The Taj Mahal

We are 'home' and our little spurt of holidays is (unfortunately) on hold as contrary to popular opinion, we do have jobs.  Anyway, it does give me the chance to go back and cover my time in India. I blogged a bit about Delhi and after an all too brief exploration of that truly enormous city we set out for Agra - or more specifically, the Taj Mahal.

We hired a driver and mini-van and despite some hair-raising lane changes we made it there safely in about 4 hours. Agra was the capital of the Mughal empire before moving to Delhi in the 1620s. Despite the presence of the Taj and other architectural gems, this relatively small city of about 1.7 million is a verifiable dump - a status confirmed by being the 19th most polluted city in India.

Aware of Agra's bad reputation we didn't plan to stick around for long. In fact, I was thoroughly prepared to be underwhelmed - envisioning the blistering heat of the Indian summer, vast crowds, relentless tour touts - all those standard elements that can suck the joy out of any large tourist attraction - but here, as with everything in India, I expected it to be particularly in your face.

We arrived and inevitably the anticipation started to build. The large onion shaped domes of the Taj were just visible from the hotel, and once we'd our first glimpse we were eager to be on our way. The Taj Mahal was built by the slightly unhinged and architectural-obsessive Shah Jahan. The Taj is a mausoleum built for his third and favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal.

 The perimeter of the Taj is surrounded by red sandstone walls and a covered walkway with ornate entrances and mosques at the front and either side of the Taj Mahal itself.  The rear of the Taj is left exposed to the Yamuna River, which is far less picturesque than it sounds as the Yamuna is the dumping grounds for 80% of Agra's sewage (the smell was considerably less bad than anticipated).

The story has it that this perimeter shields the Taj like a veil from prying eyes, thus maintaining modesty - an important characteristic of any devout Muslim wife, and apparently one that should be maintained even in her not-so-modest final resting place.

Shah Jahan's other, less popular, wives are interred in tombs outside these walls.

Eager to get to the main event we didn't linger outside.

We were all - even Ankit who hadn't been since he was a small child - completely amazed.  The Taj Mahal is by all accounts, impressive.

The size and the symmetry are the first things that strike you - like a much bigger and better version of Sacre Coeur in Paris. But it doesn't take long - even from a distance of a few hundred meters for the sheer attention to detail to set in.  The craftsmanship is easily on par with any European church, castle or monument. 

It was crowded, but not overly so, no jostling for that perfect photo.  It was even possible given the right angle to get a view completely devoid of people.  For this, we could thank the weather - it was hot - very hot, and apparently most sane people avoid travel during the summer months in India.  As a result, there were remarkably few Western tourists but plenty of Indians, who had come from far and wide to see their most treasured national monument.

We soon discovered that the Taj was not the only tourist attraction.  Like other tourist attractions in India, there is an Indian nationals and PIO (Persons of Indian Origin) price and a tourist price.  So whilst entry to the Taj set me back about $30, it only costs Indian around $0.30, thus making the entry fee affordable for all but the very poorest citizens (don't forget this is a nation with 1/3 of the population on $1 a day).

It goes without saying that I am more than happy to pay this price, I think it is completely fair - not only economically, but maintaining buildings like the Taj doesn't come cheap - someone has to pay and I'm certainly willing to do my part.

I digress. Given this low entry fee for locals, means that many people from small towns and villages make the trip - for them this is a real two-for-one deal - not only do they get to see the Taj, but for many of them, this is the first time they will have ever seen a white person.

It is easy to get annoyed with the staring, leering and photo-taking, but it's all part of the experience.  My blond-haired, blue-eyed travel companion easily had the worst of it, with entire families queuing up to have their photos taken with her.  She gracefully declined, if she'd consented, I suspect we'd still be there.

Island time: Langkawi

Shortly after our return from Laos, we were blessed with another four day weekend so it seemed appropriate to get ourselves to Malaysia's most famous island destination: Langkawi.

30 km off the west coast of Malaysia and right at the border with Thailand, Langkawi was formerly an outpost for pirates and smugglers; today it is a full-fledged vacation destination. It's one of those places so disconnected from the real world that it's difficult to imagine that anyone is actually from there.

Beach bunnies

Langkawi is positively saturated with tourist amenities - five star resorts to hostels, upscale restaurants to messy food courts. And even though there is continuous development along the main beaches, it mercifully lacks those imposing concrete tower-block monstrosities that have ruined so many fine beaches around the world. The biggest eyesore is the fleets of jet skis that are dragged out in the morning and left to bake in the sun all day for tourists willing to pay $50 for 20 minutes of noisy fun.

Actually, the jet skis are the second biggest eyesore. The first is, without question, the hordes of Europeans (mostly Germans, French and Italians - in that order) who think Speedos look good and that there isn't an expiration date (or weight limit) on when one can wear a bikini.

On the upside, this did trigger a tiny spark of national pride. Americans are frequently classed as slobby, heathens - a stereotype I don't strictly deny - but I bet I saw more Speedos in those 4 days than are owned in the entire male population of the United States of America. America 1 - Europe 0.

Fortunately, most people don't find their way off the main beaches and there are a few wonderfully deserted beaches a short drive away where you can virtually have the place to yourself.

Hidden in that clump of trees is the exclusive Four Seasons Resort and if you get too close a tiny Malay man appears to chase you away. Keeping a safe distance, we nearly had the place to ourselves and set up camp right on the line of demarcation and enjoyed the view.
A jellyfish got me on my thigh and I had a lovely stinging welt for a few days, but it seemed a fair price to pay.

Vertigo

As Langkawi is one of those self-styled holiday destinations it has all sorts of bizarre one-off attractions (crocodile farm, rice museum) - the crown jewel of these establishments is the cable car and skybridge.

The cable car is the steepest in the world - it's not like the ones in the Alps that gently follow the incline of the mountain so you never feel quite as high up as you actually are - this thing is more or less vertical, fast and nearly a kilometer long. I don't have any photos that accurately reflect how terrifying it is - this is because my eyes were closed and I forbade Ian from making any sudden movements. This is the best we could do:

The only thing that got me on board was that the girl at ticket counter promised me it was only ten minutes to the top (which is true) and I discovered that the cable car was actually Austrian-made, that made me feel better until I realized it probably didn't come with several Austrian engineers to run and maintain it. Too late.

We made it, but I was so jittery I could hardly enjoy the spectacular views and I had to save my rapidly dwindling reserves of courage for the skybridge (and the trip back down). The skybridge is 700 meters above sea level, a bit rusty, the planks are made of wobbly concrete and it does gently sway and bounce.

Ian strode out like it was no big deal (show-off). I stayed on what I had illogically and arbitrarily deemed the 'safe bit' and distracted myself playing with the camera. In the end, this is as far as I made it, fake smile and gripping the rail for dear life (as if it would make a difference!)

The return ride was as traumatic as going up, safely back on land we sought out cocktails and headed home the next day. Our bumpy descent through the clouds as we were preparing to land in KL gave me flashbacks.

Back to Indochina: Vang Vieng

Vang Vieng is quite possibly the backpacker capital of the world - and in my opinion it is rather unfortunate that such a spectacularly beautiful place has been hi-jacked by rowdy bands of 18 year olds. Not that I'm against a bit of fun, but the drawbacks of that being the main tourist demographic has some nasty consequences.

The backpackers turn up in droves to go tubing down the Na Song. This is not our photo, it seemed foolish in the extreme to bring our camera kit on a six hour booze cruise.

Yes, that is a giant slide, and yes people have died on it. We did go tubing one afternoon and certainly had a bit of fun. Once was enough.

The idea is that you get a tube and float down the river stopping off at various bars along the way and risking your life on various rope swings, slides and zip wires. So what was once a beautiful stretch of pristine river and wilderness is now besotted with ear-splittingly loud music and litter. I repeatedly saw kids putting out cigarettes and dispensing beer bottles into the river - which quite frankly I find unforgivable. Make no mistake these are, without exception, middle-class Western kids who are all on a gap year or their winter break. They know better and I suspect the vast majority of them would never do that at home.

Unfortunately the bad behaviour is not confined to the river.  Dress in Laos is generally conservative, the locals do not particularly appreciate girls in skimpy bikinis and shirtless 'bros' strolling around town.

The lack of confidence in their own cuisine, coupled with the catering to 18 year-old white kids leads to a pretty dire food scene. Every restaurant tries to do every cuisine and they don't do any of it well. We did manage to get our hands on some nice bbq river fish and find some decent soup stalls - but I was overwhelmingly underwhelmed. At least cold beer was readily available.

My last gripe before I get to the good stuff - the TV bars. The town is packed with bars showing infinite re-runs of Family Guy and Friends. It's depressing. I mean who travels halfway around the world to watch re-runs of Friends? Hungover teenagers apparently.

It would be easy to think that this was all there was to do in Vang Vieng and that there is no escape from the hordes of teenagers, but respite is remarkably easy to come by. In fact, all you have to do is go across the bridge.

The other side is like stepping back in time, there are small villages and rice paddy fields tucked in amongst the stunning limestone karsts. We rented a small motorbike and spent perhaps the best day of our entire trip winding down dirt tracks taking in the scenery, checking out a few caves and even stopping for a swim at the blue lagoon. The further out you get the fewer the people, in fact we shared the road more often with large (slightly intimidating) herds of water buffalo than people.

Even returning in the evening, it's fairly easy to escape the crowds. Vang Vieng is so saturated with food and accommodation outlets that it would virtually be impossible for every place to be busy at any given time. So after a solid day of exploring (and with remarkably sore posteriors from bouncing up and down on a cheap Chinese motorbike all day) a cold beer in a quiet bar as you watch the sunset over the Nam Song makes for a pretty good ending.

All in all, it was a pleasant few days, very well spent that more than justified the 4+ hours bus journey to go the 96 miles from Vientiane. This is by the way, the best road in the entire country and aside from only being two lanes the entire way and winding through the mountains, I would estimate that - at best - only 2/3rds are paved.

Travel sickness medication highly advised.

Back to Indochina: Vientiane

Anyone who has read the Great Railway Bazaar (or for that matter browsed the most recent edition of the Lonely Planet) will be familiar with the way in which Paul Theroux once famously described Vientiane: 'the brothels are cleaner than the hotels, marijuana is cheaper than pipe tobacco and opium easier to find than a cold class of beer.' The cleanliness of the hotels is still up for debate but the heady days of post-colonial Vientiane in the 1970s is very much a thing of the past.

That isn't to say that Vientiane now lacks charm, but like Phnom Penh, the tourists have arrived and happy days are (economically anyway) here again. I had high hopes for Vientiane, visions of it having all of the charm of Phnom Penh but with fewer tourists. I was dead wrong. Vientiane, and for that matter Laos, is firmly on the Southeast Asia backpacking route. Fortunately - and in spite of the explosion of posh coffee shops, bars and cafes; the locals seem utterly unperturbed - even a bit aloof. Vientiane is so laid back and utterly unpretentious that at first it was quite inconceivable to me that this was a capital city of an entire country.

We set our sights on one of the few actual sites to see in Vientiane, Pha That Luang.

Pha That Luang is the most prominent national monument in Laos. The building seen today only dates from a French reconstruction in the 1930s, but there has supposedly been some form of temple present on the site from the 3rd century. Unfortunately, Laos has been invaded - a lot - so stuff gets destroyed - a lot.

Our first day was happily spent wandering Vientiane on foot and taking in the sites, mainly temples (interspersed with frequent Beer Lao beverage stops.)

We spent day two exploring some of the local markets a bit further afield and were richly rewarded. Not only did we return home with bundles of lovely Lao coffee and fresh green peppercorns, but the markets are almost completely devoid of tourists. All the usual South Asian fare was available: bananas, mangoes, rice, chillies of all shapes and sizes and a few oddities as well, courtesy of the French I suspect.

Vientiane has large ethnic Chinese and Vietnamese minorities, so Chinese New Year celebrations were in full swing. Some friendly 20-something Vietnamese - who either didn't speak a lick of English or were far too intoxicated to remember how to do so, stopped us on our market crawl and force-fed us beer and coconut sweets. I'm sure they would have had us all evening, but we were on a motorcycle and had to make a gracious escape. We also encountered some young kids doing a Lion Dance through the market.

One of the very best things about market shopping in Laos is that while there is indeed all the usual junk - Laos has an absolute abundance of really lovely (not made in China) textiles. The amount of silk is astounding and I resisted the urge to buy some absurdly exotic silk wall-hanging (a lesson learned the hard way some years ago in Morocco when I came back with two silk rugs for the home I still don't have.)

My only real complaint - and this is coming from someone who enjoyed a truly delicious steak (for a whopping $7) at a nice little Belgian bistro - is the food. Or more specifically, the lack of proper Lao food. Burgers, pizza, pasta, sushi are all available to no end - but, except for the odd noodle-soup stand, good local food is far too difficult to come by. There are a handful of street bbqs and a few upscale Lao-fusion restaurants, but on the whole the selection is rather disappointing. We did try a sausage from one of the street food stalls, it was delicious, but we both paid for it a few hours later.

Back to Indochina: Laos

A bit of background

Before returning to the back-catalogue of tales from India, our week in Laos has gone all too quickly and here we are home once again. Needless to say we had an amazing trip and Laos is possibly the most laid-back country on the planet. As anticipated it is very much like Cambodia, but without the hassle (backpackers excluded!)

Both Cambodia and Laos are categorized by the UN with 'Least Developed Country' status. They share similar infant mortality rates (between 55-60 deaths per 1000 births - the ratio in the US is 6:1000). The average life expectancy for both countries weighs in around 60. They have similar literacy rates at just over 72% and most children attend school for 9-10 years. Both countries rank appallingly in the world-wide corruption index (Laos comes in at 154 of 183, Cambodia at 164). Both were French colonies, and it shows, baguettes and cafe culture abound.

On the ground Cambodia appears to be the more developed of the two. In general there is better infrastructure, better roads (not good roads, just better roads), a small, but noticeable middle-class (as well as a small outrageously wealthy elite) and the greatest test of all in Asian development - the presence of Kentucky Fried Chicken. However, that is where Cambodia's edge ends (if you can count KFC as having an edge).

Most strikingly of all, Laos does not appear to be suffering from any of the child protection issues that are the scourge of Cambodia. I could count on one hand the number of begging children encountered in Laos (in Cambodia there were hundreds). There is no evidence of rampant padeophilia (by Westerners), child neglect or abandonment.

In fact, homelessness across the board appeared to be virtually nonexistent as was any evidence of starvation. There is also virtually no harassment and pestering. You are allowed to wander the market without items being shoved in your face, tuk-tuk drivers don't accost you relentlessly and restauranteurs don't stand on the sidewalk trying to lure you in.

Say what you will, but I suspect this culture has something to do with the fact that Laos is a Communist state and the government despite many, many serious flaws (not least that it is a one-party dictatorship in which all other political parties are banned) does manage to provide a very rudimentary social safety net. Laos also has one of the lowest unemployment rates in the world, a meager 2.5%  - ranking it 21 out of 199 putting it way ahead of Switzerland, Germany and the USA.

The Lao government also began encouraging private enterprise in 1986 and since then (with a brief blip from the Asia economic crisis in the late 90s) the Lao economy has grown by more than 6% each year. It is Laos' goal to graduate from Least Developed Country Status by 2020 and they appear to be on track to do so. The Chinese, as in Cambodia, are also on the scene - they are currently spending a whopping $7 billion (USD) to kit out Laos with a high-speed rail linking Vientiane with the Chinese border.

Onto the journey

Well, I'm not going to lie, our journey didn't get off to the greatest start. As if I don't hate flying enough, getting up at 3:00am for 7:45am flight is even worse. Add to that trying to get Ian up and it's like lining cats up for a parade. Anyway, we made it to the airport in plenty of time, had a smooth 2.5 hour flight and were on the ground by 9:30am Vientiane time.

Things did not immediately improve. The Lao government has put a flat rate of $7 for the taxi ride into town. This is by all means an exorbitant sum for this part of the world, but $7 isn't exactly going to break the bank and sometimes you just roll with it. I was ready to roll, Ian was gearing up for a fight. In the end we got the taxi - needless to say, it would have been a lengthy walk into town and a tuk-tuk would have saved us no more than about $2. This did not prevent me hearing about our squandered $7 for the rest of the morning. Pointing out that we really only frittered away a couple of bucks as a tuk-tuk still would have cost money apparently did not help the situation.

We arrived at our accommodation. Now, I'm a pretty hardened traveler and have survived many nights in inferior accommodation, but this was pretty sub-par. As always my first exploration of our new digs took me straight to the bathroom. I was instantly swarmed by mosquitoes (we were to discover that even in the dry season, mosquitoes were still a pretty serious problem) and as I victoriously crushed the life out of one unfortunate skeeter against the bathroom wall, I noticed that a large portion on the bathroom wall was indeed smeared with mosquito guts and blood from previous guests whom had fought the same losing battle. Charming.

The bathroom also had that delightful scent of raw sewage that accompanies one virtually everywhere in Asia and the shower curtain was positively streaked with slimy black mold. Too tired and dirty to care, I hopped in the shower while Ian plugged up gaps in the windows and fans with plastic bags to keep the infestation down and we set off in search of food.

Still bristling from our massive over-expenditure on our taxi fare, we made several aborted attempts to get some food, no way was Ian going to let breakfast set us back another $7! We (I) did eventually locate a small noodle shop, crammed with locals and commanded we stop. We ordered two steaming bowls of Pho and were richly rewarded. We topped up our soups with a dazzling array of condiments: fish sauce, limes, sugar, soy, pickled chillies and no less than two kinds of amazing (super hot) chilli paste. Washed, fed and on the ground holiday could officially begin.

Indian Summer

Looking back it struck me that I really failed to write anything of substance regarding our trip to India - which considering what a big trip it was, is a rather monumental failing on my part.

I did a quick photo blog of Lav's wedding, which does nicely sum everything up - it was absurdly delightful and I am now the owner of not one, but two saris. So let me please just insert a plea here to all my Indian friends, please have a large traditional Indian wedding and please invite me - just so I can say I wore them twice.

Underestimating what a toll a week-long Indian wedding takes on a person, a few other friends and I opted to stay on in India for another 10 days. Wedding festivities completed we flew north to Delhi - the home of our friend Ankit, whose outrageous hospitality and help is unlikely to ever be superseded (even by my own mother) and I am I still trying to figure out how to best thank him.

Settling in nicely to Ankit's beautiful home (hand-carved marble staircase from Rajasthan, you know, normal stuff) we took to the sites of Delhi. Ankit lives in Greater Kailash II, so for anyone who has read The White Tiger, you'll have a pretty good picture of what it's like - if you haven't read it, read it and find out for yourself - it's a terrific read.

I digress. We spent some time in Delhi, including a sunset trip to the Lotus Temple, the Red Fort and a rickshaw ride around Chandni Chowk (a large market in old Delhi). Now I've seen a lot of markets - I have market fatigue the way people get church and castle fatigue in Europe. But even Chandi Chowk did not fail to impress, it is dirty (filthy really), beautiful and positively bursting at the seams.

I'm also fairly certain that given the right opportunities our rickshaw driver could have been an Olympic athlete. I imagine he was probably younger than he actually looked (he could have been anywhere between 40-70), but he was 100% muscle and sinew and hauled two of us around (probably weighing in at a solid 250lbs between us) like it was all part of a normal days work (which of course it was).

Now, this would have been impressive just based on the presence of 250lbs of white girls in his rickshaw. Add to that: narrowed, busy, cramped, and wildly uneven dirt paths and roads and 90+ degree heat. It was truly phenomenal, and mercifully spared myself the indignity of joining the general bustle and having to dodge sewers, dog faeces, live electrical wires and other life-threatening obstacles. We did take a few major potholes (ravines might be a more accurate description) at some speed and I was congratulating myself on the purchase of a better than usual travel insurance policy. We survived, and paid him what Ankit assured us was an exorbitant sum, but still less than any of you earned per hour in your lowest-paying job ever.

Delhi is a big city, as of 2011, the 8th largest in the world with a population approaching 17 million (22 for the metro area). So secure in that knowledge, the sheer mass of humanity that you encounter at every turn is utterly unsurprising, so it wasn't until we set off for the countryside that India's massive population really made an impression on me.

After chickening out on a trip to Srinigar, the summer capital of India-occupied Kashmir (I'll get there eventually) we settled on an ambitious tour of the 'Golden Triangle'. The Golden Triangle takes in Agra (ie the Taj Mahal, Agra is otherwise a verifiable dump) and Jaipur, perhaps the crown jewel of Mogul India. And more on all that in the next (belated) Indian installment.

Christmas Island

I have to say that in spite of all the decorations and making Ian crazy with the Nutcracker on repeat in the weeks and days leading up to Christmas, that hot weather at the holidays is just plain weird. I kept trying to reassure myself of the novelty of it all and how I couldn't wait to rub it in to everyone back home that I'd been for a nice long swim in my pool on Christmas day, but the festive feeling was, until the very last minute, lacking entirely. Fortunately, there's nothing like a bottle of white wine at 11:30am and a few gifts to kick things into gear and suddenly it was Christmas.

I get ahead of myself. Taking advantage of Ian's family visit we set off for Pangkor. Pangkor is a small island about halfway between KL & Penang, and despite having heard fairly positive things about it, I was withholding judgement as to how it would rate as a beach destination particularly given its location in the high-traffic and murky waters of the Straits of Malacca.

We arrived well after dark and the first thing that struck me (aside from the carnation pink people-carrier taxis that are driven with wild abandon over the hills and around the curves of the island interior) was a genuinely alarming lack of Chinese people. Now, we've been in Malaysia for exactly 14 months and that is long enough to learn that, where there are Chinese there is beer and no Chinese people = no beer. This would certainly be a sorry way to start off a trip to the beach.

My suspicions were confirmed when there was only one place in the entire village with beer and I do not exaggerate when I say that every, single white person in town was there. Normally, I would avoid this type of place like the plague but it was agreed all-round that after a 6 hour journey involving a long car ride, noisy ferry and high-speed suspension-less taxi ride that the availability of beer trumped all. We had a thoroughly mediocre meal, enjoyed a few ice cold Tigers, took a quick turn about the town, called it a night and prayed for sunshine the following day.

Our prayers were answered, we awoke to a lovely sunny day and afraid that it might end at any moment grabbed our gear and set out for the beach. In a moment of blind excitement we foolishly attempted to cut off a corner of the walk by cutting through a patch of jungle rather than follow the road. We were instantly swarmed, and I mean swarmed, by mosquitoes and quickly came upon a troop of cheeky macaques, we promptly abandoned the trek, located the beach and made for the lovely, clear warm water letting the salt assuage our recently acquired battle scars.


Although limited in cultural exploits, Pangkor does have more to offer in terms of wildlife than macaques and mosquitoes and (with the aid of our fancy new camera lens) we saw our first hornbills in the wild. I'm sure we were also surrounded by any number of poisonous deadly snakes and the sea bed was riddled with exceptionally large slimy sea slugs and spikey sea urchins.

We returned to KL to commence our holiday celebrations. Ian did (finally) get me that beautiful porcelain Chinese lamp - and even condescended to spend an extra $30 on the lampshade. We had a delicious dinner of rosemary encrusted pork loin with with mustard cream sauce, braised leeks and mashed potato - it had nothing on Grandma's prime rib, but it certainly did the trick. Boxing Day we went to Trader's for drinks where (as usual) the service was terrible and the drinks overpriced, but the view is unbeatable.