After three trips in the previous three days, it was time for a relaxing weekend in Puri before catching the train to Madhya Pradesh on Sunday evening.
The occasional hooting from distant trains and regular tooting from the nearby street were not unbearable, but did prevent us from sleeping in for too long. We had breakfast at the Peace restaurant, where Clem had a slight accident with the salt-shaker (without my intervention, I promise), and made the most of the blazing sunshine to wash some clothes and hang them up to dry. We then hailed an autorickshaw to drive us over to Puri's principal attraction, the Jagannath Mandir.
In the late afternoon we took another stroll along the beach, where we again found some rather incongruous camels giving rides along the seashore to young children. Earlier in the afternoon we had seen a funeral procession heading down towards the beach, so it was rather unpleasant (don't read this if you are eating) to see stray dogs tearing at what appeared to be the remains of a funeral bier that bobbed in the foam where the beach met the sea. At least we had made the correct decision not to go swimming.
Thankfully our appetite was unaffected, and we had another delicious curry on the quiet terrace of the Peace restaurant. We then spent an exciting Saturday night sitting in bed with a beer watching a film on TV.
Sunday was a rest day before our 24-hour train to tiger territory. We spent most of the day online, as Clem caught up on the blog and I worked on the next unplanned section of our trip, the long journey from Delhi to Mumbai in February.
We caught a tuk-tuk over to the train station in time to catch the 9 pm train. We were in 2 AC Tier again, which was comfortable. We had one section of the carriage to ourselves all night, although we knew that at some point two more people would arrive.
We slept fairly well until around 6.30 am, when a large Ukrainian guy boarded and set himself up on the berth next door. I tried to go back to sleep, but he was making quite a ruckus. It turned out that he had managed to get on the wrong train, so was trying to find out what he could do about it. He got off at the next stop and was replaced on the berth by three soldiers armed with antiquated rifles.
I was facing the wall trying to sleep, but Clementine apparently looked sufficiently awake for the soldiers to want to talk to her. I was dozing but listening. First they explained that they were needed because we were passing through a dangerous state, Jharkand, where Naxalite (Maoist) violence was a serious problem. Clem was obviously pleased to hear this. They then asked whether I was her husband, and she very sensibly said that I was. This didn't put them off, as one of them very cheekily asked whether she had a facebook account; she said no. I found this all fairly amusing, and Clem was handling it fine. They then left to get some breakfast, but not without asking whether Clem wanted to join them. Thankfully they did not return.
We both managed to doze for another hour or so before our section was again full, this time with two parents and a five-year-old boy. The boy was unbearably noisy; everything was shouted. His parents feebly tried once or twice to ask him to tone it down, but he ignored them and they gave up. Despite the aggravation of having a small boy screaming next to us every few minutes, we managed to pass the next 12 hours by dozing, reading, and typing up our blog.
We decided against eating the hot food offered by the pantry car. We probably would have succumbed if we had not passed through a disgustingly unclean pantry car during the night on the train from Varanasi to Gaya. So that left us with only biscuits to eat all day. We felt slightly over-cautious, but were at least slightly vindicated when we were told that many Indians don't eat train food either.
Finally, at around 9 pm (miraculously only five minutes late for a 24-hour journey), we arrived at Umaria station. There we were met by Satyendra's brother, who drove us in his jeep into Bandhavgarh national park. He dropped us at Skay Tiger Camp, run by Satyendra and his wife Kay, which would be our home for the next few days.
Satyendra greeted us warmly and led us over to the gazebo, in the centre of which a fire was burning. While we sat and chatted with Satyendra dinner was brought over. Hot vegetable soup was just what we needed, and that was followed by a very tasty curry. We then withdrew to our very comfortable room, armed with two hot water bottles (why had we not thought of this before?). We then went to bed to enjoy as much sleep as possible before our wake-up cup of chai arrived at 6am the next morning.
The occasional hooting from distant trains and regular tooting from the nearby street were not unbearable, but did prevent us from sleeping in for too long. We had breakfast at the Peace restaurant, where Clem had a slight accident with the salt-shaker (without my intervention, I promise), and made the most of the blazing sunshine to wash some clothes and hang them up to dry. We then hailed an autorickshaw to drive us over to Puri's principal attraction, the Jagannath Mandir.
 |
| Salt on toast |
The tuk-tuk dropped us at the end of a street that was as chaotic as any we had seen in India, which is quite the achievement. The imposing Mandir is dedicated to Jagannath, Lord of the Universe, an incarnation of Vishnu. Unfortunately this is one of the many temples that are closed to non-Hindus, so we made our way through street-side stalls to the Raghunandan library. We sought out the library not for some quiet time with a book, but because its roof overlooking the temple has the best view in town. We paid our "donation" and made our way up several flights of stairs. From there we had a great view of the Mandir and the hellish street below, although we could not see down into the temple as well as we could at the Lingaraj Mandir in Bhubaneswar.
 |
| The entrance through which "only Hindus are allowed" |
 |
| View of the entire temple from the roof of the library |
 |
| Posing in front of the Mandir |
 |
| Gazing out at chaos from the safety of the library |
 |
| This is what happens if you read too many books |
 |
| Helpful advice |
Video of the crazy street below:
After Clem had checked out a couple of the saree shops nearby, we walked back through town towards Hotel Gandhara. On the way we stopped off at the Wildgrass restaurant, where the garden was as verdant as its name demanded. The choice was limited, but the food excellent. Back at Gandhara it was time for some admin, so we camped out at the hotel's internet cafe for the afternoon.
In the late afternoon we took another stroll along the beach, where we again found some rather incongruous camels giving rides along the seashore to young children. Earlier in the afternoon we had seen a funeral procession heading down towards the beach, so it was rather unpleasant (don't read this if you are eating) to see stray dogs tearing at what appeared to be the remains of a funeral bier that bobbed in the foam where the beach met the sea. At least we had made the correct decision not to go swimming.
Thankfully our appetite was unaffected, and we had another delicious curry on the quiet terrace of the Peace restaurant. We then spent an exciting Saturday night sitting in bed with a beer watching a film on TV.
Sunday was a rest day before our 24-hour train to tiger territory. We spent most of the day online, as Clem caught up on the blog and I worked on the next unplanned section of our trip, the long journey from Delhi to Mumbai in February.
We caught a tuk-tuk over to the train station in time to catch the 9 pm train. We were in 2 AC Tier again, which was comfortable. We had one section of the carriage to ourselves all night, although we knew that at some point two more people would arrive.
We slept fairly well until around 6.30 am, when a large Ukrainian guy boarded and set himself up on the berth next door. I tried to go back to sleep, but he was making quite a ruckus. It turned out that he had managed to get on the wrong train, so was trying to find out what he could do about it. He got off at the next stop and was replaced on the berth by three soldiers armed with antiquated rifles.
I was facing the wall trying to sleep, but Clementine apparently looked sufficiently awake for the soldiers to want to talk to her. I was dozing but listening. First they explained that they were needed because we were passing through a dangerous state, Jharkand, where Naxalite (Maoist) violence was a serious problem. Clem was obviously pleased to hear this. They then asked whether I was her husband, and she very sensibly said that I was. This didn't put them off, as one of them very cheekily asked whether she had a facebook account; she said no. I found this all fairly amusing, and Clem was handling it fine. They then left to get some breakfast, but not without asking whether Clem wanted to join them. Thankfully they did not return.
We both managed to doze for another hour or so before our section was again full, this time with two parents and a five-year-old boy. The boy was unbearably noisy; everything was shouted. His parents feebly tried once or twice to ask him to tone it down, but he ignored them and they gave up. Despite the aggravation of having a small boy screaming next to us every few minutes, we managed to pass the next 12 hours by dozing, reading, and typing up our blog.
We decided against eating the hot food offered by the pantry car. We probably would have succumbed if we had not passed through a disgustingly unclean pantry car during the night on the train from Varanasi to Gaya. So that left us with only biscuits to eat all day. We felt slightly over-cautious, but were at least slightly vindicated when we were told that many Indians don't eat train food either.
Finally, at around 9 pm (miraculously only five minutes late for a 24-hour journey), we arrived at Umaria station. There we were met by Satyendra's brother, who drove us in his jeep into Bandhavgarh national park. He dropped us at Skay Tiger Camp, run by Satyendra and his wife Kay, which would be our home for the next few days.
Satyendra greeted us warmly and led us over to the gazebo, in the centre of which a fire was burning. While we sat and chatted with Satyendra dinner was brought over. Hot vegetable soup was just what we needed, and that was followed by a very tasty curry. We then withdrew to our very comfortable room, armed with two hot water bottles (why had we not thought of this before?). We then went to bed to enjoy as much sleep as possible before our wake-up cup of chai arrived at 6am the next morning.
No comments:
Post a Comment