2013 Travel Calendar

The irony of 2013 – I always imagined that being self-employed would give me a lot of time to travel, but, reality was that it left me with neither time nor money. In a flash of brilliance, I planned a few trips around a timeshare membership which had been lying unused for aeons. This was my saviour for the year, as it allowed me to enjoy a few vacations without pinching my pocket.  

The other defining characteristics of this year’s holidays - most were road-trips, some were work-related travel and one was so spontaneous that I’m still surprised I went. My trusty 9-year old car was a constant companion for more than 35 days on the road this year.  

I can’t be sure what the rest of 2014 has in store for me, but, I’m beginning the new year with a much-awaited trip; yet another road-trip. From being a paranoid road-traveller, I’m discovering how having the right company on a road-trip can make it my favourite way of travelling; hands-down.

Karnataka & Goa road-trip

18 days and 2300 kms - I enjoyed my first-ever road-trip so much that it set the tone for the other holidays this year. Restricting my travel to a section of coastal and North-west Karnataka, 18 days gave me enough time to soak-in the flavour of the region. Of course, with Goa being just a hop-skip-jump away, we couldn’t resist a few days in South Goa before returning to Karnataka. 

A sneak peek at my myriad experiences in Karnataka, which I now call home:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2013/02/january-on-wheels.html

Other stories from this trip:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2014/05/juggling-identities.html

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2014/11/kambala-race-of-titans.html

For planning your trip, read the trip log here:

http://nomadandabag-guides.blogspot.com/2014/04/karnataka-road-trip-trip-log.html

Bhadra

I’d visited Bhadra for the first time as a part of my Karnataka road-trip. When some work took me back there, I was only too happy to go. Though working meant that I could not go on any safaris, I enjoyed every minute of spending time by the water, surrounded by the raucous calls of hundreds of River Terns nesting and hatching. 

Read about Bhadra here:   

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2013/10/bhadra-still-water-still-mind.html

Chasing the monsoon

A friend was on assignment in South Kerala, awaiting the onset of the South-west monsoon. One particularly tedious day at work, the photographs she kept sharing with a bunch of us led to furious planning during the lunch break. Tatkal tickets and a quickly-packed bag of monsoon gear in hand, two of us set off to join her, without a return ticket; the most whimsical I’ve ever been. The next five days were spent chasing the monsoon; rather, chasing the chaser of the monsoon. This impromptu trip has given me one of my most memorable experiences - watching the monsoon wall move towards land whilst standing on a deserted fishing beach, soon being smacked on the face by piercing rain and uninhibitedly jumping and screaming in the ensuing storm, soaked to the gills. 

Read about some of my other monsoon experiences: 
http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2013/09/under-my-umbrella.html

Kerala road-trip

I returned to Kerala towards the end of the monsoon. This time, the trip revolved around a long-standing desire to see the famous snake-boat races of Kerala. We drove long-distance from Bangalore, through Cherai, Alleppey, Kumarakom and Thekkady, for 11 days. Disappointingly, the organisation of the Nehru Trophy boat race left much to be desired, though the sheer muscle power of the rowers kept me spellbound.  I also discovered that Thekkady is no longer the pristine, quiet forest it used to be, in my memory from 15 years ago. However, the night trek through the Periyar Tiger Reserve despite a sprained foot, a gravity-defying Kalaripayattu performance and emerald monsoon vistas made the trip worthwhile.

Bandipur

Two back-to-back trips to Bandipur on work gave me the opportunity to spend time in a forest I hadn’t visited that often before. The proliferation of Lantana and Parthenium has reduced the visibility of the forest floor, but, birds, plants and insects gave me more than enough to focus on.

Hogenakkal Falls

‘Niagara of the east’ or ‘smoky rock’ – whatever you choose to call Hogenakkal Falls, it does make for an enjoyable day trip from Bangalore. The river Cauvery winds her way across the two states fighting over her, creating a spectacular cascade on each side. The ‘Karnataka falls’, the ‘Tamil Nadu falls’, coracle rides through picturesque gorges connecting them, oil massages by the water and fresh, fried fish sold by enterprising vendors – Hogenakkal has options to keep everybody happy.

The 'Karnataka Falls'

Thadiyandamol, Coorg

Coorg’s highest peak deserves its own special trip. And, no amount of time will suffice. Four days spent on and around Thadiyandamol revealed the profusion of life it supports – birds, reptiles, fungi, flora and other fauna. It also made us very aware of every joint and muscle we possessed, the sad fallout of sedentary city life. But, to share the pain, to hobble around together, to make exciting discoveries at every turn, to pluck leeches off ourselves each evening, and to lounge around with coffee and snacks after a very exhausting day, were a bunch of friends.  It made for a very memorable birthday. 

Kurinji, Sholas and a dragonfly, at Thadiyandamol

Read about my Thadiyandamol trek, here:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2015/08/thadiyandamol-trek-ground-beneath-my.html

Read about other trips to Coorg:

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2014/12/a-river-runs-through-it.html 

http://nomadandabag.blogspot.com/2012/01/coorg.html

Under my Umbrella

Revellers await the rain at Worli sea-face, Bombay

A few weeks before the monsoon arrived, we aired out our umbrellas and ensured they needed no repairs. Families went out to buy raincoats and 'rainy shoes'; sometimes, gumboots too. Its arrival coincided with the beginning of a new year at school. We lined the insides of our school bags with plastic covers to prevent our meticulously-wrapped brown paper books from turning into soggy, brown pulp. We shoved crackling plastic bags with a set of ‘change clothes' into already overstuffed work-drawers. 

Gola at Juhu beach

On the day it arrived, we'd all ritualistically run out to dance and get soaked in the first rain. Once it set in, we incessantly looked out of windows and craved pakodas and chai. And we sighed, because on most days, we couldn't get any. Some days, we did get them and we’d be over the moon. Other days, 'makai’ or ‘bhutta’ were a source of great joy too. Sometimes, just for the thrill, we’d indulge in monsoon taboos like gola.

We swathed our feet with 'Band-aids' because our 'rainy shoes' would bite. It didn't matter that the Band-aids would get washed away while wading through calf-deep water. We'd assiduously stick on some more. We'd roll up our trousers, jeans or salwars; I quite think we invented capris. We'd hanker for 'rainy songs' on the radio. We'd think nothing of stepping out in cyclonic storms to get to work, to school, to meet somebody or buy something; the only option would have been to remain home-bound for almost four months. 

A few weeks later, irritation would set in - no more summer mangoes to eat, roads getting flooded, wearing semi-wet clothes most of the time, wading through filthy water, bags getting wet, falling ill. Nonetheless, at the end of each May, we'd sing "Ye re, ye re paoosaa, tula deto paisa, paise jhala khota, paoos aala motha", a Marathi song enticing the monsoon to arrive. The biggest perk of the monsoon obliging was getting sudden holidays - when your road was flooded or your office, school or college was. Though that wasn’t more than a couple of days in a month, it was still looked forward to. Nothing's sweeter than your boss calling to tell you not to come in today, just as you were donning your rainy shoes to step out to catch the 9:29 Churchgate fast.

That's monsoon in Bombay for you, where I grew up. We shared a love-hate relationship with it, as turbulent as the rain-bearing clouds. Each June, we transitioned from summer in a well-oiled drill, to make the monsoon a part of our lives for the next few months. After I moved out of Bombay, I began craving the rains. So, each year, I decided to travel during the monsoons; not to cities, but, to places where I could enjoy it without any of the cares associated with monsoons in Bombay. 

A few times, it didn't rain at all, like when I was at Ashtamudi, Kerala, one August, which is supposed to be peak monsoon. Hubby and I sat longingly by the backwaters, waiting for raindrops to pelt our cottage roof. Sometimes, dark clouds lined the sky and filled me with hope, but it wasn’t meant to be. Once, when the rain wasn’t yet expected, I had a wet trip to Wayanad, Kerala, in the pre-monsoons. Travelling with a bunch of friends, the unexpected showers were fun and brought with them lots of steaming hot chaaya, comfort food, laughter-filled mad scrambles to seek shelter and hiking around Wayanad’s slippery, hilly terrain. 

Monsoon clouds over Ashtamudi Lake

Meenmutty falls, Wayanad

Another year, I spent time only at rainforests, but in two different parts of the world - Valparai, Tamil Nadu, and Borneo. That rain is indeed a life-giver was reinforced by seeing the forests come alive with swathes of green. Fungi sprung in profusion. And, getting wet with us were tiny critters and towering trees. Yet another trip was spent loafing around Belgaum, Karnataka, with friends, hopping from one waterfall to another. And of course, gorging on monsoon favourites dished up by our friend’s mother and a nearby bakery. Last year, I battled leeches at Agumbe, Karnataka, in vain. Most visible were the five bites on my neck, referred to as my ‘pearl necklace’, thanks to the calamine lotion on each bite to reduce itchiness. The unrelenting rain also meant we didn’t bathe for all the three days we were there, due to a lack of hot water.

A Jewel Beetle in the monsoon, Valparai

Dipterocarps shrouded in the evening mist, on a rainy evening at Borneo

Picturesque hut on the 'viewpoint hilltop' at Belgaum

Raindrops bounce off a Vine snake at Agumbe

This year, I was blown away (pun intended) watching the southwest monsoon arrive into India's southern tip, as Radha and I joined our friend Arati, as she chased the monsoon for her story. I remember this trip for the giggle-fest it was and for uninhibitedly getting soaked each day as we chased the chaser of the monsoon. 

Fishermen haul in their catch under a 'first-monsoon' sky in South Kerala

I followed it up with a road-trip with hubby, through central Kerala. We spent time at a beach, by the backwaters and at a forest. We also timed our trip to watch the famous snake-boat race at Alleppey. 

Emerald-green paddy fields, mist and water cascades - a typical monsoon day in Kerala

With a visit to Bandipur this month, this is the most I’ve ever travelled in the monsoon. After four months of being a constant companion, my rain gear has just been packed away in the loft. Until next year, then!     

Goat-herd, Banyan and monsoon clouds - at Bandipur