Yesterday made all the effort of dragging a bicycle to India worth it in a single ride. I got lost (several times), had a mechanical breakdown, climbed hills, made about 2,000 temporary friends, climbed a mountain (on foot), and made it home alive to tell the tale. Heck, I even finally managed to get 7 contiguous hours of sleep - though they started at 7pm. And yes - I took lots of pictures.
The first thing I learned yesterday: Never ask an Indian for directions - and especially don't ask him to show you your location on a map. He will not know. I started the day by asking the guest house staff to show where, exactly, on Rd. 12 our hotel was located. I asked this question while pointing to Rd. 12 on the map. In the ensuing discussion, which involved absolutely every member of the staff (none of whom actually speak english, conveniently), it became abundantly clear that they couldn't even find Rd 12. on the map, despite my pointing to it and running my finger along its length, repeatedly. I eventually managed to get directions from them that were to point me toward downtown. Now, you'd think folks that live here might know how to get to the center of town, but it turns out that they pointed straight out of town, exactly the opposite direction from where I wanted to go. Of course, I had no way to know this, and on my 70km ride yesterday, I encountered not a single road sign, so it was only blind luck that trying to follow the turns indicated on my map while traveling the wrong way brought me, eventually, to a turn that looked just like the turn that leads to my office. I took a chance and made the turn and finally found myself in familiar territory. I stopped in for some Diet Coke (they've laid on a stash, just for me) and some water and then called the General Manager of the company for directions. He got me pointed the right way and I figured I'd let the map do the talking from there.
The Golkonda Fort dates from the mid-12th century and is located about 11km west of the city - if you don't get lost on the way. I knew where I wanted to go, and I knew where I was coming from. You'd think those two facts would be about enough to get me there, but you'd be wrong. I had to navigate about 10km of city traffic before I was pointed west out of town. Riding in traffic in this town is pretty exhilarating. If you've ever made a high speed run down Sunset or Hollywood Blvds during rush hour, splitting lanes and dodging traffic - it's nothing like that at all. Cars in LA stay in orderly lines in marked lanes. There are no lanes in Hyderabad. Neither are there rules of the road. If there is a space, someone will fill it. If that means riding on the wrong side of the street, well, then so be it. Fortunately, traffic isn't enormously fast. It'd be terrifying to have all those motorcycles and cars swerving past with a big speed differential. Fortunately, until I was quite a ways out of town, I wasn't any slower than the powered vehicles around me. This inevitably led to a constant stream of conversations with passing motorists. Motorcyclists would pull up next to me to compliment my bike. Autocab drivers would lean out of their cabs to ask where I was from. Little kids would smile and point from the back seat while their dads investigated the nutjob westerner on a bike. And it was abundantly clear that everyone here thinks I'm at least a little nuts. In one conversation later in the day, I was asked "why do you ride a bicycle." My usual response - "because it's fun" was met only with an incredulous stare and a repeat of "but, why?" I had no better explanation, so went round in circles on that point for a bit before he dismissed me with a wave of his hand and sped up to leave me behind.
This is the guy. I wonder what he's protecting with that helmet.
But most folks were at least a little impressed, even while they expressed their doubts. Much later in the day, on my way home, I collected something of an entourage of curious motorcyclists who stayed with me for several kilometers as we all got stuck in traffic together. There's a picture that makes the rounds of the motorcycling sites on the 'net every once in a while - of a family of 3 riding a motorcycle with the small child wedged between the parents. That sight isn't even remotely rare, here. I've seen 4 adult males riding a single scooter together and I've seen a family of 5 - one kid on the tank, then dad driving, then a kid sandwiched between dad and mom, who was riding sidesaddle with the third kid in her lap. I wish I'd been faster with my camera, but it was in my pocket. I didn't get in the habit of riding with it hanging off my wrist until later in the day. But tha's India in a nutshell. 5 people on a motorcycle is normal, but one white guy on a folding bike is cause for incredulity.
Traffic (and the corresponding fumes) thinned out as I got pointed out of town.
I failed to even recognize this as a shanty village, initially. I truly thought it was a large pile of trash. But those are 'homes,' right there on the side of the road.
On the map, my route out of town to the Golkonda fort seemed very straightforward once I was out of town. THe only turn was marked as a major intersection that I was sure I couldn't possibly miss. One thing that I've found quite strange about riding here is that I seem to have a speed and stamina that I have not previously had in LA. I don't know if it is just the exhilaration of being in India or if its the vitamins or malaria drugs or something, but I'm definitely riding at a level I haven't been at for months. I was riding right at the hottest, sunniest part of the day and unlike town, there was little shade to offer relief from the heat. Sweat evaporates so quickly, you don't even get wet, and it does a surprisingly good job of making you feel cool, but that lack of obvious perspiration makes it all too easy to fail to hydrate. I was riding with a camelback, so had ready access to water, but wasn't drinking it the way I should have been. After climbing a long hill for at least 20km (I didn't know it was only 11km to the fort until I checked the wikipedia entry while writing this), I reached a town and asked a policeman how to get to Golkonda fort. I was met with an ominous shrug. I stood staring at my map long enough that a taxi driver eventually wandered over to ask what I was looking for. He told me I had missed my turn at least 10km back - back down a long hill. It was about this point where I noticed that my legs were feeling a little rubbery. I started taking long pulls on my camelback while I coasted back down the hill, and by the time I was halfway down, was starting to feel better.
About this time, an autocab with about 6 men in their 20s pulled up to have a chat. I wanted to confirm with them that I was still pointed at Golkonda, and they told me I needed to turn around and go back up the hill. The look on my face probably said a lot, and my complaints that the folks at the top of the hill just sent me back down it caused them to re-think, and within a couple of minutes, they decided they were wrong and they knew how to get there. Even better, they said they'd drive slow and show me the way. I went them one better and grabbed the side of the autocab - conveniently covered with easy handholds, and they pulled me all the way to my turn. That 'major intersection' proved to be little more than an alley off the main road, so it was little wonder I missed it earlier. It was further disguised by active construction. Construction which, not surprisingly, does not halt just because there are people traveling through the alley. As I passed through, a bulldozer casually lifted a load of rocks right over my head without even a second thought - on the driver's part anyway. I had a whole bunch of thoughts - my whole life passing in front of my eyes, really.
It wasn't long before I found myself wandering through smaller towns. Bicycles became a little more prevalent - almost always being ridden by small boys.
How did the English decide that dressing small boys in pure white for sports and school uniforms was a good idea? I'm not sure if this was his school uniform or just a cricket uniform. It could be either.
He raced me for a while and I let him think he was doing all right for a kilometer or so before passing him on a hill and snapping this parting shot.
It wasn't too much farther before I found myself in front of the Qutb Shahi Tombs. These are 11 tombs of 16th and 17th century rulers of this part of southern India and some of their wives. They are beautiful, if slightly ruined, structures in a very lush park. It isn't exactly well maintained, but doesn't require bushwhacking, either.
I wasn't the only one to visit the tombs by bicycle
I picked up a 'guide' almost as soon as I passed through the gate, and he wouldn't really take no for an answer. I really couldn't understand a word he was saying, but that didn't stop him from rambling on endlessly rather than letting me enjoy the solitude of the place.
It was very quiet. The air was fresh. There was abundant shade.
The tombs are in pretty good shape, considering that they don't really look like they are maintained.
Note the bushes growing out of the dome.
This one isn't falling down. It was never finished. I guess the last king moved to another state at the end of his reign, or something like that. Like I said, I couldn't understand a word my guide said, really.
Each tomb is different, externally, but pretty much identical inside, other than ceiling details.
I highly recommend that anyone planning to ride in India invest in a pair of clipless compatible sandals. You'll be entering a lot of muslim and hindu holy places, and the remove and reinstall process on regular cycling shoes gets old pretty quickly.
I had to remove my shoes before entering each tomb. Needless to say, I didn't wind up checking them all out.
Not all of the tombs expose the interior of the dome. Those that do have an unbelievable echo. I timed it at about a 12 second decay in one of them. Geez, I'm a nerd.
All of the tombs are basically the same inside. They've all got a marker like this. I'm told those are a single piece of stone. There is no joint between the steps. Also, the shape is apparently identical on the underside, going down into the ground.
They are actually covered with a green cloth and flower petals, but my guide didn't hesitate to roll the cloth back to show me.
I did find msyelf wishing for my SLR camera quite a bit, though I don't think my shoulder would have been terribly happy schlepping it all over india in my courier bag. But my digital point-n-shoot doesn't give me the control I'd like, not that there's much to be done when the sun is this bright and striaght up over my head. Contrast? What contrast?
This was a random group of indian tourists who introduced themselves to me and insisted I take their photo for them. WIth my camera. When I pointed out that I'd have the photo, their leader (pink shirt) said "you can send it to us." When I asked for his address, he wrote out an actual postal address. India really is a 3rd world country. People apparently still use physical mail here!
I'm reasonably certain these are husband and wife tombs. There was a baby tomb, too, though I don't have a picture. It had a little tiny stone monument.
This tomb had a cloister - of sorts.
I don't know the story of this one, but you could access a variety of hidden catacombs and rooms in it. It also had the prettiest surroundings. There were families picnicing here and some kids knocking a cricket ball around in the garden.
It also had the interior of the dome exposed. This was the 12 second echo.
This is the view of the Golkonda fort from the tombs. I took one look at that and my only thought was that I was gonna have to ride up that thing!
Your truly. The smile is fake. I was really thinking about climbing up to the fort (actually, it just took him ages to take the damn thing). What isn't clear from the picture is that the tombs are on the top of a hill, too. I was going to have to descend to the base of that hill behind me.
Still not done. Just publishing because I've caught up with my photo upload. I've only got about 10KB/sec of upload bandwidth, so each picture takes 10 minutes or more to upload. I've finally caught up with the upload process that I kicked off a number of hours ago.
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