful views and nice walks. The points.

Matheran

We couldn't get tickets all the way back to Mumbai but managed to get two hours outside to Panvel. So I opened trusty guidebook and tried to figure out what might be interesting around there. I came across Matheran, a hill station outside of Neral. We did the beach, so doing the mountains seemed perfect.

Ah to breathe clean air. While it took a lot of 4am local train transfers and a really precarious taxi ride wherein Noah and I both sat in the front seat and the driver shifted between Noah’s spread-eagle legs—Matheran is a bastion of peace.  No cars are allowed up so porters and horses await the decrepit taxis at the entrance. I always feel conflicted about porters, especially having ones that are twice my age and half my height lug my bags for me, but he seemed really eager and I guess it’s good honest work. Noah and I realized that we are too chicken shit to really enjoy riding the horses up. At first I expected some sort of safety lesson or “do’s and don’ts” for the ride but the guy just hoisted me up and that was the end of our communication. I kept worrying that the monkeys would spook the horse and I felt really bad for it every time the wrangler hit him on the haunches.

1AC is the place to be!

Having traveled in 3AC on the way to Goa (link) we were thrilled to get 1AC tickets on the way back to Mumbai.  Here are some features of 1AC:

•   Adequate water bottle holders
•   Two-person compartments
•   Doors that close AND LOCK
•   Both beds can be down and you can still sit up
•   End tables
•   Fans we can control (that don’t just blow dust and mold smell on you)
•  Adequate lighting which we control
•  Hand towels!
•  Freshly laundered sheets (as evidenced by the paper they come in)
•  A Western toilet (albeit one that I would never dream of touching with my bare skin) complete with toilet paper and soap!
•   A full-length mirror (?)

Cows on the Beach

Beaches are great, so why wouldn’t cows like them? I’m not sure why this was so off-putting to me—oh yeah, the cow shit. Nothing worse then a giant cow patty on the beach.  The relative proliferation of cows was another downside of Anjuna but Palolem had them too. At least the ones in Palolem tended to stick to one area of the beach so you knew when to watch where you walked.

My Ayurvedic Head Massage

Another “thing to do” in Palolem is to get a massage. I had a fantastic Thai head massage once and have been chasing that feeling since. I did not find it here. There were a couple movements that were soothing but by and large, I couldn’t wait for it to be done. I’m not sure how professional the lady I got the massage from was or how well it represents “ayurvedic massage’, but the unpleasant maneuvers included 1) eyebrow pinching 2) eyelid massage 3 )hair pulling. The hair pulling was particularly extensive and purposeful. Pretty much the opposite of relaxing.

Activities List

It’s funny in tourist areas how there is just this set list of things that you’re supposed to do. In Palolem this includes 

1) renting a tandem kayak and 

2) taking a boat ride out to first look at dolphins, then go to Butterfly Island and then go to Honeymoon Beach.  

Even if you don’t want to do these things, you pretty much have to because every person you pass offers them to you and eventually you need to be able to say “already did it, thanks”.  But renting tandem kayaks is sort of awesome, so no problems there. And while seeing an occasional dolphin fin isn’t that exciting to me, and Butterfly Island only actually has butterflies at a different time of year, and at high tide Honeymoon Beach is basically just a rock--- going on a boat ride is always nice.

Palolem

Now this is where you want to be! The beach was quiet and peaceful and clean. The sand was white, the water was shallow, warm and had gentle waves that just folded over. The palm trees poked out above every roof. This beach was lined with little clusters of bungalows and open-air restaurants. While each restaurant had the same crazy menu of Indian, Mexican, Israeli, and Chinese food, they also had beach-facing chairs in the shade that caught the warm breeze. Not too shabby.

There was of course the hustle of bungalow selection. As our taxi turned into the road leading to Palolem a man on bike rode up next to us and handed us a business card for his bungalows. By the time the taxi stopped there was a swarm of touts trying to bring us to their bungalows.  We agreed to look at each person’s bungalows and then make a choice which worked surprisingly well.  In all, we viewed 8 different bungalows which allowed us to get a sense of what types of amenities you can get for $12 a night. We picked a bungalow that had a hammock out front and was set a little back from the beach in a quiet palm tree cove. Weirdly though they were BYOTP (and TP costs a whopping 12 cents a roll) and the owner tried to sell Noah drugs.  After the first night of mosquito attacks, we switched to a beach front bungalow with a thick mattress and a lovely mosquito net.

On the last day we finally hit our perfect stride. We woke up, went on a jog down the beach, stopped at a vendor for a samosa and chai snack, took showers, ate a potato bhaji breakfast, went for a dip before the sun got too intense, ate fish in a beach-facing restaurant, drank fresh squeezed lime juice in seltzer, read on our bungalow porch, went kayaking, strolled out to the far end for sunset, and then ate an Indian supper after the sun went down.

Anjuna

There are a lot of beaches in Goa, each with its own personality. Since we hadn’t really planned our trip, we went with the tried and true “do what everyone else is doing”. We didn’t add into the calculations that everyone else was 20 years old. This brought us to Anjuna beach, known for its rave scene. The beach was littered with beer bottles and was rocky and dirty.  It took us all of 12 hours to decide it was not where we wanted to be and then jumped in a taxi to head to the Southern beaches.

3AC

So the long distance trains come in a variety of classes. Apparently different lines operate a bit differently but on the train we were on there was 1AC, 2AC, 3AC, and 2^nd class. 1AC had just two berths in a private cabin with a door that locks. 2AC had four berths and curtains. 3AC had six births and was wide open. I didn’t venture into 2^nd class but the lack of the letters “AC” afterward makes me pretty sure it was a sweaty, smelly, hell hole.

Our first long train ride was in 3AC because that was the only ticket available. It was a Tourist Quota ticket so our area was filled with other foreigners, who happened to all be American. The awkward thing about 3AC is that it requires coordination with strangers. If everyone has their bed down, then everyone can lay down, but no one can sit up, eat, or really even turn over. So to sit up or eat, someone has to put their bed away and then share with whoever is below them. Awkwardly Noah and I were both on the top bunks so we couldn’t even see the people below us well.

There are traveling food vendors that run down the aisles advertising their wares. At some point I was desperate for a Samosa and went on a Samosa Stakeout. This was necessary because the Samosa man was like a jet. He got by so fast I could never flag him down. By the time I heard the word “Samosa” he was already two cars away. He also came at weird intervals. And being on the top bunk wasn’t an advantage. I eventually had to just lean my head off the bunk and stare at the corridor and wave down anyone who went by and then disappointingly dismiss the water guy, the dosa guy, the pakora guy, or the “weird vat of noodles” guy.

Commuter Friends

One thing that struck me about India was that in general, commuters were really helpful (this does not apply to anyone at the airport). Yes when it came to directions they were often wrong with the information they gave, but they were happy to give it. And importantly, people gave information for free. There wasn’t the constant “I’ll help you but then you need to pay me” attitude you find in some other countries. We even found some people being really concerned for us. On our stint in 2^nd class at rush hour a couple found a way to squeeze me through the crowd to a seat so I wouldn’t get trampled. At a station kiosk a man warned Noah to hide his metal water bottle because “the public will take it!” A man on the train warned me to put away my camera when we came to stops because someone could reach in the window and grab it and run off. Thanks commuter friends!

Tourist Quota Tickets

Some people plan their vacations far in advance and know where they’re going when. We aren’t those people. I like the idea of being flexible and sticking around a place we fancy and ditching a place that rubs us wrong. Only problem is there are 1.2 BILLION people in India and a lot of them like to ride trains. So it quickly became clear that booking a last minute long haul train ride wasn’t going to be easy.

Thankfully there are tourist quota tickets. At some point, someone must have figured out that it is bad for tourism if tourists can never get anywhere because all the trains are booked 90 days in advance by local people in the know. Enter Tourist Quota Tickets. It is unclear to me how many of these exist, for which trains, and which compartments. All I know is that if you want in a special tourist quota line and give a request for where you’d like to go, when, and by what class, a guy behind the counter can usually find you something that meets only the first criterion but is better than nothing. We were hoping for 1^st class tickets on Thursday to Goa. We got third class tickets to Goa on Friday. Close enough.

Horn Ok Please

On our first Tuk Tuk ride I kept seeing this phrase on the back of vehicles.

What does this mean? This is not English as I know it. Are they saying “Use your horn, okay? Please??” or “Stop honking your horn please, okay?” Why are cars instructing other cars on horn usage?

By the end of the trip we determined that this was a request to use your horn (which is weird for us living in a city where there are signs posted everyone with fines for using your horn). We observed that it was mostly slow moving vehicles, Tuk Tuks and trucks, that had this message and we hypothesized that it is a request to faster vehicles to give a little honk if they were going to try to pass them. This actually came in very useful when we were in those faster vehicles, recklessly passing the slower guys. So I’m totally okay with horns, please.