7th March onwards...

Enjoying an evening flight on the coast North West of Mumbai, a little place called Sydney Hill at Virar. The boats you can see are dredgers bringing up sand from the sea bed and then taking it inland through small estuaries to pile and sell.

With the help of Dheval, one of the instructors at Temple Pilots, I'm now in a slick Internet Cafe in Puna. 2nd net access in nearly a month!

Just uploaded a few pics to flickr
take a look...

Here's the latest telegraph from India.......

Ayup!

Tinternet access is pretty scarce here folks, so the comms are not going to be as often as I’d like.. but everything is going well and I am loving it so far. Strangely I’m not missing work, or winter.

There are some (not totally unexpected) problems, such as being dinner for every mosquito in Virar the first night, or so it seemed. They seemed especially interested in my feet which ended up looking like I had measles. Little buggers. Various guerrilla tactics have to be employed to combat these guys and combinations of repellent, mosquito net (which only works if it it totally sealed and you don’t have to get up and pee, ‘cos if you do you will surely end-up with one inside the net which will feast on you all night).

The ones here in Virar also seem to be smaller and silent, or at least they don’t buzz on my wavelength, so locating them is not easy. Interestingly the ones down in Kerala were larger and noisier so you knew they were around, you just needed a big enough cricket bat to bash them.

I am sleeping on the veranda of a family in Virar on the outskirts of Bombay. There was a time before the British arrived, when this part of the coast was owned by the Portuguese, and Samson, my paragliding friend is a Catholic, as are quite a few people round here. His wife Rashmi is Hindu and there were a lot of family objections to their marriage, but as they have been happily married for many years there is no longer a problem. They have a 14 year old son, Siddarth, who is at school in and was showing me his studies. He has to learn three languages as standard; English, Hindi and the local language Marathi; all are completely different so quite a tough task.

The family, and other English speakers intertwine English and Marathi from sentence to sentence or subject to subject seemingly speaking whichever comes to mind at the time. It’s hard to keep track. Only the educated speak English generally however as it will generally only come from a private school education. Spoken English is generally good but the accent used means you have to listen hard to understand, a lot of old terms long fallen from use back home are still used here and the newer terms I use are not always understood. Siddarth asked me the other day ‘why I wear the shotpat?’ I eventually realised he was referring to my short-pants, or shorts. Chaps/blokes are ‘fellows’ or ‘good fellows’, strangers will ask for ‘your good name please’ which is good because my bad name is not repeatable.

Oh and the other thing in India is the head shaking, an odd tendency. When people agree with you they will shake their head and nod at the same time. When they disagree they appear to do exactly the same thing. At times it looks as if the head is ready to topple off the shoulders. Its so common I have found myself doing this a little as well. Try it, its fun.

Its busy here in Virar. So far in India I have not come across anywhere that isn’t, the noise is fairly constant. Actually there was an hour of silence last week between 2 and 3am, I remember it quite well, but it hasn’t happened since. The noise is a mixture of traffic, of course, constantly beeping and traveling at high speed usually, buzzing mopeds and growling larger bikes, all tooting merrily, buses, big wagons and tankers, and bicycle bells. There are dogs in packs seemingly ripping each other to bits whenever possible, and so loud they sound like they are right at your feet, crows and other loud birds, chickens, sometimes terrified chickens being cornered for the chop!

Then there are various machines, the chicken grinder, the welding shop across the street, somebody replacing his fan belt and revving the engine. These can come at any time as the electricity is rationed, as there is a shortage. The times vary but if the power is on between 4 and 6am then that’s when the chicken man will start his daily grind, so to speak, of the poor chickens. Whether any electricity is actually saved using this technique is doubtful as everyone charges huge batteries or UPS when the power is on which probably consumes electricity equal to the amount saved.

Interestingly there are no police sirens or cats so far, which is not a bad thing.

I’m just back in Mumbai after a few days down in Kerala. Wasn’t a complete success, as I was hit by DB (Dehli Belly) for the first time since arriving well over a week ago. After arriving we hopped on the bus, this is about 18 paragliding pilots, from various countries, plus our kit in a bus with seats built to accommodate 10 schoolchildren it seemed, anyhow we stop at a café and after over a week in India tucking into the very delicious curry complete with garlic, spices and chillies, I have no hesitation in ordering the fish curry, medium hot. Very delicious it was too. By this time it is 10.30pm and we continue the 4 hour drive to the mountains. The next morning after not much sleep, I did not get out of bed except to visit the smallest room.

This is a tropical climate and even though this is a hill station several degrees cooler and drier than the lowlands, I still feel very hot and sick. There feels to be no air and I lie in bed not knowing where to turn. I drink water but it doesn’t stay down. I take a cold shower and rest for the whole day/night.

This day, as it turns out, is the best flying day of the whole lot. Typical.

The hill stations in Kerala are mostly amid tea plantations, its not the most picturesque part, these are down near the coast, but it is still a nice place. The deep green tea bushes cover every hillside broken by small crops of flowers used for the garlands which are popular here. The locals are incredibly friendly, and we appear to be minor celebrities. Everyone waves and stares, we are welcomed in the little shacks which are the local shops. The second day I feel a little better so travel to the event.

In its second year the Fly-In is organized by a very enterprising local, Gopa Varma. It is sponsored by Labor India and the state tourist department. The general idea is to use Paragliding to promote the sport in India generally and also help tourism in the area. Gopa is a keen pilot and wishes other pilots to share his joy of flying in his homeland.

The event is usually over 4 days and we arrive on the second day. I am sick-boy for this day and so arrive on the hill on the afternoon of the 3^rd day. The journey to the hill is worth mentioning, an off road vehicle is necessary for much of the region, although many people take ordinary cars on roads which seem to have been made for four legged travellers. Anyhow, we are transported everywhere curtsey of the organisers by jeep, some of the gliders are strapped to the roof-rack and some hoiked in the back. With nine of us stuffed in, or hanging out, whichever way you want to see it it’s a good job we are the friendly type.

The roof is low so to avoid banging your head you have to brace your hand above your head and the other is probably clutching your crucifix. You are hunched over and at this point racing at high speed over rocks and potholes. Those with a back which is in any way delicate should not apply, and the reason for the race is not clear, we are in no particular hurry however it appears there is some urgency applied to transportation here. It would almost be fun is I wasn’t feeling so Tom Dick.

We eventually arrive and most of the locals seem to have turned out and dressed for the occasion, a couple of hundred people easily. The women and girls in bright Saris or dresses, with small flashes of jewellery. Men are in rich coloured shirts and Lungi, basically a skirt. Yes the men wear white full length skirts which I guess are more like a long bath towel. They can lift the hem from the ground and tie again at their waist to half the length, or just hold the edges and waft it around a bit, they mostly seem to do this a lot. Perhaps it keeps the veg from cooking. It looks very comfortable, though not particularly a good idea while flying so expect I will be giving it a miss on this trip.

The site is nice for flying however there is a problem with the planned landing site, last years LZ is now a pineapple plantation. This is a little unfortunate as the alternatives are (closest first) an uphill lee-side slope, a small boulder-filled dry-river bed or a patch of land with electricity cables on all four sides. This last option is now the official LZ for landing-out and Gopa has arranged for the cables at two ends to be removed during the day. Very accommodating and helpful, not only that but a crowd is waiting with garlands and refreshments and no doubt a warm welcome. I’m sure the pilot would be happy meeting safely with the ground.

So to cut a long story short, I didn’t eat for the next two days and didn’t fly at the event, but had a great time anyway. The food, I told was excellent, the event was fun and the only thing I had to pay for was the internal flight return from Mumbai which as £45. All the costs for the stay were met by the organisers.

All-in-all a great effort and sure to be a popular event in the future. Its certainly different.