It’s a Crappy Business

OK first a warning: this bit is about toilet. It concerns bodily functions and uses a couple of rude words and crude terms, so Mum, I’m sorry and to everyone else you have been warned.

Before coming to India I Googled many things, diet and hygiene seemed to come up a lot without me searching specifically for them. This issue is of course not restricted to India but concerns travel and being away from home in general.

Lots of things can upset a persons system, knock it for six or give you the skits. If after a ‘safe’ meal you find yourself confined to the smallest room you will have plenty of time to meditate on the cause as the world falls out of your bottom. If the water was bottled, the food hot and well prepared in a reputable kitchen, and you scrubbed your hands very well then the cause will probably be a mystery, especially if your friends shared the same food and are all fine. Perhaps it was something at breakfast which was on a time delay…

Incidentally as I write this at 11pm waiting for a train in Pune, I notice the passengers from the incoming train on the far track do not bother using the footbridge to cross the line they just nip across the tracks and help each other up onto the high platform, young and old, it strikes me that it must be very difficult to be a rebel in India, no one does as you expect. How can you be a non-conformist in a country where people choose which rules to follow and which to ignore?

Anyhow, back to poo, as Tigger once said (though that would have been Pooh).

So you’re not feeling too well but your friends are fine, if they are local then the reason is obvious as they are used to the food and water wherever you are, but this does not help you avoid the problem the next time, which food do you take and which do you leave? It’s a lottery. So getting sick once in a while is the norm for me, I continue to be reasonably adventurous and try new things, within certain limits. It doesn’t help that I really enjoy food and will pretty much try anything, the rabbit curry (not recommended incidentally if you ever come across it in a small café in Kerala) is a case in point, had I stuck to a plain omelette that evening then I may have eaten something in the three days that followed, as it was my stomach would not even accept water for a while.

Some chaps are painting the station ceiling, its 11.15pm. They are using pale blue paint with a long pole, a plastic tube and a pump. The system is working well, the ceiling is now powder blue, as is the platform, the benches, the light fittings, and the passengers. I keep moving down the platform as this is a new shirt and I quite like the colour. I expect a new team will come and clean-up tomorrow, but that’s the way things seem to be in India.

OK so this time of year (April) its pretty hot I have not felt like eating much, so in the mornings I’ve been eating only fruit, typically half a kilo of green grapes and three bananas. The fruit here is delicious and cheap, this meal costs me about 20 pence. Also I should now mention at this point that regarding my bowel movements, to use a train analogy, the engine has been stuck in the yard for some time now, the rolling stock has not been released, erm.. the big engine is backed-up in the tunnel. OK I’m constipated. I know this makes no sense and I have no explanation for it, I’m eating all this fruit and then vegetable curry twice a day, I should be pebble-dashing the bathroom but for whatever reason its not happening for me.. until yesterday. I’d had a good days flying, and we had been out in the strong Indian sun all afternoon with no shade, I’d not worn my hat which was stupid of me. At the end of the day my face felt hot, glowing in fact, and I knew I’d overdone it. I definitely had a very mild heatstroke.

As we neared home I felt the need, the need to speed somewhere pretty darn quick. My buttocks were clenched tighter than a Yorkshireman’s purse (I can say that I’m a Yorkshireman) and I only just made it to the bathroom before the points switched, and believe me there was a whole goods train of traffic. I spent a large portion of that evening driving the porcelain train; it was unfortunate that the toilet was not built to take that amount of business. The pan was not bolted to the floor and rocked from side-to-side which meant that every usage was a dance. Of course this affected the pipe which led from the pan to the cistern so that it leaked when the toilet was flushed so a small pool always lay around the base of the loo. Additionally the pipe movement lifted the cistern off its little hooks so that it began to rest on my back which meant I was pinned in position pending a further flood. Luckily I had with me a copy of the Times Of India, not a very good paper incidentally, the India Express is better, not as many ads.

I am now on the Mumbai train to Delhi, but only for 9 stops.. I think. I struggle to find a spot as the train is quite busy. There are sacks of grain and sleeping people everywhere, and I mean everywhere, floor, luggage racks, seats, and these include babies and old ladies. A man kindly moves his feet after I stand forlorn for a while and I perch on the end of a bench. My feet are very close to an old ladies face as she sleeps lying on the floor. Two children are curled at my side and I try to keep very still to avoid waking anyone. Five stops later the train remains at the station and does not move for 20 minutes, I don’t know why, it’s very hot. I don’t feel uncomfortable in India now, people still stare, sometimes I ignore it, sometimes I stare back until they look away. Foreigners are not as uncommon a sight as they once were, however I’m typically the only non-Indian on any train or bus or in the street so and still a novelty item for most people. Blending in is impossible, though I do try.

So anyhow, I am now totally cleaned-out. My system has been very well flushed, forget colonic irrigation,
come to India. Oh and another good thing to come from this episode is that I am now proficient at Indian botty washing, which is actually quite easy and very hygienic (in a well equipt toilet). Originally I was carrying small wads of Andrex with me, and still do incidentally, but am now cool with the squirt and wash method which gets things squeaky clean. The only downside is having a wet bot for a little while after, but in a hot country this is soon gone. Its nice and cool for a bit actually.

A small boy has lain down next to the old woman, I am now effectively pinned. The is no obvious route to the door without treading on someone unless I can hop onto a sack of grain. Looks like I’m going to Dehli.

This link will enable you to download Google Earth KMZ file of a recent flight I had at Pavna Lake, Kamshet, Mahararashta.



Give it a try here

.

Uploaded a few new pics to flickr

*************************************************

Japalouppe - Kamshet

I am now staying at the base used by Temple Pilots, an equestrian ranch called Japalouppe. Based in Kamshet near Pune (pronounced Poonah), Temple Pilots is the most successful and well respected paragliding schools in the region. Run by Avi, ex-RAF pilot, and his wife Anita, the school has a good throughput of P1 and P2 pupils and a growing number of Club Pilots who fly under the protective wing of the Club and its very experienced instructors.

Japalouppe is used by the school as a base for briefings, food and lodgings, and consists of a couple of bunkhouses, and a lodge. Here at the ranch kids from well-off Indian families can come and horse ride, scream, shout, run-about and cause general mayhem. There are stables, countless dogs, four Labrador puppies, a very vocal cat and some very cute two-day old kittens.

Also dotted around the place are a dozen geese, three tiny little bright yellow fluffy goslings, some goats, fish in two large fish tanks, a visiting Kite who calls here for his breakfast every morning, flocks of big black crows and about a zillion flies and mosquitoes.

Facilities are very basic when compared to the UK and it is something you have to get used to in India generally. The dorms have bunk beds and noisy ceiling fans, and mosquitoes are a problem, having said that I do sleep well and the atmosphere is always fun in the bunkhouse. The showers are camp-site style, usually cold (which I prefer personally in the heat) .. shaving isn’t much fun, not had a hot water shave since I arrived, but hey.. in a warm country its always lots easier to shave anyhow. All-in-all a welcoming place to stay if you love animals and don't mind a busy environment.. Incidentally the owner Lorraine and her son Rohan and staff are great people and will make your stay a lot of fun.

Flying

Paragliding is very much in its infancy here and is within the reach of only a lucky few. The new students I have met are mostly young and successful; every one is a graduate and successful in the corporate world, others are older business people. Interestingly there is a good mix of the sexes, with young women from the media, design, and banking industries.

I have been going out every morning with the paragliding students and practising ground handling in the mornings, then we all get back for lunch and a siesta as the day gets hotter. The heat is pretty oppressive, I’m drinking several litres of water per day without much need to visit the smallest room, so to speak, and theoretically this means I need to drink more, which would almost mean an intravenous drip by my reckoning. Also I have to remember to take salt, this makes a change from trying to keep a low salt diet.. bring on the snacks! The weather is fairly predictable, as of course it never rains until the rainy season in May/June, and the wind direction is also seasonal. The strength and direction may be off a little, but usually the instructors get it right.. so much easier than the UK.

Generally flying has been good though I do not have anywhere near as much airtime by now as I'd hoped. My total so far is around three hours, which for almost a month is hopeless. On the positive side I've seen and done loads and made tons of new friends. I'm familiar with some tremendous new flying sites and pretty much set-up to visit them when I want. Soon I'll be moving to a new location and should be able to hook-up with other pilots and fly every day.

OK that’s all for now. Off to find a cool beer..

India prices in UK pounds

Some prices for you (approx and rounded down, 100INR is as near to £1 for me not to bother calculating exactly.. OK its £1.18 (27/03/07) if you want to be exact))

Bottle of water 15p
1^st Class ticket for 1 and half hour journey £2.60
2^nd Class ticket for same trip 18p

Yes you read that correctly, a train ticket can cost the same as a bottle of water. Train journeys deserve their own chapter, truly incredible, so I’ll leave that little chestnut for later.

Huge juicy watermelon 35p
1L Kingfisher beer in market 80p, in bar £1.70
1L imported single malt Whisky £5
Petrol 60p litre
Fresh coconut as a snack, (top chopped off and straw stuck in, then later chopped open so you can eat the flesh 15p)
Bananas couple of pence each, grapes 25p half kilo
Soap 20p, talc 35p etc.
Trousers or shirt you can get for £2
Sandals £4

As I sit here I notice a new mozzie bite on my foot and it itches. Bugger.

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.

Mumbai 5-7th March

OK this is gonna have to be quick, I am sat in a small dark, backstreet internet cafe in Mumbai, the air is so thick with insense it is difficult to breathe. This is day 7 in India and I am having an unbelievable time, of course it is hot, baking hot in the middle of the day, my skin is blotchy with mosquito bites, the sandals I bought are starting to rub, and almost everything around me is different to what I am used to, but I'm loving it.

I am taking a break from my stay with friends in Virar to visit this city of 15+ million people. Using the train, even 1st class was hilarious, people squeezed into every corner with their bags held above thier heads, and even hanging outside (there are no doors) and these were businessmen in smart clothes. The sprint for a space starts well before the train has stopped with people running on the platform to jump into the carriage. I was lucky enough to have got a space at the start of the line otherwise I expect I would still be stood at the station now!

Its a bit odd being centre of attention most of the time, people are more used to foreigners than they have been in the past, expecially in the cities where I have seen lots of white faces, but you still have to get used to stares and inspecion. For example I used my mobile whilst ejoying a Kingfisher beer in the Leopold Cafe, and was soon in deep conversation with a bunch of waiters regarding its features and the cost of it in England (its difficult explaining the cost and I couldn't bring myself to confess how much it actually was). Using a camera draws similar attention, and I find that I don't use it as much as I would like, it just feels wrong some of the time. Staring poverty in the face is not easy to come to terms with, neither is being forced to ignore all the beggars and poor.

Soon I travel to Kerala to Vega 2007 , and afterwards I'll be coming back to the Maharashtra area and hopefully get some serious flying done in the Westen Ghats. I managed a quick 20min flight last friday in Virar but nothing since, will post something on that soon.

Net access is slow and so far I have not been able to upload any photos to flickr, hopfully I'll find a way of doing this soon.