India: Hyderabad

I got an IndiGo flight from Chennai to Hyderabad. When I arrived in Hyderabad, I once again didn’t have a hotel booked, but I intended to find one near the central train station. I was hounded by a tout who was trying to make me pay 1200 rupees for the taxi into town. I told him that was a ridiculous price. He said it was fair because it was 40km away. Now this is where Google Maps is awesome. I told him to wait one second while I did a directions search from Hyderabad airport to central station. Google helpfully pointed out it was only 26km away. I showed him, but he refused to look at the phone. Indians don’t seem to believe in technologies like GPS and Google Maps. They think it is some false voodoo magic.

I decided I wanted a Camarel McFlurry, since they don’t have these at Australian McDonalds (as far as I recall). Whilst I was enjoying what turned out to be a delicious McFlurry, the same tout sat next to me and continued to try and convince me to get in his taxi. I continued to say no, and when I finished my McFlurry, I walked away and started looking for other taxi drivers. I eventually found a guy willing to take me for 600 rupees, which is a good price. I’m almost certain he wasn’t a real licenced taxi driver, but I didn’t care – as long as he got me where I needed to go. 

On the way there he was stopped by traffic police. They got him to get out of a car and there were discussions. He came back 10 minutes later with a ticket of some sort. I asked him what it was for. He said it was for going through a red signal (the term they use for traffic lights). He hadn’t done that while I was in the car, so I think he was probably lying and it was for something else – perhaps being an unlicenced taxi driver.

Eventually I found a hotel near the central train station. As soon as I checked in I began the quest to find cricket tickets. I asked reception to help me – they were completely unhelpful as expected. A search on the internet revealed some retailers where I might be able to buy tickets. A few calls later and I found which place I needed to go to get tickets. By this time, it was too late, and I would have to go the next morning.

The next morning came (as it usually does) and I headed to the TVS motorbike shop, which apparantely sold IPL tickets as well. I got there pretty early, and they told me they weren’t selling tickets for another 2 hours. I got a taxi back to the hotel, sat in my room for a while, they got the taxi back there again. This time there were ticket sellers, and for 500 rupees ($10), I got my hands on a ticket for the Deccan Chargers vs Rajasthan Royals game.

I then decided it was time I ate something other than a curry, so with the power of the internet, I found myself the location of a Pizza Hut. There were a few options for getting there:

45 minute walk.

In 40+ degrees heat, no thanks.

Local train.

At only two rupees ($0.04) it was an absolute bargain, and would provide an authentic Indian experience. I bought the ticket. Now in Western cities the size of Hyderabad, you might wait 5 to 10 minutes at worst for a train. But not here. A train had just left and it was going to be 1.5 hours wait until the next train. Screw that. On any account, it would have been taken some sort of miracle to work out which train to catch.

Bus.

This would also be a cheap option, but it’s not like there are bus stops and route maps here. Screw that.

Tractor.

I could have probably hitched a ride on this tractor:

Taxi.

Or I could get a taxi for 100 rupees ($2). Which I did.

Anyway, I immensely enjoyed my Pizza Hut 3 course meal and was ready to begin exploring. My brief research led me to believe there was a lake and some nice parks to walk around, so I went there. What a magical experience. Although I do have a few minor constructive criticisms:

Parks are supposed to have grass.

Lakes look better when you don’t use them as rubbish dumps. 

If lakes were supposed to be rubbish dumps, they would be called rubbish dumps. This is why rubbish dumps are called rubbish dumps.

Putting up ‘Keep the City Clean and Green’ signs, does not on its own right, actually achieve that. 

This is evidenced by the mounds of rubbish a few feet from the sign. Sure they have these same signs in super clean cities like Singapore, but they also have bins, rubbish transport and land fill. Also, the sign implies that the current status of the city is clean and green. It’s not. It’s really not.

After I was done with the ‘park’, I walked to a nearby marble temple. You weren’t allowed to take a camera or mobile phone into the temple. Instead you had to leave it with a trustworthy Indian guy. Kids this is what we call an oxymoron. Screw that. It was lucky then, that the security guard agreed with my sentiments and let me take my valuables with me. I did the usual. Walked up to the top. Walked around. Got stared at for being white. Standard stuff.  

The next day I went for a walk into the heart of the city. I found a supermarket (food bazaar), so I went in to buy a drink and a snack. They don’t have signs above each isle, but they have an equally useful system for finding what you want:

I purchased my foods and non-foods and went on my merry way. I saw a shoe shop and decided I should get some, because I assumed there would be some point in my future where flip-flops wouldn’t suffice. I wasted no time buying these shoes, mainly because everyone was creeplily staring at me. Hyderabad has pretty much no Western tourists, so it’s a bit like being the Queen of England here. Whenever you go somewhere you have pose for photos, shake people’s hands, have meaningless converstions with them and then do a really gay wave when you leave.

That night I was off to the cricket. I first stopped in at a pub for a drink. I met an Indian guy, who offered me a cigarette. I said I didn’t smoke, but this was a clove cigarette, which is apparentely fairly popular in India. I smoked it. It was like smoking toothpaste. Got minty fresh breath from a cigarette. Nice.

I got a taxi to the cricket and arrived reasonably early, so when I got in the stadium, I thought I’d check out the stadium a bit. It’s no Suncorp Stadium, that’s for sure. There’s a few people lingering around offering probably dodgy food. There’s an area at the back of the stadium where you can get drinks, and also probably raped, as it is completely unlit, apart from a bit of light that seaps through from the stadium lighting. You can get the usual softdrinks like Coke and Fanta. Well the sign says you can, but when you ask for it they give you the cheap crappy Indian equivalents of these drinks. They have no alcohol here also, so none of the usual shenanigans of cricket in Australia happens here.

I took up my seat in the nosebleed section and noticed the stadium getting fuller and fuller, until there were more people than seats. There was no actual seat allocation (just sections), so I realised that I couldn’t get up from my seat the entire of the game, or I would lose it. The game itself though was good to see, and the Indian’s really get into their cricket, so it was a great experience. I lived and breathed cricket (and oxygen) when I was a kid, so this was kind of like fulfilling a childhood dream to watch a game in India.

Yes I do panoramas now.

Despite the name, I would say Hyderabad was Hyderabetterthanexpected, although if it weren’t for the cricket I wouldn’t have come here. 

Summary

Awesome:

The cricket

Craptacular:

Too many people, nowhere nice to walk around.

What's Next

Goa - beaches and relaxation.

India: Chennai

I arrived in Chennai, India, completely unprepared as always. This didn’t bother me, but it did bother customs. They found it hard to believe that someone would arrive in Chennai alone, with no contacts, no hotel booked and no idea where they were going next. I explained to them that this is simply the result of my lazy, optimistic, chillinistic (probably not a word) way of travelling. They let me through.

The dude at the information desk sorted out a hotel for me, which not surprisingly was crap. It had only a fan (no A/C), which is somewhat of a problem when the minimum temperature at night is above 30 degrees. What’s even more of a problem is the electricity going out twice during the night, meaning no fan. It was also ridiculously dirty and rundown, had a barely functioning shower.. you get the drift.

The next morning, completely unrefreshed, I decided I needed to go to the city, hoping to find a way out of this hell-hole. As I walked out of the hotel, I got a feel for what I was going to encounter in India. Auto-rickshaws (tuk-tuks) loudly chugging away, rubbish all over the street, cows just wandering the streets. Here’s a picture that roughly sums it up:

I walked to the train station and noticed there was a massive queue to buy tickets, so I promptly gave up on that idea:

.. and got a taxi. The taxi very very slowly got me to the city, where I saw a Vodafone building. I decided to get an Indian sim card, so I could get internet on my phone. This was generally doable, except I needed to nominate a friend to be a personal reference, and the person had to be Indian. I said I had a friend outside, and went outside and asked my taxi driver to be my reference. He didn’t know what I was talking about. However, some random overheard me and happily agreed to come in and be my reference. The Vodafone guy wasn’t too pleased about my newfound friendship, but allowed it.

Next, the taxi driver dropped me off in a random part of the city. I was glad to get out, as he was an annoying taxi driver. He had talked the whole time about how I was part of his family, and Jesus loved me etc. He had also stopped at a clothing shop, when I had specifically told him I didn’t want this. I opened my wallet to give him his money, and he noticed a 100 note. This was a 100 Thai Baht note. He asked me if he could have that. He had previously asked me what country I was from, and also the conversion rate from Australian dollars to rupees, so I guessed that he thought it was a $100 Australian note. I held up the note and explained to him many many times that it was Thailand money, not Australian money, and it was worth less than the fare. He was so blind with greed though, that he virtually snatched it out of my hand, and tried to coax me out of the taxi before I thought to get it back. I gave up and walked away. He’s going to get one hell of a surprise when he goes to the currency exchange and gets the equivalent of $3 back.

I found myself an internet café. It had two fans, apparantely none of which worked, so in 40+ degree heat, I searched for a way out of Chennai. The trains were full and the bus company wouldn’t accept my credit card. I also tried to purchase tickets to an IPL (cricket) game online. This also failed. I gave up and booked a flight to Hyderabad.

In this internet café, I also got my first glimpse into the popularity of cricket here. They sold two brands of pen, but how would one choose which pen was the best? Let’s investigate. The Reynolds ‘Racer Gel II’ pen is endorsed by Sachin Tendulkar, who has been the most popular Indian cricketer for quite some time:

Must be a damn good pen.

However, the Cello ‘Flo-Gel’ pen is endorsed by MS Dhoni, the captain of the Indian cricket team, who has shot to stardom and is arguably as popular as Sachin now:

Must be a damn good pen as well. Anyway, I only trust pens endorsed by Shane Warne, so I purchased neither.

I went out and found myself an Indian restaurant to eat at. I’m not sure there’s any other type in Chennai. The food was the only good thing about this city. This was my first taste of Indian food in India, and it is simply delicious, and also very cheap. I was careful to ask for my curry to be mild, and it was still pretty spicy by Western standards.

Chennai was also the first place I witnessed a few of the many strange oddities of Indian culture. There's not enough space on the internet to list all of them, so I'll just write what comes into my head first:

First is the no head shake that means yes. I asked an Indian guy if he knew where something was. He said yes, but shook his head. I was confused. Instead of shaking the head horizontally left and right, it was more like a wave motion. This wave motion means yes. This took some getting used to.

Secondly, I watched an Indian eat. It’s a simlar sight to watching a 1 yr old eat. Using only his right hand, he ate his curry and rice dish. Half of it ended up on his hands and face. Thankfully it seems a lot of Indians don’t eat this way.

Thirdly, I noticed how gay Indians appear to be. Adult men will hold hands to cross the road. If seated next each other, they will often put their arms around each other, or one will lie on the other. Basically, they appear more gay than most gay people. However, they’re not actually.

Fourthly, they spit. Anywhere they want, any time they want. Not pretty.

Fifthly, they’re always covered. Men always wear long pants and a shirt. Women, a sari. How I don’t know, because it’s unbelievably hot outside.

Sixthly, Indians have no concept of queing. If you are waiting to be served by someone, Indians will nonchalantely push in front of you.

Anyway, suffice to say I suffered from some culture shock when I first got to India.

Summary

Awesome:

The food.

Getting the confirmation email of my flight out of this place.

Craptacular:

Everything except the food.

What's Next

Hyderabad - cricket time!

Vietnam: Nha Trang & Saigon

I got the sleeper train during the day from Da Nang to Nha Trang. Nha Trang is Vietnam’s beach party city, which is a good thing, because I had been experiencing far too much culture and not enough fun for my liking. I arrived late at night and went for a walk around. I popped into a bar and saw no less than three groups of people I had previously met on my travels. I had a couple drinks, then went to 'Why Not Bar'. Their signature drink is the ‘Fish Tank’, which contains no less than 4 bottles of alcohol:

I did not partake.

The next day, I did the obligatory beach visit, then that night I decided to have a few drinks in the bar attached to my hostel. I ran into a merry group of English guys and girls, of which only Alex and Lauren I can remember by name, and before long drinking games ensued. Not surprisingly, that turned out to be a crazy night and the next day I devoted to sleeping.

The next night was quieter. I went out with Canadian Andrew from my doom room. Somehow discussion centred on the awesomeness of the movie ‘Shawshank Redemption’. This then led to the instigation of the ‘Shawshank Challenge’. I am not at liberty to reveal what the challenge is, but suffice to say, Andrew and I have set our sights on achieving this noble feat.

Once Andrew had left, Chiliean Pablo moved into my room. He introduced me to Irish Elaine, who in turn introduced me to a plethora of Irish girls. Pablo and the girls were going to the Vinpearl Island water park, so I tagged along with them, as did British Alex and Australian Gabrielle. I expected the water park to be a bit childish, but in fact there were some awesome slides there. The best ride was one where you get a group of people in a big tube and go down a slide banked so that you slide back and forth up the sides.

This ride is designed for a maximum of 6 people, however as it’s a family ride, I think they assumed only 2 would be adults. When we crammed 6 adults in this tube, we slid up the sides so much, that we very nearly went over the edge of the slide. Pablo especially was holding on for dear life, and looked like he was about to either be launched into the stratosphere or land on top of us. Thankfully, we survived the ride.

When we got back from the park, we all went out drinking, except Alex, who passed out and was declared unwakeable. Well actually the drinking started at meal time, since the restaurant attached to the hostel offers a free bucket with every meal! It was probably a given, with so many Irish involved, that this night would get interesting, and it didn’t disappoint.

The next day I realised it was time to get out of Nha Trang, so I booked a sleeper bus to Ho Chi Mihn City. Elaine and Pablo were also going on the same bus. This was my first sleeper bus experience, and it was a sleepless one. The seat doesn’t fully recline and you have to stick your feet in a wedge under the head of the person in front of you. 

When we arrived in Ho Chi Mihn City, we said goodbye to Pablo, who was heading to an island, and me and Elaine promptly checked in to our doom room, and slept our way through most of the day. When we awoke, we went to a restaurant that had quite an extensive range of meats. I decided to try pidgeon. It came whole and was delicious. This is me holding it's head (sorry vegetarians, vegans, animal activists etc)

The next day we went to the Reunification Palace. I didn’t and still don’t know the significance of this place, so we didn’t stay long. We then went to the Army Musuem, which held a collection of artifacts and stories from the Vietnam War, of course painting a bad picture of America. The museum also had replicas of some of the tanks and planes used in the war:

That night, the rest of the Irish girls arrived in Ho Chi Minh City. Eilis (weird Gaelic name) came with a gift – the passport that I had left behind at the hostel reception in Nha Trang!

The next day we were off on a tour of the Cu Chi tunnels. These were the tunnels that the Vietnamese dug before and during the Vietnam War, in order to hide and move around undetected. The tunnels were very narrow and had been widened significantly to allow Westeners to be able to crawl through them.

They were still narrow however and due to our claustrophobia, Ailbhe (weird Gaelic name) and I hesitated on crawling through them. The Vietnamese guy working there was having none of it though, and told us to hurry up, so we just did it.

Next, we were shown some traps used by the Vietnamese against the Americans. One of the traps is a wooden hatch, covered with leaves, that when stood on, rotated, causing the victim to fall onto a bed of spikes.

Then it was my favourite part of the day – the shooting range. I was offered a selection of guns to shoot. I chose the well-known Russian AK-47. I bought a 10-round clip and fired it in semi-automatic mode. Obviously this doesn’t last long, but I felt at least 20% more manly for having fired this rifle. 

We headed back to the hostel, then went out for a drink. It was a good night out until, on the way back, Eilis (weird Gaelic name) had her handbag snatched off her shoulder by a guy driving past on a motorcycle. As I had shot an AK-47 earlier that day, I was in rampage vigilante hero mode, and started pursuing the guy on foot. At some point it occurred to me that I couldn’t run as fast as a motorcycle and gave up.

That was the end of my time in Vietnam. Like all the countries before it, Vietnam exceeded my expectations. The people are generally very nice and Vietnam has both the cultural and entertainment aspects covered.

Summary

Awesome:

Nha Trang partying, Shawshank Redemption, water park madness, shooting serious weaponry, Cu Chi tunnels

Craptacular:

Gaelic names. They are not spelt the way I want them to be spelt ;p

What's Next

India - life experiences await

Vietnam: Hue, Hoi An & Da Nang

I got the overnight train from Hanoi to Hue – my first sleeper train experience. The sleeper trains are a pretty good way to travel – 2 sets of 2-tier bunk beds in a room with AC. Upon getting in my room, I attempted to communicate with my roomies, only to discover that none of them could speak any kind of reasonable English. Thankfully, after scurrying the hallways, I found Westerners in the other room and talked with them for the rest of the night until I was ready for bed.

I arrived in Hue in the morning of my birthday. Hue used to be the imperial capital of some dynasty. I met English Stu and Semi–English, Semi-South African Talitha. I tagged along with them and we went and visited the Imperial Citadel (read: boring old building):

By the time I had got back to the hostel, word had got around that it was my birthday, partly because the staff noticed from my passport, and partly because I was telling everyone.

That night a few of us went down to the bar to celebrate. To my surprise, the staff appeared with a birthday cake and sung happy birthday to me. 

Stu was also kind enough to buy me a shot of ‘Arse’, which is Vodka combined with fish sauce, and is appropriately named. All in all it turned out to be a really good birthday night.

The next we hired bicycles and road around randomly. We were looking for a temple, but got pretty lost. Talitha spotted a vegan restaurant and wanted to eat there. I’m scared of Vegan restaurants, but this meal (some kind of egg and fake meat soup) was quite good. 

We eventually found some temples, and the most lifelike statue I’ve ever seen. Until I nervously prodded him, I really wasn’t all that confident it was a statue.

Bored of Hue, I got the bus South to Hoi An. When I got off the bus, I was hounded by people offering me accommodation. Amongst the mayhem, I totally forgot to get my backpack off the bus. I walked a little down the road and realised what I had done. I ran back to the bus station, but the bus was already gone, and was heading about 10 hours South. No-one at the bus station cared about my predicament, but a lady from the hotel I decided to stay at overheard me and told me we could chase the bus down. This sounded awesomely Hollywood like, so I got on the back of her motorbike and she started chasing the bus. Luckily, the bus had pulled over not too far away to pick up more passengers, and we were able to chase it down and reclaim my bag.

Anyway, Hoi An is an old town, that used to be a popular trading port. It’s now just a ridiculously touristy town. I’m never one to complain that places are too touristy (in fact that’s usually a plus for me), but this town was. It is a nice town to have a look at though. Here's an old Japanese bridge:

Here's a picture that appears to have been taken on a boat that I was never on:

Hoi An also has reasonably nice beaches, and we used this as an excuse to hire scooters and drive around for the day, stopping by the beach and a priceless restaurant. That is, there were no prices on the menu, so they charge you what they feel like. If you have shiny white Western skin, they usually feel like charging you more. Here was our crew today, minus me, as I could solve the conundrum of both taking the photo and being in the photo at the same time:

Next, I got a motorbike taxi from Hoi An to Da Nang, which is where I needed to be to get the train South. Motorbike taxis are the cheapest way to get around, and despite the fact that he had to put my giant backpack in front of him while he was riding, he was more than happy to do the 45 minute drive.

Da Nang is a reasonably big city, that’s quite modern looking. Tourists don’t really go here all that much, but I liked it. I hired a scooter again, and went on an epic ride around town, across a suspension bridge, past the beaches and down the highway. By this time I had become quite addicted to riding scooters, and this was the nicest ride I’ve done yet. I stopped over at a place called ‘Marble Mountain’, which is self-describing. Walking up the mountain was both tiresome and boring, but I was quite the celebrity here. I’m not sure who they thought I was, but anyone and everyone wanted a picture with me. After I couldn’t handle fame anymore, I drove back to the hotel.

Summary

Awesome:

Birthday celebrations in Hue, scootering around Hoi An and Da Nang

Craptacular:

Hue - a town designed to be as boring as possible

What's Next

South Vietnam - The beach and the big city