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 1^st 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 1^st 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 1^st 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 1^st 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

A brief on Ritwik’s grandfather’s story in The Hindu newspaper: http://www.thehindu.com/todays-paper/tp-national/tp-karnataka/vyasaraya-ballal-passes-away/article1190262.ece

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 1^st 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 1^st 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

 

 

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 1^st 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.

 

Backpacker (Gokarna): Paradise…

Sun sand surf sunset sunrise serenity simple surrendering sweet swim sensual – all in 1

Abeer’s dad said to him that if you REALLY wanna know a person, travel with him/her/them. Nothing invokes raw personalities and characters whilst on an unknown terrain and situation. I kept this thought in mind.

We reached Gokarna at 3:00am and camped out at the surprisingly well-equipped and pristinely well maintained (by that I mean spotless) Gokarna Road Station. There were several student revellers post the recent board exams so we helped out 2 young girls with transport and reaching Kudle along with us in the morning. The journey was fun and sweet. We captured some moments on camera as the train trailed through the slightly inward Konkan coast. Watched how guards sent signals and managed an ever-running-never-stopping Indian railway system, which still employs manual labor and skills across the country. A thought that makes me smile.

Gokarna was trekking walking trudging and exercise from the word ‘Go’ ‘karna’ – a play on we have to do it on the mark. I was pleasantly surprised by this extremely small beach-town so interwoven and colourful yet so modern and humble. There was seva everywhere. Tourists thronged every nook and corner – mostly hippies, yogis, long-term vacationers and part time marvellers. What was common between them all was they were all comfortably and barely dressed, some even without footwear and they were all over Gokarna like they would walk through their living rooms back home. It was a v v beautiful sight and something Abeer and I can relate to. The temples and the facilities are all walking distance but mind you there is nothing that you will need in Gokarna and it isn’t there. Nope… it’s ALL there. The tourist attraction hasn’t upped the greed scale of this place like other destinations in India and that’s why I never argued much about paying for anything cuz it was always in INR 100s…

Our stay was comfortable at best. I see the logic now as we barely stayed indoors. Just came to take 1 of many 100 showers in the day and change there. Our room became a laundromat come baking oven. It was supremely hot but since we had dragged our tired feet through deep dry sand across Kudle beach at 6:30am and were told no shacks, huts, rooms or even beds were available… we took this 1. We were glad we did and I would go back there anytime. Ref: Sea View Resort. Don’t be fooled by the exotic names. They are v v bare basic living quarters and for INR 400/- a night they were easy on Abeer and my travel pockets. Abeer kept drilling in my head too that we were backpackers and backpacker stay was the way to go. My biggest pet peeve was bathrooms ALWAYS. I REAAAAALLLLYYY had to let this 1 go as I shared common toilets and showers with all other roomies at the resort. Abeer was understanding and always accommodating of my needs – something that I learnt on this trip on a deeper level. He didn’t leave me to fend for myself as a grown up capable woman. Rather he was far more caring and even watchful of me and my movements, needs, pangs etc. This was what I was looking for in this trip – to learn about each other.

Happy feet boating through all 4 beaches!

I watched as he soaked in not doing anything. We barely had 2 days so there were times it felt like we had nothing to do and then moments later an awesome plan would fall into place. In 2 days we visited Kulde, Om, Half moon and Paradise beach, went boating on the local fishing catamarans, trekked through scenic and sometimes wretched terrain between beaches separated by rocky hills, watched the most beautiful sunrise and sunsets, tried more than 5 eating joints, marvelled at every meal and bottle of beer (thank you UB for keeping us sorted), and swam a lot. I was happiest in my bare minimums. Happy that I could wear and look like whatever at any time of the darned day and no one would judge or gossip about it. I felt my skin soak in everything and was open to wearing my bikini for the 1^st time as well as get tanned. Most of all I was happiest that Abeer and I made this trip. We were childlike and hungry and thirsty altogether. We went about town and even visited the local most famous temple – Mahabaleshwara. There was minor drama when we were down to planning the next leg of our trip – Abeer always changes his mind every 20mins. Something he proudly calls not planning and going with the flow. I wasn’t following the flow cuz it changes streams and directions all too many times. We finally settled on our Kerala tour map and planned the next leg of the trip.

It’s amazing how a change in destination and setting can change or alter your relationship. I had been on mini 1s with him but this was our 1^st big one. I like how much of a beach bum, raw and amazing Abeer gets in such places. Like me, he is a water baby. The tropics calm us. The intimacy takes several detours (all good 1s) and vacation romancing your boyfriend is a new thrill. I was sold. I was excited for more exhaustive days ahead and having really chilled at Gokarna, I was all set to rough it out. 1 of the memorable moments of this trip was trekking it to Om beach for a romantic dinner at Namaste Café and beers at the Dolphin Café. We witnessed a live police drill with the youngest graduates of the Gokarna Police Acad versus some long term hippies (I guess that’s the term) who indulged alternately in water and beer and had interesting conversations that made no dynamic sense on a beach. We still felt like it was the right place. 

Sunset at Om beach from Dolphin Cafe -
the perfect perch to capture this view!
P.S. Recommend a beer with a loved 1 :)

I miss Gokarna. I do. I miss what it gave me till Sunday 17:00pm IST. It gave me my Abeer in a very loving interesting fun crazy and himself form. It gave me his and mine 1^st trip. It gave me his time and some of his undivided attention. It gave me backpacking story –I’ll be honest this was barely backpacking in the true sense and I am looking fwd to a new rugged 1. It gave me a weekend away from the city and some of its prime evils. It gave me until it decide to take some… (next post)

Backpacker (Mumbai): Creating diaries!

“A true traveller has no destination.” Excerpts from an anon source and modified by me. Smart effects of 30 I think…

It was a random mention by Abeer about adding Gokarna to our travel. By now he and I had ‘travelled’ many exotic locations in conversations over Starbucks offerings and some of our delectable meals over the many metro adventures we had traversed post-work. I wanted the Kerala experience with the backwaters and the romance in the air with tropical sunsets, dewy mornings, golden skin and bare minimum clothing. Yep I did. I needed more than a single tree and a pavement and unwelcome stares at my higher hemmed skirt. Gokarna - which until now was a familiar sounding town in my basic geography- landed on my holiday trail as the biggest tourist destination. 

Curly and packed up Kat

I read up n researched it like my beau does about things. I grew more and more fascinated. I worked feverishly through my whole work quota well before time and managed somehow to finish 3 weeks’ worth of work in 1 week. Behaved like a million dollars lay at the end of this trip. For me this was more than a trip. It was time away. Away from the city and gadgets and comforts and all that was familiar. It was uncorrupted organic time with Abeer which would involve looking at each other instead of phone screens and sharing real emotions instead of expressing them through startlingly and readily available smileys on EVERY social medium. It was important to me. Our 1^st trip away. Esp. with the jolt of dealing with unplanned or cancelled trips in the recent past.

My love

I agreed to go rustic and backpack – live like how he did. I wasn’t afraid to explore cuz I had the best guide who had literally been-there-done-that. His experience and “who plans!?!”  attitude appealed to me. We were perfect. I planned and cribbed and called and informed ahead. He just trudged along and made decisions that lay enroute. I was afraid that if I didn’t bring up the trip once in a while or discuss or plan it, it would cease to exist save for a few notes in my calendar. That’s why when Abeer’s office folks granted him the leaves; even courtesy checking with me for the EXACT dates, I was floored. J

As tradition goes, we fought before the trip. Actually, we don’t fight anymore. We have maun vratts (silent treatment) followed by exchange of caustic to citrusy dialogues. Until one of us adds some much needed sugar to balance the flavours and bring back the love. Yep… we are pastry. Since Abeer is the natural chef between us… he usually adds the sugar and I am more than happy to be dusted with all that icing. So we made up a day before the trip, packed a few hours before the trip, had a squabble and make up enroute to the 1^st leg of the trip and then settled in as us. We were kids. I wanted JUST that. Thus began our train diaries on the Ltt-Mangalore Matsyagandha Express. Until the train didn’t jolt its start from the station, I ceased to believe that the journey had begun indeed.

Sunset from the door of the Matsyagandha Express

Here on I looked forward to some LSD between Abeer and moi. I realized I should’ve carried my Nikon camera cuz the perils of clicking from your phone is that you spend the next hour instagramming it, checking for likes and comments, grumbling and fumbling for network and then needlessly ignoring the REAL picture – us. I didn’t care for any squabbles. I wanted to be loved up and wanted to do the same to my man. Over the next 10 days <3

Gokarna – Mangalore – Kerala – Goa – Whatever randomness that lay ahead.