Pune is the most cosmopolitan city I have stayed in, in India. There is a distinct lack of livestock on the roads, no camel carts, no rickshaws, and hardly any bicycles. In all other towns, the ladies almost always wear saris or Indian dress, but here many are in tops and jeans, even some of the older women. Most men and boys wear western dress in the other towns I’ve seen, though I saw more in lunghis and other traditional garb in Hyderabad and Trivandrum. Here, hardly one to be seen, and a number of men are in shorts.
The houses in Pune are a mixture of the modern concrete, and old colonial; the latter being terribly run down to the point of dereliction. It seems a shame. Funny how, even though I have seen wonderful and ancient buildings, I feel a deep-down 'British' pang when I look at the old colonials. Perhaps it's my ancestors talking to me.
There is a park close to the hotel. It opens early in the morning and again in the evening. I had wandered in on Sunday during the day, only to have a whistle blown at me by the security guard. Apparently the gate had been left open and I was not allowed to be there. I was ushered out. I walked in it again on Monday evening after my meal. Alas it closed at 8.30 – a whistle was blown at me and I was ushered out again. By Tuesday I had the measure of it; early breakfast and a walk in the park. It is quite a formal affair with clipped hedges, elephant statues, a pond and a temple. There are flower beds too, some with deep-red leaved oxalis and arum, but mostly the flowers are not out. At the far end, enclosed within a low clipped hedge, there is a tank – a military tank that is – captured from the Pakistanis in 1971, and presented to the people of Pune.
Next to the hotel is an ‘unlimited thali’ restaurant. ‘All you can eat’ is a nice idea at the time, but I just cannot eat like an Indian – I never even reach the rice stage. These tiny ladies on the adjacent table seem to tuck it all away somewhere. I’ve been three times and it will be a bad idea for me to go again I think. Still it’s very popular, and was busy all day Sunday. The clients were targeted by a drum beating lady accompanied by a man and a boy with large whips. They demand money, and if you don’t give, they crack the whips over their backs. Its probably just noise, I don’t think they hurt themselves. Whatever – I’m not giving. I can withstand your pain, chaps.
My mattress seems very hard – like sleeping on a board. On the first night I got up to investigate. I am sleeping on a board, and the mattress is only just 3 inches thick. Outside the hotel, people are sleeping on the pavement without so much as a blanket under them. I’ll bear with the situation; a few days and I’ll be in my own bed, and they will still be on the pavement.
5 June 2010
A stupid thing
This is only the second hotel with tea making facilities in the room. The kettle is a tiny little thing, and spends most of its time with the flex wrapped round the base. I boiled the kettle as I have done all my life and went to pour the water in the cup. The coiled flex caught, the loose lid flew of, and boiling water flew over my right hand. I was in a bit of disarray for a while. Yes, I ran cold (ish) water over it, and could see that a triangle of skin had come away from the back of my hand. The rest was red, and I wasn’t sure about the extent of the damage. I have a bag full of first aid things, but nothing for burns – I didn’t anticipate making tea with my own skin. I only have plasters to cover it with, but don’t want to stick anything to the red part yet. This may be a problem tonight. What an idiot.
24 May 2010
Air disaster - 22nd May 2010
Grim news this morning. A plane has crashed on landing at Mangalore airport which is about 200 km away from Trivandrum, killing 158 of 166 passengers. I am flying north, and there is a big screen at Trivandrum airport with the Indian channel, CNN IBN, running it wall to wall. This is unfortunately the way news is broadcast in India from the English-speaking channels I have watched. All the speculation, all the guesswork, and interviews with people who don’t know what really happened either. This is one of Indian TVs less endearing traits – picking a story to pieces before they have all the facts. The looked at pilot error, something on the runway, the weather. It wasn’t the most cheery thing to have on in a departure lounge. They then put the names of the deceased on the ticker tape below the screen; this only 6 hours after the event. I’ve only known UK broadcasting – guess I’ve been spoilt.
Sues from Brick Lane
On my final evening in Kerala I thought I ought to have another look at the Kovalam resort and the sea, and despite the rain, and spurning the hotel’s offer of an umbrella, I tripped, literally down the steps made treacherous by the rain, which lead to the village,. Either side of these steps, more hotels are under construction, and the entire flight is covered in mud and general debris. I picked my way through the scaffold timbers, walking under the men laying wet concrete overhead. All the building materials are walked to the site from where they have been tipped on the nearest road, along narrow raised pathways which run through the coconut plantation. The aggregate is carried in the dishes that are used for all building work; on the head. Nothing is carried any great distance – the load is passed from head to head, even when halfway up a ladder.
Walking along the beach front in the warm rain; voices calling
‘Chai ma’am’
‘Something to eat, out of the rain?’
‘Want to buy…’
….., I found a kindred spirit – another Englishwoman out in the rain. Sues from Brick Lane, had been to India many times, stayed in Kovalam before, and had been here on this occasion for two months. In what time remained, she showed me around the small beaches, went to her favourite chai stalls, and she gave me the lowdown on Indian culture as viewed from the outside. We looked at the fantastic wooden fishing boats which are made a couple of miles up the coast, heavy, sturdy, with high stern and prow, and stiched together with string. She was somebody you could do with meeting during your first week, not your last. We decided we’d meet up to have one last mooch round before breakfast tomorrow, and ended the day in the dark sitting on the wet sea front trying to persuade two local dogs that we were not their friends. The gentle patter, splash of flip-flops came by and paused behind us. A voice murmured in the darkness ‘Hashish, maruana….’
Walking along the beach front in the warm rain; voices calling
‘Chai ma’am’
‘Something to eat, out of the rain?’
‘Want to buy…’
….., I found a kindred spirit – another Englishwoman out in the rain. Sues from Brick Lane, had been to India many times, stayed in Kovalam before, and had been here on this occasion for two months. In what time remained, she showed me around the small beaches, went to her favourite chai stalls, and she gave me the lowdown on Indian culture as viewed from the outside. We looked at the fantastic wooden fishing boats which are made a couple of miles up the coast, heavy, sturdy, with high stern and prow, and stiched together with string. She was somebody you could do with meeting during your first week, not your last. We decided we’d meet up to have one last mooch round before breakfast tomorrow, and ended the day in the dark sitting on the wet sea front trying to persuade two local dogs that we were not their friends. The gentle patter, splash of flip-flops came by and paused behind us. A voice murmured in the darkness ‘Hashish, maruana….’
Biotech site visits – the quest continues
.
Mr Sajidas, director of Biotech http://www.biotech-india.org/, was very welcoming, and has been most accommodating, leaving me in the care of Mr Biju, a colleague and a cameraman.
Biotech has plenty of different digesters to show me. At their offices they have non-functioning models on show. They are all the floating dome type, and most of them made of fibre glass, although some have concrete bases with either GRP or metal domes. They don’t wait for people to see the biogas light; they take their technology out on the road in a little truck. The road show goes to cities and villages, with examples and videos, posters and demos.
I have been to see digesters in domestic situations, restaurants, markets, abattoirs and orphanages. I have stuck my camera, and my nose, down the inlets to observe the introduction of such delights as vegetable waste, offal, and pre-digested meat waste, and down the outlets to view manure and processed waste water. I have looked at gardens of thriving banana and jackfruit trees, lime bushes, tomatoes and cucumber, all thanks to the application of digestate and nutritious irrigation.
All the activity was recorded on film and at the end of the field trips I had to give an interview to the cameraman. It’s all great fun – I think I’m getting the hang of it now, and its good practise for the dissemination when I return.
The interesting thing to note was, that as before in all these digesters, there is no smell, no flies.
Mr Sajidas, director of Biotech http://www.biotech-india.org/, was very welcoming, and has been most accommodating, leaving me in the care of Mr Biju, a colleague and a cameraman.
Biotech has plenty of different digesters to show me. At their offices they have non-functioning models on show. They are all the floating dome type, and most of them made of fibre glass, although some have concrete bases with either GRP or metal domes. They don’t wait for people to see the biogas light; they take their technology out on the road in a little truck. The road show goes to cities and villages, with examples and videos, posters and demos.
I have been to see digesters in domestic situations, restaurants, markets, abattoirs and orphanages. I have stuck my camera, and my nose, down the inlets to observe the introduction of such delights as vegetable waste, offal, and pre-digested meat waste, and down the outlets to view manure and processed waste water. I have looked at gardens of thriving banana and jackfruit trees, lime bushes, tomatoes and cucumber, all thanks to the application of digestate and nutritious irrigation.
All the activity was recorded on film and at the end of the field trips I had to give an interview to the cameraman. It’s all great fun – I think I’m getting the hang of it now, and its good practise for the dissemination when I return.
The interesting thing to note was, that as before in all these digesters, there is no smell, no flies.
23 May 2010
The Hill & Beach View, Kovalam
This is a lovely, funny hotel; so laid back it’s practically on the floor. On my first morning a family arrived for check in around 7.30. There was no-one on reception, and eventually, when the cleaning lady turned up, she woke one of the men, who stumbled bleary eyed to the desk, still buttoning his shirt. I found that breakfast didn’t start till 8 am, which seems late even for a holiday resort. This gives me two hungry hours, then a rush to get a taxi into Trivandrum to meet Biotech at the appointed time. Yesterday, the chap who does the breakfasts was late up too and I had to go hunting for him. In this vast and rapidly growing resort, there are not that many tourists. There are only six of us guests, rattling around in this big hotel; the family of four, and another bloke I hardly see. Although I traipse up to the rooftop restaurant, I’m the only one there, so I have the kitchen opened especially for me. The food is great here, very, very tasty. I sat in the near dark last night with a wonderful view of the resort lights, and saw a monster rat climb the wall and go onto the roof. Like many things in India, its best not to let the mind dwell too much, thinking is bad for you, don’t ever look down. Of course, it may have been a mongoose, but it looked suspiciously like the mongooses we get at home. The noise of the night drifts up to the restaurant and is incredible. I have since discovered a mongoose looks a little like a ferret, and did you know, frogs really do go ‘rivet’?
The thunder rumbles constantly, and warm rain falls hard and without warning; then stops. The dust which has plagued our lives recently is now mud, and it cakes up the grooves in my sandals, dropping out dry, in tiny dried wedges over the marble floor of my room. I left the cleaning lady a note of apology and Rs10, but she said everyone’s room was like it.
The thunder rumbles constantly, and warm rain falls hard and without warning; then stops. The dust which has plagued our lives recently is now mud, and it cakes up the grooves in my sandals, dropping out dry, in tiny dried wedges over the marble floor of my room. I left the cleaning lady a note of apology and Rs10, but she said everyone’s room was like it.
19 May 2010
The seaside resort
My latest – 9th hotel- is new. One of many new hotels in Kovalam, some way outside Trivandrum. So much for the Delhi travel agent finding me one close to Biotech, he’s just parked me with one of his mates. I could have found a closer one with a blindfold and a pin. It is a lovely hotel though, called the Hill & Sea View. Most of them are called something similar here as the resort is built on two large hills, and you can’t fail to see the sea. There are probably more hotels being built at the moment then are actually up and running.
From my balcony I actually have a view – the first view which hasn’t been a car park or the side or roof of another building. Look south and there’s a red and white painted lighthouse flashing, and look north and you see three mobile masts. Between them is the sea, and between my hotel and the sea are bananas, mangoes, and palms. It all looks like jungle India until you notice that the palms are in rows, and that this resort is being constructed on a plantation. But it looks and sounds like jungle – the racket last night of insects and monkeys. Bells ring out from the temple in the village ‘ting, ting, ting, ting, ting….’ and music plays. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but the lighthouse flashes regularly.
Mr Sajidas of Biotech isn’t able to see me at first, so I had an early morning trip to the beach, and then trying to update the blog on a dodgy, slow internet connection. Last night was another wonderful storm, and so much rain. Is this the monsoon come early? There were quite a few holidaymakers out early, and lots of fishermen. They have these great long wooden boats, very heavy, which about six men paddle. Woven panels are tented over them as they lie on the beach to keep the rain out, and all their fishing gear is similarly covered.
A group of thirty or more men were bringing in a net, like a seine net. The lines holding it were incredibly long; both ends were brought in together; the men singing to keep rhythm. The waves were breaking far out to sea and rolling right up the sands, and out there in the rough waters, three or four men were guiding the net home. As the net came ashore, you could see tiny silver fish, about the size of whitebait. Some I recognised as sandeels, the rest a mystery. When it was finally landed, I don’t know whether it was a disappointing catch or not. The men shrugged when I asked, so I presume it was average. There were about 4 crates of small fish and a dozen larger individuals. Some kind of row broke out between two or three of the older men, maybe to do with divvying up the spoils. If these were share fishermen, then they were having trouble sharing. There were a lot of men involved in the operation, a lot of effort – I wouldn’t have been happy with the result.
From my balcony I actually have a view – the first view which hasn’t been a car park or the side or roof of another building. Look south and there’s a red and white painted lighthouse flashing, and look north and you see three mobile masts. Between them is the sea, and between my hotel and the sea are bananas, mangoes, and palms. It all looks like jungle India until you notice that the palms are in rows, and that this resort is being constructed on a plantation. But it looks and sounds like jungle – the racket last night of insects and monkeys. Bells ring out from the temple in the village ‘ting, ting, ting, ting, ting….’ and music plays. I couldn’t see much in the dark, but the lighthouse flashes regularly.
Mr Sajidas of Biotech isn’t able to see me at first, so I had an early morning trip to the beach, and then trying to update the blog on a dodgy, slow internet connection. Last night was another wonderful storm, and so much rain. Is this the monsoon come early? There were quite a few holidaymakers out early, and lots of fishermen. They have these great long wooden boats, very heavy, which about six men paddle. Woven panels are tented over them as they lie on the beach to keep the rain out, and all their fishing gear is similarly covered.
A group of thirty or more men were bringing in a net, like a seine net. The lines holding it were incredibly long; both ends were brought in together; the men singing to keep rhythm. The waves were breaking far out to sea and rolling right up the sands, and out there in the rough waters, three or four men were guiding the net home. As the net came ashore, you could see tiny silver fish, about the size of whitebait. Some I recognised as sandeels, the rest a mystery. When it was finally landed, I don’t know whether it was a disappointing catch or not. The men shrugged when I asked, so I presume it was average. There were about 4 crates of small fish and a dozen larger individuals. Some kind of row broke out between two or three of the older men, maybe to do with divvying up the spoils. If these were share fishermen, then they were having trouble sharing. There were a lot of men involved in the operation, a lot of effort – I wouldn’t have been happy with the result.
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