15/05/2011, 12:00
Filed under: India


we back to mumbai again,, we arrive like 5am and walk around some small streets , direction market. the light changes from dark to sunrise light,, the city starts to awaken. this is the funny part. the people start getting  up,, but no,, really. a guy pushes off his blanket,, rolls up his cardboard,, takes a leak. washes his face on the street tap,, then starts work. he well dressed too,, he ignites his fuel burner and starts preparing chai and vada at his chai stand. in half and hour time his stand is surrounded by a mini crowd of men. they too have shirts and troussers. they eat and drink standing. they 2 probably just got up ,, probably neighbours.   so we saw how people sleep on streets ,, but not as tramps. go work then sleep on a bench or cardboard,, amazing. so true,, why have a house!!

we go to the closed market to buy some spices to take back. its our last days in india. a man approches us and asks if we are look for black magik or something like that. we ask what is it . then realise its another kind of herb!! however we after the cooking herbs,, that stuff can be dealt wit later.   we find the spice man,, he tells us how all his spices are hand grinded,, certainly they do smell amazing, thats for sure. we ask him ”so you grind these spices with your own hands” he says no ,” my wife she does the grinding”.           .   a wife that grinds.

we then head back to our hosts place up town and go to the krisna temple for some dosa action. one last time.

we pack our stuff and cycle to the airport. how horrifik!! endin a cycle tour wit a flight,, at airport they greet us like super heros,, the arabian airlines are so nice. they dont weigh our bags even tho they are over weight limit and take our bikes for free. we tell them we dont want to dismantle them as that way they wont get thrown around and bust up. so they just push our bike onto the plane. on the plane a gentleman comes on board to hand muz his guitar that he forgot at the somosa bar.    we fly to Bahrain where we exchange flights.

20 hours wait at bahrain. on arrival to airport they play the call to prayer on loud speaker,, and play the prayers too. you see arabs start praying in airport, just like that on the floor, in the corner somewhere. in a way it still feels like india,,.

muz and ameile say their byes to each other. feels strange to separate our ways in a putain airport hub. after all this biking especially.  ameile is the first to depart, she catchs her flight to paris. muz stays another 10 hours for his flight to athens.

thats it the end of a start. and the start of a new End.



On passe quelques jours a Bombay avec Pauline et Assaf, heberges par des amis amis, Julien et Anne, deux des plus gentilles et cool personnes de la terre qui nous font trop nous sentir chez nous alors qu’on est malades, enfin surtout amelie… Pauline et Assaf decident de partir vadrouiller tous les deux dans la region autour de Bombay et essayer de trouver les coins sans touristes. Nous on decide d’aller rejoindre Rita, une portugaise sympa rencontree a Udaipur, a Arambol, dans Goa. Il ne nous reste que quelques jours avant le grand depart, et on voudrait encore profiter des plages avant le retour… On a plus l’energie de vadrouiller a droite a gauche, on a besoin de se poser, c’est fou…

Alors on petit dejeune avec Pauline et Assaf, indian style, chapatis et compagnie, on fait un dernier point sante car Pauline et Amelie sont toujours un peu malades, on se ballade en ville, on se dit au revoir et a tres bientot puisqu’il est prevu de se revoir a Marseille, et on prend notre train qui demarre juste au coup de sifflet final du match de cricket qui rend l’Inde championne du monde! Les gens sont contents mais en fait ca reste plutot calme dans le train. Par contre pendant le match, les rues sont blindees, les bars, cafes, tout, les cris, les ecrans de tele partout avec les gens attroupes autour. Bonne ambiance, bien encadre par la police bien sur..

Arambol… La station a touristes… 😦 Heureusement c’est la fin de saison et il n’y a pas grand monde. Tant mieux… On se trouve une chambre pas chere du coup. Amelie fait une mauvaise experience avec des antibiotiques… Elle qui n’en prend jamais, voila qui va la conforter dans ses choix : des antibiotiques qui rendent depressifs, vous connaissez??? Peut etre pas par chez vous, et pourtant, ca peut arriver! Voila, trois jours de depression, on vous epargne les details, on sait tous a peu pres ce que c’est, et la ca a ete assez intense quand meme. L’etat est redevenu normal apres avoir arrete ces antibio, heureusement 🙂 Mais a preciser quand meme : c’est du cas par cas. Murat avait pris les memes au tout debut du sejour en Inde et il n’a pas eu ces effets la…

Voila, quelques derniers jours au soleil et retour à bombay, chez anne et julien, et préparations pour le grand retour : envoi de colis et compagnie.. on a un avion ensemble avec murat jusqu’à Bahrain puis amélie prend un avion pour paris, et murat pour athènes…. fin du voyage à deux.
il fut beau, difficile, grandiose, intenable, merveilleux, énervant, éblouissant, fatiguant, enrichissant, étourdissant, exténuant,magique, troublant, déconcertant, magnifique… on a tellement appris, on a cru tellement comprendre, et aujourd’hui encore, presque deux ans après ce jour à l’aéroport ce voyage continue de nous nourrir encore, chaque jour. un rêve réalisé, ça nourrit, vous le saviez? 🙂

fin du voyage et le début d’un nouveau, différent, retour aux pays d’origines mais avec l’âme enrichie de tant d’expériences et de belles rencontres…

surtout la notre 🙂


cricket world cup final


09/05/2011, 11:59
Filed under: India




so> volieeeeeeeeA    we pick the Assif man at Mooooooooooumbai. we hang out the four> make a joke that give it 5 days he too will have the belly N rear problemz that we are still experiencin. in the end he doesnt actually get any rear issues.—!! BRAVO!!            we stay with a beautiful french couple (Julien et Ann near the princess hotel area of town> and spend the next few days packing up our stuff to send back as a parcel. since  we have now decided to do some back packing.our last 2weeks in India. is babylone calling???

Assif N pauline decide to do go off and do some romantiks together and head to find non tourit areas> Muz and Am decide to head back to the Beach lifestyle and experience a little holiday again> one last time!!!  so we have a last breakfast together make chapatiis on the stove fire.  chappatiS Ended up  better than the indians actually. \

We head towards Goa- Arambol as Rita sends us a message saying its pretty chilled there. so off we go.

our train is at midnightish from the V.T. train station. muzY takes a bottle of kingfisher from the fridge & we try head to the coast line area to chill but its all blocked off due to the cricket final. cant drink beer too !! we shoulder glimpse at the cricket final with the enormous growing crowd outside the modern coffee shop. as  coffee place has a tele. cricket mad.   crowds form around anywhere there is a tele.

we head to station and watch the last overs of the match on the street. from a tv in a tree. drums,, shouting,, silence, sweat, AN EXperience . an atmosphere for sure.  the last over ,, india might do it!!  but we gotta go tho. so we rush off to leap onto the train> as the train pulls out.—–the fireworks set off,, some cries,, joys. a blast!!!  so we understand that india has won. world champs!!  no surprise. Krisna must be proud of his boys>


get off train with 2 frenchies and head towArds Arambol. A crowd of cab drivers N rikshawERs are lurking at train station. they tell us that there is no bus to Arambol etc etc. we know they are full of crap so we walk down the hill and jump on the local bus. its packed out and we the only foreigners on board as the others fell for the cab drivers trick.

we walk down towards the beach hunting out for Rita,, one the frenchies goes to the bushes, to do the number 2. so we head on, as he takes a while. we catch Rita on a roof top sipping some lassie with a young dreadlock white rasta lookin dude- dave his name,, the music buddy of robbie. we chill talk and head to the beach>. ameile hits the sack as belly upset again.  on the way to beach muz meets the jungle man. Jungle man is his real name,, well thats what he calls him self> we sit down next to him and his medicines. he tells us how he takes the roots from the jungle and makes medicines etc.  just sitting next to him chills you out man. trancin. meditETive vibes. He shows us photos of his ancestors from the jungle,, his grandfarthA with a primativ spearrr an all,, big white beard ,1/2 naked ,, rag round waist, top etc with painted face colours. looks the part man must say> he takes muz’s hand feels his pulse and gives him the low down,,, ”your so and so is not working properly”,, ”your dick this N that”. ”your liver this N that”> ”What!!!””  sound like shit man,,, then he refers to his cure,………obviously, the jungle man’s medicine from the jungle, PURE,  —    R O O TZ    —. expensive too.  Muz takes Amelie to the jungle man the next day,, he pulls out the same jiberish ON her,, but the woman version,  ‘Bien sur’. ie instead of dick problem ,,  lady triangle problem >  you guessed it mate.  however dont get rasta wrong n all,,, mean 2 say— talking to Mr Jungle man is nice and relaxing,, he is in his ‘own world’ and makes money from the occasional random Tourist,, his English is not so good either,, but    neither-the-less   he has memorised the problems well.  so he gives the same speach to everybody we Reckons. his presence and wat he repreZents is true,, from the rootz. the jungle man. peace.

After passing the jungle Man, the walk leads to a smaller less quiet beach. less peeps, and there is a sweet lake that joins the sea. we swim in the lake amoungst trees and grass, jungle style, its a wierd feeling but very sensational. then crawl out,, walk next door and we hit the waves in the sea. !!

we hang out in Goa on the beach all day long,, mostly with Rita> she cool man> she however cant stop buying and gets a little addicted to bargaining. womans come to Goa pay some bakseesh to the cop man and get to sell necklesses to beach GoAerZ.   In gokarna it was fruit sellerZ ,, here its neckless braclets etc>  Rita buys from every body as she cant say ”no” the poor sweet heart.      bless .    muz one day grabs the ladies blankets, her braclets etc and spends a few hours walking up Ndown the beach to help her sell her stuff. the lady comes from the south and has her family there. however she has an opportunity to make some petit cash from the touristA— so she comes here during the season>..   liFe.

we also saw the planet Satern for 10 rupees. some mad Italien fella ,, in his lates,, but still in his youngs too. he took our nite and explained the universe. muz Am N rita couldnt walk away….. he sits on the beach every year and pulls out his telescope. apparently a Russian copied his idea down in Gokarna, he told us>but he is the original master  ,, so pass it on.  he told us that nowadays people dont care bout astronomy and he finds rare oportunities to edukate peeps about the skies above us. listening to him was like understanding algerbra for the 1st time, a language that opens gates to the mathematikal  heavens.

05/05/2011, 12:59
Filed under: India

on arrival there is a little mismatching goin on outside: everybody is off the bus  and a crowd around the baggages has formed. not sure if we have arrived in udaipur as communication is difficult for some reason. everybody apart from the oldies are still on the bus. so we decide to get off,, get our stuff,, ignore the crowd arguments and cycle towards udaipur centre.

we text pauline saying  ‘‘dont worry man we coming”  and an hour later, round sunset catch her chilling by the road side. wonderfull. delightful. we spend the evening catching up,, she offers us some  french chocolate and we melt away with sensations.

Udaipur is a  little like a small indian Paris in a way,, in the way its pretty . romantic. and has indian couples in love walking around sitting on roof tops watching over the lake and the palaces. every nite some place shows the octopussy james bond movie. so we got together with our new crew and checked out the main man  Roger moore. the next day we checked out these famous palaces from Mr bonds adventures. the boat with the ladies island thing from the film is still in the middle of the bloody lake!  there are also water buffalos in the same lake , and so are some locals washing clothes and themselves too. sunset point has camels and indian tourists, they gather around and watch the sunset and hold hands. CUTE. they then put on an orange lifejacket and take a boat ride to the middle of the lake where there is the royalship high class palace,, the one where mr bond has martini and checks out the swimming pool candy. the boat does not stop off at the palace and just circles it and comes back: actually not many people can go to the palace. its very high class,, something rediculous like 1000 dollars for lunch, comes with swiming pool too. also you have to be invited. the rootz werent invited unfortunately so together with pauline they cycled towards the tiger lake instead. Po hired a hercules one speed bike for the day. we rode ride through the surrounding villages; along bendy small roads. Rajistan is very colourful,, and the womanz carry buckets of water on their heads like no mans business. heavy heavy loads. at the lake we didnt spot any crocs there as apparently there is two little ones. some indians were diving in, so muz joined them while Am and Po got chatted up by the beautiful gypsies Kids.

we just hung out here in udaipur,, was a bit touristy but still low season. went to check out some dance at the cultural centre,, and there we filled up our drinking water everyday as it was free. drank juice at G2 juice joint, walked bare feet in the temple and didnt do much else.

we stayed with some fella named G2, a real Geezer.A bit like moma, he wanted to cook  us food every nite, but we always did a runner as he was pretty pricey. And we found a real gud, real cheap tahli joint in town. At G2 place we make friends with Rita robbie and a couple on motorbike from Bristol. pauline cracks up her french wine together with her smelly cheese and suddenly she is everybodys best friend. Robie plays ‘hey joe’ on the guitar with a solo on his harmonicia too. he shoots down his lady pretty Gud, amazing actually/ so muz finds a guitar buddy to chill with while the girls do the girlie that monday afternoon. w also bump into Alex the portagesse fella from gokarna beach. small place.

—————–       ——————————–                 ——————————                  ——————————————


Quelle belle ville! On dit que c’est la ville la plus romantique de l’Inde. Une des plus touristique en tout cas, ça, c’est sûr!

On retrouve enfin Pauline!!!! Ça fait trop plaisir! Elle nous attend sur la place de la photo au dessus avec le temple et les oiseaux, comme si elle avait toujours habité là. Heureuses retrouvailles.

Mais on est pas en forme, on est vraiment fatigués du voyage et on dort beaucoup! Et Pauline elle, arrive tout droit de Babylone, alors il lui faut du temps pour se poser… On s’ajuste et on s’adapte, quoi.

On se la coule douce en tout cas. On se ballade dans les rues super touristiques près de la guest house, et beaucoup moins touristiques un peu plus loin dans les rues du bazar. On a trouvé un petit “thali place” un resto à thali, trop bon et trop pas cher, un vrai resto indien, pas un truc à touristes…

On part deux journées en ballade à vélo et ça nous fait un bien fou, ça nous ressource! On part voir un lac artificiel avec son barrage où Muz se fait des copains de plongeons pendant que Pauline et Amélie font connaissance avec les gamines et gamins du coin. Et on fait aussi le tour du lac à vélo, on y rencontre gens, vaches et singes.. On regarde James Bond, Octopussy, puisque c’est la ville où ça a été tourné et ils le montrent dans toutes les guesthouses de la ville.. On va aussi voir un petit spectacle de danse et culture indiennes, assez impressionnant.

Puis il est temps de prendre un train pour Bombay pour aller cette fois chercher le copain de Pauline, Assaf.

05/05/2011, 11:59
Filed under: India


A Margao, les touristes, ils connaissent bien. Très bien même…

La même histoire se répète chaque fois qu’on doit prendre le train : il faut qu’on aille au service des colis pour faire enregistrer nos vélos pour les mettre dans le wagon bagages. Mais cette fois ils nous demandent des sous en plus : “c’est parce que votre train arrivera au quai numéro 3, alors les porteurs prennent une petite surcharge”. Bon. Ok, pourquoi pas. On se pose sur le quai n°1 avec nos énormes sacs de 20kg au moins chacun. Sur ce un autre porteur de la gare arrive et nous demande si on voudrait pas qu’il nous prennent nos gros sacs jusqu’au quai n°3… Comment sait-il qu’on prend le train pour Dehli et qu’il arrive au quai n°3?? Car même au guichet d’informations, ils ne pouvaient le savoir que 20minutes avant l’arrivée du train! Donc on refuse d’abord, mais il insiste et Murat finit par dire oui… Et nous voila partis à marcher tout au bout du quai, traverser les voies, et il nous descend tous nos gros sacs sur le quai. Sauf que, 20minutes avant notre train, on entend par le haut parleur annoncer qu’il va bien arriver, mais au quai n°1! Super! Donc on l’a un peu mauvaise quand même, pas tant pour les sous que pour le fait qu’on se retrouve à tout re-porter sur l’autre quai, car le porteur s’est bien sûr fait la malle! On finit par le retrouver 10minutes avant que le train parte, et Murat tente sans grande conviction de récupérer nos sous, ou tout de moins de lui montrer qu’on est pas dupes et qu’on a bien compris son manège…

Experts en touristes, ces porteurs!


Nos vélos sont donc bien montés dans le même train que nous (apparemment dès fois il arrive que ça parte dans le train d’après!) mais à l’arrivée, le vélo d’Amélie a un peu souffert : le porte bagages, déjà cassé et ressoudé en Mongolie, a encore lâché! Réparation éclair aux câbles plastiques et gros scotch, ça tiendra bien jusqu’à la station de bus qui se trouve à quelques kilomètres. La gare de routière de Delhi est inimaginable! On dirait qu’une  bombe a explosé là-dedans : il y a des pierres et des trous de partout, pas de trottoir entre les bus et le quai, pas d’allées, des petites huttes qui font office de guichets, et bien sûr il y a un monde fou! Après quelques instants de perdition totale on trouve notre chemin en le demandant toutes les 4 secondes car on est jamais trop sûrs de là où on va… Notre bus pour Rishikesh stationne un peu plus loin, et il va bientôt partir! On grimpe comme d’hab’ sur le toit pour y accrocher les vélos et on rentre les derniers dans le bus… On se retrouve tout au fond du bus, entre deux gars d’un age moyen, assis chacun à leurs fenêtres. Celui à côté de Muz lui pose plein de questions sur notre situation financière en Europe et surtout sur notre relation : est-on mariés? non!? Alors il faut lui expliquer qu’en Europe c’est différent etc etc… À côté d’Amélie vient s’assoir un mec qui pourtant était assis un peu plus à l’avant. Elle le sent un peu collant et lui fait comprendre très vite qu’il faut qu’il arrête tout de suite ses tentatives d’avachissements sur elle. Il comprend à peu près mais sort son portable de sa poche et commence à regarder des clips un peu “olé olé”, qui assez vite, passent carrément au porno! Sympa! Il fait mine de le cacher au début mais au bout de quelques minutes tourne carrément le portable vers Amélie afin qu’elle puisse bien voir de quoi il s’agissait. Il devait sûrement se dire qu’à coup sûr ça allait lui plaire, et qu’elle allait descendre avec lui au prochain arrêt pour aller dans l’hôtel le plus proche! C’est malheureusement l’impression que donne les indiens de 30-35 ans : qu’ils se font des gros films sur les occidentales! Amélie demande donc à Muz d’échanger leurs place, que Muz ne cède pas facilement (s’était-il pris d’affection pour le vieux monsieur curieux?). On échange donc de place, au grand désappointement du mec au porno qui range aussi sec son portable.

On arrive à Rishikesh à 3 ou 4h du mat’, et il fait super froid!! Enfin, c’est qu’on avait pris goût à la chaleur du sud.. On essaie de trouver une guesthouse mais tout est fermé, donc on erre dans la petite ville, on en fait le tour dans la nuit, c’est vide et venteux, étrange atmosphère.. On revient donc vers la station de bus où on y trouve les seuls “chai shops” d’ouverts, et on se pose pour boire un chai et manger des bons gâteaux indiens. Plus tard dans la matinée on trouve une guest house : chez Mama, et c’est comme chez Mama, elle nous appelle tous “son” et “daughter” et elle est très connue pour ses délicieux thalis qu’elle sert tous les soirs dans sa petite cour.

On reste quelques jours à Rishikesh, on se balade, on va voir les temples etc.. Puis on décide de monter plus haut dans les montagnes et de s’enfoncer un peu dans l’Himalaya. Alors on prend un bus, c’est 7 heures de trajet qui passe par des paysages magnifiques! Des vues du Gange coulant au milieu des montagnes parfois verdoyantes, parfois rocailleuses, et des sommets enneigés à l’horizon. Notre bus a une crevaison une heure avant d’arriver, alors on s’arrête, ça nous fait une petite pause. Ils réparent la chambre à air… et remettent le même pneu qui a plus d’un gros trou dedans! On arrive quand même à bon port, Uttarkashi, à la nuit tombée, et on se pose dans un hôtel en haut d’une côte.

Le lendemain, ballade dans la montagne. On aperçoit les sommets de l’Himalaya tous enneigés, c’est trop beau! On roule un peu jusqu’au prochain village et on revient sur Uttarkashi. On se ballade dans le marché et Muz essaie de jouer au cricket avec les gamins sur la grande place. On aurait bien voulu aller plus haut dans les montagnes, mais c’était le tout début de la saison, et aucun bus ne montait plus haut, il aurait fallu prendre une jeep, trop chère pour notre budget…

On revient donc sur Rishikesh et on se prépare à redescendre dans le sud, car notre super copine, Pauline, va bientôt arriver!!! Mais il y a d’abord le festival des couleurs : “holi”, grand festival en Inde ou tout le monde se jette des couleurs en répétant “happy holi”! Nos voisins de chambre descendent en ville et reviennent couverts des pieds à la tête! Muz y va ensuite -Amélie est toujours un peu malade, y’en a marre!- et se baigne dans le Gange pour se laver 3 fois d’affilée. On devait être à Udaipur avec Pauline, mais notre bus s’est retrouvé annulé à cause du festival! En Inde, faut vraiment pas être pressé ni avoir d’impératifs…

On reste donc quelques jours de plus et on fait un petit détour par une magnifique cascade dans laquelle on se baigne et on se sent revivre! Muz se rebaptise aussi pour l’occasion : c’est un nouveau Jean-Muz qui voit le jour!

Le lendemain nous enfourchons nos vélos pour un tout petit trajet de 20km pour aller prendre notre bus pour Udaipur dans le Rajasthan, où Pauline nous attend.


SO WE  ride down to the station early to check in our bikes at the parcel office.,, parcel office man asks for some pocket cash to transport the bike onto the train: amelie asks why as this is first time they ask for this. he says some crap like “” platform 3 is on the other side of station and have to cross railway 1 km down the line”” ok wat- ever man, save it.     Rootz hand overr the petit cash. as we want our bikes to get on that dam train.   we decide to check out if the train really leaves at Platform 3,, the boss man at the Box office says they dont know and will only know 20 mins B4 train arrives. ok,, so we wait at platform 1 ,, as our bags are pretty heavy  to carry.——————— some porter dude comes up to us and asks if we need a hand to carry our bags to platform 3,, “”how does he know we are goin to Dehli””,, and he know its platform 3  too,, if the boss man dont know. how he know?? RASTA.Bloodcartt!  mr porter man so sweet and gud looking, thin and charming,, after a few laughs muzz says “”ok man carry that shit, i give ya a hand”” so together the skinny indian and skinyish Turk put the bags on theiR headz and walk the 1 Km and head to platform 3.   so, 20 mins B4 train arrives, the bossman announces platform 1 for our train to Skaville. and we stuck on platform 3 wit all our crap, and the porter man has done a runner!!. what a wanker.     we accept we got skanked and carry our crap back to platform 1. on our heads too.  muz hunts down the mr skinny porter,, no sight of him. he probably eating a somasa or two with his magiK 50 ruppees, muz tinks. 5 mins later,we see him and with love and giggles of course the Turk asks him “” yo man, i helpd u carry that crap to platform 3, then we carried it back alone. so that makes 50 plus 50 plus 50 ruppees for money u robbed off us” give me back ma money BeeATach,”” 150 ruppees BROTHA!! “”  he smiles, charmingly and muz cracks up too.. what love. the two hugg each other,, as the porter did a great job to skank us. IMPRESSIVE :  he earned his 50ruppees well. sowell infact that he didnt give it bak, nor did we want it back.  WE GOT SKANKED TWICE!! GUD N HARD. the porter man then tipped off the bike baggage guy for the platform 3 trick!!   funny sShite.


we arrived to the spider web of the vastnass, Dehli. Amelie’s rack is bust from the train ride , so Am puts some zip wires , some chinesse GaffA tape and off we cycle towards the IBS bus station.  we see about an hour or 2 of dehli, as dont wana get stuck there. looks pretty done up in this part of town,, wide roads with traffic lights and lamposts etc: anyways we get to the IBS bus station round dark. its looks pretty horrifiK actually,, like a bomb went off a week ago and theY putting the pieces bak together. we ask around for the bus to RISHIKESH,, we find it and some man hassles us saying we gotta  catch the bus behind. as its his friend’s bus we reckonz. he so persistant N annoyin, we gotta leave man. that we quickly strapp our bikes ontop of the 1st bus, we starving but no time to eat as bus leaving in 2 mins. the bus starts pulling out the station with muz still on the roof top strapping down the 2Nd bike. the peeps yell at the driver and smack the dented steel side of the local bus to get his attention. he stops driving, muz climbs down, and squeezes himself towards the rear of the bus to sit next to amelie. the bus is packed out. the man next to muz´s left offers some sweets and starts the questioning: the usual questions about how much money one makes in the West compared to india, marriage etc: he gets annoying after 1 hour as he really pushes the questions  and cant accept how we can stay in a room together if we not married. Amelie gives muz a gentle  elbow nudge, and muz makes up that we getting married for the sake of argument. the man still cant get his head round it. muz tries to nod off to sleep but sweetman still fires away. on the other side of the back bench. Amelie is sitting next to a wierdo, and next to him, right in the corner is another wierdo sitting in the standard yoga position so that nobody sits next to him.  takes up like half the back row or somethin. so the wierdo on amelies right is compressed onto her. he pulls out his phone and watches some porn. he  slightly tilts his video towards amelie. amelie is not pleased. the porno wierdo actually had a seat in front but he changed places with his friend so he can get squashed up next to amelie. so muz changes places with Amelie. Amelie gets blasted with the marriage religion questions and muz gets some porno. we nodd off,,, its really cold. we get woken up 4 hours later by some shiverring as the plastic window fell off. And we hadnt anticipated the cold. But the good news is that both wierdos have left,, actually only 2 others are on the bus. its round midnight and the bus starts its ascend towards the mountains. the driver drives like a mad man over the speed bumbs, we levitate off our seats , hitting our heads on the roof and the 2nd plastic window falls out.

we arrive like 3 or 4am into Rishi, the same place were the beatles stayed in the ashram and got hippified etc:

we put on all our clothes, some lights and cycle towards some ashram to try n get a place to sleep. recover from the madness.  everywhere is shut,, all lights out. the only people on the streets are the homeless peeps wrapped up fast assleep in their woolen blankets. we contemplate on doing the same. we bumb into a forienger on an acid trip on the suspension bridge, he asks for water. we direct him to the other side of the bridge.                                                          its actually really peacefull and we enjoy cyclin around town at night. we cycle around for bout 2 hours until first place opens. A tea master starts boiling some water and milk to make tea,, we sit in his small room. hand over the 10 ruppes and wait for his splendid warm chai. we are his first customers,, its still dark outside and the homeless guys start getting up. they head here as its the first place to get warmed up. its really nice sitting in silence, wrapped up sipping chai next to some dudes from tha streetz.   round 5 am we head back to the bus station to try N get some breakie,, we eat cookies with chai and wait for sunrise aT some cool cafe place where the geezer wears shades wen cooking on the fire. the rickshaw drivers hang out waiting like fishermen for the morning bus to arrive, and one cool kat blasts out some Hindi tunes from his hipstarr yellow Ricksaw wit kitted out blue neon flashing lights and heavy sound system. the drivers bounce, sipp chai and enjoy their early start to their work.

we bopPse into town at light and head to the hill top, in search of the swiss cottage place. the cottAge is full, however we bumb into our friend Mr colin from the south. we are delighted to see him and likewise he is quite pleased to see us again. we have breaksfast together in the warm bakery/cafe at the cottage. again we are the first customers and we see some crossants appearing form the oven. we chatt away and enjoy the mountain view over Rishi. Colin tells us that next door there is a Mama and she makes the best tahli in the Hood. so we head over to her joint to find a room as its full at the cottage. mama is ACE, she places us in some room in her house next to the living room and charges us only 130 ruppees a nite. pretty cheap man. she makes us massala chai and we meet the crew at her guest house.  that evening, chez Mama is two tables full of peeps munching away at her homemade thali. tasty.  she calls every body ‘son’ or ‘daughther’ and likewise everybody calls her mama. it feels like at home, like back with mummy and she takes care of us and her children.

here in Rishikesh iz the annual Yoga festival. so many flexi people are in town reading bout some guru or wotnot and walking around with yoga mats. we even bumb into Donald again (geezar that fixed up muz wit sulphur for his belly in chennai), he is outside the ashram where all the brazilians hangout . he is there as they give out free food and filtered water. he is the master at  finding the freebees. Actually better than us. impressiFF fella must say.


we decide to take a 150 km trip to Uttarkashi to get deeper into the himalayas. again we take a local bus and strap bikes ontop. a 7 hour climb,, and a absolutely stunning view of the mountains and valley. Half way up the  bus tyre get a puncture,, so they stop off and start fixing itt. the dudes on the bus head over to a hut and get chai and watch the india VS s. africa Cricket match. muz joins them and bites into his crackers crawling wit ants. this fella obviously hasnt had visiters for a while,, so he has chai like the rest of the crew. we arrive late at UttarKashi. we are the only foreingers here ,, its nice to get away from the foreingers a bit.

the next day we find out you need a permit to get to HarSIL 3000m, and plan B, a cycle to some lake is blocked due to some avalanches or something. so instead we cycle up to the next town along the valley and have a pique nique , indian style. see some snow peaks. we pop into the wedding to say hi,, then head back down the hill to sleep at our hotel Everest. we take a walk around town ,, its really nice and in the square everybody is playing cricket,, muz even gets in there and has a little go with the kids. the grown ups are too serious about cricket to let him play.

its coming up to holi, the super major festival of colour:so we head back to Rishikesh, back to Mamas place!  shame tho, as mama is a full house,no space. so we check in next door. they 2 give us a really gud deal. in the evening we eat the famous mama thali again as she hunts us down from next door and sits us down,, like mama hey:  Everyday she catches us. one day we escape and eat in town,, but feel really bad and ashamed. but hey,, we needed a change of diet.

the weekend, we tried to leave Rishi to meet our Dearest Friend paulinette, who had just arrived in Mumbai: however our Bus got cancelled Due to Holi. No train, no buses till another 3/4 days. well all for the best as Holi here in Rishi is the holyist place to B ish. on the day of holi,, after our free holi cake at breakie/  AM stayed in as not feelin so well .AND  muz put on his swim shorts and headed into town with just his swiming shorts on. was AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!   !      !!!!!!!! everybody  throwing paint on each other,, water everything. some madness and some love tooo. then later peeps would dive into the Ganga river to wash off the paint. muz dived in 3 times to wash, as each time he came out he got covered in paint again. it was sunny outside, warm actually but once in the water its F#ki### COLD !

After holi,, we cycled to HARIWAR; we arrive earlier than expected and hangout in the town B4 our bus to Udaipur,, where pauline is waiting for us. we chill at the ganges river and watch dudes rock up and wash,, its the hangout. some fellla shaves his head leaving a mynute piggy tail and dives in. a street boy comes by and fishes out ruppees with his magnet attached to a piece of cotton string. he finds one too. quite clever. we get a sleeper bus, meaning a double bed on a bus. we get our own compartment, slide open the plastic window and gaze over at the ruggad lanscape, watch the sunset, get some breeze. its nice being lazy . rajastastan landscape is a bit like the kazak steppe.

in abit

the cool cafe dude,, wears shades for the fire,   Rishikesh.

oops there goes another film,, some more lost shots. trapped in infinate space

this fella jumps on board with his goats

A new muz, after going under water and opening the eyes and listening to the bubbles, he came out new, refreshed and Baptised—now known as Jean Muz . #the perfume#

amelie did the same,,

we got invaded by monkeys,, the dogs loved it and momma went about chasing them with her stick. they stole our nuts and the one pomagrange that we paid 32ruppes for. cheeky monkey

our canadian friends from mommas place,, a day out during Holi

05/05/2011, 11:59
Filed under: India

GOA, Margao & Benaulim

HEY      ZoeSPh,,     where u Goin with thAt ### in Ur hand

we get up early, leave our Gokarnan bamboo hut and push our bikes along the wettish part of the beach. its red sunrise times,, cows still sleeping on the beach , we need a coffee.  . but we finally out this place. Goa here we come:

so we get to Margoa, Goa.  muz fixes his puncture. we head to the Benaulim beach to find a place to kip. we find a tasty looking joint on the roadside, so stop of for some food, an attempt to taste some Goan specialties.                     The waiter has a moustache and a running nose, but he plays it cool as he places the chapatis on the table, without rubbing his nose.

we decide to check out every guest house in town with the attempt to find the cheapest ,, so it worked.       we found one for 150ruppes, comes with shower, sitting toilet, a fan, and a wooden table and 2 chairs man. splendid mate. and pretty spacious too. we push our bikes inside and pop open a bottle of wine (sweet port actually).  and have an #apero# with cheese and crackers on our table and chairs. we light a candle and insense stick. CHILL

Apparently mr hotel dude told us that b4 us, there was a cycling couple from france and they too stayed in the very same room. room no 1.  Apparently they liked it so much,  got toooooo comfy infact  and ended up staying for 3months or somethin. must hav been the wooded  table and chairs.

so we headout into the streetZ to check out the scene a bit. wat a gowanin.    there is a church.    indians singin choir songs,, loads of expensive restaurants for the holiday makers and a few dozen tourist shop sellers annoying us each time we walk by.” hello my friend,, what is your good name sir” etc etc.  we realise we are in the wrong place man. at the german bakery we find a flyer that lookish kindy youthy–some live blues rock concert thing–some band—  so we cycle down some dark paths and find the place by listening with our ears. we take a seat, actually 2 seats ,, and  , have some of the this port thing as its cheaper than the banana lassie. the band is pretty shit actually. and we are surrounded by people in theiR 60’s, maybe 50’s. everybody here in margoa is in that age group,, reckon is the hippies that stayed on from the times wen GOa was a bit more ravey.      so the indian rockish band plays ##hey zoe##  we get happy,, but however he dont shoot his lady down so well in that jimi line, no passion man. so we get up and leave  as the next act is even worse!!. the barman gives us a discount and says ” sorry i know this guy is bad but on monday it will be better”  .   we thinking monday we b out of this place!!

in the end we ended up staying till wednesday as after going to the beach and sitting on that table,, well….we got quite into the quiet oldie style. got comfy.    again felt like being on holiday, except like one with the parents, but with no parents of course!


GOA, à Margao et Benaulim

Goa, on en avait tellement entendu parler… Mais on savait pas quoi en penser. À la base on voulait pas y aller, mais on était coincés à Gokarna, et Goa était l’endroit d’où partent tous les trains pour ailleurs…

On y est donc restés quatre jours, le temps d’attendre un train (faut pas être pressé en Inde). Goa, c’est l’état, et nous on est allés se poser à Benaulim, la plage la plus proche de Margao (une des villes principales de Goa).L’ambiance, c’était plutôt transats sur la plage occupés par des russes en famille, donc ambiance pas très jeune, très différent de Gokarna. Pas trop notre style, quoi, mais bon, on s’adapte! Le bon côté c’est qu’on avait une chambre super pas chère (ça y est c’est la fin de saison et ils cassent les prix) et très grande avec une table, donc on a pas mal cassé la croute dedans, ça faisait du bien de choisir son menu! On a aussi passé du temps dans Margao et ses forts sympathiques bazars et marchés, et rendu visite à un bijoutier.

Puis nous revoilà partis en train pour un trajet d’un jour et demi pour arriver a Delhi.


cup of tea mate ?

thaTs ma Doggg !