N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 3 • ` 1 2 0 • VO L . 2
ISSUE 5
Spotlight on
Asia
From China’s Ice and Snow Festival to the deserts of Abu Dhabi
INDONESIA OLD BALI MAGIC | UGANDA GRAPHIC ESSAY | FIJI RENEWING CORAL
WINTER SPECIAL
WINTER SPECIAL
November 2013 G E O G R A P H I C
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WINTER SPECIAL
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T R A V E L L E R
BALI MAGIC
I N D I A
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CHANGING TIDES
Winter wonders at Harbin’s Ice and Snow Festival
Veiled by a haze of frangipani blossoms, the Indonesian island reveals itself in its myths and traditions
Worlds away from the bustle of Ho Chi Minh City, lives on the Mekong Delta are in flux
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PANDORA’S PILLARS
ICE, ICE BABY
CAMBODIA’S COMEBACK
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Boutique hotels help Phnom Penh rise above its violent past
Instagramming through the Thai capital’s antique market
BANGKOK FLASHBACKS
Science fiction meets reality in southeastern China
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HONG KONG SECRETS
KATHMANDU ESSENTIALS Exploring the Nepali city’s cultural kaleidoscope
THE BIG EMPTY
Beyond gleaming Abu Dhabi, the Bedouin world is a swirl of falcons, camels, and moonlit conversations
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Make the most of Asia’s Manhattan
84 Two familiar sights in Bali: umbrellas and smiles.
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RAYMOND PATRICK/ NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC
N A T I O N A L
VOL. 2 ISSUE 5
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COCONUT, PAPRIKA AND PEANUTS: MACAU’S FUSION CUISINE Looking beyond casinos to explore the Macanese food scene
JOURNEYS
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THE GOOD ROAD
Farsan, family, and a few thousand kilometres through Gujarat
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A REEF OF ONE’S OWN
Local communities in Fiji find the balance between livelihood, tourism, and protecting their environment
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ENDURING IMPRESSIONS FROM A MUZUNGU
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MARC CONLIN/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (FIJI), DINODIA (LIONESS)
Sketches and snatches of everyday life in Uganda
On The Cover novemb
v oL. 2 • `120 • er 2013
Asia
t Spotlighon
oLD bALI InDoneSIA
ISSUe 5
winter special
Ice and From China’s the to Snow Festival Dhabi deserts of Abu
mAgIc | UgAnDA
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ng corAL | FIJI renewI
Xu Yijun photographed the colossal sculptures at the Ice and Snow Festival in Harbin in northeastern China. This picture is of Snow World, which features life-size, neon-lit, fairytale castles crafted from solid blocks of ice.
www.natgeotraveller.in www.facebook.com/ natgeotraveller.india
18 Editor’s Note | 170 Inspire
VOICES
24 Real Travel Give in to the temptations of travel 26 Guest Column Tales of the weird and wonderful
54 36 The Place The star of Bethlehem
70 Dark Tourism Spaces of remembrance
Local Flavour 38 Mutta mala, from Portugal to Kozhikode 40 The classic dish of Fez 40 Bengaluru’s groundnut festival
GET GOING
28 Guest Column The born-again lounger
42 National Park West Bengal’s rhino haven
NAVIGATE 30 Take Five Visit the makers of the world’s great musical instruments 32 Tech Travel Smartphones turn treasure hunters
48 Go Now Heritage music festivals bring old monuments to life Culture 52 Harsiddhi’s agile lamplighters 52 The 400-year-old Romanov legacy 54 Copenhagen’s summer Santa parade
48 The Comeback 56 A stolen artefact returns to India 56 Machu Picchu’s treasures go home 58 The Icon Tower of Pisa 60 Port of Call An easy-going Aussie town 62 The Trend Marine parks of the future
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150 Head and Shoulders Mysore’s yoga subculture 156 Still Waters Lakeside walks to unplug and unwind
SHORT BREAKS 158 From Bengaluru Explore the mysteries of Lepakshi’s unfinished sculptures 162 From Mumbai Mulshi’s lake district 165 Stay Solitude reigns supreme in Spiti 166 Stay The past is present in Ahmedabad
INTERACTIVE 167 Photo Workshop Capturing the bigger picture with Nilanjan Das 169 Photo Contest The best of readers’ photos
64 Detour Venice’s San Michele cemetery
LAST PAGE
66 48 Hours Zagreb’s creative wave
176 Dire Straits The ruins of Tughlaqabad
AFP/STAFF/GETTY IMAGES (SANTA), PHOTO COURTESY: A CRRAFT OF ART (MUSIC FESTIVAL) XU YIJUN/CORBIS IMAGES (COVER)
22 Tread Softly Choose the joy of riding over the need for speed
EDITOR’S NOTE Niloufer Venkatraman
NOT A DIRTY WORD
O
ne of the guilty pleasures I indulge in, whenever I’m on holiday, is a massage. And when I’m travelling in Asia, this becomes almost routine. Within hours of reaching my hotel in Koh Samui, Thailand, a few months ago, I had checked out the various massage facilities available in the area. I’ve had my share of massages at swanky spas in posh hotels in India and abroad, complete with fragrant aroma oils, lounge music, and the sounds of flowing water or birds chirping, and I’ll admit those experiences have their charm. But in Koh Samui I found that it was the ladies on the beach in their open-air, makeshift stalls with daybeds that gave the most relaxing and rejuvenating foot, head, and body massages. I was introduced to professional massage when I was a graduate student. An American friend, who
was a certified masseuse suggested, and I reluctantly agreed to barter a four-course Indian meal for a Shiatsu massage, a traditional Japanese form of bodywork. One massage later, I was ready to cook her a ten-course meal every week. As I relaxed under the gentle pressure of that massage, I began to fall asleep. But she wouldn’t let me. She made me close my eyes and taught me to tune into my breath. In that one hour, I recognised that I had months of knotty tensions in my shoulders which I’d ignored as an expected stiffness from hours at a desk. The massage relieved pent-up stresses; I felt lighter, calmer, and was pleasantly surprised to find a new meaning to the word relaxed. Growing up, I don’t think anyone in my family had massages—it just wasn’t part of our lives. In fact, I can swear that in the narrow, puritanical world of the Christian girls’
school I attended, massage was a dirty word. Of course, no one will deny that Thailand is full of seedy massage joints offering all kinds of “other” services. However, a sensible approach can lead you to the right place. You should choose the place with care, and ensure the person giving the massage does not hurt you. I go by some simple rules: if it looks wrong, it is; if it hurts, speak up and stop the person right there. My experience in places like Kathmandu, Hong Kong, Bangkok, and elsewhere in Thailand is that there are plenty of familyfriendly places offering quality massages. In fact, we discovered just how family-friendly it can be on this trip to Thailand. On day one, lying on a shady bed on tranquil Choeng Mon beach, I closed my eyes as Fai, the masseuse, pressed a point on my heel. One of the other masseuses, noticing
my daughter’s impatience as she waited for my husband and me to be done, asked her whether she’d like a massage too. “Half price for children. Very gentle massage,” she said reassuringly to me. I was surprised when my seven-yearold agreed. For the next week, all three of us indulged in a massage every single day. It was nice, and also a bit scary to see how much my little girl was enjoying it, falling sound asleep every time. Last month we were in Lonavla for a weekend, and after a long day of running, playing and bicycle riding my daughter collapsed in bed by 7.30 p.m. As she was falling asleep, she asked, “We’re on holiday, right?” “Yes,” I said, wondering where this line of questioning was leading. “Then please,” she requested, “can you give me a little massage before I go to sleep?” n
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EYE UBIQUITOUS/INDIAPICTURE
I reluctantly agreed to barter a four-course Indian meal for a Shiatsu massage, a traditional Japanese form of bodywork
LETTERS Inbox
OLDIE BUT GOODIE I was introduced to my first Enid Blyton book by my mother when I was seven years old. As I lost myself in the thrilling adventures of the Famous Five, Secret Seven, and Five FindOuters, my love for reading grew stronger. Imagine my excitement when I discovered that one of your writers actually made the trip to Dorset, to explore the ruined castles and sunny seaside that inspired Blyton (Oct 2013 issue). It made me so nostalgic, I immediately ran down to my local library to pick up one of those timeless classics. —Lakshmi Kalpathi I have spent time in Jim Corbett National Park in Uttarakhand and Tadoba National Park in Maharashtra, where I have photographed big cats. But I had not captured a leopard. So I went to Kabini Sanctuary in Karnataka, rumoured to be the best place in India to sight these cats. Over a week, I saw numerous animals. Nine safaris later, I finally got the kind of image I wanted. I now have a beautiful leopard picture (above) to add to my collection. —P.S. Anand
forest office. It was a terrifying but humbling experience. —Akash Pandya Thank you for your story “In a Malgudi State of Mind”, in the September issue. It was so beautifully written, it transported me straight back to my childhood when I used to watch the Malgudi television series. I bought the entire DVD collection even before I could finish the story! This is the magic of Nat Geo Traveller, I love it! —Atis Basak
HOW TO CONTACT US Emails: letters@natgeotraveller.in Letters: Editor, National Geographic Traveller India, Krishna House, 3rd floor, Raghuvanshi Mills Compound, Lower Parel, Mumbai 400 013. Include address and telephone number. Not all letters can be published or answered; those published may be excerpted and edited. Customer Service: To subscribe or manage a subscription, email us at subscribe@natgeotraveller.in or call 022-4049 7417/31/35/36.
—Atis Basak
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I bought the Malgudi DVD collection even before I could finish the story! This is the magic of Nat Geo Traveller”
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The September issue of Nat Geo Traveller was amazing. I especially liked the story “Into the Heart of Darkness”, which resonated with my trek to the Girnar Sanctuary in Junagadh (Gujarat). The rains were around the corner, the grass was tall, and the trail we had to follow was very narrow. On one of our walking safaris, we lost sight of our trail. It was getting dark when suddenly we heard the distant roar of a lion. Understandably, we were engulfed with fear, and didn’t breathe easy until we had reached the
VOICES Guest Column
STRAYING OFF THE BEATEN PATH ALWAYS MAKES FOR BETTER STORIES
Boyd Matson
W
ithout a hint of embarrassment or irony, June of Boca Raton, Florida, explains that her toaster is possessed by the devil. How has she come to such a conclusion? “I heard a voice say, ‘I am the devil,’ ” she replies. To validate her claims for the Today Show story I’m reporting, she produces supporting evidence—several slices of burnt toast with messages scraped into their blackened surfaces, allegedly by the devil. One has the number 666, another a pitchfork; a third says, “Satan Lives.” The chrome toaster is given a chance to prove its innocence or guilt while the camera rolls. As the woman struggles to insert a slice of bread, she warns, “It seems to be aware.” Within seconds, a flash and flames shoot from the coils. Finally, when asked why she keeps this appliance in her kitchen, she gives a simple answer: “When all is said and done, it makes good toast.” To my surprise, that interview from 1984 recently went viral on the Internet, inspiring me to reflect on some of the other characters I’ve encountered during my lifetime on the road. I’ve always had a fondness for people who have veered off the interstate and are wandering the back roads, navigating life without a map. Their stories may strain the bounds of
credibility, but their tales are nothing if not memorable. In southern California, I recognise a fellow traveller in Ruth—or Uriel, as she’s known at the Unarius Academy of Science in El Cajon. In fact, she insists she is not from this planet. Now, I’ve occasionally suspected that certain acquaintances were not of this world, but never before has anyone stated as much so directly. Uriel, however, does not keep secrets, telling me (and anyone who will listen) that she has lived on 33 planets. She wears a ball gown that doubles as a 3D map of the galaxy, studded with glowing orbs that represent the many planets where she’s had a mortgage. It’s a confirmation dress of sorts—confirmation that she’s a stranger in a strange land. But why did Uriel wind up on our primitive little ball of dirt floating through the cosmos? It seems she came to Earth to prepare a landing site for her “brothers from other planets.” Uriel passed away before the spaceships were to have arrived in 2001, and last time I checked in El Cajon, the ships had not landed. Maybe the flights have been delayed due to intergalactic solar flares, or maybe the space brothers are using the Mayan calendar, which has proven easy to misunderstand. Over in Page, Arizona, I meet a couple who seem to be a perfect match. The wife makes wallets, hats, and lampshades from fragments of old beer cans that she stitches together. But it’s her husband’s job that really grabs my interest. He collects the beer cans from along the highway—or, when he can’t find enough empties, he takes it upon himself to drink sufficient quantities of beer to keep his wife stocked with art supplies. Near Albuquerque, New Mexico, I meet another
Boyd Matson is a journalist and adventurer for National Geographic U.S. and hosts the radio show National Geographic Weekend.
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DON HAUGUM
Tales of the Weird and Wonderful
artist, Tony. He makes kachina dolls for peace, out of scrap metal sold from the nuclear weapons lab, Sandia. In rural Arkansas, I find a couple who earn a living by teaching chickens to play the piano. In California, under the Joshua trees off the highway near Hesperia, a guy named Miles gives me a tour of his openair home that’s part roadside attraction, part folk-art emporium. To me it looks like a couch and a defunct refrigerator. On a small platform, Miles tap-dances, tells stories, and quotes poetry for tourists who stop by. As we’re saying goodbye, he hands me a bank statement, explaining, “I don’t want you to think I’m a bum because I sleep in my car out here.” The account balance is $98,000. And for years during the 1980s, wherever I went in the United States people claimed to have seen, spoken to, or slept with Elvis after his 1977 death—or, as they would put it, “his alleged death”. A woman in Atlanta swears to me, in front of her current husband, that she had lived with Elvis for three years; as proof she produces fuzzy pictures of a heavyset guy with hair dyed black. She is positive he was the real thing, because he always carried a briefcase full of pills. A gas station attendant in upstate New York shows me the autograph that “Elvis” signed after filling up his tank at the self-service pump. But for every person who promises to have encountered Elvis posthumously, I meet at least a dozen others who are pretending to be the King. In Boone, Iowa, a woman pulls on a jumpsuit, a pair of sunglasses, and a black wig to lip-synch to Elvis records at the local Elks lodge. In Chicago a 12-year-old boy in a jumpsuit shakes his hips as the hired entertainment at small parties. Unsurprisingly, I see many overweight guys doing their versions of “Elvis: the later years.” My main takeaway? Girth plus hair dye does not equal talent. I may not share the lifestyle choices or even the same perception of reality with the characters I’ve met on my travels, but I will always appreciate their commitment to carving out little spaces of their own. Their stories make the world a more fascinating, entertaining, and curious place to explore. And when it’s all said and done, they make good toast. n
WINTER SPECIAL The Insider
Kathmandu Essentials THE MUST-SEES AND MUST-DOS IN NEPAL’S EXCITING CAPITAL By MALAVIKA BHATTACHARYA
living goddess and some of the most sacred temples and monasteries in the world. It’s easy to get caught up in a whirl, visiting Durbar Square, Pashupatinath, and checking them off your sightseeing list, or getting lost in the maze of cafés and kitschy stores in Thamel. It’s also possible to indulge in both the spiritual and the sybaritic. Mezze platters for lunch, an afternoon listening to the solemn chanting of Buddhist monks, and an evening busting out 1980s dance moves in a retro funk bar—it’s all possible in Kathmandu.
DAY 1 MORNING Sunrise Views An early morning mini-trek up to Swayambhunath ensures that you’ll catch fewer tourists, fresher air, and, on a clear day, some spectacular views of Kathmandu. It’s best to climb the 365 stairs to the stupa before the sun really starts beating
At the top of the long flight of steps to the Swayambhunath stupa, pilgrims and visitors are treated to views of the Kathmandu Valley. The 13-tiered spire atop the stupa represents the many levels of knowledge that must be acquired on the path to enlightenment.
N
epal’s capital assumes different avatars for different kinds of travellers. To some, it’s a gateway town for trekking in the Nepal Himalayas. To many, it’s a backpacker
haven, a hotbed of cheap accommodation, lively bars, and expat-friendly cafés reminiscent of Kathmandu’s once-thriving hippy culture. For others, it’s a deeply spiritual experience, an ancient city with a
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down. Alternatively, you could ask your taxi to drop you off further up the hill, from where it’s just a short ascent. Stop along the way for views of trees strung with fluttering prayer flags and wrestling monkeys. Atop the hill, Buddha’s eyes on the main stupa look down at monkeys bounding among the prayer wheels, shrines, and temples below. For a quick bite and morning coffee with a view, stop by Café de Stupa near Swayambhunath Temple, from where you can see the sprawling splendour of the Kathmandu Valley, a carpet of green interspersed with stubby houses that look like little toys (entry `32 for SAARC nationals).
MARTIN GRAY/NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC/GETTY IMAGES
Kathmandu’s history is written in its durbar squares, museums and palaces, but it’s nearly impossible to see all of these in a day
Comb the tiny bylanes of Kathmandu (top left) for a glimpse of everyday life and the striking, if crumbling, brick and woodwork of traditional Newari architecture; Among the huge variety of spices and condiments Kathmandu’s spice sellers peddle (top right) is timur, a variety of Sichuan pepper that is unique to the region; Besides Kathmandu’s bustling Durbar Square (bottom), there are also Durbar Squares in Patan and Bhatkapur. The plazas are UNESCO World Heritage Sites that were once the precincts of Nepali royalty.
On two wheels Thamel can be overwhelming in the evenings, but in the afternoon, the crowds are smaller and the roads are easier to navigate. Hire a cycle from one of the many rental stores in the area for a more convenient journey through this web of budget hotels, shops, cool cafés, and bars. Thamel is traveller central, and here you will find lanes crammed with stores selling everything from trekking equipment to AFTERNOON
thangka paintings. If you suddenly find yourself in need of a khukri or a singing bowl, Thamel is the place to go. Rejuvenate yourself with a freshly brewed cup of coffee at the Coffee Shop Chikusa, and though you’ll be spoilt for choice with dining options, OR2K in Thamel is a great Middle Eastern restaurant filled with tourists dining on falafel and shakshuka. (Himalayan Single Track in Thamel rents
EVENING Dance the night away Get an early start in the evening, because Kathmandu’s nightlife shuts down early. Catch a band outside of the tourist-overrun bars to experience how locals like to kick back. Tuesday and Friday nights at Moksha in Lalitpur (11 a.m.-11 p.m.) are raucous fun with their house band What The Funk belting out eminently danceable tunes. Jazz Upstairs in residential Lazimpat is a more intimate venue that generally flies under the radar. Here, up a dark flight of stairs, local and expat jazz aficionados sip their whisky while soaking in the music on Wednesday and Saturday nights. The wood-panelled bar is adorned with posters of Miles Davis and other jazz greats, the drinks menu is scrawled on a blackboard above the bar, the pork curry and rice is simple and wholesome—just like the establishment.
DAY 2 MORNING Healing touch Kathmandu’s history is written in its durbar squares, museums, and palaces, but it’s nearly impossible to see all of these in a day. Pick one site—either the Patan or Kathmandu Durbar Square, both of which are UNESCO World Heritage Sites, and house ancient monuments, plinths, and shrines built in the indigenous Newari style. Indulge in a therapeutic Nepali massage at Himalayan Healers, a non-profit
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TOM COCKREM/LONELY PLANET IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES (CYCLE RICKSHAW), ROBERT HARDING/INDIAPICTURE (SHOP), JOSE FUSTÉ RAGA/AGE FOTOSTOCK/DINODIA (DURBAR SQUARE)
out mountain bikes starting at `940 per day; himalayansingletrack.com. Bikes for city use can be hired from local shops starting from `312 per day.)
With stores selling everything from high-end trekking gear and Chinese knock-offs to puppets and brass idols (top left), Kathmandu is a shopper’s heaven; Street vendors (top right) cater to all tastes selling food items like sel roti, a deep-fried, doughnut-shaped breakfast item, momos stuffed with pork, and squares of churpi, a hard local cheese that can be chewed for hours; Thamel is more than a foreign tourist hotspot packed with thousands of signboards vying for business (bottom left). It is also where young locals hang out in the evenings and over the weekend; Thangkas are scroll paintings depicting Buddhist religious themes (bottom right). They were traditionally used for meditation and teaching.
boutique spa with outlets throughout the city. This social organisation, founded by a former U.S. Peace Corps volunteer, trains underprivileged women as masseuses for Ayurvedic therapies and hot stone treatments (Himalayan Healers, Lazimpat). AFTERNOON Sounds of silence Spend a sunny afternoon exploring Kathmandu’s star attraction—Boudhanath. As you circumambulate the stupa clockwise, the norm in Buddhist tradition, chants of “Om Mane Padme Hum” rise all around. Grab lunch at the nearby Japanese restaurant Sakura, savouring sushi, miso soup, and green tea as you look out upon the large Buddhist stupa. After 3 p.m., the
Guru Lhakhang monastery near the stupa
reopens. Rows of monks chant mantras in a deep, throaty tone while hitting their prayer drums. The Buddhist enclave around Boudhanath has approximately 20 smaller, quieter, hidden gompas (Tibetan monasteries and nunneries) . If you have to pick only one, visit the monastery of Shechen Tennye Dargyeling for its wide courtyards, friendly residents and large library. Pop into the adjacent Tsering Art School, where young artists and monks are taught the art of making thangkas. If you’re lucky, you might witness one being painted. (Boudhanath entry fee `25 for SAARC nationals). EVENING Fast food Getting a taste of Newari cuisine is well
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worth an early dinner dash. The Village Café at Pulchowk in Lalitpur (10 a.m.-8 p.m.) promises an authentic experience in a traditional setting. Run by women from nearby villages, the restaurant with floor seating, serves otherwise hard-to-find Nepali dishes, such as yomaree, a sweet dumpling stuffed with condensed milk or raisins, and chatamari, a rice crêpe topped with meat and vegetables. Note that they close by 8 p.m. If you’d rather dine at a place with more options, Café Cheenos in Lalitpur (10 a.m.8 p.m.; near Bhat Bhateni supermarket) is lovely for a meal in a leafy garden, with a mixed menu offering Indian, Nepali, and Continental dishes. Their speciality is the stuffed chicken; they also do a good prawn curry and rice. n
TOM COCKREM/LONELY PLANET IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES (PUPPETS), NEPAL IMAGES/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (FOOD), ROBERT HARDING/INDIAPICTURE (SIGNBOARDS), FRANK BLENEWALD/CONTRIBUTOR/GETTY IMAGES (PAINTING)
WINTER SPECIAL The Insider
NAVIGATE Tech Travel
Caching In GEOCACHING IS THE WORLD’S GEEKIEST TREASURE HUNT By AZEEM BANATWALLA
T
here was a time when seeking hidden treasures required a mysterious map and a ship with a crew of scallywags with eyepatches. The treasure hunters of today however, just need a smartphone. The pursuit of geocaching isn’t quite as exciting as braving the open seas and murky caves, but it’s the closest you can get to finding little treasures you never knew existed—and a great alternative to wandering aimlessly on your travels. WHAT IS GEOCACHING?
Geocaching is a game of sorts, played by adventurers and wannabe treasure hunters the world over. The idea is to use a set
of GPS coordinates, fed into a phone or portable GPS device, to seek out caches of little trinkets hidden by other enthusiasts. There are over two million geocaches spread across the globe, and the entire list can be found online (with caches searchable by PIN code) at geocaching.com. You’ll be surprised by how close caches are to you at any given point. Seeking them out is a great way to explore areas that you wouldn’t ordinarily end up visiting, both around your neighbourhood and on your travels. Some caches may be within city limits, while others may be hidden in the mountains. Which one you go looking for is all up to you. There are close to 180
caches in India, scattered all across the country, from temple complexes in Gujarat and hiking trails around Mumbai, to the gardens of Humayun’s tomb in Delhi. Locations of some caches may only be revealed to members of the paid “premium” service, which costs around `1,900 a year. Subscribers are entitled to a number of additional privileges that include notifications about nearby caches and more detailed maps. HOW DOES IT WORK?
All you have to do is register yourself on geocaching.com and get started searching for caches close to you or a location you’d
Geocaching expeditions are spread across various landscapes, from bustling city markets to hiking trails along the ocean. FIND
NAVIGATE JOIN
SEARCH
CONNECT
SHARE
DOWNLOAD
LOCATE
NOVEMBER 2013 | NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA 33
LARS SCHNEIDER/AURORA PHOTOS/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE
RECORD
WINTER SPECIAL Culture
Tjokorda Raka, a chief of Ubud, stands on the steps outside his home. 84 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | NOVEMBER 2013
Indonesia Tegallalang village’s rice terraces sculpt a hillside in green.
THAT OLD BALI MAGIC The Indonesian island’s true heart beats in mysterious ways by JAMIE JAMES photographs by RAYMOND PATRICK NOVEMBER OCTOBER 2013 | NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA 85
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WINTER SPECIAL Culture
he joyous, hectic clangour of a gamelan, the traditional percussion ensemble of Indonesia, startles me awake just after dawn. Outside my bedroom window in Seminyak, one of Bali’s booming beach resorts, a dozen men wearing batik sarongs and headdresses sit cross-legged in the parking lot of the new nightclub across the street, banging on gongs and xylophones. I jump into my jeans and run downstairs. The morning din turns out to be a melaspas, a ceremony unique to Bali that is held to bless the opening of a new building. The gamelan’s brassy notes are intended to drive away any evil influences. Inside, the owner, a Balinese man in his 30s with a lurid crimson-and-cobalt tattoo on his
Rain doesn’t dampen the spirits of villagers (above and facing page) gathered in Desa Tebuana for a tree-cutting ceremony. The ritual asks permission from the tree’s spirit to chop down the wood, which will be crafted into a sacred temple mask.
arm and a real Rolex on his left, gives me a neighbourly greeting. “I spent $4,000 on this ceremony,” Gede Wira Apsika says, grinning confidently. “I am Balinese. I know that investing in a good melaspas will bring my club success.” Towers of star fruit and oranges and frangipani blossoms—offerings to the gods—crowd the dance floor, along with curlicued sculptures made from carved pork rinds. Incense smokes in front of a state-ofthe-art sound system. The pedanda, the high priest, arrives in a vintage black Mercedes 86 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | NOVEMBER 2013
with tinted windows. Wearing a long white robe and a black velvet crown embroidered in gold, he ascends the canopied platform erected for him in the parking lot and begins chanting. An acolyte ties a duck and a chicken to a post; their flapping and squawking will end at sundown, when the pedanda slits their throats at the climax of the ritual. Passing tourists pause to gawk as masked dancers enact ancient legends of princes, demons, and dragons, alternating with a pair of beefy drag artists and their bawdy version of a stately dance usually performed by young girls. The visitors may not realise it, but
Indonesia
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XXXXXXXXXXXX (DISCRIPTION) TREVOR MOGG/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (GIRL AT MARKET), ERICH HAEFELE/ALAMY /INDIAPICTURE (T-SHIRTS), YVETTE CARDOZO/ALAMY /INDIAPICTURE (DOGS), JAGVIR MATHAROO (LAMP AND MEDICAL MANNEQUIN), DAVID PARKER/ALAMY /INDIAPICTURE (DOLLS), KYLIE MCLAUGHLIN /LONELY PLANET IMAGES/GETTY IMAGES (TELEPHONE),IMAGE BROKER/INDIAPICTURE (WORMS), ANCHALEE/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE (BUDDHA)
WINTER SPECIAL Tech Travel
Bangkok Flashbacks
Instagramming through the retro Talad Rot Fai market BY MEENAKSHI REDDY MADHAVAN
A
Thailand
s soon as I entered Bangkok’s Talad Rot Fai, I could see that it was everything a frantic Instagramming traveller dreams of. The antiques market was full of colours and shapes that would make for that decisive photographic moment I’m always seeking.
As my companion and I strolled through the stalls of this curious market, we saw and clicked images of objects from decades gone by. An old tray was stocked with tiny figurines; a little collection of matchbooks from hotels in the 1950s lay under a glass case. We weren’t buying. In fact, no one I saw was. The whole market seemed to exist just to be photographed. Vendors sat around on stools by an open car boot and watched people stroll by. Vintage toys were ranged next to alarm clocks with massive dials— the kind my parents retired in the 1990s in favour of a digital one. A scary doll caught my eye. I photographed her face with a tilt-shift focus effect, which made her eyes gaze starkly at me, while the world around faded away.
Unlike other popular Bangkok markets, Talad Rot Fai barely had any foreign tourists when we visited. I noticed a hipster Thai youth in a fedora and skinny jeans chatting up a girl wearing a T-shirt with a catchy slogan. The front section had the atmosphere of a flea market. It’s where I bought a digital drawing of a French bulldog from an animal rights stall. We got ourselves an ice-cream cup full of bamboo worms, fried to a deep golden, and walked around, eating them like the locals do. I noticed that the Thais went straight to the rear of the market, where an old train station had been turned into a bar. The interiors had been left intact except for the addition of a few sofas, two of which we promptly appropriated. There was no menu, so we pointed our order out, and succeeded in getting a bottle of Sang Som rum with Coke, and a bucket of ice. I trained my camera on the leopard print couch that looked like a relic from a 1970s home. This section of Talad Rot Fai didn’t seem to encourage worm eaters. Obviously for the more serious collector, it had actual stores instead of open-air stalls. All the memorabilia and artefacts, from old movie cameras to little tricycles, had price tags. Next door to the market at the Kafe Retro, we found the Beatles blaring out of speakers, and an old clock with a Union Jack face, marking time. I found enough to keep my camera clicking. Avid Instagrammers will agree—you’re not really looking at an old glass Coke bottle with an eye for its beauty. You’re trying to figure out the best angle to photograph it. It’s all about quickly uploading another image and getting more “likes”. Sometimes, this means that I’ve suddenly discovered the beauty of small things. Why else would the sign for a toilet, beautifully lettered, evoke such a sense of wonder in me? But it also means that I am never seeing, only searching for the illusion of a beautiful life that I can frame and share. Photography becomes less about capturing a moment and more about creating one.
If Instagram is all about finding beauty in the banal, evoking the simplicity of an era gone by, then Talad Rot Fai was the perfect locale. It was easy—if I squinted—to imagine I was in a Bangkok where Somerset Maugham had a regular table at the Oriental, or where the backpacker favourite, Khao San Road, was still the height of trendy. There’s a charm to that. But there’s also a charm to exiting, and leaving that world where it belongs—shot with a Toaster filter with the kind of bright orange light that you’d usually try to avoid, and hashtagged appropriately. n
5 WAYS TO INSTAGRAM YOUR TRAVELS Like all good photos, set up yours before you shoot it. Food is tricky— pretty colours often seem washed out. Do street signs first, with a rushing background. Know what the filters can do. X Pro II highlights colours, Brannan washes them out. Sierra gives a pinkish tone, which is good for sunsets and landscapes. Play with a bunch before you post. Instagram isn’t the only camera editor. You can shoot with the phone’s native camera app, run it through a photo editor of your choice, and then post to Instagram. Lighting is everything. Camera flashes can add an unattractive greenish glow. Get someone to shine a torch on your subject or get up close to a candle for portraits, much better than a flash. You can also use Instagram as a way to pool travel images. If you added the hashtag #taladrotfai, and clicked on it, you’ll be able to see photographs other people have posted and get ideas and inspiration for your next picture.
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Reality changes when you view it through Instagram, the online service that allows users to use different filters to transform their images and instantly share them with friends and family. Suddenly, everything you experience takes on a slightly more glamorous hue. A hysterically funny moment can take on unimaginable poignancy when passed through the 1970 filter that adds a patina of nostalgia. The X Pro II filter removes the harsh sunlight and brings out shades of blue in my hotel pool—even if that particular turquoise-meets-sapphire isn’t actually what I was looking at.
JOURNEYS H I G H L I G H T S
128 GUJARAT
RENEWING TIES WITH FAMILY ON A ROAD TRIP AROUND GUJARAT
136 FIJI
PRESERVING CORAL REEFS AND THE BALANCE BETWEENLIVELIHOODS AND THE ENVIRONMENT
143 UGANDA
SKETCHES AND SNATCHES OF EVERYDAY LIFE IN UGANDA
GARIMA GUPTA
143
Uganda
JOURNEYS Graphic Essay
ENDURING IMPRESSIONS FROM A
MUZUNGU
SKETCHES AND SNATCHES OF EVERYDAY LIFE IN UGANDA By Garima Gupta NOVEMBER 2013 | NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA 143
JOURNEYS Graphic Essay
U
ganda isn’t a conventional choice for a vacationing Indian. The former British colony is best known for its gorilla habitats, and the brutality of its former dictator Idi Amin. But thanks to an easy visa regime, cheap airfares, and the nudging invitation of a friend, that’s where I find myself.
One of the first things I notice in the capital Kampala, are the marabou storks. Just like Indian crows, they are scavengers. The difference is that these birds are up to five feet tall. They perch, unnervingly still, on street lights and fountains, oblivious to the traffic. I wonder what Idi Amin made of their dignified disdain. One morning I stop at Owino, a massive used-clothes bazaar in Kampala. It is filled with shops selling all sorts of hypnotic prints. The market runs along the perimeter of a stadium. Everything on sale is large—from food portions to bra sizes. In cramped tin sheds, overzealous hawkers cajole me into buying used Banana Republic trousers, received from unsuspecting First World donors. Owino is like a tidal creek. Each new surge of people throws you down a different lane. I walk through mountains of shoes and clothes, soaking in the energy of the cramped area. Even though there is very little light peeking through the flimsy roofs and the supply of air is limited, the young vendors are 144 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | NOVEMBER 2013
Uganda enthusiastic about selling their wares. “Hey pretty face, Armani for your lover boy?” a girl calls out. A short walk away, the woman’s market is an explosion of bold prints and shiny fabrics. Shop fronts scream promises to straighten stubborn African hair. Some of the products on display come in quantities that are almost industrial. There are separate areas for wigs and hair extensions. The most expensive wigs, I am later told, come from Indian temples. I gaze at fabric prints that look like amoebae in water. Most of these shops are run by women who know when they see lust in another woman’s eyes. It’s pointless bargaining thereafter.
Kampala’s largest share-taxi stand is another spectacle. It is a glorious mess of hundreds of matatus or minivans with angry drivers honking mercilessly, and a smattering of adventurous tourists. Matatus are meant to seat 14, but end up carrying at least 20 people at a time. In a matatu, interesting conversations with friendly locals are inevitable. A better (albeit slightly more dangerous) way to get around Kampala is on a motorcycle taxi, known as a boda-boda. These bikes were once the best way to get to the eastern border—which is how they got their name (borderborder becoming boda-boda).
JOURNEYS Graphic Essay
I am going to Fort Portal, 320 km west of Kampala, so I make my way to the intercity bus stand. Fort Portal serves as a gateway for travellers going to the Rwenzori Mountains or Kibale National Park, famous for its chimpanzees. The snacks available along the four-hour route seemed oddly familiar. Hawkers sell fresh-offthe-pan chapats, a cross between a chapatti and a Kerala parotta. There are buckets of sambosas, samosas stuffed with beef, and a popular snack known as rolex. They are chapatti egg rolls with a twisted etymology—roll-eggs, rolex. Fort Portal is a small town, the kind whose layout you can master in a day. On stepping down from the bus, I am greeted with a loud, “How are you?” It’s a common greeting in Uganda, and is used by everyone from children to adults. If asked, it is considered impolite not to ask back. A group of school children greet me: “Muzungu (foreigner)” they say sporting huge smiles. “How are you?” “I’m fine”, I respond eagerly. “How are you?” The children stare at me for a few seconds, and then reply with an even heartier greeting “Muzungu, how are you? How are you?”. 146 NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC TRAVELLER INDIA | NOVEMBER 2013
“ Hawkers sell fresh-off-the-pan chapats, a cross between a chapatti and a Kerala parotta. There were buckets of sambosas, samosas stuffed with beef, and a popular snack known as rolex. ”
Uganda After a night in Fort Portal, I take an early boda-boda to the Bigodi swamplands. Being an avid birder, I am twittering with excitement at the thought of spotting some of the 140 bird species here, on trails run by the village community. The guides are locals trained at spotting birds, and they imitate the bird calls fluently. After finding a pair of gumboots that fit me, we are off into the swampland. Among tall papyrus reeds, my guide points out superb sunbirds, Hadada ibises, snow-crowned robin chats, black and yellow weavers, Ruppel’s glossy starlings, fire finches, and so many more. My guide hears a cry, and we carefully trudge towards it. But before I can take a good look, the bird flies away, leaving me a feather that spends the rest of the trip pinned to my hair.
“ My guide hears a cry, and we carefully trudge towards it. But before I can take a good look, the bird flies away, leaving me a feather that spends the rest of the trip pinned to my hair.”
JOURNEYS Graphic Essay While travelling in Uganda, my bus is often late by hours, I am given maps that lead to roads without signs, I get lost and then a little more lost. But I enjoy the stillness of the road in the evening, when walking alongside a giraffe or two becomes a normal affair. After a while, I don’t pop my camera out anymore. I realise how much the ground is shrinking beneath my feet
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when a funny man on the matatu I’m travelling on calls out to me, “Hey, you no go to India, marry me…” n Garima Gupta is a Mumbai-based illustrator with a fascination for birds and other things in the sky. She recently published her first graphic novel, Where Crows Are White with author Jerry Pinto.
SHORT BREAKS Himachal Pradesh
Lahaul & Spiti Kaza The Hermitage
STAY
HIMACHAL PRADESH
INDULGE YOUR INNER RECLUSE A perfect hideaway in Spiti | Text & Photographs by SHIKHA TRIPATHI
I
t takes a long time to get to The Hermitage. The guesthouse is tucked away in a village called Phukchung, in an isolated corner of the Spiti region in Himachal Pradesh. Its remoteness is a large part of the establishment’s allure. It’s truly in the middle of a very beautiful nowhere. The village of Phukchung serves a very specific purpose—offering meditative silence to its residents, especially Buddhist monks and nuns who spend their retreats here. Some have lived in their mud houses for as long as nine years, rarely stepping out. The Hermitage is a guesthouse started by Chimmet Dorje and his family, who live in this village all year round. The two-storeyed guesthouse has been built in typical Spiti style, with simple rooms, mud walls, and wooden windows. There is no mobile reception. Also missing are mirrors and all sounds, except for the pounding of the Parahio River in the valley below. What Phukchung does have is the immense beauty of towering mountains, vast stretches of river bank ideal for long walks, and acres of quiet. You can watch women harvesting peas in the fields below (visitors can volunteer to help), or sit in the wide veranda reading, sketching, or staring at the shepherds looking like tiny toys in the distance. At night, layer on the woollies and brave
the cold to watch the spectacular sky. You’ll never tire of counting the shooting stars. ACCOMMODATION The Hermitage has two floors and the balcony upstairs is as wide as the porch below. The purples and browns of the mountains change dramatically depending on your viewing point. There are seven rooms (doubles `2,550, including meals) that are bare but warm and cosy, with carpeted floors. The furnishings are frugal but each room has two brightly painted walls and an attached bathroom, a rarity (and luxury) in
Spiti. The Hermitage also has a prayer hall that visitors on a silent retreat may use. The room is insulated by double glass panels and mud walls, and was constructed for the monks who spent the winter here. Meals are served on the veranda during the day and in the cosy dining room at night. Mrs. Dorje’s home-cooked meals include delicious dal, vegetables, and unexpected accompaniments, such as mashed chilli and tomato or cucumber raita. Local dishes like gyathuk (flattened dough pellets in a thick gravy) and other foods that Spitian families eat at home are available on request. The best time to visit Spiti is summer (July-Sept), when it is briefly accessible via Manali and Rohtang Pass. Temperatures range between 12°C to 28°C at this time. However, Spiti is also accessible around the year via Kinnaur. During winter, temperatures range between -20°C and 5°C. Account for a couple of spare days in your travel plans. The roads of Spiti are legendary for landslides, and there are chances that you might face a roadblock or two, whether summer or winter. n THE VITALS
The Hermitage is located in Phukchung village, about 36 km from Kaza, the main town of Spiti. Being a remote place, walk-ins are rare and not encouraged. Since it is off the main Pin Valley road, there’s usually someone to escort visitors to The Hermitage from Kungri monastery, a landmark close by. The closest telephone facility is at the village of Mudh, 15 km away. There is an electricity connection, but power is mostly unavailable. The evenings are illuminated by lamps and candles. The guesthouse is supported by Ecosphere, an enterprise that works to provide Spiti’s residents sustainable livelihoods through tourism and other initiatives (hermitage.phukchong@ gmail.com or info@spitiecosphere. com, 94188 60099, 94182 07750, www. spitiecosphere.com).
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