Ellora to Maheshwar

An example of a decorated truck

When we woke this morning I was feeling under the weather, to say the least. In spite of that though. we decided to do another big day of riding. It made sense at the time. When we got out of bed we discovered that the army was at on doorstep, sitting, chatting and generally not doing anything constructive. It turns out the prime minister's daughter was in town. That of course meant that she needed the army, the police and other plain clothed guys hanging around our accommodation. And they were armed to the hilt with everything from high powered guns to bamboo sticks. However, their lax attitude to patrolling the perimeter, like they informed us they should be doing, made me question ever wanting to put my safety in their hands.
As we rode out of our gated accommodation we got to see the full scale of the circus that had turned up to protect the prime minister's daughter and we were glad to be leaving.

Trucks in gridlock

Directing traffic

After about a hour on the road we came to a stop behind a massive line of trucks. Wondering what was going on we did what anyone on a motorcycle would do and rode to the front of the long queue. We discovered that the problem was simple: the road was too narrow for buses and trucks to pass each other. Considering their size we wondered if these vehicles should be on this road that plunges to a valley far beneath it or whether it perhaps would have been wiser for them to choose an alternate route. But, this is India. A dozen or so people had climbed out of their trucks to direct the traffic and, hopefully, prevent them tumbling off the cliff. The broken safety barrier told us that this was not always a successful venture. The makeshift traffic controllers did somehow create a gap big enough for Big Red to fit through, so we continued on our way for a short while before being stopped again by mor congested trucks. This theme of going around stopped trucks continued for the next half hour or so as lanes clogged with trucks trying too manoeuvre around tight corners. We felt like we belonged on one of those trucker shows...'world's most deadliest roads' or something.

Motorbikes can carry anything

We eventually got off the hill and onto quite a nice road with two lanes each way and a centre barrier. In spite of that there was still the occasional vehicle coming down the wrong side of the road. But we could keep up a good average speed.
Again, the road today was lined with far too many dead things, the worst of which included a dead cow that looked as though it had been skinned. Chris has a new tactic for helping me to avoid seeing these sights though. As we ride, we often point things out to one another. As we went Chris suddenly pointed to the left. I looked to find there was no unusual sights. Yes, there was a wooden cart being pulled by two bulls with painted horns, people cooking food in the street and other general mayhem but nothing out of the ordinary. When I questioned Chris as to what I was looking at he replied "nothing. There was a squashed dead dog on the other side of the road and I didn't want you to see it." What a romantic!

Too many

We also found ourselves pointing at unexpected sights today. Water! I grabbed Chris and excitedly pointed in the direction of a lake and gasped "water!" Chris' reply of "wow, that's pretty awesome" I think says a lot about just how dry it is here. Until now, the description Shantaram gave of people excitedly awaiting the first drops of the monsoon was difficult to believe. But, when you see people carrying water from a well in huge buckets on their head back to their home, and others using what little water they have just to settle the dust momentarily, it suddenly becomes a lot more real. I'd be excited for the monsoon too after barely seeing clouds for months on end.
We passed through numerous toll roads today, as we do most days, and made sure to make note this time of what they cost. Because we are on a motorbike we don't have to pay and, today only, we saved ourselves a few hundred rupees as a result. Thanks Big Red!
We rode into Maheshwar and I was not well. The long ride would have been tiring regardless but, with a sick tummy, it had not gone well. We settled on the first accommodation we looked at and it proved a great choice. Right near the fort, Hansa Heritage has mud rendered interior walls, cute painted detailing and coloured glass window panes all for the bargain price of 700 rupees a night. Finally! Clean accommodation is getting cheaper! We did however have to fill in a double-sided form each and then repeat the information into the reception guest book. Why they couldn't simply copy the information over was beyond us.
As we arrived in town, a new noise was added to the barrage that is India's sounds. A donkey braying. And finally Winnie the Pooh's character Eeyore's name makes sense!

Narmada River

With the evening quickly closing in we headed down to the Narmada River to watch pilgrims by the ghats. Shiva linga and their accompanying bull statues were absolutely everywhere. As were actual bulls for that matter.
Once back at our guest house we were informed that they like to put motorbikes inside at night so after they had done 'working' (i.e. sitting around, sleeping, talking loudly and watching TV) Chris needed to go down and ride Big Red up a rickety, little, narrow ramp and inside. I think they normally push bikes up this ramp because he got some strange looks when he started Big Red and rode up.
Because I wasn't feeling well, Chris was left to venture out again and be photographer all on his lonesome. He went back to the ghat at sunset to capture the happenings. On the way back he went in search of some food and quickly realised that this town has a serious lack of eateries. Other tourists were having the same problem. When he returned to share the bad news and I dragged myself out of bed to accompany him back to the one 'restaurant' he thankfully did manage to find. I ate a couple of bites of some sweet and sour spicy noodles while we chatted to a lovely French couple and Chris awaited his thali, which was being prepared elsewhere for some reason. The French couple were having similar issues with India to us. The noise! So it was nice to know we weren't alone. As Chris' thali arrived my stomach could no longer bear the smells of India. I have complete sympathy for how poor Mum must have felt with the smells of Morocco when she was sick. I retreated to our guesthouse and left Chris, again on his lonesome, to finish both of our dinners.

Narmada River

Ajanta Caves: A Day Trip

We woke this morning refreshed and ready to roll. In fact, I woke up feeling at home for the first time in a long time. I had even forgotten that we had plans for the day.

After failing to find breakfast in Ellora we rode for a while before stopping, pointing at a wok and enjoying another couple of deep fried potato cakes in bread rolls along with the standard chai. The multipurpose chai did a great job at warming up Chris' frozen hands too. It is chilly here. Even with our wind proof jackets on we felt the bite of the weather.

It did warm up though and we found Ajanta Caves with little difficulty. When we had visited Ellora yesterday we had been surprised, and elated, to only be harassed by a few touts and wanna-be guides. It was actually quite pleasant. So when we arrived at Ajanta we were expecting a similar deal.

We quickly realised that in an attempt to make a buck, the Ajanta Caves people had blocked off the entire site forcing you to park your vehicle in their specified area. It was 5 rupees so we weren't too bothered. Yet. We went to pay but were instead asked for 25 rupees. Apparently that would cover the shuttle bus to get us from the carpark to the caves. Again...ok.

We were ambushed and hustled through a maze of shops selling everything from hats to torches to batteries as well as the usual Indian crappy souvenirs. We emerged dishevelled after fighting off salesmen who are very good at standing in your way, holding out whatever product they would like you to purchase.

We showed our tickets and went toward the bus. As we went to board we were stopped and asked for 40 rupees. Confused, I showed the man our "bus ticket" and he quickly pointed out that it was indeed an "amenity ticket" only. To cover the maintenance of the grounds. Not ok.

Washing

Yes, we realise that 40 rupees is the equivalent of less than a dollar. But it was the manner in which the whole process ran that bothered us. And, what bothered us more, was that it is so typical of India. We were asked for money at a bunch of different points for a bunch of different things. Never was there a sign to say that the money you spend will not actually get you to where they say it will get you. Quite the contrary. The only sign we saw was for the 5 rupee parking. We were annoyed. Annoyed by the man who told us the extra money we paid was for the bus. Annoyed that the additional bus fee we were being asked to pay was only one way. Annoyed that the site had been designed so that you, even if you wanted to walk the 4km to the site, could not pass through without paying an amenity fee and being funnelled through the darn markets. It was all about the money and not about the beauty of the site itself.

After riding 100km to reach Ajanta we refused to pay the 40 rupees for the bus and decided we didn't want to pay the 500 rupees it'd cost us to see the caves at all. Ancient frescoes? Meh. Who needs 'em?

Entrance to Ajanta

On our way to the Ajanta Caves parking area we had spotted a huge fort looking structure so we decided to spend our time exploring it instead. And boy were we pleased with our decision.

We rode through the huge fort gate and into the tiny village of Ajanta. Goats and pigs ruled the road, kids played, decaying houses were painted perfect pastel colours, every door to every home was wide open and people simply went about their day. Until we rode past of course...then everything stopped. And if we thought we had created a scene then we need only wait a few minutes to see real mayhem.

We parked the bike back outside the fort walls and decided to explore the village on foot. It's amazing the different ways people acknowledge and communicate with each other when a common language is not an option. An elderly man looked at me and whistled with his fingers in his mouth. I did the same, returning his whistle, his hello. I was rewarded with a grand old head wobble.

One child started following us. Then another. Then another. A mob formed. They smiled and laughed and followed us up and down the street demanding photos then money. When I turned it around on one of them and asked him for rupees, he pulled 10 out of his pocket. These kids were no real threat. Unlike the ones we had been told about in Nasik, working as a team to rob Westerners, these kids wanted a laugh, that was all.

Ajanta caves

We left the village and rode towards the Ajanta Caves viewpoint. We followed a sign five kilometres down a deserted road through tiny villages and cotton farms. Again, the animals ruled the road. When we arrived at the viewpoint, were the only ones there, had access to toilets and didn't have to pay a cent, we were pumped. We had glorious views of the horseshoe shaped gorge and the caves cut into the rock face from the point where to British had rediscovered the caves all those years ago.

We were directed down a large set of stairs which took us in the direction of the caves to yet another viewpoint which, during the monsoon, would be stunning. Today, the river was dry, the waterfall wasn't running and the glorious green landscape was dusty and brown. Still, a pretty marvellous site. We ventured down further and found ourselves heading straight for the caves. Could it be? Would we get in for free? Could we actually beat the system? No.

We got to within metres of the caves before being stopped at a gate by security asking for our tickets. Bugger. While we could have simply wandered around to the ticket office and bought tickets, we were happy with what we had seen already. And even happier that we had found a tiny area of quiet from which to view the normally noisy caves. Back up the mountain of stairs we went.

Road side lunch

We grabbed a delicious roadside lunch which included India's version of bruschetta: crispy papadams loaded up with chopped tomato, red onion, herbs and chilli powder. So good.

We rode back into Ellora about 3:30pm and settled in for a quiet afternoon of planning where we would head next. Rajasthan? Gujarat? Too many options.

 

Entrance in to Ajanta

 

Nasik to Ellora and the Ellora Caves

Cave 10, ribbed ceiling and Buddha

Cave 5, possibly an assembly hall

Thanks to the world's loudest dogs we had a very broken sleep. With the dogs barking on and off from 4am, it wasn't too hard to drag ourselves out of bed. It's not like we'd get any more sleep anyway.
We hit the road and were surprised by how chilly it was. To get onto the main road Chris took us on a nice shortcut through some kind of tent city where we spotted our first camels. People went about their usual morning routines of teeth brushing and hair combing having emerged from tents created from a mish mash of tarps, sarongs and whatever else was laying around.

We stopped for a glass of roadside chai to warm up and felt like superstars as seemingly the entire town came out to watch us sip our tea. I'm talking more than thirty people standing around staring. Having livened up their morning, we continued our journey. Not much further down the road another stop was in order, this time for breakfast. We crossed our fingers that the sun would warm up while we ate.
The amount of English being spoken has decreased significantly as we've moved North. And, unfortunately, our Hindi, Tamil and Arabic have not improved. So, when the man at breakfast spoke to me in a language I didn't understand I nodded. When he spoke again, I nodded again. And we ended up with a potato mix (that looked like it belonged inside a samosa), battered and deep fried (like everything in India) and served with a mini white bread roll. Thanks to some prompting on the staff's behalf (grabbing Chris' roll, ripping it open with his bare hands and thrusting the potato patty inside) we figured out what the heck we were supposed to do with it. They love the white bread up here. In roll form and bread form. They especially enjoy stuffing it with things, battering it and deep frying the whole lot. Deep fried sandwiches. I never thought I'd see that.

Lauren and Buddha

We passed through a very agricultural India today where the number of bull drawn wooden carts seemed to triple.
We road into Ellora around lunch time, checked into Hotel Kailas and headed straight for Ellora Caves, picking up some more deep fried snacks on the way. After paying the inflated tourist price to enter the caves we sat under a tree to enjoy our snacks.
We wandered down to Cave 1 to begin the long exploration and I acted as tour guide, once again proudly reading from my giant Lonely Planet.
World Heritage Site-listed, Ellora Caves are made up of 34 caves, each carved using a hammer and chisel over five centuries by generations of Buddhist, Hindu and Jain monks. The first twelve caves are Buddhist so we spent a fair bit of time sitting on Buddha's lap. The next 17 are intricately carved Hindu caves and the final five are Jain.
From Cave 1 we walked slowly to let the raucous locals overtake us and were rewarded with a quiet look around these fascinating structures.
Some of the highlights included the Cave 10's double-height ribbed ceiling, Cave 12's huge courtyard (keep in mind every bit of stone was removed by hand) and the triple storey structures. The most famous, Kailasa Temple was, not-surprisingly, incredible.
We hiked up a path which took us to where we could view the entire temple complex of the Hindu Kailasa Temple. Taking 150 years to complete and requiring the removal of 200, 000 tonnes of rock (while making sure they left the bits they would later intricately carve) it really was beautiful and quite a feat of engineering.
To get to the Jain caves we snubbed the Tuk Tuk drivers and instead hiked along a path and hoped for the best. It led us to the right road so we could have a quick look around the last five caves. By this stage we were admittedly pretty hot and bothered after riding all day and walking through cave after cave so we were happy to be heading back to our relatively close guesthouse when we did.

Chris and Buddha

Lauren and Buddha

Cave 12's courtyard

After showers, we decided to do the social thing and went outside to chat with our neighbours. And we were sure glad we did. Out of all of the people we could have chatted with during this trip, these guys were fascinating and very knowledgable. Two brothers from Florida who were devout Hindus but, more specifically, devotees of the God Shiva. They were in India on a religious pilgrimage visiting Shiva sights and knew a lot! They filled us in on the background stories of Hinduism and many stories specific to Shiva. Of particular note was the story of why the town of Nasik is considered holy and, having just come from there, was extremely interesting.

Riding Nandi (Shiva's Bull)

Kailasa Temple

Considering they meditate for 6-8 hours a day, we were lucky to get a chance to chat with these guys. And, because they spoke Hindi and seemed very knowledgeable, we took the chance to clarify a few things. Why are cows considered holy? What are those white sailor hats the older men wear? What does Om Sai mean?
Our conversation moved between the big issues: religion and politics. They quickly informed us why America will be better off once Obama is out.

Bats

These are a few things they told us about...
- They saw a guru walk through a wall in response to the question "what does it mean to have oneness?"
- They, and 18 other witnesses, saw special ash spontaneously forming on photos of their guru in their house and, when collected into jars, rapidly forming on the outside of the jars also. By morning...it had disappeared.

Chris' mates

- Before coming to India one of them had a dream about a saint lady they did not know. They came to India, went to a temple, saw her photo, looked her up. She meditates for 14 days straight then 'comes out of it' for two days to eat, drink and see her followers. She had done so only two days before their arrival so they were told there was no chance they could see her. They sat and prayed for 8 hours and she miraculously decided to give 'darshan' and they were able to see her. In fact, she asked to see them twice. But, of course, she doesn't speak so she communicated through her boys.
- They said, turning your back, and exposing your chakras, to some particular lingam (shaft shaped structure representing Shiva) will make you pass out if you're close enough to it because of the great energy it exudes.
- They said, some people can calmly sit down and die at will. And, if you are there you can see their soul evacuating through their head causing heat (thanks to friction) strong enough to make their hair fall out
- There is a lingam that puts out so much energy that you can lean toward it and not fall over

One of the Jain temples

Mumbai to Nasik

The Taj. While Crows were enjoying our breakfast

We went over to Hotel Goodwin this morning for our final rooftop brekky. After getting a couple of large plates of food, I went inside to search for tea and Chris went in search of the perfect photo of Taj Mahal Palace. Our breakfasts suffered as a result. Crows. They especially enjoyed the eggs, dragging them off our plates and onto the table and chairs. When I returned and questioned Chris as to whether the breakfast was still edible he promptly replied "the crow was in my food."

Shanty town

With two new plates of Indian meets Western brekky cuisine, we sat back and relaxed. It was then time to check out and hit the road.

Big Red was eager to depart after a few days of rest and recuperation in Mumbai. He got us out of Mumbai with only a slight detour.

We passed countless shanty towns that seemed about to fall in on themselves. Tarps, corrugated iron and other rubble is piled high into a semi liveable state.

The journey to Nasik was relatively uneventful. We stopped once to get some petrol and once again to check out an abandoned village and to rest our bums.

Abandon buildings

India in a nut shell

We rode into a busier Nasik than we had anticipated and hence tried to locate some accomodation on the outskirts of town, away from the hustle and bustle. We found Sai Prem down a side road and settled right away. The other places we had tried had been fully booked probably due to there being a wedding around every corner.

We unloaded Big Red and headed into town to find the holy river of Godavari and the bathing ghat Ramkund. We found it alright. But I was just not in the mood. Every stare, every lazy sales person, every comment was getting right under my skin. We left, grabbed some samosas and headed home so I could cool down.

Ramkund Bathing Ghat

Bathing, Ramkund

Second attempt at the ghat: with me feeling a little more normal, we ventured back to the river and were very pleased we did. We sat amongst the pilgrims as they bathed in, drank and splashed the holy water over themselves. Floats of flowers and candles were set sailing across the water as children were dunked against their will. It's nice that, when you sit for a while, people seem to forget you are there. They forget trying to sell you things and go about their day and you are rewarded with a close-up view of Indian life.

Nasik Market

We followed a loop around the ghat then ventured through a bustling fruit and veg market. Encouraged by the stall owners we captured the goings on and then purchased some of Nasik's famous sultanas.

Giant Pumpkin, Nasik Market

We arrived home and decided to eat at our guesthouse restaurant. They had moved all of the chairs and tables outside into the garden but had no lighting. We were encouraged to go and sit in the dark, being told we would need to wait only 10 minutes. For what we were unsure. 15 minutes later we got sick of being eaten by bugs and went inside. We made a dinner order at reception and headed back to our room to wait the specified 15 minutes for dinner. Working on India time, we went back downstairs half an hour later and asked if we could possibly sit inside. Two guys quickly jumped to attention bringing one table and two chairs into a large empty room. Those plastic chairs were just not good enough though apparently so a manager curtly told them to fetch the cushioned, material-covered chairs for us. We were even given a plastic table cloth which may or may not have been dirtier than the table it covered. Before we knew it we had five guys working to get our dinner sorted. It's like they had waited for or arrival to actually start cooking. Out came our order (sort of) plus a bunch of other accompaniments that we had not ordered nor ever seen before. It was tasty though. And entertaining.

As the noises coming from the street made sleep impossible we decided to do a little research. Per square kilometre, India has 383 people. That may not sound too ridiculous but keep in mind, New Zealand has 16 and Australia has, wait for it...3. No wonder we're having trouble adjusting.

We also found a blog which pretty much mirrors our experiences. It talks about the non-stop noise, escaping it overnight on the Keralan houseboat and going in search of silence on a camel safari in Rajasthan. Sadly, this blogger didn't find silence, even in the deserted desert. Fingers crossed we have more luck.

Dinner

Ramkund Bathing Ghat

 

Mumbai: Girguam Chowpatty to Banganga Tank

Rooftop breakfast

Hand sewn postal packaging

Valentines Day buffet breakfasts on a Mumbai rooftop...we could get used to this.

We had a mission this morning. To post our parcels that we failed to post yesterday. We aimed for Mumbai's main post office thinking that there, of all places, this task would be a breeze. You'd think we would have learnt by now.

We wandered through the streets toward Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus knowing the post office was located nearby. While we did find it pretty easily, it took some keen spotting as, like yesterday, it was quite hidden. After having our bag searched and signing in at the entrance while locals wandered past us, we were accosted by a man wanting to help us. We knew he'd be getting something out of helping us...we just weren't sure what yet. After getting the point across that we wanted to post our things as cheaply as possible, and finding out that sea mail has been "cancelled" (whatever that means), we were led around the giant room. We began at the registered post area where we had one parcel weighed. We were then taken to the speed post counter and were given a customs declaration form and finally, we were led out of the post office, across the road dodging traffic and to a tiny table on the roadside. This is where our things would be "packed." As if it was the most normal thing in the world, out came a needle and thread.

The man wrapped our parcels in linen before hand sewing them into tightly packed bundles. He then tied our rolled up customs declaration forms and tied them to the bundles, had us write the postal addresses in marker on the linen and sent us on our way.

Back at the post office our bundles were weighed, had stickers stuck to their material exteriors and that was that. Nothing is as it seems in India.

We then began the hike towards Marina Drive to check out Girguam Chowpatty (a toxic looking 'beach') that is lined by crumbling, old, charming apartments. It was hot. Really hot. The young couples in love who lined the promenade didn't seem to mind as they canoodled (well, put their arms around each other which is a pretty big deal over here) in the sun. Mumbai, despite being about half way up India, is humid. Chris, carrying the backpack, felt it soak him to the skin.

Celebrations

We passed what we believe were wedding celebrations where people danced, played music, surrounded a guy on a horse and enjoyed the catered plates of food that waiters provided as they made their way down the road.

We stopped for a break in the shade of a tree. Just as we went to leave...bird poo. In my hair. Chris gagged as he wiped the giant mess up with a tissue. How romantic.

A man, an instrument, a cow in a robe

Banganga Tank

We continued in the heat round through the fancy suburb of Malabar Hill and around to Banganga Tank. We were unsure where we were going as we walked through alleyways of steps enjoying the peace and quiet that a lack of cars brings to an area. We found the tank and ventured down to check things out.

People prayed, people bathed, people did laundry, geese and ducks swam, dogs lazed around and children played. The action was centred around a large, rectangular body of water surrounded by steps on each side. Chris made a new friend while I dangled my feet in the cool water.

After finally finding our way out of the maze of alleyways surrounding the tank the heat was too much and we found a taxi to safely return us to Colaba.

We had a lazy afternoon, took advantage of the 24 hour hot hot water then went out for a Valentines Day dinner. Note: aloo palak is not a favourite. Rose lassi however, is a favourite.