The Descent

Friday 23rd May

- the descent
- Abu Road station - a new low!
- back to Ahmedabad
- Hotel Shonky - another new low!

not the best of days, and one where no photographs were taken, fatigue and disinterest in our surroundings making us disinclined to immortalise the things that we saw. read on to discover exactly why...

Mount Abu was hit by numerous power cuts during the night, with the subsequently failing ceiling fan overhead lending itself well to the now customary poor sleep before early travelling routine. unfortunately, the alarm went off for us to finish packing and leave right in the middle of a particularly long power cut. we floundered around in the dark at the frankly ungodly hour of 4am, trying and failing to get our torches to work (they have been slowly dying ever since we arrived in India, and it isn't the batteries). the hotel's nightwatchman gave us a knock on the door in case we'd overslept for the taxi, proffering lit candles to light our room. it lent the room an atmospheric air, even if it merely helped to heighten the shadows! shortly afterwards, he appeared again, this time with a powerful flashlight, and we could at last finish up. we have absolutely no idea how we managed not to leave several valuable or important items behind in our stygian scramble, but somehow everything seemed to make it out of the Shri Ganesh with us.

clumping down the stairs with our packs in the faltering flashlight's beam, the nightwatchmean - a man whose position we did not know existed until this morning - helped us load the bags into the waiting taxi jeep. we had not seen weather like this for our entire trip so far. thick mist had descended on the blacked-out town, the air wet and heavy. already it was clear that the zigzag down the mountain's sides would be slow and take longer than the journey up, so we were grateful for the early start, even with its accompanying difficulties. we set off, with the headlights too weak to penetrate the mist on low beam, and merely bouncing back off the precipitation if placed on high beam. not all of the town was in darkness, as it turned out, but those patches that were illuminated were few and far between. someone appeared to be washing the road with a hose at one point, an odd activity for 4:30am in the morning. unsurprisingly, ours was the only car on the road.

the descent was prolonged, gloomy and rather dangerous. as we couldn't see the road; we were intrigued to know how the young but obviously skilled driver could. he drove carefully and safely all of the way down, skirting helpfully placed obstacles such as parked trucks on bends with aplomb on a mountain road so serpentine that Jain stone carvers would have been proud, a road that was lined with a grand total of four lights. we're sure that many a poorer driver would have sailed off through a barrier into space, so non-existent was the visibility. looking back behind us, the mist would sometimes swoop down over where the jeep had been only moments before, like a predator pursuing its prey, or flood waters racing down a valley. the weird scene was given added oddity points when we passed several figures dressed in white pushing two occupied wheelchairs up the hill, those seated also white clad. we knew from their uniforms that they were Om Shanti devotees, on their way to the Brahma Kumaris centre, but their ghostly presence and total lack of lighting to guide their way gave the sight of such white apparitions an unearthly quality. and at what time must they have commenced their long and arduous ascent?

it would be a lie to say that we were not at least a little concerned with the driving conditions and it was with genuine relief that the mountain road levelled out, the mist dissipated and we cruised down to Abu Road railway station on roads unaffected by the power cut higher up. our arrival at the railhead at around 5:30am was heralded by a man vomiting copiously at a public water tap outside. although certainly unpleasant, this would in fact set the tone for the next hour or so and set us up well for the general mood of the day that was to come.

our train was almost on time, according to the arrivals board and also to the enquiries officer, a man who did not even move from his feet-up-at-the-back-of-the-office position to respond to customers. it would be only 20 minutes late, great stuff considering it originated in Delhi the previous day. this meant that we had only an hour to wait. this was the silver lining to the cloud that was even being at Abu Road station. it was the filthiest we have seen in India, which is against some pretty stiff competition. it may well be the filthiest railway station we've ever been to in the world. how we had missed its condition when we arrived is unclear; maybe because we walked through it from the train in seconds

the first thing that hit us was the smell. less than pleasant odours abound in India, unavoidable where cows are allowed free roam and drainage is often rudimentary at best, and you do become fairly inured to them for the majority of the time. however, Abu Road station was truly exceptional. the entire railhead stank like a blocked and overflowing latrine; Edd made the mistake of casting a glance at the rail tracks once, and it turned out that we were correct. they were obscured from view by vast piles of garbage and, as Uncle Monty would say, oomska carpeting the space between the platforms. people clearly pay very little attention to the 'Please Do Not Flush when Train Is In Station' signs. rats popped merrily back and forth among the detritus as passengers on the platforms did their best to add to it. a huge cockroach was spotted chuntering around under the portable chai stand. the water taps that Indian railways had helpfully placed between the tracks on the ground dripped into fetid pools of stagnant water. the platform was dirty and stained. when people crossed the tracks, as they frequently do in India since the trains run off overhead electricity wires, they covered their mouths and nose in haste and distaste. somehow, this did not translate into them not littering further.

we did consider using the sleeper class carriage waiting area, but its toilets would have shamed the last day of a major music festival. the cover of the timetable bible Trains at a Glance shows several models standing around an unrecognisable Indian platform you could eat off. at the base it declares; 'Indian Railways; Observing Cleanliness Year.' we're treating this as the best example of Indian humour that we have so far discovered.

an hour passed, filled with breath holding exercises and observations of mosquito swarms making bombing raids on our arms before pulling up at the last minute, recoiling at the scent of DEET repellent. it makes all those days of the sensation that your skin is peeling off worth it. the train rolled in at last and our 3AC carriage even came to rest next to us. we were on, off and away from Abu Road.

we haven't travelled 3AC before, mainly because it's about four times more expensive than 2nd class sleeper, our usual method of travel. we can't understand why. the carriages do, of course, have air conditioning, a significant advantage, but other than that they are essentially the same, with all of the seat backs swung up to form the middle bunks. they are covered with the same thin, uncomfortable plastic coating. we'd never been too bothered by this in 2nd class sleeper, since it's a really cheap way to travel long distances. but at this price it seemed a bit much. pillows and blankets are provided, and the family around our bunks had kindly already worn them in for us. water, tea/coffee and breakfast is supplied, too - perhaps we were in a hard-to-please mood, or maybe the carriage's appearance that a tornado had recently ripped through it after a night of people sleeping within had something to do with it. it's sometimes hard to resist being thoroughly British and moaning, but we'd had sufficient to deal with already today. best to sleep and try and ignore it all.

three women sat opposite us on a seat that had clearly not been raised up to a bunk for the whole trip. Philippa managed to fall asleep quite quickly; Edd has no idea how. the two middle aged matriarchs and one senior, marshalling lady talked incessantly for the entire journey. it was conceivable that they had done so since boarding. perhaps they could be wired up to the energy grid? gallingly, they were of course the only people talking for the full length of the carriage.

the journey back to Ahmedabad passed in rare moments of snatched sleep, for Edd at least, and much of it was spent staring at the bottom of the bunk above him, occupied by a quiet, respectful single Indian man. Edd was woken up once by the porter, but only to enquire about drinks, which seemed to be a fairly pointless exercise. later, Edd did finally get to sleep for a few precious, long-desired moments before the porter shook him awake again near Ahmedabad - to ask for a tip. 'You must be joking?!' Edd spat at him. '100 Rupees,' he suggested, ludicrously.

Ahmedabad was as hot, congested and dirty as when we had left it. we were besieged by rickshaw-wallahs within moments. we managed to deflect a few of them with the tricks we know, and even more by telling all those within earshot that we had a hotel booked and won't be going to their recommendation - no commission there. loaded up on a three-wheeled chariot once more, we weaved our way down to the Old City area and the Hotel Ajanta, our new home.

hot, bothered and tired, we checked in with the manager, a poster boy for the disinterested jobsworths of India. our edition of the Rough Guide describes the Ajanta as 'a colourfully decorated comfortable hotel with good facilities.' what we want to know is; how much money changed hands? the hotel - and we were definitely in the correct one, we checked - has no facilities to speak of, none. you reach the rooms past the entrance hallway by passing through an out of service lift, permanently fixed open. the bizarre, ham-fisted room layouts look like the masterwork of a set designer for a film set in a hotel with a murderous manager. our room was a 'Super Delux' - a second, great example of Indian humour in one day. it was a wonky rhombus shape, as if it had been forced into its space by unseen and impatient giant hands. it had two ceilings, one open, the other above composed of polystyrene and with the appearance of having been dropped in from a sweaty office. adorned with the usual loose wires and mouldering fittings, it gained extra points for the grimy, sub-standard bathroom - and yes, that is by Indian standards. It would have made a great Abu Road hotel. but - and it was a big but - it had powerful AC and we both swiftly and simultaneously collapsed into sleep.

a few hours passed and waking up in the Ajanta was an unpleasant shock after dreamland. Edd thought about it for almost a few seconds before announcing that anything would be better than this hotel. unfortunately, he had been moaning about it ever since arriving, hardly constructive behaviour. he grabbed only the guidebook and his wallet - which would prove to be a major mistake in a few days' time - and popped out to find an STD phone.

[Edd - almost immediately, I discovered that we were in a machine parts and oils kind of district, in which there were unbelievably no STD stands and three coin machines with all of their instructions in Gujarati. I trudged around for ages and eventually ended up what felt like several leagues away at a chokingly congested major junction. the Moti Mahal, our previous Ahmedabad home, was full for days to come, and our second Ajanta-escape choice was over R4,000 a night - again, not quite the prices promised by the guide book. laughably wound up and sweaty, the coughing walk back along the nasty main road did yield one fantastic image that, sans camera, I can regrettably only impart by words. horns behind me made me turn to see a particularly large, painted elephant, complete with relaxed and casual mahoot, leisurely strolling down the busy highway, traffic braking and veering to avoid it. like most of the day had been, it was one for the 'Only In India' memorial scrapbook.]

more AC-pummelled rest and, by 4pm, we had regained some composure and were ready to set out for the tourist office. naturally, today being how it was, this was a problem, for several reasons. at first, no-one would take us, as we had no Gujarati. then, as ever in Ahmedabad, no-one knew where we wanted to go, or could read a map. as is the way in India, the tourist office is on the other side of town and the Subamarti River from any of the tourist sights, bar one. we managed to direct a rickshaw-wallah across the bridge spanning the wide but mostly dry river before hopping off somewhere near the office. we realised 30 seconds after the rickshaw had driven off that Edd didn't have his hat, one of the most essential items possible for an Indian summer. panicked, we hurried back to where we had disembarked, in hope rather than expectation. probably ignored because it was made of cow leather, Edd's hat was lying dirtied and crumpled in the road. we knew how it felt.

we asked one Indian man if the tourist office was and he gave us a genuine Indian first - he said that he did not know! he suggested a nearby shop for assistance, rather than giving directions despite not knowing, the usual Indian method. the tourist office, when eventually found, was conveniently situated down a side street of a side street. we managed to secure at least some information about travel agents and Gujarati sights, especially for the spectacular Shatrunjaya Hill near Palitana, with its 800 Jain temples.

another rickshaw led to the district of Paldi, its tourist agents and more disappointments. none had coaches to Palitana, only being able to recommend the state bus service, located back on the opposite side of town. trying to figure out our next move, we were at a low ebb when we were aggressively cornered by beggar women wielding babies like bawling weapons. they totally ignored all of our responses to their advances, continuing to grab our arms until we had to resort to physically pushing them off. shouting and angry, it was a new low in our day to forget. we reacted poorly, in foul moods as we both were, thwarted at every turn by a brick wall to every alternate suggestion, a jobsworth serving every request, a puncturing needle to every balloon of possible good cheer. we felt like we had been back in Ahmedabad for days.

another rickshaw, another exhaust-filled ride. you can virtually see the particles of pollution flitting around in Ahmedabad. the city and region was hit by a major earthquake in 2001. some of it still looks like this has only just happened - we passed one man sitting defiantly on his veranda that dropped down and away into the road, supported only by hundreds of sandbags. he looked determined to enjoy his veranda, despite half of his house missing. he probably had the right idea.

at the bus station, we managed to navigate staring men and yet more grabbing beggars to actually secure a Monday morning ticket to Palitana, at less than R100 each; again, a bus journey that was ridiculously cheap. Edd rang up a new hotel option we'd found, the Hotel Good Night, right next to a prominent mosque, and therefore (hopefully) easier to get directions to and from. we went there by rickshaw to check out the rooms - square, clean, normal, with a great shower, what innovation! - and confirmed a non-AC room for tomorrow, saving a little cash. finally, we ate downstairs at its affiliated Food Inn restaurant. it was not the cheapest, but it was fine, although the bored waiting staff had nothing better to do than stand in a group and specifically watch us eat. within walking distance of the Ajanta - in fact, opposite where Edd had made the earlier STD calls - we went back to 'home,' pretending not to look at the hotel and room, whacked on the AC and hid behind our hands until we fell asleep.

from Mount Abu's mountain pass road down, the day had been one long, continuous descent. tomorrow, surely, could only be better.

edd & philippa