Author Archives: Marce

By the time we left Mumbai we were questioning our decision to go south this time of year. Five minutes on the street, even moving in slow motion, left us dripping and dull-witted. Nevertheless, we flew even further south, to Kochi in the southernmost state of Kerala along the Malabar Coast of the Arabian Sea. We’d read that it’s unique and a change of pace from where we’ve been so far. Truth be told, each of our stops has its own character, culture, food, and general vibe. India is a big country and we wanted to get a taste of different regions for this first trip.

I initially parked us in the business district of Ernakulam, just to get our bearings and clear our lungs of the residue of Mumbai air. We soon realized we really want to be in Fort Kochi, close as the crow flies but a world away, and right on the sea.

First, of course, we ticked off the required Marce Tour of the city market. It was a long and sweaty walk but even in these conditions I love to poke my head into the various stalls to see what’s on offer.

Kerala is where most of the spices are grown. Seeing these tubs of fresh whole spices and breathing in the exotic aromas made me long for a kitchen and a pantry big enough to stock with bags full of everything.

I don’t know what these little clay cups are for, but there didn’t seem to be much English spoken in this market.

I’ve never seen so many varieties of dried fish.

When we left the market we were stopped by a colorful gridlock right where we wanted to cross the street. Locals walked right through, weaving their way around trucks, cars and motorbikes. We stood aside like the tourists we are, laughing and waiting for a little more room to move. It was like one of those sliding block puzzles where only one piece can move one space at a time, allowing the next to move one space. Even the drivers and passengers were shaking their heads, some in amusement, some in frustration. Eventually we got where we were going, which was back to our hotel to pack up and cross the backwaters to Fort Kochi and a little peace and quiet.

A must-see in Mumbai is Dhobi Ghat, the open air city laundry where over 100,000 pieces are washed, dried and pressed every day. We got an Uber to drop us off at an overpass where an observation deck gives you a good view of the activity below.

We were there at midday so missed the flogging of the clothes in the concrete wash pens but some of the dhobis (washermen) were still hanging the clothes on twisted ropes.

The dhobis and their families live here, and the trade is passed down the generations. This is supposedly the largest open air laundry in the world. You can see some great closeup photos here.

Mumbai is huge and we moved to another area of the city to experience something different. It was an hour-long Uber ride from one neighborhood to the other and we drove over the Bandra-Worli Sea Link, the fifth longest bridge in India. It’s tough to get a good photo of a bridge you’re driving over from the backseat of an Uber but we did get a better shot from shore a few days later.

Our new neighborhood was more upscale than the noisy tech-store district we’d been in. It was still lively and close to the Arabian Sea and despite the intense heat we walked along the shore hoping to reach Bandra Fort. Unfortunately, after a couple of hours of profuse sweating we found the entire fort peninsula closed for renovations. These are things Google maps doesn’t tell you. We wisely called an Uber to take us back to the hotel and air conditioning.

We moved again to another hotel, this time in the clothing shopping district where I got a pair of trainers to replace the Merrells that have nearly fallen apart in the two years since I bought them in New Jersey. For the price I paid for the new ones if they last a year they’ll be worth it.

The very best thing in this new neighborhood was a gelato store where I got the most amazing ice cream I’ve ever had, guava-papaya sorbet with chili sprinkled on top. I went back the next day to have it again and asked for more chili. After tasting it, all other flavors pale in comparison. Even the delicious Tanzania chocolate couldn’t hold a candle to it.

And then it was time to say goodbye to Mumbai. We both agree the Mumbai airport may be our favorite so far. Not only is it quiet, but the Museum of Modern Art made the airport an adjunct gallery and we barely noticed the distance we had to walk to our gate because we enjoyed the art so much.

Against all advice from locals, we are on our way further south. We must be out of our minds.

In case you haven’t noticed, we’re making up this India adventure as we go along. Here in Udaipur we asked many Indians for suggestions on where to go next and I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that not too many people in this huge country have ventured very far from home. Those who have traveled widely urged us to go north, as it’s getting mighty hot even here in Rajasthan, and it’ll be cooler in Dharamshala and especially Kashmir. We love the mountains but unfortunately every route north involves backtracking through Delhi, then returning again to fly out to the UK in April. This would be a clear Rule #1 violation, plus a big ol’ dent in the travel budget. There’s no cheap or easy way to get to Dharamshala. Next time, we sighed. South it is, continuing our linear path. And it’s going to be hot.

A long Uber ride from the Mumbai airport gave us our first look at India’s second largest city and its financial capital. We’re told there’s great wealth here, and great poverty.

We haven’t seen the wealth yet, and our perfectly adequate budget hotel is above an electronics store on a street lined with nothing but electronics stores for at least half a mile.

Around the corner we found a small city market and a wet market but Jack couldn’t put his hands on a Snickers bar.

We plunged headlong into sightseeing, something we usually don’t approach with diligence. It would probably be easier to book a city tour and get driven around from photo op to photo op but our aversion to being herded and my general inclination to take on the navigation duties always send us off on our own to find (or not) the things you’re supposed to see as a first time visitor. I think we did pretty well in Mumbai.

We started, as you do, at the Gateway to India, a monument to the arrival of George V and Queen Mary in 1911, and the symbol of Mumbai. More significantly, the last remaining British troops departed through the arch in 1948. We’d read warnings about crowds, touts and pickpockets but no one bothered us at all, not even for selfies.

Across the street is the magnificent Taj Mahal Palace Hotel. I should mention that we went through security (scans and bag checks) both to enter the grounds of the Gateway and the hotel. The hotel was the site of a terrorist attack in 2008 during which more than 160 people were killed.

It was fun to walk through the lobby, and especially to see the photos of some of the famous people who’ve stayed here.

This is the Colaba area of South Mumbai and a collection of Gothic Revival and Art Deco buildings make up a UNESCO World Heritage site. We had fun seeking out some of the buildings, and they are all beautiful.

Part of this UNESCO site, but also listed on its own is the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus, formerly Victoria Terminus. It’s a huge and fabulous Italian Gothic complex and we spent a long time trying to photograph it. It’s just too big to fit in the frame of an iPhone but we did our best to capture its glory.

Mumbai is so huge that we could only tackle one area a day. Like Delhi, it would take more than the few days we have to fully appreciate the scope and variety of this place. We’re always aware with our advancing age that this may be our only opportunity to be here and more than visiting “the sights” we often just want to soak up the atmosphere of the places we visit. We chose to move hotels every couple of days to experience different parts of the city. Did I mention how big it is?

Holi Anni is the Spring Hindu Festival of Colors celebrating love and the end of winter. We had planned to move on from Udaipur but when we learned Holi was coming up in a few days we extended our stay. The city was booked up, including our wonderful guesthouse, but our host found us another room just around the corner.

Last year we were in Bhaktapur, Nepal, for Holi and it was a joyous but rather sedate celebration. We looked forward to the Rajasthani version, which we were told can get a little rowdy.

The day before Holi we crossed the footbridge into the city and visited the main temple. Jack, as always, stayed on the perimeter with his shoes on while I subjected my bare feet to the hot hot hot stone temple grounds to see what was going on inside. There was already quite a bit of color on the people and the temple itself and I could hear chanting and bells and clapping.

I joined the crush on the steep steps but only got a glimpse as I teetered at the top.

I followed the cows down to the street and Jack and I sauntered back to the Old City.

At the crossroads of nearly every neighborhood men were constructing the trees that will be burned to symbolize the victory of good over evil. We’re told the big bonfires will be in the main square in town along with the big crowds but these little neighborhood celebrations appeal to us. Our original host has especially invited us to join his family at their neighborhood full moon ceremony.

They light the bonfires close to midnight so while we waited we took a turn around the Old City. Things were certainly heating up. Down the street from the footbridge we joined a crowd outside an open doorway. Neither of us could figure out what was going on, and while a local next to me tried to explain it I couldn’t make out what he said over the din of traffic, chanting and bells. We could see the man inside quivering, his right leg vibrating so hard it looked like it might fall off.

In the main square the dancing had started.

We made our way back toward our old guesthouse where our host and his family were beginning the ceremony.

First was a blessing and offering, then the lighting of the tree. It was so much more explosive than we expected, and so hot we couldn’t get near it for about 20 minutes. At one point an ember fell on my head and burned a patch of hair. That was about the time one of the overhead electrical wires melted and the power went out. We noticed this happened above several of the burning trees nearby but the lines were reconnected or rerouted quickly and the power was back on in minutes.

The tradition is to walk around the burning tree seven times for good fortune in the year to come. If you can’t do seven then five or even three are enough. We did the optimum seven and I felt like my right side was barbecued.

The actual festival of colors was the next day. You’ve probably seen this in NatGeo where people dance and carouse and throw color powders and colored water on each other. We’ve been respectfully daubed with colors before in Fiji and Nepal but we really wanted to see the full action, if not join in completely. We selected T-shirts that we wouldn’t mind tossing if they got ruined but neither of us has any throwaway trousers. In any case we prepared to make our way to the square to join in. That’s when these two arrived back at the guesthouse from their foray into the city.

They’d had a lot of fun, and it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience but in the end we chickened out, mostly because of the gauntlet of young kids we’d have to run at the end of our alley before we could ever get to the footbridge. Most of the older folks, tourists and locals alike, also skipped the colors fun. Still, I think we’re both disappointed in ourselves and if we ever intersect with Holi again I think we’ll plunge right in. Why not?

We did get the respectful daub again, so there’s that. Happy Holi!

We successfully completed the #1 India must-do, the Golden Triangle of Delhi-Agra-Jaipur and now we head into unknown and unplanned territory. We were reluctant to leave the beautiful sanctuary of our guesthouse but we’ve barely scratched the surface of India and we’re keen to experience more.

Everyone says we absolutely must travel India by train and I finally figured out the online booking system and got us comfy seats for the 6-1/2 hour journey to Udaipur.

The first couple of hours were in daylight so we got to see a little of the territory. We were given water and a newspaper before departing, and served food and beverages four times during the trip. Amtrak could learn a thing or two.

We arrived in Udaipur in the dark and after a lively negotiation with two rather enthusiastic tuktuk drivers we finally got onboard for a nailbiting careen through the narrow alleyways of Udaipur to our randomly chosen guest house deep in the labyrinth of the Old City. Someone should make a video game of driving a tuktuk through the crush of pedestrians, motorbikes, cows, and dogs all vying for the same 8-foot wide lanes, and yes, even late at night.

The following day we set out to explore our new neighborhood.

We can never pass up a music store and we got a bonus from the proprietor of this one, a discourse on the sitar and a brief demonstration. He claims the sitar is easier to play than the guitar because while the sitar has many more strings, you only play on one of them. The rest are drones. I didn’t know that.

Udaipur is the City of Lakes, and of course we love being near the water.

We happened upon a small museum in a restored palace. It was cool inside and a nice break from the scorching midday sun.

We found a tiny fruit stand serving beautiful smoothie bowls and established ourselves as regulars.

We’ve learned to take shelter in the worst heat of the afternoon. Then we take to the rooftop for sunset before re-emerging after dark for dinner. We seem to have settled in nicely.

From the Palace of Winds we strolled through a marketplace that featured mostly household equipment. I like this kind of market because it’s not for tourists, and you get a good sense of what families need in their daily life.

These huge pans (trays?) caught my attention and I asked what they were for.

“It’s to organize food for five or six hundred people,” the vendor told me.

“Five or six hundred people?” I gasped, “Does that happen often?”

“In India, yes.”

Jack wanted to shop for a new ship’s clock but I was on a mission. Ever since I read about Jantar Mantar, an 18th century astronomical observatory, it’s been marked as “want to go” on my Google map.

But despite it being right there on the map, finding the entrance required the usual twisty turny back alley traffic dodging, death defying crawl we’ve come to accept as shank’s mare in India.

Finally we arrived.

Jantar Mantar is a collection of huge masonry instruments to measure time, predict eclipses and track the position and movements of celestial bodies. The observatory is one of five built by Raja Jai Singh II and the largest. It was completed in 1734. The raja believed these large structures could produce more accurate readings than the small brass instruments commonly used in the period.

There are 19 instruments, each designed for a specific measurement.

One of my very favorite college courses was History of Cosmology, how we humans have tried to understand, describe, and predict the heavens above us. It’s interesting to see how our understanding of the universe evolves over time, and continues to change with new data. Jai Singh II was a student of the Ptolemaic model but noticed that observed positions of certain celestial objects didn’t match the predictions on the data tables in use at the time. The observatories he built were meant to create more accurate tables, using only the naked eye.

It takes some time and effort to examine each instrument and understand its design and purpose and the geometry involved. I could have spent days there. Not only is the science compelling, but the planes and curves of the structures themselves make for constantly changing patterns of light and shadow.

The Rasivalayas Yantra is a unique instrument comprising twelve structures corresponding to the constellations of the zodiac. Each is precisely oriented to indicate the moment a particular sign crosses the meridian. If ever I wished for a drone or a really long arm, it was at this place. You can find an overhead shot here.

Of course we had to find our signs.

The most prominent feature of Jantar Mantar is the enormous Vrihat Samrat Yantra, the world’s largest sundial, said to be accurate to two seconds. The gnomon is 27m tall and you can see the shadow move about 6cm a minute. It’s hard to stop watching.

By the clock on my phone it was dead on, at least to the minute.

On display inside a small building are an orrery and an early globe.

Like I said, I could have stayed for at least the rest of the day, examining each instrument in turn. But we had one more hill to climb.

Ok, it’s not a hill but a great big tower, the 43m Isarlat, built to commemorate the victory of Swai Ishwari Singh in the battle for succession in 1749.

Longtime readers know that for me very high places are to be avoided. But Jack likes company in his quest for the tippy top of wherever we are so here’s me playing along. Notice there are no steps, just a continuous undulating spiral ramp, ribbed for your pleasure.

The view from the top is admittedly wonderful, as long as you don’t look straight down, and my hands are sweating just typing this.

You can see the places we visited today, the Palace of Winds, back right, and the tall sundial gnomon of the observatory, center left.

These three fellows struck up a conversation and answered a lot of questions for us, which took my mind off how high up we were. By coincidence we ran into them again the next day at the Amber fort, which thrilled us all no end and led to another round of photos.

I could not for the life of me figure out how to book a train ticket online, and by the time I got it sorted it was too late for our intended departure. At the very last minute I booked a flight for not much more than the train and certainly faster. The short hops around India are served by Indigo Airline who operate smaller turboprop equipment. That means our baggage allowance is 15 kilos instead of the usual 20 or 25 kilos for most international flights. We only have one bag and over the last few months the weight has crept up to over 17 kg. For two people our combined limit is 30 kg but you know the airlines, each bag must be under the limit. And we only have one bag. Which weighs 17 kilos.

To solve this problem I moved some heavy items to our overflow carryon tote and we’ll check both bags. Neither of us wants to add to our carryon weight, and many airlines now limit carryon to 7 kg.

I made up an ID tag and secured it to the tote with Gorilla tape (new addition to my travel kit), moved the AirTag from the big duffle to the small and maybe easily lost tote, and hoped my weight estimates get us past the airline checkin scale.

Meanwhile, I felt a cold coming on. I ducked down the street to a small pharmacy and asked what he had for the sniffles. He produced two packets of pills that he recommended I take, one each morning and night.

“Will they work?” I asked, struggling to read the ingredients.

“Of course they’ll work!” he countered. “I’m a pharmacist!”

You can’t argue with that, and I generally trust that local medicine men know their local bugs. While I was there I restocked other bits of our first aid kit, replacing expired antibiotics and other just-in-case drugs we carry. He had everything I asked for and my total bill was about $12.

We took an Uber to the Agra airport. Or at least we thought we did. Our driver stopped well short of the destination indicated by Google maps, and right before a very tall, very closed gate.

“This is as far as I can drive you,” he said, and he indicated a bus across the road. He assured us it would deliver us to the terminal.

We decamped to the bus. There was another couple there. French. We waited.

It turns out the civil airport in Agra lies inside a military base. That explains the barbed wire, I thought. And all the men with guns. In fact, we’ve seen more guns in India than we have in years in SE Asia.

We sat on the bus for 45 minutes until a man from Indigo came to check our tickets and passports. Finally a driver hopped onboard and we drove the final ten minutes to the terminal. Because we were in a military base we couldn’t take photos, and the military did all the security screening. They zip-tied our bags closed, even the outside pockets. How am I going to get those things off, I wondered. The scissors are inside the bag.

Our duffle weighed just under 13 kilos so we passed with flying colors. I was so excited I didn’t even watch the scale for the tote. With boarding passes in hand we bought bad terminal food and sat down to wait.

The flight was delayed but otherwise uneventful and we arrived at our guesthouse in Jaipur early enough to enjoy the peaceful surroundings. It’s a stunning place, picked at random, and I’m glad I booked five nights. After the whirlwind of Delhi and Agra, we decided to take a personal day and just enjoy this lovely marble oasis. The Pink City can wait.

We wisely skipped breakfast before our Old Delhi food tour. This is a first for us. We don’t do tours in general but despite my love of markets and familiarity with lots of Indian food there are so many street foods that we haven’t tried, and having a guide to navigate us through the famously chaotic Chandni Chowk market seemed like a good idea.

While we waited for our guide we saw this man making samosas exactly as I’ve been making them for almost 40 years, and as Ericka and Drew make them now too. It’s nice to confirm that we’re doing it right.

We met our guide and our fellow tasters, an English couple and two women from Greece, and headed into the market.

We started with jalebi, a crispy sweet coated in a sugar-honey syrup. We all loved it.

Before going any further we made a stop at a Sikh temple. I remind you that houses of worship are not Jack’s favorite thing, mostly because he doesn’t like to take his shoes off. But he promised before we committed to the tour that he would participate in everything and here’s the proof that he did. We had to cover our heads like pirates and remove our shoes then walk down the street and through some areas that may not have been entirely sanitary. But Jack was game, and so were the rest of us.

This temple is a refuge for the poor and needy and volunteers prepare meals for 30-40,000 hungry people a day.

The people eat in shifts. They file in to this room to be served. When they finish the next group moves in. It’s very calm and organized.

After touring the kitchen and serving area we sat in the temple for a few minutes, then we were reunited with our shoes to continue the food tour.

The market area is nuts. This is one time I wished I had a GoPro and could shoot continuous video of wending our way through narrow alleys and dodging tuktuks and rickshaws across noisy streets. Still photos just can’t capture the madness. I loved it. I haven’t been this excited in a market since Palermo in the 80s.

I can’t even attempt to describe — or even name — all of the foods we ate, some familiar, others new to us. We knew to avoid that green stuff. It’s fire in the mouth.

Most of what we ate was street food but we did sit down twice. This was a paratha place, in business for over 150 years and six generations. There wasn’t a scrap left on anyone’s plate. Except the green stuff.

I must have 100 photos of various stalls and vendors. I always ask permission to photograph in markets and no one ever says no. (Well, except for a cranky German woman at the Turkish market in Berlin back in 2004 who yelled at me for taking a picture of her wares. They weren’t even that special.)

Deep in the narrow lanes of the market our group paused to enjoy another dish when seconds later we were almost run over by a fully loaded rickshaw trying to make the corner with a wheelbase not suitable for the width of the alley.

This is not a pedestrian only area. At any moment a vehicle of some sort will force everyone to the edge and squeeze past. It’s like the dimension-defying night bus in the Harry Potter books, ten pounds of pedestrian and vehicular traffic in a five pound alley. Somehow no one gets hurt, but it’s hard to believe it.

Full props to me for tasting everything (it was all vegetarian.) Jack passed on two, and this was one of them. It’s called pani puri and it’s a crispy little dough sphere filled with either a spicy or a sweet liquid mixture. You have to pop the whole thing in your mouth at once, and when you bite down it explodes in your mouth with intense flavor. I tried them both. The spicy wasn’t too hot for me, and the sweet one was delicious. It’s just a lot to have swirling around in your mouth at once. Most of our crew tried to bite into it daintily, which only resulted in squirts and dribbles on faces and clothing.

The constant din becomes a brown noise background and after a while I found my brain just tuned it out.

I think Jack’s favorite was a lemon soda in a unique reusable bottle. The seal is formed by a captive marble inside that’s sucked up to the top when the bottle is cleaned and refilled. You open it by pushing the marble down into the bottle, breaking the seal.

After more tasting we plunged into the spice market where so much spice was floating in the air that Jack and I donned our facemasks. The rest of our crew braved the thick atmosphere and sneezed and coughed their way around.

If I had a kitchen or space in my luggage I’d have filled up a tote with all the fresh spices, most grown all over India.

Our other favorite beverage was masala chai served in single-use clay cups.

Our final sitdown stop was a tandoor oven where we enjoyed fresh naan and masala paneer. Notice the sink nearby for handwashing before and after eating. There are sinks and other fresh water sources all over the market. When you eat with your hands you appreciate being able to clean up afterwards.

Jack’s last tasting was a sweet fluffy concoction whose name I forget. It’s a wonder I remembered as much as I did.

There was one last treat offered us, sweet paan, a betel leaf wrapped like a cigar around spices and who-knows-what else. Only three of us tried it. One of the Greek women spit it out immediately. The English woman gagged but managed to eat it. I ate the whole thing, and let me tell you, it was a Tim Burton movie of competing flavors and textures. The leaf itself was as tough as a garden hedge and after a journey from sweet to sour to flowery herbal I was left with a strong menthol aftertaste that for hours afterward burped back up again.

And then we were back where we started with full bellies, some new favorites and definitely a couple of never-agains. We will absolutely do more food tours in the future. It was the most fun we’ve had in one day in a long time.

I don’t know why it was so hard for us to decide on India. I guess we were daunted. Through the years we’ve been traveling, and especially these last few years of land travel, we’ve been advised either “You must go!” or “Don’t even think about it!” We assumed it would be difficult on our own and we can neither afford, nor mostly tolerate, tours. In the end Youtube convinced us we could do it. Shoutout to all the YouTubers who share up to date real world experiences and offer a pretty good idea of what to expect.

From Kuala Lumpur every single affordable flight arrives late at night. We chose the least objectionable budget airline and arrived only slightly delayed to Delhi.

Our first task is always to get cash at an ATM and just like Indonesia, the maximum withdrawal is pitifully small for a country that mostly runs on cash.

Next up is SIM cards for the phones. We had one choice and I knew it wouldn’t be enough data for us but that’s all we could get at the airport. The process took forever, made even longer because Jack went outside to look for another vendor then wasn’t allowed to re-enter the terminal. He passed me his phone and passport under the watchful eye of the guard at the door, and the SIM vendor had to go outside to take Jack’s photo, a requirement to sign up for a phone card. The vendor was allowed back in. Jack wasn’t.

We took an Uber to our guesthouse, an impossible to find homestay down an alley parked so tight with cars that we inched along with millimeters to spare under a fine example of Asian wiring.

The next day we successfully navigated the excellent Metro system for a full day of sightseeing in New Delhi. Old Delhi will wait for another day— it’s a huge city and in a couple of days we’ll only get a taste.

It’s been difficult to decide on an itinerary for our month in India, and while we have a rough idea of the areas we want to visit for this initial trip, we haven’t booked more than the first few days of lodging or transportation. We know from experience that we may get suggestions from other travelers or guesthouse hosts and we like to be spontaneous. We’ll see how that works out.