Having not flown for six months, the prospect of a nine hour lay over in Bangkok 'en route' (Bangkok not exactly the most direct port from Mandalay) to Kolkata was not the worst thing in the world. Killing time in an airport was quite an exciting prospect. The Burmese luggage handlers gave us a heroes farewell, waving and bowing to the plane as we were taxied to the runway. We treated ourselves to Subway at the airport, and I'd dozed off on the flight to Kolkata, only to be woken up by an announcement a solid hour into the flight, claiming the aircraft had to return to Bangkok due to "technical difficulties". No doubt this news would worry most people, but in my half-asleep state, I simply dozed off once more, waking just before landing. I watched Freddie anxiously look out the window at the engines of the plane, and give a wee fist pump when we safely touched down. He's certainly watched far too many Air Crash Investigation programs in his time.
Many passengers were confused as to why we were back in Bangkok, with a lot of them presumably sleeping through the announcement. As we've learned during our time in India since, they will never pass up an opportunity to form a mob at the slightest invitation, so before long, the Air Asia staff were surrounded. Having touched back down at 2am, the next flight was not until after 9am, so people demanded food allowances and a hotel room. To be honest, we weren't overly fussed, but before long, the whole A320 was escorted to the Coral Lounge, where we ravaged the buffet, along with the mass of other passengers. Having worked in hospitality for the last 3 years prior to this trip and knowing that this VIP lounge would usually receive a mere trickle of guests at 4am, I was appalled by the manners, or lack thereof, of some of the entitled, snobby, pretentious rabble that we sadly had to associate ourselves with. Being wildly understaffed, they did all they could to replenish the plates of food before they were greedily demolished by the wads of Indian travellers. Fred had to teach a 50 year old man how to say "please" - a very simple word, that goes a very long way in hospo.
Fortunately the next plane managed to make it to Kolkata, and despite a wee miscommunication between airport staff, meaning the immigration workers weren't expecting our plane, we were through and found our bags and bikes in what looked like good knick! Thankfully they weren't lost or damaged amidst the confusion surrounding our flight. As we strolled through customs, I could pick out the silhouette of our mum peering through the frosted glass and waving at us. I have to admit I shed a cheeky tear or two as we embraced, having not seen her for a solid 7 months.
After having the driver she'd organised drop us off, with a small truck carrying the bikes in tow, we arrived at the apartment she had organised for us to stay. She told us to "not expect much", but much is what we got! A hugely spacious apartment, with a kitchen, two sitting areas, a bathroom and two bedrooms. A heck of a lot more space than we were used to that's for sure! Mum immediately went about making us at home in the middle of Kolkata, brewing up a pot of tea with milk, and some Griffins Gingernuts from back home. What's more is that the fridge and pantry were stocked with blue cheese, crackers, bacon, mushrooms, Vogels toast, eggs, beers, Whittakers chocolate, Pic's peanut butter and many other delectable treats. Heaven is a place on Earth, and we found it in Kolkata of all places!
Bangkok layover
Sunrise at Bangkok airport. A sunrise we should have been seeing in Kolkata if things had gone to plan
The glorious old Ambassador taxis that frequent the streets of Kolkata. A law change threatens to outlaw cars made before a certain year, which would sadly see these antiques removed from service
One in a billion (1.34b and counting)
San - mum's old time friend and our wonderful translator who made our life 10 times easier in Kolkata. We probably would have got nothing done without him. A true legend
I guess in many ways the luxury of having your mother meet you at your first port of call in India certainly softens the culture shock that most people would have to deal with upon arrival. Having recently read Shantaram, I had half expected the author's first reaction of India to manifest itself on me, as his first three impressions were the oppressive heat, the vibrant and diverse smells, and the sheer mass of people. Being winter in the north, the heat was by no means oppressive and the smell was no different to Myanmar. The people problem however was something else. Getting things done in Kolkata takes a long time, and traffic can be backed up for a substantial period. You need a lot of patience to get anything done there!
After two days of admin, including tedious visits to the doctor to assure nothing serious had been picked up during our 7 months in South East Asia, we packed one pannier and our foldaway backpacks, and made our way to the Kolkata Domestic Airport, for our flight to Trivandrum. After some of the most amazing service by the Indigo flight staff, we touched down in Kerala, which immediately felt like worlds away from the dreary streets of Kolkata. It was dry and hot, reminding of us NZ summer, except that in Kerala the weather is consistently superb. We were in for an absolute treat! Upon arriving at our luxurious accomodation that mum had organised, we were reunited with our elder brother, Tom. Boy was it good to have him back in our midst!
As we had been forewarned, the festive period prices in Kerala were steep, and beer took close to 30mins to arrive at the table due to 'limited supply' and presumably license restrictions for restaurants. We lapped up the glorious weather, and played Waboba (skim ball) in the water, as we watched the eyes of local Indian holidayers track the ball with immense interest. They sure do love their cricket.
Kerala seemed like worlds apart from the busy streets of Kolkata
After the glory of Lighthouse Bay in Kovalem, we made tracks to Varkala Beach, where we would be spending Christmas. The inland area wasn't holding much promise, but as we arrived in the carpark atop the cliff overlooking the beach, we realised, it was going to be a good one. After a quick lunch and beer, we made our way down to the beach, making the spontaneous decision to organise a quick Secret Santa draw with a 150 rupee budget (about $4). I drew Sean, and immediately sought out a white linen shirt or something along those lines, as he loves to accentuate that glorious golden glow along with the bleached blonde braids he's become famous for in the subcontinent. I was disheartened when the first shop I tried demanded 1,600 rupees. I'd tried the shirt on, making sure it would suit our sexy Swede before engaging in the barter battle. I took the shirt off, letting him know I had a 150 rupee ceiling, and proceeded to walk out of the shop.
"Okay sir, 1,200... come on sir, give me your real price"
"150 is my budget and I have to stick to it" - I was taking the rules very seriously
"Okay brother, 1,000", I keep walking, "600"
"Sorry mate, I'm gonna have to look for something else"
"200" - I turned around, but then remembered the rules
"Sorry mate 150 only"
"Okay fine, 150 rupees sir"
You've got to be kidding me! Less than 10% of the original price. Coming through South East Asia I'd often adopt the divide by four or five technique, but this Secret Santa business had really changed the game. Moral of the story, stick to your budget. I felt bad for bringing him down so low, but he accepted my price and gave me the shirt, so he must've at least broken even. Lucky Sean.
It was a Christmas like no other we'd had before. While it was beautifully sunny and hot as it sometimes is in our beloved motherland, we didn't have the pressure of who would prepare the meal and tackle the insurmountable stack of dishes the festivities often create. Instead, the dilemmas we were faced with were, "where should we have dinner and lunch", "who is going to play Waboba with me" and "should I have a beer or pina colada?" Of course we opted for both. Despite having agreed to not buy each other presents, Tom still delivered with Kindles for each of the cyclists, and mum assured we would have a fresh set of jocks to attack the new year with. Good thing too, as the old four-day rotation was proving to become a wee bit crusty for my liking.
Varkala Beach - not a bad spot for Christmas festivities
It became apparent that most of the local tourists couldn't swim, so most would brave the shallows, often meaning they'd find themselves right on the break of the wave which was rather amusing to watch at times. If they ventured too deep, an ear-piercingly loud whistle would sound by the "lifeguards" who didn't exactly look like the best swimmers either
Wall art promos are very common in these parts. Our beloved Kingfisher, though illusive and pricey, tasted oh so good
One of the many mobile beach vendors, always offering a "very good price"
You know the air quality isn't the best when you can stare straight at the sun as it goes down. It made for a glorious dusk, but I'd rather not be able to look straight at it
Just some cheeky marigolds and a classic Indian beach scene
Fresh new jocks! As is tradition in the Gillies household, a fresh set of jocks go straight on the head
Having a bit of fun with the drone at dusk... and hey there's Sean! He does exist after all!
It's never easy getting a serious family shot, especially when you haven't seen the elder bro in over a year. As you can see in the background, the beach was rather popular
First overseas holiday with mum!
We caught a river ferry up the backwaters of Kerala to Allepey, where we spent two nights in a homestay. We took Tom on a wee bike ride amidst the paddy fields, showing him the glory of cycle touring and convincing him to join us for a leg in Albania later on in the year. He did still manage to drop his chain on the old Hercules single speed, getting well and truly greased up on the 10km loop.
We got quite the reception from locals as we cruised up the Keralan backwaters
The backwaters of Kerala on our 8 hour cruise to Allepey
Tom making cycle touring look easy
5km in, and in need of a refreshment and an ice cream
Fred obviously has something better to look at than the camera
It was then onto Fort Kochi where the beaches were no longer swimmable. As with a lot of places throughout Asia, the beaches were instead being used as rubbish dumping grounds much to our dismay. We instead wandered the streets, drooling over the beauty of countless Royal Enfields, visiting the famous Jew Town and other points of interest throughout the Fort. One of the main attractions being the old Chinese fishing nets that line the shoreline in the harbour - these could be effective rubbish collection mechanisms seeing as they haul in a lot more rubbish and waste than sizeable fish, though the rubbish is then returned into the harbour - Indian recycling systems at their finest.
Tommy G
It was then time to bid mum adieu, as the lads and Teresa caught a flight to Goa for New Years. Airport security asked us to remove our pounamu necklaces (which we haven't taken off since leaving Auckland) to which we politely declined, assuring them they were not bombs or sharp objects that could hijack their plane. Indian authorities always keen to flex whatever power they can muster. Arriving late on the 30th, we hit the sack at Palacete Rodrigues, an old colonial Portugese mansion that charged an arm and a leg for dusty old rooms. Fortunately for us, Tom came to the rescue, subsidising accomodation costs during our time there.
The next day we headed for the beach and began the New Year festivities early, as hoards of locals converged on our game of Waboba. Tom ended up conducting a crowd of about 30 locals who splashed and flailed about in the shallows, while Sean and I sat slightly deeper watching the chaos unfold before us.
One thing led to another, after a few cheeky rums by the pool at Palacete and celebrating the NZ New Year at 4pm, Sean was asleep at 6.30pm. As is the case every day on the Big Bike Trip, the mantra of 'no man left behind' was applied, and before long we had him cutting all kinds of shapes on the beach at Anjuna. Fred was hit by a severe migraine at 11pm so missed the countdown, while Tom, Sean and I went on into the night, managing to navigate the backstreets home in the early hours.
We then revelled in the glory of Palolem Beach for the last three days of our holiday. Staying in a 6-bed dorm, we were woken early each morning by our 50+ year old roommate who snored like a freight train. The demographic shift from Anjuna to Palolem was massive. Anjuna was swarming with Indian men on vacation with females few and far between, while Palolem had a much better balance, and a noticeably large contingent of Westerners.
Palolem beachfront huts. Not a bad wee spot
Couldn't pass up an opportunity for a juggling circle. It had been a long time between drinks
Can't express how much it meant to have been able to share our holiday with this absolute legend
Saying goodbye is not something we Gillies are good at, and it was hard once again to bid Tom farewell. We were reassured in the fact that we would be seeing him in a matter of months as opposed to years this time round, as he headed to London, while we would be making our way there, taking the long way round. Had we followed through with our original plans of meeting in Vietnam for New Years and Christmas, the trip would have taken a completely different form, and 2018 would've certainly started off in one hell of a rush. The psychological shift of a new year is always monumental, but none would compare to the beginning of 2018. While 2017 kicked off with the daunting prospect of leaving, 2018 starts with the rapidly approaching arrival in London. When you've been on the road for 8 months, 6 months certainly doesn't seem all that long, and with our arrival in Europe closing in fast, it's hard not to start thinking about the home stretch.
Mum was glad to have us back under her care upon our return to Kolkata. We reassembled the bikes and repacked our panniers with the array of sponsors products mum had ferried across from NZ. Mum's friend San helped us with all our niggly little admin jobs we had to complete, which could often take a while seeing as shops wouldn't open until 11am and once open, there was never really any rush to get things done. It was a far cry from our festive period holiday, and as with the dawn of the new year, it very much felt like the next leg had begun.
The apartment mum had booked for us in Kolkata provided ample space to rebuild the bikes for the next leg of our journey
New bar tape, new t shirts, new flags. Bring on 2018
A sad sight
The flower market of Kolkata. A truly vibrant affair
Marigolds for days
"You're waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you can't know for sure" - Leonard DiCaprio
Let there be light
The bridge that would restart the Big Bike Trip in 2018 - despite having 'No Cyclists' signs, we got across without hindrance. That may have been because it was 6am and the cops may have still been asleep
