Thursday, November 27, 2014

Backpacker diaries 4: Udupi and 4Ms (Mangalore, Maravanthe, St. Mary’s Island, Manipal)

“There are a few journeys we take as lovers, as friends, as family, as unknowns and as nobodies. This trip embodied all of the above in some shape, form, and experience.“

It all started with our Eco-friend Ritwik working a lot in Bengaluru than Mumbai. On his return we spoke about the south and within a few minutes and a lay invite after, this trip was formed. As usual, I was the one gunning for it with dates and timelines and bookings. With the boys, well, being boys. I decided knowing these two, planning had to be kept borderline and not detailed. Besides I was traipsing into unchartered territory so it simply meant keep it simple.

We took a few days off, lamented and grazed our way finally to that fateful weekend. Abeer had faced a particularly tumultuous week at work and he was happy to down a few before we took off. I raised my eyebrows at the though but downed more than a pint myself. He was right – we both needed it but in the bargain we nearly missed our train from CST. I had carried yummy biryani from the day before I was in Hyderabad and he ate it like a hungry wolf onboard. Post that we both passed out aboard the Mangalore Express – Upper berth please :D

Shetty's Lunch Home indulgence -
Pic courtesy Abeer instagram.com/tipsies
The next day was treacherous heat and pretty bad delays that had my temper soaring. You see, our expectation was dreamy cold wintery weather, romantic and perfect. What we saw on the weather forecast and faced was Mumbai-like coastal heat with some level of humidity and a promise of coolness as the sun descended. We reached Mangalore at 3pm and trudged to the 1st recommended eatery – Shetty’s Lunch Home. I assured Abeer that my friends were trustworthy sources and so they turned out to be. We were filthy from the train journey but we just plunged into our perfectly divine meal of ghee-roasted chicken (priority recommend), sukka masala squid (Mangalorean style), neer dosa, Kerala parathas and chicken curry suggested by the attendant. The thatch roof and earthen interiors were perfect and calm with no crowd and we dove in and ate more than our stressed tummies could handle. We left and wondered where to stay the night when lo and behold there was a guesthouse just behind us. It was INR 500/- and the friendly fella at the ‘reception’ asked us to 1st checkout the room and then decide. We took a cue from his tone and went to check it. It was perfect, cool with a balcony and a bathroom the size of a playground - it was a shady place and only backpackers and real travelers would take this. This was PERFECT hahahha. We grabbed it, refreshed ourselves and took off to a nearby mall. Some coffee and a few mins later, Ritwik arrived. He was stuck in Bangalore for some work and was gracious enough to fly down that day itself to Mangalore city to see us. We all giggled and laughed at our ‘guest house’ when we met and settled in.


The South Coastal Scene from Mangalore Express-
Pic courtesy Abeer instagram.com/tipsies
There on we decided to check the very ‘happening’ Mangalorean nightlife. It being Friday evening, we expected some crowd and our plan was to drink ourselves silly and giggle at everyone and everything. Here is what transpired. We traipsed through The London Street Lounge and Hi Bar. Ritwik constantly insisted on visiting Mangala, which he compared to Mumbai’s Janta Bar in Bandra (P.S. I do not believe there is another Janta Bar in India). We were the only patrons in most places we entered or exited or maybe grabbed a courtesy beer. We stayed the longest at Hi Bar and that too it was barely till 11pm and still no crowd. The day catching up to us, we dined at Shetty's and decided to call it in. Next morning we managed to wake up early and catch a hearty breakfast in a local hole like place where drivers and conductors usually catch their grub, we left for Udupi by bus. The route was scenic and the journey very comfortable. Every few seconds there were scenic water bodies, many breaking into estuaries leading to backwaters, fishing boats and water harvesting devices, long paddy fields and local shrimp catching methods strewn across the coastline. What struck my seasoned Mumbaikar sensibilities – absolute cleanliness. Every journey I take makes me feel more and more like people from around the country come to Mumbai to treat her like the national dustbin; almost testing her to see how much dump can she take in. Whilst these regions were beyond spick and span. Plastic was nearly invisible and the only ‘rubble’ involved dried husks, coconut palm leaves and coconut shells – all conveniently biodegradable.

We reached Udupi at midday and made it to Ritwik’s ‘humble abode’ (read palatial grounds) in Ambalpadi – a residential suburb which ends with the Janardana and Mahakali mandir. The property lies on a large acre of land split between numerous relatives over a period. Each one lived in row housing or bungalow plots and were christened – most names depicted holier than thou names. Ritwik’s grandfather, Vyasaraya Ballal, was a legend (a Sahitya Academi Awardee) and as he later told us in conversation, “Their’s was the last generation that produced real men.” He was a humble man who became a literary genius and produced a family riddled in fame for arts and culture. His most noted work was ‘Vatsalya Patha’ which was the name of Ritwik’s bungalow that was restored by his father a few years ago. Abeer and I were completely drawn in. The place was homely and tastefully decorated with artisan portraits and pictures. The artwork was predominantly dated Indian culture, some with a message hidden within, many showcasing women in shapes and forms. His father had even carved a niche for himself literally in this property – an art room to work in and draw inspiration. As if to make us feel any more mediocre, there was a copy of the Mahabharatha on the bed when we entered one of the rooms. Ritwik’s home in Mumbai is a miniature version of this ancestral home. However, one can easily tell from the volume of space, the silence, the clean air; which was Mumbai and which was Udupi. This home was perfectly planned and thought out to the last detail – switchboards, water storage, spacing and openings inside and outside. The richness of its restoration was more inside than outside.

St. Mary's Island
 After gaping at everything with ‘O’ shaped mouths, we quickly changed and made it to Malpe Beach Harbour, Udupi’s main beach stretch. Pristine white sands and continuing for miles on end with Kadike on the north and Matu Beach after miles on the south. We took a boat to St. Mary’s Island, a place I insisted on visiting. We spent a good hour or 2 there anmong sandy stretches followed by rocky edges. I had seen some astoundingly beautiful pictures on social networking sites and blogs and reality seemed like a humbler version of those pictures. I still loved it. Since the crowd was very local and we stood out like outsiders (I was wearing some seriously micro shorts), we broke away to an isolated spot and swam there. All the silliness didn’t take minutes to surface. One cannot risk venturing deep and when I said swim I meant at most waist deep water for me. It was mildly salty and the surrounding rocks were teaming with virgin coral, tons and tons of black crabs, snails and slugs and some surface marine creatures. There were hard rocks and porous rocks and the shells were absolutely beautiful – a collectors haven. It was seriously hot and even though we wished to explore more, we were time bound and to a large extent couldn’t tolerate the heat. After chomping on some local version of ‘bhel’ and cucumber slices, we ferried our way back to the mainland (INR 150/head for two-way ferry). Lunched at Malpe – nothing very special and headed home to slumber a little.

Then we hit Manipal town. The much sought after tiny cosmopolitan hub hidden away in Udupi district well known for its educational institutes, foreign gambit (a lure for the boys) and the watering holes. Yes Manipal DOES have a nightlife. Everything was super dark and poorly lit except a few spots. We went to the University for the lantern festival and were instantly told it was a pay and enter event. We decided against it and sought some local drinking spot advice. The student at the gate stated (verbatim), “There are many places like blah blah but if you ok with not being able to see each other’s faces DeeTees it is.” At the time it was translated to maybe dingy or too crowded and happening to see each other. We went to the old DeeTees and I swear we could literally not see each other. We were lucky enough to grab the last available table in a corner and the lighting was designed to make you feel like you are in a place with routine load shedding. Menus were read and orders were placed by torchlight. It was a scene straight out a movie of the dark underbelly of cosmopolitan metros where one is sucked into a life of drug rackets and prostitution rings. Here it was simply the ambience of choice. We giggled and downed a few beers. Ate something that looked like food and we shone the light on it we could eat it no more. Smog of smoke and the leer of beer were the order of the evening. We decided to move out and check other places. We topped our 1st dark experience with a semi-dark Big Boss where I happily spilled beer and the boys checked ladies out and followed that up with some seriously sad “ghaati” dancing at a very ‘happening’ nightclub called Remix. It was thorough amusement this Remix. First of all we did the cardinal sin of paying and entering (menial damage). Then we noticed the crowd and realized we were so out of place here and by that I mean obviously feeling way too superior. Our attention and source of amusement for the end of this day was a rather large young gal who had 2 fellas scampering for her attention and both hugged her side to side and met her backside midway – I swear I am not being mean. This is the best way to describe it and since we were tad buzzing from our drinks and possible sundried exhaustion, we found anything convenient amusing. Kudos to that girl though.  

Woodlands Lunch Thaali
Fishing village huts
Marvanthe Beach -
Pic courtesy Abeer instagram.com/tipsies
We wound up after Ritwik and I danced and Abeer looked on in sheer regret that he made us share his Urza energy drink. Found a rickshaw back into the city and crashed to rest. By Mumbai standards we were really good children this whole weekend. Our choice of food was at Woodlands during our stay in Udupi. Fantastic Udupian cuisine and I could just take the train for more of that. We sampled everything on the menu to the point of stuffing ourselves. Uttappams, idlis, vadas, dosas, upmas, sambhar, rassam, chutney, kaapi, everything. I realized Ritwik was more eager to stack up on his hometown than we tourists were. Before that we started the day with a brief walk through of the Janardana and Mahakali Temple. We indulged and took off to Maravanthe Beach. Another famous must visit town come fishing village come miles of the most gorgeous beach ever. Here is where we finally had our 1st naariyal of the trip – shocked and disgruntled as I was. We had a bit of a faux pas about the beach and just followed Ritwik wherever he took us. Unfortunately, due to miscommunication we landed up walking almost an hour under the hot sun across the main NH and the beach at bank midday. Abeer and I felt old and worn out but we comforted ourselves that this was a workout. A few hydrating options after, we passed a lovely raw fishing village, crossed through a muddy path that divided young paddy fields, met the cutest calf that Abeer exclaimed, needed time to fatten up for a juicy steak (drawing questionable looks from Ritwik and me and a loud moo from the calf’s momma), and reached the main highway. 2 buses later we were back in Udupi and at Diana lunch home – Ritwik claimed that back in the day this was THE place for lunching. Sadly it was commercialized and we were sad to not get our order. We left and ran to Woodlands just in time to devour large thaalis. Before that we contemplated our routes back; acknowledging sadly that this was the near end of a glorious and very organic trip.

Ritwik took an overnight bus back that evening after we ate at an obnoxiously OUT THERE outlet called Kediyoor. He was gracious enough to let us stay the night over in his place as our train was a 5:45am tatkal booking from Udupi station – the Maru Sagar Express. We stayed the night wherein I had the weirdest and scariest dreams and kept waking up. A sinister surrounding and the deafening quiet doesn’t help a bustling city gal. Abeer assured me that there was a temple around and nothing would happen. We woke up to get dressed and at stark 4:30am all lights went out. I was freaked out to say the least. Lights, camera and an available torch was our weapon of choice and I was too scared to even check if all switches were off but we moved in pairs and we ensured all was shut. Lights came back on and as if it was toying with my fear, went out again in a minute. We packed up and left at 5am. The street was well lit and we walked looking for a rickshaw. 15 steps ahead and lights went out AGAIN. This was plunging darkness and I just wanted to leave. Abeer indulged my fear and caringly took me to the main motor stand. Phew. At the station our already delicate tummies played havoc but my traveler’s soul was sad. Back to noisy, polluted and reality Mumbai. Yes home but away from dreamy places like this. Thanks to Ritwik and his hospitality and his presence and language guidance, we ever planned and made this trip.

Hoping to make many more such backpacker diaries J

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

BiKronicles 4: Lavasa Valley City

Happy Deepawali

This time Diwali was a scramble about town. When you are a couple you have much in common or rather end up having much in common. This is good. Then come those occasional uncompromised-able uncommon factors, which I think are fun cuz THAT makes us individuals. Diwali is lights, sweets and full stop at 10:30pm as per mister Abeer. Diwali is “woooow” “oh my god oh my god” *whaaaam* *BOOM* #nomnom “do I look fat” “haven’t I lost any weight” “where is your traditional avatar” and the likes as per et moi.

This time we played it slow and all loved up. I found a dress and wore it. There were no loud crackers and no severe abuse of the arteries. I decided to play it mellow too on the condition that we AT LEAST fuse up a few phuljhadis which we did :D These sparklers were also to cheer us up for the ridiculous struggle and failing to plan our Diwali weekend (or so we thought at the time). Every resort, beach property, hotel, home stay and everything that all websites and travelogues could offer had gone up fpr grabs like it was the last vacation on this god forsaken planet. Long weekend Family festival Firecrackers Mumbai Getaway options and offers- Who wouldn’t run outta town the 1st blip they got. So we decided to stand our ground on the leave and take off.

We chose Lavasa valley city as our new exploration and decided to follow it up with Khadakwasla Lake the same day or the next. NH47 our standard route and an early start at near dawn i.e. 6am was the kickstart of the weekend. Not surprisingly, cracker echoes were still ringing into the pre-sunrise sky. We were glad to escape the heavyset smog and evident gunpowder pollution. Following the route and now covering it in lesser time than we used to, we took a turn at the Wakad circle and headed right. The road was pebble-like and had tons of gravel for a while. The locals and petrol station warned us of that. But after a few kms it was smooth as butter and absolutely scenic. By now we were used to scenic routes but when green valleys and plateau like visuals were replaced by reservoirs, unending and winding lakes and huge dams, we just had to pause for a break. What strikes at 1st is the sustenance of the area. The locals look like they are well maintained, have ample job opportunities created by those who paved the Lavasa valley city and dams and have their own produce and resources tended to. The good thing is that there are still miles of untouched and un-hawked zones on the driveway to the valley city. That’s why it’s imperative to stock up on chai and water any chance one gets.

We noticed many bikers this particular weekend. Especially the Dukes and KTM riders (more like racers), a whole lot of Royal Enfield groups probably on one of their breakfast rides and also a stray few Harleys. All the key scenic points were stacked with bikers and each one was checking out the other. Abeer and I were the stray lone ones not part of any groups. However, the thrill of overtaking or riding along with one of the passing groups, even if briefly, is something I am always prepared for. We reached Lavasa valley after what seemed like an ascent, a descent followed by another steep ascent overlooking Temghar Lake. Temghar Lake starts with a humble scenic water body and quickly expands into a winding massive water body that provides resources (water, hydroelectricity, harvesting etc.) for 1000s of kms of land and forest area. Lavasa city is built on one of the banks of a hilly region overlooking Temghar lake and has its own Dasve Dam bridge that connects the waterfront from one end to the next. It’s a brilliant concept based on a European design and always draws a ‘mini EU in India’ comparison. There are ample places to eat and explore despite them being WIP. We lunched at the All American Diner where there was an offer for a few course meals at fixed price. We were starving and foodies that we are, offers always cheer us up. Therefore, we did indulged.
Temghar Lake Dam

A quick ride around the entire property across the riverfront, a bit of a walk and the day just sped by. Lavasa appears to have been made rather clean and ecofriendly. Again it was quiet and the crowd was scanty. The same cannot be guaranteed on a crowded day or event. The properties looked promising and rather inviting but I was clear I wasn’t looking for a community. I was looking for my own lone cabin by the lake. We left for Pune and had an eventful rest of the weekend by ourselves. It usually involves lovely meals, some real us time together and of course a good watering hole. This weekend we checked out a new joint and an old all-too-familiar brewery – Flambos and Irish Village. Khadakwasla was saved for another day given that we woke up rather late and didn’t quite feel like copping another long ride.
Beer samplers at Irish Village

All in all it was a gorgeous weekend. Lovely sights with simplicity being the order of the weekend. In addition, our bebe and beauty –RoyalEnfield Classic Tan 500cc series (I call her Limited Edition) <3.
For a top-of-the-hill view of Lavasa Valley visit the following clips I shot on Instagram: http://instagram.com/p/ujwkWivrWa/?modal=true and another video taken from the middle of Dasve Dam http://instagram.com/p/uhpcYFPrVn/?modal=true
 
 

Sunday, October 12, 2014

BiKronicles 3: Nashik-Daman and Diu (Wining and Dining)


It’s been > a week since our epic trip to Nashik and Daman and Diu. A complete tangent ball game from our otherwise smooth rides. I was prepared and then not-so-prepared for this trip.

The ironic Monday after the week came with an anchoring feeling. Sinking would mean I could swim back up. This was heavy and leaded. The feeling was slightly eased by changing my shift from 6am-2pm and celebrating Eid-al-adha with my truly. I was glad I worked my ass off prior to the long weekend cuz that meant no anxiety attacks this workweek.

The trip was perfect until the evening before when an evil and honestly useless custom plagued me. Dry day on 02 Oct when we had planned to visit vineyards and thrive under vino-isk magic. Abeer eased my nerves; said, “Let’s just go and see what we can do!” to which I added “Lets buy wine and go to vine country!” Both extremely wise and useful decisions. Having gotten a steal at our choice hotel IBIS, I was pinched about paying more than double the difference to change our dates of travel. Glad I was talked out of it and lured with spirit (literally speaking). After having packed off the cats to foster care, which was a huge adventure in itself, I took off on the bike – this time new and revised gear and better prepared. Riding in the morning has a serene ‘leave this world behind’ sort of theme. There is literally nothing to interrupt you. Even if you need breakfast, you are seriously lucky if you find something of choice in the same route of travel at 6:30am. Starbucks, Powai it was. This was also the 1st trip where the much coveted, hunted and finally acquired Cramster saddle bags made its debut on our bebe’s booty. The bags just slide over the seat, do not interfere with the pillion footing or support and have easy to reach into pockets for quick bites and water bottles. The 48ltr capacity was perfect for packing in 3 days’ worth of whatever we needed and it had room. Abeer joked that I could use 1.5 parts of the bag. I was good and used only 1. J 
Abeer's idea of a flattering pic of me!

The road was relatively smooth with the occasional ‘excavations’ caused by cargo wielding transport. The potholes and speed breakers were the kind that can send you straight up before you even realize what hit you or vice versa. Road condition is something that prompts me to be Abeer’s absolutely 100% fail-safe vision. Even if he is busy sightseeing whilst hitting the 100 speed mark, I ensure that I’m watching the road. There is also the selfish motive that prompts me to watch out for me more cuz the rider will be safer than the pillion who might slip off, fly or just fall off due to obstacle+speed making merry. We tried hard to ignore the near 40°C weather and rode on. The route was scenic and divine and we stopped to get a few clicks inspired by the scores of Instagram handles that glorified biking in all its panache and had us hooked. Maharashtra is truly scenic and beautiful. There is untouched rawness, which I believe is maintained partially by the locals who aren’t plagued by greed and destruction.

Once at Nashik, we reached IBIS, made a smooth check in and were met by the most ergonomically designed hotel room. Perfect use of space with comfort and no short-change on any aspect. I never tend to believe any and every ‘review’ posted on multitude travel sites. People are fussy and imagine the presidential suite at the 4 seasons in regular hotels at meagre shillings. Take a hike buddy. People forget that the room is to rest, shower, and get out of… not LIVE IN. Aaaaaaaarrrrgh. Moving on. We doused ourselves in AC coolness, showered and moved to Sula Vineyards. FYI all other vineyards were shut even for basic dine in or tours. Sula remained faithfully open and that’s where I felt comfort revisit me; that I didn’t cancel/change the travel plans. There was no wine serving or tasting. But there were wine infused dishes on the property’s French kitchen aptly named ‘Soleil’. Although named after its ingredients it was the likeness of coq au vin and lovely prawn bisque followed by fish steak and salsa.

My love and his love (Nexus 5)
in a frame at Sula!
Lazed and passed out like 2 tabbys under heavy quilts and loaded on wine from mid noon to the next morning. We were THAT tired. Well rested, hungry as hell (read pestering front desk for when breakfast service will start); we sauntered down ready for our next pit stop. THIS was something we weren’t prepared for. The route from Nashik to Daman was a dirt road that touches NH8 – calculated at a decent 2.5-3hrs at constant speed. We took >6hrs, thanks to long winding inner roads and near missable exits. I was on GPS and even diverted us once to what was understood as a ‘shortcut’ to NH8. Boy was I wrong. It was riddled with gravel, stones, and sticky clay like mud that made the bike skid. Add to that the heat and high cliffs and no human soul in sight. This was ideally asking for trouble and we wasted 30mins in diverting and then backtracking. After this, the tempers and the heat took turns to soar. Abeer was of course the diffuser for both. He calmed me down and occasionally gave me a sound hearing, which involved a verbal dismissal or a nice speedy dash over a rough breaker (the latter I did not appreciate).

Absolute slices of heaven enroute to Daman via interior roads
I kept reminding myself to focus on the route and the scene because THIS was something we would not get to see too often. There was absolute pastel color beauty everywhere. The kind you see in nature paintings capturing ideal settings: a brook or stream, lakes and ponds, sunrise and sunsets, shades of brown from the tree trunk to the surrounding soil, a quaint lil poetry bridge (very romantic), water flowing musically over rocks and shiny pebbles, valleys of colorful flowers in patches… I may sound like I’m losing it but it sincerely was such. Interior Maharashtra is likened to an uncorrupted virgin in mind, body and soul. We periodically whizzed past tiny near insignificant villages and then the occasional large village townships as I would call it. The latter if cemented and founded with bricks to define housing and living structures. Everybody walked. Vehicles were a rarity and 2 wheelers a probable life saver here. The locals were friendly and always appeared blank on conversing as the Marathi dialect I belted out was nowhere close to what they spoke. Surprisingly Gujarati was a winner when all else failed. I constantly wondered what this place would be like in the rains and the answer will be visually astounding if I ever do return for an encore. There were structured and manmade roads but no light installations or provisions that made me realize that unless you know the terrain like the back of your hand, DO NOT travel or explore post sunset. It is indeed asking for trouble as there were many detours and routes; the main road itself a narrow 2-way for traffic which whooshed by and rattled you for a few seconds.

A good 3hrs into the ride and I was tired and hurting all over. The heat wasn’t helping and distractions were few to none. We barely communicated and used music to calm the nerves – EDM. Locals were helpful in pointing out the route but it was all guesswork. One said NH was 5kms away and in typical Indian fashion, “Haan haan seedha jaao mill jayega” (yes yes keep going straight and you’ll get it). Another said the same except he calculated 10-11kms and made it sound like it was around the next bend. India… Lol. Ultimately, after all the riding we touched NH8 and it felt exactly like Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) meeting Ellis "Red" Redding (Morgan Freeman) in Zihuatanejo. There on the roads and highways could put Maharashtra to shame. We cruised an easy and smooth 120 without so much as a break or a glitch. The speed breakers also break speed but without the risk of hitting and turtling if not caught in time.

The Daman Fort that encapsulates all Govt. buildings
and heritage sites.
Daman is THAT part of Gujarat that is no longer a part of Gujarat. It is quaint and little and has a stark contrast to architecture and crowd across the Daman Ganga river. We stayed put on the Devka beach part of town and explored it on the bike. Point to note was that we stuck out from the crowd and that drew a lot of attention. When we stepped out of the hotel we were followed with barely a foot’s worth of distance. Abeer didn’t want to compromise our safety and I didn’t think that in worse situations he would be able to defend us against half the drunken population of Maharashtra and Gujarat who had driven down here for the long weekend (read dry days). So we took the bike around, ate seafood and drank beer in a few upscale places, stayed away from dimly lit and isolated spots and returned back to our abode, Hotel Gurukripa (I recommend). It’s a decent place to stay with all the amenities, good breakfast and reasonably priced. My sights were set on The Deltin, Nani Daman. Someday baby someday.

Next morning we drove down to Jampore beach at 6am to watch the sunrise and that other part of town. It was very domesticated, beautiful smooth roads, administration and policing, housing, shelter, and a whole little Daman community tucked away. Our exhaust rattle must’ve woken most of them up but we just cruised along. People usually kept to themselves but when approached they wholeheartedly helped and spoke at length. Suddenly I felt safe and wanted to explore. A quick semi-continental breakfast, packing in and leaving we cruised through Moti Daman’s architectural and historic offerings of a fort, lighthouse and churches and went on our way. We touched Mumbai in a stupendous 3hrs. Nonstop at a speed of 120 and not once did I feel rattled or unsafe. The roads were THAT good. Once in Mumbai, smoke, smog, heat, anger, impatience and general annoyance settled in a matter of minutes. I dread this feeling ALWAYS.

Came home, cleaned up and unpacked and thanked our stars we had a whole Sunday to recover from this mini adventure of ours. I just hope our life (Abeer and mine) are always full of these <3.
Us 2 and our bebe at the Daman Fort and Lighthouse.
 

Monday, September 1, 2014

BiKronicles 2: Mini revisits (Panchgani-Mahabaleshwar)

Deep ink blue. That’s how I feel this morning. To replicate that heavy feeling is a looming dark cloud just outside my window with ‘Monday’ and ‘Long weekend is over’ etched in it somewhere. I can’t shake it off with my cuppa chai or even exchanging sweet morning msgs with my love. All I can do is wait for more colors to dissipate this one.

My excitement post getting our babe (REClassic500) was synonymous to a 5yr old being told they can go to Paris. Disney Land. Sit on ALL rides. Buy everything they touch. And the likes. I think it made me happier than Abeer to get her. I haven’t stopped planning trips, gear, safety, routes and what not. The last week of August took both of us by the neck. We were burned out, exhausted and I hadn’t slept in days staying up from 3am to 3am literally. It was a 4 working day week and that Friday was off was the bane and boon of our existence. It meant long weekend at the cost of a short weekday. We didn’t have the capacity to even sit and consciously map out where we were about to traverse. But I found the time to bug friends who had been on this route many times. Thus, fell our plan into place.

The day before the trip, I was zombied and my worst – a state my friend Simin and I used to synonymize with the zombies of the ‘Walking Dead’ series. I was battling some serious workload, packing off 2 stubborn cats with help from my momma and staying up all night. This resulted in a bit of a delay the trip day and forgetting my helmet at home causing the grump start. Helmet retrieved, arguments done, we started off. I was in severe discomfort and pain due to my monthly monster cycle coupled with no nutrition or sleep. If I thought I was in trouble, 3x that was the compromised safety of my boyfriend aka rider. I controlled myself from not physically assaulting him. He was loving and sweet and managed to make the journey bearable and as we intended all month long.

Our 1st detour from plan was to stop in Pune and stay the night rather than continue nonstop to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. This was for both our benefit. The Ganpati weekend provided enough maneuverable traffic and obscene volume of music everywhere. We crashed in, slept like 2 heavy logs, did a bit of sheesha at a shady outlet named Jashn and then some amazing sizzler dinner at 11 East Street. Ambition and some lightheadedness from the hookah made us wanna catch a late night movie. Instead we called it a night cuz my man here loves a 5am wake up and a high-speed readiness to take to the road. I am now used to this routine and can only stress on the benefits of always hitting the road early; NO traffic, NO pollution, NO annoying people, NO heat dust or smog, NO dullness and so on. It’s beautiful and romantic I might add.

Day 2, 30 August, we left for an all day trip to Panchgani and Mahabaleshwar. I learned a lot about Abeer on this trip. It’s not just a ride or a trip, it’s a journey. He just pauses, breathes in places, checks his watch and is ready to move on… very characteristic of his own personal attitude. No looming, lingering, or hovering. I, on the other hand, am all about the loom, hover, hang. Until I have not completely soaked in what I needed to, I just cannot leave. My logic was we traveled all the way; hence, we must do justice to the destination. Our time allotted to the justice-ing was off between each other. But as always we found balance. We let each other be but we couldn’t be more in sync if we tried. He is kinder, softer and more attentive on such getaways. The phones get some rest and I get so much more face time with him. That’s why I’m addicted to these times and journeys. In the city, it’s a challenge. The phone (his Nexus 5) is the 2nd wife I have had to adopt and give an occasional smile to. Anyways back to the road. We battled some pleasant and not so pleasant rains. The not so pleasant part is attributed to bad roads, potholes the size of craters and not so easily visible until too late and Abeer’s not so strong vision. Managing the gear, a huge helmet and glasses is not as easy as it looks convenient. I just kept his and my spirits up; we played road games scoring how many potholes he missed versus not and then kept count. On a long open road with no visible vehicle either in the front or back of yours, silly childlike games keep you going J When I would be upset and not respond and sit quiet for hours, Abeer, my love, would break that monotony with a big 5 in the air out of nowhere and I would wonder what just happened. I would see he just dodged a pothole and was scoring for us… we would burst into giggles and there would end our pseudo-feud. Silly me.

After what seemed like 3hours straight, we were up a steep hill climb, the valley view getting more picturesque, and the turns getting more sharper and dangerous. The view immediately took me back to the time I would be dropped off to boarding school by mum at the start of the academic year. The treachery of knowing I wouldn’t see her for a year would be eased by me riding in an expensive comfy cab in her lap. Here I was, behind my man, showing him parts of the state (Maharashtra) and places of my childhood. He loved and marveled at everything. We reached Panchgani at early noon, after a brief stop at Harrisson’s Foley. We went straight to Table Land and witnessed the lake, the valley and a bad angle view of the Devil’s Kitchen. Little walks and views were followed by some much needed Maharashtrian infused lunch. Dosas (very different), missal and ussal pav and what not. We rode some more down the road, passed my school Kimmins High school where I just HAD to squeal, some ogling at lovely homes and properties, and straight through a divine road with intervals of Malas and Mapro depots and signs. Mapro of course dominating with Malas as its sidekick. For the lesser informed, Mapro and Malas are brands/companies who specialize in sweet treats, jelly and fruit confectionary, berries and jams, crush and syrups etc. A whole load of sweet to put you in confectionary heaven. THAT is what I will eventually use to describe the Mapro Farm (an absolute must visit). We were disappointed not to find any fresh strawberries or mulberries that we so desperately chased but realized it’s out of season. We settled for their homemade ice cream and toppings and bought some amazing organic honey and jams to take back. I also shopped some ridiculously cheap scarves and a pair of biking gloves at a Kashmiri handicraft store. In Mumbai, there would be attempts to rip me off with 3 figure demands and much haggling. Here the digits fell to 50 bucks and 250 bucks, respectively. I got greedy and didn’t haggle at all :D
Pause

We rode further down to Mahabaleshwar. Going to some signature points like Kate’s point, Echo valley etc. spent much time there and moved on. It was breathtaking and I managed to steal a pic of 2 haggard, roughed up bikers standing next to each other. Hardly the loved up scene I wished to capture. We stopped by the town’s only CCD and paused for a good amount of time. Drank 2 coffees as my biker boy exclaimed that we were ahead of schedule so we had that precious time to waste and while away. Which we did where our numb behinds finally had restored sensation. Coffee and recommended bathroom breaks after we rode back to Pune. The ride was fantastic through Wai until we hit the traffic of Pune. The welcoming pollution and maneuvering traffic was worse than the downpour we endured on our return journey. We went straight home, cleaned up and went to Dorabjee’s where I ate like I hadn’t been fed in a decade. Wolfed down was more like it with one leg on the chair like a Panchayat head. Everyone else around me thought what a pretty but hungry girl. Wonder why she looks so starved. Hahaha. The rest period was good bonding time. Checks and gossips over music and what we can do next. What trips and what routes. What scenes and what gear. What went wrong and what we can do better. Our amusement for the day was when we passed a group of seasoned Royal Enfield riders who took great offense to our new tan Classic version overtaking their hierarchically synchronized ride. They eventually made some dangerous cuts in traffic on the National highway to prove a point and overtook us… I think my bubblegum pink Vega helmet added insult to injury…. Lol… Boys…


Abeer and our bebe
Mumbai return trip was beautiful and perfect. Relaxed with stops to the smog engulfed Lonavala valley, a cup of boiled butter corn from our usual suspect and going through dewy rainwashed routes. We stopped briefly parallel to Khopoli on a lone route taken only by bikers once you get off the expressway. The scene was straight out of a book or photoshopped magazine cover. We paused to take some pictures which eventually earned us rave reviews and a great many fans (miniscule but great for us). It was EPIC. The city entry was divine followed by nightmare of sore backs, painful legs, near-exploding bladders, growling stomachs and torrential downpour. It was probably the 1st time in 3 days I just wanted to get off the bike and lay flat and not get back on. Yep it was the too-much-of-a-good thing syndrome. Abeer was exhausted. Through this journey I solemnized that I would fulfil my dream of learning to ride one of these babies and have the ability to take over when Abeer needed a break. If we were gonna be biker hogs then me riding pillion forever would be a very selfish move for him as well as for my dream. So I returned with a good trip, good memories, loads of newfound love for the road, our trips, new passions and my man. I also came back with determination for a better week, a new journey to plan and to learn a new skill :)


Watch out for BiKronicles III. For pictures of the journey, visit my Instagram handle (gatacdo7) and Abeer’s (tipsies).

Monday, August 18, 2014

Royale EnTRY and stuff of Classics…


*speechless* *tears* *overwhelm* and *part exhaustion* some of the emotions that ran through me when our Royal Enfield Classic 500cc Tan sailed out of the showroom on her maiden journey a short distance away; date 07 Aug 2014 (Wednesday).

Abeer had been talking of bikes and jeeps since I knew him. He was and has been the quintessential boy. Rough, rugged, playful and childlike (I would like to replace that last bit with childish). But where would us women be with our men and none of their toys (pun unintended). Abeer is a gadget-y mechanic-y man since he knew how to take things apart and reassemble them back per his fashion aka customization. So when the ghost of Royal Enfield unleashed her charms on him, he was tempted to say the least.

Honestly, I can’t recall when did it start. We started admiring bikes in parking lots and whenever we passed one. He would talk of the machine like he was in a daze about it. I for one am a bike lover. I am not a fruitful rider but I make up for my massive inability with being good pillion rider and enjoying every bit of it. So I encouraged this infatuation than rant about safety and cost etc. EVERYTHING in this world is dangerous and unsafe. It’s up to us how we make it substantially safe. I prodded him to go to the main showroom. Ask people. Get details etc. He would do so and then it would die down cuz of money, planning or the lack of it or even just something else coming up. We continued this practice on our weekend getaways as well. Pune being the 2nd primary target. Quite frankly I didn’t wanna force or push him lest he feel like he’s investing in a machine just for me. But I also couldn’t shake off the fact that he so desired one and nothing was coming off it. So I took it into my hands this time to literally pulley-push him like a wheelbarrow into the showroom.

In the meantime we were hung up on the RE Thunderbird 350/500cc (debatable based on usage and mileage). The moment the ‘decision’ phase started, I was planning journeys in my head. This was indeed going to be an adventure. Abeer’s grouse was the waiting period. My grouse was in the months we spent hunting the perfect 1, we could have ALREADY had 1 in our hand. Here on forward, he decided and I calculated. Then came the saga of the Continental GT. An Enfield product, which to me appeared to have undergone a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Phase. It was a beauty – no doubt. But for me it lacked the classic RE body and design. The bike didn’t feel like an RE to me (no offense). This is based on pure external aesthetics and in no way reflective of the performance. Abeer took a test ride in Pune one evening while on our way back to Mumbai after a FIFA WC weekend. The Continental GT’s weight, inability to turn smoothly around our compromised Indian U-turns and bends as well as the sheer stress on the rider’s back was what made him change his mind. This was confirmed with other riders and bikers who shared similar experiences.

We had our hearts settled on a matte black Thunderbird series. Stunning beauty I would liken to Lupita Nyong’o. One couldn’t take their eyes off it. So was the Desert Storm but it was a bit of a has-been for us. The RE Classic 500cc Tan was something that lay low, hidden, like a child crawling out from under a barbed fence in a war zone. The irony was it was Tan colored. Perfect stand out machine and just 1 piece in sight. Again, we couldn’t take our eyes off of her. But this time our eyes and hearts didn’t move and we WANTED her. Abeer booked it – 06 June 2014. We pooled in our monies to 5k (unprepared to have loose change lying around for let’s say a bike), filled a few forms, felt smug about saving 8-9k on-road price in Pune vs Mumbai and walked out with a smile that looked like we stole precious cherries from the neighbor’s garden. It was OUR secret. The moment we reached Mumbai, the REAL adventure began. Every SMS plainly saying ‘Congrats you own a blah blah’ would excite us. It was really sinking in. Now was financial planning. Loans, down payments, EMIs, best options etc. The waiting period communicated was about a month or more. We got confirmation of her arrival in ~10days of booking her.
1st look and out on the road post registration

Let me tell you the excitement, frustration, eagerness, annoyance and every shifty feeling of having something ~160kms away and not being able to have it until a few formalities are complete. In our eagerness to grab her, we hastily followed (read believed and relied on) any and every advice that came in for financial planning. In the end the ‘greens’ rather ‘Gandhiji’ is what built and tested our level of patience and endurance. We made 2 futile trips just to see her lying in the showroom. No other Tan piece was available for showing or selling. Apparently, we were the only ones who had booked it. We fought with bank employees and loan sharks. Came home to Mumbai and fought cross-city with our dealer in Pune. Abeer needed me to turn on the nasty and get the ball not rolling but spinning straight out the galley. I did. 1 Wednesday I carried my work with me and we fought and waited and cried and argued and insisted on action and I meanwhile worked and worked and the day seemed endless. I decided I was gonna camp outside the dealer’s showroom JUST to make the bank and dealer feel guilty. The overwhelm and patience which had assaulted my tonsils made me just WANT her than deserve her. Abeer was near tears and probably would have sunk back and cancelled it all. It was NOT gonna happen after all this. In the meantime, Brahma Motors (Dealer) washed, polished and fitted a mud guard on her. Sort of calming our nerves to show us that she was ready when we were.

At 7pm we got the go-ahead and she rolled out from their enclosure into light. That enclosure if viewed in background fade, would look all black-grey-brown and this one an absolute unmistakable stand out. Everyone assumed, rather assumes we did a custom paint job on her. All eyes from a nearby tea stall were on her. I was exhausted and speechless and I couldn’t stop the tears. Just wipe and hide them. I wanted to hug her but that would be a Yash Raj moment for these people. Marker pen on the makeshift license plate indicated her birth on the road and we took off after a few glitches and final to-dos. I loved it. Loved her and loved Abeer even more. He was happy. That made ME happy. Mission accomplished. We cruised a bit. Had our 1st nightmare traffic; got pulled over by a cop in 10mins and were let go to run wild and free (pun intended) in the next 30 secs of him ogling at her. It was brief burst of adrenaline. Abeer took it to park in his garage safely away from prying eyes and of course, to share the moment with his family.

After we returned home to Mumbai at 2am, it was an even painful long waiting for the next week or 2. Registration and formalities and what not. Abeer wanted a preferred number that we chose. Sadly that number didn't work out. We decided no more trips until we could bring her back to Mumbai. It was all or nothing. 15 August Independence Day marked that weekend for us. We took off the same night, removed her from the garage and it was 2 whole days of just her and us. We took maybe 2 odd breaks to rest our backs and butts that had gone numb. Abeer barely slept 3 hours and was busy washing her and readying her at 5am for a 6am ride. I was punished for being late at 7-freaking-am. Ok ok understood. We rode in divine weather and breeze. Bike jackets and gear in place, helmets purchased, cleaned, tugged along… finally performed their duties. We joked that my gregariously bubblegum pink helmet would distract people from putting nazarr on the bike. Lol Never happened.

We did our maiden long journey on 17 Aug 2014, Sunday, from Pune-Mumbai via NH4. Started at 6:30am and touched Mumbai at 11:30am. We had probably 5 stops to cool the new engine which couldn’t be pushed beyond 60, had chai and corn, weathered heat, heavy and light rains, dense fog, brief bit of biting cold, and brilliant breeze. It was smooth and perfect and I couldn’t have asked/wished for more. Gave us an idea of how to manage other longer and more rugged journeys in the near future. She had her 1st bike wash and exposure to Mumbai as well and now she sits resting for a bit as we plan her future. <3
Here ends the acquisition and maiden journey story. Look forward to more #BiKronicles #REDiaries #RECLassic500Tan
Abeer et moi on our beloved baby!