Bridging Course

The Bridging Course is the way the Church of South India selects children from Year 5 for entry into the Hostels for the commencement of Year 6.  There was great confusion this year as to whether the course would be held or not.  We were told that it wouldn't be happening and  were duly advised to have our two week break in early May.  This was planned, booked and paid for when we found out that the course was not only on, but would be held at our school.

The course was to run from Friday 1st May to Friday 22nd May and we were leaving on our break on the 5th and returning on the 19th.  We were quite sad at missing the bulk of this but there was nothing we could do about it.

The thing that struck us most about the course was the seeming lack of planning and organisation around such an important event.  A lot has been written about 'The Indian Way' and we still struggle with the poor communication and planning of events such as these.  

So the 1st arrived and in the afternoon we saw the familiar sight of children and parents arriving and heading for the hostel.  There was no apparent registration process, no collection of address or phone details, just a handing over of children and a tearful farewell by some and a wave and goodbye from others.  It was at this stage that we learnt that there would also be boys attending this course.

Most of the children were quiet and some were quite afraid but there was no one around to help them settle in and understand where things were, so we decided to go up to the hostel (which already looked like a bomb had hit it, with biscuit wrappers and all sorts of paper all over the floor - not sure what from).

We gathered a few and sat on the floor and sang songs, while the others sat on the double decker bunks and watched cautiously.    Eventually more came and joined in.   When the songs ran out, we danced (Mexican Hat Dance, Hokey Pokey, Macarina) and even delved into the back of our minds for a few square dance moves.  Gary drew the line at Line Dancing though. 

Eventually it was time for dinner and bed so we departed as the wardens got them organised.  We had a lot of fun and by bedtime we felt had helped them just a little to feel more at home here.

On Saturday we mingled with the camera and took some photos.  Indian children love to have their photos taken so it is a good way to gather a crowd.   We continued to chat with them and IW learnt a lot of their names.

 

Eventually there were kids running everywhere and still no program or direction for them - a great recipe for chaos and that is what we got.  We were not sure of the numbers, but knew there were in excess of 100 ten year old boys and girls who had never been away from home.

It was a long, hard period of time where we realised how great a problem the language barrier was.  Most of these kids had no English at all and those who spoke it had little comprehension.  This caused huge problems as they were full of energy and getting them quiet was almost impossible.  

Our greatest memory of this was when we tried to get them into two circles for a game we wanted to play.  Simple exercise:

• get them all to hold hands
  
• get the last one to stay where he/she was and not move
  
• take the hand of the first one and move off
  
• form the circle by walking in a circle and joining with the last one
  

WRONG!  What you get is a group of boys/girls following you.  We tried all sorts of signs to stay still, even standing and holding the last one, but they were desperate to follow where everyone else was going and we ended in a big mess.  IW was in stitches.

We were informed by our Warden (the lady in charge of the Hostel) that the Director of Hostels would be arriving at 9:00 am to talk to the children so she asked if we could sing with them - no problems! 

 

Imagine this:   The room we were working in was about 10 metres x 6 metres.  There was a small space at the front (6 x 3) where the 'entertainment' took place, a space in the middle which was full of desks and chairs and a small space at the end (6 x 3) which was in fact the boys 'dormitory' where 51 of them slept on the cement floor (no mat, no pillow).  With 110 energetic children and 2 non-tamil speaking adults, it was not a pretty sight???

Nine o'clock came and went and eventually the Warden told us that the Director had been delayed (drrr!).  So we continued to sing and dance and do silly things until eventually at 11:00 am the Director arrived.  All the other wardens who were there to supervise magically appeared and we limped back to our place for a rest.

Next morning we went for morning prayer with them and as usual as soon as we arrived the wardens from the other hostels disappeared.  Even though we were not expected to be there, every time we appeared the wardens disappeared and left us in charge.

 

We still do not understand why the children had to arrive on Thursday night when classes did not start until Monday.  On Friday afternoon we rang Paul Quigley, an Australian who has been here for 18 months.  He had informed us previously that he was doing some teaching in the course and we had arranged for him to stay with us.  He could not throw any light on the situation or timing except the old 'Indian Way' theory.

Paul arrived on Saturday afternoon and settled into our spare bedroom.  Saturday and Sunday played out much the same.  As soon as we poked our heads out all the wardens disappeared and left us with the kids.  It was a riot taking them to Church on Sunday.  IW was sick so stayed at home which left Paul, our Warden, me and two of our Year 9 girls (who slept overnight and were  going to a music camp on Monday), to supervise. The Church is quite large and has hundreds of places for them to explore.  Their favourite was a water dispenser at the front door which all 110 of them had to try at regular intervals because they 'were thirsty'.

The teaching at this course is done by volunteers from schools but there was no timetable evident and apparently would be worked out when they arrived on Monday.  There would be classes of fifty being taught Science, English and Abacus (mental arithmetic).

The sad thing about the weekend was that there were no organised games or organised anything for that matter and because of the language barrier and the absence of the wardens when we appeared, it was impossible for us to actually do much to help.  The children spent a large part of Sunday afternoon sitting quietly on the dirt in the school quadrangle, with a warden (holding a large stick) watching them.  Apparently this is supposed to teach them self-discipline???

Monday came and went with us doing morning and evening prayers and devotions and singing.   Not much teaching was done as they were still organising themselves.  Early Tuesday morning we departed on our holiday feeling very sad at the apparent lack of care being shown for the kids.

Fast forward to Tuesday 19th and we arrive back at the gates of the school at about 10:30 am.  What followed was a time of pure delight.  Children came running from everywhere, laughing and yelling our names.  We felt we had really arrived home by the greetings we were given.  IW had children hanging off her everywhere.  She could not move as they clung to her and asked her to repeat their names.  (Luckily she wrote a lot of the more difficult ones down before she left).

We resumed our evening and morning prayer as well as sitting in on Paul's English class on Wednesday afternoon to help him.  Thursday was exam day so all children were worried about that and constantly asking us to pray for them.

We were given our official invitation to go to the Bridging Course Valedictory Function to be held in the grounds at 10:00 am on Friday morning.  Between Thursday night and Friday morning a transformation occurred.  The children went from village children dressed in their own fairly shabby clothes to school children with crisp clothes - white shirts, grey skirts for the girls/shorts for the boys and black shoes with long white socks.  Apparently local churches and individuals sponsor these items.

        

The Valedictory function was an extravaganza of special guests, speeches, dance, song and dramatisation.  We were joined by thirty students, from a music camp run at a different campus,  who sang accompanied by keyboard and drums.  

A lot of parents showed up although there was a glitch with the dates with parents being advised that the function would be on the 23rd.  Wardens spent a lot of time phoning parents (the night before) to advise them that the course finished on the 22nd and they needed to take the children home with them at the conclusion of the function where the favourite 'mutton briyani' was provided for all.

One unfortunate side effect of this was that one family had provided the wrong phone number so their daughter was left alone overnight at the hostel with the warden until they arrived on Saturday afternoon.

The one thing that struck us about these beautiful children was that they all wanted us to pray for them so they would be blessed for their future.  Waves of children (and parents) came up to us after the valedictory service to be prayed for.  We were overwhelmed and felt privileged to be a part of this time.

We are still waiting to find out which girls will be in our hostel.

The boys doing their dance

Special appearance by Jesus and his disciples

North India Tour - Days 11 - 14 - The Goa Experience

Hot and Sweaty at Miramar Beach

We were picked up after breakfast and transported to Mumbai Airport for our flight to Goa. Goa gets a lot of press over here being referred to as 'The Westerners' Paradise' and the 'Loveliest Place on Earth'.  We wondered how those two titles went together.

A number of people at school told us how much we would enjoy it so we were being suffocated by other people's expectations. We were flying Jet Airways, another budget airline in India. The Airport experience, spoken about at length in other blogs, was as smooth as a Kevin Rudd pre-election speech.

The big surprise came when we boarded the plane. It was fitted with personal entertainment systems offering Movies, Videos etc. The choice of movies was up to date and quite extensive, the disappointment was that the flight was only one hour. I used the time profitably catching up with some Jethro Tull greats followed up with Vince Gill - what a combination.

We landed, collected our luggage and were greeted by the representative from the 'Whispering Palms Resort' - boy, doesn't that sound good! Our image of Goa was beaches, shops and flat coastal strip. We imagined being able to drive from beach to beach (there are in excess of 25 beaches) viewing the beautiful water.

In truth it is one of the most mountainous regions we have seen, especially so close to the water. It reminded us a lot of the coastline of the Italian Riviera where you go up the mountain then down the mountain to get to the next beach. Goa was not as bad as this but getting from place to place was time consuming and generally involved a car being driven by a would-be rally driver who owns the road.

Our drive to 'The Whispering Palms' involved a lot of whispering - prayers actually, that we would not crash head on with a bus as our driver chose to pass other buses on blind corners. It was 60 minutes of white knuckle adventure. There was a lot of horn blowing, a lot of brakes, and a lot of drivers who did not know half as much about driving as our man. He got us there and we did appreciate stepping out of the car into the Hotel foyer.

It is a lovely place and will be our home for the next four days. Our plan is to rest and relax - not get involved with too much sightseeing etc. The package we booked under gives us a half day tour of Goa tomorrow (Saturday) so we will see what that reveals. We are given breakfast and dinner vouchers (you can exchange dinner for lunch if you like).  Meals run on Indian time so lunch doesn't begin until 1:00 pm (our friend Jenny Guyatt would be right at home here) and dinner starts from 8:00 pm.

The place is pretty self contained with a swimming pool, sauna, gym, and organised things on most days for all ages to participate in. We have Dinner - it is a buffet every night which is pretty much exclusively Indian food or you can order a-la-carte (which provides a variety of Chinese and Continental dishes) and pay. We are in India so we go the buffet and find a variety of things that are acceptable to our ever-changing palate.

We awake refreshed and head off down the track to the beach. No togs today just a bit of exploration to see what is around but we do expect to have a swim in the Arabian Sea at some stage of our stay here. IW had a sleep in so it was a bit later than normal and the temperature was high and the sand was very hot. Prior to getting onto the beach you have to cross a tract of red sand and judging by its temperature it is full of sun hungry minerals.

I desperately try to be Australian and walk barefooted but before long turn into a pommy tourist with my footwear on. NOTE TO DAUGHTERS - No, I was not wearing socks with my sandals. We make the sand on the beach which is actually yellow, and eventually the water's edge, where footwear is removed and we paddle as we walk up the beach. The water is incredibly warm (yes, that did surprise us). The biggest surprise however was the presence of Life Guards in the biggest Life Guard beach station we had ever seen.

Not sure why this surprised us but it did. They had their red and yellow flags and their 'danger signs'. It was almost like being back home. We walked for about 40 minutes up the beach encountering small groups of people swimming (in their clothes) and eventually encountering the Goa water vendors peddling everything from para-sailing to jet-ski rides.

We retraced our steps and returned to 'Whispering Palms' for a sit around the pool a light lunch before commencing our tour at 2:00 pm.

We gathered in the foyer and enquired when we would be back. The reply was a quick "You will be back for tea." The alarm bells went off and further questioning revealed that we would be back for tea - at 9:00 pm. The tour departed promptly and for the next seven hours we visited:

• A Temple (drr!)
  
• A couple of Churches
  
• The obligatory shops that were sponsoring the afternoon
  
• Miramar beach to watch the sunset with 20,000 of our close friends
  
• And finished with a one hour boat cruise up the river.
  

It was a delightful time. There were nine other people with us - a mum and dad with their daughter and three young couples on their honeymoon. We had some great conversation with them and they shared with us about their marriages - all arranged by their parents. This was something we had heard about but to have time to talk to three couples about how it worked for them and to see their commitment to each other was quite refreshing.

  

We arrived home almost on the dot of 9:00 pm and headed to the dining room with a couple of our new friends.  We spent a pleasant hour at the Indian Buffet with Ankur and Zunkhnu then headed off for a well earned sleep.

Talk about Sunday being a day of rest!  We only left the room for meals and spent the day sleeping, watching movies, playing computer games and writing stories.  Didn't see anyone, didn't talk to anyone.

Monday dawned and we knew this was the day for the Arabian Sea swim.  We had breakfast and headed to the beach.  Much to our shock, as we crossed the red sand we saw red flags.  How can the beach be closed on such a great day?  We surveyed up and down and couldn't see any signs of danger but no-one was swimming.

We walked down the beach in the opposite direction to Saturday and about 200 metres down the beach passed another red flag.  We then saw people swimming in front of  a group of three lifesavers who were sitting under their palm leaf shelter with the red and yellow flags on the sand in front of them. We kept going to finish our walk and on the way back IW went to ask why the beach was closed.

"Oh no, it is fine to swim here but it is very dangerous where the red flag is."  The red flag was  10 metres away.  We did not ask why the flags for swimming were not up.  We were quickly in the water and had a good time avoiding the viscious shore dumpers.  The water was quite warm so it was not a super refreshing swim but we had done it.

We emerged and continued home where we showered all the sand off at the pool shower and dived in for a cool down.  The pool was a little warmer than the ocean so we were soon out, towelled off and headed back to the room for a rest.

We had arranged to meet some Indian people we met in Brisbane before we left.  The husband is studying for a PhD in Oz and after a 7 month stint in Oz, his wife and children have now returned to their home in Goa.  We caught a taxi to their house and spent several hours chatting and eating the delicious Indian tiffen (snacks) she had for us.

It was then back to our hotel for dinner where IW managed to get in a spot of Karaoke singing at the evening entertainment.  After the standing ovation we returned to our room to pack and make ready for a 6:00 am departure to the airport with the driver from hell.  We would be back 'home' at CSI Jessie Moses Matriculation and Senior Secondary School by 10:00 am tomorrow morning.

All in all it was a great, relaxing time.  Goa did not live up to the expectations we had prior to going.  It was quite dirty, which was surprising with the incredible number of tourists who visit it every year.  It is time consuming to get anywhere and this was the low season.  We would really hate to see it in high season.   The roads are extremely narrow and quite dangerous in places when vehicles pass. Even though people say it is 'The Westerners' Paradise' and the 'Loveliest Place on Earth', we probably would not put it on a list of places we would want to return to.

North India Tour - Day 10

Today we were to visit the Elephanta Caves.  What are the Elephanta Caves?  Good question.  We had never heard of them but once Mumbai was added to the itinerary apparently Elephanta Caves became a must.  According to the official blurb :

"Hewn out of solid rock, the Elephanta Caves date back to 600 AD, and attract more visitors each year than the entire city of Mumbai."

The  caves  are located on Elephant Island about 11 km north-east of the Gate of India (GoI). The island was named after a colossal elephant sculpture found on the island. This sculpture is now housed at Jijamata Garden in the heart of Mumbai.

Shahbaz was to pick us up at 7:30 - we did not know why as on our walk last night we passed all the ticket stands at GoI which stated that the first boat left at 9:00 am.  Seeing that we walked here following Shahbaz's simple 'down the road turn right then left' and got here by foot in 10 minutes, now it was going to take 90 minutes in a car sounded a bit over the top even for India.

Who were we to argue with the expert so we were up early, had a good breakfast then received the 7:25  message that he would not get us until 8:30.  That was OK, still going to take him 30 minutes to drive our 10 minute walk.

We were picked up, driven to the GoI and personally escorted to the stone steps where the thirty boats were tied up.  There were a further 130 anchored about 30 metres away from GoI.  Luckily it was low season.

The boat was a charmer. We boarded and went to go upstairs but there was a small Indian man guarding the steps demanding more money if we wanted to go up.  We declined, not because of the money, more because we are sick of having extra charges put on everything we do.  The seating downstairs offered four options:

1. Wooden benches around the outside
   
2. Cloth-covered seats down the middle for half the length of the boat, which wouldn't fit half a Wallis backside on them
   
3. A row of free-standing plastic chairs directly over the diesel exhaust output from the engine
   
4. A further row of free-standing plastic chairs connected to (2)
   

We discounted (3) due to IW's inability to handle the smell of diesel and the sea in the same journey.  (2) went out because when we tried them we found they slanted forward and when we sat on them we slowly started to slip toward the deck.  That left (1) and (4).  Being thrillseekers we chose (4) because we thought it would be fun to slide backward and forward on the chairs that were not attached to the deck.  Oh for a good Workplace Health and Safety Officer.

We watched people board, head to the stairs, be confronted by the Stair Guard and turn away to find a seat downstairs.  Strangely, our decision making process was followed by most people.  We had a great ride sliding ever so gently back and forward - the only ones who didn't either throw up on the voyage or continually pick themselves up off the deck after slipping off the cloth covered seats.  

It was a one hour trip to the Island which passed fairly quickly especially with the on-board entertainment provided by the seats.  When we arrived at the island we moored at the end of a long stone causeway that was about 300 metres long.

Upon alighting we ran the gauntlet of the vendors and paid our 5 rupee tax charge.  There waiting for us was a 'free' train to transport us to the end of the causeway.  It was only 'free' one way as they charged 25 rupees to take you back to the boat.  After the vendors was an incredibly long, steep, uphill climb which along the way also required the scaling of over 120 steps.  This is where words such as:

• advance warning steep stairs
  
• those with a heart problem
  
• if you recently had a hip replacement
  

come to mind.  Then we saw 'THE SIGN'.  'Chair Lift available - 400 rupees ($12) up and 300 rupees ($9) down.  Could be worth it as IW's knees are not that good.  Then we rounded the corner and there they were, the chair lifts.  As we glanced up, not being able to see the top for fear of damaging our vertebrae we christened what lay ahead as the 'Climb of Hell (CoH)'.

We declined these also as the memory of  'Lance' pushing us up the hill at the Taj mahal still lived in our memory.  We were not ready to put the Indians to another test just yet.

The climb is lined with vendors selling jewellery, cloth, carved elephants etc.  If only there was a Snow Cone Taj Mahal my wallet would be out in a flash.  We kept a steady pace with the Wallis competitive spirit simmering just below the surface.  IW was finding it difficult on the steps but there was a couple in their 80's in front of us so I urged her on with some great Wallis encouragement.

We could not stop as the vendors perched like giant carniverous birds ready to swoop on the first sign of fatigue in the passing tourists.  Fifty steps, wow that was easy (if you were an athlete in his prime).  My clothes changed from crisp and nicely ironed to sort of damp (well wringing wet) cloth clinging to my back and legs.  It must be noted that I was penalised early and had to do the CoH carrying a 20kg backpack.

We reached the top with no great injury.  IW was a champion - we left those 80 year olds in our wake.

At the top were the ticket booth and the monkeys.  We paid our money and followed the signs.  There were five caves of varying sizes.  All had been carved out of the rock.  Some surfaces were highly polished and others quite rough.  There were various Hindu gods inside but most had been badly damaged by the Portugese army using them as target practice.  This gave the appearance of a quite sad, uncared for place.  There was rubbish everywhere which added to the confusion for us as to why this was the most popular tourist destination in Mumbai.

We headed down to meet the boat. IW engaged in her usual banter with the vendors when she inadvertantly stopped and picked up some stone necklaces.  The bartering began and she ended up buying two for 100 rupees ($3).  Who knows what they are made of or what their real worth is.  IW is happy, the vendor is happy and I am happy as my wallet is a bit lighter.

We had plenty of time for the boat, so declined the 25 rupee 'free' train ride and walked back to the boat.  The trip home took 90 minutes as there was a pretty fierce head wind that bounced us, the chairs and the people sitting next to the diesel outlet around. We had negotiated with the driver that we would walk the arduous 10 minutes home and he was to pick us up at 3:00 pm to continue on our tour of Mumbai.

Promptly at 3:00 pm Shahbaz arrives wanting to take us to this temple and that temple etc.  I leaned over and said "Shahbaz we have seen enough old things, how about we change the itinerary and tour the great sporting arenas of Mumbai".  This threw him a bit as the first thing he showed us was a local cricket field. There was a game going on so it was good.  He then explained that the 'big' cricket field was two hours drive away (for me, I immediately translated that into about 20km).

We did get to the Royal Western India Turf Club which I knew would be of interest to several of the Wallis Clan. Unfortunately we could not get in so had to resort to the old 'over the back straight fence' shots.

We were then asked if we would like to see the Dhoby Ghaut.  The only thing I know of this name is a subway station in Singapore.  When we asked what it was, Shahbaz just replied "I think you will like it."  Shortly after he pulls up on a bridge and tells us to get out and have a look over the stone wall at the Dhoby Ghaut.

 

A bit of research revealed the following:

Dhoby Ghaut literally means washing place in Hindi, 

from Dhobi - literally meaning washerman or one who does laundry and 

Ghaut - meaning a large open space. 

Dhobis call on regular clients, collect their dirty clothes and then take them to the Dhobi Ghauts. The famous Dhobi Ghat of Mumbai, India, has rows of  wash pens, each with its own flogging stone. The Dhobi sloshes dirty linen into a soapy water mixture, thrashing it with the flogging stones, and then puts the linen into huge vats of starch. After it is dried, it is ironed and delivered to the owners. This is however not a standard practice of dhobis in general. In a large number of areas in the country, dhobis have migrated to washing machines and dryers, using the modern detergents.  The people live in these slumlike dwellings right next to a huge railway station.  Very depressing actually.

After departing the largest outdoor laundry in the world we were taken to a hill overlooking the bay where the Botanical Gardens are situated.

It is a spectacular site and although the flowers were not in bloom, there were plenty of families taking in the Gardens and the view.

We were soon back in our hotel and heading for the rooftop restaurant to watch some cricket and have something to eat overlooking the beautiful Mumbai coastline.

That was Mumbai. a great city surrounded by water, relatively clean, easy to get around.  Well worth a few days' visit. Tomorrow we head to Goa for our final four days.

North India Tour - Day 9

Today is a sad day.  We say good bye to Ram.  We are flying to Mumbai where we will pick up a new driver and Ram will do the big 670 km solo drive from Udaipur airport back to his family in Delhi.

We don't know how he will survive without us feeding him and offering him good quality Australian humour that he doesn't understand.  He anticipates it will take him two days to get home.

The Udaipur airport is 25 km from our hotel so is a one hour drive. When we arrive we are shocked. Here on the outskirts of this small (by Indian standards) town is a brand new shining, glistening, clean airport.  Not many people here so we stay together and head to where the check in baggage is scanned.  We are flying with Kingfisher Airlines which is the Indian version of Virgin Air in Australia.  We don't know which came first but the colour schemes and the employees uniforms are almost identical.

There is one scanning machine and approximately six different airlines that fly out of this airport.  Small Indian point here - rather that have one scanning team, every airline has its own team to scan the luggage for their customers.  We identify that we are flying with Kingfisher and are told we have to wait as Air India guys are using the machine and Kingfisher scanner-man is not there.

Before long they grab our bag and place it on the conveyor belt.  We walk to the other end where the tape machine is being rethreaded, from Indian Air tape to Kingfisher tape.  The pain of the check in at Chennai just eight days ago has almost faded but we grip each other's hand as we retrieve our bag and head off to see the Udaipur CIC.

No line, a very pleasant lady kingfisher attends to us and we have our boarding passes at breakneck speed.  Find a comfy seat to relax while we wait.  There are a couple of shops so IW is off to explore.  She has purchased some potato chips and ordered coffee.  The coffee is delivered by the shop keeper.  What great service!

We open the laptop to check email and do some work on the blog then IW engages is a few games of Majong to pass the time.  IW has taken to Windows Vista Majong ever since I forgot to pack her books when we left nine days ago.

We are only 40 minutes late in our departure, have a good flight and by the time we collect our bags at Mumbai are about one hour behind our schedule but dead on time Indian wise.  We exit and begin the scan of the fifty men holding up scraps of paper with names on them.  Again the white faces work as he spots us long before we see him.  There he stands, arms waving frantically.  We wave back and head off to the car.

We are soon on the road.  Mumbai traffic is different.  We pass several large signs urging drivers not to blow their horns and reminding them that it is illegal to use a mobile phone while driving and that seat belts must be used - not that they paid too much attention to the last two.  They seem to understand part of the message as although the traffic is thick,  there is a quietness about it that we haven't 'heard' in the rest of India.  There is still the occasional blast as they persist with the habit of forming extra lanes whenever the traffic stops.

Our new driver's name is Shahbaz.  He is younger and does not talk as much as Ram so we have to enquire about things we are passing.  We ask him to find a Post Office as we have some mail to post.  As usual the drive to the Hotel via the Post Office is slow and full of stops but Shahbaz double parks at the PO allowing IW to scamper (maybe an over exaggeration of description there) inside.

By the time we get to our hotel it is late afternoon.  It is a very pleasant hotel in the Muslim quarter, a short walk from the water's edge.  We settle in, then decide to explore the neighbourhood before dinner.

Down the road, turn right then left and presto, before us unfolds of the picture postcard scene of the harbour.

Glancing up to the left along the path that follows the shoreline are crowds of people enjoying the sunshine and the view.  Further up we see one of the sights of Mumbai, the Gate of India.

This famous monument is the starting point for most tourists who want to explore the city. It was built as a triumphal arch to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary, complete with four turrets and intricate latticework carved into the yellow basalt stone. Ironically, when the Raj ended in 1947, this colonial symbol also became a sort of epitaph: the last of the British ships that set sail for England left from the Gateway. Today this symbol of colonialism has got Indianised, drawing droves of local tourists and citizens. Behind the arch, there are steps leading down to the water. Here, you can get onto one of the bobbing little motor launches, for a short cruise through Mumbai's splendid natural harbour.

We continue our walk along the foreshore where the air is thick with chatter, laughter and the cries of assorted vendors peddling their wares. You can snack on anything from fruit chaat (fruit salad with hot, spicy dressing), through bhelpuri (a snack of puffed rice, spices and hot, sweet and sour chutney), chana jor garam (spicy chickpeas), dal ka pakodas (fried lentil-flour dumplings), potato chips to ice cream, candy floss and aerated drinks.

There are fancy horse-drawn carrriages to take a short ride in but the most impressive thing is the people.  There is a mixture of tourists like us that can be picked out but the majority are Indian families strolling around the gate enjoying the sights, the coolish breeze and the clear weather.

When approached now I reply with my one standard French phrase of "Parlez vous Francais".  This seems to slow them down as they seem to be conditioned to reply in English so I just shrug my shoulders in an arrogant French way and move on.  I guess one day I will encounter an Indian who speaks French but then my plan will be to morph into an Italian.

A touch of Monty Python appeared here for me.  If you are a fan of Monty Python's 'Life of Brian' you will remember the 'People's Front of Judea' and the 'Judean People's Front'. You see in Mumbai you have 'The Gate of India' and in Delhi there is 'The India Gate'.  I guess it is OK for a country to have two gates.

After circumnavigating the Gate we head off down the road to explore. We have a rough idea where our Hotel is and have the address so if we get hopelessly lost we will jump in a cab for the trip home.  After a few turns we encounter 'one of those streets'.  Packed with shops and people - a pick pocket's dream and a tourist's delight.

We spend an hour or so strolling and looking, me perfecting my French shrug and IW daring to stop and talk and be inundated with new friends.  We eventually find a small eatery that seems to have a good menu and a few people inside.  We go in and sit down then all the others sitting jump to their feet.  Seems they are the staff and we are their first customers of the night - not a good sign.

We wonder if we should leave but they are friendly and are personal friends of Ricky Ponting (as is half of India when they find out you are Australian), so we stay.  The food was good and so was the price.  We stroll back to the Hotel for a good night's rest and look forward to a day of exploring Mumbai with Shahbaz tomorrow.

The Gateway of India - Mumbai

North India Tour - Day 7,8

We are combining two days into this one story.  This is another two night stay in a place called Udaipur the City of Lakes.  We drove from Jodhpur to Udaipur which was another 300+ km day (with a/c all day) visited the Ranakpur Jain Temple along the way arriving in Udaipur late in the afternoon.  Next day we were scheduled to visit the sites of Udaipur in the morning and have a cruise on Lake Pichola in the afternoon visiting the Palace built on an island in the lake.  Here is how it all unfolded. 

For some reason Ram did not want to depart until 9:30 today.  This was a bit confusing considering the distance to travel.  We trusted him so had a relaxing morning then on the dot of 9:30 we jumped into the cocoon and headed out of Jodhpur.

Once again Ram used 4th gear magnificently in the city traffic.  It was the usual cars, trucks, autos everywhere with horns blaring but with many shudders we 'glided' effortlessly out of the city.

Roads here are really quite horrendous with huge craters everywhere.  I was going to use the word pothole there (as we do in Oz for a hole in the road) but it is just the wrong word for Indian roads.  Small cars have been lost for days in these craters.  This is one of the reasons for slow travel.  Another is that to reduce speeding on the open road the Indian Transport Department has come up with this great idea of putting speed bumps on the highway.

These are laid in a series of three about 50 cm apart.  They are well disguised and have no warning.  THEY ARE EFFECTIVE!  You either pay attention and slow to a crawl to get over them or you manoeuvre your car to the side of the road and the tow truck comes to get you after you have broken your axle.  There are lots of cars on the side of the road as you drive past these incredibly devised traffic calmers.

Sometimes you are even lucky enough to get the combined traffic calmer/crater combination which is a real treat and adds to the excitement.  I am amazed at the skill of Ram and how he can negotiate these obstacles in 4th.  You don't have to change down as you don't actually stop.

India fact:  Every 400 miles you travel there is a new language to learn.  The diversification of language here is incredible.  There are 15 major languages and over 100 minor ones.  The few words and phrases (Tamil) that Lynn has mastered are useless here.  Although Hindi is India's official language, English is also enshrined in the constitution for a wide range of official purposes, notably communication between Hindi and non-Hindi states.    All of these languages also have their own scripts.  It plays havoc with National Broadcasting.

It was a long drive to Ranakpur, no stopping Ram today - with the a/c fixed and a late start he was a man  on a mission.  We had a supply of biscuits, bananas and Tic Tac's which we continued to feed him as he relentlessly pushed on to our goal.  We arrived at about 1:15 pm and received our instructions.  

No entry fee but a 50 rupee fee for a camera or 200 rupees for a movie camera.  This is standard across every place you visit with some policing it more than others.  Seeing that most cameras take both still and video and every phone takes both, it becomes a bit of a joke for a lot of people.  We continue to try to do the right thing except here when we are nearly at the entrance and I remember I have the movie camera in my pocket. 

They have the electronic wand out and there are beeps everywhere as they detect people's phones and take them away.  When they 'wand' me I go off like the 1812 overture.  Indian mobile in one pocket, Aust mobile in another with the movie camera.  Will IW ever see me again?  What does the Jain sect say about forgiveness - if only I had done more reading in comparative religions.

I immediately pulled out my Indian phone and could show it was so cheap that it did not have a camera.  Then the guard pointed to my other pocket and inspiration came from somewhere beyond me as I blurted out "My Australian phone - doesn't work here".  I don't know if the guard could speak English but he just waved me through.

I looked around for IW but at this stage she had distanced herself from me and was mixing with a group of Italians using her twenty words of Italian.  Unfortunately none of the Italians wanted to sell her any ham, cheese or bread.

She claims it was a deliberate ploy in case I got arrested and threatened with deportation.  It has happened before to the Wallis name.  Of course I believed her, was reunited and off we went to view the temple.

This is one of the five main holy places of the Jain sect.  Though over 500 years old, the temple here is very well preserved and is in good condition.  The temple has twenty-nine halls which contain 1,444 marble pillars of which no two are alike.  I was personally unable to prove this point as in searching, they all looked alike and I kept losing where I was up to.

One of the problems inside was that there were signs that you could take photos of anything except Jain gods.  Now this place was full of strange and interesting sculptures and as previously mentioned, I would not at this point of the tour class either IW or I as a Jain expert.  We do our best and as we swing around a corner there are all these niches in the wall with barred gates.  I immediately became an expert in what a Jain god looks like.

Unfortunately a young Indian guy in front of me was not as clever and was happily snapping away when the whistles began to blow and the camera police started to run from everywhere.  The young Indian started to run as well. 

Question:  Where do you hide in a Jain temple that you have been inside for ten minutes when being chased by people who live there?

Answer: Not behind one of the 1,444 columns that look different from each other.  Especially if the columns are thinner than you.

The young Indian was given a good talking to then taken off somewhere, probably to have the photos deleted and be evicted from the site.  I thought of many other options but the editor thought that we should go with that one.  Shame really as the one about .... sorry, can't tell you.

After we rejoined Ram we had 50 km to go to reach Udaipur.  Once again I would like to point out that these were 50 Indian kms on Indian roads.  Enough said, it took us two hours to reach our hotel.

I cannot remember if I have delivered this piece of advice to anyone thinking of travelling to India, but if I have, I will tell you again as it is good to know.  Never, never, never ask an Indian how far it is to somewhere but instead ask them how long it will take to get there.  They are very good at  knowing travelling times but are appallingly bad at knowing how far it is.

We arrived at the Ram Pratap Palace at about 4:30 pm.  It has been a great day and we have laughed a lot, fed Ram a lot, and arrived safely.  Three big pluses.

We dined that night at the restaurant across the road from our hotel.  It is a delightful garden restaurant with tables in the open air right on Lake Pichola and is a beautiful setting and the food was great and the famous Indian exfoliation breezes has been replaced by a gentle warm breeze off the lake.

Dinner by Lake Pichola

After breakfast we visited the small shop in the Hotel and again heard the story about how we were visiting in the wrong season as it was too hot and we related back to him the story about it was this time or never.

He thanked us for coming to have a look and then went into the standard story about how in low season they get no visitors so if we would only buy something it would bring him luck.  We had to meet Ram for our day's tour so we said we would visit again tomorrow morning when we (ie IW) had time.

Today we had scheduled the normal tour of major city sites then in the afternoon a motor launch ride to see the Palace on the lake.  This was the palace used in the James Bond movie "Octopussy" and we were looking forward to seeing it.

We were disappointed when Ram picked us up and said there would be no launch ride as they had been cancelled due to the low water levels in the lake.  
We spent the morning looking at the City Palace which was nice, but passed on the Temples.  We then visited the botanical gardens which again would be magnificent after the monsoon season but we had a pleasant walk around and once again were inundated by touts at the gate and also Indian families who wanted to have their photo taken with us.  We are going to miss this celebrity status when we leave India.  If we had 1oo Rupees for every photo taken with us (the price some Indians ask when we want to take their photo), we would have paid for our holiday.

We arrived home about lunch time and had a rest.

Mid afternoon we decided to get off the tourist sites and meet the locals.  We went for a walk and then jumped in an auto and gave some vague instructions about where we wanted to go.  He nodded in agreement and then proceeded to do what all good auto drivers do and take us to his mate's store which has the "best prices, but you don't have to buy anything just look".

His mate promotes artists which is good but unfortunately we have not taken a liking to Indian art yet.  I find it hard to hide my displeasure so wander around the shop looking at stuff while IW is the ever patient visitor listening and chatting.  You would think that after 36 years of marriage IW would have caught a little bit of my abrupness when dissatisfied.

We eventually leave the shop, give the auto driver some money and head off on foot.  What a great time we had, down the road, round the corner and about 300 shops awaited selling all the things we didn't want.  But being white we obviously wanted to buy:

• a rug
  
• a pashmir
  
• shoes that are too narrow for our broad feet
  
• material (IW liked this one)
  
• jewellery
  
• candle holders
  
• drums
  
• carved elephants with baby elephants inside them (again!)
  
• carvings of various Hindu gods
  
• etc etc
  

We had the time of our life.  For about three hours we were with the people, talking and bartering, looking at everything, laughing with them then moving on and actually buying nothing.  We eventually hailed an auto and headed back to our hotel for dinner by the lake.

Udaipur, the City of Lakes, is a beautiful place and would be well worth a visit after the monsoons when the lake is filled again.

Palace on the Lake in the evening across the mud flats taken from our outdoor Restaurant