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…and then you’ll be able to rememberise Varanasi

He walks in his own light, Varanasi

He walks in his own light, Varanasi

 

Sunrise ceremonies, Varanasi

Sunrise ceremonies, Varanasi

 

Cows everywhere, Varanasi

Cows everywhere, Varanasi

 

Saturday – we were advised last evening that today’s early afternoon flight west to Varanasi had been cancelled, the airline offering us an alternative at 04:30 to Delhi, several hours wait, then a flight all the way back to our intended destination. Or an airline switch that would cost 3000 Rupees (R600/£30) for the pair of us.

 

Rather than waste an entire day travelling and sitting around, we opted for the relatively small extra and landed in Varanasi mid-morning after an 05:00 wake-up call and a quick transfer to the airport.

 

International baggage allowances vary, depending on the airline. Most allow 23kg, Emirates 30kg. Both of our cases tipped at the scales at under 20kg when we flew here, but the internal airlines are on the same money-making gig you’ll encounter elsewhere and were very quick to charge us several hundred Rupees extra for our “excess baggage”. I do understand the profit motive; I’ve worked for myself for more than 30 years, but this feels much more like taking the piss because you can.

 

Rant over. For now – we’ve another flight coming up.

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

Flower market, Varanasi

Flower market, Varanasi

 

The school run, Varanasi

The school run, Varanasi

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

Kolkata had largely proved my photographic choices; small mirrorless cameras (Fuji X100T, Sony NEX-7) and 25/35/50mm lenses. I’d also packed my ancient Leica 135 f2.8 thinking I’d use it around the Taj Mahal for sunrises and sunsets. That has still to come, but given the very limited scope for long lenses so far, I’m beginning to think it would have been better to leave it at home.

 

In the main, the Fuji shines very brightly. When it hits a critical focus point, the results are as good as with the best of cameras. The autofocus isn’t that quick however and I have definitely lost some images in alleyways and poorly lit buildings that were grabbed en passant. Another second or two and some patience could have delivered a great shot.

 

The NEX-7 and it’s manual lenses remains a delight, but not for anything other than outright daylight, or situations where there is time to focus properly. Zone focus is a solution, but at ISO800 and f2.8 a daylight exposure value that delivers wonderful focus and sharpness deteriorates to f2.8 and a half second exposure in a heartbeat, as the environment changes from pavement to semi-dark alleyways and the deep gloom of open fronted shops/eating houses.

 

My new Fuji X-Pro1 and 35mm f1.4 arrives with the rest of the family in a couple of days and I’m hoping that will be a more workable solution.

 

While I’m being a bit technical, I’m using some different editing techniques on this trip. Fortunately, they’re non-destructive, so if what I’m doing doesn’t fly, I can head back to where I started.

 

The first change is the use of a 2.39:1 crop – the cinematic ratio, I’m told. I’ve tried several different ratios before, including the usual landscapers’ 2:1, but this one really works for me – especially with the scenes I’ve been shooting. Comments would be helpful…

 

Shoes off please

Shoes off please

 

Queue to enter the Golden Temple, Varanasi

Queue to enter the Golden Temple, Varanasi

 

A common sight on Varanasi's lanes

A common sight on Varanasi’s lanes

 

Sunrise ceremonies, Varanasi

Sunrise ceremonies, Varanasi

 

The Ganga at sunrise

The Ganga at sunrise

 

The Ganga at sunrise

The Ganga at sunrise

 

The second experiment is using VSCO’s plug-ins. I bought Pack 4 (essentially offering Velvia, Provia and some Kodak film emulations) and added it to the free Pack 0 which I use for Tri-X emulation. I’m really enjoying the bright and intense colours, but find it necessary to tone down some of the Velvia renditions, especially with Asian skin tones which quickly head for bright yellow. All-in-all, it’s an experiment worth trying.

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

So, Varanasi. It’s dry, dusty and much less humid than Kolkata. The traffic is as bad and the willingness to hoot at every piece of paper on the street, shadow, dog, cow, cyclist, pedestrian, or other vehicle within 50m is identical. The hotel, several notches up from Kolkata’s quaint Fairlawn has just served us a passable buffet lunch and we currently await our guide for the afternoon’s exploration.

 

Collecting us from the airport was Anil; chatterbox of note, he was keen, a mine of information and introduced us both to the concept of rememberisation; some kind of recall one has after visiting Varanasi and joining one of his tours. I hope we’ll remembers this one with great fondness.

 

Billed as the planet’s oldest city, Varanasi is known for its temples, religious activity and daily gatherings at the ghats along the Ganga (Ganges to us outlanders). Our first guided visit was to walk a bit of the city and end at the Dashaswamedh ghat – a stepped entry down into the Ganga – as darkness fell.

 

In classic Indian style, the evening ritual was celebrated with a huge crowd, seemingly made up equally of sightseers and worshippers. Bells clanged, hand organs played, tablas bonged and five orange and gold clad priests led the ceremony, chanting, singing and ringing hand bells. The crowd joined in and with the addition of clouds of incense, turned a sundown rite into a spectacular experience.

 

Sunday morning saw us with another early alarm call, this time to re-visit Dashaswamedh ghat, to climb on board a large rowing boat to see the morning bathing ritual and witness the sunrise over the Ganga. There are few words to describe the experience.

 

Off the boat, just beyond the cremation area (strictly no photographs), we walked along the various ghats, spectators at a daily ritual critical to India’s Hindu community. If last evening’s ceremony was a great experience, this was truly special – one of the great sights that make India the travel destination it is.

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

Waiting for the ceremony to begin, Varanasi

Waiting for the ceremony to begin, Varanasi

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

The Ganga at sunrise

The Ganga at sunrise

 

Sunrise witnessed and hundreds of pilgrims seen washing and purifying, we were ushered back to our hotel for a (very) late breakfast, followed by a walking tour of one of the city’s fabric factories, the Islamic market and a the lanes that differentiate this ancient city from so many others.

 

This morning (Tuesday), another early call heralded departure for Allahabad and Lucknow – in other words, a day in the car, with brief stops at Sangram, the holy confluence of three great rivers and then on to Nehru’s house in Allahabad. Photography in most of these places is forbidden and while the house is magnificently maintained, I managed only a couple of shots. The police are inches thick everywhere and I suspect falling foul of them is not advised.

 

If you’ve read Rohinton Mistry’s A fine balance, or Gregory David Roberts’ Shantaram, you’ll understand.

 

Before I turn my attentions to Lucknow, I need to say that Varanasi was truly special; the religious pilgrimages surrounded by the Ganga and a city full of ancient buildings, unique. That said, for all its history and appeal to the tourist/photographer, the city is unremittingly dirty. There are dogs and (predictably) cattle everywhere, often asleep in the middle of main roads and alleyways. Their droppings make navigating the litter- and rubble-strewn lanes and roadways almost impossible. Couple that with the unending press of humanity, motor bikes and scooters roaring past and the permanent stench of just about everything you don’t want to imagine and you’ll be well prepared if the you choose to visit.

 

Sunrise

Sunrise

 

Sanskrit University, Varanasi

Sanskrit University, Varanasi

 

The Ganga at sunrise

The Ganga at sunrise

 

Untitled, Varanasi

Untitled, Varanasi

 

Sanjiv, our day guide did a fine job of navigating us through the labyrinthine lanes and alleyways, and swatted (not literally) away the endless stream of beggars. If you’re planning to visit Varanasi and need someone to show you the real photographic sights – send me an e-mail and I’ll let you have his details.

 

Wednesday – Lucknow. Breakfast soon and then our first of two full days in the capital of Uttar Pradesh.

The Skye bit

Sunset over Cuillin seen from Elgol

Sunset over Cuillin seen from Elgol

 

Lunch was sublime, Cape Town’s best; fresh tuna carpaccio followed by spaghetti vongole for Mrs P and swordfish pasta for me. Washed down with a couple of glasses of more than acceptable local rosé and then, a quick trip to the airport.

 

If you think this looks good, you should have tasted it.

If you think this looks good, you should have tasted it.

Clam fallout

Clam fallout

 

Lunch? I’d promised Mrs P as she only leaves for the UK (to join me there) next week.

 

So, airport, book in, customs, security, immigration all dealt with in moments and now I’m lolling dozily in the airline’s lounge.

 

Here we all are; me with a complimentary scotch, the uncomfortable German businessman, thick fingers jabbing his phone’s tiny keys. He will become an enemy before I leave, but more of that later.

 

A loud American that can’t access the wi-fi (nothing new there, this is South Africa after all).

 

An English woman, cell-phone-bellowing at endless friends and members of her family. The phone is redundant; her blare is loud enough without, her endless sentence-end laughs intrusive and wildly excessive.

 

Hoodie-clad Ms Two Tennis racquets stares vacantly, seeking who-knows-what.

 

Golf on a TV that no-one is watching. African talking heads on the other, also unwatched. Load shedding Stage 2. No-one cares any more – our venal and mendacious government has poked the economy in the eye and doesn’t have the first clue how to remedy a tumbling growth rate and 37% unemployment.

 

A raddled housewife, weary looking husband and two excited kids; coming or going? “I’m eating all this now so I won’t get hungry later on the aerwoplane” says male junior. Mum resorts to her phone to force hubby to attend to his brood. No chance. He’s got chips and a big fat drink.

 

Daddy, how long?” they squawk endlessly.

 

Gwmph.” Translation; “Fuck. I don’t know and care even less. Leave me alone for two minutes.

 

Daddy, I also need to go to the bathroom.” Daddy sighs, stands up, his phone falling from his lap where he was discretely checking e-mails. Everywhere, there’s a distinct air of resignation and we’re not on board yet.

 

There’s two seats” says a clearly retired hubby, already weary of air travel. “There’s no table. There’s no table. There’s no table” replies clockwork wife, used to getting her own way. Hubby stands owlishly… seconds staring at her retreating back. I imagine (as I think he does), plunging a knife into her and putting an end to her anger-making, syllable emphasising hand flapping, as she complains. Stab! Now STFU!

 

They’re all on the plane and I am glad of (for once) a couple of decent movies and an early night. It’s that or people who insist on carrying on high decibel conversations, screeching children, or the whining passengers for whom nothing is ever right.

 

Skye

Skye

 

In nine hours or so, the plane will land in Dubai and scratchy-eyed, we will deplane, to sit and wait for connecting flights to all corners of the globe. It’s a great hub and spoke system if you can deal with it.

 

With your body clock at single digit a.m. hours, you need to have managed to keep a bit of the hooligan about you as you aged – not being afraid of pre-breakfast alcohol and social interaction at the bar are essential. If you can’t, then sleep is the only option in an uncomfortable seat miles from your gate (it’s usually the only one available), the thousand yard, broken sleep stare and just about every language, food aroma and offensive personal habit imaginable. Just try to blast through the porridge that is where your brain used to be, long enough before you doze off to remember to set the alarm on your phone – otherwise, you’ll slumber on serenely and miss the bloody plane.

 

Oh joy.

 

My connecting flight leaves at sometime after 05:00, arriving in Glasgow at half past midday, after several hours flying time and an additional three hours of time difference. Then it’s find the car hire desk, get the (already booked) car and drive to Mallaig, in order to catch the last ferry of the day to Skye. Mr Google says it’ll take three and a half hours, I hope he’s right, or I’ll have wasted a ferry ticket and will have to drive an additional hundred miles to reach my hotel and catch up with Bob, my photographic companion for the next few days.

 

The German businessman? Minutes before leaving for the gate, I use “the facilities”, returning to find the last decent gulp of my most enjoyable drink is now awash with the detritus that collects on any lounge table; sweetie wrappers, a torn up voucher and a couple of tea spoons.

 

“Oh. Sorry. I thought you had left.”

 

“Sure you did, that’s why my luggage is still here and my computer is still on the table.”

 

What a bell end.

 

Neist Point and lighthouse

Neist Point and lighthouse

 

Later…

 

Tired. Simple word, complicated outcome. My photo buddy Bob and I have driven, walked, scrambled and clambered much of Skye this last few days. At six and a bit decades, I’ve done well, but am now done in and planning a celebratory early night It’s almost half past nine after all(!) – and still light outside.

 

It’s also driech – overcast, moody and drizzing. Typical Scotland but not great for stunning sunrises and sunsets. Still, we’ve had a chance to catch up, grumble about our various Gear Acquisition Syndrome (GAS) afflictions and on occasion, head to out harm some otherwise defenceless pixels.

 

Looking towards Ramasaig

Looking towards Ramasaig

 

Last evening (Sunday) saw us scrambling over the boulders at Elgol, to catch a spectacular sunset scene over the Cuilin mountains. It was well below 10C and way past ten before the sun obliged and set behind the mountain and much later still before we gave up for the night.

 

Then on the drive back to the hotel I managed to spot an interesting roadside scene, making us another half hour later arriving back at the hotel and a warming nippie sweetie (or two).

 

Reeds in deep dusk

Reeds in deep dusk

 

It’s been great. I now know my way around Skye a bit better thanks to Bob and also have a new avatar – my back again, I’m afraid.

 

Tomorrow, I leave for the beautifully named St John’s Town of Dalry and an overnight with Messrs Leeming and Patterson, photographers of the parish. Then it’s ever south- (and west-) wards to Pembrokeshire and a night with great mate, Steve at his home – Treffynnon – nestled in the hills high above Newport.

 

Thursday, it’s on to London and at sparrow’s on Friday morning, Heathrow to collect Mrs P.

 

Meanwhile, I decide to sit in the hotel lounge where the Internet reception is marginally better than the messenger with a forked stick I’ve had in my room. I’m sharing this quiet space with four Americans who, like me are waiting for the office to open to pay our bills, then grab some breakfast. My car is packed; I’m due at the Armadale ferry terminal at about 09:30 and en route, I’m planning to stop at a spot I noticed yesterday and phot for a few minutes.

 

Misty morning reeds

Misty morning reeds

 

A few minutes peace and quiet to close off a wonderful few days…

 

Grey haired Mrs American no.1 has other ideas and decides it would be a good time to fire up her iPad to listen to some voice mail from a clearly demented friend, or CNN (I don’t know, nor care which) at earsplitting volume.

 

In fact, it’s so loud that when I said “Could you please turn that down?” she couldn’t hear me and had to be elbowed in the ribs by her partner/husband. He’s obviously used to dealing with such blithe and arrogant rudeness.

 

Misty morning reeds

Misty morning reeds

Bar, Golden Gai

Tokyo wind-up

 

 

Welsh onions

“Welsh onions” – Shinjuku

 

Not that you’ve necessarily been gagging to hear, but Tokyo was fantastic – easily one of the most interesting and worth visiting cities we’ve seen to date. If it wasn’t so far, we’d have booked a return visit already, perhaps supplanting our long-time favourite, Singapore.

 

The delay in writing has been the result of flu. Both of us were poleaxed by it last weekend, 36 hours before heading for home. Individually, Di succumbed first, with me about 18 hours behind her.

 

Between bouts of sleeping, we sat in our hermetically sealed, air conditioned hotel room and did nothing other than mope and yet more sleep. By Sunday morning, it was clear that the walk back to the bus terminus at Shinjuku station that we’d done on arrival, was now way beyond our abilities and a taxi ordered to get us to the bus stop, bus and airport.

 

Fortunately, the next hurdle; the bus to Narita went off like silicone. Made all the better by getting a sizeable pensioners’ discount. Check in, immigration and the security formalities came next, the pair of us like zombies, just wanting to get on the plane and sleep (more).

 

Twelve hours to Dubai, three hours wait for our Cape Town connection – sounds like a drug deal – not – and another nine hours in the air, saw us arriving on time with just the baggage, customs and drive home left to endure.

 

Asakusa shrine

Asakusa shrine

 

That was Monday. I’m writing this eleven days later, both of us are finally past the worst – still largely incapable of any kind of enthusiasm, exercise or appetite. Independently, we’ve both been out during the intervening week and a half, both arrived home exhausted, ready for little more than to sit and stare at the ocean outside.

 

On Monday, we both agreed that if we didn’t go out and get some shopping, we’d starve. So, we did a big pre-Xmas shop, the fridge is full to bursting and all we need (apart from our kids to show up and surprise us) is the energy to eat and drink it all.

 

Morning, Shinjuku

Morning, Shinjuku

 

Rewind.

 

I’m not sure if we’d ever have gone to Tokyo if Emirates hadn’t written to me a couple of months ago, offering a whole e-mail full of bargain-priced flights to just about everywhere. Having recently returned from Laura’s wedding, we weren’t much interested, that was until I followed the link in the e-mail and found yet more budget city flights.

 

“How would you like to go to Tokyo as a kind of joint Christmas present?”

 

Moments later, the booking was made, hotel reservation done and the anticipation started.

 

Outbound, we flew to Dubai and then on to Tokyo’s Narita. It was smooth, easy and on arrival, we opted for the Airport Limousine (a bus), which dropped us at Shinjuku Station – about 800m from our hotel.

 

Street scene, Tsukiji Market

Street scene, Tsukiji Market

 

Checked-in, baggage dumped in our room and in seconds, we were out on the streets of Shinjuku to explore and find something to eat. We found the latter in a yakitori – chicken grilled on tiny skewers over a charcoal fire – bar (izakaya) about 250m up the street from the hotel, pretty much the first place we tried.

 

Fed and watered, I paid, expecting a massive bill – this is Tokyo after all – and was very pleasantly surprised. For lots of yakitori, a couple of side dishes and beer/wine, I got a bill for a bit less than R300.

 

That set the pace for the rest of the trip.

 

Autumn trees, Yoyogi Park

Autumn trees, Yoyogi Park

 

Our travel days easily fall into a new city routine; I wake early and go out to photograph, Mrs P sleeps. I’m usually back around 07:30, we deal with the daily ablutions and head for a good breakfast.

 

The Best Western we were staying in fitted that need perfectly, with both European and Japanese buffets. Grilled mackerel, deep fried chicken and rice porridge for breakfast was a novel experience and begged to be tried. Other days, toast, marmalade or a couple of boiled eggs held a bit more appeal.

 

Usually, by around 10:30 we’re ready to depart, having agreed a destination for the day. Shinjuku is huge and it’s only a matter of minutes into Yoyogi, Harajuku (the Carnaby Street of Tokyo) and various nearby suburbs. Other days, we braved the Metro for Shibuya and it’s famous scramble crossing, Ueno, Ginza and the Imperial Palace.

 

Grown up fishing, Shinjuku

Grown up fishing, Shinjuku

 

Ginza

Ginza

 

Fortunately, we’d finished our must-see list as the flu struck. We still missed returning to a couple of places that just cried out for more time and exploration. For every one of the twelve days we spent in the city, we ate in bars, restaurants, izakaya, markets and street stalls. What we ate was often a bit of a mystery – most Tokyo-ites will attempt English, but ordering food can be a lottery. We ate what we got irrespective. In the main it was fantastic.

 

Tsukiji Market

Tsukiji Market

 

Tsukiji Market

Tsukiji Market

 

I bought some kitchen knives in the the Fish Market at Tsukijki – there are hundreds of stalls selling sea food of a bewildering variety and shoehorned between their stalls, a vast variety of cutlers, offering knives for just about every occasion. That was after a street stall don lunch – a bowl (don) half filled with rice, topped with a variety of raw sea foods (mainly tuna), gari (pickled ginger) wasabi and soy sauce. It might have been chilly sitting out on the pavement, but the food was fab.

 

Getting around the city is pretty straightforward. That said, the Metro map was a complete mystery, until unravelling it to get to the Imperial Palace became a motivation. In sum; the station you are in lies at the centre of the map and the place your wish to get to (when you finally find it amongst the coloured lines) is shown with a number on it.

 

That is the fare in ¥ (yen), usually between 170 and 330, depending on distance.

 

Use the ticket machine, press the English button (you’ll only need to do this once as the process is actually, very simple), select two people and the fare, chosen from the map above. Ticket machines accept anything up to ¥10000 (R1000) notes and give change in notes where appropriate, instead of a million small coins. Along with your change, two tickets pop out of he slot. You’re now good to go.

 

The Tokyo Metro goes just about everywhere and the odd station it doesn’t serve, is accessible on the JR Yamanote line, a Japanese version of London Underground’s Circle Line.

 

Shinjuku skyline

Shinjuku skyline

 

And, that’s about it. Tokyo is a fanastic, exciting city and now, we’ve recovered somewhat are already planning a return to see Spring in the city in 2016.

 

One final note; our pre-departure research told us that the Japanese are not great credit card users and so, I drew a not particularly large sum of Yen to tide us over on arrival. It was planned to cover the first few days travel, sightseeing and meals until we figured out how to draw more cash. As it turned out, ATMs are readily available in the many 7/11 stores around the city, so we needn’t have been so concerned.

 

Better still, instead of lasting a day or so in what we expected to be a frighteningly expensive city, our cash lasted almost ten days – providing you don’t plan to eat and drink in top-end of restaurants and bars, Tokyo is no more expensive than Cape Town.

 

That was a surprise.

 

Tokyo night

Tokyo night

 

Tradition

Tradition

Unexpected find

Tokyo in colour pt. 1

 

After last evening’s post, I got a note from a reader asking why such a colourful city was being shown in black and white.

 

Answer; right now, that’s what I am focussing on. I’m not forgetting the colour – I’m keeping most of those for the InSight: Tokyo guide that will be published shortly.

 

So as not to disappoint though, here’s some Tokyo colour.

 

Red light Shinjuku

Red light Shinjuku

Shinjuku street morning

Shinjuku street morning

Shinjuku sunrise

Shinjuku sunrise

Flatiron Uedo style

Flatiron Uedo style

Shinjuku Gyoen National Park

Shinjuku Gyoen National Park

Shinjuku shrine

Shinjuku shrine

Restaurant lantern

Restaurant lantern

Shinjuku street scene

Tokyo in black and white pt. 1

 

A week in Tokyo with a new camera – there’s lots to see, plenty to do and an entire world of interesting food to eat.

 

I’m hoping to get to the food posting shortly, but we only have three days left before the great trek back to Cape Town, so we’re making the best of it. In the meantime, enjoy this small sample of the images I’m bringing back with me.

 

More soon. Promise.

 

Level crossing, Yoyogi

Level crossing, Yoyogi

 

Meiji Temple

Meiji Temple

 

Yoyogi bar

Yoyogi bar

 

Yoyogi bar

Yoyogi bar

 

Shinjuku street scene

Shinjuku street scene

 

Didn't make it home

Didn’t make it home

 

Well fed, tired in Shinjuku

Well fed, tired in Shinjuku