BIJAPUR

Thursday, 17 February 2011

BIJAPUR

Writing on the day of arrival Thursday 17 Feb, two days to the start of the World Cup, just two fifteen nights to go including one which will be mostly spent at Bengaluru airport.

Virendah Sehwag 132 not out against Bangladesh

Still Panjim North Goa
Before going on I should like to record the friendly chat with the Kashmiri who ran the Emporium at ...... His role was as an employee and he was doubtless a little embarrassed by our expectation we believed we had come to site of great historical interest (but it turned out that it was the whole nearby village which was now a world heritage site, whereas the advertisement for this property gave the impression that it was the centre of interest whereas it was simply an expensive shop) but he showed us round and accepting immediately that we were not interested in purchasing any of their expensive stock so took advantage to talk to us in the absence of other customers. He had worked in Goa for six years now but to avoid the monsoon went back to his family in Kashmir every summer, he was keen to persuade others to go saying the worst was over though the Indian Government and Arundhati Roy were obviously not convinced. He was a Muslim but yet again of the most sympathetic type, but I did not take the opportunity to quiz him about the problems in Kashmir, I still do not understand whether at heart it is question of independence as a separate nation, or a Muslim/ Hindu divide with the Muslims happy to join Pakistan. We still remember vividly the Hindu Kashmiri trader we met in Manali whose parents home had been burnt in a successful attempt to get them to segregate to Jammu, obviously lower altitude, hotter, and less tempting than Kashmir proper. We retired to the garden and share a pot of Kashmiri tea, drunk weak green, the tea being boiled with the tea for ten minutes with some added almond.


Unfortunately he was called away to attend to another customer - a shame since we were building up a good rapport. Before leaving we bought 200 grm of Kashmiri tea for 480rp (7 pounds) but he refused to take extra for our tea in the garden saying that was on him as was the two bottles of mineral water he handed us before showing us around the grounds. Thinking the village of Ribana? was the heritage area we walked around a bit but found nothing except several other houses which had been converted into emporii I think by the same firm Cottage Industries? It is obviously going to get more and more expensive for tourists who have no idea of the true prices in India to part with their money in the large heritage area around Old Goa. 

One other comment, unlike the constant hassle further south last year where we constantly had goods and shops thrust under our noses we have experienced absolutely none this year, clearly two things are at work one the pricier places realise the hard sell is counter-productive with westerners and second the low number, but savvy, tourists on the ground we have covered this year.

BIJAPUR
We had decided to take an overnight bus, only the second time ever we have done this - the first being in China, usually we like to do overnight journeys by rail but there was no route across country to our knowledge. If you wanted a stark comparison between the two emerging giant economies then there is no better illustration of the chaos which is India and the emerging modernity of China than this overnight bus. China, at least that untypical part we encountered crossing from far west to Beijing had top quality roads, all long distance bus tickets are sold before the journey for unique seats and no one else is allowed on whereas in India there is always room for one more, so though nobody attempted to invade our seats there were people sleeping on the floor of the aisles and there was a prolonged argument at each stop as to who had the occupation right for the few spare unsold seats. The state of the buses obviously reflects the quality of the surfaces over which they are driven, on the one case therefore we had an admirably relaxing journey of well over twelve hours but this time we rattled along and although I slept through the worst mayhem Joan, still very much troubled by illness could not even lie down fully without provoking continual productive coughing. In both China and India the security forces raided the bus, in China without even a single word of English they were able to convey thoughtfully by body language that we were not suspects (they were probably trying to detect immigration from central Europe or dissidents from Kashgar, whereas in India we were all suspects though whether they were looking for arms or tax avoiding alcohol imports from Goa (far lower alcohol tax than the rest of India) we never ascertained, they shook the luggage and at any sound of glass they opened the bags and took off men and a few bottles of alcohol, but minutes later the men reappeared with their bottles - was it just another case of baksheesh?

 A family delighted by the size of the bread

Other hotel guests

As a result Joan is in bed today at the Hotel Pearl, another nice room for 1500 rp + tax probably 100rp whilst I am typing. Bijapur was perhaps the low point of the trip for her the persistent coughing and need to clear her chest of phlegm was beginning to get her down. At the time I who had it first (though never on my chest) and separately Joan had wondered if this continual insistent coughing was a case of Whooping Cough and this thought was further strengthened when Jim told us that Fred in France had a case of the disease (confirmed by blood test) which had apparently come in from Eastern Europe. But our doctors would have none of it on our return, it was a disease prevalent in our childhood when we would have gained natural immunity but it had now disappeared because all children are vaccinated against it. Our doubts remain as strong as ever.  

At least the end hopefully is now in sight as she has an antibiotic and some expectorate cough medicine to help clear it and by way of proof she is having her first good sleep for a week. She was delighted when she found she could get a good antibiotic in Panjim just before we left just by going into the pharmacy and asking for one, she actually asked if they would give her one without prescription, they conferred and never answered the question but delivered the goods any way 10 tablets (5 days) plus medicine plus tissues for under 3 pounds, and they were very knowledgeable and helpful to boot. Approaching the pharmacies directly seems to work all over the globe, Argentina, Mexico and Peru for instance - though in the past I have been the one to search, one hopes it works for visitors to the UK but I doubt it with our red tape (the chemists probably wouldn't even know the price to charge an individual. Pharmacists are after all as well qualified in medicines as doctors, it seems we under-utilise them.

Writing 26 February 

Tonga like me!

Tailgate like me

Soon after leaving the we were accosted by a Tonga driver, what is a Tonga? - you may well ask. Well it is a splendid horse and trap and there were many of them but since this one spoke reasonable English I agreed to a trip around the major sights he would come to the hotel to pick us up the following day at 9am until mid-afternoon. Joan anxious I had been deceived again thought it unlikely the same man would show up the next day, rather he would send one of his non English speaking drivers, but he did slightly before nine to make sure we did not escape.

Bijapur had a new feature in that not only did cows eat and sleep on the streets (as allover India for cows are a sacred animal) but so did black pigs who resembled wild boar, which Joan identified on the basis the the young were brown and black striped to give them the benefit of camouflage. There is plenty of dust, plastic and general rubbish on Indian streets but except on market day there is little else, but surprisingly many animals appear to survive and even prosper in this fashion. Bijapur is one of many cities here with a long history and many reminders that in the past this was a citadel a enclosed by 15 km of wall much of which is standing today but much is now inaccessible due to shanty housing. It all but encompassed the railway station a 2.5 km west of our hotel and the centre 4 km to the east near the bus stand. 

I found the Tonga trip thoroughly engaging sitting in the front and even handling the reigns, shades of my youth delivering bread with my grandfather's bread van, he had a stick to make sure the horse kept a good speed but did not actually hit him but tapped the stick sharply in quick succession on the front of the carriage. Not only did I get first view of everything but got a good feel of city street life. From this vantage point I took many shots but the one I missed on was the time he went round the roundabout the wrong way forcing the oncoming rickshaws, motorbikes and lorries to swerve passing us on both sides. The horse still rules OK, he has right of way like a sailing ship but it takes a strong, or foolhardy man not to give way to superior force. 

Tonga-ing through cities old road
Meanwhile Joan who sat on the rear facing seat with legs extended down the loading board did not even feel secure against falling off. First stop was the major mosque the Jama Masjid, then the Mehtar Mahal, beautifully carved as viewed from the street 

Mehtar Mahal

Then the Ibrahim Rauza, a name which resounds like an African jazz piano genius we heard at Brecon recently. 

Ibrahim Rauza, Swedish trio sitting in distance

Here we spent a long time chatting to three Swedish tourists who I greeted with 'tola Svenzka' (drawing on my reserve knowledge of that language from my summer work experience in second year at university) they replied with the usual Indian street greeting  "what country? your name?'. The pensioner was particularly interesting she now lived on an island from which she and her family sailed on their holidays), she could quote Dylan Thomas better than us which is not saying a great deal and was a regular visitor to the Book Festival at Hay on Wye. (She said she lived on the West coast, I did not endear myself by quipping 'I thought Norway was the west coast of Sweden' though it was taken in the joking spirit it was said ). The other two a middle aged man who live near Gottenberg and a woman from near Malmo had not yet reached retiring age and hence they three were only on a quick three week break. Suddenly remembering we were paying for a driver who was waiting for us we took a hurried goodbye, without getting any contact details, and only a distant photograph in a general shot of the mosque - though they had plenty of us taken whilst we talking. We met yet again as they made their way on foot to the Fort with its enormous 55 ton canon, not far behind them was someone else they had met and who we had noticed at the mosque, who they described as a German architect. The younger woman took even more photographs of us before leaving to climb up further to the cannon.

Finally we went to the Bara Kaman a 17 century construction by Adil Shar 3rd designed as a follow up to his grandfather's great tomb the Gol Gumbaz for his own wife died before completion and only the first story was ever built, hence it has every right to appear as a part complete ruin. 

Bara Kaman

Later that day we walked the short distance from the hotel to the Gol Gumbaz the tomb of the original Adil Shah an impressive building set in a well watered park of lawns, trees and some flowers and plenty of green parrots to keep Joan happy. Its main claim to fame is to have the second largest unsupported dome in the world, and a whispering gallery full of the shrieking children. We find such places make very pleasant and peaceful to visit with many of the Indian public sitting in the shade under the big trees. In fact we paid a repeat visit the following evening just to feel again the ambiance and to take photographs in the lowering sun. I crossed onto a protected piece of lawn in the attempt to get the better angle I wanted, but this immediately brought a whistle from a security guard which I ignored so the young man man (just 20) hurried across. We spent the final 3/4 hour till closing time chatting to him about his job etc., which gave him a chance to show how well he could express himself in English. The security was a civil organisation part of the Archaeological survey of India and he had worked in several different sites and the hours allowed him to study "arts" at college at least one morning per week whilst returning to duty in the afternoon, exactly the sort of individual whom we feel sure will progress in life. Entry to this sort of site is 100rp for tourists but only 2rp for Indians. In the case of World Heritage sites then this increases to 250rp for foreigners of which Ibrahim Rauaza was the first we had encountered.

There were a few other European tourists ( mostly middle aged) around but we never made contact so exactly where they were staying remained a mystery. In the hope of meeting up again with the Swedish I wanted to eat dinner at the garden restaurant of Madhuvan Hotel which proved a good choice, our own hotel though probably superior in accommodation in its new annexe at least, had a restaurant which appeared to have no idea of the way to cater for the less spicy tastes of most tourists, including especially Joan. We went on eating Indian breakfasts there but after the very first night went to the Madhuvan for dinner.

Thinking there was much still to be seen of the old town we took a rickshaw to the centre and then walked around, amongst our discoveries was a line of typewriters who would type letters to order, a real throwback,

Want a letter written?

and then the newly restored remains of the palace Gagan Mahal. Here was a third site in a single town newly rescued by the Indian Archaelogical but closed until evening opening 4pm to 9.30, again now now enclosed in beautiful lawns but this time without entrance fees for anyone. Just a glimpse of what could be done to make Bijapur a pleasant place to live, one which will attract more and more tourists as its facilities improve and so allow the town to regain some of its prestigious history. They have a difficult path to tread, the easy first would be to clean up the large lake which runs along on side of Gagan Mahal 

Gagan Mahal

Further development will mean clearing the slum

The picturesque buffalo can stay

Joan's cough after appearing to improve was dealt a severe blow when mine which was also disappearing suddenly mutated into the most severe form yet and we both lost our voices. Joan never recovered and is for the first time ever counting down the days until she can leave. The dust, like a fine sand  in the streets, the spit in the dust (coughs and sneezes spread diseases) the fanning of dust in rooms by fans and air conditioning and her own susceptibility to chest infections has been too bad for too long for her to withstand. I have new hope of improving finally, with fingers crossed, even that is a long time for a problem that began in the first two weeks as an annoying tickle in my throat and has progressed to an inevitable hacking each evening on lying down and each morning restarts in an attempt to get over the effects of the night.