Commandos from Andaman & Nicobar Tourism may hunt me down for wikileaking the following supersecret, but I live dangerously:
Havelock Island, two hours by ferry from the regional capital Port Blair, receives the lion's share of tourism - mostly related to scuba diving and snorkelling. In spring/summer 2010, the sea temperature around Havelock Island increased enough to seriously mess with animal habitats. Aaaaand, another side effect of the temperature change was that all of the coral above 20 metres was bleached... what was vividly multi-coloured for many years is now pale brown. Yuck. Andaman Islanders are doing a good job of keeping the news hushed up, but word will escape soon enough, and scare away some tourists. What a bummer for snorkelling! It's like watching tv in black and white. Ah well, more time for lazing in hammocks on empty, white sand beaches. I handled it with cool grace.
Nine days in the Andamans was not enough - doi oi! I strongly urge friends and well-wishers to visit, even though it's extremely awkward for North Americans to get there. I particularly liked Neil Island, though perhaps I'm overly influenced by the weather - our 2 days on Neil were a remarkably sunny escape from this plaguey rain and drizzle. Begone already!
We flew back to Chennai on the 15th and skipped straight over to Mamallapuram (Mahabalipuram), two hours down the coast. What's with every place in India having multiple names? When it's not confusing, it's just exhausting. Here's a sample conversation that never happened, but could've:
Me: I'm going to Kochi. I would like to book a train.
Some guy: Where?
Me: Kochi
Him: Ohhhh Cochin
Me: Yeah whatever, so how about that train?
Him: Well, the train goes to Ernakulam, not Fort Cochin.
Me: Yes, I know. But I didn't say Fort Cochin, did I? I said Kochi. And you damn well knew what I meant.
Mamallapuram is so-so. Last night we ate dinner with a nice Polish couple who were really excited about the 'good shopping' in this town - whaaa? To my untrained eye, it's all overpriced (Kashmiri textiles), heavy/expensive (massive stone carvings), or something I don't want (jewelry, clothes, etc)... Later, Ben commented that he'd be happy to buy shit, but there is never anything worth buying. Indeed - where are the joke t-shirts? The Shore Temple was underwhelming, which is mildly embarrassing as I'd been hoping to take credit as its founder/builder/namesake. It's one of the sites in India that has been roped off by the Archaeological Survey of India, for which foreigners are required to pay Rs 250... um... roping fee? Thanks for nothing, ASI! There's another temple complex behind the bus station that looks 1. free and 2. better than the Shore Temple. It's on the roster for this afternoon.
Tomorrow we return to Chennai to catch an overnight train to Kochi/Cochin. I can't wait to see the mumsies and dadsies! I get a kick out of meeting familiar folks in strange settings. It's disorienting in a nice way. In Chennai, we dearly hope to catch a screening of the new Tron movie. We remain nerds in faraway lands.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Island Life
Nuff people say, you know they can't believe,
Jamaica, we have a bobsled team.
Ahh, sorry - I can't enjoy island life without fondly remembering Disney's brave bobsled heroes. The (only) difference between them and me: upon my return to Canada, I will not be competing at the 1984 Calgary Olympics. But not for lack of trying!
Since my last post in Hampi, I've been a real lazy shit regarding the blog. Every time I go online I fully intend to write something, but then get distracted looking up Sass Jordan on Wikipedia or laughing at pictures of -40 winter on Facebook. So it goes. I've visited Bangalore, Kochi/Cochin, Varkala, Alleppey/Alappuzha, Kumily, back to Kochi, flight to Chennai, met up with brother Ben, and flight to the Andaman Islands. Here are some delicious highlights of the past two weeks:
- beef curry in Kerala - first beef in India!
- 24 giant prawns in one sitting
- finally figured out how to eat a pomegranate without making a huge mess
- learned to love masala dosa, yum!
Ben and I touched down in Port Blair, the only proper city in the Andaman Islands, yesterday morning. We bought hammocks, stocked up on cash, ate breakfast and took a ferry to Havelock Island. I'm waggling my fingers over the keyboard - how to describe? Let's just say I'm incredibly happy that we decided to come here. The rain that's plagued me for the past week finally cleared up today as we splayed our lily white bodies out on Radhanagar Beach. Ben starts his open water scuba certification course tomorrow - I'm tagging along to snorkel. In four or five days we're planning to switch to neighbouring Neil Island. The Andamans seem to be a real honeymoon destination for Indian tourists, which I find cute but highly irritating, as I miss Ian terribly.
My posts here will have to remain relatively short, as the internet is slow and expensive. Coming next time: stay tuned for guest blogger Ben Skye Shore!
Jamaica, we have a bobsled team.
Ahh, sorry - I can't enjoy island life without fondly remembering Disney's brave bobsled heroes. The (only) difference between them and me: upon my return to Canada, I will not be competing at the 1984 Calgary Olympics. But not for lack of trying!
Since my last post in Hampi, I've been a real lazy shit regarding the blog. Every time I go online I fully intend to write something, but then get distracted looking up Sass Jordan on Wikipedia or laughing at pictures of -40 winter on Facebook. So it goes. I've visited Bangalore, Kochi/Cochin, Varkala, Alleppey/Alappuzha, Kumily, back to Kochi, flight to Chennai, met up with brother Ben, and flight to the Andaman Islands. Here are some delicious highlights of the past two weeks:
- beef curry in Kerala - first beef in India!
- 24 giant prawns in one sitting
- finally figured out how to eat a pomegranate without making a huge mess
- learned to love masala dosa, yum!
Ben and I touched down in Port Blair, the only proper city in the Andaman Islands, yesterday morning. We bought hammocks, stocked up on cash, ate breakfast and took a ferry to Havelock Island. I'm waggling my fingers over the keyboard - how to describe? Let's just say I'm incredibly happy that we decided to come here. The rain that's plagued me for the past week finally cleared up today as we splayed our lily white bodies out on Radhanagar Beach. Ben starts his open water scuba certification course tomorrow - I'm tagging along to snorkel. In four or five days we're planning to switch to neighbouring Neil Island. The Andamans seem to be a real honeymoon destination for Indian tourists, which I find cute but highly irritating, as I miss Ian terribly.
My posts here will have to remain relatively short, as the internet is slow and expensive. Coming next time: stay tuned for guest blogger Ben Skye Shore!
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Very Hampi to Meet You
No, I haven't read Shantaram. I don't want to borrow your copy of Shantaram. I'd rather give Yann Martel one of my kidneys - a highly unlikely event. Call it spite, pigheadedness, or good taste: I'm never going to read Shantaram.
As it turns out, I succeeded in driving my motorbike into the ditch; minimal injury and maximal embarrassment. My revised plan is to buddy up with more competent drivers... small scooters have room enough for two people, or a family of eight, depending on your approach.
Yesterday I hopped on with a friendly Irish fella and spent some time at the Sanapur Reservoir, jumping 8-10 metres off giant boulders into the lake. Sweat-free for a precious few minutes! Apparently the "no swimming" and "beware crocodiles" signs were just for show. If only every destination allowed tourists to jump off tall things into cool, predator-free freshwater. Alas.
The town of Hampi is nestled within the ruins of Vijayanagar, a once-great Hindu empire. I think the main city was home to some 500,000 people at its peak. The big draws, with good reason, the Virupaksha Temple and Hanuman (monkey god) temple on Anjanadri Hill. I quite liked the monkey temple, but scootering around the countryside is the best part. Enormous mounds of pink boulders balanced precariously all around. Rice paddies. Lazy rivers. A healthy portion of emptiness. I wish I could describe the visual combination. It's otherwordly.
It's hard to find a place on the backpacker circuit that enjoys unmixed, all-positive reviews. Hampi is one of those rare places that everyone likes. Seems that Mysore has a similarly good reputation - good news, as it's on the itinerary for the Shore Family Jam Band's Christmas tour.
Bangalore in a couple of days. (My next post will be rich with wisdom pertaining to e-commerce.) To be honest, I just want to hit a big city with English-language movie theatres. The cast of Harry Potter is finally old enough - let's get with the lewd comments already.
As it turns out, I succeeded in driving my motorbike into the ditch; minimal injury and maximal embarrassment. My revised plan is to buddy up with more competent drivers... small scooters have room enough for two people, or a family of eight, depending on your approach.
Yesterday I hopped on with a friendly Irish fella and spent some time at the Sanapur Reservoir, jumping 8-10 metres off giant boulders into the lake. Sweat-free for a precious few minutes! Apparently the "no swimming" and "beware crocodiles" signs were just for show. If only every destination allowed tourists to jump off tall things into cool, predator-free freshwater. Alas.The town of Hampi is nestled within the ruins of Vijayanagar, a once-great Hindu empire. I think the main city was home to some 500,000 people at its peak. The big draws, with good reason, the Virupaksha Temple and Hanuman (monkey god) temple on Anjanadri Hill. I quite liked the monkey temple, but scootering around the countryside is the best part. Enormous mounds of pink boulders balanced precariously all around. Rice paddies. Lazy rivers. A healthy portion of emptiness. I wish I could describe the visual combination. It's otherwordly.
It's hard to find a place on the backpacker circuit that enjoys unmixed, all-positive reviews. Hampi is one of those rare places that everyone likes. Seems that Mysore has a similarly good reputation - good news, as it's on the itinerary for the Shore Family Jam Band's Christmas tour.
Bangalore in a couple of days. (My next post will be rich with wisdom pertaining to e-commerce.) To be honest, I just want to hit a big city with English-language movie theatres. The cast of Harry Potter is finally old enough - let's get with the lewd comments already.
Friday, November 19, 2010
baby's first ________
I've spent 40 seconds driving my very first scooter/tiny motorcycle. There are many reasons to be fearful - my lead foot (or right hand in this case), narrow roads, giant potholes, Indian drivers, unsupervised toddlers everywhere.
If I manslaughter an innocent child or throw myself into a ditch (helmetless, natch), it really was very nice knowing you. Then again, I'd rather go to Indian prison for criminal negligence than smuggling jewelry to avoid export taxes. Srsly. How embarrassing.
Wish me luck, I'll need it.
P.S. I'm in Hampi and it's soooooooo beautiful! Too lazy to post a link. Just Google it, you bums.
If I manslaughter an innocent child or throw myself into a ditch (helmetless, natch), it really was very nice knowing you. Then again, I'd rather go to Indian prison for criminal negligence than smuggling jewelry to avoid export taxes. Srsly. How embarrassing.
Wish me luck, I'll need it.
P.S. I'm in Hampi and it's soooooooo beautiful! Too lazy to post a link. Just Google it, you bums.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Sex on the Beach
Cocktail or horrible reality?
A couple of nights ago I spent many hours drinking rum. At 5:30 am, it was finally time to fall into bed; on the way home, me and my new pals Rick and Tom stopped on the beach to smoke a left-handed cigarette. We spent a few minutes wondering about the low moans emanating from ~15 feet away, audible between crashing waves. Pitch dark, so I stepped a bit closer to discover a tangle of pale limbs. Yes. Indeed. The sweet romance of making love on the main stretch of a public beach. Meanwhile, three drunks pause next door to argue loudly about the relative merits of the Aladdin soundtrack. We concluded that "One Jump Ahead" is the best song, and that getting sand in your private bits is never worth the trouble, and hastily parted ways.
I've spent the last five days or so on Palolem beach in southern Goa. It's fairly developed - beach huts and restaurants everywhere. But the beach itself has nice sand, small waves, no sharks, and surprisingly little garbage. I'm probably the only woman on the entire beach, including the morbidly obese and the elderly, not wearing a bikini. (Good luck buying a decent bathing suit in Dawson - no, in the Yukon.) So twice a day, I stick on my ill-fitting WalMart one-piece and wallow in the waves. I actually almost fell asleep in the water this morning, star-fished out in the shallows. Add 'Arabian Sea' to the long list of places where I'm capable of napping. Had I fulfilled my half-assed childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, perhaps I'd enjoy the distinction of being the only person in history to doze off during a space-walk.
Before Goa, I was in Mumbai. It seemed like a good place to do a bit of shopping. I decided to buy some Indian clothes, see if I can pull them off. I went to FabIndia, a big chain of shops... nice selection, good quality. Bought a couple of knee-length kurtas (tunics), a pair of white churdiwar (leggings), and a beautiful fine cotton dupatta (narrow scarf). Wearing these more traditional clothes in Goa, of all places, is quite funny, because it's the one place in India where Western women seem to get away with skimpy clothes. But, wow, what a difference! Positive attention versus questionable/negative attention. Fewer googly stares and more friendly remarks. I get it! Wearing ankle-length leggings feels somehow wrong during those sticky, hot afternoons, but white truly does make a difference. I'll probably buy some more light-coloured kurtas and churidars to see me through the rest of the trip. It feels a bit unfair when you see Indian women strolling about in Western clothes, but there are different rules applied to foreigners. So it may be worthwhile to just roll with it and dress more conservatively.
It's been more than two hours since my last meal, so I'd best get moving toward lunch. All of the best holidays are based from meal to meal. There's buckets of fresh seafood all around - perhaps some kind of fish curry. Also, if you ever get a chance, try the traditional Goan dessert bebinca [left], it's outrageously tasty.
A couple of nights ago I spent many hours drinking rum. At 5:30 am, it was finally time to fall into bed; on the way home, me and my new pals Rick and Tom stopped on the beach to smoke a left-handed cigarette. We spent a few minutes wondering about the low moans emanating from ~15 feet away, audible between crashing waves. Pitch dark, so I stepped a bit closer to discover a tangle of pale limbs. Yes. Indeed. The sweet romance of making love on the main stretch of a public beach. Meanwhile, three drunks pause next door to argue loudly about the relative merits of the Aladdin soundtrack. We concluded that "One Jump Ahead" is the best song, and that getting sand in your private bits is never worth the trouble, and hastily parted ways.
I've spent the last five days or so on Palolem beach in southern Goa. It's fairly developed - beach huts and restaurants everywhere. But the beach itself has nice sand, small waves, no sharks, and surprisingly little garbage. I'm probably the only woman on the entire beach, including the morbidly obese and the elderly, not wearing a bikini. (Good luck buying a decent bathing suit in Dawson - no, in the Yukon.) So twice a day, I stick on my ill-fitting WalMart one-piece and wallow in the waves. I actually almost fell asleep in the water this morning, star-fished out in the shallows. Add 'Arabian Sea' to the long list of places where I'm capable of napping. Had I fulfilled my half-assed childhood dream of becoming an astronaut, perhaps I'd enjoy the distinction of being the only person in history to doze off during a space-walk.
Before Goa, I was in Mumbai. It seemed like a good place to do a bit of shopping. I decided to buy some Indian clothes, see if I can pull them off. I went to FabIndia, a big chain of shops... nice selection, good quality. Bought a couple of knee-length kurtas (tunics), a pair of white churdiwar (leggings), and a beautiful fine cotton dupatta (narrow scarf). Wearing these more traditional clothes in Goa, of all places, is quite funny, because it's the one place in India where Western women seem to get away with skimpy clothes. But, wow, what a difference! Positive attention versus questionable/negative attention. Fewer googly stares and more friendly remarks. I get it! Wearing ankle-length leggings feels somehow wrong during those sticky, hot afternoons, but white truly does make a difference. I'll probably buy some more light-coloured kurtas and churidars to see me through the rest of the trip. It feels a bit unfair when you see Indian women strolling about in Western clothes, but there are different rules applied to foreigners. So it may be worthwhile to just roll with it and dress more conservatively.
It's been more than two hours since my last meal, so I'd best get moving toward lunch. All of the best holidays are based from meal to meal. There's buckets of fresh seafood all around - perhaps some kind of fish curry. Also, if you ever get a chance, try the traditional Goan dessert bebinca [left], it's outrageously tasty.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
High Cinema or: Satyajit Ray Can Suck It
The Elephanta Caves are located on an island across the harbour from Mumbai. The site is small but interesting, though I enjoyed the boat ride far more than the caves! OK, I'm not an architecture buff, I'll admit it. And the heat was making me coco loco. Here's an excerpt from the overpriced guide booklet that I bought at the entrance: 'In 1534 A.D. the island passed into the hands of the Portuguese... ...The Portuguese soldiers fired several shots from a big gun into the cave to test the echo, thereby breaking some of the sculptures and pillars.' What a bunch of dicks. I suppose they eventually got tired of shouting "Ronaldo is an asshole!... ldo is an asshole... an asshole... hole" Big guns then enter the picture.
Arriving on the jetty at Elephanta Island, I passed a young guy wearing a t-shirt that stated "Bollywood Sucks!" He must not have been at the cinema the night before, as I was, enjoying the shit out of Golmaal 3. When I entered the theatre it was with great wariness - how could I view Golmaal 3 without having enjoyed its predecessor Golmaal Returns? Ánd I assume Golmaal had original adventures even before he returned. How presumptuous of me! Would you sit down to watch American Pie 3: The Wedding without having first absorbed the nuanced humour of American Pie and American Pie 2? Not likely!
Most foreign language films would be unbearable to sit through without English subtitles, but Bollywood is mostly about enjoying universal themes: lurid colours, butt injuries, exploding jet skis, fistfights, choreographed dance, miscommunications with the hearing impaired, lost love, and practical jokes using crazy glue. You know - the essential things that make us human.
Arriving on the jetty at Elephanta Island, I passed a young guy wearing a t-shirt that stated "Bollywood Sucks!" He must not have been at the cinema the night before, as I was, enjoying the shit out of Golmaal 3. When I entered the theatre it was with great wariness - how could I view Golmaal 3 without having enjoyed its predecessor Golmaal Returns? Ánd I assume Golmaal had original adventures even before he returned. How presumptuous of me! Would you sit down to watch American Pie 3: The Wedding without having first absorbed the nuanced humour of American Pie and American Pie 2? Not likely!
Most foreign language films would be unbearable to sit through without English subtitles, but Bollywood is mostly about enjoying universal themes: lurid colours, butt injuries, exploding jet skis, fistfights, choreographed dance, miscommunications with the hearing impaired, lost love, and practical jokes using crazy glue. You know - the essential things that make us human.
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