AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND - 31st January 2010
I´ve made it to Auckland in pretty good time, after disembarking the interislander ferry at about 5pm in Wellington yesterday afternoon and heading straight up north. I finally reached here at about 11am this morning after a brief stop in Hamilton (where there´s nothing to see, especially not on a rainy day like today). Of interest, however, was my overnight stopover in the township of "National Park" - another wonderfully original bit of naming by the Kiwis. The national park in question is Tongariro - the second oldest national park in the world after Yellowstone in the USA - and I was able to see its showpiece peak - Mount Ruapehu - glowing the beautiful sunset as I drove into the town just after 8.30pm. Unfortunately, of the 3 hostels in the town, the first was full, and the other two had closed their receptions at 8pm. Of prime concern to me was finding a TV to watch the women's final of the Australian Open, and always the opportunist I happily sauntered into lounge room of the last place I tried - Howard's Lodge - and made myself at home on the comfy sofa with Serena Williams vs Justine Henin cracking off on the big screen. As time ticked on and the lounge room emptied out, I ended up screwing formalities and just slept on the sofa - it was big, soft and very comfortable, so I was happy as Larry.
The honest intention of paying whatever board fees were due was there - I even took the trouble of writing a note to this effect and leaving it at reception - but after waking at 6.45am and being ready to leave, I found reception still abandoned. Only one thing for it - the note was shredded, and I was off on the road!
Incidentally, back in Wellington I'd been delighted to be met at the ferry terminal by the same chap I'd dropped the Hyundai off with last week, and sure enough he handed me the same crappy bunch of keys to the 1.5L beast that got me my speeding ticket back all those days ago. No such mares this time round, and better still I had the satisfaction of, while pulled over having a tea time pie on the side of the road in Levin, grabbing a photo of someone else getting caught in exactly the same place I was! He definitely won´t be the last.
The day in Auckland has been spent checking out the big Museum (which has the outrageous policy of being "free", but requiring all visitors to get an admission sticker from the ticketing desk where you are asked how much you are donating - $10 being the recommended amount. They need to learn a thing or two from the British Museum) and driving up to the top of Mount Eden for some impressive, if rather cloudy, views across the city centre, harbour and harbour bridge.
But, short of a long evening and night to pass in the airport (yet another night without a bed!), that pretty much wraps up New Zealand. What I can fairly safely guarantee is that there'll be plenty more to be said once I'm in the airport...
Showing posts with label national park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label national park. Show all posts
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Tuesday, 19 January 2010
The best (small) city on Earth?
NEW PLYMOUTH, TARANAKI - 19th January 2010
The United Nations certainly think so. In 2008's "International Awards for Liveable Communities", New Plymouth - situated at the foot of Mount Taranaki on the northern coast of a peninsula created purely by its volcanic activity - scored the gold medal for cities with a population of up to 75,000, while also (unsurprisingly) scooping a separate magazine award as "New Zealand's best city".
I, for one, am certainly not going to dispute the results. The moment you set foot in the town you feel calm, relaxed, nature and human society in a harmonic balance with one another. Looking in one direction, you can watch the waves of the Pacific Ocean come crashing into rocks lining the city's award-winning Coastal Walkway; turn 180 degrees and you're facing the towering presence of snow-capped Taranaki overlooking the relatively modern cityscape (as in the photo I've stolen from Google Images on the right).
Located where it is, New Plymouth is off the bog-standard tourist trail - backpackers en route to Wellington and the South Island tend to head through the middle of North Island via Taupo and Tongarira National Park. However, with the freedom of movement offered by my own wheels, I was able to schedule a visit to see Dale, my second cousin, and finally meet her husband and daughter. After failing to do so for all of the 2 and a half years they lived in Swansea, I found it quite amusingly ironic that I was more than happy to make a 400km detour to see them in New Plymouth, but never once considered driving a couple of hours into Wales!
Lunch was fantastic. Dale's parents-in-law are in NZ for a few months, and between herself and her mother-in-law we had a proper Mangalore-style feast - green curry, chicken, pilau rice - all were savoured as the first proper Indian food I'd had in weeks.
Post lunch playtime with Rochelle (Dale's 3-year-old daughter) involved an imaginary but nevertheless rowdy tea party, before I headed into the town proper to check out the Coastal Walkway as well as Puke Ariki, the (again) award-winning museum-come-library-come-information centre. My hostel for the night is right next to Pukekura Park - a massive affair that combines a botanic garden with the most scenic cricket ground I've ever seen (right), with the coolest open air concert venue anywhere (the stage is in the middle of a lake!!!). Anyway, throughout the summer the park hosts the annual Festival of Lights, with the botanical walkways lit up in all sorts of colour as night falls, accompanied by different acts and performances every night. Tonight featured a model plane demonstration on the cricket ground's outfield, and included model jet engines making the most God almighty noise; and a live set from some band who did some surprisingly good covers of the likes of Elvis, MJ and The Verve (a google search suggests they're called "Tank Stanley and the Acid Collectives", and that they were gonna "blow your mind").
Dinnertime awaited though, and I was back at Dale's for another long missed dinner - classic Chinese takeaway. My stomach sleeps content tonight, before tomorrow's long drive to Wellington...
The United Nations certainly think so. In 2008's "International Awards for Liveable Communities", New Plymouth - situated at the foot of Mount Taranaki on the northern coast of a peninsula created purely by its volcanic activity - scored the gold medal for cities with a population of up to 75,000, while also (unsurprisingly) scooping a separate magazine award as "New Zealand's best city".
I, for one, am certainly not going to dispute the results. The moment you set foot in the town you feel calm, relaxed, nature and human society in a harmonic balance with one another. Looking in one direction, you can watch the waves of the Pacific Ocean come crashing into rocks lining the city's award-winning Coastal Walkway; turn 180 degrees and you're facing the towering presence of snow-capped Taranaki overlooking the relatively modern cityscape (as in the photo I've stolen from Google Images on the right).Located where it is, New Plymouth is off the bog-standard tourist trail - backpackers en route to Wellington and the South Island tend to head through the middle of North Island via Taupo and Tongarira National Park. However, with the freedom of movement offered by my own wheels, I was able to schedule a visit to see Dale, my second cousin, and finally meet her husband and daughter. After failing to do so for all of the 2 and a half years they lived in Swansea, I found it quite amusingly ironic that I was more than happy to make a 400km detour to see them in New Plymouth, but never once considered driving a couple of hours into Wales!
Lunch was fantastic. Dale's parents-in-law are in NZ for a few months, and between herself and her mother-in-law we had a proper Mangalore-style feast - green curry, chicken, pilau rice - all were savoured as the first proper Indian food I'd had in weeks.
Post lunch playtime with Rochelle (Dale's 3-year-old daughter) involved an imaginary but nevertheless rowdy tea party, before I headed into the town proper to check out the Coastal Walkway as well as Puke Ariki, the (again) award-winning museum-come-library-come-information centre. My hostel for the night is right next to Pukekura Park - a massive affair that combines a botanic garden with the most scenic cricket ground I've ever seen (right), with the coolest open air concert venue anywhere (the stage is in the middle of a lake!!!). Anyway, throughout the summer the park hosts the annual Festival of Lights, with the botanical walkways lit up in all sorts of colour as night falls, accompanied by different acts and performances every night. Tonight featured a model plane demonstration on the cricket ground's outfield, and included model jet engines making the most God almighty noise; and a live set from some band who did some surprisingly good covers of the likes of Elvis, MJ and The Verve (a google search suggests they're called "Tank Stanley and the Acid Collectives", and that they were gonna "blow your mind").Dinnertime awaited though, and I was back at Dale's for another long missed dinner - classic Chinese takeaway. My stomach sleeps content tonight, before tomorrow's long drive to Wellington...
Monday, 21 December 2009
The Great Ocean Road, Part 2
LORNE, THE GREAT OCEAN ROAD, VICTORIA - 21st December 2009
Continuing from where I left off...
DAY 2
Free Sunday parking in Geelong expires at 9am on Monday morning, so I had to be up and out of the Nash bright and early which, all in all, worked out quite well as I headed south-east to the Surf Coast (as the stretch from the Bellarine Peninsula down to Cape Otway is known). The Great Ocean Road begins shortly after the seaside town of Torquay, which is home to some hefty waves and hundreds of surfers, but otherwise not a great deal for someone working on a budget - general consensus is that it's a bit of a pretty boys' town. However, the town's war memorial garden a top of a protruding section of rock, aptly named "Point Danger", provides a nice view looking both ways up and down the coast (the former seen in the photo below).
Heading out from Torquay puts you onto the Great Ocean Road (or "GOR"), although you don't see much of what the hype is about for a long way yet - it's about 40km from Torquay to the next town, Anglesea, and most of it is somewhat inland cutting through sections of the Great Otway National Park. Anglesea itself is a quiet little town, again with a beach full of boogie-boarders, but its most famous tourist attraction is almost certainly its golf course at the top of the town - in amongst the fareways live an army of kangaroos that hop around without a care in the world as golfers smack balls around them. Several tourist information centres had described it as being a place where you're guaranteed to see 'roos in the wild, and the LPG confidently declares that "there's always a posse of them along the Golf Links Road". It was typical, therefore, that even after driving around the course for about half an hour, I didn't see a single one. Disappointing.
As you continue further down the coast, you pass Bells Beach, renouned as having the best surf almost anywhere in Australia, and soon arrive at Airey's Inlet - a tiny little village with a population of 1000 that is home to one of the many big lighthouses that mark the major indented heads along the GOR's coastal route - which was historically the shipwreck capital of the British Empire. With ships going down like high catches to Adam Dowson, with the frequency of a Jamie Nimmo forward defensive, every major indented head along the whole southern coast was armed with a lighthouse that could project light 7km out to sea by the end of the 19th century. But back in the present, I was in need of a sharp bit of coffee, I stopped off at a cosy little family run cafe next to the lighthouse and ended up stuck in a conversation with an old Aussie chap who, while perfectly friendly, was pretty damn deaf and responding to most things by shouting "WHART?" at the top of his voice. And, being a man of a different generation, he had some fairly amusing views on the world, British culture (big fan), Australian culture (not a fan), and various other issues spanning the fallacy of global warming and state of Australian cricket.
Anyway, with nowhere booked for tonight either, I was quite keen on getting down to Lorne, which most people had told me was the place to crash, and getting somewhere sorted. As well as including the famous "Great Ocean Road" sign suitable posed above, the section from Airey's Inlet to Lorne is where the GOR begins to unveil its full flamboyant glory, running along the water's edge, rising and falling as it scales the geological barriers in its path, diving in and out of crumbling limestone cliff faces; all the while with the turquoise blue Southern Ocean over to you left, lapping the sands of the countless beaches along the way. Amazing driving conditions, and on top of that it turned out things really aren't as rammed - at least at my end of the market - as some people made out - first hostel I went to had plenty(ish) of space so it was happy days for me. Lorne is a beautiful little town, with a pier out to the sea overlooking the town's long stretch of beach. I had a pre-lunch swim in the sea, but then post-lunch decided to make the most of having a car at my disposal on an amazing stretch of road and cruised down to Apollo Bay - the next major town, a further 45km down the GOR.
I reached Apollo Bay at about 3.45pm - it would have been a lot sooner had I not been stuck for 39 of the 45 kilometres behind a nut who refused to make use of any of the 50 or so lay-bys provided with the explicit signposted orders: "Slow vehicles pull over in turnouts. Please consider vehicles behind you". This plonker had no consideration, and dawdled along a road with an 80km/h speed limit (50mph) at a mindnumbing 40km/h all the way into Apollo Bay where he finally pulled over to park. I'd be downright lying if I tried to claim that a fair few expletives hadn't been uttered in my Tiida, but all was forgotten as I lay out on the white sand in the evening sun, looking out to the beach stretching away for miles to the north west, while to the south-east the boats docked in Apollo Bay Marina idled elegantly, sails rattling in the brisk coastal breeze. After some time I decided to take on the water, which proved to be absolutely freezing, but I ended up out there for a good half an hour after overhearing a familiar Kentish accent - sure enough a couple of sisters from Canterbury were out visiting family for a few weeks and were equally freaked out by the weirdness of floating in the sea on the beach in the late afternoon sunshine 3 days before Christmas. All Brits in Australia seem to have at least this much in common!
Wanting to check out a couple of walking trails around Lorne before the sun set, I made sure I was up and out before 5 o'clock, giving me time to take a brief detour up to Mariners' Lookout, just outside Apollo Bay. Getting to the lookout involves a drive up a quite ridiculously steep section of road - parts must have been approaching 45 degree gradient - to a little below the top of the tallest of several large hills that enclose the Bay into its small coastal enclave. From there it's a 10 minute trek up to the summit, whom which you have a view that can only be described as breathtaking. To the north-west, you have the Great Ocean Road winding its way up, down and around the golden-orange limestone cliffs, stretching out for miles in front of you; to the south-east you have to township of Apollo Bay, its expanse of beach and the Apollo bay peninsula jutting out into the water - though from the height of the viewpoint you can see right over the top of the peninsula out to the ocean on the other side. And just top top off an idyllic scene, a sole horse was up at the top of the hill grazing - him and I alone, looking out into infinity. Naturally, I nabbed a snappy snap:
After spending about 10km on the way back stuck behind a Winnebago (camping van), I got a good half hour of enjoying the open road once Mr. Slow had finally turned left at Kennet River, though I detoured on arrival in Lorne to head up to the steep hills to the top of town, park the car, and trek for 20 minutes or so through Queens Park and its forests of gum trees up to Teddy's Lookout. The lookout offers yet another incredible viewpoint of the GOR winding its way out of Lorne, but here combining the rocky, rugged cliffs with the mouth St. George River, itself rolling down to the coast from the lush green forest inland, and merging with the sea 100 feet below us. I personally think the photo below is pretty good, but it still does scant justice to what was on display in reality.
The sightseeing wasn't over just yet - after descending back down to me car I headed inland further to Erskine Falls - located 8km inland from Lorne within the Great Otway National Park. Completely enclosed by dense forest, you'd never say you're in the same state as the dry, desolate landscapes I'd seen just a week ago up in the bush - the roar of water crashing down 100 feet or was barely visible as you approached it through the forest, so dense was the vegetation. That is not to say it was a puny waterfall - the viewing platform from the top gives you a tidy view right down to the bottom (though fit lads like yours truly who are prepared to climb all the way back up can also work their way right down to the bottom to look back up - and get corny photos like the one below) and gives you a pretty solid appreciation of the potentially behind the simple combination of water and gravity...
What was similar to the bush was the nutter 'roos, one of whom sat on the side of the road watching my car as it approached, and picked that exact moment to jump across the road. Luckily I was slowing down as soon as I saw him (I wanted a photo), so all harm was averted. But you do wonder about the intelligence of some creatures...
Anyway, in terms of all-round enjoyment, this was without doubt one of the best days of my life, and good days tend to begin and end with good food. A nice bit of seafood marinara pasta, loaded with fresh prawns, mussels, scallops and fish saw me nicely settled for dinner, and a rowdy mix of Swiss Germans, Quebecois Canadanians, Queenslanders and various miscellaneous others provided entertainment of sorts over a few beers back at the hostel well into the early hours.
P.S. I've also uploaded a couple of photos to "Part 1"...
Continuing from where I left off...
DAY 2
Free Sunday parking in Geelong expires at 9am on Monday morning, so I had to be up and out of the Nash bright and early which, all in all, worked out quite well as I headed south-east to the Surf Coast (as the stretch from the Bellarine Peninsula down to Cape Otway is known). The Great Ocean Road begins shortly after the seaside town of Torquay, which is home to some hefty waves and hundreds of surfers, but otherwise not a great deal for someone working on a budget - general consensus is that it's a bit of a pretty boys' town. However, the town's war memorial garden a top of a protruding section of rock, aptly named "Point Danger", provides a nice view looking both ways up and down the coast (the former seen in the photo below).
Heading out from Torquay puts you onto the Great Ocean Road (or "GOR"), although you don't see much of what the hype is about for a long way yet - it's about 40km from Torquay to the next town, Anglesea, and most of it is somewhat inland cutting through sections of the Great Otway National Park. Anglesea itself is a quiet little town, again with a beach full of boogie-boarders, but its most famous tourist attraction is almost certainly its golf course at the top of the town - in amongst the fareways live an army of kangaroos that hop around without a care in the world as golfers smack balls around them. Several tourist information centres had described it as being a place where you're guaranteed to see 'roos in the wild, and the LPG confidently declares that "there's always a posse of them along the Golf Links Road". It was typical, therefore, that even after driving around the course for about half an hour, I didn't see a single one. Disappointing.
As you continue further down the coast, you pass Bells Beach, renouned as having the best surf almost anywhere in Australia, and soon arrive at Airey's Inlet - a tiny little village with a population of 1000 that is home to one of the many big lighthouses that mark the major indented heads along the GOR's coastal route - which was historically the shipwreck capital of the British Empire. With ships going down like high catches to Adam Dowson, with the frequency of a Jamie Nimmo forward defensive, every major indented head along the whole southern coast was armed with a lighthouse that could project light 7km out to sea by the end of the 19th century. But back in the present, I was in need of a sharp bit of coffee, I stopped off at a cosy little family run cafe next to the lighthouse and ended up stuck in a conversation with an old Aussie chap who, while perfectly friendly, was pretty damn deaf and responding to most things by shouting "WHART?" at the top of his voice. And, being a man of a different generation, he had some fairly amusing views on the world, British culture (big fan), Australian culture (not a fan), and various other issues spanning the fallacy of global warming and state of Australian cricket. 
Anyway, with nowhere booked for tonight either, I was quite keen on getting down to Lorne, which most people had told me was the place to crash, and getting somewhere sorted. As well as including the famous "Great Ocean Road" sign suitable posed above, the section from Airey's Inlet to Lorne is where the GOR begins to unveil its full flamboyant glory, running along the water's edge, rising and falling as it scales the geological barriers in its path, diving in and out of crumbling limestone cliff faces; all the while with the turquoise blue Southern Ocean over to you left, lapping the sands of the countless beaches along the way. Amazing driving conditions, and on top of that it turned out things really aren't as rammed - at least at my end of the market - as some people made out - first hostel I went to had plenty(ish) of space so it was happy days for me. Lorne is a beautiful little town, with a pier out to the sea overlooking the town's long stretch of beach. I had a pre-lunch swim in the sea, but then post-lunch decided to make the most of having a car at my disposal on an amazing stretch of road and cruised down to Apollo Bay - the next major town, a further 45km down the GOR.
I reached Apollo Bay at about 3.45pm - it would have been a lot sooner had I not been stuck for 39 of the 45 kilometres behind a nut who refused to make use of any of the 50 or so lay-bys provided with the explicit signposted orders: "Slow vehicles pull over in turnouts. Please consider vehicles behind you". This plonker had no consideration, and dawdled along a road with an 80km/h speed limit (50mph) at a mindnumbing 40km/h all the way into Apollo Bay where he finally pulled over to park. I'd be downright lying if I tried to claim that a fair few expletives hadn't been uttered in my Tiida, but all was forgotten as I lay out on the white sand in the evening sun, looking out to the beach stretching away for miles to the north west, while to the south-east the boats docked in Apollo Bay Marina idled elegantly, sails rattling in the brisk coastal breeze. After some time I decided to take on the water, which proved to be absolutely freezing, but I ended up out there for a good half an hour after overhearing a familiar Kentish accent - sure enough a couple of sisters from Canterbury were out visiting family for a few weeks and were equally freaked out by the weirdness of floating in the sea on the beach in the late afternoon sunshine 3 days before Christmas. All Brits in Australia seem to have at least this much in common!
Wanting to check out a couple of walking trails around Lorne before the sun set, I made sure I was up and out before 5 o'clock, giving me time to take a brief detour up to Mariners' Lookout, just outside Apollo Bay. Getting to the lookout involves a drive up a quite ridiculously steep section of road - parts must have been approaching 45 degree gradient - to a little below the top of the tallest of several large hills that enclose the Bay into its small coastal enclave. From there it's a 10 minute trek up to the summit, whom which you have a view that can only be described as breathtaking. To the north-west, you have the Great Ocean Road winding its way up, down and around the golden-orange limestone cliffs, stretching out for miles in front of you; to the south-east you have to township of Apollo Bay, its expanse of beach and the Apollo bay peninsula jutting out into the water - though from the height of the viewpoint you can see right over the top of the peninsula out to the ocean on the other side. And just top top off an idyllic scene, a sole horse was up at the top of the hill grazing - him and I alone, looking out into infinity. Naturally, I nabbed a snappy snap:
After spending about 10km on the way back stuck behind a Winnebago (camping van), I got a good half hour of enjoying the open road once Mr. Slow had finally turned left at Kennet River, though I detoured on arrival in Lorne to head up to the steep hills to the top of town, park the car, and trek for 20 minutes or so through Queens Park and its forests of gum trees up to Teddy's Lookout. The lookout offers yet another incredible viewpoint of the GOR winding its way out of Lorne, but here combining the rocky, rugged cliffs with the mouth St. George River, itself rolling down to the coast from the lush green forest inland, and merging with the sea 100 feet below us. I personally think the photo below is pretty good, but it still does scant justice to what was on display in reality.
The sightseeing wasn't over just yet - after descending back down to me car I headed inland further to Erskine Falls - located 8km inland from Lorne within the Great Otway National Park. Completely enclosed by dense forest, you'd never say you're in the same state as the dry, desolate landscapes I'd seen just a week ago up in the bush - the roar of water crashing down 100 feet or was barely visible as you approached it through the forest, so dense was the vegetation. That is not to say it was a puny waterfall - the viewing platform from the top gives you a tidy view right down to the bottom (though fit lads like yours truly who are prepared to climb all the way back up can also work their way right down to the bottom to look back up - and get corny photos like the one below) and gives you a pretty solid appreciation of the potentially behind the simple combination of water and gravity...
What was similar to the bush was the nutter 'roos, one of whom sat on the side of the road watching my car as it approached, and picked that exact moment to jump across the road. Luckily I was slowing down as soon as I saw him (I wanted a photo), so all harm was averted. But you do wonder about the intelligence of some creatures...
Anyway, in terms of all-round enjoyment, this was without doubt one of the best days of my life, and good days tend to begin and end with good food. A nice bit of seafood marinara pasta, loaded with fresh prawns, mussels, scallops and fish saw me nicely settled for dinner, and a rowdy mix of Swiss Germans, Quebecois Canadanians, Queenslanders and various miscellaneous others provided entertainment of sorts over a few beers back at the hostel well into the early hours.
P.S. I've also uploaded a couple of photos to "Part 1"...
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Parklife
BENGALURU (BANGALORE), KARNATAKA - 25th October 2009
While achieving minor fame on the side, I was able to check out some of Bangalore's sights with various relations (and get some more "Back the Bid" photos). Meeting up with a cousin, we went for dinner to "UB City" - a mini-Manhattan in the heart of Bangalore built by Vijay Mallya - owner of United Breweries (of "Kingfisher" fame)/tycoon/India's answer to Richard Branson - on the site of an old UB brewery.
It is like stepping into another continent. One minute you're driving down a half-built road inhabited by half-brained drivers driving half-smashed cars in what is best described as "classical" India - the next minute you're in the plushest New York city centre shopping complex with clean crisp multi-story parking, classy restaurants and outdoor piazzas and ultra-modern glass towers surrounding you - the tallest of which is a model of the Empire State Building. You've gotta take your hats of to Mallya - the guy's his own self-proclaimed brand ambassador - he doesn't need celebrities to endorse the Kingfisher brand when he's living the dream himself. For example, a few years back for his 50th birthday, he hosted a mammoth party in his bungalow in Goa. As you do, it was decided that a fly-by of Kingfisher Airlines' latest Airbus fleet should be organised, so a few phone calls were made and Goa airspace was closed for half an hour while 10 jet airliners cruised around Panaji. In India, great wealth always equals great power...
Roaming around with my uncle during the day(s), we also managed to check out some of the city's historical eating establishments, including Koshy's on St. Mark's Road - around since 1940 and caterers to HM Queen Elizabeth and the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi; and Mavalli Tiffin Rooms - a quality thali joint on Lalbagh Road that represents the home of the MTR brand, now known internationally for various powdered spices, coffee, and various other pre-packaged bits and bobs. A quick Google search suggests they've even done well enough to have their own Wikipedia page!
Just down the road from MTR is one of Bangalore's landmark sights - the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens. The self-styled "Lung of the City" is a huge park right in the middle of town that features - as you would expect from a Botanical Garden - all sorts of plantlife from pretty much every climate across the world. It is always nice to be able to wander around an area that, despite being slap bang in the middle of one of Asia's busiest cities, has the peace and tranquility of the middle of the ocean - the cooling breeze lifting off the park's lake combined with the swathes of shade provided by towering canopies of tropical trees transport you to a whole new place - open space, clean air, quiet... it's all so anti-Bangalore!
While Lalbagh Gardens was a spectacular showcase for the flora of the region, a Sunday afternoon safari trip to Bannerghatta National Park very much ticked to fauna box. After shifting residence from one cousin's place to another on Friday night, we went on a big family trip - about an hour and a half's drive to the south of the city. The place must be about 1000+ acres, and is divided into various reserve enclosures for different animals. In a manner somewhat similar to Jurassic Park, you hop on board a safari bus and head off into the wilderness. Every so often you reach a gateway that opens up into another gate - a sort of double door mechanism to stop any of the big cats/bears escaping and going on a rampage - but within the gates you are treated to groundhogs and bison; bears; lions; tigers; and white tigers, in enclosures 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 respectively.
As I say, the enclosures are huge - once you're inside it is very much like you're out in the open savanna, and the bus driver uses his experience to spot various animals at a distance where possible. But occasionally, as anyone who's been on a safari will know, you're lucky enough to catch one up close an personal... and the thrill of my life came as we were approaching the exit gate of the final enclosure.
Kotching on the floor by the gate sat not one, not two, but three tigers. Two white, one red; both looking straight at our bus as it approached. It's worth pointing out that these vehicles are massively re-enforced around the window and engine regions, but you can't help feeling the adrenaline flow as you pull up literally 2 metres away from these three bad boys - sitting, flexing their colossal thigh muscles and generally looking like they owned the joint. The red one in particular had the sort of "I'm the Boss" look of unadulterated power that is blatantly thinking, "I could absolutely munch these guys". There are some killer photos, and they will appear very soon (they're uploaded on the computer, so they actually will be there soon!).
The final chapter of Bangalore before the morning's train journey to Mangalore was a stop at Fanoo's, another famous haunt at Johnson Market. It is no exaggeration to say I've eaten my fair share of kebabs of all varieties in my time, and I was fast arriving at the conclusion that kebabs of the seekh variety obtained perfection at a nondescript restaurant on Drummond Street (near Euston Station in London). However, sitting in the back seat of my cousin's car with his younger son* on my lap, I had a gastronomic revelation on a par with sliced bread. This seekh kebab was perfection wrapped in paper. Apparently the one I had was a "jumbo" size - I could have devoured about 5 on the spot. If rumours of a larger, "mumbo-jumbo" variety are true, my next trip to Bangalore could well be fast-tracked...
* My cousin's younger son - Kevin, 9 - provided an interesting repost to my views on Wayne Rooney. While his elder brother Brian has made use of the wisdom provided by his extra years and supports Manchester United, Kevin has - for some unfathomable reason - decided to support Chelski...
DR: "Wayne Rooney is the best footballer in the Premiership... he's pretty much God's Gift to football"
KF: "Wayne Rooney is a multi-coloured gorilla. And you're also a multi-coloured gorilla.".
The Oxford Union awaits...
While achieving minor fame on the side, I was able to check out some of Bangalore's sights with various relations (and get some more "Back the Bid" photos). Meeting up with a cousin, we went for dinner to "UB City" - a mini-Manhattan in the heart of Bangalore built by Vijay Mallya - owner of United Breweries (of "Kingfisher" fame)/tycoon/India's answer to Richard Branson - on the site of an old UB brewery.
It is like stepping into another continent. One minute you're driving down a half-built road inhabited by half-brained drivers driving half-smashed cars in what is best described as "classical" India - the next minute you're in the plushest New York city centre shopping complex with clean crisp multi-story parking, classy restaurants and outdoor piazzas and ultra-modern glass towers surrounding you - the tallest of which is a model of the Empire State Building. You've gotta take your hats of to Mallya - the guy's his own self-proclaimed brand ambassador - he doesn't need celebrities to endorse the Kingfisher brand when he's living the dream himself. For example, a few years back for his 50th birthday, he hosted a mammoth party in his bungalow in Goa. As you do, it was decided that a fly-by of Kingfisher Airlines' latest Airbus fleet should be organised, so a few phone calls were made and Goa airspace was closed for half an hour while 10 jet airliners cruised around Panaji. In India, great wealth always equals great power...
Roaming around with my uncle during the day(s), we also managed to check out some of the city's historical eating establishments, including Koshy's on St. Mark's Road - around since 1940 and caterers to HM Queen Elizabeth and the late Prime Minister Indira Gandhi; and Mavalli Tiffin Rooms - a quality thali joint on Lalbagh Road that represents the home of the MTR brand, now known internationally for various powdered spices, coffee, and various other pre-packaged bits and bobs. A quick Google search suggests they've even done well enough to have their own Wikipedia page!
Just down the road from MTR is one of Bangalore's landmark sights - the Lalbagh Botanical Gardens. The self-styled "Lung of the City" is a huge park right in the middle of town that features - as you would expect from a Botanical Garden - all sorts of plantlife from pretty much every climate across the world. It is always nice to be able to wander around an area that, despite being slap bang in the middle of one of Asia's busiest cities, has the peace and tranquility of the middle of the ocean - the cooling breeze lifting off the park's lake combined with the swathes of shade provided by towering canopies of tropical trees transport you to a whole new place - open space, clean air, quiet... it's all so anti-Bangalore!While Lalbagh Gardens was a spectacular showcase for the flora of the region, a Sunday afternoon safari trip to Bannerghatta National Park very much ticked to fauna box. After shifting residence from one cousin's place to another on Friday night, we went on a big family trip - about an hour and a half's drive to the south of the city. The place must be about 1000+ acres, and is divided into various reserve enclosures for different animals. In a manner somewhat similar to Jurassic Park, you hop on board a safari bus and head off into the wilderness. Every so often you reach a gateway that opens up into another gate - a sort of double door mechanism to stop any of the big cats/bears escaping and going on a rampage - but within the gates you are treated to groundhogs and bison; bears; lions; tigers; and white tigers, in enclosures 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 respectively.
As I say, the enclosures are huge - once you're inside it is very much like you're out in the open savanna, and the bus driver uses his experience to spot various animals at a distance where possible. But occasionally, as anyone who's been on a safari will know, you're lucky enough to catch one up close an personal... and the thrill of my life came as we were approaching the exit gate of the final enclosure.
Kotching on the floor by the gate sat not one, not two, but three tigers. Two white, one red; both looking straight at our bus as it approached. It's worth pointing out that these vehicles are massively re-enforced around the window and engine regions, but you can't help feeling the adrenaline flow as you pull up literally 2 metres away from these three bad boys - sitting, flexing their colossal thigh muscles and generally looking like they owned the joint. The red one in particular had the sort of "I'm the Boss" look of unadulterated power that is blatantly thinking, "I could absolutely munch these guys". There are some killer photos, and they will appear very soon (they're uploaded on the computer, so they actually will be there soon!).
The final chapter of Bangalore before the morning's train journey to Mangalore was a stop at Fanoo's, another famous haunt at Johnson Market. It is no exaggeration to say I've eaten my fair share of kebabs of all varieties in my time, and I was fast arriving at the conclusion that kebabs of the seekh variety obtained perfection at a nondescript restaurant on Drummond Street (near Euston Station in London). However, sitting in the back seat of my cousin's car with his younger son* on my lap, I had a gastronomic revelation on a par with sliced bread. This seekh kebab was perfection wrapped in paper. Apparently the one I had was a "jumbo" size - I could have devoured about 5 on the spot. If rumours of a larger, "mumbo-jumbo" variety are true, my next trip to Bangalore could well be fast-tracked...
* My cousin's younger son - Kevin, 9 - provided an interesting repost to my views on Wayne Rooney. While his elder brother Brian has made use of the wisdom provided by his extra years and supports Manchester United, Kevin has - for some unfathomable reason - decided to support Chelski...
DR: "Wayne Rooney is the best footballer in the Premiership... he's pretty much God's Gift to football"
KF: "Wayne Rooney is a multi-coloured gorilla. And you're also a multi-coloured gorilla.".
The Oxford Union awaits...
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