One year off to travel with the boys

Agra is nowhere near Goa -- so the photo album above (click to view the album) is in no way related to the following entry:

It's Christmas eve and we are safely esconced in Albuquerque Villas, Candolim. We have been in Goa for ten days with Ethan on his final day of antibiotics after enduring six days of stomach problems last week, and Toby now on his second day. We expected stomach issues and everyone told us it would happen, but the reality is always a little worse if not outright apocalyptic. Only Carmen, with her battle hardened stomach from Hong Kong has been able to avoid it, eating prawn curries and other local cuisine whole heartedly while we look on in with nauseated horror. On the other hand Carmen didn't have any of the ice cream from Nehrula's, recommended by her friend as the best ice cream in Delhi. I was set to go to Saravana Bahvan one last time, tried and tested and with excellent ice cream too, in tropical flavours (unlike Nehrula's which only has Western flavours as far as I could see). Of course it could have been the chicken.

Luckily, I did listen to Carmen and consequently we flew from Delhi to Goa on the very modern Spice Jet, then took the two hour taxi ride to Bakti Khutir in Palolem where Ethan, Toby and I then succumbed. If we had been sick on the 27 hour train ride on the way down, things could have been a lot worse, it's true.

On the first morning in Palolem we also attempted to give the boys the malarial pills prescribed by the doctors in Spain. To absolutely no avail. We tried cajoling them, bribing them, forcing them, mixing the pill with sugar, dissolving it. Nothing. We gave up. There is no way we were going to do thirty more days of this. We would simply have to risk it and in the meantime cover up and put insect repellant on.

Palolem Beach is a beautiful curved beach with soft clean sand, but the sea on the southern end, where we were, proved a little too tranquil and murky from lack of motion. Our two rooms consisted of a thatched hut with an up and downstairs room connected by very steep stairs outside. Both beds had full mosquito nets which was fortunate as there were gaping holes everywhere and nothing to prevent any insect from flying in from the surrounding jungle. At night, the jungle noises proved to be very exciting making ear plugs a must. Around 12, it consisted of the occasional noisy neighbour, dogs howling and crickets. Around 2, there would be a crescendo of sorts with perhaps a donkey or two and then it would be quiet till about 4 or 5 when birds of every sort would screech and roosters would crow until the sun came up around 6.

How do I know this? Because for two whole nights I was traversing up and down the stairs to the squat toilet below, carrying either myself or Ethan, so I had plenty of time to observe nature at its most nocturnal. There were other sounds too, a little more alarming. The first time we heard it, we weren't sure what t was but it sounded like someone coming quickly toward us, crashing through the undergrowth and then leaping onto the thatched roof. Only later when we heard the second and third one fall, did we realize it was a coconut falling from a tree, the first one falling directly onto our roof in a freak occurrence.

We were due to spend three nights there, but on the second day Carmen was ready to call it quits. Ethan and I were feeling a little weak despite our Oral Rehydration Salts (ORS), and so we departed that morning for Uttorda Beach, a half-way point between Palolem and Candolim in the north, which Carmen had carefully researched. After an hour of driving we came across a lovely looking place called Royal Orchid Resort where we spent a glorious day and night recuperating from our recent hardships around the swimming pool and fantastic beach. Added bonus: western toilet, en-suite: on the same floor as the bedroom!

Next day, we took a taxi to Candolim and arrive at Albequerque Villas. The one room apt. turns out to be very comfortable with separate mattresses in the living room for the kids and a kitchen with one ring burner and pots. The A/C unit in the bedroom looks promising too, but by now I realize it works only when the electricity is on, which is usually when the day is at its hottests and you need it most. Solution is obviously to leave it on max so that there is enough pent up coolness to get you over the rough periods.

Posted by chris at 09:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The night before we left for India, we spent the night in a hotel (Jury’s Inn) close to Heathrow, though our flight didn’t leave until 11 p.m. We used the rental car to explore the area, having lunch in my brother’s old college of Royal Holloway, going to Saville Gardens (well worth seeing, although a bit muddy in winter), and to visit the Windsor Sports Centre which has an excellent swimming pool including simulated waves and slide. The boys were exhausted and hungry by the time we left (and so were we), which is exactly what we wanted before boarding the eight hour overnight flight to Delhi.

Check-in for Virgin flights was horrendous. We got to the check in counter quickly having printed our tickets electronically at one of the automatic machines, but then the lady asked as if we had weighed our bags. I told her yes, but then she asked about our carry-on bags which are supposed to have a max weight of 7 kg. This was a bit of a surprise to say the least and each of our bags were about double, so we had to leave the checkin desk to repack. Since our two checkin bags were full and already at the weight limit, we were at a loss what to do. As I repacked, Carmen stood in line and I found an empty green sachel in the suitcase to distribute some of the weight. On returning to the line, Carmen signaled to come forward, but there were too many people in the way, so we stood at the back. Unfortunately, there were about a dozen people in front of us and quite a few families heading back to Nairobi with half a dozen bags or more. Just as we were about to reach the counter, someone who had been waiting for his friend went in front of us and was told about the baggage limitations (he had 5 very large bags). Poor guy was asked to pay 500 pounds for his excess to which he looked devastated. We were quite devastated ourselves having waited an hour in line the second time round; at this point the kids were lying around on the floor or leaning against the trolley so that the bags would fall onto the floor. There were a couple of people in other lines who lost their tempers, so the whole experience was quite unpleasant. All this really because Virgin doesn’t stratify their lines according to destination. Beautiful looking Virgin dedicated terminal though (Terminal 3).

The Virgin flight left late, and the flight was uneventful. The boys slept most of the way and the arrival at Delhi airport quite anti-climactic; we had both imagined a scene of chaos and crowds of people. In fact there were few people milling around in the very modern airport and no one hassled us. I booked a pre-paid taxi as soon as we left customs and we hopped in. An hour later, we were at the Baghat Inn. Not being too impressed with the place, we went to our backup, the YWCA. The room was much bigger and very close to Connaught Circle – the Fisherman’s Wharf (tourist hub) of Delhi. As we approached Delhi, I asked Toby (now six years old) if he noticed any differences between Delhi and London, but he got very annoyed with me saying that he couldn’t see anything different. I tried to point out a few things and he relented that there in fact might be a few differences. Tuk tuks, the motorized rickshaws are everywhere and, like the buses, filled to the brim. There are few, if any, rules on the road with people driving in the same direction on both left and right lanes, as well as in between, so that you often see cars and tuk tuks coming towards you, while pedestrians cross in all directions. Horns are in use constantly to indicate all manner of expression. The pollution is pervasive although different from Morocco. Instead of black smoke, there is a haze so thick, on the day we arrived the sun directly overhead was dull orange. Since then the pollution has improved however.

After a quick nap, I took a tuk tuk to Connaught Circle and found a Saravana Bhavan where I had an uthupam, some lassi and tea. Since there is a Saravana Bhavan in the Bay Area I knew this was a good place to go. When Carmen and the kids woke up later, we took the kids to McDonalds and then Saravan Bhavan again; they also had mango/coconut ice cream for the kids.

Incredibly the kids slept through the night from about 9p.m. until 12 the next day, Thursday. After another trip for breakfast to the same places, we took a taxi to see Lodhi Gardens, where the kids could work off some energy running around the beautiful monuments there. Then on to India Gate which is a large triumphal arch along the lines of the one in Paris, and has an excellent playground nearby, where the local primary school students were playing. The boys had to fight their way on and off the play structures. There were hoards of children going down the slide and the way in which they got on reminded me of paratroopers exiting a plane for battle. At one point, Ethan was knocked into the sand of which he took a mouthful, but he was up again soon, unphased.
Friday morning, I hired a car and driver for the day from the YWCA and went to Connaught Place to try to arrange our trip to Agra. Using Lonely Planet, I found Kumar and Kumar and negotiated a Toyota Innova with driver and one night stay at Hotel Amar. I was also able to get information from them about the train ticket from Goa to Kerala – that 2 A/C is actually sleeper class and also that there were a few seats available on the 4th January ONLY. I promptly went to New Delhi train station and was able to purchase the tickets without any problems or hassle from touts.

When everybody woke up around 12, we went to visit Hunamaya’s tomb which was a forerunner to the Taj Mahal (see pics), followed by Qutb Minar, a tall tower made of red sandstone. Like all Indian sites we’ve been to then and since, locals pay 10 Rps. and foreigners anywhere between 25 and 75 times more.

Next day, we went to the Masjid in Old Delhi near the Red Fort, deciding to give the latter a miss since the one in Agra is supposed to be quite similar anyway (having seen both now I don’t think that’s true). The Masjid was interesting but not as well kept as other mosques we have visited or seen in Morocco. The climb up one of the mosque towers was definitely worth doing and we got a good view of Delhi despite the smog/haze. We decided to branch out of our Saravana/McDonalds routine and got a recommendation from a friend for a good North Indian restaurant called Gulathi’s. The problem with this of course is the boys will then only eat rice and end up hungry a few hours later. The food turned out to be quite good, although I have to say we are already spoiled in the Bay Area for good South and North India restaurants. The only thing I have tried that is distinctly better so far is the paneer (like a cross between cottage cheese and tofu), and the South Indian sweets at Saravana Bhavan like ladoo and halwa. And the lamb here is much more flavorful as well. The use of spices is pretty much the same.

Posted by chris at 04:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In Marrakesh, we initially stayed at the hotel right next to Café Panoramique -- arguably the best viewpoint for the Djmaa El Fnaa. The room was spacious and quiet but sterile; breakfast was mediocre but overlooks the square. After a couple of nights, we moved to Riad Omar around the corner. The room there was small and quite dark, but it was cleaner, cheaper and more comfortable for us all with four separate single beds. The breakfast on the rooftop was excellent, second only to Riad Attarine in Fez. Still, we were looking to give my brother Nick a true Riad experience as we had in Fez, so spent a couple of hours that day looking for another Riad. Blundering along somewhat blindly along the lanes north of the square, I knocked on a fancy looking door and was greeted by a lady who breathlessly informed me that the entire cast of “Sex and the City” were staying at her Riad and were sleeping at the moment, having worked through the night until 5 in the morning. Having informed her of my budget she told me that I was unlikely to find anything at that price north of the square, but had a friend called Phillipe who owned a few Riads and might be able to help. She took me outside and pointed in a general direction as to where I might find him, but after ten minutes walking I realized there was no way I was going to find him or the Riad. Luckily a local kid came to my help and guided me down a winding narrow street, taking numerous turns until we came to a place called Riad Bibtia. The place seemed strangely empty and a tad run-down but the layout, furniture and tiles seemed to have an authentic Moroccan feel, plus the managers seemed helpful and the view from the rooftop spectacular. I promptly booked four nights for my brother and three for us. It was a difficult place to get back to: we got lost finding Riad Bibtia the first three or four times and took it in turns to lead the way back for practice.

That evening, after dinner on the square, we decided to try a ride on a caleche (horse and cart). Since there seemed to be a queue of about fifty caleches, we started at the front and were quoted an outrageous price for a 45 minute ride. As we worked our way to the back, the price got lower and eventually someone with excellent English and good manners persuaded us. The ride turned out to be surprisingly smooth and enjoyable despite the traffic, and we got a good tour around the western perimeter.

Next morning after an excellent breakfast at Riad Bibtia, I made the 20 minute bus journey from Djmaa El Fnaa to the airport to meet my brother, Nick, arriving from London. The Marrakesh airport is spectacularly new and modern, making Los Angeles airport look mediaeval by comparison. The bus was clean and efficient too, and it wasn’t until we reached the outskirts of the airport that my brother probably started to feel the first pangs of culture shock. Since we’d been ten days in Morocco and used to eating in budget places without a/c, we had to adjust our expectations upwards for a couple of days until we got in sync; lunch was an expensive Italian restaurant on the square.

Carmen arranged for dinner to be made and served at the Riad that evening. After listening to the call to prayer on the rooftop around 5:35, we went for a walk on the square to get some orange juice, spicy tea and watch the action. At 7p.m. Riad Bibtia served us traditional, very delicious Moroccan food including couscous (“Moroccan pasta” some people call it, or perhaps better might be “chicken of the desert”) and chicken marinated in a rich sauce with apricots.

The next day on our walk round the medina, we happened upon the shooting of a scene for “Sex and the City II”, and saw the famous foursome shoot several takes of a scene where they dash off to buy a watch in a souk. The heavily staged backdrop and supporting actors in the scene were clearly from Saudia Arabia or some Middle Eastern country however, not Morocco. The supporting film crew told everybody to be quiet just before each scene and as we pulled back into a market stall to watch, I asked the owner of the stall what he thought. He told me he didn’t like the film being shot in Marrakesh because it was to do with sex, however he was being paid $100 a day by the film crew, presumably because of loss in revenue from closing the street to motorized traffic.

Back to Meknes via Moulay Idriss

A couple of days later we boarded the train for a looong seven hour ride back to Meknes. As we approached Meknes, we were in an open carriage and I could see the conductor arguing with someone. The man he was arguing with was very animated and excited, gesticulating wildly. The conductor went away for a few minutes and returned with reinforcements and the situation became physical when they tried to put him in handcuffs. The man then somehow managed to pull the emergency chord and jump off the train before it ground to a halt. There were lots of villagers nearby who came to watch, and people in the train poked their heads out as several officials chased down and apprehended the man, at one point accidently pulling his trousers and flip flops off as he struggled against them. By the time they hauled him back on the train, ten minutes had passed. We were only a few minutes from Meknes station, where they escorted him to a police van.

We got off also and negotiated a Grandes taxi to take us to Moulay Idris, a thirty minute drive away from Meknes. Moulay Idris is another World Heritage site and until recently non-muslims were not permitted to spend the night. It turned out to be a beautiful town in the hills, with white houses, steep streets in the style of an Alpujarran village, like those we had seen recently in southern Spain. Apparently, the locals say that five pilgrimages to the town of Moulay Idriss to visit his mausoleum is equivalent to one haj in Mecca. Moulay Idriss is the great-grandson of the Prophet Mohammed and fled persecution in Baghdad to settle in Volubilis nearby, where he converted the locals to Islam.

We found a room at Hotel Moulay Diyar Timnay, which had a very comfortable “triple” room, excellent tea, as well as good food and a view from the rooftop restaurant. Stepping outside the hotel, taking a right past the Grandes taxi stand, there is a fruit and meat market of much higher quality and cheaper than can be found in the cities. Going past the main square in front of the mosque, you ascend into a maze of steep alleyways and it is easy to lose sense of direction. We went to take a look at some of the Riad hotels later and some of them were quite difficult to find, but well worth staying in as well. There is a Riad called Buttons Inn, which is associated with the Café Clock in Fez that looked particularly good on the website; we rang the doorbell several times, but no one answered, so not sure about the service! Moulay Idriss doesn’t have a lot of other tourists and the alleyways were quiet and peaceful at night -- not something we were very used to seeing in the cities. The boys ran around in the square in front of the mosque and this helped to dispel some excess energy. Some local kids were already running around and tried to involve Toby and Ethan to no avail.

After a fitful night of interrupted sleep, we set off for Volubilis, an ancient Roman ruin built in the first or second century AD, and another World Heritage Site. The site is quite spectacular and has an impressive triumphal archway, a capitol and a number of pillars and interesting mosaics. The boys had a enjoyable time climbing up and along the ruined walls, much of which had been plundered for building palaces in Meknes. We were very inspired by the impressive columns and courtyards -- at least what was left of them.

Despite it being winter, the boys needed a rest after an hour of wandering around and we retired to the onsite café for some mint tea. We left Volubilis around 1 p.m. with the intention of catching the train to Fez at 2:15. After a quick McDonalds stop for the boys, we arrived at the train station and waited. The train was half an hour late, but we had built in a good window to catch our flight back to Girona, Spain, but then the taxi got stuck in traffic because it was rush hour and ended up taking half an hour longer than we anticipated. We checked in but found we had to repack our bags to meet the baggage allowance limitation. Finally, we got through security to our gate and waited. And waited some more. No announcement was made, but the Ryan Air flight was about an hour late by the time we took off. We arrived in Girona hungry and tired, but happy to be back in a familiar environment where transport mostly runs on time…

Posted by chris at 05:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)