Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Hoping in the Hope Valley







So life has taken another sharp twist and I am amidst new people in a new country taking baby steps to understand its different culture. Change is good and when you are in a different place its even better (not all hunky dory but yeah good). So far I am loving it. The better half and me are slowly settling in Sheffield and just getting over the end of a long, much looked for Bank holiday weekend. So as the weekend approached we decided to give "settling in" a break and just go out footloose and fancy as true vagabonds.

As the sun rose on a lazy Saturday we were bustling to get out of the door and see what the countryside of England, a country rich in culture has to offer us. No plans, no maps, no nothing..just an idea, a curious mind and a strong spirit (not the liquid kind :P) to guide us. From Sheffield we reached Hope Valley in Derby shire aboard the Sheffield-Manchester Piccadilly train. As the the train slowly left Sheffield, the skyline changed rapidly to huge trees, beautiful foliage, undulating valleys and green in every hue, tantalizing and teasing our eyes. I keep repeating this and once again I plead guilty--nature is truly humbling.

As we got down the Hope valley station; it felt like time travel to a bygone era. It was a scene befitting a painting...eye-catching meadows, old cottage houses rearing sheep, cascading mountains, watch dogs et all. The weather at this time of the year is perfect. It is warm enough to give your legs a good exercise and cool enough to do all that in a light jacket.

The quaint little valley is dotted with ancient churches, castles, small delis and not-so-big pubs and is a haven for adrenalin junkies like bikers, pony trekkers and rock climbers and even artists, photographers, painters, bird-watchers. Considered as one of the best walking countryside in the UK, it lies between the grit-stone moors of the dark peak and limestone outcrops of the White peak. The whole belt is an amalgamation of different valleys, moors and other ruins.

As we were taking in the lovely sights; we decided to make out first stop. Churches have always been a major interest to me, I don't know what it is about them--the serenity and divinity which wafts out from the place, the architecture or just some energy which attracts me towards them. We stopped at the church of saint Peter, a beautiful church standing majestically just on the outskirts of the Hope hamlet. Its an old roman fort structure said to be built in 1858. Built of wood and sandstone; its regal and breathtaking. Towards the right of the Parish church is a graveyard giving the whole place a very melancholy feel.

At this point we realized that with half of the day gone it is time to have at least an inkling of a plan, we decided to give cycling (mind you the leisure kind) a hand. But each shop we went told us we need to go to Bamford easily two miles from Hope to get one; and that's when we hopped into a bus. Now, there is something truly different between people from city and those from countryside; they are in many ways more hospitable and thus pleasant. We got into a bus and asked the driver that we need to get down at Bamford and if knows any cycle rentals in that area. He was quick to answer in negative, but before we knew it we were going through the narrow lane and by lanes of Bamford because our man was searching for a cycle rental shop for us. He got us down right in front of our biggest need of the day. Needless to say, it left us pleasantly overwhelmed. Once we got our bikes, we mounted and took a second tour covering Bamford, Hope before fixing our mind on Castleton.

As we biked the lovely breeze slowly kissed our faces making sure we are never too tired to give it up thus pushing us to trudge along the billowing roads of the valley. A quick lunch comprising chips and cheese omelet in a countryside British pub we reached Castleton; a haven for travelers of all kind; as the name suggests Castleton is dominated by castles like the Norman castle, the Peak cavern, Peveril castle, the Castleton village etc.

We headed towards the famous Peak cavern; a collection of caves where an entire village sustained some 180 years back. Popularly known as the Devil's arse it is one of the biggest attraction here. It was owned by the Duchy of Lancaster. The entrance to the caves is jaw dropping beautiful; it looks like an immense cleft on a humungous rock sitting in sharp contrast to a quaint stream flowing nearby. As you go under the cleft you enter a wide, impressive entrance of the caves. Families engaged in rope making used to live here. And even today you can see a house or two; not bigger than your own double bed there. As a testimony to the thriving rope making industry of the yore, the cave managers still give you lessons and tours on how they did it.

Beyond the entrance a narrow passage leads to a chamber known the Bell-House. Continuing on along the path you reach a chamber called the Great Cave which is about 60m high and contains a passage in its roof which emerges near Peveril Castle. Interestingly, outsiders used to believe that devil stays inside this cave and since the gurgling stream would make some noise; it was said that the devil was passing gas. See what all the simple act of flatulence can do.

But for the sake of royalty the name was changed to Peak's Cavern sometime in the 1900s as the queen was supposed to visit the place. Now the queen cannot say arse so a much polite (albeit a little too straight for my twisted mind) so the cave was rechristened as Peak's Cavern.

We came out of Devil's arse totally thrilled and not just because no one exercised this natural right inside the dingy caves :) and I could not stop wondering how many such mysteries and beauties our Mother earth is abundant with. Unfortunately, we were told it was too late (4:30PM) to go to the other castles and caverns. And my only grouse was at the ticking clock.

But then it only gives me a reason to go back. And I can't wait to hop in that train once more to get ready to be teased once again by the lovely countryside of Hope district.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

The Humbling Sea--My Gokarna Experience




One of the best things about having a job with unlimited Internet access is that you can keep troubling Mr G (Google not God, silly) endlessly. And so during my one of the many "working" moment, I asked Mr G about Gokarna and immediately images of the vast never ending ocean, pristine beaches and historical temples graced my screen. One look at the picture of the awesome Om beach; and I was positively lusting to go there. I mean I had to be there, it was some sort of epiphany and so with my roomie, my friend Jyothi I took off. Well meaning friends kept advising us with dire warnings--it is very sunny, it is raining cats and dogs, yada yada. But we still went, two mad girls going madder on the lovely beaches. It was a dream. It couldn't have been better.

Gokarna is a quaint little village in Uttar Karnataka; with vast beaches, a bustling village and the lofty Sahyadris; Gokarna is a ideal destination for those who loves the beaches and the mountains and want a taste of both at once. And being relatively less explored, it is every bit shy cousin of its neighbor Goa. After a really bumpy ride from Bangalore, very little sleep, we open our eyes as dawn hit. The first sight we see is the lush lakes, the still sleeping village and the smell of fresh rain treated mud awakens us; well its hard not to. A rickety tuk tuk take us towards Om beach and the famous Namaste cafe.

Still undecided where to stay we entered the cafe with much trepidation but as soon as we reached the eating area; we saw the sea waves hitting the hefty rocks, the sea wind caressing our skin and jaw dropping beauty of the OM shaped beach. The choice was made. The sea is a real moody creature, I realized. At times its calm, at times rocky and at times absolutely ruthless. It humbles you down and never ceases to amaze you. I thought the timing could not have been perfect. It was sunny just enough to take a long walk on the beach, get lost looking at the water, read or simply do nothing and cool enough to hike up the tricky cliffs. And as soon as you break a sweat, a quick five minute sudden shower will cool you down.

The cherry on the cake was meeting people from the other side of the world and befriending. Traveling gets rid of your bigotry and teaches you a lot, Mark Twain once said. And meeting different people and learning from them teaches you a lot. For starters, I could not help admire the gumption of this kindergarten teacher from Brazil who is in here for six months travelling alone,roughing it out in some unbearable conditions (unbearable for me) in sleeper class trains, living in match box kind of rooms all for the sake of finding herself. Or a German teacher teaching in a Chennai village who wanted to explore the varied nature of the seas, the people of this vast nation. I learnt at the end of the day despite our differences of colour, culture and languages. We all want the same things--to know who we really are, to explore the various secrets of world, to love and to be loved. I think this was the biggest highlight of the whole trip.

With this Brazilian friend we took off to the bustling market of Gokarna. Well, since it was off season and late noon, the market wasn't really bustling. But on the plus side we got some neat deal; loosened our wallet and bulked our bag with some psychedelic Alladin pants, colorful tops, knick-knacks and all. And while the locals do know how to haggle with an equally haggling customer (read me) I must admit they were much nicer than the shop keepers in city!! Its a quintessential village scene out there, with people greeting each other, shops slowly opening after their siesta hours, mowing cows moving about and all. The famous Mahabaladeva temple is located here. Unfortunately, out of bounds for the phirangs; believed to be some 1500 years old the temple dedicated to Lord Shiva, it houses the "atmalinga," legend has it that Ravana himself coined this name referring to the Shiva lingam's strength. With so much of legend surrounding it; its hard not to go there. And as soon as you enter, a strange sense of calm wraps you up....it is as if someone is telling you that all is well. It gave me goosebumps, I kid you not.

While there are other beaches as well, we could not go to most of them as it was the monsoons and we were told the sea can be really ferocious at times. It was closed even if we want to take the risk. But nonetheless, we trekked from Om beach to Kudle beach. But honestly after the mesmerizing beauty of Om, this was a bit of a dampener.Only because it was more populated which in India translates to more dirty. Really, when are we going to learn some civic sense and love the nature??? But to lift our sagging mood, we took a challenge with our firang friends. Trekking back to Om we saw the lofty rocks of the Sahyadris calling us. It was tricky and the unpredictable weather added with the high tide and sea waves almost slapping the huts was a warning enough, but we were hear to flirt with danger. And so we took, rough the slippery rocks, the wind plants hitting us from unknown quarters and gingerly without really looking down at the sea we walked. Looking back, I think if I had caught even a small peak, I would frozen, we were at a great height alright and single step gone wrong could have given a very nasty ending to this story. But Gods were with us. We scaled and it was every bit worth the risk.

The view was breathtaking. The sea all below, all around us. The "Om" shape finally revealing itself and of course the tall trees giving us shelter. It proved God is really there for only he could have made such a beautiful world. That moment I thought I was living inside a beautiful painting.

Gokarna is a place of contrasts. The small huts, the simple locals and ruined temples sits in sharp but comfortable paradox with the beaches, the cafes and the hammocks. You can get lost in the beauty of nature, get your adrenalin kick by trekking up the mountains and just simply discover yourself. Meant for everyone, bar no one.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Wild Wild South

Work beckoned me; kept me endlessly busy. But I am back with a new adventure and a new story.

Blink and you are likely to miss this small, quaint town on River Chaliyar bank, some 70 kilometers from Calicut. Nilambur, is a far cry from the tourist hot spots of Kerala. There is no usual hustle bustle and virtually no sign of commercialisation. But don't let that stop you. You are in God's own country after all and here God comes in play throttling in raw splendour; wilderness staring right back at you. Me and Jit made a spontenous plan to go to this place one fine day only because I was whining that life has become a tad boring and like a clock. So we head off to this little known place in our car from Manjeri on a fine Sunday morning.

Honestly, I was not expecting much. I have never really explored the various trekking spots in my hometown. And Nilambur made a perfect start. The biggest attraction of this place is the Conolly's plot, world's oldest man made teak plantation. A small trek takes us to Conolly's plot, set amidst vast rainforests. The plot is home for a variety of teak species as also the oldest teak tree in the world- Kannimari-with a girth of 420cm at breast height and approximately 16-17 metres long. Your jaw is likely to drop when you see this immobile giant. There are as many as 117 teak trees in this plot. Before you wonder how so many teak trees came here then you must go into the deep history of this place.Conolly was a district magistrate of this place between 1835-1921. One of Conolly's duties were to ensure a steady supply of quality teak to British Ship building yards and for that Mr Conolly built this plot in 1844.Today, it is a perfect place to breathe in some fresh but wild air, take in the sounds of playful squirrels and birds chirping in the foliage. And let nature speak to you. As for me I regally played thepart of babe in woods while husband dear went on clicking away occassionaly indulging the child in me :).

But the most beautiful part of this plot is the hanging bridge. Made of iron bars and ropes, it connects the plot to the mainland. This strudy bridge sways gently as soft wind caresses you. Passing through the Chaliyar river amidst the vast green of the plantation, undulating hills and forest on the other side, walking on the bridge is like walking into a postcard. I kid you not!! Needless to say the best part of the journey for me. (Pics coming up soon)

From here we proceed to one of the kind Teak museum, some two kilometers from the plot. Now, I have seen many kinds of museums but this is truly unique as the various aspects of teak--historic, aesthetic and scientific has been diligently recorded here. Nature enthusiasts should certainly not miss this spot. Our trip comes in end at the biodiversity park. An artistically landscaped park which houses several species of different flora, medicinal trees and a small butterfly garden. The sights tease you and makes you come tantalizingly alive.

As we were approaching Nilambur, I saw large, palatial houses made of wood. The Gulf money was doing its job and its blatant display was only making me nauseous. I was only about to write this place off, Jits told me to keep an open mind. And that I did only to come surprised from this little known place.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

The Motorcycle Diaries





This year we ushered in the New Year in quite a ballistic way and were quite glad that it turned out to be exactly the way we wanted it to be despite many misgivings from dear husband. I wanted it to be different for three reasons:

• The idea of spending another year in a crowded pub with strangers was really very unappealing (Wisdom, wisdom)
• Our (Me and the better half) body and spirit was craving for some adrenalin rush thanks to the endless hours of work, pressure of deadlines and blah blah.
• I was thinking what better way to welcome the New Year, discover a new place, shake hands with adventure and if we are really lucky make some new friends.

And quite accidently we fulfilled all the above aspirations and Jithin, my husband finally learnt that the wife (Me, broad grin) simply knows more and it is better to listen to her ;). So after many deliberations, several arguments and discussions, we set off to a little know hill station called Yercaud, located in Salem district some 222 kms from Bangalore in our trusted Pulsar (Boy, are we adventurous or what). The journey replete with many breaks; coffee, food and exercise was quite an experience itself. We took off early in the morning just as the Sun’s rays were slowly hitting and was welcomed by mist everywhere. And before long we reached Hosur on the NH7. As we reached Krishnagiri at around 10 AM, the quintessential village scene was slowly unwrapping itself even as if we zipped, zapped and zoomed on the bike.
To give our tired limbs a break; we would often stop and stretch ourselves, giving a rather unusual sight to several lorry drivers using the NH7. It was pleasant to see women and men coming out of their abodes to work on the vast green fields. The air while passing through Krishnagiri is full of smell of mangoes and we learnt that Krishnagiri is one of the largest Mango producing districts in the country. By early noon we reached Salem and I was quite surprised to see showrooms of brands like Reebok, Adidas and Nautica here—far away from the fashion centers of the country. That’s when Jits told me that it is the next best place to shop after Tirupur where you get these brands in the wholesale rate.
From Salem we slowly moved to the Ghat road which was to take us to Yercaud and a sign board told us that we have to navigate through 20 hair pin bends to reach our destination. That was enough for me to hold on to Jit tightly and pray to all the Gods. While my eyes were closed, he valiantly navigated through the hair pin bends and other vehicles etc. With my eyes closed all I could do was smell the lovely mountain air and feel the cold air kissing my face. And I knew I was finally in the mountains…yiee!! And without much ado we reached Yercaud and made way to Glenrock Estate, a little known estate here. Smiling women and men busy smoking the bidi directed us to this place.
As we entered the estate, the air was redolent with the smell of local food. And my stomach growled telling us to eat. So without even going to our tree house (Yes, we stayed at a tree house) we jumped. It was the regular South Indian fare-rice, sambar, chicken curry, cabbage thokku but may be because it was all homegrown on the estate or maybe we were just too hungry it all tasted heavenly. Later, we trekked to our tree house on this large coffee estate. A minor trek but made challenging due to the slippery-forest terrain but we reached. The tree house was one of the best parts of the whole journey. Not only it provided a bird’s eye view of the entire estate and forest but also connected us to the wild aspects of nature. As romantic as it sounds, it was also scary to be here at night :P. We explored the little town of Yercaud. It is a good place if you want to trek, experience the wild side of mountain life or just do nothing but enjoy yourself and peace and calm. But every journey up and down the valley gave a great exercise to our legs and lungs. Apart from Coffee plantation, Yercaud is also filled with orange orchards, pepper, pumpkin and other citrus fruits.
As the day was closing to an end night was setting in, my husband’s misgivings returned. It is New Year and all we had was us and our tanhaiyee and certainly no dance and music. But we were lucky to meet a crazy and raucous bunch from Bangalore who certainly made it all the more memorable. Jits casually striked a conversation with Sanket who we were told later is the “Pappa” of the group. And he nicely asked us to join them. Pleasant introductions gave way to great conversations and not for a single moment we thought we were the “outsiders” in this group. We heard some funny nicknames Tiny for Kavita; Sheila for the Indian “French” boy Carthik, Daru for Darshana, Pappa’s better half and so forth. As night fell, we talked and laughed (mostly laughed) and ate delicious barbequed khaana while hubby made his specialty Pineapple-Cheese and Cherry.
While the air was nail bitingly cold all the laughter and antics made us warm. The women got the special privilege to make the men dance to item numbers, so Carthik did a Sheila ki Jawaani while Arnab became the badnaam Munni, Pappa danced on trance and Jits hip hopped!! While us women showered them with fake money in form of paper. A true Kotha scene only gender roles reversed :D. Now you know why they say women can make the men dance to their tunes!! But the best antic was yet to come. And it finally came as the clock struck 12 when Adarsh kissed and hugged the rocks; he certainly welcomed the New Year in a rocking way! As we all laughed at his expense I learnt we have to go back and dreaded the prospect to walk through that rocky path dead of the night.
My husband true to his nature held on to me, nudged and prodded me to walk. As we once again made way across the forest with the help of two lovely helped boys from the estate all I could think was the Blair witch project. The next day I was surprised to open my eyes and ears to mist filled mountains, birds chirping and a lovely feeling.
We made our descend from the tree house and Yercaud and I thanked God there was no Blair witch but memory of a great adventure, making new friends and an awesome time.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Backpacking across Ahmedabad











Last year I went to Ahmedabad, the bustling city in Gujarat's hinterland twice. And it turned out to be a worthwhile trip, not just because of the lovely stories I got to report from here, but also because I was pleasantly surprised by this city famous for having the IIM and infamous for being a dry state! Dry state--for many it spells boredom with a capital B. But I understood early on, dry or otherwise, Gujaratis certainly know how to let their hair down without causing any major trouble.

The first thing which struck me was how clean the city is. Coming from Mumbai I am accustomed (If not happy) to see people spitting, throwing garbage and of course (men) peeing in any and every corner. Here I was pleasantly surprised to see people diligently looking for a dustbin to throw their rubbish even while on move. Needless to say, the city earned some brownie points just for that.




After as-comfortable-as-it gets train journey (Shatabadi Express) I reached Ahemdabad little after lunch time. Went to straight to my guest house. There was no traffic snarls to stop us and the drive explained that Gujjus love taking a chota break post lunch. Wow siesta hour, the term did not even figure in my dictionary and wasn't Mumbai the friendly neighbour city??? After freshening up, I went for my first assignment. While returning to my guest house, there were people full throng outside the city doing what they love doing--Eating! Roadside eateries selling number of savouries had opened and people were in full swing enjoying this palatable variety. I was overwhelmed pleasantly so for several strangers (families with lot of girls) invited us to have a treat with them. Though I refused politely their hospitality certainly won me over.
I refused because I was on my way to Vishala, a beautiful restaraunt designed tastefully like a village. Vishala is not just any restaraunt it is a little known tourist destination where you can taste not only scrumptious Gujrati cuisine but also a taste of the village life. As the evening turned into night beautiful girl resplendent in colourful garb came and danced garbha, dandiya etc while men dressed in turban and Gujarati attire of kurta and dhoti served the many guests. A word of caution: Go here only if you are a true food lover for they will fill you on and on without scrumptious local dishes like rotli, subzi, dhokla, thepla etc etc. Not that I was complaining! I returned to my room exhausted but satiated.

The next day my first stop was the famous Adalaj step well. Located around 10 miles from the main city, the step well, as the name suggests is a well with many steps to go inside. Now completely dry it was built some 500 years ago during the Vaghela rulers regime by Rani Rudabai. The well was a haven for travellers in the good old days where they would come to relax and have some water before proceeding. The total length of the well is about 240 feet and it has three separate entrances, the platform of the well rests on 16 pillars and each pillar is decorated with intricate carvings as is the various steps. Once a symbol of splendour today it resembles an abandoned building with signs of deceript catching in slowly. It was quite disheartening to see pan stains etc on this architectural wonder. But still, the clean parts spoke a story of utmost royalty.

No trip to Ahemdabad is complete without visting the historical Sabarmati Ashram, so my next stop was that. The Sabarmati Ashram, where history was written has always intrigued me. I was not surprised to see the Ashram without many visitors save for few History students and foreigners interested to know about the Gandhi legacy. There is something about the place it humbles you down instantly. I visited Gandhiji's abode and was surprised to see how sparse it was even back then. The Ashram authorities do a great job keeping it clean and green throughout and they are certainly a courteous bunch. Gandhi's story is filled in every nook and corner be it the home, the notice board with letters and sculptures and photos depicting Gandhi in many avatars. I really loved the place just for the quite it offered plus the lovely greens. The quaint Sabarmati river added to its beauty. Soon the banks of the river will be developed ( read Malled) and we might as well lose a symbol of simplicity and austerity very soon.
Now, a you cannot take Shopping out of a girl's list especially if the Girl is me! So, before wrapping up the journey, I made a quick dash to the Teen Darwaza bazaar, a bustling flea market. Flea markets and street fashion have always interested me. I firlmy believe a lot of latest catwalk trends comes from here and I never miss a chance to visit one. The Bazaar here is a microcosm offering you a great bargain on Gujarati textile, shoes, handicrafts etc. I brought some colourful dupattas and mojris which were completely value for money. And I left for home little poorer with money but richer with experience :)

Why I am here?

Hello can't be seen but there are readers,
In this myraid world of blogs here comes another. This time I am here to share my various travel stories. The best thing about my job is that it gives me some opportunities to travel, meet other people and get acquainted with new culture. Luckily, I also have a hubby who shares the same passion. Not that we are constantly travelling considering there are jobs, bread to be won, salaries to be earned, pockets to be filled etc etc. But whenever we can we try and do it....individually or together. Travel to me is an adventure and at times the most psychologically challenging exercise. It is the best high I can ever get. And I don't mind roughing it in any circumstance. So watch this space to know about our travel adventures fellow travel lovers :)
Dhanya