We are on a narrow, windy , two lane tarmacked road trundeling towards Bandhavgarh National Park, supposedly to see tigers, but we all know the likelihood is slim. For as far as you can see, the countryside on either side of us is yellow-brown-sandy-parched fields separated in places by stone walls like the walls in Scotland and the Cornish Hedges or in other places by mounds of earth, or by scrappy trees. Its 9:30 in the morning and we have been driving for an hour. The road is quiet. We pass the occasional scooter, and going in the opposite direction, buses overloaded with people sitting 3 and 4 to a 2-person seat, and standing in the aisles squished together like sardines in a can; scooters - the eternal scooter is the mainstay of Indian transportation; sometimes SUVs with people hanging out the open or missing doors. Some small cars pass too, and the lorries are omniprescent. Yesterday we saw two lorries toppled over by the side of the road their contents spewed over the surrounding ground.
We pass little one roomed red-fired-brick houses, sometimes plastered and whitewashed, with terra cotta tiled rooves and some with walled courtyards containing goats, cows and hens.
As we enter a town, the road becomes more active. A group of cyclists carrying aluminium jugs, a cow ambling towards us at the side of the road. Another bicycle carrying 4 huge sacks of what looks like hay; women in colourful saris balancing their load of produce on their heads. The road closes in ahead with the mass of people. Small 5 x 7 stalls line the sides. Cars and bikes, stop higglety pigglety and our driver swerves to avoid them. Suddenly it is chaotic. A full bus passes the opposite way and people hang out the window waving and shouting "hello" to us. Shopkeepers rest on chairs and steps of their shops, or lie on the wooden hammock like beds, some under awnings to protect them from the sun. A couple of oxen turn to face us. Goats trot around the people, the bikes and all the goods. Ponies and cows wander free and feed on the garbage piles. People sweep the dirt in front of their stores and burn the rubbish. The smell is like acid in your lungs. It is said that the cows stomachs are full of plastic, about 85 km of it! Gracious goodness, now there is an elephant in front of the Truck. We can't go forward, there is a lorry on the other side of the narrow street. The elephant turns towards us. It is huge. Ray and I are in the front seat and Ray gets a picture of it rolling its trunk up the bonnet. Neat trick. Our driver gives the elephant handler some rupees and he pummels his feet against the elephant's ears and the elephant moves on.
Now we are through the village and the road is lined with slim 50 feet high trees, some are black trunked and asparagus like leaves, others are brown trunked leafy trees. No idea what they are.
We have come upon a truck. On the rear end it says "Blow Horn Please". Despite the government's efforts to reduce noise lorry drivers enhance it. A horn blasts behind us surprisingly loud for the small scooter that passes. We blast our air horn at the lorry and overtake. A little further along our driver frantically blasts his horn at a tractor whose driver is blatantly turned around and staring at us thus turning the tractor directly into our path.
Again our driver brakes: 7 cows are idly crossing the road. One menacingly turns its horns towards us until realizes our size and backs away; we inch past. Further on we pass two people on a scooter with the passenger holding on to two goats whose heads are sticking out one on either side of the scotter. It looks funny.
We turn onto a pretty, narrow, windy, one-lane road. A group of people wave at us their faces lit up with joy at seeing us. We feel like royalty. It seems Indians are crazy for the sight of white people and the few moments of foreign camraderie and difference it brings to their local lives. Ebony black water buffalo lie submerged in a small water hole keeping cool in the 40C temperature. Women pull water from a well. A tractor pulling a wagon load of people.
Late afternoon we pulled into Bandhavgarh National Park and the White Tiger Forest Lodge where we set up camp for 2 nights. An upgrade to rooms was about 2700 rupees - way too much and not enough value.
We had a lovely swim in the pool and chatted with 6 Indians aged 29 to 37 who are away on a "bachelors' weekend". One was a publisher for the India Law Reports, another an architect, a third a computer engineer. This gave us an opportunity to see India through the eyes of young business men and it left a very positive image of change advancement, and potential opportunity.
Ray was feeling really unwell. "Indian tummy" I think our Indian friend Robin calls it, and went straight to bed before dinner. I had the buffet, not very good food, then bed in our cozy tent.
We pass little one roomed red-fired-brick houses, sometimes plastered and whitewashed, with terra cotta tiled rooves and some with walled courtyards containing goats, cows and hens.
As we enter a town, the road becomes more active. A group of cyclists carrying aluminium jugs, a cow ambling towards us at the side of the road. Another bicycle carrying 4 huge sacks of what looks like hay; women in colourful saris balancing their load of produce on their heads. The road closes in ahead with the mass of people. Small 5 x 7 stalls line the sides. Cars and bikes, stop higglety pigglety and our driver swerves to avoid them. Suddenly it is chaotic. A full bus passes the opposite way and people hang out the window waving and shouting "hello" to us. Shopkeepers rest on chairs and steps of their shops, or lie on the wooden hammock like beds, some under awnings to protect them from the sun. A couple of oxen turn to face us. Goats trot around the people, the bikes and all the goods. Ponies and cows wander free and feed on the garbage piles. People sweep the dirt in front of their stores and burn the rubbish. The smell is like acid in your lungs. It is said that the cows stomachs are full of plastic, about 85 km of it! Gracious goodness, now there is an elephant in front of the Truck. We can't go forward, there is a lorry on the other side of the narrow street. The elephant turns towards us. It is huge. Ray and I are in the front seat and Ray gets a picture of it rolling its trunk up the bonnet. Neat trick. Our driver gives the elephant handler some rupees and he pummels his feet against the elephant's ears and the elephant moves on.
Now we are through the village and the road is lined with slim 50 feet high trees, some are black trunked and asparagus like leaves, others are brown trunked leafy trees. No idea what they are.
We have come upon a truck. On the rear end it says "Blow Horn Please". Despite the government's efforts to reduce noise lorry drivers enhance it. A horn blasts behind us surprisingly loud for the small scooter that passes. We blast our air horn at the lorry and overtake. A little further along our driver frantically blasts his horn at a tractor whose driver is blatantly turned around and staring at us thus turning the tractor directly into our path.
Again our driver brakes: 7 cows are idly crossing the road. One menacingly turns its horns towards us until realizes our size and backs away; we inch past. Further on we pass two people on a scooter with the passenger holding on to two goats whose heads are sticking out one on either side of the scotter. It looks funny.
We turn onto a pretty, narrow, windy, one-lane road. A group of people wave at us their faces lit up with joy at seeing us. We feel like royalty. It seems Indians are crazy for the sight of white people and the few moments of foreign camraderie and difference it brings to their local lives. Ebony black water buffalo lie submerged in a small water hole keeping cool in the 40C temperature. Women pull water from a well. A tractor pulling a wagon load of people.
Late afternoon we pulled into Bandhavgarh National Park and the White Tiger Forest Lodge where we set up camp for 2 nights. An upgrade to rooms was about 2700 rupees - way too much and not enough value.
We had a lovely swim in the pool and chatted with 6 Indians aged 29 to 37 who are away on a "bachelors' weekend". One was a publisher for the India Law Reports, another an architect, a third a computer engineer. This gave us an opportunity to see India through the eyes of young business men and it left a very positive image of change advancement, and potential opportunity.
Ray was feeling really unwell. "Indian tummy" I think our Indian friend Robin calls it, and went straight to bed before dinner. I had the buffet, not very good food, then bed in our cozy tent.
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