Just some pictures I took while I was resting up for a few days in the lakeside city of Pokhara after my tiring trek around the Annapurna Circuit. I ate pastries and drank hippie fruit juices, I stomped up to see the Peace Pagoda, I went to a short yoga retreat, and I thought and thought and thought about my life. And that's all folks! "I didn't expect it to be so touristy... and strange," admitted a person I was travelling with at the time. "It reminds me of Wanaka", she said, having lived there in New Zealand for a while. I had to calmly agree.
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Salaam Bombay! This post provides some assorted remarks on my visit to Mumbai, India’s largest city. I didn’t expect to enjoy this city as much, but I'm happy to report it's one of my favourite places in India. The history! The histrionics! The hardworking megacity hustle! Mumbai has all this and then some. Here is yours truly at the Gateway of India. It was completed in 1924 to commemorate the arrival of King George V, the first British monarch to visit India, in 1911. Originally a symbol of British conquest and power, it has now become perhaps the most famous tourist icon of Mumbai. Oh my. The relentless photography touts! The pigeons! The postcard and fridge magnet sellers! And don't forget the useless security checkpoint that was installed after the 2008 Mumbai terror attacks. O save us, British Raj! Come back and rule/ransack again! (Or actually, don't.) The photos below include my snaps of Marine Drive on a thankfully-not-too-smoggy day, the opulent Taj Hotel (where I had to go through a security checkpoint to sit at the Starbucks there), the handsome Rajabai Clock Tower and the homely Mumbai Stock Exchange, and the stunning Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus during the day and at night — undoubtedly the grandest train station building I’ve ever seen in my life. The old, austere British architecture of downtown Mumbai is wonderful to behold. That and how it contrasts with Mumbai’s frenetic energy (I was told that if you can cross the streets in Mumbai you can cross any street in the world). “Indo-Saracenic” is the name of the architectural style. It’s a fancy way of saying that the British architects who designed the power projection structures of the British Raj were partly inspired by local styles — with a bias towards India’s Islamic, as opposed to Hindu, aesthetic legacy (hence the dated term “Saracenic”). And below is a video of a very quiet, very relaxing morning stroll I took down Mohammed Ali Road in South Mumbai: But Mumbai can also be confronting for the uninitiated. I’ve seen plenty of rough stuff in India, but here it is starker. Homeless camps and small children in rags next to luxury cars. Some of the unhealthiest strays I’ve ever seen. Beggars on the streets, or outside hospitals and temples, with brutal disfigurements. The reality of this city thrills and, of course, the reality of this city also bites. One delightful discovery was the Mumbai “local” (i.e. the Mumbai Suburban Railway), one of the busiest and most infamously overcrowded commuter rail systems in the world. These are big, chunky industrial trains with completely open doors and windows for cheap ventilation. And they are dangerous! Official statistics put the number of deaths from trespassing the tracks and falling off the train between January and June 2019 at over 1,000 people. And that was apparently an improvement over previous years... I also got lucky and managed to accidentally snap a pic of one of Mumbai’s famous dabbawalas in action (the man in white with a cap) on one of the trains. Dabbawalas make up a complicated bicycle-and-rail lunchbox delivery system that has been feeding Mumbai workers since the 1890s. Old school Indian Ubereats. Another amazing aspect of Mumbai I was able to witness was the Dhohi Ghat — the world’s largest open-air laundromat. When I first saw it, I just stood there in wonder for ten minutes watching its microcosm of life and labour go by. I thought about all the countless inner worlds on this planet that I’ll never experience. Some other highlights of my trip to Mumbai included:
Speaking of food, Mumbai street food is a wonder. Friendly roadside vendors selling pure deliciousness for rock bottom prices? Yes, please. And not even once did I feel sick afterwards! Pictured below:
Don’t sell yourself short and avoid all the street food in India! If it’s a busy place, serving food out fast, and the stuff is fresh and vegetarian then I reckon your chances of avoiding the ol' ‘Delhi belly’ are good. But never forget it’s still a game of chance. Caveat vorator! (Eater beware!) However, Mumbai will be the first and last time I’ll ever try Indian Chinese cuisine. Like American Chinese food, it’s an adaptation of Chinese cooking to local tastes and has become its own unique culinary beast altogether. To quote Wikipedia on the ‘Manchow soup’ I had for lunch: “Although the soup is named after Manchuria it does not resemble any that is normally found in the cuisines of the region.” A more questionable thing I tried was paan. This is a sweet roll of betel leaf with chopped areca nut made for me by a grubby Mumbai street vendor for twenty rupees. Nicer than the betel nut I chewed in Taiwan, but its effects are the same: very mild psychoactive stimulation with a side of addiction and oral cancer for long term users. Definitely a sometimes food, not an always food. Now, I have two words for anyone interested in visiting Mumbai (or India in general): Indian sweets. Every day, while I was in Mumbai, I silently prayed to Vishnu, the great and holy preserver of the Trimūrti, that I did not have to visit an Indian dentist at the conclusion of my trip. I was thoroughly addicted during my subcontinental travels. Gulab jamun. Jalebi. Soan papdi. Peda. Mysore pak. Falooda. Just to name a few of my desserty discoveries. What am I going to do without them being readily available in my life? I’m deeply anxious about it. And on my final morning in Mumbai, I had a craving for a proper South Indian breakfast. Or more specifically, I had a craving for Tamil-style filter coffee, something which I thoroughly missed from the time I spent a few weeks prior in Chennai. Luckily, I found a place called the Madras Cafe in Colaba that served it extra strong, extra hot, extra sweet. Bingo. I also ordered a rava sada dosa without knowing what it was. Whoa. How did they cook this thing? Also, how do I eat this thing? Another filter coffee, please. I need another hit before catching my overnight train to Udaipur. Farewell Mumbai! Onwards and upwards.
This is Jodhpur, Rajasthan. The Blue City. The Sun City. Gateway to the Thar Desert. And just look at that thing looming above us! A gigantic fort dominating the skyline of the entire city. Holy moly, it’s like I’m in a fantasy novel. It’s genuinely breathtaking. Mehrangarh Fort — “The Sun Fort” I’m a bit gobsmacked a human-made structure like this exists. Visiting Mehrangarh Fort was definitely one of the highlights of my trip to India so far. It is a colossal, impregnable 500-year-old fortress of the Maharajas of Mewar. A brutal and imposing exterior with opulent royal chambers within. Pigeons and small green parrots flit in and around this desert titan. And it completely overpowers the skyline of Jodhpur's old, blue city. Rudyard Kipling, after visiting the fort, famously described it as “the work of angels, fairies and giants”. He’s absolutely right. Royal treasures from the Mehrangarh Fort museum collection The Sun Fort also probably has the best audio tour I’ve done in India. The tour was fascinating throughout, with a modest but carefully curated royal museum collection. The best “exhibit” was the sleepy old man with a hookah kit who let us sniff a tin of opium powder (still a favourite of rural Rajasthan despite its illegality). “Good for digestion, good for sleep, good for sex,” he told us. Blue, soothing Jodhpur Some chill, blue views of Jodhpur, Rajasthan. Forget about Chefchaouen in Morocco! Here’s an alternative travel destination for your azure-cerulean-sky-blue-Instagram fix. Jodhpur has a lot going for it (the food in the main market area is cheap and great) but it’s also one of the grungiest places I’ve been to so far in India. The trash problem seems worse. The stray dogs seem meaner. The scooters are a little more aggressive. Many streets are redolent of fecal matter and burnt rubbish, and open defecation (a perennial public health challenge in India) is more visible here than elsewhere. I’m not bothered very much by this kind of stuff anymore, but keep it in mind if you’re planning a visit! Additional Jodhpur highlights (1) The epic Toorji Ka Jhalra (Toorji’s Step Well) where the tourists come to take photos and the locals come to smoke ganja. Indian stepwells are the best. (2) Jaswant Thada, the marble cenotaph and cremation grounds of the Jodhpur royal family. Dubbed the “Taj Mahal of Rajasthan” and you can see why. (3) The bustling Sardar Market, which has excellent fruit juice, desserts, samosas, and a very, very good omelette shop. (4) The Mandore Gardens, located on the city outskirts. The former ancient capital of the Jodhpur State, the gardens contain the stunningly sculpted cenotaphs of various dead and forgotten maharajas. It was also completely free to enter when I visited — a rarity for such a peaceful, well-preserved heritage site in India. An addendum... Black cowboy hats seem to be all the rage for Indian male tourists in their own country. There are 'English Wine Shops' and 'German Bakeries'. Packets of instant noodles populate the shelves in little hole-in-wall convenience stores. Every shop seems to have the same bland Arial font for their storefront retail signs. As I walk past bored shopkeepers, they call out to me and try to guess my nationality. "Konichiwa!'" they say, "Ni hao!" Some even think I'm Nepali or from the North-eastern states of India based on my tanned backpacker's complexion. As my bus rumbles along the highway at night, I see Rajasthani men huddled around the fire with bottles, the only sources of light in the pitch-dark countryside. What stories are they telling each other on this cold desert night? FROM MY DIARY ENTRIES: This ruined expanse in the south Indian state of Karnataka was once the wealthy and powerful imperial capital of Vijayanagara, the “City of Victory”. At its peak in the 1500s, this Hindu city was said to be the second largest in the medieval world after Beijing. But the city was sacked by Muslim armies in 1565 and has remained abandoned ever since. Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains... DAY 1: I arrived via a bumpy overnight train from Mysore. This place has a bit of a reputation in India backpacking circles - namely cool ruins, hippies, bouldering, and very stoned people trying to climb large stones. On my first afternoon here, I checked out the Tungabhadra River, the Monolith Bull, the Achyutaraya Temple, and hung out with the local lads. I ended the day with one of the most spectacular sunset landscapes I’ve ever witnessed. It is a vast and mesmerising land of immense granite rocks, scattered as though the gods were playing marbles in ages past. A great evening and goodnight from atop Matanga Hill. DAY 2: I spent a full day cycling and hiking to sightseeing destinations around Hampi. It's certainly hard to know which pictures to select! See below for photos of Hemakuta Hill, Laksmi Narasimha Temple, Badavilinga Temple, Underground Shiva Temple, Hazara Rama Temple, the Royal Enclosure, Malyawanta Hill, the Saasivekaalu Ganesha, among others. During my explorations, I bumped into a lot of domestic tourists who wanted my selfie and to know where I was from, especially given my appearance. Unfortunately, a complex story (Chinese heritage, New Zealand citizenship, Australian residency, etc.) doesn’t cut it! I eventually caved and just lied and said I was from China whenever people asked. I finished day two by checking out the Virupaksha Temple near the local village, dedicated to a form of Shiva. It is believed to be one of the oldest functioning temple sites in India, being an active place of worship since the 7th century. Plus, the temple had some real head-banging trumpet and drum music going on as well when I visited. The temple elephant in the photo, by the way, is ‘Lakshmi’. Apparently, if you hand her a ten-rupee note she’ll give you a blessing with her trunk. Cutesy fun? It’s worth noting the welfare for these animals isn’t the best... It's also worth noting that the main Hampi backpacking strip is very Hindu, which mens there’s no meat or alcohol to be found anywhere. Or you could just ask for the ‘pollo’, which is code for chicken and get your meat fix anyway. Ha! DAY 3: Disaster! I was struck with travellers diarrhoea after (probably) eating a chocolate croissant that had been sitting out in the sun all day. This obviously meant no more cycling for me. Thankfully, I met an Indian-Australian traveller at the guesthouse who had hired a rickshaw for the day. So I was able to hitch a lift with him. Plus, he helped me sneak into the paid sites on an Indian ticket (40 rupees as opposed to 600 for foreigners)! I probably shouldn’t say that too publicly. Though, I have had many Indians tell me they’re opposed to the extreme third-degree price discrimination of tourist sites. Pictured: the stunningly beautiful Vijaya Vitthala Temple, more selfies with the lads, the Lotus Mahal and Elephant Stables. Videoed: an evening religious ceremony on the banks of the Tungabhadra which ended in fireworks. DAY 4: This was my final day in Hampi and it involved a cycling adventure north of the river! My newfound Indian-Australian friend and I hiked the 575 (or so) steps up Anjaneyadri hill to the supposed birthplace of Hanuman, the ‘Monkey God’ and servant of Rama. We made many hearty shouts of ‘Jai Shri Ram!’ (‘Victory to Lord Rama!’) and ‘Jai Hanuman!’ (‘Victory to Hanuman!’) on the way to the top. At one point on the climb, I was handed a banana, which I fed to one of Hanuman’s many primate subjects squatting on the rocks. I’ll drop in this over-worn quote now so I don’t have to repeat it in future writings: “In religion, every Indian is a millionaire.” The Indian countryside is also fascinating to cycle through. Bullocks ploughing the muddy fields. Piles of chillies drying out in the sun. Women (and it seems to be only women) singing and planting rice in the paddy fields. Kids coming up to you and asking for money for “school pens”. That's the way things are here. There is beauty, there is boredom, there is backbreaking labour, there is poverty, there is a continuity to life and faith on the land that has remained unbroken for countless centuries.
City of Shiva... City of ghats... City on the river Ganges...So after exploring one corner of Uttar Pradesh, I made my way to other. All the way to Varanasi! It is, without a doubt, the holiest city of the Hindu religion in India and, if the claims are to be believed, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities on the planet. 1. A sunrise boat ride on the Ganges Taking a sunrise boat trip on the Ganga was truly one of the most memorable early morning experiences I’ve ever had. To make matters better, I was hanging out with Indian visitors who were able to haggle for the local price, not the exorbitant foreigner one. It’s wonderful to travel a country with domestic tourists and experience how Indians explore their own country. Washed in quiet sunlight, Varanasi felt to me like a city that is simultaneously from another time and out of time entirely. Hindus come from all over India to Varanasi and other points along the river to pray and perform sacred rituals. Bathing in its waters is said to cleanse an individual of their sins and having one’s ashes scattered in it is said to bring them closer to breaking the cycles of death and rebirth. And as many of you know, it is also one of the most dangerously polluted rivers on the planet. I’m talking urban sewage, industrial chemicals, pesticides, and astronomically high levels of fecal coliform bacteria, among other ingredients. So unless it is part of your belief system, don’t dip your hands in the Ganges as I did! (The water is surprisingly lukewarm.) Life and death. Energy and slumber. Purification and pollution. What a wild place. 2. The Ganga Aarti at Dashashwamedh Ghat The must-see Ganga Aarti is a devotional ritual to the Goddess Ganga, the personification of the Ganges, conducted every single evening at dusk by Hindu priests on the river bank. The crowds were huge. The spectacle was highly choreographed. It managed to be both a deeply spiritual event for believers and a light-and-sound extravaganza for foreigners at the same time. There was fire. There was clapping. Hands flew up into the air and, regardless of whether everyone in attendance understood it or not, we were all shouting “Jai!” (“Victory!”) by the end. I was certainly thrilled. 3. A day trip to Sarnath Sarnath, an archeological site ten kilometres north of Varanasi and one of the four most important pilgrimage sites associated with the life of Gautama Buddha. Buddhists believe it was here that he gave his first sermon after attaining enlightenment. And check out that massive stupa at the heart of it all! That’s the Dhamek Stupa, which supposedly marks the exact spot where the Buddha first preached. Some real Big Dharma Energy right there. Terrible jokes aside, I found Sarnath a superbly serene place with monks and pilgrims chilling alongside their more basic tourist counterparts. I recalled the words from the Buddha's first sermon: “Unshakable is the liberation of my mind. This is my last birth. Now there is no more renewed existence.” Sadhu! Sadhu! Sadhu! 4. Foods of Varanasi I like food. Varanasi has food. It also has streets. Which have food. I like Varanasi street food.
5. A city of death Varanasi is a city of death. That is a fact. People come here to die in hospices and corpses arrive here to be cremated at the banks of the Ganges. All in the hopes of escaping the tormenting cycles of rebirth. My photo below is of Manikarnika Ghat, Varanasi’s main burning ghat, in a rare moment at dawn when there were no cremations. I passed through this site three times by foot (completely fine, as long as you don’t take photos), each visit less daunting than the last. On my first visit, I was guided through inferno by my own third-rate Virgil — a scammer-cum-guide who I tipped modestly. It was worth it, I think. The huge log piles. The open-air fires. The choking wood smoke. The barely tolerable heat. The endless sound of conflagration and axes hacking at logs. It’s hard to explain. My favourite lassi shop in the city is also in death’s firing line. As you sit there, drinking your mango/pomegranate/cannabis lassi, you can watch bodies being marched down to the river on bamboo stretchers every fifteen minutes or so. “Ram Naam Satya Hai!“ chant the bearers. “The name of Lord Rama is the truth!” And without God’s breath in a body, its truth disappears. I also spent time at Harishchandra Ghat, a smaller burning ghat to the south. Here I was able to watch the whole process (corpses being doused in river water, the priestly rites, workers adjusting semi-burnt bodies in the fire) without being bothered. But proceedings here were more amateurish. Goats wandered around the ghat. Stray dogs napped next to pyres. Kids bathed naked a few metres directly downstream from where the ashes were being dumped. The grisliest thing I witnessed was a dog that had snatched a piece of charred human bone from a smouldering pyre. He chased away another mutt, sat between some tired pilgrims, and began picking at the strips of flesh that still remained on the bone. No one cared. Things are different here. Truth be told, I became a bit clinical about all of it towards the end. But I’d like to think I gained a little wisdom from my visit. As for now, life (and its eternal counterpart) goes on. 6. Concluding with Varanasi Varanasi. Benares. Banaras. Kashi. Call it whatever you want. It’s a city of the ages that collects names, temples, pilgrims, holy men, mystics, scammers, druggies, and backpackers from all over the globe. White, dreadlocked hippies stoned out of their minds mingle with face-masked Chinese tour groups. What a place. What to see? What to photograph? Everything and nothing. Because Varanasi is all about motion — the motions of people, animals, rituals, flags, sunrises and sunsets. There is no obvious cynosure, no apparent focal point for your attention. Life drums on here and your awareness dances with it. The literal rat warrens of the old city with its maze of dead-end alleyways. GPS doesn’t work here. There is barely any mobile reception. Heaven forbid you asking for directions and then trying to understand them! Monkeys swinging on powerlines. Scooters vying for cobble-space with swollen bovines. Armed soldiers protecting temple entrances. Hand-painted shop signs reminding you that we can still make things with our fingers. What a place. As I currently write these words, I am sitting at King Khalid International Airport waiting for a connecting flight to Egypt. This place is the literal opposite of Varanasi and so much of India. Flat. Orderly. Quiet. New. Unbelievably clean. A motionless desert view. Though I think this might just be a restful interlude to even more chaos. The only way to find out is to board my next flight...
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AuthorMing is an economist, traveller, and creative writer from Melbourne, Australia. He’s a nebulous collection of particles on the lookout for a good corner to sit with a book and a cup of coffee. Archives
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