Coimbatore, Ponducherry, Chidambara

Coimbatore has nothing. It's described by the Lonely Planet as India's Manchester. It relates that to the textiles industry however secretly links them to the total absence of attractions. It's also lacking in a day bus to Ponducherry which meant that I had a long twenty four hour unexpected stop there.

That said two memories spring to mind. The first was hearing my door buzzer sounding just before midnight (yes I was staying in a half decent room). I answered the door wearily to see the hotel manager and three policemen. Now that starts the heart racing! The police then proceeded to interrogate me as to my name, where I've come from etc. All quite straightforward but not when you were getting ready to drop off to sleep. After a quick scan of the room they decided there was nothing unterward and left. It's quite common for the police to call on tourist rooms to check for bombs and drugs however I've never heard of it happeneing that late before.

Secondly it was the food. Coimbatore is the king of Indian cooking. On my full day I crammed in five full meals, in different places, just because it was so good. No more so than the small food stall whose mushroom kalaan went down an absolute treat (I ordered two plates). The Lonely Planet describes it as the best street food they've had in South India. Its the best street food I've had in the whole of India.

From there I finally made it to Ponducherry. Following in the spirit of Kerela, accommodation was an absolute nightmate. Why don't I learn and book ahead? Just when I was seriously considering moving to another town I got a spot in an ashram dedicated to the teachings of 'the mother'. Her face is everywhere in Ponducherry. It's a little strange.

Anyways to keep it short I probably could have left Pondy and felt I had seen the sights after my morning search for accommodation. Personally nothing about the place really stood out. The churches were grand but would not stop you in your tracks. The French quarter wasn't much to look at and the seaside part was more akin to Blackpool than India. I wasn't bored, nor was I dissappointed, it kept me relatively enteretained for half a day but I don't understand why so many people visit there.

On the second day I took a day trip and caught the bus for two hours out to Chidambara. The temple there is dedicated to Lord Shiva and from what I understood as his victory in a dance off. Quite wonderfully, I witnessed some people dancing their way in through the temple doors! The carvings and imagery were impressive as was the golden roof with 21600 tiles representing the amount of breaths we take in a day, but most breathtaking was the sheer size of the place. I don't know why it is so big but it's quite something exploring around whilst hearing peoples voices echo hauntingly around the complex.

The following morning I got to the bus station ready to leave but expecting problems. How to say Mamallapuram? I went up to the first conductor I saw. Drawing a deep breath I uttered the word that was causing me all sorts of problems. He pointed to the bus behind me. What luck! Two hours later I ended up in Maharajapuram. After getting off the bust to the bemusement of those around me I spoke to the next conductor. He explained how to get to Mamallapuram but his accent was so strong it was impossible to understand the place names. He volunteered to write it down for me. He didn't write it in English but looked very pleased with himself. In one mispronunciation I turned my easiest bus ride in India of two hours, into a six hour adventure.

Munnar

Just when I thought that I had seen the broad overview of India it threw up one more surprise. Looking out of the window of the bus was an absolute treat as I traveled through the hills and tea plantations of Kerela. It really was quite special. Straight out of a post card it is yet another wildly different scenery that India has in its armory.

It is with those views in mind that Munnar dissappointed. It is quite a grubby little town that detracts from the beautiful setting that it is a part of. My initial impressions were not helped by the amount of tourists from both India and further afield. Since arrving in India I have been fortunate to have been able to move from place to place, without a worry for accommodation. Since arriving in Kerela however its all change and I've been having a struggle to find budget rooms. Munnar was no different and I ended up joining a line of people heading towards a group of guest houses that offereed the only budget accommodation available. Luckily I got one of the last rooms for a decent price but it was unnecessary stress on arrival.

On the first day I took the time to go for a good fifteen kilometer walk. It was a pleasant stroll through the tea plantations but a bit restrictive in terms of the paths being private property so you were mostly road bound. On the second day I took a bus out to Top Station which is a superb spot promising excellent views over Tamil Nadu. Unfortunately by the the time I had arrived the clouds had rolled in. That said it seemed to be out of reach of most visitors being over 30km outside of Munnar and so I enjoyed several hours of peace and quiet amongst the company of a lovely older Australian couple. When you find quiet places in India you have to make the most of it.

As I left Munnar on the bus to Coimbatore, I was treated to more spectacular views. It was worth visiting for the bus rides alone, even if the excursions were a little disappointing. In hindsight I should probably have hired a rickshaw for the day to get around more of the area but the costs were a little steep.

And it was with that thought that I left India's second most popular state. I have to admit that with the build up it gets from some people I was a little disappointed. Sure it was scenically beautiful and had plenty of things to do but I couldn't reconcile the sheer volume of people. It just felt like you were on a continuous conveyor belt of tourists. Of course that was always going to be the downside of traveling through it during peak season but still it does detract somewhat. I think also in comparison to say Himachal Province or Rajasthan the sights in Kerela just feel that more established, that more polished. Unfortunately whilst that makes certain aspects easier it does mean that personally I felt it loses a bit of that Indian rustic charm.

Periyar Wildlife Sanctuary

How to do a wildlife sanctuary Indian style:

Step one

Awake stupidly early and wonder aimlessly down to the park entrance where you meet hordes of Indians and tourists battling at the ticket counter. It's elbows out and hope for the best as you attempt to secure your ticket before the main gates to the park open.

Step two

Either walk the four kilometers to the office where you book your boat ticket or share an autorickshaw with fellow tourists. If you choose the second option then be prepared to hold on for sheer life as the gates open and your rickshaw driver takes incredible pleasure out of racing his vehicle as fast as he can over the speed humps and through corners as he attempts to be the first rickshaw to the office. All the other rickshaws will also be taking part in the race, horns blazing. We came third.

Step three

Get dropped off by the barricade and then have to take part in a one kilometer race to the office. Fortunately most of the Indian visitors lack stamina so you'll reach the ticket man in good time. Hold the celebrations though because you may find out that you're at the wrong ticket office and on arrival to the one your supposed to be at you are a long way back in the queue.

Step four

Take part in another queue scramble as you attempt to get a ticket for the earliest leaving boat. Get frustrated by some late arriving locals who decide to work their way down the line attempting to negotiate someone else to buy them a ticket. Watch as the situation starts to get a little heated.

Step five

Finally with top deck of the boat secured, wonder down to the dock. Find yourself in the front seat and admire the wonderful scenery, if little wildlife, as a big group of Indian men attempt to make as much noise as possible.

It was an experience for sure. At 7:30am the boat finally departed and although the noise on the top deck at times was a little bit to much, it was on the whole a very pleasant two hours. Setting off early meant that the sun had only just risen and was attempting to break through the trees. A thick fog hung over the lake. It felt as if we were setting off into a new world.



As for animal sitings, I saw a mongoose, wild boar, wild deer and loads of birds. It wasn't perhaps the tiger or elephant extravaganza that some would have hoped for but I was prepared for that. Periyar is renowned for being the most popular park but people not seeing a lot. However the scenery was enough to make the trip worthwhile.

The boat trip was nice enough but the accommodation I secured made it all worthwhile. I stayed in a tree house with an incredible garden and only a couple of other unoccupied huts hidden away in the trees. Essentially I had the whole place to myself. It was separated from the road and the rest of the accommodation by a winding dirt track. Outside of total peace and quiet, the garden also had its own watch tower, which looked over the boundary of the park. From the tower I saw a family of wild boar and a mongoose climbing trees attempting to catch birds. I had already seen wild deer in Pushkar. Despite my enjoyment of the park the accommodation did make a slight mockery of it.

Kollam - Alleppey

There are few countries in the world where you can go for a nice relaxing backwater cruise in the day and then come the evening end up running as fast as you can, out of fear for your own safety. That's India!

I had arrived in Kollam a day before. It quite literally had nothing to offer but I needed some time to sort myself out. I had decided to do the Kollam to Alleppey backwaters trip. The backwaters are a 900km network of waterways that prior to roads were the way to get around in Kerela. They are still used today by the villagers and have become seriously big business to house boat owners and other package operators.



The cruise was a bargain. An eight hour trip all for five pounds. The downside with it is that it sticks to the major waterways as the size of the boat will not allow it to nip down the narrower canals. However it was very peaceful on the route and there was still plenty of local fishermen and village life to observe and enjoy. Oh and then there was the scenery. Palm trees were in abundance. It was beautiful. The major highlight came in the final hour. I like wildlife and have a few goals to achieve before I return to the UK. There is seeing wild elephants in Sri Lanka, visiting the Komodo dragons in Indonesia, watching wild crocodiles, maybe even swimming with sharks (just not anywhere near the man eating ones) and finding a snake in the wild. The latter has dominated my search in India. I've followed snake trails and found tons of snake skins bus alas had no snake sightings. That was until peering over the side of the boat I noticed one zig zagging its way elegantly through the water with its head perched high. It was a momentary glimpse as it soon disappeared into a crack in the rocks but it made me happy.

It's peak season in Kerela at the moment. That means it is busy and expensive! So I relied upon the random touts and hotel owners that hang around outside the boat jetty at Alleppey to help me find somewhere to stay. For some reason despite closer and nicer sounding places I went with Dil and his home stay in the middle of nowhere. I liked Dil, he had a real warmth to him (as do most of the locals I have met in South India). He told me that his village was having a party that night. Although it was over four km away I went with it. Unfortunately as lovely as Dil was the room and bathroom were a disaster however the rest of his village was something else.

It started with Dil leading me to the local 'hotel', then leaving me confident I'd find my way back in the dark. "If not ask for me" he proudly said, "everyone knows Dil!" Two massala dosas later (I was hungry and they were awesome) and I was staggering down dark alleyways and through peoples gardens (invited to of course). It was down one path that I encountered four kids play a game called carrom. They enthusiastically asked me to join them. I had only previously played it in Hampi and there I was terrible. Here however I dominated. I don't know what got into me but I was potting every go. Passers by stopped and admired the masterclass. They weren't used to seeing white faces in this village but were as friendly and welcoming as anyone could possibly be. Eventually, after an hour I departed the table thinking that my friendly host might be a little worried as to where I had got to.



Surprisingly a Portuguese couple had also fallen for Dil's honesty and politeness and were occupying another room. We sat around on the seats outside the rooms chatting as Dil frantically made phone calls desperately trying to find out when the party was happening. It was getting late after all! Eventually we gave up waiting for noise and made our way to where the village had emptied out onto the street. Candles lined the roadside and fairy lights hung from the shops. A bright green light shone lighting up a tree, which was the party center piece. Dil explained that the party was to celebrate a Hindi story based around an elephant going into the woods and coming out as a human. The way the village celebrates it is unique according to him.

But alas there didn't seem to be a party happening anytime soon. A further hour we stood around and waited. Bored and cold we weren't to enthusiastic. My general experience of Hindi festivals is that they are loud and nice enough to watch for five minutes but no longer. We had been waiting for over two hours. The crowd had made many an 'ohhh' sound reminiscent of home football fans attempting to put off a goalkeeper but there was no sign of anything materialising. But then as I was on my way to the toilets I turned around to see a sight that took me totally by surprise. Now I had imagined to see a child running into the tree in an elephants mask at the very most but instead I saw a fully gown elephant being engulfed by the crowd. I raced back to see what was happening. There was a long pause and a silence fell upon the crowd. Then out of nowhere people raced past the elephant and tore down the branches of the tree. They proceeded to jump, shout and race around the elephant holding the branches up high. In a totally sporadic outpouring of joy the crowd went absolutely crazy.




By this point the Portuguese couple and I were transfixed on the events taking place. We followed the elephant as it turned around and made its way into a narrow road. There two men held poles alight with fire. The villagers continued to celebrate around the elephant and the fire. Taking a step back from the manic proceedings I got talking to a guy around the same age. He was in the process of interrogating me as to what my name is, age, occupation etc when someone let off a box of fireworks and firecrackers directly behind us. Head in hands I ran as quickly as I could, I am honestly quite shocked that nothing hit me. However as it turns out that was the least of my worries. Before I knew it the whole village was dispersing in all sorts of directions. People were shouting, screaming and trampling on others. I looked at peoples faces and saw sheer fear. I assumed it was more fireworks and ran as quickly as I could. My heart rate hit new highs. As it turned out apparently elephants don't like being herded into a narrow street, surrounded by people waving tree branches and hearing fireworks, and had decided to go a little crazy. Fortunately the owners of elephants are absolute pros and share an unbelievable bond with them. Despite the momentary stamped it was soon brought under control with no apparent injuries. However it left a somber mood on the party as most people chose to head home rather than stay for the march up to the temple. Dil commented that the elephant "just isn't right" and walked back disapointed. From looking at the floor where the elephant had gotten momentarily out of control it was clear that it had been one very scared animal.

It was an incredibly scary few minutes and yet it was gripping. There was a atmosphere of fear and everyone was on edge, yet people just seemed so excited as to what might happen. We followed from a very safe distance once more as the procession headed towards the temple. However after taking another look at the elephant and the way it was responding we felt it best to leave and head back. I have no idea whether they got to the temple safely but I am quite sure that if I was to follow the news from that village over the comming years then at some point there is going to be a total disaster there.

The following morning I caught a rickshaw into town and got the next bus out of Alleppey. I look back on that day now in amusement. I had originally planned to stay in a home stay on the backwaters where I would have gotten to experience a more tranquil and slow pace life. Instead that got booked up quicker than I expected and I ended up in a home stay at the complete other end of the spectrum. It's another example of how things can change so quickly in India. It's what makes traveling there so enthralling.

Kochi

Fort Kochin is one island among a number. It's considered to contain the major sights and is a 3km ferry ride from the mainland. On arrival it's a different world. Most accommodation is in the form of home stays, each one looking as pristine as the next. Fashionable shops line the streets amongst the swish dining options. This is Kerela's Udaipur, filled with couples and people treating themselves. Predictably I was queuing up outside a working mans restaurant to eat a superb chicken biriyani with fingers! I'm getting the hang of that now! I did get into the spirit of things for breakfast though opting for French toast, with a drizzle of wild honey and assorted fruits. Oh and a Late. Get me!



Fort Kochin was an interesting place to visit for two reasons. Firstly tradition. On arrival I ditched my bags and rather then hitting the pillow I went to the waters edge to see groups of men operating huge Chinese fishing nets. There use dates back to the traders in 1400. It's interesting to watch them in operation but more fascinating in terms of the context that they are in. People throw crab lines off of the rocks. Others release nets from the beach. Small wooden boats pass the Chinese nets. All these people are fighting to get enough fish to earn a very basic living. Yet all this is happening as huge tankers exit the port, with towering office and hotel blocks in the background. It's India's problem first hand. How to continue to develope at a rapid rate without leaving behind the poorest in society. Currently it's not doing a good job as the gap between rich and poor increases.

It was also interesting because of religion. Walking around on a Sunday, I visited both St Francis's church and the Santa Cruz Basilica. Both were built in the 1500's. They are grand and imposing buildings with immaculate interiors. Seeing them mid-service was by far the best aspect though. Packed to the rafters, people were a number deep outside as well. When I had visited Mcleod Ganj and saw Buddhism in India, I noticed the total change in appearance and feel to the place. It is after all filled with people from Tibet. Looking upon Christianity in India I could easily have been attending a Hindu temple. Except I wasn't. It was a church with songs and readings. Later that day I visited the Jewish sector and the synagogue. Female Indian nuns queued outside waiting for its afternoon opening. It all felt very strange. It all looked out of place but the overwhelming feeling was one of admiration for how they follow their faiths. The importance and level of devotion that the Indian population dedicate to their religions is incredible.

Mysore

My journey to Mysore was an improvised one. I turned up at Gokarna bus stand resolute in my determination to leave but not sure if it would be possible. I was soon dispatched onto the 513 to a place I had never heard of and could not work out how to pronounce it. It turned out to be, without the accent, Kumta.

I only saw the bus stand but it was a little gem. It was the sort of place where everyone pauses and stares, children hide behind their mothers and scientists emerge to examine you. After confusion at the enquiry booth I sat down and looked at alternative options to Mysore. It was at that time that an Indian man, playing a version of 'Where's Wally' approached me. "Are you the one who is looking for a bus to Mysore?" he asked. What a miracle, in a bustling bus station he had found me, it's not like I stood out like a sore thumb or anything! I blindly followed him and ended up on an ultra deluxe bus, run by the local bus service. I don't think that I have ever slept so well on a local bus before.

By the time I had left the bus station in Mysore I had been invited to a silk shop (I let him down gently), been told my hotel had no bathroom or windows (it had both), that it was not safe to walk there (it took me ten minutes and was muggings free), and been offered a pair of kids sized shorts (they weren't my colour). It felt good to be back in India again.

I had envisaged Mysore as a bustling spice center with glorious colours and smells. It's got a small area where this is sort of evident but I think that it is time that it re-invents itself. The real reason to come to Mysore is to see the palace. After burning down in 1897, a stupid amount of money was spent on re-building it. Such is the incredible job that they have done that in my opinion it bats in the same team as the Taj Mahal and the Golden Temple. The grandeur design and attention to detail is something to behold.

Mysore also has quite a good zoo. The idea of visiting a zoo abroad is probably not that high on most peoples list of attractions however I find the two I've been to fascinating. The animals are almost a bonus and play second fiddle to people watching. Zoos are one of those places that feel very much like your at home but with the addition of hundreds of Indian families and groups it becomes so much more entertaining. I've never seen so many 'do not make noise' signs. I've never seen it ignored so many times either. This includes by the Park Wardens who drive around in trucks beeping their horns at will.

Mysore was a pleasant stop. I was glad that I only stayed one night as everything is in easy walking distance. It's a very manageable and inoffensive city with large green spaces and a relaxed approach. I get the feeling this is the norm across the south of India, with many travelers saying that it feels like a different country to the north. I'm starting to understand what they mean.

Gokarna

Gokarna, a place where I would set eyes upon paradise and be disappointed.

Traditionally it wasn't the smoothest of starts. Dumped in the middle of nowhere at 1 am in the morning and told to wait for a mini-bus to take us the rest of the way. All this was happening whilst Ian was suffering from a violent illness. So far I've managed to avoid the Indian tourist sickness. The abuse my stomach has taken over the years is seemingly paying off. In Hampi we had eaten all of the same dishes choosing to share a variety rather than stick to one. He got ill, I didn't. Success? When we finally did arrive all the accommodation was full. It wasn't the best of introductions.

But as always with India, when you're on a low, a high is soon to come (unfortunately visa versa as well). Out of the five beaches to Gokarna we had chosen Om Beach. Against a backdrop of a purple sky, the sun rose and illustrated to us that it was a fitting choice. Shaped like an om with two small beaches, rocks in the middle and enclosed by two cliffs it was a picturesque setting. Very limited accommodation hid amongst the palm trees. The sea was calm and warm unlike the waves and North Sea approach (come the end of our stay) to Arambol.

Despite the boiling hot temperatures and the beautiful setting that we were staying at, I didn't seem to manage to do any beach sitting. On two different days I enjoyed walking across the headlands, over the rocks and through the jungle to reach the other beaches. My first adventure took me to Kudle beach, which reminded me a lot of the Arambol set up and lastly to Gokarna's main beach. From a distance I lambasted the Lonely Planets negative description of it. The beach was huge and incredibly tempting. When up close I turned my attack on the Indian government and their education system. It was a trash heap. What a waste! Being a pilgrimage town, large numbers of Indian men danced around in the water seemingly blind and unfortunately adding to the disgrace that is Gokarna beach.

On the second day Ian had recovered enough to join me on a day excursion to reach the two more isolated and quieter beaches. Lost, the only way to our destination was off the rocks and scramble up a path onto the headlands. We later found out that a girl had died two weeks earlier, following the same path. It was a sobering thought to what seemed and in our case turned out to be safe had led to another person losing their life.

Half Moon beach was the first of our targets we hit. Very small and with only (from what we could see) one set of huts it was certainly isolated. I think if I was to come to Gokarna again it would be stay there, it had such a natural and peaceful feel to it. After as swim we headed to our most anticipated beach. I hadn't expected it to come on this trip but within an hour I had stepped into paradise. Paradise beach that is. It may have been nice there but it just did not match my expectations. I envisaged being able to play Robinson Crusoe not look back from the ocean to a wash of accommodation and restaurants. It just didn't seem right. Maybe it was exaggerated by the smallness of the beach but it just didn't sit with me. In total I managed five swims that day. A new record. It helped with the disappointment.

The food in Gokarna was a big let down. The restaurants had been overrun with Nepalese fever in terms of handing out menus that resembled novels more than a range of choices. Sorting through all the continental choices proved to be a guessing game in terms of trying to work out what they could cook rather than what you would want to eat. To summarise the situation was the menu at the Dragon's Cafe which seemed to provide the most consistent food. Under their seafood section on page 14 (slightly exaggerated) they offered the tantalising dish of, and I apologise to Mum and Gran for retelling this, 'boiled crap'!

I left Gokarna with mixed feelings. was it worth visiting? Certainly yes. Did I have a great time there? Yes! It is for the most part an incredibly beautiful area but I couldn't help but feel that it is being spoilt by its natives, its visitors and its sacreds. Seeing stacks of rubbish hidden in the rocks when you walked the headlands was a casing example of out of sight out of mind. Fires on the beach every night had left its toll on certain parts of the beaches and those incredible cows wallowing around in the days excreting everywhere was leaving its own scar. I suppose I longed to be the person that discovered Gokarna and with that frame of mind it was never going to carry me away like it does for so many.

Hampi

Nine hundred rupees to get from Goa to Hampi! Typical racket feeding off the New Year exodus from Goa. Whilst the destination may not have catered for getting back into real India the opportunity to do some local transport hopping certainly did. After much dilly dallying (how I love that phrase ever since it was used by an announcer pleading for calm at the Pushkar Camel Fair) I persuaded Ian as the merits of the planned route. The deal sealer was the sign that read 'India road safety month' as we entered the bus station. It started on that very day. How fortunate were we? Although I still think a month is a tad optimistic.

And so it was after one taxi, three buses, one rickshaw and a boat that we arrived at our accommodation. It came to a quarter of the price of a private bus and despite the numerous modes of transport it turned out to be relatively painless.

We stayed on Hampi Island, a small enclave of backpacker guest houses. Our hut came with a complimentary hammock and the food there was superb especially the lamb xacuti. The one downside was that it was full of boulderers. The opportunity to do some bouldering had initially appealed but it's amazing how quickly enthusiasm wains when all anyone talks about is bouldering. I can fully understand the passion of rock climbing but bouldering for months on end passed me by a little.

However you just had to get used to the Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles impersonators because Hampi is one of the bouldering capitals of the world. Quite simply boulders stretch as far as the eye can see. Some are even bigger than a two story house. Others sit precariously just itching to crash down on unsuspecting tourists. Coupled with the hills, paddy fields, flowing rivers and palm trees, Hampi is at the heart of a unique and captivating landscape.

The views alone would make Hampi a highlight but it's also a world heritage sight. Home to the 14th century empire of Vijayanagar, its ruins are spread far and wide. Some such as the Vithala Temple are clearly marked, whilst others such as gigantic stone Ganesh, monolithic bulls, crumbling temples and pillars are hidden treat waiting to be discovered as you clamber over the boulders and through the dense palm trees. On one day we walked for seven hours with no food and no stops, in unbearable heat, just in awe at all the random sights that we tripped over. Each one in its own right could demand a hefty admission price but there are so many that all but two you have to pay for. You could spend months just exploring and you still wouldn't see everything. Despite being very popular with tourists we found that almost every place we visited had at the very most no more than a handful of people. It made the stay even more pleasurable.



We saw so many incredible buildings and statues amongst the breathtaking scenary but two main sights stick in the mind. The first would be the climb up nearly 600 steps to the monkey temple. Clambering over yet more boulders we sat with many others in silence admiring the sunset over the boulder clad hills. No one spoke, everyone appreciating the beauty in their own way. The other event was at the Virupaksha Temple where I received the strangest of religious blessings to date. I had to pay two rupees for the privilege but this I did not begrudge and would happily have paid many more times over if I had had more change. Laxmi, the temples elephant is very well trained. You deposit coins or notes (but not one rupee, Laxmi does not accept that) into her trunk and then she passes it back to her owner before swinging her trunk and bringing it down upon your head. Outside of a good laugh, albeit sore head, I was skeptical as to its merits. However later on that day after losing my admission ticket I was given another by a random passer by. I then noticed it was illegible when passing it to the security guard but he did not notice. Laxmi was there with me, I was convinced.



Hampi was a superb stop. A real must see not just in terms of India but I am sure in terms of the world as well. It is to be seen to be believed. All it was missing was Fred Flintstone and various dinosaurs and we would have believed that we had been teleported back to prehistoric times.

Goa - Arambol

I had low expectations of Goa. The idea of it having been taken over by Russians, Israeli's and package tourists did not fill me with much enthusiasm. However in need of a holiday within a holiday and with Christmas and the New Year fast approaching it seemed to be the place to be.

I traveled down with Jamie and after a long haul of a bus journey we arrived in Goa in near monsoon conditions. It wasn't a pretty site. Our destination was Arambol. It was the place that the majority of people I had met who had been to Goa recommended. It seemed to still hold a sense of remoteness whilst also having enough there to entertain. After searching the beach we settled upon the beach huts on the cliff side. They were not made of much and we said a short prayer that the rain would not return as I doubted that they would offer much protection from the elements. They did however offer unrivaled views across the beach. The hut also came with two complimentary geckos. After my experience of sharing a shower with a salamander I was unsure about the arrangement but to their credit they were on their best behaviour and kept the mosquitoes at bay.

As the clouds subsided and the sun broke through, Arambol proved to be more beautiful than I could have hoped for. Outside of the huge beach and warm ocean the jungle that surrounded it was incredible. Being able to put the bags down and relax was a great feeling. So relaxing was it that it took five days to actually turn right out of my hut and visit the smaller beach some five minutes away. Enclosed by cliffs it was picturesque. Going for a dip in the freshwater lake with its volcanic base before sprinting over the boiling hot sand and diving into the ocean was something that I could never get bored of.



Going out on a scooter proved that I was wrong in my preconceptions of Goa. Sure there were lots of Russians and Israeli groups and the package beaches existed but so much of Goa has an untouched feel that in many ways is missing in much of India. With the roads relatively quiet, buzzing around on a scooter was a great way to explore many of its hidden treats. Predictably the police did get involved at one point, which resulted in a 100 rupees fine for not having a helmet. The lack of a scooter license was less of a concern for them. I got a slap on the wrist for that one! They then watched as the four of us attempted a hill start, with lots of traffic and worryingly for me, an upcoming sharp left turn. I wasn't very good at turning left. It felt like a driving test. I passed with no red or blue lights.

The setting helped but it was all the old and new friends that passed through that made the three week stay so enjoyable. Come Christmas and New Year we formed a group of around twenty which meant that life was never boring. With the ever entertaining meeting point at the delightfully named 'Mango Tree Beer BarChillout Resteraunt' the days would fly by in all sorts of directions.



For a number of days cricket dominated. With the Ashes being held in Australia it meant that timing wise it worked out well being in India with the games starting early morning. This always allowed at the very latest to be there for a good number of hours if not the full day. The one day that the cricket timings did not work out was for the final day of the fourth test. With a 5am start and with only two wickets remaining we pulled an all nighter so as not to miss us retain the Ashes. Unsurprisingly it proved to be a challenge to find a TV at that hour but as the saying goes 'everything is possible in India'. We ended up celebrating in silence, in the dark, outside a landlords bedroom where all the workers slept around us. It was a surreal moment.

When we weren't watching we were playing on the beach. It's amazing how quickly a gentle hit around can descend into madness as every Indian bar owner and worker abandons their business to join in. Their passion and competitiveness went far beyond what I thought cricket could generate.

Before I knew it Christmas had arrived. But in in many ways Christmas never did. Whilst it was a fantastic day it never felt like Christmas when hearing stories of the snow and the cold in the UK. That suited me just fine as I had wanted Christmas abroad to be a very different experience. It started with breakfast whilst watching dolphins playing in the ocean. After a festive swim we met up to eat steak in India before heading to Anjuna to party the night away. It was a great day.

The other most notable day was New Years. It was different from how I expected it to be in that I was not raving on a beach as I had always assumed Goa would involve. Instead I saw in the New Years at the Surf Club, with a live blues band, dressed in a quite simply horrendous kids designed Hawaiian shirt. Tom had been wearing one for a week in the lead up to New Year as part of a bet. In solidarity we all joined in for New Years thinking in the very least we would help that poor shop get rid of its disastrous stock of shirts. As it materialises it ended up buying in a lot more convinced that it had found the clothing that every tourist desired! The owner looked pretty chuffed with himself a few days later. With a good atmosphere and crowd it made for a memorable New Years. However typically midnight was missed as there was no Big Ben to play it in. Instead the only signal was some badly lit fireworks as the band kept on playing. Everyone checked their watches and tentatively said a Happy New Year unconvinced it was time. The party then continued long into the night. It seemed to be a recurring theme across Goa.

As always in India the food was a major highlight. On the whole the restaurants served up faithful replicas of continental food that allowed me to catch up on food that I had missed. There were more traditional treats as well. Fresh fish of all types were available to be haggled for before they were slapped on the grill. I lost count of all the fish I had but they included: white and red snapper, barracuda, baby shark, hammerhead shark, tuna and king fish. All were delicious but shark meat comes out top to my taste. The Goan specialties of the fish curry and vindaloo went down a treat. The latter was hot but unlike the English train crash the flavours were superb. Such was my enjoyment of the food that I did a cooking class with the ever entertaining Ahmed at the Indian buffet. Having cooked at the Taj hotel and for 15 days for Ricky Ponting of all people, the food he showed me how to cook was incredible culminating in a breathtaking display of how to cook all the dishes in half an hour. All you need is the base curry and after that you can rattle them off in minutes. Of course I ate every last spec on my plate which left me collapsed in a heap for many an hour. It came in at over ten plates. Now all I've got to do is remember how to do it myself!

I postponed my leaving date by one day but itchy feet meant that I could delay no longer. Arambol and everyone there provided for a great time but the simple fact remains that it is just not India. I longed to get back and experience real India, something that only three weeks before I had needed to rest from. It has that pull, when your in it you long for a break, when your out of it you can't wait to get back into the fun and games.