Dave and his Bike

Days 78, 79, 80 & 81.

Day 78.

I have woken up this morning to rain. Proper rain, accompanied by high winds. I am really pleased that I got here yesterday and I don’t have to ride in it today. It is, however, going to make finding and transporting a big cardboard box interesting. The forecast is pretty similar for the next four days, so I can’t just wait it out and do it later. Not ideal.

I’ve just put the news on the TV, to see that Cyclone Fengal is hitting the coast here today. That explains a lot. Several flights cancelled out of Chennai airport already. I hope it improves by Tuesday.

There was toast again for breakfast, this time with butter and jam. Excellent. I abused it, along with a couple of cups of milky coffee. I sat with an Indian guy who has brought his young son to Chennai to play chess. He’s originally from Gujarat (northern India) but now lives in Australia. We had a great conversation about travelling – around India in particular.

The flooding outside the hotel got worse – about 30cm deep. Going out was not really an option as I was informed by the hotel staff that all retail premises were closed by order of the local government. That included the bike shops, and most of the food outlets, not just the ones under water. Most of my day was therefore spent holed up in my room listening to the wind and rain, watching cricket on the TV and reading an e-book. I also washed some cycling kit.

The staff ordered my food in again, as the local KFC opened in the evening. Nice for a change.

Day 79.

Not a bad nights’ sleep, but awake as usual just after 0600hrs. I had a cup of tea in bed reading updates on the storm which had made landfall near Puducherry (south of Chennai) at about 1900 last night. The news reports say that three people have died in Chennai as a result. Too tragic for words.

It was remarkably calm here this morning though; not raining or too windy, so after breakfast (toast again) I ventured out. I think there was a lot of cleaning up going on, but in places it was hard to tell.

The nearest bike shop was less than a kilometre away, but even do by the time I got there I was soaked. The humidity here is horrible. It doesn’t feel oppressive in any way, but I can’t stop sweating, which is attractive. When I walked into the shop my eyes lit up. There were half a dozen boxed up bikes right in the middle of the place, which looked really hopeful. The owner was more than obliging and told me to come back at 1100 tomorrow and he will have a box ready for me, with all of the extra packaging inside it. So fingers crossed I’ll be sorted.

I asked a tuk-tuk driver where I could get some packaging tape, so he took me to a small shop to get some in anticipation. Once back at the hotel I used a bottle of water and my old toothbrush to clean my bike up a bit, then washed my sweaty clothes.

The afternoon brought more showers. It also brought a cacophonous parade out in the street which compelled me to leave the dry sanctuary of my room to investigate.

It was clearly a religious occasion, as icons were being held aloft, and people were carrying framed pictures. I asked a couple of people what the significance was, but just got told it was a Hindu festival to celebrate god. A Google search didn’t get me any further. Whatever it was, it was quite impressive. And loud.

More cricket on the TV followed. Plus a video call with Steve who I’m meeting in three days time, before dodging the heavy showers to find something to eat – great veg tikka masala.

Motorcycles. Some of you may have noticed the image of one on my blog logo, and the mention of them on my homepage. It’s a big interest of mine, and I have travelled extensively throughout Europe on one over the last twenty years. In India they are everywhere. Not big bikes – there’s no point on most of the roads, and high speed is not an option when there are cattle and dogs everywhere. The 125cc is king.

Occasionally there’s a 150cc bike, and the Royal Enfield 350 is something to aspire to. I have seen a few (literally a handful) of 500cc RE’s, but absolutely nothing bigger. Makes my 1200cc bike look massive, and a bit excessive! Honda have a lot of the market, a large proportion of them badged as Hero Honda (a partnership which was dissolved in 2010), and Hero also have their fair share. There is the odd Jawa, and plenty of Royal Enfields (made in Chennai) – mostly 350 Classic – which has been in production for ever (the original ones imported from England). There’s also the odd Yamaha, and a very occasional Suzuki. I’ve seen three or four BMW GS310s too. There are millions of scooters.

Just about every bike has a skirt/sari protector fitted, with a big footrest so that saris and skirts don’t get caught in the rear wheel when the pillion passenger (or one of the many pillion passengers) is riding side-saddle, as they all do.

The use of bikes here is both a blessing and a curse. They are clearly an affordable means of transport for the lower income population (most people), but there are so many that they are a danger. They are also used in the same way that you would walk somewhere – on the road, on the footpath, the wrong way down a dual carriageway, using a mobile phone… The closest I have come to a collision on my bike has been with motorbikes that have just stopped in front of me, or emerged from a junction without looking.

Every village has a workshop, usually busy, keeping all of these machines on the road. It’s refreshing to see things being mended as opposed to replaced. Most villages also look like Brighton seafront on a mods/rockers weekend.

I was hoping to visit the Royal Enfield factory here in Chennai, but following an email exchange with them it turns out it’s not possible as they are ‘going through logistical changes’ and aren’t doing tours at the moment. Shame. Don’t tell Jane, but I still want a Royal Enfield Classic.

Day 80.

I can’t believe that I’ve been away from home for 80 days already. Where does the time go? It is also December (yesterday in fact).

Job for the day was to sort out my bike. I was at the bike shop bang on 1130hrs as agreed, and the owner had fulfilled his promise (almost) and there was a box, flat packed for ease of transport. A tuk-tuk ride later and it was in my room. The bit the bike shop had missed was the extra packaging for inside, but that was easily rectified as I found a little unit just around the corner buying and selling cardboard and newspaper – a genuine recycling enterprise. So for the equivalent of about 90 pence I was sorted.

I took the newly formed box out to my bike at the rear of the hotel, then spent an hour or so stripping my bike and packing it as best I could. I was hoping to sneak it up to my room, but was then offered the staff lift to do so, and hence avoided awkward questions in reception. They also weighed it for me. I then got a bit of a gentle bollocking from Jane, as I’d left my phone in my room and she’d been calling me and was now worried. Lesson learnt.

After a spot of lunch I ventured out. Chennai is not really known as a tourist destination, but the beach is top of the list when you Google it for things to do. It also meant that I’d properly crossed India from coast to coast. Marina beach is very long, very wide, but otherwise a bit underwhelming.

The sea was very brown, which I’m guessing is a result of the cyclone. Some of the litter could also be attributed to that too. I then had a walk south towards St Thomas’ Basilica, via the Ghandi memorial statue and the DGP Office (government / police building) with a memorial to police officers who have died in the line of duty. I was told off by armed guards for photographing it.

I had been hassled a bit by tuk-tuk drivers all the time I was out, and due to the humidity and a sore toe I eventually gave in and negotiated a deal to visit the basilica, the Kapaleeshwarar Temple, then back to the hotel. The basilica was originally built by the Portuguese, then re-built by the British. There was a wedding taking place, so I didn’t go inside.

The Kapaleeshwarar Temple was busy. I like the coloured temples (as opposed to white) and was told by my driver that they are re-painted every 5 years (I think). There was also a look of threshold art -Rangoli- which I have seen all across India, outside temples but also outside shops and homes, even in the poorest areas. It is believed to bring happiness and good fortune to the home. I’ve seen people refreshing them each morning.

I was then taken to a gift emporium, which I hadn’t requested. Apparently if the driver took me there and I looked around he would benefit. No surprise there.

I’m pleased I did as I learned quite a lot. The handmade carpets were beautiful, made in both cashmere and silk. Something around 6 feet by 4 feet takes about seven months to make. No wonder they are so expensive. I didn’t buy one.

Back to the hotel for some dry (not sweaty) clothes and a brew before my last dinner in India. I was going to find a good curry, but didn’t want to walk too far and I’ve had a month of curry at least once a day. KFC was closest.

Day 81.

My last day in India. Despite having my bike packed and having checked in on-line, I’m still stressing about catching the plane.

Idli and vada for breakfast, plus pancakes and honey. I was then kicking my heels until check-out time which is officially 1200hrs, but reception say 1400 will be fine. No idea what to do after that as my flight isn’t until 2335. I’m not keen to go walking around getting sweaty, and I’m also not bothered about sightseeing anymore, although I probably should be.

After checking out, I went for a (very short) walk for a coffee, then sat in the hotel reception (air conditioned) until I got really bored and got an Uber to the airport. I may as well be bored there as anywhere else. As soon as I got out of the taxi I was collared by the luggage wrapping people, so got that sorted easily. Getting in to the terminal was more difficult. There are armed military personnel on the entrances who want to see your ticket and passport. On realising that my flight wasn’t until late tonight, I was told that I had to wait outside. Err, no. I had a rant, didn’t swear, did raise my voice, and insisted on getting in to the terminal. After a few minutes of being told I had not got permission he laughed and let me in – to the virtually empty terminal. There are loads of people waiting outside in the heat and humidity, poor buggers. I’m all for good security, but that is taking the mickey. Needless to say, the coffee kiosk is quiet, but then again when a cup of tea is 30 times what you pay outside (300 rupees as opposed to 10), I’m not surprised! I’ll drink my water. On the plus side, there’s plenty of seating available.

Several tedious hours later I was rather sadly first in the queue when check in opened. The bike-in-a-box confused them. I then had to take it for an x-ray and left it with them. My paper visa then confused the customs officials, who were strangely more interested in when I was coming back to India. Once released from their grip I found a sandwich in one of the very few outlets, and continued to be bored for a few more hours. The almost full plane left almost on time.

Farewell India.

I have a bit of a love/hate relationship with India. On the whole I find it a beautiful, fascinating country, with inquisitive and friendly people. I do have my frustrations though, as I have previously mentioned. The pollution, rubbish, and sometimes the bureaucracy can be wearisome, but seems acceptable to the population on the whole (or so it seems – I’m sure they have their own frustrations). Essentially I have enjoyed my time here, which has gone really quickly. I will come back.