India - Jan/Feb 2025

января - февраля 2025
  • Tim's Travels
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  • Tim's Travels

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  • Day 31 - Аҩы ҳақәгәыӷуеит.

    6 февраля, Индия ⋅ 🌙 22 °C

    10:30
    The sensible bed time + comfy bed strategy pays significant dividends. Although I’m awake a little earlier than planned, I’ve had a cracking sleep, and feel super refreshed. I’m not particularly hungry after my fairly late and substantial dinner last night, so decide to skip breakfast. This may not end up being the wisest of ideas when I’ve a day of wine-tasting planned, but that’s a bridge we shall cross when it becomes a bridge.

    I make use of the excellent high-speed WiFi in the hotel to download some TV and movies for the remainder of my trip, and to make sure my Kindle library is up to date. My driver is picking me up at 10:00, so I jump in the shower. Oh my goodness - it features both great water pressure and properly hot water, something I’ve not experienced in combination in a month. Were there a bathtub, I would have one.

    I also decide to continue the trend of not looking like a cross between a Dickensian street urchin, and a redneck hick. I can’t quite bring myself to wear actual trousers, but a pair of three-quarters is slightly smarter than the shorts I’ve been living in for the past 4 weeks.

    I wear a shirt. An honest-to-god actual shirt. I’ve been carrying this same shirt around the world with me for the past 18 months, and don’t think I’ve worn it once. It’s become something of a running joke. I ALWAYS pack it, I NEVER wear it. Apparently, Tamsin encouraged Felix to take some smart clothes to Thailand and Cambodia with us, as he put it, “Just in case we get invited to tea with the royal family…” I’ve simply never felt the need during my travels to dress more smartly than a t-shirt. I’m not 100% sure what to expect at the various wineries I’ll visit today. Some, I’m sure, will be pretty ramshackle and rudimentary. Others look to be more similar to the wineries we’ve visited in South Africa, Australia and California. and have cool looking restaurants attached to them. I have a sneaking suspicion I’ll blend in better if I don’t look like I’m there to pick the grapes. All told, it feels part funny and part sad to be breaking out my shirt on one of the very last days of my extended travelling escapade.

    Lots of folks have asked me (and I’m sure will continue to do so) whether I’m ready to go back to work / sad to be ending my sabbatical/ will miss travelling etc etc. I’ve had a lot of time to think about these various questions, and:

    1) I’m genuinely excited to be going back to work. In an ideal world, Vicki and I could retire now, and still have the disposable income to travel whenever we want. So I HAVE to go back to work. Given that’s the case, I can’t think of a better combination of factors in a job to get me excited for work. Awesome people - check. People that I’ve worked with before, know and trust - check. Getting well remunerated - check. Working in an industry that I know and continue to find fascinating - check. Managing to negotiate 2 months of time off per year so I can still travel - check.

    This all adds up to ‘not ideal world, but as close as I think I can realistically get to it while still holding down a job’ territory.

    2) Of course I’m sad to be ending my sabbatical. The last 15 months have been amongst the most enjoyable of my life. That they came about after the loss of my Dad notwithstanding, I can’t imagine a better way to spend time than travelling the world, experiencing new places and cultures, meeting new people, seeing new things. I don’t think a world exists where I won’t want to do more of it.

    My deal with my new company is that I can take a few weeks of unpaid leave every year, to top up their already generous leave allowance. Vicki is planning to do something similar in future years - which will allow us to take some extended trips together, while still having the time for music festivals, some ski trips, more local holidays, weekends away to catch up with our more distant UK friends… We both feel that some of the further flung places we want to visit will benefit from a 3-4 week trip, and balancing that with all the ‘other’ stuff we wanna do has been tricky in the past. The older we get, the more we both value and crave the opportunity to spend some real time in a destination to get to know it, its people, its culture and its foibles.

    11:00
    Well, that was a very pleasant drive through some countryside. We arrive at our first stop, a small winery called Nipha. They cultivate a mix of red and white grapes - Chenin Blanc, Chardonnay, Muscat and Syrah. Their wines get great reviews. Very excited to try some. As we near, my driver looks suspicious. His sat nav is directing us into a field. I encourage him onwards. Nope - it’s definitely a field. We look a little flummoxed, until I notice a small track leading away from the field. I urge Yash onwards, and we’re rewarded with a sign for Nipha! Unfortunately, it’s accompanied by another sign saying that their tasting hours on weekdays are from 17:00-19:00. Curses. This is not entirely in agreement with their own website, upon which I must say I’d slightly relied…

    Nevermind - onwards to Chandon. This is a property owned by the Moet et Chandon people. They’ve been investing incredibly heavily in wine-growing estates outside of the Champagne region of France in recent years - I suspect largely as a hedge against global warming, and to ensure they have enough vineyards in suitably climated areas to continue to meet demand. They’ve bought up large estates in the US, Australia, Brazil and Argentina, and I think own some vineyards in the UK now as well. It looks a more organised affair, with an actual tasting room, and a restaurant and that sort of jazz. First, we need to traverse 40km of rough roads through Indian villages. Wish me luck….

    11:35
    Yash speaks no English. None. When asking him earlier to put the front passenger seat forward so I could stretch out my legs, he passed me his phone and asked me to type into Google Translate. The translation was to Abkhaz. Now, Abkhaz is a language of the Caucasus, that slightly chaotic region that effectively joins Europe to Asia. Abkhazia is a semi-autonomous region of Georgia, and borders the Black Sea. It must be 4,000 kilometres from here, and I find myself wondering why it’s Yash’s preferred language, and if he’s a native of Abkhazia, what he’s doing in deepest, darkest Maharashtra.

    Of course, my ability to have this conversation with Yash is limited, because he doesn’t speak any English. To communicate with him, I have to use Google Translate to translate my English into Abkhaz, and send it to him on WhatsApp. I don’t wish to do too much of this, for fear that it might distract him from his already erratic driving. I do so only once on the journey between Nipha and the Chandon winery, and that’s to ask him (politely, natch) to slow down, that I’m no hurry. He looks a little offended by this, or at the very least, disappointed. Tough shit Yash. My safety > your ego.

    12:20
    I’m realising already that today’s post is gonna be a long one.

    I find myself sitting in the beautifully manicured gardens at the Chandon winery. The French heritage is plain to see. I’m sipping a delicious Délice - a style of sparkling wine that has sadly gone out of fashion in recent years, but which is the ultimate companion to my doing of absolutely nothing.

    On arrival at Chandon, I find the tasting room deserted. Not even a Chandon employee. I wander down a corridor to something called the wine gallery, which turns out to be a collection of artworks inspired by wine. Pretty cool actually. I visit the gents, and when I come out, I finally find a human. My new friend Sarjat asks if I would like to taste some wines. My eyes clearly bulge as I say yes, and he chuckles. We sit at the otherwise deserted tasting bar, and he tells me about the Chandon wines.

    There are 3 x sparklers, and a still wine. We start with the bubbles. A really good Brut, which is less dry than I was expecting. It contains quite a lot of Chenin Blanc, which explains the fruitiness of the wine. I’m pleasantly surprised to learn that the winemakers here aren’t trying to mimic Champagne. They use the traditional methods of creating sparkling wines, but use the grapes that best represent the terroir of the vineyard. As a result, 60% Chenin in a Brut style sparkling wine, and it works - really well.

    Their Rosé is extraordinary. It’s made entirely from Shiraz. Sparkling Shiraz I’ve had in the past has been bold, and typically a dark pink colour. Chandon’s is a delicate and pale salmon pink, and has flavours of strawberry in the palate. It’s an absolute banger.

    Next up is the still wine - also made from 100% Shiraz. The nose suggests rough tannins, but in the mouth it’s actually a lot more refined than I’d expected. Quite fruit forward, but without a ton of sugar. It’s been designed to pair with ‘Indian’ food. When I point out that there’s really no such thing, Sarjat admits that that’s a bit of marketing spin. It’s really designed to be approachable, without being saccharine sweet and characterless.

    Finally, the sparkling Délice - which is off dry. Not sweet per se, but certainly a different character to the Brut and Rosé wines. It’s backbone is made from Muscat, which brings a floral character, and a hint of sweetness. There’s some Ugni Blanc and Chenin Blanc in there as well, to give much needed acidity and structure. It’s an incredible wine - the kind of glass you’d sit with in the garden on a warm, sunny afternoon. Which is rather what inspires me to do just that.

    A tasting like this is a real treat. To combine the stunning setting, with some top notch wines, and a 1 to 1 experience with a knowledgeable and passionate guide puts a huge smile on my face.

    Add to that, I’ve got that slight wine buzz that only comes from drinking wine before you’ve eaten a morsel. YUM.

    15:10
    Indian bureaucracy can still and easily catch in my craw, but I’m learning to live with it.

    We arrive at Sula vineyards a little before 14:00. I’m now properly hungry. My plan is to grab some lunch, and then hit the tasting room. The Sula wines I’ve had before are all part of their Estate / entry-level range. Perfectly decent / eminently quaffable etc etc. Sula have a premium range and an exclusive range, and I’m looking forward to trying these.

    Lunch first at an Italian place called Rasa. Seeing a menu populated only by Italian staples feels a little out of place, until I look around me. The verdant vineyards and white winery buildings could be in Italy, or France, or California, or Franschhoek… It’s a very pretty little enclave in the heart of Maharashtra. I order a pizza, and follow the instructions to order a glass of Reserve Sauvignon Blanc to accompany it. It’s good. I’m not sure it’s any better than their Estate Sauvignon that Debbie was drinking in Goa, but it’s good. The pizza’s great! Pesto, Feta, broccoli and spinach. Delish - and much needed.

    Sated, I head up to the tasting room. I stop at the registration desk, and ask if I can do a tasting. I get a slightly funny look, and am asked if I want a winery tour as well. I decline. No thanks - seen tons of wineries. Just the wine please. Same funny look. If I want to do a tasting, that’s all good, but I have to pay for the tour, and I have to wait until the people currently doing the tour get back from their tour - around 45 minutes. I ask if I can just go in and do the tasting. I’ll happily pay the difference. No - not allowed. It's 15:02, and another tasting started at 15:00, and I’ll be a disruption. I point out that I can see into the tasting room, and the host hasn't event finished pouring the first wine, but to no avail. I huff a little, but there’s no point. Rules and regulations in India are typically inflexible, unless there’s an exchange of dirty cash…

    There is, at least, a wine-bar upstairs, where I can go and order a glass. It’s not quite the 6 or 7 wines I’d anticipated, but it would be a shame to miss out completely. As a result, I sit here, with a fairly gorgeous view out over the vineyards and towards the Deccan Hills, tucking into a brilliant glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. Not brilliant ‘for India’ - but actually brilliant. Tons of structure, but well integrated tannins. Heaps of blackcurrant flavour, with some smoke and pepper. It’s their flagship wine, and is excellent. There’s a Zinfandel I’ve half an eye on as well, but I do have another two wineries to visit…

    19:20
    My last two wineries are fun, it of slightly lower quality. These are happily just down the road from Sula, so no horrendous cross-country trek to get there. First up is Soma. When I arrive, I walk into what I think is the tasting room, but turns out to be a banquet area, in which a massive Hindi wedding is currently taking place. I briefly consider joining in the festivities, but I’m definitely not dressed for it. The music is deafening, and I’m standing a good 15m away.

    I’m pointed in the right direction, up a small hill, and arrive at the tasting room. They make a fairly mind boggling 23 wines here. They do a tasting of 9, so I pick from the extensive menu. Some of the wines are, let’s be frank, not great. Not actively unpleasant, but just not good. Some are decent - perfectly drinkable. A couple are very good. They offer a Reserve Viognier which is rich, opulent, fragrant and silky. This is the first year they’ve made it, and it’s a knockout. Their Pinot Noir Rosé is also a cracker. Dry, crisp, fruity. Yum.

    A couple of minutes down the road is York. It’s a bit rougher and readier, and whilst I know I shouldn’t take this into account, the graphic design work for their bottles is horrible, and I find myself assuming that the liquid they contain will be equally miserable. I’m wrong. I taste six wines - all are decent, three are good, and one is banging. It’s a red blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah, and is awesome. I hadn’t planned to buy any wine today, as - you know, backpack etc etc. I decide I can squeeze one in though, so grab a bottle of this red blend. It’s a screw-top, so it’s very possible I’ll start it tonight, and finish it somewhere further down the track…

    My day of wine-tasting has been great fun. The quality of the wines has been surprising at times, and as the wine industry in India continues to evolve, I suspect it’ll only get better. The market for consumers in India is in its infancy as well, and it’s been fascinating to hear winemakers talk about their mid to long term plans to change their winemaking style to adapt to Indian palates as they grow more accustomed to and have a stronger appetite for different wine styles.

    21:45
    The combo of an early start, quite a lot of wine, and the need for another early start tomorrow has left me feeling jaded. I manage a quick dinner at the hotel, manage to avoid opening my lovely bottle of wine, and collapse into bed for an early night.

    #rockandroll.
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  • Sweet, sweet beer....Quite busy in the Harry's BarWaiter dude insisted on pouring my beer, then did a piss-poor job of it. Hmph.Racket #1Racket #2

    Day 32 - To Aurangabad! Eventually...

    7 февраля, Индия ⋅ ☀️ 22 °C

    10:00
    I must have done something different with my hair today. I’ve been stared at for most of my trip - at least anywhere outside of Goa - but today I’m attracting more stares than at any point before now. One guy on the station platform particularly stares at me for fifteen minutes. Straight. I’m wearing my shades, so can keep an eye on him with my peripheral vision, and I just find myself wondering what on earth is going through his head while he’s looking. I get that I look different, but this is a little ridiculous.

    I wake at 04:00. No idea why. I try to get back to sleep, but it’s not gonna happen. I get up and do some admin. My cab is due at 08:00, and my train should depart at 08:45 for Aurangabad, my last stop before heading to Mumbai, and onwards back to Brighton. Train ride’s about 4 hours, which in the UK would (*should*) get you from London to Edinburgh. Here, it feels like the merest of interruptions to my day…

    I decide against breakfast, as there’ll be plenty of snacks to buy on board the train. Barely five minutes go by on most trains without a vendor offering fruit, soft drinks, pots of vegetable curry, samosas, bottled water etc etc. They’re always very cheap, and usually very tasty.

    I get to the station around 08:20, just to be on the safe side. Remember what I said about two versions of the truth in India? Well - the IRCTC app reckons my train is arriving into platform 2, and the folks at Nashik Road station are adamant it’s platform 1. Once again, I’m trusting the human.

    The train is running a little late. 10 minutes, then 20. Then 30. Then 40. Then back to 30. Then, just to shake things up a bit, 15. It eventually pulls in 25 minutes later than scheduled. There is a problem though. The train doesn’t have the carriages I’m expecting it to have. I’ve booked myself a reserved seat in a chair car carriage, but there doesn’t appear to be one. I ask the train manager, and he gives me a head wobble. My only option is to join an unreserved, un-air-conditioned carriage. I’ve travelled in these carriages before. They’re ok for a very short hop, but not comfortable for any kind of longer journey. The one I’m directed to is also already full. I do NOT fancy standing or sitting on the ground for the next 4 hours.

    I quickly check to see if there’s another train running later that I can join instead, but they’re all fully booked and waitlisted. I look at coach and bus services, but there’s nothing that’s bookable this close to departure. As a last resort, I check Uber, and find I can get driven up to Aurangabad for a little over £20. It’s a good 100 miles / 2 hours away, and this immediately feels like great value. I love Indian trains, but I’m not afraid to admit, dear reader, that I feel very happy to have ejected from my original plan…

    My driver actually seems to be from the saner end of the Indian driver spectrum. Uses his indicators a lot, rarely touches the horn, understands it’s a 2 lane highway, that sort of thing. I turn up the A/C, kick back, and throw on a movie.

    13:00
    The drive was a very easy one, helped massively by my driver being a v cool customer. We spent much of the time on an actual highway. One with lanes, and sensible driving. The speed limit for cars is 120kph, but my driver feels more comfortable (or more likely, thinks I’LL be more comfortable) at 90. All good with me. I’m in no rush. The highway is smooth, and fairly empty. Excellent work.

    We arrive into Aurangabad, and drive past an outdoor sound stage. Or more accurately, an outdoor sound truck. The music coming from it is deafening. Keep this one in mind for later…

    Checked in, I feel an urgent need for a nap. Last night’s sleep wasn’t the best, and the bed looks uber comfy. Couple of hours I reckon…

    22:30
    Lovely nap, followed by a late lunch. I’m feeling slightly lowe powered today, so decide against heading out for an explore. I’ve most of a day to myself in town before my overnight train to Mumbai, so will have a chance to get out and see the city. Instead, I find the interestingly titled Harry’s Bar. I’ve been to the original in Venice, and this one, well - it’s not quite doing the name justice. It’s a pleasant enough place to spend some time though, and there’s a peaceful roof terrace, with just a hint of warm sunshine… I finish one book, and start another. I *think* that’s around 10 I’ve done on this trip so far. I’ve not felt the urge to re-read Shantaram, despite thinking i would probably do so. It’s an incredible book, and if you haven’t read it, I strongly encourage you to do so. That said, there’s a mystique to it, a similar frame to the one I found on my first foray into India, and whilst I’ve hugely enjoyed this trip, it’s not swept me up in quite the same way.

    Dinner is a treat. I have a kadai murg - a chicken curry, laden with complex spice flavourings. There are a couple that I’m tantalisngly close to identifying, but I just can’t quite put my finger on them. Alongside the curry staples of onion, garlic, turmeric, cumin and coriander powder, chilli powder - I’m pretty sure there’s some fenugreek, black cardamom and fennel seed. It’s a rich, tomato based sauce, and has a smoky flavour. I ask the waiter dude what’s in it, he misunderstands me, and brings me another roti.

    Whilst I’m eating, the outdoor sound truck gets going. It’s a din. A racket. It starts off sounding like a cross between Bangra and Grime. It moves on to some kind of ear-bleeding industrial techno, before finishing with deafening Indian pop music. The truck is part of some kind of float or parade, and after 20 minutes of barely being able to hear myself think, the noise starts to move away.

    I have a beer with my dinner, but it’s a fairly abstemious day all told. My driver is coming at 08:00 tomorrow morning for a tour taking in the Ellora Caves, so I’m tucked up in bed not long after 22:00. Zzzzzz….
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  • Day 33 - Caves and Ting

    9 февраля, Индия ⋅ ☀️ 23 °C

    08:30
    I wake with my alarm at 07:00, and have had a banging sleep. I’ve a driver booked for today, to take me on a tour of the surrounding areas of Aurangabad. To the North of the city are the Ellora caves, a series of monasteries and temples built into the cave structures. It houses temples for the Hindu, Buddhist and Jain faiths alongside each other, exemplifying the trait of religious tolerance. The earliest of these temples is around 1,500 years old. It’s rightly been made a Unesco World Heritage site, and i’m excited to visit.

    After my and Vicki’s less than successful tempe visiting day in Bangkok last year, I’m mindful to check if there are any dress codes or guidance for visitors. One website helpfully tells me to dress ‘appropriately.’ Cheers for that. I can’t find any mention of long trousers, nor of shoulder coverage, but decide that three-quarters and a t-shirt is the way to go. I’m also advised to wear flip-flops, as it’s a shoes off type situation before entering the caves. Critically, I’m told that mobile phones are not allowed in the complex. This is an actual piece of newsworthy guidance. I grab my SLR, as these ARE allowed… I don’t quite understand the banning of mobile phones at some Indian monuments, but not all. Perhaps it’s the decision of the religion to which the monument is dedicated. I make a note to look into this later.

    I’ve talked a lot about the differences between me as a traveller twenty years ago, and me as a traveller now. I have my own driver for the day today, and a lovely, big and spacious SUV. Twenty years ago, I’d have deffo looked for a shared trip, to cut down on cost. The $35 I’m spending on a private vehicle for the day feels more than worth it. I can stick to my own timetable, go where I want, and can sit and write this journal with impunity, in the knowledge that I’m not ignoring my fellow passengers. I’m also not convinced there would have been another 4 tourists with whom to share a vehicle. I seem to be the only foreign tourist in town…

    10:45
    Lies, lies, and yet more lies.

    1) Taking your phone into the Ellora cave complex IS allowed.
    2) There is one and only one of the 34 caves where you’ll be asked to remove your footwear. As the cave’s go, it’s one of the dullest.
    3) Wear what you want.

    Google AI proving that AI, whilst perhaps the future, is definitively not the present.

    All that aside, the cave complex is stunning. As we arrive, my driver hands me over to a pleasant guy called Siddiq. Siddiq is going to show me where to buy a ticket and so on. As we walk towards the entrance, Siddiq points out his shop, that sells sculptures and crystals. I tell him I’m not interested. He says that’s ok - I’ll will buy on the way back. *sigh*

    This kinda arrangement is incredibly common in India. Feroz, my driver, will be on a commission if I DO buy anything (which I won’t). Siddiq is very kind though, and lends me a guidebook for the cave complex.

    Inside the complex, it’s immediately striking how much work must have gone into creating these edifices. I start at cave 1, to the East of the site, and work my way back to the middle. Some of the caves are much bigger than others. Cave 5, for example, was a congregating temple, and would have comfortably held 500. Cave 1 is a little more circumspect, and perhaps held 50. All feature intricate carvings into the stone. These are monolithic caves - i.e.they’re created out of a single piece of stone - the rock that forms the hills in which they’re located.

    I’m struck by how well some of them have survived the 1,500 or so years since they were built. Sals and I visited Egypt with Mum and Dad back in 2006, and were similarly struck by the artwork in the famous temples at Edfu and Komombo. It’s staggering to me that I’m looking at broadly what the Buddhists, Hindus and Jainists would have been looking at over 1,000 years back.

    Cave 16 is the most impressive of the temples, and is the largest monolithic structure in the world. It’s a Hindu temple dedicated to Shiva, and is littered with carvings of elephants. There’s one though that looks very different. Kind of an elephant crossed with a dragon. As you walk in, there’s a sculpture of the goddess Lakhmi being sprayed with water by two elephants.

    Throughout my visit, I’m asked for photos.At this towering monument to human construction, I’m the tourist attraction for some. I get a little narked when one guy asks for a selfie, and as he’s taking it, yanks my beard. He gets a swift Bhaad Mein Jao…

    Next, on to Daulatabad Fort, a citadel built into a hill 20km South of here. It was built in the 9th century AD, and survives in pretty good condition, apparently….

    12:30
    The fort complex is commanding, and impressive. It’s split into sections over the entire hill, from base to peak. I climb ‘most’ of the way to the top but admit defeat. It’s getting properly hot, and there’s next to no shade.

    I pass by a large family of langurs, and hear a strange crinkling noise. They’re opening packets of food. What looks like little packets of individual sweets. I’m part impressed, that their dexterity is such that they open them without issue, and part saddened to see how humanised they’ve become.

    I spend some time climbing a large minaret, apparently built in the 15th century after the Delhi sultanate whupped the Gujaratis in some kind of war type thing.

    I mosey around the cannon gallery, featuring cannons used at the fort over the many centuries. I’m particularly struck by the ornate features of one of them - a couple of lions (or tigers) have been sculpted onto the cannon barrel. Very chic warfare. I’m also gladdened to see that there’s a sign identifying all of the key parts of a cannon, one of which is called the knob.

    Feroz asks if there’s anywhere else I want to see. He’s on the clock until 15:00. There’s a miniature (not properly miniature, but just smaller) version of the Taj Mahal about 20km to the East of us, but:

    1) I’ve visited the real Taj on this trip, and it won’t stand up well, and
    2) Heat / shade combo not good.

    I tell Feroz to head back to my hotel. I can foresee an afternoon of beer and naps, ahead of England’s game against France at Twickenham later….

    19:00
    Lunch was spectacular, in more than one way…

    As I sit down at an outside table at Harry’s Bar, one of the waiter dudes is already on his way to me with an ice-cold Kingfisher, and a frosted glass from the freezer. Now THAT’S what I call service. I order some mutton kebabs, and when they arrive, they’re amazing. Juicy, well spiced, flecked with fresh chilli - delicious. I mop them up with a much needed cooling cucumber raita, and some roti.

    Inside the bar, there’s a group of perhaps 15 women, having quite the good time. I wonder if it’s a hen party, or perhaps a birthday celebration. My wondering is answered a little later, when they come outside to sing happy birthday, with a cake and candles combo. I join in the singing, much to their delight, and they insist that I join them for cake. The birthday girl is Hattishah, and today is her 30th birthday. They’re a group of family and friends, ranging from 20 to 73 years old. I’m asked lots of questions about my trip - where I’ve been, where I’ve enjoyed most, which foods I’ve liked… Only a couple of them speak good English, but they translate effectively for the others. They’re incredibly fun to hang out with for a while, though at one point I have a suspicion that the grandmother is considering marrying me off to one of her family.

    The combination of food, beer and conversation has left me sleepy, so around 16:00 I head back to my room, and put my head down for a nap. I initially plan on an hour, but change my alarm at 17:00 for another hour, and get straight back to sleep.

    When I wake, my head is a little stuffed up. My throat was a bit thick earlier, and I suspect this might be the next step on the way to a cold. Hopefully it’s just a slight case of the sniffles. FINGERS CROSSED.

    00:15
    Allez les Blancs!

    Around 20:30, I head down to Harry’s for dinner. I’m starting to feel a bit sub-standard, and don’t fancy heading out for an explore. I fancy something other than Indian cuisine this evening. The thickness in my throat has turned sore, and I suspect chilli heat will not be its friend. I have some lamb in black bean sauce (or to give it its menu moniker - lamp in black bean sauce) and it’s tasty. Also suitably un-hot. I forego a beer, and stick to water.

    Time’s pushing on, and I’ve got a game of rugby to watch. The WiFi in the hotel isn’t the best. Spotty and slow. I test the speed over a cellular connection, and it’s much better. Still not great, but it’ll have to do. The game is streaming on ITV. I start watching the first half, and it’s buffering a lot. I get kicked out at one point, and can’t get back onto the live-stream. I hmmph quite a lot, and talk to my iPad quite a bit. Just for shits and giggles, I try the Sky Go app, as I can live-stream TV channels through that. ITV streams perfectly. I don’t particularly understand why, but I’ll take it.

    The first half of the game is scrappy. France are a technically better team, but after a day’s heavy rain in London, make a ton of handling errors. It’s 7-7 at half-time, and that’s about fair. The second half is a ding-dong roundabout. The lead changes hands multiple times. England are 19-18 up with 10 to go, but France score with 5 on the clock, to lead 25-19. I fear an England capitulation, but am happily stunned when the cross for a try with all but the last play of the game. England win a cracker of a game 26-25. By no means the tightest of performances, but one full of heart and grit. It bodes well.

    Knackered. Time for bed…
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  • Day 34 - Bleurgh. Lurgy. All change...

    9 февраля, Индия ⋅ 🌙 26 °C

    09:00
    I sleep pretty fitfully, waking up coughing on a few occasions, struggling to breathe through my nose on others. My throat is pretty sore now, an my glands are swelling. Fucksticks.

    I wake for the last time around 06:00, and quickly make the decision to extend my stay in Aurangabad by a day, and find another means of getting down to Mumbai tomorrow. I’m beginning to feel pretty sub-standard, and I don’t feel like a day of marching around the city, followed by a night on a sleeper train.

    I check with my hotel, and they’re fine with it. Satisfied, I head back to bed for some more sleeps.

    15:00
    A change is afoot.

    I wake up at 12:00, and head downstairs to grab some food. Nothing fancy - just a mild Palak Paneer and some rice. It’s a bit of an effort though. I’m sitting outside at the roof bar, and the heat of the day (it’s not THAT warm, but…) is making me feel a little feverish. More fucksticks.

    Back at my room, I decide to look into moving my flight up a couple of days, and heading back tomorrow instead of Thursday. The last thing I wanna do is get down to Mumbai tomorrow, then spend 3 days in a hotel room feeling like shit. There are economy seats with BA for a little under £300, and I can get cab to Mumbai Airport for around £40. I check with Virgin, and they’re happy to move my Premium seat to tomorrow’s 10:30 flight for a little less, so I bite their hand off. I book myself a cab to pick me up at 01:30, which’ll get me to Mumbai Airport around 07:00 for check-in. I’m way underspent on my budget for this trip, so I don’t feel too bad about the extra expense.

    I’m disappointed to skip Mumbai, and even moreso to miss hanging out with Manas and Preeti. I’m conscious though that after 47 years on this blue marble, I might finally be learning to listen to my body. Having made a decision, I immediately feel happier. Tomorrow evening, I should be safely at home with my baby boys. I’ll miss Vicki, as she’s heading over to her company’s office in Newbury for a couple of days, but she’ll be back Wednesday. Until then, I’m heartened by the idea of being able to spend time in my own bed when I need to, and lazing on my own sofa the rest of the time.

    Satisfied with my afternoon’s work, I get my head down for more sleeps. I’ll try and sleep in the car to Mumbai, but there’s no guarantee - and it’s a day flight into London, so again no certainty there either. I reckon this'll properly mess with my body-clock for a few days, but I've (still) nothing to be up for in the mornings, so I'll get by...

    01:30
    And so, it begins. I’m in the back of a moderately comfy cab for the next 5-6 hours. 24 hours from now, I should be getting home. I’ve got the A/C in the cab cranked up, as I’m feeling pretty warm. Here’s hoping that’s the worst of my troubles…

    No photos today. Apologies.
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  • Day 35 - Homeward Bound...

    10 февраля, Индия ⋅ 🌙 25 °C

    08:56
    My body has no idea what time it is. Nor, for that matter, does my brain. The cab down to Mumbai took a shade over 6 hours, with a couple of pit-stops along the way for fuel and toileting. Sham’s driving is eccentric at best. His car’s limited to 80kph, which is great on the highway, but at several points, he deviates from the highway, and still drives at 80kph. I suspect he’s trying to make a bit of cash on the side by avoiding the tolled parts of the expressway, and these are supposed to be included in my cab fare. At one point, not long after we leave Aurangabad, I ask why we’ve left the freeway, and he just replies, “Only 40km.” Righto.

    The traffic as we arrive into Mumbai is frantic. The sun is just beginning to light the sky, I remember being driven through this part of Mumbai on my first arrival into India, and being slightly taken aback at the ramshackle and chaotic nature of it. Now, I just take it in my stride. The streets are filthy. It looks like there was a huge street event yesterday, so littered are the pavements with rubbish and plastic.

    I’ve not flown from Mumbai International in fully 15 years, and I believe it’s had quite the glow up since then. It certainly feels a lot more spacious and clean than my last visit. I’m quickly checked in, and into the security queue. Now, I’m fully ready for my last vape to be confiscated at this point. I’ve ordered two more to be waiting for me at home, and I’ve got other nicotine options for the journey. I follow Debbie’s advice, which is to put ALL electronics into a single bag, so it can readily be removed and scanned. I slip my vape battery in there, having popped the pod part in with my liquids. Colour me surprised when it doesn't get pulled. I wonder if having ALL of those electronics in a single place made it more difficult to identity the rogue vape battery, or whether as this is for an international flight, they just don’t care. I certainly don’t care - I’m just pleased my vape has made it through in one piece. Nicotine alternatives are great if the only option, but having my vape with me will make the c. 10 hour flight into London a much more pleasant experience.

    Emerging from the immigration checkpoint into the departure lounge, it’s clear just how much of a glow up the terminal has had. It’s now bright, open, spacious, well laid out. I’m not particularly hungry, having had a couple of samosas a few hours ago at one of our taxi pit-stops. There is, however, a Hoegaarden bar, and I find myself drawn to it. It’s before 9am, and I’m really not feeling too clever, but I also feel like I should toast the end of what’s been an amazing trip full of ups and downs, and some lifelong memories. I order a large Witbier, and nearly have a heart attack when the bar dude asks for 2180 rupees. WHAT THE FUCK? This, ladies and gentlemen, is the £20 pint. I saw another bar further down the terminal that has Kingfisher on draft. Might need one of those to calm me down after the incredible expense of my Witbier…

    12:33
    Back on UK time. Not long after take off, my eyes start to feel heavy. I’m starting to feel hungry, so I hang on until the food service, then fall into a deep sleep. I’m out for around 3.5 hours, which is something of a result. I stick to water and soft drinks. My beer(s) earlier didn’t do me the world of good. Hardly a surprise, but they greased the pre-flight skids. My head’s already banging, and doesn’t need anything else to make it worse. I managed to find a pharmacy in the airport, so have some decongestants to go with my painkillers. Not 100% sure they’re doing much, but probs better than not having them at all…

    14:30
    Flight’s nearly done. It’s felt long. As a result, I expect of not feeling great and not sleeping as much as I’d have liked. It does give me time to watch a few movies:

    1) Conclave - 7 pointy hats out of 10. Thoroughly enjoyed. Ralph Fiennes is excellent, as is Stanley Tucci. As someone raised Catholic, I knew a fair bit about the conclave process, but the Machiavellian scheming behind it was good entertainment. Interesting ‘twist’ at the end…
    2) Saturday Night - 8 giant penises out of 10. Thought this was excellent. Many of the folks on whose comedy and comedic acting I was weaned as a kid. Have been an avid watcher of Saturday Night Live most of my life, so to see what is apparently a pretty accurate rendition of its genesis was cool.
    3) Juror # 2 - 7 biased jurors out of 12. Perfect plane fodder. Utterly inoffensive, moderately entertaining, vaguely interesting premise, largely predictable plot.

    The young woman in the seat next to me is a marvel. She’s slept for the very vast majority of the flight. Sadly, when asleep, she’s alarmingly flatulent. Thankfully not heavy stinkers, but she’s quite the trumpet.

    20:30
    Ended up waiting very nearly two hours for my bag at Heathrow T3. Cheers for that luggage handling dudes. As a result, I miss the 16:20 coach, and am only just in time for the 17:20.

    As I get closer to the Brighton, I think the adrenaline that’s held me together for the past 24 hours is starting to disappear, as I’m feeling rougher and rougher.

    I stumble through the door, dump my bags, and collapse onto the sofa. Within seconds, I’m covered in cat. It’s good to be home…
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  • India? Tim? Or both?

    12 февраля, Англия ⋅ ☁️ 3 °C

    This blog post is a collection of random and not so random thoughts. It’s gonna be long one, so apologies in advance. At the outset of this trip, I really wanted to understand how India had changed since my first experiences in 2007, whether for the better or the worse. I wanted to use those experiences as a yardstick to understand how I’d changed, how different my attitudes were and my approaches to travelling. Along the way, and recognising that change is the only constant, I’ve found myself asking whether something feels different because India has changed, because I’ve changed, or perhaps a little bit of both. What follows documents some of my thinking. Those of you that know me well will know that it might get a bit chaotic.

    Expense
    India remains an incredibly economical place for western walleted travellers. Back in 2007, I had a budget of £30 per day, which included my accommodation. Places to stay tended to average about £10 per night. A little more in some places, a little less in others. £20 comfortably covered my other expenses. I typically ate twice per day, and spent roughly £1 - £2 on each meal. A beer outside of the bigger cities was around £1. A rickshaw driver for the day was never more than £3-£4.

    In 2025, my budget is substantially higher. Picking apart whether that’s India or me needs a little analysis, and as most of you will know - I LOVE that shit. 17 years is a lot of inflation to factor in, and we’ve had a global pandemic in the meantime which has done all sorts of crazy things to global commodity prices. I’m also staying in *slightly* more luxurious accommodation. Not massively though. Clean and comfortable remain the two most important things I look for in a guesthouse, and they don’t come at a particular premium. My average accommodation bill on this trip is £40 per night, but that includes a couple of weeks in the middle in Goa where Vicki is joining me, and we are, as a result, staying in slightly fancier accommodation. Without Goa included, the average is £26.

    Eating and drinking remains great value. My Kathi kebab in Delhi on day 1 was £1.50, and remains one of the tastiest things I’ve eaten on the entire trip. Agra, I barely ate anything, so that was incredibly cheap. In Lucknow, a very good feed could be had for perhaps £3. Beers were around £1.50. In Goa, pick your poison. A delicious curry can be had for maybe £3, but you can equally feed yourself on the most incredible fresh BBQ fish for £8 per head.

    Conclusion : India has not really changed, but I have - just a little.

    Road Safety
    The roads remain lethal. Whilst many of the cars on the roads are newer, and hopefully therefore more likely to protect their passengers in case of a crash, the likelihood of that crash occurring feels as a great as ever. I *think* the quality of driving is a little higher in Goa, where the pace of westernisation is perhaps at its greatest in India. It’s marginal though. They’re still fucking lunatics.

    Conclusion : India has not changed. I have not changed - in that I still value my life, and wish I didn’t have to travel on Indian roads to get around.

    Food
    It’s impossible not to notice the new prevalence of western fast-food outlets in almost every town of any real size. I barely (if at all) saw these in 2007, but now they’re everywhere. There are still incredible food options wherever you go, and I’m always going to be the type to find them if I can. My disappointment, if that’s the right word, is that I believe it indicates a gradual detachment of the youth culture of India with their traditional regional cuisine. I suspect (but can’t prove) that most young people in India eat traditionally when with their families, but less so when with their friends. Most of the restaurants at which I eat traditional, regional food feature diners in their middle age and upwards, while the fast-food outlets heave with young people.

    When you do find regional cuisine being served, it is sensational. In the UK, we’ve distilled ‘Indian’ cuisine down into familiar curry-house favourites - dopiazas, jalfrezis, baltis, rogan josh. Great dishes though these may be, they represent a fraction of the sublime food that is served across India on a daily basis. Each state or region has its own food traditions, styles and ingredients. I’m at my happiest when eating in a local, traditional restaurant, and can simply ask the waiter to bring whatever is their favourite. My cookery class in Goa has reminded me that beyond the restaurant staples, there also exists a powerfully enticing repertoire of home cooked food, much of which I’ll attempt to recreate at home. I will, I will, I WILL figure out how to make the perfect dhal…

    Conclusion : India is changing, and I’m not sure where it’ll end up. I have not changed.

    Traveller Types
    I saw a lot more western travellers in 2007. I suspect India’s popularity as the de facto traveller destination for so many was starting to wane by then, but it remained highly popular place for travellers. Lucknow was entirely bereft of travellers, and in Delhi I saw none (albeit only there for a few hours). Goa was an exception, for sure. Pench, I think western travellers made up perhaps 2% of journey makers, and Maharashtra perhaps even fewer. I think this indicates a couple of things.

    Firstly, that India has become less popular with a certain type of traveller. Backpackers are fewer and further between than they once were. I saw some young backpackers in Agra, which shouldn’t be surprising as I was staying at a hostel. Compared to 2007 though, the number and proportion was much much lower. Are kids today even going backpacking? A bit of research suggest that fewer and fewer aspire to this kind of trip. It’s presumably not Instagrammable enough. I think more to the point is that travellers are looking for more of a balance between value and comfort.

    I think of Felix and my experience in Thailand and Cambodia in mid 2024. We encountered tons of back-packers, all of whom were staying in accommodation that I would class as a cut-above the standard most often found in India, and at similar prices it has to be said. Cambodia is a great example - we spent an average of £25 per night on accommodation, and stayed in some fairly luxurious and comfortable places. I don’t think that budget in India necessarily gets you the same level of cleanliness and sophistication. I think India runs the risk of missing out on the next generation of travellers who simply won’t put up with poor toilet facilities, dirty rooms and very basic facilities.

    What there are more of than my first visit are package trips, whether to beaches in Goa, or to cultural sites such as those found in the Golden Triangle. These have increased massively in popularity in recent years, and provide a ‘safe’ way for intrepid explorers to experience many of the wonders of India, without some of the tricky downsides. My own Auntie Eileen and cousin Rebecca took such a trip in October 2024, and loved it.

    Conclusion : India hasn’t really changed, but perhaps it should… I have not changed.

    Security
    India feels safer to me than it did in 2007. For a start, I didn’t get mugged in Delhi, so that’s an immediate improvement. Interestingly, reading back my journal from 2007, I wrote the following about Taj Ganj in Agra:

    "At night, it’s seedy, and reminiscent of the slum in Blade Runner. Tendrils of smoke and steam emanate from street-side shacks. There’s a menacing glare from the people loitering in the alleyways. Fortunately, I’m about six inches taller, and several stone heavier than the vast majority of Indians, and I have a menacing glare of my own. Walking around this part of town is an edgy experience, and I daren’t take out my camera to capture any of it. As is my wont to push things, I venture down one of the alleyways into the grimness of the backstreets. The streets clearly double as toilets, so strong is the stench of piss and shit. The place is keen deep is in squalor. I’m hooked. I wander around for 20 minutes or so, until I decide it’s probably safer to head back to the main street."

    Now, aside from the artistry of the prose, this describes a pretty sketchy place. It was only as I arrived at my hostel in Agra that I truly realised that it’s in Taj Ganj. The place is unrecognisable. Yes, it’s still busy and chaotic, but the menacing edge to this part of town has gone completely. Waking around at night (when I was fit enough to do so) was a breeze. It no longer smells like satan’s urinal.

    India definitely still fits into the ‘don’t be a dick’ category when it comes to security. Don’t hang a camera around your neck as you wander down the street, don’t wear ostentatious jewellery, don’t…

    You get the picture. But that’s true of everywhere I’ve traveled over the past 18 months, whether the sub-continent, South East Asia, Africa, South and North America or Europe. Why do people persist in being dicks?

    Conclusion : India has changed a little bit, for the better.

    Social Openness
    Wasn’t quite sure how to label this one, and it might take some explanation. One of the things I adored about my first trip to India was the friendliness, openness and warmth of pretty much everyone with whom I came into contact. Whether it was people running guesthouses, restaurant/bar workers, drivers, fellow train passengers - I spent most of my time in these environments embroiled in conversation, and making friends. I have experienced far less of that on this trip, and very much want to understand why. Ok - so not that much explanation needed after all…

    I think there are several factors here which combine to explain the dramatic change in behaviour. First up social digitisation. In 2007, I had a mobile phone, and it could (just about) access the internet over a shaky GPRS connection. It was WICKEDLY expensive to do so though, so I just didn’t. Facebook was a thing, but a pretty new one - I’d joined in Feb 2007. No Twitter (I refuse to call it X), no Instagram, TikTok or Snapchat. You could check your email or Facebook, but really only by going to an internet café, which I did once every few days at most. No WiFi, no streamable TV. I read. I read a LOT. I think I went through 17 books in the first part of my trip - about one every couple of days. When I wasn’t reading, I was meeting people - domestic tourists, other travellers, local hospitality workers. I revelled in it. I’d never quite experienced a style of travel quite like it. I was hooked.

    Fast forward 18 years, and the ubiquity of smartphones and cheap data / readily access WiFi means that this form of travel is getting lost. In Agra, I was part amazed / part disappointed when a group of 6 youngish French travellers arrived at The Hippie Café, spoke to each other for all of 5 minutes, then spent the next 3 hours doom-scrolling. They seemed to have nothing to say to each other, or to the other travellers congregated there. This feels to me to be a huge shame, as I think it can be amongst the most rewarding parts of travel. I love that these kids are still throwing clothes in a backpack, and heading off for adventure, but a part of me wishes they had the opportunity and ambition to have a simpler and more open experience. Christ, that makes me sound old…

    The same is true of local folks. Noses are buried in smartphones the majority of the time. In Goa in 2007, I met a few local workers who I hung out with during my stay. Kao, the Nepalese manager of Banyan Tree on Palolem Beach is a good example. I even ended up DJing at his bar one night, as he’d heard a couple of my discs, and really liked them. I just don’t think that would happen today. The digital obsession is closing off society in a way that I think is sadly irretrievable. Am I innocent in this? No - of course not. There have been times on this trip when I’ve been head down in my MacBook, writing this blog, and have doubtless missed opportunities to interact and engage. I’ve made a conscious effort though to limit screen time on my iPhone, which has unfortunately just given me more time to watch other people buried in theirs.

    Conclusion : India has changed, but it’s not India’s fault.

    Clusterfucks
    Things are going to go wrong in India. The degree to which they go wrong can almost never be predicted. It could be transport issues, plumbing problems, power outages, misleading directions, health issues, language miscommunication… The list is long and distinguished.

    My sense (entirely unscientific) is that broadly the same number of things went wrong on this trip as my last month long extravaganza. My reaction to them was definitely different though. In 2007, I breezed through the challenges I faced along the way. Even my mugging in Delhi I took with what I thought was pretty graceful acquiescence. In 2025, train delays irked me more, getting sick had a greater impact on me and my mood, my patience definitely wore thinner than it once would have. Part of this is doubtless on me - since 2007, I have developed quite the anxiety disorder, and while the medication I take daily helps keep it in check, it doesn’t remove it entirely. My ability to subsume stress and uncertainty has absolutely been diminished. I’ve not had a panic attack in years, but there’s a slow burn of underlying anxiety that never leaves me, and India has some characteristics that exacerbate it, moreso than anywhere else I’ve travelled in the past 18 months.

    The curveball for me when considering this is that the lack of internet connection in 2007 was actually a help, not a hindrance. Having immediate access to data about things like train times, delays etc etc, particularly when that data proves to be inaccurate, makes life harder, not easier. I had a few train delays in 2007, one of which I think was around 4 hours. I just sat on the platform with my book and a couple of beers, and asked as each train came in whether it was mine. Contrast that with me experience at Kalyan Junction, when the ‘data’ provided IRCTC disagreed with what the folks at the station were telling me, and I nearly got on the wrong train. I’d have been better off without a smartphone…

    AND FINALLY…
    My overall conclusion is that I might be done with this form of trip, to this country. I’ll absolutely visit India again, but likely in a more targeted way - to specific cities or states, or for particular events. I came back to India in part because I craved that social travel experience I had in 2007, but I’m just not sure it exists anymore. Whilst my trips of the past 18 months have all been incredible in their own ways, I’m conscious that my travelling experience has been a different one. I’ll absolutely still throw some clothes in a rucksack, and hit the road, but I think it’ll be outside of India, and with a different expectation of what I’ll find…
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