Arrived by Train in Varanasi, the city on the banks of the Ganges that has been the spiritual heart of India for several thousand years.
The river bank is lined with Ghats, steep stone steps edging steeply down towards the river. It's difficult to imagine that in a few months all these steps will be underwater as the monsoon floods hit the city.
It's a good city to die in, if you are Hindu, as it means you can break part of the cycle of endless rebirth and edge towards nirvana. Around 80 bodies are cremated each day on the Ghats, each funeral pyre taking around 3 hours to burn. It;s fascinating watching the ceremonies take place, with the bodies being first immersed in the Ganges before being laid on the pyre.
Further along, people are bathing in the river to cleanse their sins. Given the city still pumps raw sewage into the river, cleansing may not be the word.
In the evening I got rowed out to witness the daily ceremony of Aarti, where Braman priests conduct ceremonies with fire and smoke before a devoted audience. The river is chock full of boats all containg either devotees or tourists. Hawkers step from boat to boat with offerings or snacks to sell. It's a mad chaotic spectacular that feels very magical.
Took the bus up to Lucknow, capital of Utter Pradesh. Bus was very efficent but the auto-rickshaw ride the other end was interesting. Dispite promising he knew where the hotel was, the driver had no idea, so we careered through the streets with me leaning over his shoulder holding my iPhone for him to follow the directon on google maps.
Lucknow has several interesting sigthts, including the former British Residency, which in 1857 came under seige during the Indian uprising. Over 6000 were killed and many lie in the cemetary adjouring the site. The building has been left as it was at the end of the seige, with the walls pockmarked with bullet and cannon ball holes.
Another building is the elaborate tomb of a local Holy man, the Bara Imambara. Upstairs is a labyrinth where many narrow corridors lead eventually up onto the roof. It was worth the climb for a great view over the city.
Walking back as always is an adventure, not helped by the limited pavement being full of traders of all varieties, forcing you to walk in the road.
Wednesday, March 15, 2017
Some sites just defy description and the Taj Mahal must be one. Poet Rabindranath Tagore described it as a tear drop on the cheek of eternity, standing on the edge of the Yamaha river. It is of course a tomb, the final resting place of Mumtaz Mahal, the third wife of Shah Jahan, who died bearing her 14th child, probably of exhaustion. He erected the massive mausoleum to her memory at a vast cost. The 1000 rupee entry fee for foreigners is obviously an attempt to recover some of the money.
Shar Jahan ended his days imprisoned in the Agra Fort after being deposed by his son, spending his days gazing downriver at his creation. The fort itself has some amazing buildings and would win many plaudits were it not overshadowed by its more famous rival just down the river.
Despite its heavy tourist impact, Agra is a very pleasant city with lots of green space to sit and enjoy the sun. Lots of families out enjoying the end of the holiday and many impromptu cricket matches going on. Poor India, as if the place was not confusing enough the British gave them cricket..
Today is the holiday of Holi. The main way to mark the holiday is to cover yourself and your friends with brightly coloured packets of paint powder. So almost everyone is walking around looks as if they have had an argument with the Homebase's, mix your own paint machine. Managed to avoid a few close shaves, including a close encounter with a water bomb.
The train I caught from Delhi to Agra starts in the foothills of the mountains and ends in Puna some 2000Km away. It takes forty hours to travel the whole route, making my 3 hour trip rather insignificant. Maybe the managers of southern rail should come out here for a masterclass on how to run a train.
Agra is a lot greener than I remembered it, with a peaceful park in the centre. It's the Taj everyone comes to see though. Some 3 million visitors a year. Twice the population of the city.
Getting used to the chaos that engulfs you whenever you set foot outside the front door. I say chaos but there is an elegant symmetry to everything, as despite the shear randomness of cars, rickshaws and people, plus the odd cow, flinging themselves together in some mad scramble, everyone seems to get to where they need to be. Even if they wear out several hooters on the way.
One respite from the chaos exists at the tranquil Ghats on the riverbank, where great leaders were consigned to the flames and to the pages of history. Raj Ghat is the biggest and is the site of the cremation of Mahatma Gandhi.
One of the newer temples is the Arkshadham, over the river in the eastern suburbs . It's a vast complex with some impressive carvings and has more than a touch of Disneyland, with boat rides taking you through a series of animatronics telling the life of the Ghru. No cameras or phones allowed, so you have to take my word for it.
Visited the tomb of Humayun, one of the great Mughal Emperors and the prototype for the Taj Mahal. It certainly is an amazing building. Photos were allowed here, so I took a few.
Walking back i took a shortcut across the playing fields surrounding the India Gate, and straight through the middle of about 20 cricket matches all being played simultaneously on the same pitch. Now I don't much like being on a field where 1 cricket match is being played, let alone 20. Let's just say there were balls flying from every direction.
Sunday is obviously the day to being your kids out in their radio motorised cars, to whiz around the monument. Although to be honest I say lots of middle aged men playing, with the kids more interested in getting a ballon.
Sunday, November 20, 2016
Back on the coast and in Marseille, a large city on the edge of the ocean, and like most seaside towns, one with an air of seediness about it.
It's surprisingly hilly with the station perched above the town giving a glorious view across the rooftops as you arrive. Across the valley on another hill stands the cathedral of Notre-Dame de la Garde, built on an Ancient Fort and therefore commanding attention from all over the city. It's quite a slog up and people tend to enter with their knees trembling. Not from any particular awe at the wonderment on the holy place but more a realisation they they aren't as fit as they thought.
Took the ferry out to the Frioul archipelago, three islands living just outside the harbour. The castle on one of the islands was the inspiration for The count of monte cristo, and his prison cell still exists. In the misleading ages the island became home to a shipwrecked rhinoceros, which became quite a tourist spectacle with Kings and emperors making trips to visit.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Now in Avignon, the city of popes that isn't Rome. The pontiffs were here in the 14th century when the papacy became a vassal of the French crown. The palace is still here dominating the town, its great stone walls towering over the cobbled lanes. The rooms inside are impressive, vast spaces now empty but for a few wandering tourists.
Not many treasures left. I guess they all got returned to Rome. There are some impressive frescos, although many were damaged when the palace was used as a military barracks just after the revolution. The palace was also home to the anti-popes, two pretenders to the papal crown who reigned in Avignon at the start of the 15th century. Not sure what happens if a pope meets an anti-pope. Maybe there is a big flash and we all become atheist. Who knows?
The city overlooks the Rhone, with its constant river traffic chugging by. Over the river is the Fort Saint-André which protect the town of Villeneuve. The old bridge over the river has long fallen down, with just the eastern spur jutting into the water. You can walk out onto it but in terms of crossing the water it falls a little short. Luckily there is a newer alternative.
The river used to be a wide fermenting babble. Now it's calm and sedate thanks to the river calming efforts up stream. Very pleasant to sit on the banks, take in the glorious autumn leaves, and see the world glide by.
Thursday, November 17, 2016
Arrived in Monaco, the worlds smallest state. At just 2 square kilometres in area you can walk from one side of the country to the other in less than an hour. Small it may be put packed full of sights. The old city sits atop of castle rock, watching over the mega yachts in the harbour below.
If you think Nice has a few yachts then Monaco will blow your mind. Great hunks of plastic and metal cluttering up the harbour and no doubt purchased of the backs of the BHS pensioners and their ilk. Most of them seemed to be empty bar a few deckhands swaying down the decks.
For such an expensive neighbourhood the harbour boasts an incredibly tacky funfair. Maybe the mega rich like to get a taste of Blackpool, as they amble ashore after a hard days relaxing.
Wednesday, November 16, 2016
Down to the French Riviera and the seaside city of Nice. Very pleasant being by the seaside, which even in November has a slightly balmy feel. The city has seen some troubles in recent months, but the atmosphere is friendly and warm. Slightly weird to see armed soldiers patrolling the seafront though.
Climbed up to Castle Hill for a glorious view over the coast. The promenade stretches for miles in a graceful curve sweeping from the town towards the airport. On the other side the harbour is chock full of expensive boats.
The city is overlooked by Mount Boron which is full of trails and viewpoints. The old fort at the top offers some wonderful viewpoints which makes the climb worthnthe effort.
