Smacked by a jet liner

Another day in the manic Indian traffic. Initially we thought that the last 600km would be the wild coast of India and that the population would thin out. It’s exactly the opposite its village upon village that have fused together. Here is hardly an open space amongst the massive palm groves that cover every inch of soil. The road situation has become worse; there is no longer a shoulder to run on. In order to try and cope with the mass of traffic, the shoulder has been used as road. This has made running a real danger as every minute you feel the swoosh of air as a truck or bus passes by and each step one just hopes that you are not going to get hit. I have had about 20 brushes with vehicles so far, but have managed to stay on my feet as they just speed off into the distance and leave you stumbling along and just praying that you don’t fall and get swatted by the next car right behind you.

The fisher folk of Kovollan

This is a small village just to the west of Kanyakumari. Its vibrant and colourful and reminds me of the little village up the west coast of South Africa called Patternoster Chatting to a local school teacher here, he said that the history of this area goes back to 400bc, a deeply catholic community with mother Mary as their patron. The coastal belt is dotted with massive churches and a huge cathedral in the centre of Kanyakuamri.

Burn out

The crew had set up camp on a stretch of beach, this was one of our first opportunities to sleep in such a beautiful surrounding. The ocean lapping in front of us and behind us we were shaded by dense palm groves. The best about the camp was that it was a desolate piece of coastline, just a little village a few km away, for the rest it was just us and nature.
The dusk was drawing closer, the evening on shore breeze had picked up, providing the fishermen with their natural power to sail home with their days catch. We were just settling down for our evening meal. Our tents were up and we ready to bid the day fare well. I stretched back and just absorbed the beauty around me. Twisting my tired sore feet into the cold sand, stretching my body back releasing the stiffness and pain in my mussels as I slowly wound down after the days run and my body began let the tiredness slowly switch off my mind and invite in the sleep.

Bombay

Call it Mumbai or Bombay; it’s a city that has no time to sleep. A massive mega city, some was planned and build , but the rest just evolved, sprawling over about 70km of islands and mangrove swamp. It has a population of 22 million but was only build to sustain a population of about 4 million. It expansion has been so rapid, that it has been impossible for the building of the infrastructure to keep up. If you want to get anywhere in the day you have to leave by 7-30 in the morning as by 10 the city has hit near gridlock and to travel a mere 30 km could take 4 hours. A city with mega slums which have been build in layers, one community above the other. These are home to some of India’s poorest people, but they are also neighbours to some of the richest. There is also a population of street people who have no home, but live from morning to night on the street, eating, sleeping and foraging off it. There is also a unique population of cattle who have never in their lives grazed in an open field, but live of the streets, fed by the inhabitants of the city.

Goa. The happening spot.

This is India’s equivalent of Mauritius except there is no French influence; this area has the architectural and culinary tastes of Portugal. A small province nestled in palm groves, interleafed with rice paddies and rolling hills of natural jungle. Small bays are fed by massive river estuaries. Little fishing villages are dotted all along the coastline. Goa has a vibe that is found no where else in India. Rave and dance are a huge part of the culture here as well as the birth of the new rave/dance crazy that is about to hit the rest of the globe, “Sunburn” the newest thing in high tech party.