India Part 2 - More Delhi

The Old Fort - yes, also huge.

My last full day here arrives too soon, still, time to visit the Akshardham Temple complex, which is, once again, vast.  Is it worth the serious queueing required to get through security?  Yeah... a shame I can't take my camera in though, much is worth recording, for instance the one hundred and forty-eight life size sculpted elephants.  Including, seven-trunked elephant deity rises from the waves as gods and demons play tug o' war with a giant snake.  Oh yes.

I escaped the crowds!

One more metro journey and I walk past the Old Fort, as big as the red one by the looks if it, don't really have time to go in even if I could find the entrance.  Then to India Gate, monument to this
countries fallen in the First World War, and also the Third Anglo-Afghan War.  What is it about Afghanistan?  Oh, and yes it is massive.  Also only visible from a distance, the surrounding parkland being closed in preparation for the Republic Day festivities a few days from now.  I'm walking through the government district now, which is rather different to the rest of the city.  There are actual pavements, and even traffic lights here, and signs warn of penalties for sounding your horn - wish they had them near my hotel.  Heading north from here, I reach the centre of the city, Connaught Square, actually a (massive of course) circle, the surrounding streets seeming for all the world to be extensions of London's Regent Street brought halfway around the world.  The park in the centre is, again, shut off for Republic Day, so I head off to my hotel, only a mile or so away, the gleaming white colonnades end after a few hundred metres, and I'm back in Delhi again, it's dark, I have to risk life and limb walking along the street amidst the rickshaws and it smells of wee...

The abandoned theatre.

Last day here, and after checking out of my (perfectly decent, though the room was a bit pokey)
hotel, I feel the need to get away from the crowds, so despite having all my stuff on my back I wander into a very extensive urban forest / park not far away.  It seems deserted after the busy streets. I do see the odd person, and also some peacocks... also the occasional bit of building poking through the undergrowth, I don't think this has always been forest - in fact at one point, feeling rather like an explorer coming across the remains of some Inca city, I discover a huge, decaying open air theatre.  I am sure there is a good reason for this.  Then it's time to head to the train station, sigh, this is really not a good place to be a pedestrian, it's not just the huge number of people but also the way you pretty much have to walk in the road, often there's no pavement, instead cars, bikes, piles of rubble right up to the surrounding buildings, but even when there is one it's generally covered with wares spilling out of the shops.  I often have to halt for some time waiting for what seems a safe time to brave the insane traffic, any gap rapidly filled by horn tooting motorcycles, or locals who, for all that they often walk with glacial slowness, seem largely happy to barge past me and out into the flow.

Monkeys!

I still get to the station in plenty of time, and my second class ticket turns out to be the highest class on the train, so right at the front (Indian railways seem to have at least eight classes, and few trains have the nominal first it seems).  Despite this being a daytime train it's a sleeper carriage, and in fact many of my fellow passengers climb up on the beds, well it is a five hour trip.  I look out of the window while the light lasts, it takes a long while to get out of Delhi, we pass people wandering around on the tracks, children playing, tiny roughly built brick shacks edging right up to the sleepers.  Then two hundred miles or so of North India, plenty of farmland, plenty of towns too, many of them odd looking places, a seemingly haphazard jumble of buildings sat on expanses of dirt and rubble, nothing like roads to be seen.  Plenty of half finished high rise blocks too, often looking like they're in the middle of nowhere - planned housing for the country's teeming millions I guess.  The sun sets, a chap comes round taking orders for food, don't know what it will be but I go for it - turns out to be a veg thali of course, would probably be nicer if it was warm.  The guy in the opposite seat, nice fellow who must be some kind of high powered businessman given he is taking this train, then straightaway flying to Singapore, tells me 'this is how we live here'.  He also says the trains here are still the way the British left them in the fifties - wish we in Britain could say the same I answer!  By way of demonstration the train arrives pretty much on time at my next city, Jaipur, more about which to come.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

India Part 1 - Delhi

I'm off again!  This time, my travels have taken me to India, a country so huge that even in the three or four weeks I have here I will only be able to see a tiny portion of it.  Alas, my visa only lasts for a month so that that will have to do... should be interesting anyway, I have an itinerary involving at least seven cities, my mode of transport for this adventure being the train - which according to my research is genuinely a good way to travel here, and does not involve an entire village of people sat on the roof of each carriage at all.

The Lotus Temple.

First stop then, the capital, New Delhi.  Or if you prefer, Delhi - they seem to basically be the same place.  And wow, what a place it is... not to everyone's taste I suspect, there are a few negative aspects which I should mention.  The sheer number of people here is just astonishing, the streets and alleys around my hotel constantly throng with people, in a way that reminds me of football matches in England back in the days of terracing, and there is another similarity too - the frequent, acrid whiff of urine.  Some of this seems to be down to public urinals with broken plumbing, but it seems many of the locals are happy to just go in the street, as it were.  At least they manage to hold it in on the metro - an experience in itself, seems to be as crowded as rush hour London Underground at all times, well I've coped with that.  But... people here just don't seem to have any concept of personal space, happy to push and elbow their way past, or just squash themselves against you.  Queues - of which there are very many - are the worst, and often involve shuffling along for twenty minutes with some guy's belly, or worse, shoved into my back.  It is of course a pickpocket's paradise, I take care to only carry what cash I plan on spending, in a zipped pocket - I still catch one guy unzipping it!

Krishna, having left one of the girls in charge of

controlling London, battles a many headed sea-snake.

Why ever come here then?  Well the food is good, I could, and indeed do, eat curry every day.  Seems all the bars and restaurants have live music too, often as many as ten people on stage, half being the band, the rest singers who each take their turn.  For authentic local cuisine though street food is the way to go, I get a fine veg thali for all of one hundred and ten Rupees - maybe one pound fifty.  No sign of the Delhi belly yet...  Of course I am here to see the sights, of which there are many, far more in this one city than I have time for in fact.  I do my best, there are of course temples, such as the beautiful, modern Lotus Baha'i Temple, set in immaculate gardens that contrast with the rather scruffy park next door.  The other side of which I find another temple, the ISKCON - why yes, it's the Hare Krishna people.  Like everything in Delhi it seems, it is huge, and very ornate, I am taken by the gallery featuring a series of pictures of the blue skinned, effeminate Krishna hanging out with his entourage of hot babes. On the opposite wall are a series of photos of the faith's other temples around the world, each with an - often bizarre - epithet, presumably referencing Krishna again, apparently he 'seduced the love god cupid' and is 'the controller of London'.

The Red Fort.  Really, really big.

Next day, to the Red Fort, definitely an all day thing, the sheer size of this place beggars belief.  I guess it is reminiscent of Carcassonne, but while that is a walled town, albeit with big walls, this is more like a castle built by aliens who got the scale wrong.  I could spend all day just wandering the vast interior, but there are a lot of things to see too, palatial buildings in their own right, mostly these date from the days of the Mughal Emperors, though a substantial number, sadly looking a little worse for wear, are from the British Raj period.  One of these contains a museum dedicated to India's struggle for independence, where I stroll somewhat nervously past lists of massacres committed by British forces, and even dioramas of ranks of red, or later khaki coated soldiers shooting at the natives.  Well, all friends now eh?  Well certainly everybody wants to be my friend, plenty want to ask where I'm from, shake hands, even pose for photos - just a shame it is hard to tell the genuinely friendly from those trying to get me onto their rickshaw, or engage their services as a guide.  Maybe with practice...

Inside the Fort.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Back to Bulgaria - Part 2

It's Christmas!

Christmas Day (Eastern Orthodox at least), and after a coffee or two with Chris I'm off, turns out to be easy enough to get to Borovets by public transport, metro to Joliot Curie station, walk to the nearby Southern Bus Station, and then a bus to Samokov.  Why there is this second bus station, pretty much just serving Samokov as far as I can tell, I don't know.  It's an hours drive to Samokov, the fare being a whole six Lev (around three pounds), and then another bus to Borovets, this only takes twenty minutes or so and costs a whopping one Lev thirty.  Plenty of time to settle into my hotel - sort of, turns out it is full, but this just means I get a perfectly nice, and thank goodness warm, room in the hotel next door.  Also a free glass of wine every night as compensation :)  Turns out just to be me for dinner tonight, and it is quite a feast, borscht, cured meat and cheese, burgers with salad, and some rather tasty biscuits.  Things go downhill when I go to pick up my skis though - a school party is there, I don't see any option but to wait for them to finish before I can get served - in the end this takes nearly two hours.  Still, just time for a beer or two before bed, in an apres ski bar where they are doing that 'hammer a nail into a log' game.  And why not.

Skiing along, in a winter wonderland.

I survive the threatened minus twenty overnight temperature, consume toast, coffee and more biscuits for breakfast, and walk uphill to the slopes.  It's good, there sure is a lot of snow, and I pretty much have enough layers on to cope with the cold.  There are only twenty or so runs here, but they are very long - the one gondola covers over four kilometres, and climbs over a thousand metres of altitude!  So while I do end up doing the same runs quite a few times, it isn't too repetitive.  Mostly we are talking reds, with a few blues and blacks too, and on one side a long green crossing back and forth, pretty good for me then.  There is also the very, very long Musala pathway coming down from the top of the gondola, which is a lovely run through the trees, though a bit flat in places.  In fact most of the runs here are through pine forest, very pretty at the moment with all the snow.

Looking North towards Sofia and Mount Vitosha.

After that first night the food sadly goes a bit downhill, as per my blog from four years ago, we get a buffet, and the idea of keeping the food warm still hasn't caught on it seems.  Nor is the food itself very special, we get chicken nuggets, pizza and burgers - well, I guess given it cost something like two pounds a night I can hardly complain.  One evening at least there are some rather tasty stuffed vine leaves, and generally the soup is fine.  Oh and all you can eat biscuits and / or cake, so I am happy.  Of course there is plenty of beer to be had here too, I frequent Bobby's bar up near the slopes, three Lev fifty for a half litre of Kamenitsa can not be sneezed at.

At the highest point.

There really is a lot of snow here - I can ski all the way down to my hotel, on the roads, just a shame about the walk back up.  Also, while I try to avoid skiing over gravel, at one point I hit a kerb crossing a road which gouges a large chunk out of the ski, hopefully the hire place won't mind.  More snow comes down most days, in fact on the Tuesday it snows so hard that I give up on the skiing after an hour or two.  Then on Wednesday there are strong winds, so much that many of the chairs, and the upper half of the gondola, are shut, which does make for a few queues at those lifts that remain open.  But after that the weather clears up, and on the last day there are even blue skies, and that wind has blown the snow off the trees making the place look very green.  It really is a beautiful resort here, particularly the wooded lower slopes, and many of the hotels are pleasantly built too, a far cry from the concrete monstrosities that seem to fill many French resorts.  So yeah, this was all good fun, good to get a proper week of skiing in, and I manage not to injure myself.  The hire shop does indeed not notice any damage I've done to the skis, and somehow I get through the journey back to England - this involves four buses and a metro journey in Bulgaria, the plane of course, and then a coach and train in the UK.  Phew...

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Back to Bulgaria - Part 1

With Lenin!

Well, seems it has been a little while since I wrote anything here, I guess post Rio I haven't done anything that exciting - a couple of months lazing around on Tenerife, then back to the UK for a family Christmas. All fun but not really worth blogging about. I'll be off on another adventure at some point, honest, but first a small taster, back to Bulgaria for a week or so.

First off, a day of wandering around Sofia, and this time I have brought my camera! On the minus side it is absolutely perishing, extreme weather has hit central Europe, and daytime temperatures plunge to minus ten and below. Locals are photographing the snow, I go for the various local landmarks, the Banya Bashi Mosque and surrounding hot springs, and numerous Roman remains - since I was last here, a really substantial bit of Roman street and surrounding buildings have been covered by a glass roof, ideal for this weather.

Banya Bashi Mosque - means 'many baths'.

I finally make it to the Museum of Socialist Art, is it worth it? Yeah, I would say so, most cool to see the massive statues of Lenin et al, and the selection of portraits and so forth inside are interesting too. I also liked the fifteen minutes of so of propaganda films, mostly featuring former leader Georgi Dimitrov, including his embalmed body being laid to rest in a mausoleum - and then, as a finale, footage of the mausoleum being blown up! Apparently they unceremoniously cremated his body as well.

So cold.

Much eating ensues - I've persuaded my mate Chris to come along, and we go for Italian food near the museum, there still seem to be Christmas decorations here. Then we remember that Eastern Orthodox Christianity uses a different calendar, a quick check and it turns out to be Christmas Eve! Apparently local custom is to eat a large vegetarian meal, featuring an odd number of courses... well, being foreigners we stick to meat, more of which, and much beer, arrives that evening at the cheap and cheerful Happy Bar and Grill. Well, this was all good fun, if cold. And tomorrow, I'm off to Borovets, a hundred kilometres or so to the south, for skiing - should be plenty of snow at least!

Roman street, complete with plumbing and sewer.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.

Te Araroa : The Numbers

I found this flag in the hut... wonder if it is still there?

One year ago yesterday, I set out from Cape Reinga to walk across New Zealand.  Seems like a good time then to revisit the trip, and first of all come up with some numbers for how far I walked, how many nights I camped and so forth.

Total distance walked along the route : 2,881km

This is approximate, for one there were sections near the start where the marked route involved kayaking but the guide had this as an option, in each case I walked instead.  There were also numerous sections where the path on the map was impassable, or simply didn't seem to exist - often due to erosion.  Generally I kept to within a couple of kilometres of where it was supposed to be.  Finally of course, in a lot of the bush I remain adamant the route on the ground was considerably longer than what the guide claimed - I'd be amazed if the actual distance was not at least 100km more over the entire journey.  In any case, I think it is fair to say that I followed a route that was as long as, and always pretty close to, the entirety of the walking sections of Te Araroa.

Total distance along the route by kayak : 83km

From Pipiriki to Wanganui.

Kayak section missed : 32km

Yes I missed a section of the route, from Mangapurua Landing to Pipiriki.  I am not going to beat myself up over it too much given I covered rather more distance walking around instead.

Additional walking : 230km

Again this is approximate.  I'm not including all the walking around towns to shop, to pubs and back, etc., but rather firstly the bits where I walked off route to find accommodation, for instance to Levin, and secondly where I detoured around an obstacle, most notably the Rakaia river.

Times I left the trail by motor vehicle : 3

I really didn't want to do this, witness the lengths I went to, carrying many days food, to avoid having to hitch into a town to resupply.  I guess I liked the idea of getting to Bluff and saying 'I have come here all the way from Cape Reinga, walking or kayaking except when there really was no other way than to get a boat'.  Well that didn't happen...  The three occasions were : 1) Hitching to Wangarei from that stupid jetty, then taking a bus back towards the route; 2) The bus to Greymouth and back, for resupply and desperately needed new shoes; and 3) Hitching away from the dangerous Rangitata river crossing to Geraldine, and then back to Mesopotamia Station.

Total days and nights on the trail : 120

Including the very last night in Invercargill.  Of which...

Nights spent in the tent : 80

Actually more than I planned - I got quite comfortable in my little tent, and as the weeks passed I was happy enough to rock up in a town and find a campsite rather than looking for a motel.  Then of course there were places like Taumarunui and Greymouth where there really were no rooms to be had.

Nights in Department of Conservation huts : 14

I should have done this more - not least I still had 4 hut tickets left at the end.

Nights with a real bed : 26

Ranging from campsite cabins that were little better than the huts, through cheap motels and student halls, up to really rather nice B&B accommodation.

Photographs taken : at least 721

That is going by the number I've uploaded to my Google albums, I of course took plenty more.  But the internet only needs so many pictures of huts, signs, birds, signs with birds on them, and indeed huts with signs on them.  I have now created a 'page' on this blog with links to all 10 albums, there should be a link to this on the right somewhere.  And there is video!  Edited together from 60 or so clips I shot over the course of the trip this hopefully gives some feel for the experience.

Enough numbers then, and indeed enough looking back.  Going forward, this will hopefully not be the last such trip I embark upon - watch this space!

Rio : The Voyage Home

Mural depicting a somewhat idealised view of Rio.

Almost done with Brazil... I've had a great time here, so glad I came, but... it's going to be good to get home.  I am really quite tired of Portuguese now.  Anyway... no huge hurry, I'm booked on an overnight bus, so, sit around, pack, drink lots of coffee.  Really ought to get going, oh, mine host is getting the churrasco going again .. OK, a plate of meat, rice and beans won't hurt, and then we say our, largely mutually incomprehensible, goodbyes.  Fair play to these people, they've been excellent hosts - in my gratitude I gift them my only slightly broken bicycle - I think it's appreciated.  Hell, I'm sure it's worth something.

Mexico City!  This being the impressive Palacio de Bellas Artes.

Only a three or four mile walk to the bus station, though it seems longer, I've bought a big kit bag, with all my stuff in it this thing is heavy.  Well, easy enough to break the journey up, I stop at various bars, and watch the women's football final in one - Germany somewhat predictably winning.  The bus - is fine, I sleep well enough, though it's an early start in Sao Paulo, 6:30am.  Only a mile to my hotel, via a cafe for a coffee or three... hotel is nothing special, mirror on my bedroom ceiling suggesting the place used to charge by the hour, but not any more.  They let me check in at nine anyway, this is good.

In front of the Angel de la Independencia.

Don't do much with my time in Sao Paulo, not least it rains pretty much the whole time I am there, I do at least find a bar for a last bit of Olympic sport, the men's football gold medal match - Brazil win of course.  I spend much of the next day at the airport, after giving up on trying to buy a bus ticket for later rather than right now.  Well there are worse places to be, and I'm sure not going to miss my flight, farewell Brazil then, it's been fun.

One night flight later and I'm in... Mexico City!  Cheapest option home involved a sixteen hour layover here, OK, time to make a virtue out of necessity then.  I take the metro into the centre, and then that stalwart of city tourism, a hop-on hop-off open top bus, well why not.  And, as it turns out, Mexico City is quite awesome, a veritable smorgasbord of palaces, cathedrals and so forth.  The Zokalo!  Various massive monuments to independence!  Also massive, and cheap, cake.  I have a pleasant day, before retiring to a bar for local beer and many, many nibbles.  They're even showing a repeat of the Olympic closing ceremony which seems appropriate.  Then back to the airport, and a trouble-free flight to Heathrow.  Britain!  Feels like I've been away a long time...

Monkey!

Photos from my trip to Mexico can be found here.

Rio Olympics : Triathlon

Open water swimming is perhaps not the best spectator sport...

Last bit of live sport!  And, a good one for me, having actually done a few triathlons - much more slowly than these guys (yes, male athletes today) of course.  Interesting course they've come up with... I'd have expected the swim to be in the Lagoa, but in fact it's the ill-reputed water off Copacabana beach, and then cycling and running up and down the seafront a few times.  Makes for easy spectating, I even get on to the beach to watch the competitors run into the sea.

Biking Brownlees!

Then a bit of a struggle to find a good viewing spot along the front, seems this event has attracted a big crowd, I guess it being a popular location helps.  I manage anyway, in time to watch the lead riders come around for the first time - there are even a few other Brits here, we discuss the events we've seen in between cheering on the Brownlee brothers.  A short course this, they go round eight times, I suppose that means not many places to watch from so maybe that's why there seem to be more people than for, say, the marathon.

Alastair.

The brothers both seem near the front as they ride past for the eighth time, right, off to find a good spot for the running.  Hmm, think I'm confused about the route, looks like they are indeed just running up and down the front, had thought there was an uphill section... well, no matter, I find a spot, pretty near the finish in fact, in time for the last two laps.  Alastair Brownlee is leading, younger brother James in third, in the event they finish first and second respectively, go Team GB!  In fact, this is turning into an incredible medal haul for Great Britain, in the end we garner twenty-seven gold medals, twenty-three silver and seventeen bronze, only the USA doing better.

James.

Sport over, this is my last full day in Rio, well, last visit to Casa Airbnb then.  I don't usually do product endorsements, but thumbs up to Airbnb - I could not have afforded the prices hotels here were asking.  More than that, customer service was good when I had a last minute panic re. getting keys for my room, and the Casa is the icing on the cake, a lovely little place near the Lagoa.  Have been there a few times just to chill and watch some sport on TV, oh and drink free beer, what is not to like.  Have also enjoyed burger tasting, brigadeiro (sweet, chocolatey local specialities) making, and now they have craft beer tasting, oh yes.

Photos to go with this post can be found here.