Monsoon Goa

Spent a luxurious weekend in Goa at the Taj Village. The place is remarkably beautiful in the monsoons, lush green marked by a very violent sea. I enjoyed the monsoons immensely, walking around barefoot in pouring rain and in soft drizzles on the lovely grounds.

Desperately Seeking Monsoon

Mumbai is scorching, seething and desperate for a good shower. I too, have been praying desperately for rains, not just to get some much needed respite from the heat, but also to enjoy the monsoon trips again. I realize that I completely skipped the monsoon bliss last year, thanks to my Australian sojourn. The trifling rain visit I made was to Murud, but that was also during the pre-monsoon when rain had yet not turned on its full flow.

Mumbai is a delight to be in during the monsoons (If you could ignore the puddles and lakes on what Mumbaikars call the ’roads’). There are many places around the city which offer a lovely weekend option, as they are within driving distance.

The closest monsoon options are in the Western ghat belt which extends to North East of Mumbai. It takes only an hour’s drive from Vashi to get to Karjat, a place which has now become a popular ’farm house’  location for Mumbai dwellers. While a lot of these farm houses are private, there is an equal number of farm houses who have reformed into resorts for the nature-loving tourists. They offer modest accomodation, at not so modest prices, but have swimming pools and badminton courts to ensure a good time for their guests. Their best offering though, is open space and proximity to the green hillocks.

Very close to Karjat is Neral, the gateway for getting into Matheran. Matheran is a unique hillstation, best enjoyed during monsoons, i.e. if you are keen to have a ‘wet’ holiday. It rains almost continuously, and rains heavily. There are no cars allowed in this small station, and your only means of transport are your feet or horses (Stop imagining yourself galloping to the winds, it is a sedate walk, very painful to certain parts of the body! Choose to walk, and you will have a grand day. On monsoon weekends, expect a lot of people. But that is not to say that you will not be able to find nice quiet corners to enjoy the ghats.

Then there is much talked about twin-pack: Khandala-Lonavala. A lovely place in the monsoons if you skip its popular places and points. Just take off on any of the green hill by yourself and you will have a much better time. Or go to one of those exclusive resorts which have a hillock in their backyard – so you can enjoy scaling the heights and the rains, and not be disturbed by unbehaved mass of loafers. Personally I prefer Khandala much more to Lonavala, which is loud, crowded and unruly. I love the Khandala Station, and also to watch the track from the hillocks. Trains meandering through the lush green valley is a beautiful sight.

My favorite, so far has been Igatpuri – a small hillstation on the Mumbai-Nashik highway. It takes on a lovely charm during the monsoons, esp with its very low bridges, and the wavy tracks. There is the lovely Igatpuri Tal on the way to the temple, not very far from the only two resorts in the area. It is not very well known, and is perfect for a quiet day.

Not far from Igatpuri is Bhandardhara, also famous for its lake. It is another of the quiet, secluded, relatively lesser known destinations to enjoy the monsoons. But like Igatpuri, the stay options are restricted.

If you are one of those, who enjoy the monsoon sea, I will highly recommend the white sand beaches of Murud and Kashid. The drive from Kashid to Murud goes along the sea, through the hills, and is one of the loveliest drives I have enjoyed in India.

Then there always is Goa – the ultimate place for partying, which is, contrary to popular belief, absolutely loveable in the monsoons. The sea is rough, so the shacks and beachside activity is ruled out. But you can always enjoy watching the turbulent sea from the Fort Aguada, or sit atop any of the cliffs and enjoy the rain. It is also perfect to swim with showers above – though certainly not in the sea

Talking about all this, and I am again homesick for the rains. Rain Gods, please be merciful.

Kanha and Tigers

This account continues from the previous entry.

What our guide had spotted, when viewed with the binoculars, did turn out to be a tiger. And of all pleasant surprises, this tiger seemed to be headed in our direction. So far other gypsies had been unaware of its presence, but out activity alerted them, and before we knew, there were 15 safaris tracking this tigers every move.

Walking at a leisurely, unconcerned, regal gait, the tiger came up to the road, and crossed over to the other side of the meadows. That 15 safaris were lined up for its welcome, with at least 50-60 cameras furiously clicking away, was absolutely lost to the king. He walked leisurely near the road, stopping at a tree for marking, not even bothering the few deers who lay low.

After a while, the tiger decided to cross back where it came from. But before it crossed the road, it decided to walk a bit on the road. It was an amazing site, a tiger walking beautifully on a road, followed by 15 safaris driving at their slowest speed.

Finally, it crossed over, and people reluctantly started towards the gate. The gates close at 6:45 in the evening, and if you don’t reach in time, your guide gets penalized. But the whole walk lasted for about 20 minutes and was remarkable.

The next day, encouraged by our previous day’s experience, we promptly got up. After enjoying another sunrise, we headed towards the Kanha meadows. It is around this area that the jewel of Kanha resides – the Indian antelope or the Barasingha. Kanha is the only place where barasinghas can be found, and they are being now protected due to their dwindling population.

This morning, we came to know that a tiger had been spotted around Kisli, which meant we could enjoy a ‘tiger show’. We quickly went to the gate and got into a queue for tiger viewing. We were 16th in the queue, and it was more than half an hour of idle wait. Then, the forest guards told our driver the location of the show, and on reaching there, we sat on elephants and went just next to a resting tiger. I can’t even begin to explain how the experience was – the tiger was majestic, and was posing beautifully for the photographs. I was only sorry that I couldn’t get rid of the tall twigs and grass.

The elephants seem disinterested in the tiger, and the tiger reciprocates the indifference.

We were told that another tiger had been spotted at a watering hole. After the tiger show was over, we rushed to this place, which was atleast 25 min away by drive. However, despite waiting for more than half an hour, we could not site this elusive guy – he was near the water, but in a hidden spot.

Anyways, after seeing a few more antelopes, we returned. The evening safari was spent in pretty much the same way, until we hit a place where apparently a leopard had been seen. Excited, we got there – and there it was a leopard drinking water! It is such a small creature compared to the tiger, and much faster. Unlike the tiger, this one noticed the row of safaris and took immediate flight. The light was not good enough for a good photo, but here is what we could get.

In our last safari next morning, we went to a completely different area. This was a part we hadn’t seen so far. This was hilly terrain, mostly bamboo trees, and completely arid. In later parts, we also came across a large landscape which had recently been under forest fire. Though we didn’t see any of the ferocious cats, we nevertheless quite enjoyed this safari for the pretty forest and relative quiet (we didn’t see even a single safari throughout).

After this safari, it was time to go back. We had a quick shower and set out to Nagpur.

It was an unforgettable experience. Though Himalyas still remain my beloved destination, I will definitely return to the jungle in at least one trip this year.

Wilderness: Kanha National Park

It was a sudden decision to go to Kanha. Infact, only a reaction to the impending long weekend and the prospect of a readymade trip. A friend was going with her colleagues, and they had pre-booked everything with room to spare. So we tagged on. Of course, the prospect of seeing a tiger was exciting, but after hearing numerous disappointing accounts from National park travelers, I was not so sure if that would happen. But then Kanha is a park with a high density of tigers (89 in an area of 800 sq km).

To reach Kanha, we could either go via Jabalpur or Nagpur. Since there are no flight connections from Mumbai to Jabalpur, we flew to Nagpur, and hired an Innova from there to take us to Kanha. We were to stay at MPTDC’s Baghira cottages, which are inside the park. However, the park does not allow entry after 10 pm, and after repeated requests, we were able to convince them to stretch it to 11pm.  We started from Nagpur at around 5:30, and were not at all sure if we would make it in time.

Before beginning the road trip, we stopped in Nagpur to pack some food and water. After living in Mumbai, I am sometimes surprised by how neat and efficient the smaller towns of India look. Wider roads, nice rows of independent houses, slightly manageable traffic. Mumbai, in its current state cannot even hope for that level of maintenance.

Anyways, we did not get any food – no place could get dinner ready before 7, lunch was long over. Dejected, we moved on.  Only very soon to be stopped at a railway junction. How could I have forgotten the railway crossings and how important it was to cross them at strategic times!  After half hour of anxious waiting, we finally could go ahead. The route onwards was reasonably good, except for a few patches between Sioni and Nainpur which were very rough. But these were only about 30-40 km in all.

We reached Kanha almost at 11 – thanks to the enterprising drive from our driver. Kanha has two main entrances, Kisli and Mukki. Our resort was about half a km into the reserve area, near the Kisli gate. As soon as you enter the gates, the forest takes over and the outer world begins to fade. Phone signals go off, EDGE networks die, and the breeze is laden with the smell of trees. And as we stopped at Baghira, we were greeted by a deer, staring at us with curiosity and apprehension.

We had already booked five safaris for the next three days. The morning safari began at 5:30 in the morning (a rude shock to the lazy weekender in me).  However, it is always refreshing to see the sun rise, especially  if it is behind a morning forest. The predominant color of the forest was an arid brown, streaked with yellow. Amidst these, the gold of deers was beautiful, so was the black of bysons who moved with their own dash of white (egrets). The safari is done in an open gypsy, so you can freely enjoy the air and view.

In our impatience to see a tiger, we waited at three different watering holes to catch a glimpse, hoping that the heat will drive him to water. In vain. All we see was more deers and monkeys. By the time the safari ended at 11, we were exhausted with the heat and thirsting for water ourselves.

In the evening safari, we headed towards a different section of the forest. This was close to the Kanha meadows. On the way is a bridge which overlooks one of the most prominent water haunt of Kanha. Here the evening confluence was on. Many animals had come to beat the heat – wild boars, deers, barking deers, bysons, sambhars, and some lovely birds. The highlight was the kingfisher, which is such a pretty bird.

After spending considerable time at the bridge, we went towards the meadows. On the way we met an even prettier bird, the blue jay bluebird (see above). I was completely enamored with it, it is so serene and graceful.

In a great stroke of luck, we also were able to see an action-packed hunting scene: a wild dog chasing a pack of deers. The deers were running in all directions, visibly overtaken by panic. Surprisingly, this wild dog was alone; wild dogs usually chase in packs.

We started back, with the intention of going to the bridge again, waiting to see if the tiger would get lured by the abundant food there, not to mention the water. However, we didn’t even need to go to the bridge this time. Our very observant guide spotted a moving figure far into the distance.

I think I will leave more for a follow-up post

Picnic at Hanging Rock

A few months ago I watched a beautiful and mystifying movie from Peter Weir, called Picnic at Hanging Rock. The film had the charm of Boyd’s handiwork with the camera, but it was also impressive because of its depiction of Australian bush and the uneasiness it instils. After spending sometime in Australia over the past year, I can hardly claim to be unmoved by the eerieness of Australian countryside, even though I remain largely unimpressed with most of its cities. There is tremenduous amount of space in this country, which throws off almost everyone who comes from nations of huddled people. Sometime back, I had quoted a dialogue from Chatwin’s Songlines, and those words always remain with me when traversing the bushland here:

“Pity we didn’t get here first”
“We, the Russians?”
“Not only Russians”, he shook his head, “Slavs, Hungarians, Germans even. Any people who could cope with wide horizons. Too much of this country went to islanders. They never understood it. They’re afraid of space.”

Last weekend, I went to Hanging Rock,the place that inspired an Australian to write a book and another one to make the mysterious movie I mentioned above.  It is a place that carries a history far older than the one Europeans created on this continent. Formed by a special kind of volcanic eruptions called mamelon six million years ago, the rock provides a good ground for geological studies. Part of the Macedon ranges in Victoria, the place is about one and half hour’s drive from Melbourne.

You dont have to drive too far from an Australian city to feel its vastness. The tall buildings quickly give way to open lands which are left almost uninhabited.How the cities themselves come about to be so crowded and ordinary is something I find hard to understand.

Hanging Rock lies inside the Hanging Rock reserve, which contains a race course, walking tracks and a huge picnic ground with barbeques and picnic tables. It is easily a loveable picnic spot, for the wide space it offers combined with the additional opportunity of rock exploration. There is also a lovely cafe (with the most sumptuous home-made muffins!)

There are a few walking tracks around. We followed the Summit track, which goes up to the summit of Hanging Rock and gives a good view of the scenery. As is typical of Australian tourism, the track is marked with N points. I think they kill the charm of a place in their overzealousness to name everything and convert it to a dot on the map.  The track loops up to the summit, and on the way up there are lovely and mysterious rock formations. Despite the fact that there were many picnicers, the place had an overpowering sense of silence. It seemed people spoke in soft tones or whispers, perhaps in awe of the rocks.  At a lot of places, I could imagine the scenes from the movie playing. This day was quite unlike that other in the movie, the only thing in common were the clouds, the very blue sky and the odd-colored rocks.

Along the way, the rocks merge and form crevices and narrow paths in many places. Paths which seem inviting, which the young school girls would have found irresistible.  The rock formation hangs awkwardly in the middle of vast open fields and bushes, which are then lined by hills from the Macedon ranges. The view from the summit is beautiful, especially as the high monliths suddenly give way to the surrounding scenery. The bush looks curious, esp as the shadow of the clouds casts an unsettling pattern of light and shade.

After spending some time at the summit, we climbed down, this time taking the steps. The actual rock from which the place gets its name is a huge rock hanging between two rocks.

It is said that the place provided a shelter to many bushrangers during the gold rush of 1800’s. Many people believe that rock to have some intense aboriginal significance and attribute some mysterious powers to it.  It is not hard to imagine the natives being awed by the high rocks in middle of bushes and thinking of it as magical.Perhaps there is magic, but the ones who believed in it have been chased into nolands by the conquerers. Australians often like to claim that the aborigines are irresponsible, greedy and lazy. They would have done nothing and Australia would be a bushland if it was not for the European settler. Perhaps it is true. But perhaps it would not have been a worse alternative. Who has the right to cast fates, who is to say that civilization as we know it is better than the land of walkabout.

On the way back we stopped at Woodend for a late late lunch. It is a charming small town, almost like a small European city.  Beautiful, and almost quaint with its gardens and churches.

Melbourne Diaries: Fireworks

A weekend on the Ocean Road

On my last trip to Melbourne, I came to know about the Great Ocean Road for the first time. Since then, it has been on my mind. I wanted to go there at the end of my Brisbane stint, but got too homesick and went back to India. Part of my eagerness to do my current assignment was to get a chance to go to the Great Ocean Road.

So on my first long weekend here, I planned to do just that. Some of my friends and colleagues from Sydney drove all the way to Melbourne to join the trip, and once they were well – rested, we set out towards the Ocean Road. I have rarely done any journeys in Australia with a large group, so a group of 7 travelers was a refreshing change.

We began at about 11 in the morning, and drove all the way to Torquay, which is better known as the surfing capital of Australia. The colorful sprawl of surfs and sails in the blue ocean, visible even from a distance seemed to affirm this status. We stopped for a while at the visitor’s information center – to pick up the directions,  maps and brochures. We were given a suggested itinerary, something we gleefully accepted. This I have realized, to do a harmonious trip with a large group, either you need one assertive leader, or an external guidance. For us, this list served as the latter (we had too many of the assertive ones perhaps).

After Torquay, the drive is almost entirely along the ocean, and is enthralling. Our first stop was Pt Addis – and I now remember it as the one least visited. We met very few people there, and thus ended up spending most of the time. Point Addis is a national park, which extends on the coast between  Bells Beach and Anglessea. Eroded sandstone cliffs line the coast opposite the National Park. We went to one of the lookouts, which offered a great view of both the cliffs and the ocean.

From there, we went to the Anglessea golf club, which is a sprawling golf ground. However, the ground has many kangaroos who can be seen lazying around in the sun, a sight I have never had before.

We traveled a bit further from the Anglessea to Aireys Inlet, which is a settlement centered around Split Lighthouse. I have never failed to mention my fascination for lighthouses, but I do think that Australian lighthouses are too modern to capture the imagination. This one too, was gleaming and shiny, so far removed from the deserted, haunting houses left alone to brave some violent sea.  I nevertheless liked the place for its ocean views, especially some misty hills in the distance.

We then went on to Lorne, a pretty city set by a river. We stopped there for lunch and then a dip in the sea. The city was idyllic, specially in its weekend stupor. Everything was composed and serene, even the slightly rough sea did nothing to disturb that peace.

From Lorne, we did not take any stops untill we reached our campsite. We crossed Apollo Bay, then entered the Otway National Park, and drove all the way to river Aire. This campsite does not require a permit, so we were expecting more people than on a usual site. However, we were not at all prepared for what we saw – the campsite was completely full! We took a few moments to get disappointed and do a frantic search – all of which did result in a decent stop. But as soon as we started pitching the tents, a woman came out of the neigbouring tent and requested us to keep our voices down as she was trying to put her kids to sleep. And this was 7 in the evening!

We cound not find another spot for pitching tents, but we did find a place to enjoy the evening away from the ‘disturbing’ tent. We took our beers and sanwiches to the bridge on the river and sat down to enjoy the evening. From then on, everything was lovely. We chatted, ate, drank and shivered. It was chilly and we were nearly unprepared. The tents close by were also partying late, and the night was filled with laughter, chatter and melodies. And a zillion stars. That night, I slept outside the tents and stared into the sky for hours. It was a pristine moment, and was as precious as it sounds.

The next morning, we woke up a little late and then went walking on a trail. The trail led to a lookout from where we could see the river merging into the sea.

We drove on, after a quick round of eating bread. A few stops, and then straight to Port Campbell. I was eager to see the twelve apostles. And then they were. As majestic as I thought they would be. And a pretty site. A few of them have fallen and they are no longer 12, perhaps even the remaining ones too will not last too long.  I would like to see them in the golden tint of sunset, that is why I want to make this trip again.

Another beautiful destination was Loch and Gorge, where there were many beautiful cliff formations: the archway, the elephant rock. All of them stand solitary, alienated and braving, and with all their destruction still seem daunting.

We stayed there for a while, went to Port Campbell for a late late lunch (we were all starving by then!), and sat at its tiny, weedy beach for a while. On the way back, we stopped at the Apollo Bay beach – what a lovely beach for bathing. Calm with gentle waves that you can ride, without feeling intimidated.

The entire Ocean is supposed to have some historical and aboriginal significance. And yet, like everywhere else that I have been to in Australia, I found no mark of the aborigine.

Melbourne Diaries: War Memorial

To mark a war, that marked the world.

Melbourne Diaries: Train Journeys

Southern Cross Station

This weekend I made my first long-distanced train journey in Australia. It always surprised me that despite a train network laid out by the British, I never heard anyone in Australia mention the train routes. So, I decided to gain a first hand experience, and now know the reason for its relative obscurity.

To begin, I was traveling from Melbourne to Sydney, which is a distance of 875 km. Something like 9 hours for a road trip.  You would assume that on a train you could make the journey in say 8 hours. Well – no, the countrylink, the Australian railway service, says 11 hours is their standard time for the journey. Please note the word Standard.

I reached the Southern Cross station in time, expecting the general punctuality that I have come to expect from any service provider who does not follow the standard time of desh. I was trying not to get annoyed when the train reached even later than the scheduled departure, and then went through a process of quick cleaning – may be it was cleaning, but it sure as hell was not quick.  The train had only about 8 coaches – too few , I think, especially since it is one out of the only two trains in a day which connect two of Australia’s most prominent cities.

After almost an hour, we were allowed to enter the esteemed coach. Being from India, I was expecting something like a sleeper. In a worse case, I assumed the arrangement would be similar to those French trains where so many seats are empty that you can easily stretch your legs and doze off. I was wrong on both counts. May be I just have wrong standards.

What presented itself was, instead, a set of reclining seats aka Shatabdi. Imagine an overnight Shatabdi, where you pay much more, do not get food, and have a restricted incline. (Do Shatabdi’s recline? I seem to have forgotten). The chair barely reclined and the footrest did not stay where you wanted it to (you had to keep it pressed with your feet – like an endless struggle for assertion). In short, all ingredients for a restless night. To top it all, the train did not move to a fast lulling motion. It was shaky, alright – just not in a comfortable way. For the first time, I missed the comfort of  Indian Railways and Lalu’s efficiency. (I wouldn’t even go so far as to compare this service with the European network, that would be blasphemous!).

There were a few positives, sure. The ease of booking and finding reservation – well no one travels the route, so that is explicable. Reservation was easily done online in a couple of minutes. On the train, there was an overnight buffet providing meals and drinks, which ran through most of the journey, even at late night. And on the few stations that it did stop, the train did so quietly. 10 minutes before the stop was due, attendants came stealthily with a small light and woke up the passengers who had to alight. I found the system polite and thoughtful.

The small stations themselves: I was amazed that anyone got down there. I always think of Australia as a bunch of few big cities interspersed with vast empty spaces. To realize that there were small towns in these spaces, even accessible by train was educational. I could hardly see any settlement around those stations (but that could be just the darkness).

The train arrived Sydney almost 2 hours late – on the return the delay was even more. They sighted re-routing due to track work as the reason, but I think the services are plain inefficient. That explains why most people avoid them, even when the alternative (flight) is expensive. I do not think I am going to try them again – not unless they are thinking of upgrading, to the French TGV for instance? Countrylink , are you linking? I mean listening?

Melbourne Diaries: Tennis

I have almost never followed tennis, but with the Australian Open happening right here in Melbourne, it is hard to completely ignore it. It crops up everywhere – on the drive to office, lunch conversations, tea-room tid-bits. So when they were screening the Finals on a big screen at the heart of city center (Federation Square), I joined in the spectator crowd to enjoy the pulse.

It was a very nice evening, especially with the soaring temperatures of last week now abated, and the whole city coming out in celebration. The tennis itself was very good, stretching to five sets, and each set running for good lengths. It was a pity to see Federer lose – he was the local favorite.