DPCC WORLD TOUR FOR ONE

Farewell Meal in Chorlton, Manchester on the night of 6th May with good friends

Rihali

Left on the 6th May and met Rihali on the train from Todmorden to Manchester. She was from Kenya and her mum from Mumbai. She gave me some tips about Mumbai and it made me feel my journey had already started.

My Time in India

I only spent a few days in India as it was out of season and the monsoons were coming. I arrived in Mumbai around 1.00am of the 8th May 2008 - it took some time to locate a taxi but the drive to the hotel was an experience - loads of beggars sleeping rough right on the kerb - hundreds of cats, dogs and rats all fighting for territory and ensuring they are not the next meal for the other species.

Mumbai

Very dirty, noisy, hot, sometime smelly and sweaty place. Found decent restaurant that gave fenugreek after a meal as a mouth freshener - never heard of that before.

Rip off

Thought I would go to Natural History Museum (Prince Charlie sponsored) for a bit of culture. It was advertised as 20 rupee entrance for an Indian and 300 rupee for a foreigner. My individual protest was not to go in. You kind of know that as a tourist we would be ripped off but this is so blatant and left a bad feeling with me. If they had just not advertised the costs and I was told at the door it would be 300 rupee I probably would have paid it (around 80 rupee to the pound)

Rat

I did not find Mumbai a very attractive place - apologies to all the people who like or come from Mumbai and I’m sure there are some nice parts. One of the things that put me off was treading on a live rat in the middle of the day in a very crowded street. Like treading on a rat in Market Street, Manchester on a Saturday afternoon.

Laundry

Got a taxi to show me the sights of Mumbai and the best he came up with was an outside massive laundry - see piccy on the left.

Goa

Took an overnight bus to Goa on the 10th May 2008. Journey took 15 hours. I was the only foreigner and was put next to an old Indian Lady who had been travelling on a coach for 3 days and 2 nights with her son and family to get to their destination. She took great delight in falling asleep and tumbling over me and my sharp elbows were the only weapon that prevented her totally crushing me.

Indian Drivers

The drivers in India are complete barmpots. Not only do they use the horn constantly but on all major roads they overtake everywhere - blind bends, brows of hills, narrow roads. They just press the horn and go expecting everybody else to get out of the way. This included the coach driver from Mumbai (it was the same driver for 15 hours - needs a bit of H & S from England I feel) with around 50 passengers abroad - absolute nutter. On the windscreen read “Jesus is the Way,” it may the only way to keep alive on those roads. Arrived in Mapusa around 10.00am of the 11th and realised I had been there before in 1996 - remember buying this fruit that tasted like apple and custard.

Arpora

Stopped at a nice hotel in Arpora, North Goa. I was the only foreigner staying there but everybody was nice. Met an Indian doctor and his family - very nice people. The doctor worked on aids research in Mumbai and said that 35% of the Indian population had aids. Also, that some witchdoctors or shaman type practitioners have been known to cure aids.

Palolem

Hired a jeep and went to Palolem beach, South Goa. South Goa has prettier countryside than the north and I enjoyed the journey. Indian drivers hated me as I kept to the speed limits and never overtook unless it was very safe. I got honked at more than once but I put on my best I’m not bovvered face, stared ahead and continued. I visited Palolem in 1996 when nothing was there other than beautiful white sandy beaches and about a dozen beach huts. Now its full of stalls, restaurants, hotels, guest houses and hundreds of beach huts but it still looked beautiful.

Anjuna

Again Anjuna beach is busier than 1996 but there is still the same pressure to buy stuff. One of the beach bars had a rock band performing - see piccy - and it was like stepping back into the early 1970’s when musicians took music so seriously and song writers were trying to write music that tried to get messages across. This band had the long hair, beards and loose fitting hippy clothes and 15 minute guitar solos. I sat at a table next to a group of men and women who I guess were in their 50’s, who probably went to Anjuna when Slade and Sweet were kings and have never left. The ladies still dressed in mini skirts, crop tops that they have probably been wearing since the 70’s. The guys with them were no better, ill fitting cropped trousers and t shirts that did nothing to hide their beer bellies. These people seemed to be in a time warp. I had to go to the nearest Internet cafe to make sure that I was still in 2008 and hadn't gone through a time tunnel.

Decision Time

On the 16th May I was wondering what to do. I had in mind going to Kerala but found out that the monsoons had started and my idea was to do some scuba diving off Lakshadweep but that had closed until later in the year. Next was a visit to Jaipur, Rajasthan but bombs had just gone off and the aids doctor advised that it would be best not to go yet. Nepal’s rainy season had started as well. Around the beginning of June, Goa would have their rainy season and it can be solid rain for weeks at a time. So, I decided to make my way to Thailand. My decision was also exacerbated by some English idiots I met in Goa.

English Idiots

I met this guy from Bolton who lived in Calangute, North Goa and he was nothing more than a loudmouthed fat drunk who was extremely rude to everyone when in drink - he shouted and screamed at any beggar who came his way. Beggars for me are begging usually through circumstances and would choose another way of life if they could. The worst idiot though was a Scots guy called Alan who owned a bar with his wife, Moira. The football final between Rangers (his team) and the Russian club they were playing was showing in his bar later that night. The game kicked off at 12.30am and before that they were having karoake. On arrival, I found Alan completely drunk, misty eyed and as unsteady as if he had been spun around 100 times. He was leering, slobbering and lolling over every female in the bar. There were other drunks there as well - not my sort of company. Anyway, the game had started when Alan decided that this hippy couple who were watching the game had offended him in some way and started a fight with the guy. Don’t know what it was all about, but to have the bar owner picking fights - well it’s not a bar I want to be in. When that episode was finished Alan then realised he had lost his mobile and proceeded to accuse anybody and everybody of theft. This culminated in Alan smashing up 2 plastic chairs in alcohol fuelled temper - to smash up plastic chairs takes some doing. These 2 guys represent the very worst of English travellers. They will spend no time in learning, accepting or appreciating the culture of a country its all about cheap booze and taking as much from their hosts as possible.

Indian Idiots

Another event that made my decision to leave Goa easier was seeing 2 Indians on a motorcycle stop on a bridge and empty 2 big bags of rubbish into the river.