Asia

March 8, 2014

Goan at it in Goa – part II

christinelouise Asia, NovaTOURient, Travel Talk 2014, Arambol, Asia, beach, coconuts, Goa, Hammocks, India, jungle hostel, Ludu's Guest House, Sunburn, vagator

I think The Jungle Hostel the Goan equivalent of The Pink Palace, Greece. Every morning we wake up, even more lazy than the day before, making it a habit to get several King Fisher beers from the fridge before joining the circle of people in hammocks. The dilemma of the day is which dish and cocktail to order from the huge menu at The Mango Tree, the restaurant right next to us.

Today, we finally decide to go to see the beach – in daylight, that is. Our new German friends and Katherine from Canada join us. The beach isn’t quite the lonely tropical paradise one might assume, although it is rather empty. Still, we head toward the end of the beach to avoid onlookers. It is very common to get stared at and have your picture taken when you’re a tourist in India, but if you’re a tourist in India wearing a BIKINI, all hell breaks loose, and the video cameras are out. It’s not exactly pleasant to have your fat, milky white thighs on a strange Indian man’s cellphone forever… or until he breaks it and gets a new one.

A very nice old lady with a big bucket on her head stops by and offers us various fruits, like mangos, papayas and coconuts. I have always wanted to drink out of a coconut, so she hands me one with a long red straw, along with a smaller coconut to eat. This is just amazing, soaking up the sun and overdosing on coconuts!

After a few hours of tanning, throwing sand at each other and crashing into the huge waves, we go back for a shower and some lunch at The Mango Tree. Being out in the sun always gets me so light headed and tired, so we take a short nap before going back to the common room. We’re leaving tomorrow, so we need to figure out our next step. After that and a meeting with a travel agent on the other side of the road, we grab dinner at – drum roll – The Mango Tree (surprise, surprise) with Selina and a guy named Tal. We have a pretty amazing feast of fried rice with eggs and a thai dish of vegetables, walnuts and almonds. So much yum. With full stomachs we join the circle of people on pillows at the hostel, where drinks, beers and joints were passed around – we thanked no to one of these, but we wont tell you which one it was ;-)

Will you look at this trippy panorama I took!?

It’s around 1.00 and it’s time for bed. I am exhausted.

Several hours later, I wake up with the worst sunburn. I am one huge sensitive lobster – but the worst part is my back. At this point, I could just go to The Pink Palace and stand with my face to the wall and no one would notice me.

We pack our stuff and meet with a travel agent across the street to get some bus tickets for our next three destinations. In India, a travel agent is just really the way to go. But always go to more than one before booking anything, as one might tell you there are no available busses or trains to your desired destination, or they could overcharge you. a lot. We end up going back there three times before actually getting our tickets, due to whatever reason there could possibly be. It’s not too much trouble though, as we can spend more time in the common room with our friends. One guy from New Zealand is sitting in a hammock and playing the ukulele – or, at least trying to. Tal is offering me his jar of Nivea creme for men for my sunburn. There is just a good vibe and nice people, and it’s hard to leave.

In the taxi from the airport to Vagator, we met two American girls who were going to Arambol. They let us take a few pictures of their Lonely Planet, and painted a lovely picture of the place they were going to, so we decided to give it a try.

At 1.30 we get in a taxi and head to Arambol – it’s only 600 rupees. We are dropped off at the end of a looong bazar, and at the end of that, there is an even longer walk with our backpacks through the beach, another bazar and then a few huts. It has been the worst hike of my life – so far. We arrive at Ludu’s Guest House, and a man shows up out of nowhere and shows us a room and that’s it – no reception, no money, no check-in. It’s a bit shady, but whatever. We just lock our bags to the windows to be extra safe, and we head out to explore the shops – of course, we spend way too many rupees. This place has so many shops full of everything that a hippie could ever want, so of course Arambol is filled with white people with dreadlocks, stretches and wifebeaters with Ganesh printed on them. They’re all probably into yoga, too.

IMG_9175-2

We’re about to go find some dinner. It’s funny, but we almost have to force down our three meals a day. It might be the heat, it might be the food, or it might be the fact that we are too busy, but we only feel hunger in small waves, and quickly get over it. We rarely finish our food, unless it’s something familiar and bland, like a vegetarian burger or pizza. Indian food is just not for us, I guess.

Well, off to find something edible we go. Right now, I’m blogging from our balcony at Ludu’s Guest House, watching the waves hit the cliffs underneath us while the sun sets. This is life.

March 7, 2014

Goan at it in Goa – part I

christinelouise Asia, NovaTOURient, Travel Talk 2014, Airports, Asia, beach, bonfire, Bucket List, Drinking, Flying, Goa, India, jungle hostel, vagator

Check out at hostel in Delhi. Go to Delhi Airport. Fly to Goa. Share a cab to Vagator Beach with some fellow backpackers. Get lost on our way to the hostel. Find hostel, which is full of young people, just staring at your red sweaty face. Drop new expensive camera and therefore break it. Look for new chargers for computer online, and fail. Get mad. Have a fight. Go to bed. Discover a gecko in the room. Name him Fredo. That pretty much sums up our day. Needless to say, it has sucked.

Dat cute charge tho

This should be a sign that you’re heading in the wrong direction, and into a poor neighbourhood. We were sooo sure this was the way to the hostel.

I obviously cannot get over this whole cow thing

We wake up the next day with an entirely different attutide, though – it must have been because we’ve had an amazing nights sleep. Our hostel, The Jungle Hostel, is very tiny and modest, but it’s full of young people, who sit barefoot on pillows in the common area with a beer in hand all day and night long. It’s just so cozy.

The main hang-out area, with pillows and sitting hammocks

Sitting hammock and 50 rupee Kingfisher beer? This is the life

Breakfast is included, so we start off the day by going into the kitchen and grab some toast with jam and butter, and some mini bananas. The mission for today is to look for a charger for the computer in Mapusa (pronounced Mapsa). We get a taxi to the city center, which is also by the entrance of a big street market. While checking out the market, a young local woman follows us around. She seems very nice, and pretends to think Sara has Indian roots. What it all comes down to is that she wants us to check out her shop. I end up buying some toe rings and a scarf, which is way too expensive. We continue our mission to find the charger by visiting dodgy shop after office that sells electronics after dodgy shop, with no luck. Someone suggests we go to Panaji, so we get on a Tuk Tuk. After almost finding the right charger, we decide to go to lunch at a very local place, as in no one here understands english. We have to just point at random dishes and hope for the best. We end up being fairly satisfied with our choices, except we really need to get used to how spicy the food is everywhere.

There is some garlic naan, fried rice with vegetables and some sort of spinach puree with paneer up in here.

We finally conclude that our mission is impossible, and give up on the whole charger treasure hunt. Back at the hostel in Vagator, we start talking to a few German girls, and even go shopping at the little stalls on the streets with one of them, Gül. I need to get me some India pants! Gül is an amazing negotiator, and thanks to her, we save a lot of rupees on our purchases. We walk back to the hostel together, and I suggest to her and her friend that we get some seafood and then have a bonfire on the beach (see my bucket list). All 6 of us have dinner and drinks at Tin Tin (yes, that cartoon guy), which is a really nice restaurant.

Gül, Saskia, Selina and Angi

After dinner, we all head for the beach along with our roomate, Jonas, and 12 beers, rosé wine and marshmallows! We pick up some wood and branches on our way, to the amusement of some locals. An old Indian lady starts grabbing branches and hands them to us and I could just die. She’s so cute.

We find a spot on the beach that is as far away from the restaurants as possible. Saskia and Jonas are skilled fire-makers, so we leave it to them to start this thing. A group of people join us, and we all sit and enjoy the big, warm fire with our beers, rosé wine and roasted marshmallows. Even though we have a lot of wood, we constantly have to split up in groups to go look for more in the grassier areas, bringing our flashlights. As the fire is dying, the wood group comes back and lets us know that a lifeguard saw the fire from his tower (what is he doing there in the middle of the night?), and apparently what we’re doing isn’t exactly legal. So we let the flames die, and we head back to the hostel.

March 4, 2014

Safe Delhi-very

christinelouise Asia, NovaTOURient, Travel Talk 2014, Asia, India, india gate, New Delhi, scary stories, shopping, Sightseeing, Tuk tuk

We didn’t sleep too well last night. A few horrifying screams from the bazaar outside woke us up. My legs are red, itchy and bumpy, and it’s probably from those bed bugs Sara was on about. We had to get the receptionist to get the lights to work again, and to ask for some warm water. This is how you take a bath here:

Complimentary breakfast. I am falling in love with masala chai.

At this point, we don’t really want to go out and be scared and stared at, but we do have to go do something with our day, at least eat some food. We pack a few rupees each and my iPhone. Right outside our hostel is the main bazar – something we apparently weren’t aware of until we step out of the alley that was so dark and creepy a few hours earlier – and it’s super busy, crowded and aggressive – it’s scary. A few months before we ended up on this very bazar, a Danish woman was raped here. People are staring at us, yelling and honking because we are in the way no matter where we are, and some guys even follow us a little bit. Suddenly my entire right side is wet – someone has thrown a bucket of water on me. I much later realise that it was probably unintentional – people often throw buckets of water on the drying streets – but as I look down on my bright red tunic and my 40 denier tights that are drenched in water, I feel as if I have offended a lot of people by dressing this provocative – and it’s the most modest thing in my backpack!

A bit away from all the noise and people, we find a fast food place that seems busy and filled with locals. That’s usually a good sign, so we go in. At this point though, all the people and the business of the place are making me feel very anxious. I don’t want to be stared at anymore, and especially not when I have no idea what I am doing. What are all these things on the menu? Where can we sit? How do you even order? I get it together, and we end up having a Chinese platter, out of all things. Our first meal in India is Chinese! And it is beyond spicy! We can’t even eat more than like 1/3 of the whole thing.

We study our map with great frustration, and end up asking two young girls at the table next to us to point out our location on the map. Then we head out to find some things that are worth to look at. We meet several guys that walk besides us, asking about us and giving us advice. While this is certainly nice of them, these men are strangers, and the warnings and bad stories we have been offered prior to coming here, are constantly in the back of our minds. We try to ignore them as much as we can, and never reveal anything truthful about us, just to give ourselves a sense of protection. We end up having this whole story made up – we’re sisters-in-law from Norway, who are going to meet up with our husbands in Southern India.

While trying to find our way to the temple Laxmi Narayan Birla Mandir, I not only step in dog poo, we also meet Naresh, a very helpful guy studying in Delhi. He takes us some of the way and says he hopes to meet us later.

Beautiful place, unfortunately photography isn’t allowed inside.

We go to our very first temple. It is beautiful, but odd. For one, I am not used to walking around barefoot in public. Witnessing religious acts like praying also make me super uncomfortable, especially as I have no idea how to behave around a man on his knees. Do I avoid the entire room he is in so I wont disturb him?

On our way back, we run into Naresh again. He is telling us that getting some traditional Indian clothes will be a good idea, and we agree. He then takes us to a “hard to find” factory with Indian clothing by the RK Ashram Mark metro station. It is a small alley that leads to a tiny, dirty street full of buildings that are probably shops just like the one we walk into. An older Indian woman welcomes us, sits us down on a comfortable bench and offers us masala chai and cold water. She is very nice, asks us what we’re looking for, and has her young assistants pulling out one beautiful piece of fabric after another. We decide on a few pieces, and she sends us and some young girls into her office, where we can try them on. We absolutely have to come out after every wardrobe change, so everyone can see and compliment us. At one point, I am trying on a Punjabi dress that Sara has just worn, and the older woman isn’t afraid to tell me she doesn’t think it’s my color. Well, at least she’s being honest.

Naresh claims that it is much cheaper to buy clothes at a local factory rather than in a fancy store, which is the reason we’ve followed him this far, but I end up spending 7500 rupees on a purple Punjabi dress and a red sari (just the shawl though)! It has been a great experience though, and I even learned how to do the sari.

Naresh – who patiently has been waiting for us this whole time! – calls his uncle who is a Tuk Tuk driver and takes us to India Gate and the President’s House. His “uncle” is also super nice, and they give us plenty of advice on safety, saving money, culture etc. Of course I don’t remember anything well enough to pass on to you guys, sorry. What is really cool about this ride around Delhi to see the sights, is that we see monkeys running around in the streets, and bats hanging in the trees – all this is just like one giant casual zoo. An expensive one to get into, may I add.

As the sun is setting, and we are too paranoid to stay out after dark in this mad city, we need to find some dinner and get back to the hostel. Naresh recommends a local vegetarian restaurant, and takes us there to get a thali plate to go for 120 rupees each. We offer Naresh some too as a thanks, but he declines. With our white bags of food, we get dropped off by the alley to our hostel, and we tip the “uncle” 200 rupees. As we hand over 500 rps to Naresh as thanks, he yet again declines, saying “then we wouldn’t be friends, and I wouldn’t be happy“, even though he had earlier joked that he’d rather have money than dinner when we offered. We go to our room and have our first Indian meal in India – amazing, dirt cheap thali:

Super photogenic food

What started as a scary trip to see a temple ended up being a great experience. We have new, India-appropriate clothes, we’ve seen monuments and buildings we wouldn’t have bothered to go see otherwise, and we met a great tuk tuk driver and Naresh, who made us feel safer and a lot less lost. Thank you Naresh!

Next stop, Goa!

March 4, 2014

Bye bye, Europe!

christinelouise Travel Talk Airports, Asia, Departure, Europe, Flying, Goodbyes, India, New Delhi

3.45 in the morning is no time to get up, but that’s what we do anyway. We start our day agreeing that we are getting sick and promptly fill up on vitamins. We take a cab to the airport to avoid having to endure a long, cold walk to the train station with our backpacks on, which would ultimately make us more sick. That’s lazy people’s logic for you right there. The driver rips me off of course, but I am too sleepy to care. Paulina is with us to try and get a refund on her flight, as she hasn’t gotten her visa approved yet, but she doesn’t have any luck. She then heads over to the ATM to get some money out, and it rejects all of her cards. Almost teary-eyed, she has to watch us go through security while she is waiting for the bank to open, so she can get some money for the cab back.

Sara and I fly to Paris, where we have a quick layover, then we’re off to Delhi. We sit in different rows, which I don’t mind, since we have movies, naps and food to entertain us. We try our first Indian meal on the plane, which is not too bad. I am geniunely thinking I won’t mind this coming month of just Indian food. Two weeks from now, I will regret that.

We also have our first taste of Asian politeness on the flight. The Indian woman sitting next to Sara not only stares her up and down for a long time, she also completely skips the line to the lavatory, where we have been waiting for several minutes. I am shocked how unapologetic and rude this woman is, but I also have yet to find out how common that really is.

When we land in Delhi, we have to deal with a long walk and line to immigration before baggage claim. Our backpacks are taking their sweet time to get there, and we are on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Wouldn’t it just be typical to travel all day, just to end up in a strange country without our luggage and an idea of how to deal with it?
We finally leave the airport, one whole hour after landing. A driver has been waiting for us all this time, and he’s going to wait a little bit longer, when we spot an ATM. I don’t know the currency rate, or what half the (English) words mean, so I take my sweet time. Poor guy.

Our driver takes us for quite a walk to the car. On the way, several big groups of young guys give us the stare, which makes us a bit nervous. I have heard a lot things about Indian men and their sexuality, and especially about their fascination with blond girls. It makes me even more aware of people staring at me, and even more scared that I will somehow end up in an uncomfortable situation. Not exactly the best thing to think about, going into a month-long trip in this country. I better shake off my prejudices about this country and its people. Not that I have too many.

We get in the taxi, which is clearly not an actual taxi, but an old, white car with duct tape to hold the windows in place. We have our first taste of traffic in India: loud, chaotic and seemingly super deadly. I get distracted when I see cows casually crossing the street here and there. This is amazing! What’s not amazing though, is that the driver asks us for a tip, and we hand him about 200 rupees, to which he gets offended. In the end, he cashes in 600 rupees in tips alone, and it’s a total scam, and we are tired and just want to get out of the duct tape car. He heads into a narrow and dark alley, and we stand there, unsure if it’s safe to follow him. Why is he going into this creepy alley with nothing but young men sitting around, staring at us!? It turns out our Hotel, called The Spot, is a tiny place far into the alley. Now, I’ve been staying in shit places before and it’s never been a problem. I have a fairly low standard. This place seems scary and disgusting though. I can’t put my finger on it.

We have plugged in the charger for the computer we have bought together for this trip, and suddenly a few sparks fly from the plug, the charger melts, and the lights go out. We are too scared to leave the room and go back to the reception, where it’s just a few young guys sitting around, so we just fall asleep in our beds, which Sara suspects is crawling with bed bugs. It’s been a looong day.

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