Chesty Traveling

Feb 5 2017

So there I was chilling in Bangkok having just returned from India, when who should pop up in town but Raymond Kennedy. I had not seen him for some thirty eight years. So a meet up had to happen. Not only had I not seen Ray neither had Gavin Fifield, a fellow light infanteer living in Bangkok. Well it didn’t take long for a plan to be formulated. And a fishing trip to Hua Hin was proposed. We would stay in the Anantara Hotel in Hua Hin and fish at the Hua Hin Fishing Lodge. Our host would be Terry, we would fish both of his ponds and our targets would be Giant Siamese Carp, Asian Redtail Carp, Arapaima and the Alligator Gar. And it would be rude not to have a little wager on the outcome.

Our trip to the Anantara hotel in Hua Hin was by air con taxi, and was swift and comfortable. The best bit of the morning had to be our greeting by the hotel staff. We stepped out of the Taxi to a gentleman in uniform holding three ice cold beers, and a large sign declaring our arrival. Well done hotel staff I say. The rooms were ideal, with lots of added little extras and special touches. The Anantara staff were just superb in every respect. And as a big carnivore the provision of proper bacon at breakfast was just fabulous. I cannot do the overly crispy American style bacon… That stuff is just pants.

Now I have many friends and mates who rave about the sport of Angling, and as the earliest depictions of fishing are in Egypt from about 2000 BC and even in Chinese writings from the 4th Century BC describing fishing with silk line and hooks made of bent needles and bamboo poles. References to types of fishing can also be found in the early writings of the Greeks, Roman, Jewish and Assyrians. So these guys have lots of history to fall back on. I on the other hand rave not about angling, I rate it just up above train spotting in terms of exciting sports. But I do live by the mantra of try anything once. So never having fished before I was prepared to approach the event with an open mind. And we would be drinking beer once the sun was over the yardarm…! So all was not bad.

No fishing was proposed for our arrival afternoon so once showered we headed into the highlights that are Hua Hin town centre. Beer was the order of the afternoon and evening. And I must be honest we had a great night sampling the beers in several bars and closed the evening out with a fantastic pork wrap or two on the way home. Sleep in my huge bed came easy and was deep and fulfilling. Perhaps not so for my battle partner Ray who claimed I snored..! I heard nothing so it must have never happened. Breakfast was great with real bacon and the coffee was superb so fully sated we were off to go fishing.

When you arrive at Terry’s fishing lodge having pre booked your slot the fishing guides deal with everything for you. Bringing rods, bait, setting hooks and floats all for you. Even top tipping you where to cast. Now like I said earlier I am not an angler, but with no pun intended I was soon hooked. Seeing your float move knowing that a huge fish is toying with your bait, is it time to strike or not..? Mostly….no. Wait….. till that float tracks off at high speed then boom strike and the fish is on. On the line but not caught yet. That’s why they call it fishing not catching..! Now many things can go wrong from the strike to getting the fish onto the bank. Hooks bend, Fish turn the hook and slip off, lines snap, the fish run with the bait but not the hook. And many other dilemmas that great fishing tales are made of.

The exhilaration you feel when the rod bends and the line fly’s out… Is nothing compared to the frustration you feel when the rod snaps back and the fish is free. My largest run on no shows for fish was five consecutive fails…! So a good bite, great line out, a good strike…the excitement of reeling in then…BOOM, the rod fly’s back and the fish is off and in the reeds giggling at you. Our first success was Ray with a huge Red Tail, followed by Gavin and a big catfish. I was on bread as bait. And I could see my float being played with but not being taken. But I had a beer and I was sat in the shade so life was not all bad.

When it happens it’s like lightning, and it will happen when you’re least prepared. Now if you know about fishing you will know to keep your reel lock off once you have cast your line out. This lets the fish take the bait and track off and eat the hook. If for some reason your reel lock is on what can happen is the fish will take the bait, the line will go tight and the rod and reel will disappear into the lake getting towed by the fish…! Which to the casual observer is funny as hell..! To the unwitting fishing novice it’s the ultimate in screw ups….! Fortunately both times when Gavin and Ray committed this ultimate sin I was on hand to save the day, and I managed to rescue both rods…! Oh and learn how not to screw up myself.

It was not too long before my first proper bite. I have to be honest my heart was racing and the whole experience was thrilling. Reeling in my fish was way harder than I at first thought. Just when you think your winning they track off again dragging out more line. Several minutes of it winning and then me winning finally resulted in me getting my first catfish on the bank. Sadly my policy of catch and release into “Hot Grease” was not seen too favourably. So I had to return my big beauty to the water. If I was to eat fish today then I would have to order it off the menu from the restaurant. No lakeside BBQ today..! Ray and Gavin were both on a roll and were pulling in huge fish on a regular basis, using bread and fish as bait. My luck came later in the afternoon with a few beauties. But my final catch of the day had to be my most interesting, I had the same fish on my line four times. But got him on the bank only once.

He was a huge Asian Redtail and my first encounter with him was when I cast my bait two yards out from the bank. Straight away my float was moving around..then off it zoomed..! A carefully timed good clean strike and he was mine…so I thought…! Once I’d struck and he new he was on the line my fish was off like a rocket to the other side of the pool. So began my battle to bring him back. This fella was a big powerful fish, and he knew a thing to two about survival. Five minuets of reeling him in and of him tracking off and I thought I was getting somewhere. The line was tight I was doing my best to reel him in when “Ker pow” the line went slack the rod flew back and my prize was gone…! He had managed on his thrashing around to turn the hook and slip off. I was learning loads today, never knew fish could do that. But hey suck it up and crack on. So I re baited my line and cast again back into the same spot. Within seconds my bait was being played with and the float was dancing around. Not daring to take my eyes off the float, but still sipping my beer, well I was on my Hollibobs. As I placed the bottle down I heard a Fizzzzz as my float and line sped off again…! Another good strike and I was back into fighting and reeling in my prize.

My prize obviously did not want to have his photo taken with me because he fought like mad tracking left and right. I diligently fighting him and reeling him in only for him to get close then track off out into the middle of the pond again…! When the line pings and the rod comes back at you. Hell that’s so disheartening. This time the hook had bent and he had escaped. The fishing guide, a very pleasant Thai young man who was re baiting my line said, “It’s the same fish..cast in the same place again.. He will take your bait again”. So in utter disbelief l did as instructed. Well buy me a pretty yellow dress and call me Esmerelda. Within seconds I had another bite, and the fight was re-on..! Very conscious of my two last failings I was being a tad more careful this time not being too strong so as to wrench the hook out or bend it, and with my rod steering the prize to where I wanted him to go….! Things were looking good, yes he fought well and on occasion tracked back out into the pool, but I was sure I had the measure of him this time.

Now I’ve been told a huge load of bull about fish in my time, things like their memory is only three seconds long, they don’t feel pain, they work on instinct… And much more. Well after my run in with this fish my view on them has radically changed. I was feeling good at this point sure that my quarry was tiring. I knew I was. But now was not the time to give in with the goal in sight. So trying to keep calm and reeling and trying to steer my prize in the direction I wanted. You would be amazed at my shock when my line this time shot off to my left and under the concrete terrace I was stood on. The fish in a few swift zig zag movements had dragged the line along the concrete edge severed the line and was free again…! It was at this moment I wanted to drain the pool, find the fish and convince that fish to go into a frying pan with the aid of a baseball bat…! I was livid..! But the ever present and calm guide re hooked and baited my line and told me to cast exactly in the same spot again. Evening was fast approaching and a hot shower in our hotel was calling, but ok one last effort.

With determination and the last draught of my beer I cast my line. Plop in it went at the exact spot as I had cast before…now to wait. Times a crazy thing, you wait for a bus and it drags out unbelievably, you’re with a pretty woman and it flies by. Time can be cruel. My previous casts had been snapped up in seconds. This one, well it just seemed to take forever. Was my bait being moved did the float just bob…? No calm down the line will fizz out when it’s ready. It seemed like ages then it was there…first a little movement. A wise old fish this one. Then a solid tug! Steady.. Don’t strike yet let him properly take the bait and run. So we watched….Ray, Gavi and I. My two valiant comrades feeling my pain had stopped fishing to cheer me on.

Then it happened, the line fizzed the float zoomed off and the new game was afoot. Another good strike, and the fight began. He was not prepared to surrender easily, nor was I. To and fro he darted tracking out deep only for me to reel him in. Sweat was dripping from me, but I was not for giving in. This fish and I had come to far for that, he would be mine if I had to stay the night on this bank. Not a fact a relished as the mosquitos had stared to rise. As like on the previous attempt to land this bad boy, he tried all sorts of manoeuvres, but I was savvy to his ploys by now, even walking up the terrace so he could get no advantage from his under terrace cave. He took some playing and I must say he gave as good as he got. But the honour was mine as eventually with the help of the fishing guide and a large landing net my nemesis was beached. Once the photo shoot was completed he was returned safely to his home… But deep in my heart I so wanted that bad boy on my plate that night. Well fishing completed off we walked to the lodge and our lift to the hotel. And really that could have been it for the day. But I had fifteen minutes in the car for a bit of reflection. And all that guff about fish being stupid, with limited brains and feelings. Hog wash is all I’ll say to that. They are certainly way more intelligent than they are given credit for. Can they learn..? Hell yes. Don’t ever see one using a screwdriver, or driving a car anytime soon, but they can learn and they are quite intelligent. And I for one maybe respect them a little more after my first days fishing.

Day two of the Gavin Fifield Light Infantry Invitational Fishing Competition.

After a hearty breakfast with great coffee and real bacon again in the wonderful hotel that is the Anantara. I was mulling over my stratagem for today’s follow up competition. Why not wing it like I had the day before I hear you ask. Well the previous evening a huge game changer had happened. Goong the lovely wife of our host Gavin had arrived. And I’d been told that fish queue up to throw themselves on her hook and line. If I was to seize the day I might need a proper plan.

With our arrival at the Hau Hin Fishing Lodge, the fishing guides got us straight into our stride. Rods were baited up and we were soon immersed into the days competition. My mind racing on how to nobble the competition. The biggest danger being Goong.

Now out and out cheating is not my game, and being an Englishman something I’d not stoop so low as to do. So how to take Goong’s mind off the win..? Arriving with the lovely Goong was her son CJ. Sadly he was not fishing as he had loads of school work that he had to complete. But in the manner of a proud son he was praising his Mum up as the champion angler she is. Might I have found a way in here, the edge I’ve been looking for, the chink in her armour. The gauntlet was thrown down..! A wager with CJ…! That will do the trick, add extra pressure to the mother through the child. Perhaps I was an evil genius in a previous life. So the wager was struck, one hundred Baht with CJ, it being who would catch the first fish Goong or I. Could any mother see her son loose his pocket money..? The pressure was now truly applied.

To be honest I do feel a little bad about Goong’s day, it was like the fish had all gone on holiday, vacationing the other side of the pool to where ever Goong chose to fish. Her cast after cast after cast was fruitless. Making my first fish and my victory feel all the sweeter. And for me that was the end of it…But nobody told the fish and they continued to avoid Goong’s line for most of the day. And I had a huge inward celebration when she hauled in a huge catfish just before lunch. The fight of the day ended up being a team event, a huge Redtail fought like mad and refused to play nice. It took the combined efforts of Ray, Gavin, Goong and the fish guide to wear him out and finally beach him. What a fish, a large sleek king of a fish. Warranting a team photo. Before being returned to his home.

Ray and Gavin had successful mornings catching four large fish apiece. Gavin though fishing in our pool was also working a separate line in the pool behind us searching for an elusive Alligator Gar. And as is when fishing he had it on the line twice before finally reeling him in. Ray and I were casting our lines from an open area between to large shady trees. Just as well there’s no prize for casting over your mates line, cause I’d have secured first prize. Fortunately our lines did not snag and with a bit of reeling in and jiggling about honour was saved. And Ray did not get too frustrated by my inept casting skills. To anyone that knows me especially my children, they will tell you that the games not over till I win. I just am not at all keen on loosing, at anything. But this fishing malarkey..! The Chest-miester may have to get more practice in if I’m going to be any good at it. The final tally if my memory serves me was Ray on seven fish. Gavin and I on six, and Goong on four or five, please forgive me I’m just not too sure. But as a gentleman I’ll say five for Goong.

With the mosquitos rising again as the evening drew closer it was time to pack up and head back to our hotel. So school books packed, rods returned, a swift final beer a goodbye to Terry our host and off we set. The journey to our hotel was interrupted only briefly for a call to an ATM to secure more beer tokens for the evenings revelry and a trip into the chemist for antihistamine cream for my eighteen Mossi bites. It was agreed on a forty minute turnaround in our hotel rooms to scrub up before popping out for supper. In good military fashion Ray and I were squeaky clean and in good order and on parade well in time. The venue for our vitals was to be an oceanfront seafood restaurant near the centre of Hua Hin. What a fantastic choice, the food and service was super. And the whole experience capped of with the smell and the sound of the sea under you and the stars and moon above, truly a great location.

Now it’s not for me to ever get in a position to tell governments or councils how to behave, or what’s good or bad. But for some reason the powers that be want to dismantle these restaurants and move the businesses elsewhere. And I’m sure that their reasons are totally valid. But when it happens I’m sure that Hua Hin will lose a lot of its beautiful character. Much like when they closed the night street vendors along Sukumvit road in Bangkok. Only time will tell.

With CJ nearly falling asleep at the supper table. It was time for family Fifield to head back to the hotel, and let this poor guy sleep. But the night was still young for Ray and myself. So saying a hearty farewell to Goong, CJ and Gavin. We headed off in to the night with tummies full of great food and wallets full of beer tokens. Ahh…. the Amber Nectar, the distillation of the forbidden fruit. How sweet it tastes. The San Miguel was going down nicely, the company in Aladdin Bar was very convivial, our meeting with the four Scots was quite funny, but thats a whole new story that I’ll let Ray tell if ever he wishes to. I’ll just say that she was not my wife and her look of total distain had no effect on me what so ever…!

Just after midnight the bars and clubs start too close, and to be honest that for us was a nice time to head home. We had a fantastic night and had drank our fill, it was the ideal time to head for bed. Just one place to visit before the taxi to the hotel. No night on the lash can be complete without topping it off with a beef or pork wrap. So it was off to the street vendor and our munchies were dealt with, not bad for £1.60.

Our Tuk Tuk was a comfortable and a speedy chariot, and I could hear my big comfy bed calling for me. A warm shower and in but a few moments I was snug as a bug in a rug. Sleep came easily hastened by Mr San Miguel. If Ray or I snored I’m not too sure we would have heard it thanks to our Amber Nectar induced comas. Eight hours of great sleep and we roused bright eyed and bushy tailed. Yet another fantastic breakfast with Jennifer our waitress looking after our every need. Wonderful coffee and proper bacon.. Does a man need anything more..? Before our return to Bangkok it was time for the lads to hit the pool. All four of us were just big kids, and CJ loved it, he had three people to throw him around and dive off their shoulders. We did take advantage of the pool bar, well it would have been rude not to, but it was for coffees.

Oh… And a final pool note, we met the Indian equivalent of Rowen Atkinson in the pool, not everyday you get to share the hotel pool with Mr Bean. Even if he is Indian. So finally wrapping CJ in a large towel it was back to our rooms for a quick dry off and change then time to book out. I must add in closing that the Anantara hotel is wonderful, and I cannot thank enough our hosts Gavin, Goong and CJ for a fantastic experience. Once the valet had brought the car and our bags were loaded it was time to get seated comfortably so Gavin could return us to Bangkok and I could start planing my next adventure. To use radio parlance..”Stay tuned, don’t touch that dial..!  there is more to come.”

WHY VISIT INDIA..?

 I believe that Sir Edmond Hillary put it best when he was asked why he climbed Everest..! His reply was “Because it’s there..!” Why did I leave the comforts of my Luxury  Penthouse Condo in Bangkok to visit India..? Well much for the same reason really.

But what I didn’t want to do is sign up for a Top Ten Attractions of India bus tour, surrounded by lard arsed Europeans and Yanks complaining about the heat and the cost, and no WIFI….! Non of that for this intrepid Phileas Fogg.

In Jules Verne’s great read Philias and Passepartout take three days to cross India from Bombay to Calcutta. I must say that I have spent longer just getting about from city to city. The travel gods must clearly have been on Mr Fogg’s side. But it’s the train delays that are making by journey so exceptional, I’m experiencing way more than I ever would sitting on a luxury coach next to Brad from Texas or some Backpacker from Hull trying to find what’s within themselves in India.

I must declare that I too like Philias have a Passepartout. I have been ably helped and abetted by Angel Priya, her brother, cousin and family. They have helped me see, hear, feel and taste what I would consider to be the real India.

My choice to visit this great family has shown me so much that I would have missed on a package tour. Take my first day for example, a nine hour train delay. That time has to be filled and it was by my engaging with some charming families and fellow travellers on Platform one of New Delhi Train Station. Did I want that delay no.. Did I enjoy it yes, and I personally think my journey was richer for the experience I had with these charming people.

My Air conditioned sleeper coach on the train was though comfortable, a veritable let down after the excitement of the thriving waiting room and food hall of the platform. The coach was cleanish, warm and dry and regularly visited by the Chai Wallah and other vendors. And my sleep was mostly undisturbed. But those stories are yet to come…!

Pre Travel trip to the Chemist..!

Dec 07 2016

Staying healthy and safe while in India is best addressed before you go with a preemptive strike at your local chemist.

A quick peek online will help you understand the problems you will face in India. Generally you should be up to date with Routine Vaccines. For India you will need Hepatitis A and Typhoid. Both these illnesses you can get from contaminated food or water regardless of where your staying.

Especially if your staying with friends or relatives , visiting smaller cities or rural areas, or if like me you are an adventurous eater. Might I suggest a chat with your doctor about Hepatitis B, Malaria, Japanese Encephalitis, Rabies and Yellow fever. Depending on what your plans are, and your exposure to animals and the great outdoors. Once your vaccines are in date and in order, then the next best thing you will need is going to be your personal travel med pack. This is not your normal first aid kit, though I do recommend having one of those as well to cover your daily cuts and bruises. Your personal travel med pack should enable you to deal with snap problems until your back in a location to get to a Doctor.

Things like Diarrhoea, dehydration, constipation, migraines, vomiting and fevers. So I would suggest Medicinal Charcoal for those tummy bugs. Binozyt 250mg for Typhus. Ultracet Tramadol for Intense Pain. Loperamide Al 2. For Diarrhoea. And your regular daily medication for any normal problems like high blood pressure, cholesterol etc.

A few things you should always have to hand are ‘High Deet’ insect spray, and a good Antihistamine cream, for if or rather when you’re bitten. All this is above and beyond your regular travel first aid kit. Think like a Boy Scout…”Be Prepared..!”

Getting the Ideal Flight.

Finding that perfect flight can be a pain, though there are websites that can look for you. And to be honest I did try a few. What did I find out along the way….! Well once you start looking at the websites the web algorithms notice and prices change. Not always for the better. So a way around this is to use a VPN. Or clear your history, turn on your private browser. And you will get way better deals. For me personally I found “Cheapo Flights” to be the best. Check them out at cheapoflights.com. If you have the flexibility try popping in dates a day or two either side of your ideal choice….the savings can be amazing. When booking your flight be wary of all the little add on’s and make sure you un-tick them.

If your an online bookin sort of person, four days before your flight is the norm. But I have check on baggage so I’ll be doing desk checkin. On a side note…! It beggars belief that in this day and age people are still going through customs with liquids and sharp objects. Causing huge delays on an already mind numbing process…! If you are one of these people….Plese don’t fly on the same day as me.

9 Days and 5 hours.. and counting..! Well not long to go now, so what have we achieved today..Visa collection..! To begin with I had some trepidation… On the web my research led me to think it was going to be a nightmare. Firstly I checked out the Indian High Commission website.

I then followed up by a good look at the FCO travel advice page for India. Once done I was led to India’s e-Tourist Visa website. This last website was the one that I got my Visa from. The process was simple and payment easy with a Visa card. My Visa is good for 30 days with one entry and exit. Although longer and more entry and exits can be obtained.

Make sure you check your eligibility, passport validity it should be good for Six months from the date of arrival. You should also have a valid return ticket or onward travel. It also stipulates you should have enough cash to spend During your stay… How they judge that I have no idea..! So E-Tourist Visa if your eligible is a doddle, Apply online, pay visa fee online, receive eTV online, Fly to India.I printed off a couple of Visa’s so I have spare just in case. I also took the opportunity to copy a few scans of my passport picture page. This will help if you want to get an Indian Sim Card. So that’s my Visa sorted…!

Home work for tonight is a little research on New Delhi Airport and how to get to Delhi main Railway station… Should make good reading. Catch you tomorrow.

Six days and counting..!

Dec 10 2016. So the clock is ticking….! 6 days, 10 hours, 30 mins and 09 seconds until my arrival in India. I’ll be taking a direct flight from Bangkok to New Delhi. Then sampling the delights of the great India railway system to get me to Gwalior. My base of operations for onward travel to points of beauty and historic culture. Only a cheeky six hour journey. In Gwalior I’ve pre booked a nice hotel with air conditioned double room and a tasty breakfast, to enable me to bath in culture well rested and fortified….! My major concern at this moment is as India is the land of Tea… What’s their coffee is like and may I have to take a reserve stash just in case.

I would like to feel that I’ll be updating my blog daily, though who knows if I’m bored on a train or flight or maybe things get super interesting the blog updates may come thick and fast. As the clock continues to count down what I’ll strive to do is cover the preparations that I have completed to get a smooth trip in order. Things like Visa, Medication, Money transfer even the basics like packing. In the hope that readers may benefit from any pitfalls I uncover.. And the solutions I find.

The Trip to the Money changers.

Dec 14 2016.

The fact that the powers that be in India decided to get rid of most of their currency is perhaps ammunition for another blog. Needless to say it has resulted in Indian Rupees being as rare as hens teeth here in Thailand.

So one may ask, how did I manage to secure mine..! Well let me tell you a little story. I first went to the money changer in TESCO Fortune, a gentleman of the name Kob. He was quite nice, and a transaction of 15000 Thai Baht was to be changed for Indian Rupees. I was given his card and instructed that there would be no problem and I was to call him on the morning of the Fourteenth. The day before I fly. So dutifuly at 09:00 on the appointed day the call was made…! “Sorry no rupees in stock…No rupees in Bangkok…! Sorry sorry…!” Well as I had been studiously researching the web about getting rupees in India and hearing if huge queues, several hour waits at ATM lines just for the cash to run out. You may imagine…I was not best pleased.

I have a dear friend here in Bangkok called Barry, we had recently been to Vietnam together and he also had just returned from Hong Kong. So a swift call to Barry and he suggested a money changer in Asoke where he gets his foreign cash. So with optimism in my heart and my dander up. I grabbed a TukTuk to Asoke, where complete with a copy of my passport I presented myself to the young man behind the desk. “Do you have any Indian Rupees..?” I cautiously asked. His reply came from behind a paper face mask. “No Rupees in Bangkok…!” Damn I thought… Not a great start to my Hollibobs..! ” How many rupees do you need he challenged.” My reply was “15000 Baht..!”

Well let’s put this next bit down to Fate, Karma or even the TV being on behind him. Because he must have miss heard me. “I’ll make a phone call, wait here” he said gesturing me to the only chair. And wait I did, a good twenty minutes. My masked new best friend then sent me along the desk to an elderly lady. “How many Rupees you want “, she asked. I repeated 15000 Thai baht’s worth. She then proceeded to roll her eyes. And tell me that the young man had said I wanted 50000 Baht’s worth. So it would appear that if you just was a normal amount of Rupees…it’s a no show.. But if you require shed loads.. Phone calls can be made. Me I was just happy for the confusion and that I got my Rupees.. My Hollibobs are back on track. My alarm is set for 05:00 and India here I come.

From Bangkok to Gwalior India.

Dec 16 2016

So Thursday morning my alarm dutifully went off and I sprang into action…! Kettle on, shit, shower and a shave….followed by a hot coffee. Dressed in my traveling attire of tee shirt , shorts and flip flops with my small travel rucksack and wheel-able suitcase I was off down stairs to grab a Taxi. At 05:30 in Bangkok taxis are everywhere so getting one was a breeze. Ensuring the meter was on I and a quiet cabby sped for the airport. The roads were unusually clear and passage swift. Bangkok main airport is well laid out and easy to navigate, so finding gate 4 area P was a doddle. The Jet airways staff were very pleasant, my E visa did the trick, I was a little worried but they were happy with it. I spoke to the lady nicely and secured a door seat with the extra leg room. My suitcase disappeared along the conveyer belt to rejoin me in New Delhi. So this happy little teddy was off to buy my Thai re-entry visa..! This is a must if you want effortless re-entry to thailand..!

OK it was now about 06:05, with that being said if you have to start work that early turn up with a smile on your face, don’t have a face like a professional Lemon Taster. The Lady who dealt with me was un-helpful, obstructive and disinterested to say the least. I might add also that if you work in an office where you expect people to fill out your mandatory forms, you might want to provide pens even if you choose to tie them to the desk. Fortunately like condoms and fresh boxers I never travel without. So the form was completed with my swish Parker Pen… No Biro for me…!

With my re-entry visa in my passport off I went to immigration with my light Travel rucksack in hand. The queue as expected, was long and large. I amused myself by a bit of Facebook live arseing around in the queue much to the annoyance or amusement of my fellow traveler’s. Now in this day and age one would think it would be nearly impossible for people to approach baggage check in with sharp objects and copious amounts of fluid. But here we have it. The Kevin’s and Karen’s of this world who have impulsively decided to travel the world to find themselves. So with blades that would do Crocodile Dundee proud, and enough bottled shampoos and conditioners to float a small boat they approach baggage check in..! OK so today they will learn something, that’s cool. But it delay’s the rest of us who comply with the rules. So I wish airports would just take the offenders send them right to the back of the Hall to a few tables where they can sort their lives and luggage out. Not let them unpack and repack at the screening station delaying us true globetrotters.

Once I had seamlessly navigated the screening I had plenty of time for a coffee, and the mandatory toilet stop. Because my Dear Old Mum taught me to “Go before you go…!” And then I was at the check in gate. A few moments then our gate was opened. Posh people first, followed by us lesser mortals and in a moment or two I was sat in my seat…..! Then it started…! What I feel is some what akin to slapstick comedy. Twenty four years in Her majesty’s military has given me a wicked sense of humour, and what I witnessed tickled me pink..! The Ninety five year old lady trying to fit a mattress into the overhead compartment, blocking the way of two younger relatives trying to fit a kitchen top into the adjacent overhead compartment….! And twenty or so fellow travers trying to squeeze between them to take their seats. I must confess I did inwardly giggle. And full marks to the Jet Airways Trolly Dolly who got it all sorted the majority of objects being sent to the hold. She had the patience of a saint..!

Our flight was swift and smooth, a nice prawn rice meal, a passable coffee. A Jason Bourne movie, a little snooze and we had arrived. The landing was textbook, and our getting off the aircraft with said mattress and assorted kitchen bits was longer than normal but painless. Now here is where my research with our dear friend Mr Google came in really handy. No one tells you that at New Delhi airport there are three immigration areas. Well Mr Google does if you look really hard. First is Indian passports, fair one it is their country. Second is Non Indian passports. Now here’s the rub…..the third…E Visas. One might think that as you walk through immigration upon seeing “Non Indian passport” that would be the place to queue for forty minutes. And upon getting to the front of said queue, being told your in the wrong place. Thank you Mr Google. I very smugly paraded past my fellow traveler’s to a very small group of E Visa warriors. To be seamlessly processed by a very smart looking Immigration official. One slight addition to the process is the filling in of your entry card to hand in to immigration. I did watch in amusement as Twatpacker after Twatpacker got to the front of their lines to be brutally told no card no immigration..!

A heads up about New Delhi Railway Station.

To get to the next leg of my journey the infamous New Delhi Railway Station. It used to back in the day involve a terrible taxi ride. But fear not gentle readers, things have improved wondrously. New Delhi has a fantastic Mass Transit Railway system. 60 Rupees, 31 Thai baht or 71 pence in Great Euro Free British Pounds. And Airport to Trainstation is a breeze..! The trains are fast and spotless, and the in train commentary is spoken in three languages, Urdu, Hindu and English.

Hells teeth. I’ve had people try to scam me on most of the continents of the world..! I have even scammed people. Taken them hook line and sinker..! But as a Man of the world.. You tend to forget how easy it is to get spanked…! And  “Spanked ” I mean taken to the cleaners. Hotel room emptied, passport gone, reserve cash disappeared. Jewellery spirited way..! And all you have is your word against a clerk. That you didn’t leave things out in the open or not secure.

OK…what might you have done wrong..?

Firstly..left your banking details.. In the room… Available to anybody, cleaner, bus boy, concierge, plumber, anyone wandering about…! Your room being locked as you leave does not mean it’s secure all day.. How long do the girls take to sort your room out..? Half an hour maybe longer…! How many times have you walked down a hall way… Just to see doors to rooms wide open and nobody in the neighbourhood.!

Let’s look beyond the hotel..! If you think like Charles Dickens character ‘Fagin’ who wants to separate your cash from you then you may just get the idea about someone wishing to rob you..! OK.. Most scams at New Delhi Train station involve a person of authority telling you that what you wish to do is now no longer available…! This may be backed up by a credible ID or badge. The idea is that this paragon of authority tells you that your trains delayed or not running today. No train, no journey. Then you need a new ticket, and method of transport… NOW STEPS IN YOUR  SAVIOUR…! Perhaps a taxi driver, a Porter with new information, A Tour Operator with a new schedule….! Just trust me when I say.. “DO NOT GET SUCKERED IN?..!” Ignore the slick talking ,’Guide..!’  Your ticket is valid, the train is on time, the platform is not under renovation.. The guy at the Xray scanner at the entrance to the Station is not really a Ticket Inspector.. Just breeze past him..! If he really becomes a pain.. Take a photo of him, and ask to photo his ID..! He will hate this…. And probably disappear … Well for half an hour… At least..! The International tourist office in New Delhi Station is and always has been on the first floor. And now is open 24/7 365 days a year..!

The Joy’s of New Delhi Railway Station.

Dec 17 2016

Arrival at New Delhi Railway Station is best facilitated using the Mass Transit Railway. But if that’s not doable…Then the Taxi should drop you off at the Main entrance. Now I was under the impression that the MRT stopped at New Delhi Train Station, it does not. It is the other side of a large road junction and Taxi Car Park combined. As you surface from the MRT look ahead and a little to the left and the great facade of the Station is visible. Gripping your possessions close to you, walk briskly to the station. Stay alert for Kamikaze Taxis, thousands of scooters, horse and oxen drawn carts and thousands of people.

As you approach the last roadway in front of the station, make no eye contact with anyone until you are safely up the stairs and in the station. Failing to observe this protocol will result in you being stopped and offered every service imaginable… And a few you might not have ever imagined.

You will be told by anyone you foolishly make eye contact with that the station is closed, under repair, your ticket is invalid, you have the wrong ticket, your trains cancelled and or anything to get you to go with them to sort out your problem that did not exist three minutes ago. If you have a ticket purchased by your hotel or online by yourself ‘Winner..!’ If you require a ticket there is only one place to get it without queueing with the general population and taking pot luck on getting a seat or berth. That place is the “International Tourist Bureau..!” Accept no substitute….no matter who tells you. It’s not closed nor has it moved nor is it under renovation. “Do not go with anyone in a Taxi to this fictitious “New Office..!”

At the front of the station and on the high walkways between platforms are what seems like hundreds of men who’s sole aim is to get you to go to a Bogus Tourist Office to change your ticket, or get a taxi to your location as your train is cancelled. Don’t stop and talk to them, stand tall and walk past them.. If you need help go to a Uniformed Rail Policeman these gentlemen are normally Sikhs, wearing turbans. Proper police uniforms and are over six-foot tall. They are more than happy to help you.

Getting to the International Tourist Bureau, is not super difficult, if you enter the station at the platform number one entrance. If like me you enter from the MRT entrance you’re at platform sixteen. Again no big drama walk over the main bridge to platform one. Again stop for no one. It’s one bridge you go from one end to the other. At the ‘platform one’ end walk down the stairs to the platform level, walk past the security man at the big gate as if you leaving the station. Once through the gate look left, there are some huge stairs, go up the stairs and on the first floor turn right, about seventy metres on the right is the International Tourist Bureau booking office.

The process in the booking office is quite painless if you have the correct items with you. Passport, a working pen to correctly filled out the form and enough money for the ticket. Top tip on entering the office go get a ticket from the machine on the wall as this is the number you are called to the desk by. Don’t do your paperwork then get a ticket as you will just be queueing for ever. So ticket number in hand, fill out the ticket request form. Then go to the gentleman sat at the little desk on the right of the room. Tell him what you would like to achieve. He will check and tell you if it’s possible and give you a time frame and for the form your trains number. Then the easy bit go find a comfy place to sit and wait until they call your number. When the light comes on with your number go to the correct desk. Go through exactly what you require again with this new person, once you have the ticket printed it’s set in stone…! You can pay cash or card.

My train was meant to leave at 20:15 now this being India rail, one must take that with a pinch of salt, and maybe treat that time as a guideline…! The ticket I had was for First class. Maybe now I should impart to you my understanding of the India rail booking system. There are several types of seating all which can be reserved. Ranging from Posh to SL or sleeper. The final and cheapest is General class, this last one General class is technically a few coaches on the tail of the train that is a free for all. And I mean free for all..! When the train pulls into the station and before it’s even stopped people are getting off, if they can, because the moment the train stops every general class ticket holder will swarm the doors of the train with the goal of getting on the train. Not caring a jot if people still wish to get off. For them failure to get the train means several hours more waiting, or even a cancelled next train. So I understand the haste put on boarding the train. One thing I did notice and thought was a great idea was Women only carriages. It would be a bonus to know that the female members of ones family could travel alone safely..!

The train will be on the platform for maybe ten or so minutes… And it’s not unusual to see people with small children and their worldly possessions having finally worked their way through the throng just getting off as the train whistle sounds announcing its imminent departure. While this boarding pantomime is going on, up and down the outside of the train the Chai Wallah’s ply their trade selling hot tea through the windows of the carriages. Calling “Chai chai chai..!” as they patrol the outside of the train. While waiting for our eventual train that arrived at 01:33 some five hours late there was ample time to witness the activities engaged by people and animals on the platforms. And also sample the street food and coffee sold on the platform.

I love people watching, ever since I read the book by Desmond Morris. A great read if I say so myself, I’ve loved watching the way people react to their situations. And a train platform is a veritable window on the soul of society. All walks of life are there trying to do their thing. From the vendors competing against each other to make that sale. The Porters in their distinct red coloured tops who are the font of all knowledge pertaining to train travel. Who as if by Magic get you to the exact spot on the platform that the door you need stops at..!

All along the platform are people with time to kill, perhaps the train they wanted has been cancelled, or delayed or perhaps isn’t until the morning. You find folks laying on makeshift beds wrapped in a blanket oblivious to the cacophony of sound around them. Then there’s the people in a hurry, desperate to make the next connection or face the hours or even day’s of delay’s racing to get to the correct platform. And more than once I witnessed a couple of chaps with what might have been a whole shops contents in tarp’s stacked on the platform waiting for the train, heading to a festival or market.. Good luck loading that lot onto the train guys..!

Armed Soldiers stood stationary, or apparently wandering aimlessly, thought if you watch them for some time a regular patterned beat unfolds. The platforms conspicuously absent for what I’d call train staff, though as you walk along the main platform and glance inside half opened doors the offices are hives of work by these unseen managerial staff. No public place in India would be the same without its beggar population. In India as with other countries in the world like Nigeria or Kenya to name but two. There are The Rich, The Poor and then those who have Nothing. India has more than its fair share of the ‘Have Nothing’s’. Now I’m not the United Nations I cannot help everyone. But taking my lead from a Great Lady….! Princess Diana, who’s motto was “We should try and commit a random act of kindness daily…!” I do try to be a little ray of sunshine in someone’s life daily.

Time killing and hunger at New Delhi Train Station.

Dec 19 2016

My idea was to arrive at the station. Find the tourist office, wander in and buy a ticket on the next train to Gwalior. However the reality of the situation was far from that. India railways transport millions of people and possessions daily. So tickets are a premium. And as such are purchased well in advance. There are a few tickets held in reserve just for tourists like me. And occasionally tickets for one reason or another get cancelled and are instantly up for grabs. Book early is the solution..!

Even tourist tickets should and can be booked in advance, as they disappear fast. As in my case there was no availability for seating until 21:15 that night. Nine hours away. Even I smiled at the Ticket vendor as our conversation unfolded. “Next train to Gwalior please..!” His retort was after several seconds scrolling his computer screen. ” It’s in Nine hours…!” Me.. ” The next trains in Nine hours..?” Vendor..”No the next available seat is in nine hours..!’ Me “Which type..?” The ever patient vendor “First Class.”…Me “I’ll take it..!”

So what’s a chap to do, got time to kill so no use moaning about it. Especially as the office staff were being awesome in helping me get to my destination. So with my ticket in hand and a monumental wait I went down stairs to the railway platforms to sample the delights of what the rather large station has to offer. If you know me you will realise that my philosophy is that there are not many things that a good coffee can’t fix. So with that in mind and my suitcase in tow I sought refreshment.

Platform one of New Delhi Station has several News Agent type of shops. Three waiting rooms, Upper class, lower class and an unaccompanied female waiting room. And also an international refreshments area. This was my salvation..! It offered cuisine from around the globe. Well, six bits of the globe anyway. But more than enough choice for the weary traveler. I had a swift wander around and choose western cuisine. Why you may ask had I traveled thousands of miles to eat food I could get in the local fast food outlet on the high street of Gorton. My answer dear reader was it looked the cleanest.

For my choice of food I went for a Small Pizza, and a Cheese Burger. May I say the Pizza was well in order. However the burger…! I’m sure Jules Winfield of Pulp Fiction fame would never have rated it up there with the ‘Big Kahuna Burger..!’ For a ‘Tasty Burger’  it was not. My friends and people who know me, may have picked up overtime that one of the joys in my life is enjoying a good coffee. The emphasis being on the good. Coffee nowadays can be obtained just about anywhere. But good coffee has to be found..! It does not always come in fine chinaware, or a branded mug…! Costco and Starbucks take note.

Sometimes it’s found at a stall in a Christmas market, or out the back of a caravan in some deserted lay-by. Once these oasis of great coffee are found they are to be noted and news of there whereabouts spread far and wide. One such Jem is the “Chai Wallah” in the International Refreshments Area of New Delhi Station. He can be found just inside the entrance on the left…! It was a joy to have quaffed his beverage. While paying for my steaming hot cup of ambrosia like nectar, I felt a small hand prodding my calf muscle..! Realising this to be not too normal I looked behind me on the floor. I was a little amazed by what I found. Two small children hands cupped begging for change. Now as I’ve mentioned before I’m not the United Nations and I cannot help everybody but I am a great advocator of Random Acts Of Kindness. So I treated them to lunch, they were both genuinely grateful. And I felt that I had made someone’s day brighter.

I don’t think that there is any part of India’s transport network that is not affected by animals, and why should the rail system be any exception..? On all platforms you will find any number of dogs, with any number of legs. Out in the Carpark Taxi area, Cows, Buffalo, Donkeys and even Camel. On and under the platforms fairly large rats roam, engaging in mortal combat with the dogs on the odd occasion the dogs drop down onto the tracks which must be quite often judging by the number of three legged dogs. But during my stay on the platform I witnessed several trains slowly creep in to the station being led by a cow strolling along the track not a care in the world, and totally ignoring the train drivers protestations on the train horn.

Returning to the platform why does it seem that all the western travellers appear lost, I had the same two people walk past me half a dozen times, and they were just as lost the final time as they were the first. Just ask for help..! It’s not that the majority of Indians don’t speak English..! And they would love to engage you in conversation and would help you in a heart beat. One final thing that tickled me and is an observation that holds true in Chinese bureaucracy and the India rail managerial levels is that important people don’t wear name tags. Just that the more important you are the more biro’s you have on display in your breast pocket. Up to but never more than four.

My 2 star Pet Friendly Hotel the Hotel Mayur Gwalior.

Dec 23 2016

My train journey from New Delhi was spent asleep on a drop down bed in a First Class AC reserved coach. Non of my fellow traveler’s snored to my knowledge, and I hope I did not disturb them by snoring either. I had set my alarm to rouse me twenty minutes before my destination, giving me ample time to sort myself out and prepare to vacate the train. So duly roused bags secured I snuck out of the sleeper carriage so as not to disturbed my fellow travelers.

A short walk found me in the train door area one side of which was totally blocked by huge white bundles of I know not what. Wondering how I was to leave the carriage if the platform was the bundles side. And not wishing to traverse through the sleeper carriage in a hurry in the dark. I stood there pondering when salvation appeared in the guise of the porter. A quick conversation put my mind to rest, the platform at Gwalior was the clear side. But we were running an hour and twenty minutes late. Well not wishing to re find my bed in the dark I chose to remain in the gangway. As we were chatting the train started to decelerate and the porter opened the door and stood in the gap, lights flashing by him in the night. I turned to my rucksack to get my bottle of water, looked up and the porter was gone..! Door still open, faraway lights still flashing by in the night. A bit of me thought hells teeth he has fallen or jumped..! Another bit of me thought… No he must of continued his way down the carriage. But why leave the door wide open..? I had a lot to learn about the mystery’s of India railway travel. True to the porters word the train pulled into Gwalior station an hour and twenty minutes late. I got off the train and headed along the platform to the railway exit, a couple of carriages down the train stood the porter, non the worse for wear. With peace of mind I stepped out of the Train station.

What greeted me at this ungodly hour was maybe forty taxi drivers all baying for my custom. The cacophony of sound was quite over whelming. Being screamed at by forty people is non too pleasant. But I had endured a really long day, that had been interesting and awesome…! And Her Majesty the Queens Finest had trained me, I was not going to be overwhelmed by a mere forty cab drivers. So staying on the top step of the Train station entrance, and keeping the advantage of hight, I shouted..”Whoa.. You cannot all drive me to my hotel..!” I then selected a fairly old chap, he would put up less of a fight if the situation went bad, and said ” You will do lead on..!” My cabby led me to his Tuk Tuk, they are called Auto Taxis in India but they are a Tuk Tuk. Once in and my fare haggled to a reasonable level of extortion, off we set.

Less than five minutes and we were in front of The Hotel Mayur. The taxi payed. A knock on the door and the night manager let me in. Two minutes later I was in my room and sleep was beckoning fast, I did not care about the room I just wanted my bed and sleep. And did I sleep. The sun was well up when I woke… Dare I say it the clock showed well past Eleven O’clock when I surfaced. So out of bed and under the shower.! Big mistake. I stood under the shower head and turned the faucet on expecting two or three seconds of cold water then to bath my travel weary body in steaming hot, body soothing, trouble washing away hot water.

Not so, the temperature never changed…! So with my cake of Dove soap a cold shower it was. Followed by a cold shave. Once dressed I took stock of my room. I had payed for an ‘Executive AC Room’, with complimentary breakfast. “Pet Friendly.”

Now I added the “Pet Friendly.” Why you may ask as I’m not traveling with any pets. Let me enlighten you. The pets are already in the room for you. The bathroom and bedroom have each their own ant colonies, I am sharing the living area with four rather large spiders, and the bathroom has its own one. Living behind the bay curtains is a rather large, well eight inch long three inch round Lizard. Who I’m hoping is sorting out the mosquito problem. But please don’t take the last paragraph as a complaint. You get what you pay for, and I’m doing India on a budget. I’m sure there is way worse accommodation than what I have. And it’s nothing a little bit of hunting, trapping and bug spraying won’t cure.

Apart from the “Pets” issue, I could list loads of other things broken or missing from the room.. But why? All I’m going to do is sleep in the room and watch the odd bit of cricket on the TV, which fortunately works. Well I did pop down to reception to sort out the Hot Water, get some toilet paper and also wise up on breakfast times. Hot Water is available 07:00 till 11:00. Breakfast 07:00 till 10:30. The mosquitoes were streaming into my room through the window with no glass in it and the broken threaded mozzy netting. I mentioned this to the chap at the desk, and a lad was tasked to get it fixed. And fix it he did later that evening with two sheets of the Hindustan Times, and a roll of sellotape..! And now having been big game hunting around my room..! All is right with the world, and sleep is calling.

After breakfast the next morning I arranged to meet Prity and her brother for an introduction to the city of Gwalior. I was quite surprised to be told that my choice of Hotel, though close to the Trainstation was unsuitable and I would have to move to a Hotel more into the center of town. This would be arranged by Rajesh as he books visiting Doctors into this hotel on a regular basis.

A rapid phone call to the hotel, another to secure a taxi and off up stairs I went to repack. One of the beauty’s of traveling light is swift packing. So I was back in reception before the taxi’s arrival. The New Hotel was called the Hotel City Grand. Opposite the Old High Court, Lashkar Gwalior town center. Rajesh had got me mates rates at the hotel, a nice 50% discount. That dear friend is a winner.

The Hotel its self was much more hotel looking. Rather than the Youth Hostel like one I had chosen near the Trainstation. No pets in the room, all fixtures and fittings worked and there was glass in all the windows. One could say that I was perhaps a little more content with the accommodation now. My original booking had been purely practical, and only for one night, as I need somewhere near the Station because of my late arrival. Rajesh and Prity had just made my move so much easier.

The Hotel City Grand and the fried egg conspiracy.

Breakfast is not just about gulping down cold tea and soggy cereal while sitting at your kitchen counter. To eat breakfast like a king, you need to have proper portions of food that will fill you up. Breakfast is the most important meal of your day as it gives you enough energy to jump-start the day. No one can tell you more about the importance of the morning meal than someone who skipped it. My mantra for breakfast is “Never work before breakfast; if you have to work before breakfast, eat your breakfast first.” Washed down with lashings of great coffee.

Rajesh had booked my room including the complimentary breakfast. This was served in your room or in the restaurant two floors below my floor. So my first morning I ordered from my room. It was not a complicated order, A Flask of Coffee and Fried Eggs on Toast. The lady who took my order down at reception spoke wonderful English so nothing was lost in translation. Now having said that what arrived on my breakfast tray was far from the mark. Well the coffee was great, the toast was hot and wrapped in a serviette so as to remain warm. But there was a huge lack of eggs, it wasn’t that I was missing one. There were none. To make up for the shortfall there was a selection of Jams. Which I’m sure the Chef felt more than covered for the lack of fried eggs.

OK, so yes I’m an English man. But I’m not an old colonialist who will moan at the slightest thing. Tossing out comments like ” Was so much better when the British were in charge..” Or “Would never have been like this back in my day..!” I am, I feel sort of a quite amiable chap that is not too fond of making waves, or causing a fuss. With this in mind I decided to let the incident pass me by, and once I had eaten my fill I got ready to meet Prity and Rajesh in the lobby.

As you step out of the lift into the lobby there is a lounge like waiting area with a Large Screen TV that shows India news channels all day. There is also the main desk where you surrender your room key. Behind which was the lady who took my breakfast order. As I gave her my key She asked, “How is everything? Is the room OK? How was your breakfast.?” Well there is a difference between not making a fuss and being asked a direct question..! I Kept my reply short and polite.” The rooms Wonderfull, breakfast was ok, just the chef forgot the fried eggs.. but it was fine.”

Well fine it obviously was not..! The young lady assured me that she would personally have a chat with the breakfast chef before he left.. and things would be fine for tomorrow.

Well the morrow came. In my room I was debating whether to change my order for breakfast. But if the chef had been spoken to. Maybe I should give him the opportunity to show off his skills. So reception was given my order, coffee with two fried eggs on toast. It was not long before there was a polite knock on the door and the porter presented me with my tray.

Now I do find humour in the weirdest of places, and the contents of that tray made me giggle. Presented before me was a Flask of Coffee, cup and saucer. Toast securely wrapped in a Serviette. Small bowl of assorted jams. Knife Fork and Spoon. And a plate with two boiled eggs neatly severed in two. The thought of that plate still brings a smile to my lips even today.

Breakfast number three. The plot thickens. Maybe I could mitigate the problem of my missing fried eggs if I were to physically turn up to the restaurant and personally order them…! There was a bit of me warming to the challenge. Many great people have crossed India ranging from Genghis Khan, Marco Polo through Alexander the Great to Joanna Lumley and Sue Perkins. Would they have given up, surrendered to the fate of the food Gods. Or would they have battled thought securing their food of choice..! Fortified in the knowledge that greatness had gone before me I set off for the restaurant.

The restaurant didn’t have seating for singles or couples as the tables were presented in a manner ready for a wedding reception, in a nice ‘T’ formation and my fellow guests were randomly scattered around. I chose a vacant spot and grabbed a seat. There were two waiters stood by the Phone and the door to a dumb waiter fitted into the wall. Calls were made and the food from the kitchen arrived in the dumb waiter and was then served at the table. Off to the side of the room was the coffee and tea makings and a large selection of fruit and cereals.

One of the guys approached me for my order. Now not wishing to disappoint Genghis Khan or Sue Perkins I was going to get this egg conundrum sorted today..! He was a pleasant lad, with an engaging smile. So I calmly asked him. “Do you know what fried eggs are?” “yes..!” he replied. “Fantastic” said I. “I’ll have two fried eggs on toast please!” The young man went over to his phone to work his magic. I worked my magic at the coffee counter, then took my seat to await my manner from heaven…!

It was the coffee that did it I’m sure. I was on my second wonderful cup, self made just the way I like it. A good coffee has a way of calming the countenance, mellowing ones demeanour. Setting you up in the correct mood for the day. Which is why when my breakfast arrived I did not make a fuss, nor cuss or scream at the young man. I clearly accepted my fate. And the plate that was offered. The young man smiled and returned to his phone..! Setting the plate down I took a moment to absorb what lay before me. Today the bar had been risen. I had been presented with four hot rounds of toast, Butter and Jam. A small pot of Ketchup. A main plate on which was chopped parsley, diced tomatoes, a copped chilli and some diced sweet red onion. And the piece d’la resistance……Two boiled eggs that had been fried.

What is a chap to do? Admit failure. Slink off to my room and sulk..? Weep heartfelt tears over missing fried eggs..? Here’s what I did. Firstly I enjoyed the fine repast set before me, no point in it going to waste. Then over coffee number three I considered my options. Having pondered for some time it came to me that it was simply a matter of lack of communication. We simply had a glitch, a crossed wire, expectations and reality not in harmony. All that was needed was a simple solution and the cosmic balance would be achieved once more.

I looked to Mr Google for my answer, and it came in the guise of a you tube video of how to fry the perfect egg. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5_HmfZyhKo. Now armed with this snippet of wisdom I readied myself to meet Prity in the lobby.

Waiting for me at reception was the delightful young lady who collects my key each morning. She greeted me with her ” How is everything, how was your breakfast…?” Seizing my moment I explained to her the saga of the missing fried eggs, and our communication failings. And just incase Boiled fried eggs were a cultural norm here I showed the dear lady the video. There was I might add a light bulb moment, a Shazam instance. “I see” said the sweet receptionist, “I’ll speak with the Chef again..!”

So fortified with renewed confidence that I may get fried eggs for my final breakfast and feeling like Genghis Khan I set off into the wilds of Gwalior.

My final breakfast at the Hotel City Grand had come all too soon. But it was with high hopes that I descended the stairwell to the dinning hall. The two waiters were in their customary positions. I availed myself of my mandatory coffee and placed my order with the young chap. Now it was time to wait..! And wait I did..! The coffee was pleasant so I wasn’t to concerned with clock watching though I had a Taxi booked to get me to the Trainstation. It was perhaps after fifteen minuets that I reminded the waiter that I was still waiting for my order..! He smiled and grabbed the phone..! I continued with my coffee, checked the time and was grateful that everything was packed, payed for and all I had to do was have breakfast then return my key.

I would say another ten minutes passed and still no sign of my breakfast. It was at this point I had to make the decision, for go breakfast or maybe miss my only train today to New Delhi…An easy decision, I had to make the train. I called the Waiter over thanked him for his efforts and explained I had to leave as my Taxi was waiting. I got up from my seat, and headed for the door. I had been defeated. We could blame the culture, the system, lack of communication, even a myriad of other things or excuses. But the truth was I had been beaten by two fried eggs..! I walked out of the restaurant not proud and full of bearing like Genghis Khan but more like a faltering Mr Bean..!

Internet cafes and barbers shops.

I’m sure each traveler has their own ideas on how to get about, where they like to stay and all the other minutia of holidays or expeditions. For me I travel light. I also have no agenda, I like to keep things flexible. There are two things I am a great advocator for and those are ‘Take loads of photos and record your feelings while they are fresh.’ to facilitate this I had a Great Camera, and assorted lenses, and my plan was to write a daily blog, time permitting.

The photo taking bit was easy as India is such an engaging location. Just look anywhere and there is something photo worthy. The Blogging bit was a little more complicated. I had an iPad but the key board was not great for long time use. Perfectly adequate for Emails and the like. But horrendous for lengthy sessions. A solution had to be found, so I inquired about the location of the nearest internet cafe. This was just a short Tuk Tuk ride away called ‘Net Play Net (Cyber Cafe) Internet solutions.’

When I arrived the place was closed, but none the less I walked up to the shop hoping to see a sign with the opening times on. As I got closer and started looking around I was approached by a gentleman who inquired what I needed. “I was hoping to use a computer today if it’s possible?” I asked “OK” said the gentleman and pulled out a key and opened up the shop..!

The Cyber Cafe had six computers and two printers all running ancient windows programs. I personally am a Mac Man. So it took me a while to re familiarise myself with Windows. But hey winners find a way..! An hour or so in to my windows refresher session the gentle man return and asked if everything was ok…? “Any chance of a Coffee?” I asked “Just a moment” he replied. He turned from the door and called a young child over then spoke swiftly in Hindi, and the child ran off. I returned to my typing. Just a few paragraphs later and the child returned with a nice milky coffee. I offered to pay but my gesture was politely refused. A good half an hour later and I was done for the day. I booked another session for the next morning thanked my new friend and was on my way.

The following day, Ten O’clock spot on and the shutters to the cyber cafe were going up. I took the same seat as the day before. Asked politely for a coffee and began typing. One coffee and two hours later and I had covered my self in sufficient glory at this keyboard. Time to pack up. I had one more task for the morning and that was to get a hair cut. Once I had secured the computer and packed my stuff up I asked the Internet cafe owner if he knew of a good Barber. ” Yes my brother is a good barber, you need hair cut.. shave? He will do for you..!”

So there I was following this guy down the darkened alleyways of Gwalior City. A couple of turns here and there and here we were at his brothers shop. And yes it was a fully fledged barbers shop complete with five waiting customers and a boy sat in the chair with half his head shaved..!

What happened next happened even against my protestations..! The young lad was hoofed out of the chair I’m ushered in and within seconds I’m getting the full monty. A hot wet shave, a hair cut and scalp massage. I felt for the poor lad and the guys to whom I had queue jumped. But they were all laughing and fooling around and didn’t seem to mind. Once I felt squeaky clean and presentable again I asked the Cyber Cafe guy what I owed for two days internet, coffees, shave and a hair cut. His reply was 210 rupees or £2.00. That two pounds would not have covered the tip I’d pay when shown the wonderful level of hospitality shown by these amazing people If I were in the UK. These people are truly fantastic and so generous in thoughts and actions. It was with a glad heart that I returned to the hotel.

Gwalior Fort, a full day out.

Well as I’m staying in Gwalior it would have been incredibly rude of me not to go visit this local jewel that is Gwalior Fort. And a jewel it is. Its existence goes back to the sixth century and it is the location of the first record of the figure Zero as a number. If your within a short Camel ride from Gwalior then the Fort is a must. But you will need to plan a little. Just the simple things like a Hat, Water, Change to pay for entry. You will need to get a taxi to the fort. As the walk up to the Fort gate will drain any joy that you may have once you’re in..! Now about the journey to the fort.. This is an experience in its self. I would have payed good money just for the trip up the hill. What we have is a single lane road built for oxcarts that’s now being used for cars scooters and yes fifty two seater coaches. The madness that is on that road is very hard to describe…! But here goes..!

OK… We have a small road that’s built for single lane traffic with two way traffic on it, either side of the road is a sometimes shallow sometimes deep drainage ditch. You have nose to tail traffic both ways all hanging on to what little space they can, sometimes in the ditch sometimes on the road….! Now add to the vehicles people of all ages carrying all manner of things up and down the road, hundreds of scooters heading both ways. And finally my favourites Cows, Buffalo and a huge petting zoo. The noise on the road is indescribable, Indian drivers have a clutch, brake, accelerator and the most important accessory in their vehicle “a loud horn.” No self respecting driver in India would think of making a turn or manoeuvre without sounding his horn…, he will sound it even when stationary…or if he’s bored…! Another accessory that most Indian drivers have, is a Mobil, or Handy. Now this device is held against the head by the left shoulder. Ensuring that the drivers head is tilted permanently to the left….Just adding to the crazy mix that is Indian traffic.

To the casual observer like my good self, one might ask with all this carnage where is the organisation. Well come on…..India is the Fifth largest economy in the world, of course it has a Police Force. And yes they were present. They are very much like the Fairy on your Christmas Tree.  Looks great up there, but does not do much. The traffic just ignores them, driving around them as if they didn’t exist. While enjoying your white knuckle ride up to the fort, do try and take a moment to look left as you get half way up the hill. And enjoy the beautiful Red Sandstone carvings of Bagwahn Adinatha, and the other stunning carvings.

Once at the top of the road you have to leave the taxi and continue on foot for a short walk to the ticket area. On entry there is a two tier pricing system similar to Thai temples.… Again don’t bitch about it, your entry fee is 250 rupees. A whole £3.03, to get into the Tower of London it would cost you £79.95 so get over it, move on…and remember you’re here to enjoy yourself..!

On the approach to the ticket area the huge fort unfolds itself in front of you. On your right is a museum, lots of its exhibits are outside and are free to see and walk around, though it’s frowned upon to touch them. The museum itself is worth popping in, the cost is a minimal 15 rupees, and the management have banned cameras. Though nobody really cared if you were discreet. Oh…and it is air conditioned.

As you continue past the museum a quite large area unfolds itself to the right of the Fort. This is the ticket area, no special treatment for foreigners here, you will have to queue with everyone else. As with most tourist areas that you visit in India there will be touts offering guiding services, ticket purchasing for you….! Don’t deal with them, it just makes the situation worse for people following you days later…! Your tickets won’t arrive, or your guide will disappear into the crowd once you stump up his fee…..! Queue like a nice person, and when you get your ticket ask for an official guide if you feel you need one. Headset guides in many languages are available too, though I’m not sure of the cost.

What makes Gwalior Fort Worth ever penny of your £3.03..? It has to be that the Moguls lived here, sort of like the Kings and their wives of the vast area. And these guys loved their opulence. Take your time to look at the features carved in every nook and crevice. Some of God’s, some of battle scenes. And to the keen eye even the erotic carvings normally seen at Khajuraho in Madhya Pradesh or the Sun Temple in Konark. The ticket you get lets you into four areas of the fort, which is cool, some extra areas will cost you a little more, again it’s just pennies. Go with an open mind and just soak up the culture. One place that is a must though does involve a bit of a walk is the Sihk Temple, this is a must see place. At sunset if you can make it…!

As you come out of the fort to the area where you got out of your taxi on arrival you will see two roads the one heading down the hill and one heading off to the right. Take the right fork. A ten minute stroll will bring you to the Sikh Temple. Before going in take a stroll around the Temple and get a feel for the place, it is unlike the fort. Once you’re happy with the transition of cultures it’s time to go in. Firstly you must surrender your shoes and socks, you can do this as a group for a single tag. Having completed the shoe thing, it’s time to wash your hands as you have just been touching your shoes. Opposite the shoe area is a place to do this. To the right of the sinks is a couple of guys who will give you an Orange head covering. All people male or female must cover their heads before entering the temple. this wonderful temple called Gurdwara Data Bandi Chorh Sahib, situated in Gwalior Fort, is associated with the imprisonment of Guru Har Gobind Sahib at the Man Mandir Palace of Gwalior Fort and his celebrated release in which he managed to win the freedom of 52 Rajas (Kings) who had long suffered imprisonment in the Fort. The word “Bandi” means “imprisoned”, “Chhor” means “release”. This earned for the Guru the epithet Data Bandi Chhor. In the beginning a small shrine bearing the name was built in the fort. The Gurudwara was constructed in 1970. Made up of marble and colourful stained glass exteriors, it is one of the significant Sikh pilgrimage sites. Towering at 6 storeys, it spreads over an area of six acres. The original Shrine in the form of a marbled platform is still maintained near the entrance. The beautiful white building and the serene and calm atmosphere of the place is spiritually uplifting for all who visit.

As you now approach the temple you will proceed through a foot bath, do take care as it’s very slippy, carpeted areas are there but it’s still as slippy as a slippy thing. On entering the Sikh Temple please show reverence…people will be conducting their prayers and a Sikh priest will be in the shrine conducting the service. Photography is permitted inside but be careful who you stand in front of to get that fantastic shot. It’s customary to walk around the shrine clockwise. There are places to make monetary offering if you choose.

On leaving the shrine, take care on the wet steps and in the foot bath, go collect your shoes and prepare for your homeward leg. The down hill journey in a taxi in the dark…! Deep joy…! To describe the down hill journey with our Taxi driver I would place it akin to a county fair ghost train ride. Your zooming down the track, you get to see very little, and crazy objects and body shapes come screaming at you out of the dark that you just miss. With the added danger of plunging over the edge to a several thousand foot plunge to certain death. Just a normal night taxi journey in Gwalior.

The train journey to Agra and the Taj Mahal.

As I mentioned before getting around India for her masses is mainly achieved by rail. It is planned, then booked, then confirmed. Then the journey undertaken. Sounds so easy. Well I suppose that if you have grown up with the system, understand its little foibles then the process could be painless. There are even agencies that will for a small commission book your train journey for you, as will most hotels. You may if you wish dive into India Rails Booking website, but you would be a braver man than I Gungadin.

One thing that you must factor in to any rail journey is that at some point your train will be late, delayed or cancelled. You will have no control over any of this, and it can happen at a moments notice. Our train to Agra should have left at 08:10. Several hours late it finally arrived. So our intrepid party boarded the coach, found our allotted seats and settled down for our two hour trip. The train was called the Dakshin Express. And though it has a nice diesel electric engine. The carriages were quite old rolling stock.

By the time we had reached Agra a further several hours late. I was of a mind to Email The Commisoner of India Rail to petition him to have the word Express removed from the trains name. Our journey was very un-express like. It would appear that once you are late it becomes incumbent upon the train driver to then slow down as give way to any other rolling stock on the line. Making the train later and later as the journey progresses. I must admit I have never been one for health and safety. But I do know a few of the H and S brigade, and I must say that they would have a field day on any normal train journey in India. For most of the trip carriage doors were wide open with people hanging outside the train. Our stops were long and often, and as soon as the train stopped, out and all over the line would pour the passengers off the train, walking and taking in the air as if on a Sunday stroll. Some passengers would engage in berry collecting from the embankments. Only returning to the train as it started to roll forward. Or signalled by the whistle. I must admit I too engaged in an off the train stroll and photo session during several of our stops. The main reason the train stopped was to let a faster trains go screaming by. The approach of these super fast juggernauts was hailed by a blast on our trains whistle, mirrored by one from the oncoming train. And in a blink of an eye passengers were safely onboard and off we would set again until the next stop.

Though our train did not have a restaurant car, what was available instead was all manner of food and beverages being hawked by Chai Wallahs, or fellas selling Chicken Masala, Cakes and all manner of sweet meats as they walked the length of the train at regular intervals. What made the long journey bearable and the time to seem to fly bye I’m sure was the amiable company of our group. Who were a joy to travel with.

The Taj Mahal.. and its beauty.

Once you appreciate that I’ve never held a real job, just been immersed in the military life since childhood. And that in the era that I grew up in beauty was measured by how fine the breasts were on page Three of the Sun Newspaper, you may be shocked to know that I found the Taj Mahal truly beautiful, with craftsmanship of the highest order.

As a testement to a mans love to a woman. The Great Shah Jahan love for Mumtaz Mahal means that the bar has been set so high…. Diamonds just ain’t going to cut it any more. He erected 73 meters of ivory white marble, at a cost today of beyond $827 million. It’s been described by a finer pen than mine as a teardrop on the cheek of time. And I feel that is its best description.

As a westerner, you will arrive at Agra by train or by coach. If by train you will need to haggle for a taxi ride for the seven km journey to the Taj. Good luck with that… My advice is stay strong have your price and stick to it. No more than 250 rupees. If you are arriving by coach, it’s a doddle. You get out right there. As you approach the entrance which is a short walk to the ticket area, you will be unendated by touts and sudo guides. Ignore them all. I’ll repeat that.. Ignore them all. At the ticket area there are several ticket windows and huge queues. Go to the first window on the left, don’t join the queue. Walk in from the left and go to the front. Why this window you may ask, well it’s easy, the folks queueing are paying 15 rupees. You dear foreigner will be paying 1000 rupees. For this 1000 rupees you will get a ticket for entry, a cold bottle of water, a set of shoe covers an electric car ride to and from the Taj, and the all important guide who will get you passed the masses. There is no alternative to this. It is just the way at most temples, palaces, zoo’s any place you visit in India really. It’s the same in Thailand. There is a “Foreigner” price and local price, don’t complain you will just come over as a winging tourist just suck it up and enjoy the fantastic place..!

Once you have been given your guide just follow his instructions to gain entry, you won’t have to wait in line, well maybe just behind another western group. But not the thousands visiting the Taj Mahal. I’m not going to give you a blow by blow description of the Taj Mahal, but I will post a few words. It would be remiss of me if I failed to do so. It is the most stunning token of affection I have ever seen, it puts flowers in the shade. I’ll never look at a diamond ring on a females finger in the same way again. It is said that beauty should be measured by how many boats a face can launch, thank Helen of Troy for that one. If that is so. Then the measure of true affection must be using the Taj Mahal as the yard stick. That a man would have 20,000 artisans work for 22 years on the token of his love is almost beyond belief until you see it. If you’re a builder, or consider yourself a craftsman. This is a place you should go and visit. You will then maybe get a true meaning of the word “Craftsman..” When you see the beautiful hand carved matching stone frescoes. The seamless joins in worked stone, the fantastic multicoloured stone inlays….You may look at the flagstones or bathroom tiling on your next job in a whole new light.

If only a major effort was made to clean the place up India would be stunning..!

India’s amazing traffic system..!

No one going on their Hollybobs, or on Business to India can get anywhere without experiencing Indian traffic at its most chaotic. You only need to take a taxi to your hotel from the station or airport for you to have things burned into your memory that nothing will shake free or replace… Or ever erase..! What ever can this man mean I hear you ask from the safety of your comfy armchair. Well let me begin by telling you of some of the things I have seen on the road during what could be deemed Rush Hour, rush hour being any time from 04:00 until 23:59..!

Imagine if you will Streets lined with no pavements yet Double Parked vehicles, not neat western style tidily parked automobiles. Non of that in India. I mean lined with abandoned motor cycles, hemmed in by cars locked in place by Tuk Tuk’s. Now add to the mix rush hour traffic, made up of all manner of vehicles. Most that would fail any sort of MOT test, held together by string, tape or the gallons of paint covering them..! Now all the vehicles that are not parked have one purpose. That purpose is to move forward in to any gap no matter how small, while sounding the horn as long and as loud as possible. Any gap that is not immediately exploited will be filled by a scooter with maybe four or five people on it.. If the scooter was too slow then the pedestrians will flock into the gap on their way to the sanctuary of the farther side of the road. Now into this melting pot we must add the animals. I shall start small and work up if I may, well there were your regular Cats and Dogs…the cats were of two varieties the swift and bold that cleared the screaming cars and lorries with ease. One might say wise, fleet of foot, knowledgable felines. Oh… then there was the other variety….the flat sort. Normally with a tyre track the full length of their bodies. These were the less nimble, or worldly wise where traffics concerned…and so had payed the ultimate price.

As for dogs they too had many varieties, the clothed and the unclothed, there were the single purposeful beast set on a mission, he or she was normally fast and cleared the roads with no drama. Causing minimum disruption to the traffic. Then there was the mob…leaderless but a group non the less..! Swerving Helter Skelter here and there through the throng of traffic, causing madness and mayhem all around them. Another type of dog, and for some reason they appeared to be the larger fatter canines, were the “I don’t give a shit variety..!” The I’m going to lay down here and not move, nor do I care how long and hard you blast your horn…or how close you drive up to me..! I suppose next up in scale would have to be Goats…in ones, two’s, twenty’s even hundreds. But with a leader who knew where he was going. The leader may be a fellow goat with a bell around its neck, or a small child with a huge stick. But the Circus of goats meandered the streets causing blockage upon blockage to the traffic. Fairly large wild boars just wander helping themselves to anything left slightly unattended. These animals are so huge no unarmed individual would confront one.

Donkey’s and the Small Wild Horses I suppose come next. Freely roaming the streets not a care in the world and fearless of traffic. Pausing here and there to investigate the contents of a public waste bin or browse on anything green they may find.

Indian roads just would not be the same without Cattle. The cow is a sacred animal in India and as such may wander where it chooses. Or sleep for that matter. And they do with regular chaos ensuing mayhem. They cause this mayhem singularly or in teams.. But the effect is the same, normally gridlock. Driving at speed at night and bumping into a huge Cow, with or without horns can be catastrophic for your car you and the Beast..! Which is why major cities have Cow Ambulances.

The strangest critters I had the pleasure of seeing roaming the roads of Gwalior had to be the mother and daughter Camels. They were happily jogging along in that comical gait they have, and I must assume they knew their destination also as they negotiated the central town roundabout like seasoned professionals. And because of their handy turn of speed hardly delayed the flow of traffic at all. I do suppose I could tail off this session today with a few of the funny things that caught my eye, the Goat wearing a mans shirt, the fully dressed marching band, though they were scattered and no longer instep or holding a semblance of a tune. Two huge Peacock resplendent in their dashing colour complete with long tails, retaining them for how long I would not like to hazard a guess.

Then there is the so dangerous you can only laugh things. Motor cycles at night driving on the wrong side of the road with no lights and three generations of the family onboard. Fully Armed civilians cruising the streets. Cars coming over humpback bridges on the wrong side of the road then continuing past us on the inside. Children driving big motor bikes. Pony and traps three abreast reenacting Ben Hur…! Cars broken down in the middle of the road being fixed in the middle of the road, no lights and not a traffic cone in sight. I suppose the closest visual aid I may have to share with the reader who has never been or witnessed the the joy that is Indian roads is the great 70’s cartoon “Whacky Races..!” Get it on your bucket list guys, it’s a lifetime experience never to be missed!

A Day out In Jhansi in Uttar Pradesh.

Jhansi Fort is 103km from Gwalior but what a beautiful historic part of India to visit. I have covered train travel before on here so I’ll not trample over old ground. All I will say is the train journey was interesting and late. But we got to Jhansi Train Station safe and sound. The fort and temples at Orachha are a fifteen minute taxi drive from the Train Station, you have to take a taxi as there is no bus link. So after some judicious haggling by my Indian Guides a fair price was secured for our passage to the Fort. What I have realised over my time in India and with the taxi driver population in general. Is that it’s far better for me to be off to the side and inconspicuous during the negotiation phase..! Because if I’m there the price will be vastly inflated and almost impossible to bring back down to any semblance of normality.

The fort itself is a huge edifice, extending to a sprawling 15 acres (61,000 m²) and this colossal structure measures about 312m in length and 225m in width. On the whole, there are twenty-two supports with a mammoth strengthening wall surrounded by a moat on both sides. The shattered upholder on the eastern side was rebuilt by the British, who also added a floor to Panch Mahal. Every year in the month of January–February a grand occasion is held known as Jhansi Mahotsav when many eminent personalities and artists perform their plays and such. All around there is much to see and lots of historical points, including massive cannon, and even a point on one of the ramparts where a Princess leaped to freedom on her horse carrying her child… The things some people do to avoid the British Army..!

Having been spoilt by seeing Gwalior Fort first I have to say that Jhansi Fort was built with the idea of form and function over beauty and style. In Gwalior each doorway was superbly engraved with a level of skill warrenting the royalty that resided there. In Jhansi the fort was way more a military bastion and a show of strength than a place of wonder and beauty, as its twenty meter thick walls hold testament too.

As I have traveled around India taking in the beauty and basking in the wonderful culture. One thing has effected me like being stung by a wasp each day…! Let me clarify what I mean. Anyone who has been stung by a wasp knows that at the moment of being stung there is intense pain followed for the whole day with a gnawing nagging throbbing pain the rest of the day..! And what is it that brings me this major discomfort..? It’s got to be the litter..! It’s everywhere, blowing around, being walked over and amongst by everyone. And just about everyone in India will just drop their litter rather than put it in any receptical, or even think about taking it away to dispose of later. Seeing this each day pain’s me. I have seen people stood next to a rubbish bin still abandon their rubbish on the floor, and Indians older generation I must say do nothing to teach or guide the youth. But as you walk around India there are posters and signs asking you the public to keep India clean. There is even on the rupee notes a little logo advocating a tidy India. Though sadly everyone in India just ignores this massive problem.

Now the reason I’m bringing up this issue is that India could be so much better and tidier…! And while pondering this dilemma while traveling in a General Classe train carriage who’s floor was hardly visible under peanut shells and rubbish. I was thinking that as I had just payed 1000 rupees to enter a monument while a local had paid 30 rupees, what was done with the extra 970 rupees..? Now if I were in charge, I’m sure that I could quite happily employ five unskilled chaps to walk the grounds clearing the litter and educating the public on not dropping litter, for less than the extra 970 rupees. Now if every monument were to use just one foreign tourist’s payment to employ cleaner uppers each day. Then the monuments would appear much cleaner.. And maybe the word would get out and spread..! And with luck the litter issue would not be that throbbing pain each day…!

What made my stay in India.

Even before I had left for India I had friends and family questioning my sanity. “Why on earth would you wish to leave Bangkok and travel to India..?” Was often the question. Well there was no real answer other than I had always wanted to see Incredible India. I had briefly visited Sri Lanka, just after it changed from Ceylon. And the place intrigued me and gave me a thirst for more. How I wanted to see India was not from a window of an Air conditioned Coach but from the perspective of a local. To achieve this it meant traveling like a local, trains, taxis and local buses were my transport of choice. By using local transport it meant that I would interact with the Indian population far more than if I was on an organised tour. My Indian adventure would have been a total nonstarter if it were not for Priti, Rajesh, Sunil and their Family who were such amazing host’s. The level of care and generosity shown to me by these great people I feel I will never to be able to fully repay. What really helped with my adventure was not having an agenda or plan, which may to the casual observer seem like utter madness. But with no plan or preconceived agenda it’s hard to be disappointed, or even angered by delays. Take my first day for example, a nine hour delay…! Was I angered or frustrated..? No, I just used the time to engage with my fellow travellers. Thus enriching my experience. A couple of things that made my travels easier were not to difficult to get sorted before and during my trip. My greatest asset had to be my diligent home work and hours spent on Google. This gave me an advanced understanding of basic cultural habits, things like how to behave on being invited into a home. How to address heads of families..! Knowledge of these basic things really help make my trip easier and less uncomfortable and embarrassing for me.

Trip advisor was also a great help, especially swatting up on venues before getting there. A full heads up is a huge benefit, but as with many things involving public writings, some comments must be taken with a pinch of salt. Another thing that was a real help was getting a Indian Sim Card for my phone. Though offering 4G coverage the package I had was good, but in some areas nonexistent and “no service” popped up on my phone screen perhaps more often than I’d like. When I was in a built up area coverage was certainly adequate, so perhaps I shouldn’t moan..!

My greatest asset I must say was Priti, my charming hostess and her fantastic family. Taking me to the amazing places that make their part of India wonderful and even escorting me farther taking in Agra and the Taj Mahal. The most charming thing I encountered in India has to be its people. No matter where I went I was treated fantastically by all who I encountered. Be that in a station, on a trail, in a Shopping Mall, everywhere people would quite happily approach me and engage me in polite conversation. They would be interested in where I’d come from, what I was doing or planing to do or visit, was I happy in India, and enjoying myself. Offering any and all manner of assistance should I need it. A truly wonderful people. And for some odd reason they loved taking selfies with me…!

Indias culinary delights.

If it walk, crawls, jumps, swims, flys or shows its arse to the sun then I will eat it. I have delighted in eating thing that others shy away from. But for no other reason than if you turn that offering away because of what it looks like or perhaps it’s an unusual body part. You will never know if what you passed on was a culinary delight or not. If it wasn’t, heck at least you gave it a go. And years later in the Pub for example when Eric from the chippy say’s Puppy tastes like chicken. You can hold you head up high and tell him it does not.  You can declare “It’s a red meat, quite fatty, and extremely fragrant. Like a cross between beef and mutton, with a lovely meaty flavouring. 

So as an intrepid carnivore wandering the Indian subcontinent how was I going to fare…? My needs are simple three square meals a day and loads of coffee. However here in India I’m in a country of 275,000,000 people of which just under half are vegetarian. So we adapt..! I wasn’t sure how but the general population of India look great on their diet. So who am I to moan.

Getting to Gwalior, my meals on the flight and trains were pre packed and rather nice. My pizza at New Delhi was ok too. I suppose the first hick up was at the Hotel. My breakfast was alfresco dining up on the roof. Once seated, the boy arrived to take my order. A youngish lad of about eleven. With a fairly decent command of English. Pleasantries were exchanged. Yes I was from England, the City of Manchester of course I supported United. I’m sure you get the picture. Pleasantries done food order time. “What would you like..?” he inquired. “Poached eggs on toast please, with a milky coffee.” After a short pause of but a few minutes breakfast arrived. Two rounds of toast, butter for only one and no eggs. The coffee was fine though. Somewhere between the roof and the kitchen several floors below the poached eggs had got lost. Next time perhaps I’ll have the lad write it down.

The hotel I was staying in had an in house menu with about ten Indian dishes to select from. On my second evening I was feeling a little peckish so I thought I would give the menu a go. The process of ordering was painless dial 0 for reception then place your order, half an hour later it appears at your room..! So a nice half chicken curry was booked and a flask of coffee. The food arrived spot on time and I must say was fantastic. The meat was falling off the bone and the flavours were awesome. There was a side order of spiced potatoes that set everything off perfectly. Perhaps this carnivore wouldn’t starve after all.

Something Asia and India are well known for has to be the outstanding street food. Thailands I’ll cover at some later date. For now is Indias turn. Indian street food dishes consist of simple, easy-to-make dishes. Normally served from a wagon or cart, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t be fantastically wholesome and explode releasing an array of rich, exotic flavours in your mouth leaving you wanting to try more. India is like a giant, sweet shop and the only exit is to eat your way out.

Some of my favourite dishes were first sampled in India, by the side of the road. My mantra of you have to at least try it payed off dividends in India. For example Panipuri is one of the most popular street foods on the Indian subcontinent. It consists of round flatbreads (called puri) stuffed with a mix of chickpeas, onions, potatoes, chutney, chaat masala, and soupy water (pani). The bread arrives as half a dozen hollow balls. With the bread is the chickpea onion mix and a small container of the soup. How you eat this is in itself an art.

Indian people would never consider eating with both hands or even the left hand. It’s just a no no..! First, always remember to wash your hands thoroughly. This is obvious, but crucial. Using your right hand (don’t try touching the plate with your left hand), scoop the food onto flatbread (naan, roti or chapati). Using your fingertips, bring the food to your mouth. Things to remember: don’t bring the plate to your mouth — lower your head instead — take small amounts of food each time, make sure the food does not touch your palms and don’t put your fingers into your mouth. The secret? Use your thumbs to push the food inside.

Well, now eating etiquette is understood this brings us back to the Panipuri. Using the right hand only select a bread ball. Using the tip of your thumb poke a hole in the top, keeping the bread in your fingers scoop up some chickpea onion mix into the hole now pour in some soup. Quickly pop it into your mouth before the soup melts the bread and your wearing the meal on your shoes.

Samosa is found the world over, and is know to be one of the oldest snacks in the world. The pastry is stuffed with spiced potatoes, onions, peas, and lentils, and it comes in different shapes; triangular, half-moon, and cone, depending on the region. Tasty and very filling all in one packet. and can be found on any street corner.

Up there with Samosa is Aloo Tikki. Potato pieces combined with tamarind, coriander, and chutney. These fantastic bite size treats are a taste sensation. Imagine potato McNuggets with an awesome flavour.

Ghugni Chaat is originally from West Bengal but is now found all over India. it’s served hot is full of flavour and is like Indian comfort food. My only criticism is they serve it in too small a dish. Though I must admit I have been know to go back like Oliver Twist and ask for a second helping..!

We have in the UK a treat called Quavers. Similar to a bag of Crisps though also made from potatoes they don’t resemble crisps. They are more like inch long curved yellowish treats full of flavoured bubbles. So imagine my surprise wandering down a side street of Gwalior to be confronted with a huge two foot round Quaver..! When you purchase it you get the whole thing served on a sliver of the local news paper..! Eating it is definitely a team event. Though it was rather nice..!

Not wanting to make this into a top thirty street foods Chesty likes, I do feel I should offer a few guidelines. Never be afraid of Indian street food. No matter where you eat there is a chance of getting a bad tummy or encountering something unhygienic this has been known to happen in famous restaurants too. My advice would be go where the locals are if there is a long queue at a particular vendor then that tells me his food is safe to eat and probably delicious. Always be wary of street food and drink that aren’t hot. If in doubt just ask them to re do it. Also I would steer away from Ice too, as most is made from tap water. Cans and bottles of water you should open yourself so you know that they were factory sealed, not refilled. Which reminds me of an incident in Cambodia with my buddy Barry. We were having a lunch time beer in a bar shooting the breeze when something caught Barry’s attention. He signalled me to take look along the bar to a door way half opened revealing a sweet old lady refilling bottled water containers from a hose and popping the lids back on them for resale over the bar or in the street. The Only Fools and Horses Peckem Spring Water episode sprang to mind.

I cannot terminate this food section without two honoured mentions. As a chap that rates good coffee up there with the elixir of life, I have to mention the best coffee truck in Gwalior. It is situated opposite the Hotel City Palace Gwalior, up near the roundabout in the lay-by and he is there only after sunset. What set this gentle man apart from other Java sellers was his engaging smile and thoughtful question when I ordered my coffee. “Sir..How would you like your coffee..?” It took me just a brief second or two to convey my desired beverage. And in a moment my piping hot coffee arrive, exactly to my specifications. At the princely sum of £0.08

The other culinary shout out goes to a Father and Son team they work the same lay-by. Though they have a food stall. As I wandered the lay-by looking at all the different manner of foods my bewilderment must have been obvious, as a very pleasant lady with a child approached me and asked what sort of food did I want. I explained I had no idea as it was all new to me. This kind lady ushered me to the father and Son duo. She spoke swiftly in Hindi to the father. Then said to me ” This guy will look after you.” She and her child then slipped off into the throng of people filling the Lay-by.

“What would you like? ” asked my new host. ” I have no idea what anything is, or if it’s too hot or spicy.” was my reply. The two guys then proceed to prepare samples of about six different dishes for me to try. Each was delicious in its own way, varying in flavour and piquant. As nice as those samples were, I needed to fuel the engine, so I decided on some potatoes fritters with a wonderful spicy green sauce and gravy. A feast fit for a king and a snip at £0.13.

Traveling and Education.

The journey is never ending. There is always going to be growth, learning, improvement. You must continue to grow. Learn to live in and love the moment. Focus on the journey not the destination.  Yoda said “On many long journeys have I gone. And waited, too, for others to return from journeys of their own. Some return; some are broken; some come back so different only their names remain.” Travel does many things too many people. Some people love it some hate it. One only has to look around an Airport to see what travel does to people.

I personally enjoy traveling. I thrive on seeing new things and places. I enjoy the arts and sciences. I remember as a small kid being taken on a school trip to the Science Museum in London. What a place, I could have walked those hall’s for days. Soaking in the history, the knowledge the shear magnificence of it all. Though the trip was as long as our teachers dare allow, sadly they had to round us up and get us back home before the street lights came on..!

Well, imagine my delight when Rajesh asked if I would like to visit The Jaipur Observatory Built in 1728 and the largest in India. The Jantar Mantar, Jaipur is a collection of 19 astronomical instruments built by the Rajput king Sawai Jai Singh II, the founder of Jaipur, Rajasthan. Each individual instrument is a wonder in its self. The monument features instruments operating in each of the three main classical celestial coordinate systems: the horizon-zenith local system, the equatorial system, and the ecliptic system.  The Kanmala Yantraprakara is one that works in two systems and allows transformation of the coordinates directly from one system to the other. It has the biggest sundial in the world.

I have to be honest. I was totally blown away by the Grounds of the Observatory and the huge skilful displays of real science. Science that you can touch, walk in and amongst. See it working as you stand next to it. A place well worth a visit.

My love of knowledge is not restricted to Astronomy or say the formal sciences of Logic and Mathematics. I find social sciences interesting. Natural sciences are engaging too. But the things that intrigue me the most are the challenges to the norm.

Take Ethology  the study of animal behaviour. It is a discipline with long traditions and one of few non-medicine biological disciplines that have generated Nobel prizes. Many an hour I have sat in front of the TV soaking up the animal programs, gleaning a tit bit of information here, a new understanding there.

Now to be honest I do feel that we definitely don’t yet know everything. But there has been one animal trait that was sold to me from a very early age. That being animals fear of fire. Yes I understand animals can be trained to leap through burning hoops. and even mans best friend will lay down near a camp fire to sleep. But wave a burning branch at any regular animal and they will generally be off like a shot.

Well on mine and Rajesh’s return towards the Station for our trip home we had a little time to kill, so as we walked past a temple we decided to grab a photo or two. On entering the grounds just on the right was a table were candles could be lit as offerings to family members or the deceased. Near to it were some young monkeys. But sat on it was an older leader.

In Kiplings book Mowgli, and the Walt Disneys movie there is a wonderful scene of King Louie the leader of the Apes singing about wanting Mans Red Fire. And once having it he would be like Man. So imagine my surprise when I noticed that the older monkey on the table was actually warming himself with the burning candles. You could say it was a one off , that the monkey just happened onto the burning candles. But what happened next was against all I had been taught about animals and fire. In his hand the monkey had collected from the floor and surrounding area candle stubs. And he proceeded to stoke the fire with these candles. It was an awesome experience to witness. One I’m grateful that I had a camera for. As I’m sure were this just a tale in a pub no one would believe me.

My return to Bangkok.

Having pre purchased my entry visa into Thailand before I left, I expected a simple and swift return to Bangkok. But yet again India Railways stepped up to make my return trip more interesting. I Google checked my train number for the ticket I purchased over a week before my journey. This informed me my train, for what reason I will never know having been totally canceled. So a quick trip to the booking agent, and the securing and filling in of two correct forms. One to cancel the first ticket and the other to facilitate the procurement of my new ticket. The booking agents shack was down a side road and in a what appeared to be a derelict building, if you did not know it was there then you would just walk right passed it. And with most things in India there was no organisation just a maul of people trying to get or change tickets. The most amusing thing about the whole process was a total lack of pens in a situation where filling forms was paramount to the whole operation…! Well in a good Boy Scout manner I always travel prepared, fresh socks, tooth brush, condoms and a pen always travel with me… And now my faithful and trusty pen now resides in Gwalior railway booking office..! Much to the joy of everyone behind me who arrives there to change their tickets.

As the days disappeared as I got closer to my return trip, so did available seats to New Delhi. The only bookable seat I could get got me into New Delhi a whole day before my flight. Way better to be early than to miss my flight. So with my new ticket I waited in the early morning light on platform two of Gwalior Train Station. Another Google check informed my that my train would be an hour and a half late. A bad thing..? I think not because it gave my beautiful hostess and her brother the time they needed to bid me a personal farewell. And for this I was truly touched. Words fail me to describe the true generosity that these two beautiful people and their family had shown me….and I shall forever be grateful.

Once we had said our final, final farewells I boarded my carriage on the train. A check of my ticket and in a mere moment I was in my bunk area. A fresh pillow, sheet and blanket waiting for me. Once I had made my bunk, the Chai Wallah was there asking if I needed tea. When I replied I would much prefer a Coffee he just smiled never said a word and just disappeared. So cursing my lack of Hindi I settled down, ready for a long Coffee-less eight hour trip to Delhi. No sooner than I was comfortable and getting accustomed to the ever present clackaty clak of the motion of the train and the constant sway of the dividing curtain than the smiling Chai Wallah returned with a steaming cup of coffee. How he knew I take it “Julie Andrews” ( White Nun..!) I’ll never know. But it tasted fantastic. Once my coffee fix had been sated I decided a snooze was in order on the rather hard bunk. Being the only occupied berth in my compartment, no snoring disturbed me and I like to think mine bugged no one too.

Totally unaware of the passage of time. Because if twenty four years in the military have taught me anything. Sleeping deeply anywhere would be up there as a top skill. I was only awoken by the return of the Chai Wallah. Would I like lunch, veg or non veg? I opted for the non veg, no idea what it might be but I asked for more Coffee too. I would just have to wait and see what arrived..! As my lunch arrived, so did the ticket collector. “Mr Gardner..?” was his only question. “Yes..” I replied. And in a blink of an eye he was gone. So it was now down to the Chai Wallah and I to work out what the non veg option was for lunch. I was given the Hindu name and all I picked up from it was Roti and Chutney. Roti is a small round portion of bread and Chutney is of course Chutney. The dish itself was rice and chicken, the Roti helped bulk it out. But the best bit of the whole meal I must declare was the Chutney. About the size of a desert spoon and a deep olive green in colour dripping in an unknown paste and oil. This Chutney made the meal..! The flavour was stunning, and so spicy you nibbled bits off it rather than bite it. Now if there are budding entrepreneurs out there looking for an idea..! Get out to India…source India Railways Chutney and import it to Europe. There is nothing in my extensive travels comes near to this chutney for taste and flavour anywhere in Europe. And Europe needs rescuing from bland Chutney.

Once I had eaten my fill and partaken of another Julie Andrews, I was taken by the passing landscape at times flying by my coach window and at others rumbling by at slower than a brisk walking pace. Though I do declare we never actually stopped, we got close a few times but the wheels did keep turning. With the duel help of googles train route plotter and google maps. I was able to fairly accurately predict my arrival in New Delhi. Though the big give away was the arrival of two railway laundry workers asking for my bed wear. Once it had been collected and spirited away I was left in my empty coach, me and four bare berths. Well they are just as hard to sit on as they are to sleep on, but roomy non the less.

My little area had four beds, then there was a separating curtain. The other side of which is the gangway and then two single seats above which is a bunk with a separate privacy curtain. My side of the train was a huge window two bunks one side, two the other. The other side of the train had a matching window but with a seat so you could look out the window in some comfort. Realising that we were just about to enter the municipal area of New Delhi I thought a seat change should be in order. So I stepped across the gangway and with a little flourish swept away the curtain and went to sit down. Promptly teaching every person in the whole of my carriage the only English swear word they will ever need to know. As I full on head butted the bed above the two seats. I managed this with the top centre of my head, I saw sparks, flashing lights, lightning, nuclear explosions all in about a half second. Shouting “Fuck..!” As I held on to the bunk to stop me from crumbling to the gangway floor.

It took several seconds to compose myself and several minutes to stop the flow of blood. But every day is a school day and I now know exactly how low you need to duck to get into the gangway seat without sustaining injury. We live and learn. Self administration of first aid completed, I settled down to enjoy the approach into Delhi. One observation I will put on here is that no matter how desolate or derelict a house in New Delhi may appear..! It always seems to have a satellite dish..!

I had now arrived at probably my favourite Train Station in the whole world. Nine hours waiting for a train, you can bond with a place in that time. This time was quite brief. All I had to do was get me and my trappings out of the station and over to the  underground station. Though it’s only a short walk you have to pass the hundreds of Tuk Tuk drivers touting for business outside the station.

I’m a great fan of entrepreneurial business, but one can sometimes have too much of a good thing. And outside New Delhi Train Station you may feel overpowered by the amount of people trying to claim you as their customer. I found that the best way to deal with the throng of touting taxi drivers was to just look at the underground sign and then head up and walk fast. Any eye contact with a driver or his mate, is like a written contract signed in blood. And is best avoided. The short walk to the underground with a suitcase on wheels is really a doddle. Just on a side note, did you know that we got a man on the moon before we put wheels on suitcases…! I don’t see that as progress.

The underground in Delhi is fantastic, air conditioned and spotless, regular as clockwork and on time. Oh and cheap as chips. It takes you directly into the Airport. So life for me on this part of my journey was easy, even my head had stopped throbbing too. On surfacing at the top of the escalator into the airport I sought out my checkin desk. A very sweet lady greeted me, but even my devilish charm could not get me an early checkin. I’d have to wait a whole day. Well we tried… Failed but tried. So what was I to do with myself until I could checkin..? Top priority in any situation like this is find a purveyor of good coffee. Secure said beverage and while enjoying the coffee equivalent of a “Hamlet” moment. Take stock of the situation and make a plan. Locating good coffee was not too much of a hassle, the problem was it was inside an area only accessible with a boarding pass, which as I had not checkin I did not possess. Stood guarding the entry to this area was a female airport police woman. Now was the time to turn on the charm and let my silver tongue work its magic. The most powerful weapon in any persons armoury after a puppy or kitten is a genuine smile, it’s almost impossible for someone not to smile back at you. So armed with my best smile I approached the police lady. Who nicely returned my smile, then promptly asked me for my boarding pass.

I declared that her colleague could not issue my boarding pass till tomorrow. And showed her my flight confirmation email on my phone. Then the sixty four million dollar question..! “Would it be possible for me to kill some time here and get a coffee..?” Still holding her smile she said yes… But if I was to go anywhere, would I please tell her. This I readily agreed too. Then gave her another huge smile and a sincere thank you. Then stepped on to hallowed ground, that first coffee tasted so good.

I have no idea how many international airports I’ve had to kill time in, but they range from  Anchorage Alaska, Cairo Egypt to Wellington New Zealand and parts in between. All which I found not to be user friendly. No carpeted areas, no power access, seats with arm rests, and nowhere to relax unless you pay through the nose. Well I have to admit New Delhi has got it nailed as a user friendly airport. Lots of carpeted areas for people to crash on, power ports everywhere, seats without armrests so the weary traveler can lay down and lots of sun lounger type beds for people to go to sleep on if they have a longer wait. Also shower areas that were not part of an executive lounge. Well Done New Delhi..!

Well after several coffees and sandwiches and a deep for-filling sleep on a sun lounger type bed it was suddenly an hour before booking in. Time to go the correct side of the airport and get ready to book in. So it was back to the police lady on the entry gate. The first thing that struck me was that she was still manning her post. As I approached her I gave her my most grateful smile. Which was returned beautifully. I then proceeded to graciously thank her for her understanding and asked if she had been there all night? She replied yes and she still had hours to go..! Well thanking her again I was on my way.

Booking in was simple, and I secured my extra leg room as normal. A short stroll and I was in the immigration queue. I still find it amazing that in the present security climate. People of all walks of life not just youthful backpacker’s are still trying to get sharp objects and liquids past immigration. If I was in charge I would have them fast tracked to the back of the queue to an area where they could sort there crap out without delaying those of us who can manage to get things correct the first time. What I still saw was people taking huge things on as hand luggage. I kid you not when I say single items larger than a regular suitcase being taken as hand luggage. It’s no wonder some flights are delayed, as oversized baggage gets diverted back down to the hold..!.

Take off, flight and the landing was seamless, the Trolly Dolly’s should be awarded honours for what they do and put up with, the lack of common curtesy not shown to these ladies truly shocked me. Had I been spoken to in that manner in my previous occupation as a hotelier I would have shown that customer the the street, sadly at thirty thousand feet you cannot launch someone out the door…! Maybe my curtsies and heartfelt thank you to the aircraft staff made up for the rudeness of others in some way.

On leaving the plane I find that a strong brisk walk to immigration then onward to baggage collection can save loads of time in queues later. When I arrive at immigration I know that I will get extra scrutiny and I just feel sorry for the people in the queue behind me. So a good five minutes stood at the immigration kiosk with people murmuring behind me was normal to me but aggravating for them. Eventually and as normal I will get cleared and waved on to go collect my bag. And as not unusual my bag had stickers all over it declaring it had been hand searched, nothing out of the norm there then. I’m quite used to this procedure now and see it as the norm for my travels. There are reasons for the extra scrutiny but that’s for perhaps another day…!

A brisk walk and up an escalator then I’m at the Bangkok rail link. £0.79 and a short twenty minutes trip and I’m home. A hot shower, air con, clean sheets and a fantastic nights sleep and everything’s fine with the world, I’m home. India I miss you already, don’t change too much.. I shall return.