In the sixties and seventies Goa, a small state on the mid western coast of India, was the place to be. Thousands of young people from across the world made their way to Goa in search of spiritual enlightenment and a life of community with other like minded people. The seemingly endless supply of cheap cannabis and other mind altering drugs may also have been a draw.
The ready supply of cannabis is still there and so are some of the original hippies, but the 21st century pilgrims to this part of the world come with less loftier aims and Goa is now rather more the 'kiss me quick' capital of the east.
With three main areas, being the northern beaches, the central state capital Panjim and the southern beaches, Goa still has miles and miles of fabulous beach. Each mile however is now coated with wooden sun loungers underneath umbrellas provided by Coca Cola, Kingfisher beer and other drinks producers. The sea is filled with happy swimmers and jet skis, sometimes in too close a proximity to one another for comfort, and the skies are dotted with paragliders being towed behind speedboats. Behind the loungers are endless beach shacks, wedged cheek by jowl along the entire length of the beach serving food and drinks at reasonable prices.
Visitors are predominantly european, though perhaps a quarter of the tourists here are Indian. The europeans are mainly British, on package tours, and Russians, probably also on packages tourski. The tourists seem to be mainly couples so, thankfully, there are very few small children to irritate me and to disturb my spirit.
The entire focus here seems to be on serving the tourist. There is little evidence of any other commercial activity. There are hundreds, nay thousands of restaurants, hotels, bars, clubs, and discotheques. Alcohol is widely available and relatively inexpensive at about 80p for a pint of beer and about 60p for a large spirit so its unsurprising, if not particularly pleasing, to see people hopping into the grog at 10 o'clock in the morning and staying on it for the remains of the day. There are scores of hawkers and beach vendors that want to sell you anything from a newspaper, to fruit, to pirate DVDs and jewellery. Off the beach every second man is a taxi driver looking for the one fare he needs per day to make a living.
And this, where we are staying, is apparently the more sophisticated part of Goa. We did scamper about 3km up the beach to the 'less sophisticated' part of Calangute's main beach. Never again. It was mayhem. cars, buses and trucks intermingled with thousands of sunburned europeans scrapping over cheap tourist tat in hundreds of little shops. A nightmare. Don't go there.
Which brings us to the tourists themselves. The people that live here must think that all British people are fat and have northern accents. It seems that they almost exclusively come from the northwest or merseyside and the men are, virtually without exception, significantly overweight. The women have finely painted nails and mountains of cellulite. Even the younger women have paunches. On the upside though the 'Brits' seem jovial and good natured, but I do wonder what the locals think of us.
The Russians seem to follow a different pattern. The men are big, but muscular and they almost all seem to have tiny, slender, pretty girls at their sides. They smile rarely.
Then there is Kathy & me. I don't think that we have ever spent so many days doing nothing other than sitting around in the sun, reading books, listening to music and taking it easy. 'Kiss me quick capital of the east' of not, you cannot help but relax here as there is simply nothing else to do. It is fabulous
I've also got a little sunburnt, and put on a few pounds. All I have to do now is to start speaking with a Manchester accent and I'll fit right in!
December 30, 2010
December 26, 2010
Mysore Photos
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| Market |
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| Market |
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| We found Mysore a fabulous place. Here's some pics including the palace at night. It has 97000 light bulbs you know! |
December 24, 2010
Christmas in a Different Culture & Climate
I am rather a traditionalist in many ways. I imagine this is because with tradition comes the certainty that all will be well and I, like most people I expect, take comfort in the knowledge that these traditional things have been undertaken with monotonous regularity over decades or even centuries and the outcome is, almost without exception, that all is well.
Take Christmas for instance. I'm used to this being traditional and in many ways predictable. I like it that way.
It starts in October, though I did see some pubs touting their Christmas menus as early as September this year. In some ways the change is almost subliminal; it sneaks up on you and before you know it its right on top of you, like a cold. My suspicions were first raised maybe ten weeks ago, at the supermarket. I wanted some jalopeno peppers to go in my renowned triple layer, more cheese and chilli than is good for you, nachos and found them vacated from their normal home. In their place were pallet loads of twelve inch diameter tins of Quality Street & Roses Chocolates competitively priced at £7 per tin or two tins for £10. I was tempted quite frankly my friends, as I am a sucker for a chocolate, but I shook myself out of the 'thought of sugar' trance and stepped away from the chocolates, only to find myself faced with an entire festive range of sweets and savouries from plum pudding and brandy snaps to pickled red cabbage, vacuum packed ham joints and a small brickbond wall made from hundreds of boxes of Christmas crackers. Closer inspection revealed that some of these items would be out of shelf life by the time the big days came around which I found strangely mysterious. I eventually found my jalopenos, but it was clear that the Christmas run-up starting gun had been fired.
In the subsequent weeks there was a steady and relentless increase in shops of piped music from the "Best Christmas Album - Ever" compilation CD box set. I'm sure Roy Wood and Noddy Holder are grateful for the annual royalty cheques. Then there is the insidious increase in TV and radio advertising for this year's children's 'must have' toys; a way whereby kids get brainwashed into pestering their parents to spend significant sums of money, that many of them don't have, on fadish pieces of plastic with a tuppeny micro chip that will be broken or tossed aside by new year's day.
We left for India at the end of November when the whole programme was just getting into its full swing. So I missed the steady increase in marketing, as well as the snow, and I expect that today sees the first TV advertising campaigns for the January sales and next year's summer holidays. I missed the office parties. I missed the climbing and kissing that goes with a little too much festive cheer. I missed the 'Secret Santa' exchanges, though I have never really understood that as an idea - I would always want someone to know that I'd bought them a gift and the thought that went into its selection. I missed all that modern 'tradition' and will miss the whistlestop tour of relatives and friends on Christmas day.
There's a substantial Christian population in India. They will celebrate Christmas, but its an understated and personal celebration. People of other faiths will take Christmas day off too and spend it with their families. There's a bit of tinsel here and there, and there will be some fireworks tonight, but here it is much more about what Christmas truly means for those that believe.
Any of you that know me will know that I am about as religious as an injection moulded garden chair. When I say regarding Christmas that I am a traditionalist and like it that way I think I've actually been sucked in by the hype and I've become a convert to the modern commercialised tradition without even realising it. Being away and in a different culture and climate for the first Christmas in many years I think I am now a convert to a Christmas that is a matter of faith for those that believe it and a day off for the rest of us.
That I think is a tradition worth keeping alive and if we do then I think that all will be well.
Take Christmas for instance. I'm used to this being traditional and in many ways predictable. I like it that way.
It starts in October, though I did see some pubs touting their Christmas menus as early as September this year. In some ways the change is almost subliminal; it sneaks up on you and before you know it its right on top of you, like a cold. My suspicions were first raised maybe ten weeks ago, at the supermarket. I wanted some jalopeno peppers to go in my renowned triple layer, more cheese and chilli than is good for you, nachos and found them vacated from their normal home. In their place were pallet loads of twelve inch diameter tins of Quality Street & Roses Chocolates competitively priced at £7 per tin or two tins for £10. I was tempted quite frankly my friends, as I am a sucker for a chocolate, but I shook myself out of the 'thought of sugar' trance and stepped away from the chocolates, only to find myself faced with an entire festive range of sweets and savouries from plum pudding and brandy snaps to pickled red cabbage, vacuum packed ham joints and a small brickbond wall made from hundreds of boxes of Christmas crackers. Closer inspection revealed that some of these items would be out of shelf life by the time the big days came around which I found strangely mysterious. I eventually found my jalopenos, but it was clear that the Christmas run-up starting gun had been fired.
In the subsequent weeks there was a steady and relentless increase in shops of piped music from the "Best Christmas Album - Ever" compilation CD box set. I'm sure Roy Wood and Noddy Holder are grateful for the annual royalty cheques. Then there is the insidious increase in TV and radio advertising for this year's children's 'must have' toys; a way whereby kids get brainwashed into pestering their parents to spend significant sums of money, that many of them don't have, on fadish pieces of plastic with a tuppeny micro chip that will be broken or tossed aside by new year's day.
We left for India at the end of November when the whole programme was just getting into its full swing. So I missed the steady increase in marketing, as well as the snow, and I expect that today sees the first TV advertising campaigns for the January sales and next year's summer holidays. I missed the office parties. I missed the climbing and kissing that goes with a little too much festive cheer. I missed the 'Secret Santa' exchanges, though I have never really understood that as an idea - I would always want someone to know that I'd bought them a gift and the thought that went into its selection. I missed all that modern 'tradition' and will miss the whistlestop tour of relatives and friends on Christmas day.
There's a substantial Christian population in India. They will celebrate Christmas, but its an understated and personal celebration. People of other faiths will take Christmas day off too and spend it with their families. There's a bit of tinsel here and there, and there will be some fireworks tonight, but here it is much more about what Christmas truly means for those that believe.
Any of you that know me will know that I am about as religious as an injection moulded garden chair. When I say regarding Christmas that I am a traditionalist and like it that way I think I've actually been sucked in by the hype and I've become a convert to the modern commercialised tradition without even realising it. Being away and in a different culture and climate for the first Christmas in many years I think I am now a convert to a Christmas that is a matter of faith for those that believe it and a day off for the rest of us.
That I think is a tradition worth keeping alive and if we do then I think that all will be well.
December 20, 2010
The Delights of Road Travel In India
We've been travelling around the southern part of India by road for 8 days now, doing a zig-zag pattern from Kovollam in the very south west of India to Goa, about 700 miles farther up the west coast. The zig-zag has seen us across to the East coast of the country and back through some fabulous scenery, on roads that range from the wonderful to the outright demonic along with some interesting road hazards. I shall never grumble in the future about UK roads or the driving standards of UK drivers. We are all but amateurs when it comes to idiocy on the roads and here in India there is an active nationwide competition to see who it is that can behave in the most stupid way behind the wheel, on a bike, or on foot. The graveyards of this nation are filled with the bodies of failed contestants.
Our driver, Shateesh, is fine. We told him when we first met him that there were two rules to which he needed to adhere. Rule one was that there was to be no crazy driving and rule two was that he could only use the horn in an absolute emergency. He has stuck to the rules and we have felt safe in his hands. However, here's a short resume of the things we have seen and narrowly avoided.
Road hazards here come in two main forms. The first is the large number and variety of animal and vegetable hazards. The second is the danger posed by the 'people / machinery' combination.
Regarding animals we have swerved by, dodged or halted just in time in the presence of loose dogs; cats; cows (by the score); pigs; goats; sheep; choocks; oxen, monkeys and even encountered an elephant in the back of a pick up truck. The dogs, cats and monkeys aren't too troublesome as they are bright enough to get out of the way. The bloody cows just either stand there or slowly lumber from one side of the road to the other. Now I understand that the cow is sacred to some here, but allowing a cow to stand in the road and eat garbage at the side of it is not veneration its just laziness on the part of the owner. Worse is our bovine friends will often simply lie down in the road and while it is possible to treat them as a sort of roundabout during the day its rather more unnerving when its dark and you suddenly find a black cow lying down on black tarmac against the backdrop of a black sky. Oxen aren't too much bother when they are pulling a cart, though some of the carts I've seen have been so overloaded that I have felt for the poor beasts, but at least the cart provides some size to at least help other road users see it. But of course they have no lights at night, so as a car driver at night you scamper up at 50 KPH behind something that is the size of a truck with no lights doing 3 KPH. Its scary.
Vegetables as a road hazard may be a new concept to you dear reader, but I can assure you that it is one that requires a driver's attention if disaster is not to strike. I say vegetables as a broad term and include pulses, grains and pretty much anything that comes from the ground within the description.
Between Kanchipuram and Mysore there is actually a half decent dual carriageway for some of the journey. For reasons I shall explain later under the people / machinery section this means that the average car driver can get up to a heady 50 or 60 KPH. So there we were. Sateesh busy doing his driver stuff and us in the back gazing out of the windows. Suddenly there is all sorts of commotion as cars, trucks , buses and bikes jostle to brake and get into the slow lane. Its mayhem, with arms being waved and horns sounded. The bikes go up the verge to get through and Sateesh somehow manages to find a spot in the queue for our little car. Eventually we pass the cause of all the fuss. For about 3 miles some enterprising folk have realised that tarmac, being black, soaks up the heat of the sun and stays warmer longer than, say, grass. So they have decided to spread an inch thick layer of bright yellow lentils on the entire fast lane to dry out. Its pandemonium.
A little farther on past Mysore its harvest time and the farmer's or their labourers cut down the grain by hand using sickles and then carry it to the carriageway and put it in ten yards long, twelve inches high mats on the road for cars and trucks to drive over, acting as a type of rudimentary threshing machine. The mats of grain aren't the problem - its the labourers that stand in the road with a brush and a bag collecting the grain.
"Where are the cops?", I sense you asking yourself. Well its very interesting but you don't actually see any cops on the roads, ever. Infrequently you may see an empty Police 'Highway Patrol' car parked by the side of the road but you never see any actual policemen. Even when, as happens at the entrance to every town, village or hamlet, the chicane barriers announce ' Police Check Point - Stop & Proceed' there are never any policemen checking (though I am not sure what they would check if they were there). Unsurprisingly no vehicles 'stop' - they simply 'proceed' though the barriers themselves can be a surprise at night for, and yes you are ahead of me, they have no lights. This is one of the many people / machinery combinations of lunatic behaviour that make driving in this country so hazardous.
So what about the others? Its where to start really that is the problem, as I'd like you to believe that none of it is fiction, but if I dive in with the belters you might switch off. Oh well here goes in no particular order of importance.
Firstly you have to appreciate the nature of the average road user. There are car drivers, bike riders, cyclists and pedestrians. There are horse and oxen drawn vehicles. I've seen a family of six on a small motorbike; a man on a moped with a 50kg bag of something between his legs and a calf on his lap; a rickshaw with at least a dozen kids on board; a 10m trailer being towed by a man sitting on a rotovator and a woman riding a scooter carrying and opened umbrella.
There are thouands of buses and they are all driven by men with a death wish and a horn that when pressed registers 8.4 on the richter scale. It turns out that buses that operate between towns don't run to a timetable, the drivers simply have to make two round trips and then they can clock off. As a result they are driven at suicidal speeds and drivers will think nothing of overtaking 3 & 4 abreast, at night, and around blind corners to clip a few fractions here and there. Truck drivers are clearly former bus drivers as the behaviour is the same. They will overtake, undertake and virtually push other road users out of the way in their quest to get home. This is one of the reasons why if you are in a car 50 - 60 KPH on a two lane highway is the max, as you have to continually concede to the maniac bus and truck drivers or end up in the ditch. Car drivers, bike riders and rickshaw drivers are, without exception, totally oblivious to other road users and pedestrians. I even saw a car with a picture of some religious icon painted onto its windscreen so that the driver had only a small 12 x 12" space to peer through. I noticed this as it undertook us on the hard shoulder at high speed.
This is all complicated by that other interesting people / machinery combination: the directionally challenged. I've seen a truck going the wrong way up the fast lane of a dual carriageway and countless bikes, cars, buses, tractors and trucks going the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. Its seems that if where they want to go is only a few miles up the road they will do it on the wrong side of the road for their convenience, so they don't have to cross the road. Its carnage and, of course, worse at night.
You may have noticed that I have made specific reference to driving at night more than once.If you are ever tempted to drive at night in India I can only implore you not to - it is just too dangerous.
There are two types of headlight used at nights on vehicles in India. No, not the dipped beam / main beam options that you are familiar with but the specific Indian headlight design which has only two settings, either off or on full beam. Now, remember what I've already touched upon in this bulletin as hazards, then add darkness and imagine a bus coming towards you. Its going at breakneck speed, on the wrong side of the road with no headlights on and then, when it is 30m from you it puts enough headlights on main beam to act as a lighthouse. You can't see and you don't have enough time to shit yourself, so you just yank the wheel left and hope there isn't a cow lying down by the side of the road.
Don't even let me start on the behaviour of pedestrains!
Our driver, Shateesh, is fine. We told him when we first met him that there were two rules to which he needed to adhere. Rule one was that there was to be no crazy driving and rule two was that he could only use the horn in an absolute emergency. He has stuck to the rules and we have felt safe in his hands. However, here's a short resume of the things we have seen and narrowly avoided.
Road hazards here come in two main forms. The first is the large number and variety of animal and vegetable hazards. The second is the danger posed by the 'people / machinery' combination.
Regarding animals we have swerved by, dodged or halted just in time in the presence of loose dogs; cats; cows (by the score); pigs; goats; sheep; choocks; oxen, monkeys and even encountered an elephant in the back of a pick up truck. The dogs, cats and monkeys aren't too troublesome as they are bright enough to get out of the way. The bloody cows just either stand there or slowly lumber from one side of the road to the other. Now I understand that the cow is sacred to some here, but allowing a cow to stand in the road and eat garbage at the side of it is not veneration its just laziness on the part of the owner. Worse is our bovine friends will often simply lie down in the road and while it is possible to treat them as a sort of roundabout during the day its rather more unnerving when its dark and you suddenly find a black cow lying down on black tarmac against the backdrop of a black sky. Oxen aren't too much bother when they are pulling a cart, though some of the carts I've seen have been so overloaded that I have felt for the poor beasts, but at least the cart provides some size to at least help other road users see it. But of course they have no lights at night, so as a car driver at night you scamper up at 50 KPH behind something that is the size of a truck with no lights doing 3 KPH. Its scary.
Vegetables as a road hazard may be a new concept to you dear reader, but I can assure you that it is one that requires a driver's attention if disaster is not to strike. I say vegetables as a broad term and include pulses, grains and pretty much anything that comes from the ground within the description.
Between Kanchipuram and Mysore there is actually a half decent dual carriageway for some of the journey. For reasons I shall explain later under the people / machinery section this means that the average car driver can get up to a heady 50 or 60 KPH. So there we were. Sateesh busy doing his driver stuff and us in the back gazing out of the windows. Suddenly there is all sorts of commotion as cars, trucks , buses and bikes jostle to brake and get into the slow lane. Its mayhem, with arms being waved and horns sounded. The bikes go up the verge to get through and Sateesh somehow manages to find a spot in the queue for our little car. Eventually we pass the cause of all the fuss. For about 3 miles some enterprising folk have realised that tarmac, being black, soaks up the heat of the sun and stays warmer longer than, say, grass. So they have decided to spread an inch thick layer of bright yellow lentils on the entire fast lane to dry out. Its pandemonium.
A little farther on past Mysore its harvest time and the farmer's or their labourers cut down the grain by hand using sickles and then carry it to the carriageway and put it in ten yards long, twelve inches high mats on the road for cars and trucks to drive over, acting as a type of rudimentary threshing machine. The mats of grain aren't the problem - its the labourers that stand in the road with a brush and a bag collecting the grain.
"Where are the cops?", I sense you asking yourself. Well its very interesting but you don't actually see any cops on the roads, ever. Infrequently you may see an empty Police 'Highway Patrol' car parked by the side of the road but you never see any actual policemen. Even when, as happens at the entrance to every town, village or hamlet, the chicane barriers announce ' Police Check Point - Stop & Proceed' there are never any policemen checking (though I am not sure what they would check if they were there). Unsurprisingly no vehicles 'stop' - they simply 'proceed' though the barriers themselves can be a surprise at night for, and yes you are ahead of me, they have no lights. This is one of the many people / machinery combinations of lunatic behaviour that make driving in this country so hazardous.
So what about the others? Its where to start really that is the problem, as I'd like you to believe that none of it is fiction, but if I dive in with the belters you might switch off. Oh well here goes in no particular order of importance.
Firstly you have to appreciate the nature of the average road user. There are car drivers, bike riders, cyclists and pedestrians. There are horse and oxen drawn vehicles. I've seen a family of six on a small motorbike; a man on a moped with a 50kg bag of something between his legs and a calf on his lap; a rickshaw with at least a dozen kids on board; a 10m trailer being towed by a man sitting on a rotovator and a woman riding a scooter carrying and opened umbrella.
There are thouands of buses and they are all driven by men with a death wish and a horn that when pressed registers 8.4 on the richter scale. It turns out that buses that operate between towns don't run to a timetable, the drivers simply have to make two round trips and then they can clock off. As a result they are driven at suicidal speeds and drivers will think nothing of overtaking 3 & 4 abreast, at night, and around blind corners to clip a few fractions here and there. Truck drivers are clearly former bus drivers as the behaviour is the same. They will overtake, undertake and virtually push other road users out of the way in their quest to get home. This is one of the reasons why if you are in a car 50 - 60 KPH on a two lane highway is the max, as you have to continually concede to the maniac bus and truck drivers or end up in the ditch. Car drivers, bike riders and rickshaw drivers are, without exception, totally oblivious to other road users and pedestrians. I even saw a car with a picture of some religious icon painted onto its windscreen so that the driver had only a small 12 x 12" space to peer through. I noticed this as it undertook us on the hard shoulder at high speed.
This is all complicated by that other interesting people / machinery combination: the directionally challenged. I've seen a truck going the wrong way up the fast lane of a dual carriageway and countless bikes, cars, buses, tractors and trucks going the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. Its seems that if where they want to go is only a few miles up the road they will do it on the wrong side of the road for their convenience, so they don't have to cross the road. Its carnage and, of course, worse at night.
You may have noticed that I have made specific reference to driving at night more than once.If you are ever tempted to drive at night in India I can only implore you not to - it is just too dangerous.
There are two types of headlight used at nights on vehicles in India. No, not the dipped beam / main beam options that you are familiar with but the specific Indian headlight design which has only two settings, either off or on full beam. Now, remember what I've already touched upon in this bulletin as hazards, then add darkness and imagine a bus coming towards you. Its going at breakneck speed, on the wrong side of the road with no headlights on and then, when it is 30m from you it puts enough headlights on main beam to act as a lighthouse. You can't see and you don't have enough time to shit yourself, so you just yank the wheel left and hope there isn't a cow lying down by the side of the road.
Don't even let me start on the behaviour of pedestrains!
December 12, 2010
School, Mosquitos & Elastic Bands
Mosquitos have always found me very tasty. Since my first uncomfortable encounter with them some decades ago I have always been careful to pack or procure protection whenever I visit a country that these pesky little creaures call home.
Regarding that first unpleasant meeting, I was sailing around the Florida keys with some friends, perhaps 25 years ago. It was late afternoon, we had anchored and I had set off in the dingy with the boat's owner and his two young sons to do some fishing. Perhaps we'd pull in enough small red snapper to make a tasty supper? So there we were looking out for a suitable place to cast our lines when I spotted, some way off in the distance, a large low flying aircraft. I could tell it was large for when it banked and turned the wingspan was substantial. It had two large propeller engines that growled as it banked, turned, swooped downwards then climbed, banked and repeated the process in a large figure of eight.
It was really rather elegant, swinging back and forth, but it didn't take us very long to identify the machine and its true purpose. As it got closer we could see that it was an old Dakota and it was dusting the islands. The consequence of this was that the entire island population of flying bugs had, as one, decided that they would be much safer at sea and in our little boat we were suddenly immersed in a black blanket of fleeing insects. Some of them decided to stop for a spot of dinner as they cruised through and yours truly was very much on the menu. The outboard was quickly deployed and we hastened back to the boat and battened down the hatches. My companions bore one or two bites each, I had in excess of a hundred. As you may imagine, dear reader, I have been more careful since.
All of which brings me to last night, I had bought a plug - in anti mosquito device for our little room in Lighthouse Beach but, as we were leaving this morning at stupid o'clock, I had decided to unplug it and pack it away and that a more manual approach to pest control would be adopted for one night. Out with the rolled up newspaper I dealt fiercely with the few bugs that had risked entry. One however remained out of reach as the room had an 11 ft ceiling.
Recalling fun-filled days at school particularly in Chemistry, a subject of which even the basics had always eluded me, I remembered how the extension of an elastic band over the length of a 12" ruler would give the projected rubber ring great velocity and, with care, would also allow a highly accurate delivery.Adapting this memory to my situation I borrowed an elastic band from Kathy's bag of hair accessories, extended it over my index finger, took aim, and released. McLeish 1 - Bug 0 as the mosquito bit the dust and in one action both assured an unbitten sleep and also proved that my time at Maidstone Technical High School for Boys was not, contrary to the headmaster's report at the time, entirely wasted.
Regarding that first unpleasant meeting, I was sailing around the Florida keys with some friends, perhaps 25 years ago. It was late afternoon, we had anchored and I had set off in the dingy with the boat's owner and his two young sons to do some fishing. Perhaps we'd pull in enough small red snapper to make a tasty supper? So there we were looking out for a suitable place to cast our lines when I spotted, some way off in the distance, a large low flying aircraft. I could tell it was large for when it banked and turned the wingspan was substantial. It had two large propeller engines that growled as it banked, turned, swooped downwards then climbed, banked and repeated the process in a large figure of eight.
It was really rather elegant, swinging back and forth, but it didn't take us very long to identify the machine and its true purpose. As it got closer we could see that it was an old Dakota and it was dusting the islands. The consequence of this was that the entire island population of flying bugs had, as one, decided that they would be much safer at sea and in our little boat we were suddenly immersed in a black blanket of fleeing insects. Some of them decided to stop for a spot of dinner as they cruised through and yours truly was very much on the menu. The outboard was quickly deployed and we hastened back to the boat and battened down the hatches. My companions bore one or two bites each, I had in excess of a hundred. As you may imagine, dear reader, I have been more careful since.
All of which brings me to last night, I had bought a plug - in anti mosquito device for our little room in Lighthouse Beach but, as we were leaving this morning at stupid o'clock, I had decided to unplug it and pack it away and that a more manual approach to pest control would be adopted for one night. Out with the rolled up newspaper I dealt fiercely with the few bugs that had risked entry. One however remained out of reach as the room had an 11 ft ceiling.
Recalling fun-filled days at school particularly in Chemistry, a subject of which even the basics had always eluded me, I remembered how the extension of an elastic band over the length of a 12" ruler would give the projected rubber ring great velocity and, with care, would also allow a highly accurate delivery.Adapting this memory to my situation I borrowed an elastic band from Kathy's bag of hair accessories, extended it over my index finger, took aim, and released. McLeish 1 - Bug 0 as the mosquito bit the dust and in one action both assured an unbitten sleep and also proved that my time at Maidstone Technical High School for Boys was not, contrary to the headmaster's report at the time, entirely wasted.
December 10, 2010
Moving On This Sunday
We have organised then next step of our trip. We, well I really, have taken it very easy since we got to Kerala. I've lain around in the sun, had beer and read maybe 7 books, including an intriguing biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine. I have been, without doubt, very lazy.
Nevertheless, my spirit seems to have approved of the rest as I am in good humour and broadly speaking at one with the world.
We move on from here on Sunday and have hired a car and a driveR for 10 days to drive us from here to Goa via Tamil Nadu, stopping off to sightsee and be the typical tourists on the way. In my current amenable state I am looking forward very much to this and I know that Kathy, who has a great interest in history and architecture and other things of that nature, is too. I am hopeful that the weather will improve (dry at least would be good) and help make the whole trip enjoyable.
If I can find a way to plot it on a map and load it into the blog (Into? Onto? Who knows?) then I shall. Otherwise the route is Kovallam - Alleppey - Madurai - Pondicherry - Mamallapuram - Kancheepuram - Mysore - Wyanad - Bekal Fort - Goa. 11 nights and 2500 miles in total.
Nevertheless, my spirit seems to have approved of the rest as I am in good humour and broadly speaking at one with the world.
We move on from here on Sunday and have hired a car and a driveR for 10 days to drive us from here to Goa via Tamil Nadu, stopping off to sightsee and be the typical tourists on the way. In my current amenable state I am looking forward very much to this and I know that Kathy, who has a great interest in history and architecture and other things of that nature, is too. I am hopeful that the weather will improve (dry at least would be good) and help make the whole trip enjoyable.
If I can find a way to plot it on a map and load it into the blog (Into? Onto? Who knows?) then I shall. Otherwise the route is Kovallam - Alleppey - Madurai - Pondicherry - Mamallapuram - Kancheepuram - Mysore - Wyanad - Bekal Fort - Goa. 11 nights and 2500 miles in total.
December 8, 2010
Weather Update
The average December rainfall in Kerala is 0.2cm. We have been here 10 days of which only two have been rain-free. Some days the rain has been torrential.Last night it hammered down from 10 p.m. and was still going at noon today.
The rain is warm though and we have broken out the disposable ponchos but I think this December's rainfall average is doomed.
The rain is warm though and we have broken out the disposable ponchos but I think this December's rainfall average is doomed.
Luck, Faith & Vegetarian Food
The state of Kerala is in the south-west of India and along with its neighbour, Tamil Nadu, to the east comprises the bottom of the pendant shape that is modern India. Apparently if you dip you toes in the water at the bottom-most tip, where the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal converge, then you are guaranteed good luck for your entire life! I therefore dipped my toes as prescribed some six years ago and then settled back and waited expectantly for the cheques to roll in.
They didn't so it seems that good luck, for me at any rate, does not necessarily take the form of financial or material gain, but perhaps is rather that I have not encountered any noteworthy misfortune. So for 'good luck for life' insert the 'absence of bad luck' and if the rest of my days are peppered with an absence of bad luck then I shall consider the original toe-tipping investment a good one.
Kerala itself is dotted with temples and shrines and much faith is put into pilgrimage, faith and the careful balance of mind, body and soul in daily life. I'm becoming convinced that it is this combination of spiritual enlightenment and self conservation that seems to make the Keralan people so irritatingly pleasant and cheerful.
Unsurprisingly all sorts of establishments and practices are present to support different elements of this spiritual / physical combination.
One is the practice of ayurvedic medicine. This is a method of treating any number of ailments by massaging medicated oils and milks onto the body. Anything from migraine and facial palsy to deafness and 'sexual weakness' can be mitigated through this ancient system of natural medicine. I haven't tried any of these treatments and remain unconvinced that having warm oil drip onto your forehead for an hour can be a good thing. Nevertheless those I have spoken to that have undertaken these treatments report beneficial effects and a general feeling of well being, so there may be something to it.
The other, that I have tried, is vegetarian food. Now I would be the first to admit that I have never really understood why anyone would want to be vegetarian. It can't be a protest against the killing of animals for, as we all know, a lettuce screams when it is pulled from the soil, so I had tended to view vegetarianism as more of an affectation rather than a conviction. I realise now that my delving for a cause for what I probably perceived as an ailment was wholly wrong. The reason people are vegetarian is probably just because it tastes good. This is a big deal in Kerala and there is a large number of vegetarian restuarants and even those that aren't vegetarian will have a large vegetarian menu. Last night I had a meal of aubergine masala, okra fried with onions and garlic, vegetable koftas in a coconut sauce, vegetable rice and a tomato and cheese melange and they were all, singularly and as a combination, delicious.
So if you are a vegetarian and despair of being able to eat out at home on anything other than limp salad and mass produced nut cutlets you really should visit.
They didn't so it seems that good luck, for me at any rate, does not necessarily take the form of financial or material gain, but perhaps is rather that I have not encountered any noteworthy misfortune. So for 'good luck for life' insert the 'absence of bad luck' and if the rest of my days are peppered with an absence of bad luck then I shall consider the original toe-tipping investment a good one.
Kerala itself is dotted with temples and shrines and much faith is put into pilgrimage, faith and the careful balance of mind, body and soul in daily life. I'm becoming convinced that it is this combination of spiritual enlightenment and self conservation that seems to make the Keralan people so irritatingly pleasant and cheerful.
Unsurprisingly all sorts of establishments and practices are present to support different elements of this spiritual / physical combination.
One is the practice of ayurvedic medicine. This is a method of treating any number of ailments by massaging medicated oils and milks onto the body. Anything from migraine and facial palsy to deafness and 'sexual weakness' can be mitigated through this ancient system of natural medicine. I haven't tried any of these treatments and remain unconvinced that having warm oil drip onto your forehead for an hour can be a good thing. Nevertheless those I have spoken to that have undertaken these treatments report beneficial effects and a general feeling of well being, so there may be something to it.
The other, that I have tried, is vegetarian food. Now I would be the first to admit that I have never really understood why anyone would want to be vegetarian. It can't be a protest against the killing of animals for, as we all know, a lettuce screams when it is pulled from the soil, so I had tended to view vegetarianism as more of an affectation rather than a conviction. I realise now that my delving for a cause for what I probably perceived as an ailment was wholly wrong. The reason people are vegetarian is probably just because it tastes good. This is a big deal in Kerala and there is a large number of vegetarian restuarants and even those that aren't vegetarian will have a large vegetarian menu. Last night I had a meal of aubergine masala, okra fried with onions and garlic, vegetable koftas in a coconut sauce, vegetable rice and a tomato and cheese melange and they were all, singularly and as a combination, delicious.
So if you are a vegetarian and despair of being able to eat out at home on anything other than limp salad and mass produced nut cutlets you really should visit.
December 5, 2010
Cricket & Fishing
In the 'good old days' when you went to watch a county cricket match spectators were allowed onto the outfield during the luncheon or tea intervals. So it would be that young boys would scamper out onto the lush green surface with an oversize bat in one hand and a set of miniature stumps in the other and would play the game with their fathers, perhaps both dreaming that one day the boy would step out onto a pitch proudly displaying the emblem of county or country on his cap.
There was another ritual that would take place at this time. Groups of men, and it was always men, would stride out to the centre of the ground and congregate around the pitch itself. There they would stand, hands clasped behind their backs, and they would study the pitch: earnestly. Rarely would any comments be made or any other form of communication take place, except the odd finger that would point to a crack in the surface just in front of the crease to which the remainder of the group would either nod appreciatively or huff in disapproval.
I was reminded of this yesterday as I watched the early morning catch being hauled in by the local fshermen in Kovolam, a pleasant collection of small beaches and coves in South Western India. This is very much fishing in the traditional way, and the well honed routine was a joy to watch. Substantial rowing boats made of heavy lumber are pushed off the beach into the sea by a group of ten or twelve men. These open boats of thirty or so feet in length are then rowed out to sea by a crew of eight each using an oar that looks much like a piece of 4 x 2 with a dinner plate nailed to one end. It leaves behind on the beach one end of a rope and as the boat is rowed out into the bay this rope is played out until the nets that are attached to it are dropped into the sea as the boat scribes an arc in the water and returns to shore at the other end of the beach, the oarsmen rowing furiously in the final stages to get the boat up onto the sand.
The crew jump out of and make fast the boat and then they and the remaining men that were left behind on the beach split into two groups of around fifteen. Each group grasps one end of the rope and they start to pull the rope / net combination in towards the shore. This looks as though it should be hard work with maybe 800 metres of net to haul in, through water and surf, with hopefully a decent amount of fish contained within it. At the very end of the rope is someone we shall call the 'coilsman'. His job is to coil the rope as it gets pulled in by the rest of the group and to untie the knots where one rope is joined to another, so that the coils may be later carried back onto the boat for the next attempt. The remaining fourteen men haul in the rope by stepping backwards up the beach in unison, singing collectively as they do it, until the rearmost man reaches the coilsman and there he releases the rope and saunters to the front of the group and the process is repeated. It should be hard work but they make it seem almost effortless and there is no outward signs of exertion in the men. This is a well practiced routine and everyone in the group knows what his job is and the net gets pulled in relentlessly. With maybe 200 metres of net remaining three or four men enter inside the cordon of the net and start splashing and thrashing around to force the fish into the end of the net.
After perhaps 30 minutes of pulling the net is landed. Surprisingly, for the large numbers of men involved and the overall time taken of around an hour and a half to set the net and then to haul it in, the catch is maybe 30-40 kilos of mainly small fish. This gets sorted through on the beach and what is saleable is immediately sold. This leaves a small pile of very small minnows on the beach; something of the order of 3-4 kgs and for a strange reason, once the hullaballo is over men, and it is only men, stride over to the small pile of fish and with their hands clasped behind their backs study it: earnestly.
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