Southern-most Ed

Just a quick post today. I am leaving paradise... I made a decision to get off my beached ass and do as much as possible in my last month and week. I will explain this plan later. I'm currently in Varkala in the south of Kerala which is itself at the south of India... as I only have a very short time left in this neck of the palm trees (at the time of writing a mere six hours) I decided that I should take the opportunity to go down to the southern tip of India.

A short (relatively) train ride away and there I was.... the closest to the equator I have ever been... metres from the southern-most tip of the subcontinent.... I walked down to what surprised me as being quite a beautiful piece of rugged coastline, full of the obligatory load of uncontemplative thrashing noisy Indian tourists and me. It's a pretty impressive feeling, incredibly satisfying to have made it all the way down and beautiful to look over a body of water so large... that would, on a map, be intersected by huge dotted lines delineating the beginnings and ends of the three seas that intersect it... strangely enough nature doesn't recognise this. I spent a while trying to clamber over some rocks with a camera to try to get further out that everyone else if only for a moment. It wasn't to be but I was close and happy to be there. On my way to catch the boat to one of the islands off the coast however I spotted a collection of rocks which spread itself quite far out to sea... I was sure that if I got there I could be a little further out to the rest... so dodging broken glass and pot-head beggars and crashing waves and jagged falls I made my way slowly out to sea until the end of the road. Quite literally I guess. As I stood looking out to sea I was literally the southern most human being in mainland India.

I went out to the islands eventually... I think there too... depending on which you count, I managed to win myself the accolade of southern-most person. I was also amused to discover what the southern-most functional building in India is. A temple? No. A Museum? No. A Fort? No.... it's a toilet. For men and for women you will be glad to hear. This made me laugh and was the perfect Indian punctuation to what has been an incredible joy of frustrations getting down here. Thank you whoever it was who decided to build that there.

And so to me. I made it back yesterday evening after a couple of coach journeys, my first road crash (which involved half destroying a tiny red car with our massive green bus... noone injured thankfully) and a train journey. I am now the morning after, my final Keralan morning, contemplating a 48 hour train journey which will take me from Varkala, via Chennai all the way up to Calcutta. It took me two months and three weeks to get south, its going to take me 48 hours to do the reverse. Fortunately Valium is not prescription out here. I'll let you know haw that goes.

Cold Isolation

Perhaps a little too dramatic a title but I have been ill and as a man I must live up to the prophecy (perhaps self-fulfilling) of wallowing in it. I have been so alone!!! In bed for almost four days straight bar a minor 5 hour bus journey and the odd danger fraught excursion to the internet cafe. It not that I feel that ill, just that being anywhere more than 12.5 metres from a toilet is not a thought that fills my heart with joy (as opposed to being 12.5 metres from one which, for the past few days at least, has). So I have managed to spend this time well, eating little, speaking less, watching approximately too many crap films (list below... the ones I remember at least

Shade
American Gangster (in two sittings)
Independence Day
Death Race starring Jason Statham
The Man Who Wasn't There (Actually one of my favorite films ever so thank you Mr Inconsistent-Film-Scheduler)
8 Legged Freaks
Tremors
Confessions of a Shopaholic
That American film with Ricky Gervais where he dies and starts speaking to dead people
Shutter
The Invasion (barely passable remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers without the one thing that made it great.... the ending!!!)
Tremors
Some american high school flick
Raging Bull (again thank you Mr Inconsistent-Film-Scheduler!)
Planet Terror
3 episodes of Entourage
1 episode of Heroes
2 episodes of 2 and a Half Men (I know, I know...)

Ah, it has been fun... this illness subsided around four days ago and since then I have fallen in love with Cochin and its Martial Arts-Katakali-esque-Ginger-factory-laundry-goodness... met a new friend, John (another Irish guy from Cork who I met on the bus from Ooty) been reunited with another friend, Viddi an cool Icelandic dude I met in Palolem and also reunited with an old enemy... the common cold!!! Unbelievable... 35 degree heat, cliff top palm tree enclosed beach hut, beautiful ocean and I've managed to get a cold! But I can't I and won't complain, I have been combating it by ingesting at least three litres of water every morning, through my nose, as I attempt and fail to body board waves taller than your average elephant. I am feeling quite bruised and scraped by this stretch of ocean which is far rougher than the gentle lapping water of the bay of palolem... far more fun too.

And so that is the current me, sitting in the Kerala Coffee House on top of a cliff overlooking the Lakshadweep Sea as I sop a fresh Pineapple juice and plan the next leg of my journey which will hopefully take me down to the Southern tip of India before rocketing me up to Sikkim via Mamallapuram and Calcutta before heading to Nepal via Varanasi, only to finish my trip with a return journey to Rajasthan to see all the things which I missed the first time round and all this in a month and a week. How does that sound?

Ps: New photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/

Photos

Lots of new photos finally up in 3 sets: Hampi Colour, Hampi Black & White and City of Lost Children at the following link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

City of Lost Children

It was a sad day to leave Hampi, our beautiful boulder-strewn Hampi... definitely the most naturally stunning place I have been to so far in India and definitely up there in the most stunning ever. I say our beautiful Hampi in relation to the little group Mark and I picked up on the train to Hampi, Louise and Xavier. Louise, who is currently sitting below me as I write this email form the gayest train this side of Gaysville (more later) is a lovely Irish girl from Cork and Xavier a cool french guy from Paris. We hung out together over our time in Hampi and I would say each grew equally attached to the place. It was a shame to split up the group, but split up we did on Tuesday morning when myself and Louise left the safety of our little Mowgli Villas toy town huts and the comfort of Babylon (a gazebo over which each of our huts overlooked and which catered to our every realxed need for the five evenings we spent in Hampi). We left for Badami, about three hours north of Hampi, home to some caves that I'd read about briefly in the guidebook.

We got to the bus station at 7.30am and I have to say I was slightly apprehensive of my first Indian bus journey... I had images of seven hours delays and impossible crushes, incomprehensible timetables, elbows to the face, neck and groin, babies with razor blades cutting holes in my bag to reach it's contents before their older brothers stole the bag... images of chickens and spit covered chairs and an old man sitting on my knee. Not for the first time, my ignorant and perhaps prejudice expectations of things in India were gently dissolved. The bus station was relatively quiet, the staff helpful, the bus pretty empty, clean and free from thieving-child. So I put my ipod onto shuffle and gazed out of the window to the sound of Ray Charles 'What'd I Say' and let it happen. I am looking forward to more bus journeys... bus journeys and odd songs, not songs odd by their nature just songs odd to their environment of bus rides through rural India (that is effectively every song on my ipod). It has made the ten or so hours of buses I have take over the past couple of days pretty interesting, and at times odd... listening to There is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths minutes before you pass the aftermath of a fatal collision between a car and coach for example.

Anyhows, after that little cheery note. We reached Badami without a hitch... a dusty little town with overpriced hotels with dusty rooms... a dusty little town with some beautiful caves cut out of the rocks that loom above. There are four caves in all and all were beautiful... full of stunning carvings and statues and bats, I have put some of the photos on Flickr, unfortunately (or fortunately) most of the photos I took were of the children... so many dusty children in this dusty little town. The first few that hit us were normal... but we slowly realised (that is the dusty dogs barking like at us, the only fair-skinned people around, made us realise) that not too many western tourists make their way to Badami... a shame as it is really pretty (a little bit dusty though). So kids 1-5 were nothing out of the ordinary... but they began to outnumber the adults by 3 to 1... all curious, all big fans of the camera, all heart-meltingly sweet (that said I did begin to worry at times that they were going to herd me and Louise into a corner and stone us to death for our heart-melting sweet money - where does that come from huh?!). Anyhows, as you can see from the photos we met one or two kids in Badami and they will likely live in the memory longer than the caves... odd that.

And now as ever, I hint at something early on (remember the gay train?!) and then write for too long and leave myself having to rush the end. So Louise, recovering from some mild food poisioning from a Thali the night before, and I set off for Mysore from Hubli (near Badami) early the next day... we were on the train when I began to notice something a bit odd... slightly bouncier steps in the youths, slightly rosier cheeks, slightly more roving hands when I walked by in the corridor. Yes, you guessed it, I had found myself on the Tranny Train... and you think I'm joking!? For some reason 42 gays (as they introduced themselves) were on a fun week trip from Mumbai to Mysore... they were a funny old group, flamboyant in a way I think any new community has to be to survive in what must be a hostile culture as this... but all lovely if a little too touchy feely. Unfortunately their English and my Marathi wasn't good enough to really get into too much of a conversation about things, but it was fascinating to observe them, and perhaps more so the happy and friendly reactions of their fellow (albeit all middle-class) train passengers... not every day.

And so I will leave you... in Mysore, a city I am not so keen to return to and even less keen to write about... till the next interesting happening.

Hampi Days

(Flickr photos pending broadband hitting India)

Hey all. So, I finally managed to free myself from the inert pull of Palolem and Goa... close your eyes literally for a second and you have been there for a week... dare to meditate and put yourself into a trance and you might never come back!

So, myself and Mark left on Thursday... a 6 hour sleeper train from Goa to Hampi... we travelled in Sleeper Class which I think is the 3rd lowest class and the lowest I have travelled so far. I was pleasantly surprised by the pleasant journey. Empty carriages, beautiful scenery, nice travel partners, fantastic service (literally everything is catered for by the million and one Wallahs selling all sorts of treats at knockdown prices) and only two cockroaches... all for about £3, money well spent.

We got into Hospet around 4pm and got a rickshaw the 17km to Hampi... a pretty crazy ride. All was going well for the first 10km or so... the usual fare of blind corner over and undertaking, potholes, cows, Tata trucks etc etc. Then we came to a bend in the road, nothing special about it... just like any other bend in fact. Other than the fact that it turned out to be a portal to another dimension! A portal to another time! A time when great lizards terrorized the earth and giant and huge dragon birds blocked out the sun... it was a gateway to another land... a gateway to the land that time forgot!

Ok, this (as with pretty much everything that I write (including that)) was not strictly true. But the landscape as you enter Hampi changes dramatically... the litter in the fields turns swiftly from plastic bottles and bags to fifty ton boulders, seemingly placed there for some purpose well beyond our need to know. They slowly become more and more dense until they pile up into massive rock mountains a hundred meters tall... interspersed with beautiful Hindu temples and luscious paddy fields and palm trees, it really is some of the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen... and beautiful and relaxing and inspirational to be staying in.

I thought that I was pretty relaxed in Goa but have reached a new level here... really need to stop doing this lest i actually melt into the ether. Anyhows... need top head as it is late and I must eat! Let me finish by giving a brief summary of the activities I have been up to since my arrival the day before yesterday:

• Watching the sunrise across the prehistoric landscape sitting cross legged on a rock on a semi-dried up river bed... twice.
• Walked through boulder strewn landscapes stumbling across stunning and humble temples alike.
• Stumbled across an off-the-beaten-track-trail to a waterfall, through alien rock formations (see photos) to swim at the top of it.
• Got blessed by an Elephant
• Marvelled at an amazing statue of Ganesh (now my favorite God)

And tomorrow I plan to do a little more... Hampi fricking days!!!

Holi S£$%!!!

Just a short one here... but the photos can make up the word count and set the scene:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623421186071/

The Festival of Colour, or Holi... a festival of radiance in the universe. During this festival, different waves of radiance traverse the universe, thereby creating various colours that nourish and complement the function of respective elements in the atmosphere (thanks again Wikipedia). Also a fine excuse to run through the streets high on life or booze or narcotics or all three and throw handfuls of luminous coloured dye in strangers' faces.

It seems so obvious in hindsight, that turning random strangers into your own little Jackson Pollock interpretations can be so fun! The minute someone was stained with even the slightest amount of coloured dye their countenence shifted... colourful intentions filled their eyes as they grabbed for the nearest bag of electric blue dye or bright pink water... intentions to colour their assailant ever so slightly more than they had been moments earlier. And so it spread, across the beaches and streets, over hills and plains... into the towns and cities, throughout the Sub-Continent like some psychadelic zombie invasion. It was so much fun! Everyone involved was, without exeption, lost in the ludicrous nature of the lingering moment. I doubt the question didn't cross the minds of everyone involved as to whether the world would be a happier place if Holi happened a little more often.

I doubt that anyone who asked that question was in doubt as to the answer.









Happy Holi people!!! Coming to a town near you one day soon I hope!!!

Lazy Days

I think my heart stopped today... due to inactivity. I was on Padnam beach in South Goa, sipping a White Russian with my new Icelandic friend Viddi when, for a brief moment, I think I died. It was kind of scary in an exhilarating kind of way... a relaxation induced brush with death. But I recovered... and am now decided not to repeat the error.

This isn't all strictly true. I don't think I actually died... there was most definitely still brain activity and I think my heart was still beating, just at a ridiculously reduced rate. I am just trying to illustrate the fact that I have relaxed more in the last few days than I think I ever have... though I haven't been purely inactive.

My days, these days are proceeding thus: Get up at 6.30am (bizarre, scary and quite cool side effect since the cessation of the smoking), swim round the big rock in the beautiful sheltered bay which my beach hut overlooks, drink coffee while the sun rises over the palm trees, talk about how amazing everything is with my new friends out here, go running on Palolem beach, avoid the one British alcoholic who at the time of writing has been on a 3 day vodka bender, swim some more, eat lunch, drink beer, swim while the sunsets, eat dinner, drink cocktails, sleep. Am I now suitably hated? Good... I deserve your scorn.

I absolutely understand why people end up staying here for years... it is beautiful and potentially such a tranquil existence out here. Though it is a bit false, a little bit Clapham-on-Sea, I am currently surrounded by a number of ageing Hippies with brand new Macbooks, it is effectively a Western idealised version of hippy heaven constructed, supported and protected by money from corrupt Indian politicians, Russian mafia and drugs. Not all perfect in paradise but I am going to enjoy it for at least a week more.

Like I just said. I deserve your scorn.