European Backpacking 1.0 : München

When you are young, you are scared. Scared of what the future holds in store for you. You start doing damage control in the present, under the cloak of that fear. In a hope that the future is better, the future is rosier, we make the roses of the present wither under these thorns.

One year of lacklustre work, that was paying me grand, but leading me nowhere, helped me have the best 3 weeks of my life. All I needed was, some hope, a lot of courage and a childhood friend to help me take the plunge.
P.S: I quit my job 2 days after coming back. That story, and plenty more, in the posts that follow.

“After all, we all live for the stories”

The Bavarian countryside

This story is from the Bavarian city of Munich. These people do not like calling themselves German. Do not speak a lot of German tongue, and definitely get offended when you mistake their beer for the German brew!
By our Indian watches, it was late late into the night. But the Bavarian horizon was alit. Alit in the European Summer dusk. Getting off, we had to run. Yes, run. Germany vs Algeria at 10pm. We hustled for tickets on the automated ticket machine. Zones, circles, single tickets were confusing us. So some nice Germans helped us, and off we were after a 10 euro ticket (Yes, the airport is far off from the main city). Got off at Hauptbahnhof (Central train station) and ran off to find the nearest bar. It was crowded. Rajeev Chowk crowded. We stood outside.
Suddenly we noticed standing outside was not a very good idea, as we were literally being pulled into bars around. Eureka! It was a red light area. We ran inside the Rajeev Chowk (Yes, I do not remember the name) bar.

The Old White Haired German in a heavy grunted voice (Germany is playing, and he can’t see the match, what should have we expected) shouted at us to order 2 drinks as varun said he didn’t want to drink. “You’re at a bar not a public park, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DRINK”. A beer and a coke arrived in a jiffy. In extra time, Deutschland won. The streets went crazy. Like mayhem.

After the match we were in for a surprise. Found out that peeing costs half a Euro. Rs 40 to pee. WHAAAAAAT?

Took a tram ticket to the hostel. * Deutschland Deutschland singing in the background*. The hostel was called the TENT! Yes, it actually was a humungous tent with 100 dorm beds in it. While checking in, the receptionist handed us over 5 blankets. We very proudly mentioned, we are from North India, we do have winters and the weather right now is okay. By next morning, I could see the hostel guy secretly laughing at me. I had all the 5 blankets over me, and still was trembling. God bless the European summer.

This is how ‘THE TENT’ looks like

Hungry as ever from the cold, we got into the guest kitchen, cooked some readymade Bhaaji Varun had got. The kitchen had some items donated by fellow travelers, and we found bread and butter among them. While eating, we met an Irish guy, who was interning in the Chinese Biergarten. He told us the water in the taps is drinkable. We (Being Indians) laughed and told him, that drinking undrinkable water from our taps has made our stomachs relatively immune.

We took a day tram pass (valid for 24 hours) and were off to see the city. Our first stop was the city centre, MeriemPletz with a score of big designer showrooms. Every sixty minutes from a high rise building, statues were propelled out telling old Bavarian tales with ear pleasing bagpipe music. Seeing the architecture we thought it was a church, but it was the townhall(Gothic Neues Rathaus)! The church Peterskirche was just behind us. Being a typical European city centre, the streets were abuzz with musicians painting the air melodious.

Gothic Neues Rathaus

After a cold rainy European summer night, it was bright and sunny. We sat around a park near the city centre and followed the German tradition of mixing the sun with some Beer. After the beer, we wanted to see some fast cars, Comes naturally you see. Off to the BMW Museum we were. It was located in the Olympic Village. If you’re a cars fan, you will definitely have an orgasm. Add a couple of Rolls Royce to them, and you may even die.

We were thirsty. But water was very very expensive. And it was still sunny, remember the German sun rule? Abiding by it, we took the train for the English gardens. Reaching the station we found out that there was a wing of the Munich University nearby. Was glad to see majority of students cycling to college. Hello Indian students, I too drive motor vehicle to college. We are (un)cool like that.

Let us cycle people!

English Gardens was a huge piece of Green! A stream passing through the middle of it made it the perfect picnic spot. Frisbees flying around, football kicked over the stream, sunbathing people AND people SURFING. Eager as hell to join them, I quickly lied down on the grass on the edge of the stream, and started dreaming. After a lot of sun soaking and surfing, we walked to the other side where the Chinese Gartens were. We said Hi to the Irish guy we met at the hostel, and bought a couple of Hell Beers (most famous in Oktoberfest) and a BBQ chicken. A couple of liters in those big big mugs made us thirstier. After devouring the chicken, and burping the beer aftertaste, we headed off to Hofbrauhaus, the world’s oldest beer hall. We were to meet a friend there. Here came the 2 liters of the heavenly wheat Brew. The hall smelled of chicken and pretzels and the atmosphere was ripe with the melody of the trumpets and the din of the drunken people. The company and the atmosphere made us love that place even more. (Thank you Madalina :D)

Hell Beer and Chicken 😀

We went to our hostel, very tired, very sleepy, but still managed to watch the match with 40 other travelers who had made ‘THE TENT’ their night abode. Amidst the warmth emitted by the bonfire, guitars and jokes made the atmosphere even cosier. Slept late, but slept content. Checked out early in the morning to catch our tram to the bus station. On that wee hour tram we found a couple of fellow English travelers. One of them was joining the London Police next month (Yay, I have a friend there too now) we were too early at the bus station, had some Fafda with pickle (Yes, Varun had that packed with him too) and waited some more. The bus was late, and empty. With just 6 people on board, and the no speed limit rule on the Autobahn, we were on the high road to Prague 😀

The Full Moon and the Diamond covered Earth

At the first day of work after the trip, a friend asks me, “Hey Bro, How was the trip? What all did you see” To which I replied, “Every meter of the 11000 I rode.”

The love the road gives has a different tinge to it every moment, but the heart remains the same. The gush of wind on the face is a constant companion throughout. At times it will come telling you with dust and soot that how polluted the world has made it and sometimes it comes to romance you with the cool breeze with perfumes from the woods around and then leaves you with a red nose after the love making.

The 1100km in 60 hours with more than 26 hours on the road didn’t exhaust us. It gave us a high that no intoxicant ever could. A high from the throttle, from the rumble of Shera, from the curvy never ending roads and most of all the romance of the eye and the surroundings.

This trip was earlier planned for 4 days, but due to lack of holidays we decided to work on Friday in morning shift( 6 am to 2pm) and leave at 4, Indian Standard Time was followed strictly and we departed correctly at 5 pm.  We took the little longer route from Morbi to Anjar to Bhuj. We reached Bhuj at 2 am and put up at Hotel Swagat.

The next morning saw us depart for Kala Dunger and the White desert. A 90 km ride to Kala Dunger from Bhuj is amazing with desert vegetation on both sides and Banjaras’ movable huts lining the road. Kala Dunger is the highest point in Kutch rising to 500 meters above sea level. It has a Jain temple atop it. But the most fascinating thing of it is the view. In the backdrop of rocky hills is the White Desert and the the Rann of Kutch lake, across which is the border we share with our sweet little neighbours.

After the steep roads of Kala Dunger it was time for the salty roads of the White desert. Retracing 40km back the same road to a BSF Check post that issues permits to enter the white Rann and then 30km further to the Gujarat Tourism’s tent city created for Rann utsav.

The city created is well, plastic beauty. In the amazing natural beauty of the land which consists of World’s largest Salt Desert, one doesn’t create tents with AC, a swimming pool outside and waiters to serve them continental food. It is time that Indian Tourism learnt what treasures they possess and Sell the very same virgin as they are.

After a nice chat with the BSF personals asking us about our road trip and how RE Bullet is THE bike( YAY) we decided to enter the salt lands from a 5 km off road detour because on the main road, they ask you to park your vehicles in the parking( again, FUCK MAINSTREAM). 

Suddenly, all we could see around us was a HUGE white expanse of land. The view is unimaginable because you would have seen nothing you would have seen. To come close, imagine rock hard snow next to the ocean with the sun bright as ever making the snow shine as diamonds. Baffled? Imagine our state then!

Trapped prisoners been granted freedom was how we throttled our bikes round and round until we experienced another surprise, the marsh is pretty bad and me and Prinja had our Royal Enfields stuck in the snowy disguise of the marsh. Used the little left energy in us and lifted them out. The next instant we were on our backs feeling the hard salt on our necks and the vast expanse of Blue over us.

For 5 hours we lived the magic. Of the sun going down from one horizon turning the salts golden sparkling diamonds and the Moon rising from the other turning the golden into silver shimmers. I am very sure no metaphors of mine can do justice to what splendor my eyes are reminding me of. The full moon added to the grandeur.  Seeing the moon shine over the diamonds made me forget the universe where we cry in everyday. In the universe, where we forget how at every arm’s length we find the most beautiful sights ever created.

After the introspecting and wondering, and swimming in an ocean of awe, we headed back towards Bhuj. In the way we encountered another set of Bike wanderers. Amazingly, they were travelling from Pune to witness the full moon over white salts of Kutch. After our ‘Ride Safe’ salutations we finished one of the best days of our lives.

Next morning was the last morning of our trip. We headed South towards the coastal town of Mandavi. There, we expected to be disappointed, and the mortals were kind enough to make our wish true. Camels (and their dungs), Gola sellers, beggars, Maawa packets, amazing invention of plastic lining the Ocean. Within 5 minutes we were off (we didn’t want our surreal trip to become real again).

But Mandavi made up for all reputation with its second offering, the Vijay Vilas Palace. Made by the Kutch Maharaja a hundred years ago, it is very well maintained for many Bollywood movies are shot here (read Hum Dil De Chukenge Sanam). Amazingly regal and royal, one would love to live in such a luxury. Due to the little constraint in time, we didn’t go see the Beach resort and headed back on out 400 km ride towards reality.

After taking a lot of detours towards shorter( so we thought) routes, eating at a Punjabi Dhaba near GandhiDham( amazing Punjabi food after so long) and drinking a LOT(12-14 cups) of tea( it was COLD) we returned from the home we called road to the so called home.

Those 60 hours gave us new meanings and perspectives to everything. Roads aren’t just paved rocks, they are a universe of their own, bikes aren’t just modes of transport, they are lovers that would never leave you, and riding is not just a way to reach a destination, it is a lifestyle that we plan to live in.

 

 

Landi Jeep

It has been 66 years since the World War 2 ended, but the infinite revolutions of the clock hand could not erase the impact that the catastrophe left on this Earth.Till date the nuclear radiations cripple new born babies in Japan, US still possesses the ‘super country’ tag it had attained after the war and countries like Austria and Poland are still struggling to resurrect their fallen cities.

Other than these results the war left other non catastrophic traces on this Earth. Some of them can be seen on our city roads. Royal Enfield Bullets and Willy Jeeps were the indispensable vehicles of the War.

An indigenous vehicle to this state, the open jeep is synonymous to the the proud Punjabi spirit. Having travelled to many cities across the country I was really disheartened to see that the jeep is put into use either by milkmen to carry their milk barrels, or by the politicians to carry their false promises.Being a citizen of this wonderful city of Chandigarh, I feel  happy that this heritage vehicle is used as an accessory of pride and dominance.

Popularly called as the ‘Landi Jeep’ in the stoic Punjabi accent, it can be acquired from an exclusive showroom. To own it, one has to get the engine and chassis assembled . A place called ‘Dabwali’ near Bathinda is the Mecca of Jeep assembling industry. A Mahindra classic body, Toyota 2C engine, Buckle Seats, JK Tornado tyres, Maruti Gypsy disc brakes and other minor accessories would cost your pocket a minimal Rs. 1.5 to 2 lacs. Cheap considering the fact that after owning one you shall be the talk of the town.

But as Chandigarh boasts very strict traffic norms, ‘Open’ jeeps are not allowed on the city roads and hence a canopy needs to covering your head all the time. But the Punjabi hormones, your royal glittering drive and the ‘Dekh Laange’ attitude never lets the voluntary hand muscle to pull the canopy over.

So now let your genes loose after reading this article, and if they instruct your brain to travel the road to Dabwali, you can proudly say that all your 46 chromosomes are PUNJABI!!

 

Specification                                           Cost

Mahindra classic body                            50000

Toyota 2c engine                                    52000

Gypsy disc brakes                                   12000

Accessories(ace, shovel, sword)            7000

Leather bucket seats                               8000

JK Tornado tyres                                     13000

Stereo                                                       15000

Canvas canopy                                          5000

Headlights                                                   6000

                                                TOTAL   162000

The Smiling Royal Enfield Engineer

While driving a car you look at the world through a frame, whereas on a bike you yourself become the frame.

Since the day I’ve become old enough (Indian Driving age :P), I have been a bike person. A Standard Royal Enfield Bullet is the love of my life. The long rides on it have been more thrilling and orgasmic than any love I made out.

As it is said with a Bullet, a trip to a couple of destinations is very common. One to the unexplored mountains and the second to the old trusted Bullet engineer (I would like to designate him as one rather than a mechanic). It is about the second destination I write about today.

Shera( My Bullt, RE 350 Standard) has been majorly lived in 3 places. The planned roads of Chandigarh, the mountains near Dehradun and deserts of Kathiawar region near Jamnagar. With all these cities, I have noticed that these engineers have a lot of common traits, as if they were born in the same big family and then they were sent to different parts of India to serve the realm( Royal Enfield riders are no less than a realm). Their genetics define the following traits: Their undying love for the mean machine, understanding the riders mind and how he/she wants the machine to behave and more of all, greeting us with a lovable greeting( yes, the abuse chant is in a lovable way).

Daana in Chandigarh’s sector 38 motor market, Bhura in InnaMullah Building Dehradun and Salim near the railway phatak Jamnagar have been the engineers who haave cured Shera now and then.

But it will be his family doctor who has cured him since he was born will be the one I will be talking about.

He is lovingly called ‘DAANA’ and has his workplace at sector 38 west Motor market. At a first glance he appears to be a short dark man with greasy clothes with a smile on his face. His relationship with Bullet spares is even longer than my calculated age. With only five subordinates it sometimes is unimaginable how he manages to take care of the large number of Royal Enfields parked around him.

As soon as he kick starts the bike, the experience of twenty years flows down into his ears. The sound of the engine is all he needs to observe to trickle out the fault in it. With a spare shop attached to the workplace, one need not go around looking out for the parts.

Behind the shop I saw a couple of rusted rimless chassis placed. On asking what he plans to do with them, he replies,” Make them”.  To my next question, “into?”, he just glances over a newly shimmering bike parked an arm’s distance away and winks at me saying,” this is a 25 year old chassis I’ve worked upon”.

Amazed at his workmanship and skills I asked him that what did he charge for the modification? What I got as a reply made onions look as diamonds.

Such magicians with machines are normally ‘not’ graduates in technology because students studying engineering prefer holding a gamepad in their hands than a spanner.

Tireless body and a smiling content face is what draws me to them even when my Bullet only burps a little, because they are the only other men I would let the love of my life be with.

How a 6 km ride turned into a 200 km adventure.

Today started off as a usual Sunday morning, with no food in the kitchen. My stomach started fighting with my brain to find some food. As usual, my brain won and the stomach had to be content with, water.

Also, as usual I had to go to work in the afternoon shift on Sunday, 2pm to 10pm. (sounds interesting, right?) With heavy steps I descended the stairs and kick started Shera( My Royal Enfield Bullet). Even he grumbled, before starting halfheartedly to carry me the 6km to the refinery to earn the daily wage of 1300 rupees.

In the parking Bedi, Katiyar, Ashu and Lala also looked to be off to somewhere. Out of courtesy, I said my greetings and asked them their destination. “Bechtel Beach” they announced in unison, with a large smile dangling from their excited faces. “Chal saath!” was their next sentence.

A road trip, an unexplored place and good company. It already sounded like Christmas. BUT, I had an afternoon shift and it was only 15 minutes to the ‘punch in’ time. I declined, with a sobbing heart. I followed them till the main gate, from where they would head off towards Bechtel and I towards my 1300 rupees. The main gate was symbolic of life. I was taking the turn opposite to where I wanted to go. I honked on top of Shera’s voice. Bedi and Ashu stopped.In a sudden rush of moment, my heart bypassed my brain and said, “Chal, main bhi chalta hun”.

Shera had Bedi’s Avenger 220 and Katiyar’s Apache 180 for company. A 92 km ride from the Reliance township, Bechtel is a beach that is in close proximity to Dwarka, the famous Hindu city where Krishna ji lived.

Dressed in the Reliance uniform (with safety shoes) I was a sight for people who we passed. It was also because Shera was rumbling loudly with happiness and we (Me and Bedi) were 2 Sardars riding alongside. (Sardars are a rare sight (surprisingly) in the Kathiawar region of Gujarat).

One thing I have noticed over my road travels is that the Roadways bus drivers are same everywhere. They are always in the mood to kill you, and drive their buses as if they are high end sports car, having sharp cut turns and A one acceleration. Also all of them look high. The Punjab, Haryana roadways drivers on Afeem, Pahadis(Uttarakhand and Himachali) on Charas and Gujarati drivers on Mawa.

An amazing ride was aided by excellent (though single laned) roads, a picturesque semi-arid backdrop and a cool post winter (winters in Gujarat equals sprig in North India) breeze. With a tea stop in between, it took us 2 hours to reach there. With huge windmills embarking the beach, it was still hard to find, as it had no specified entrance to it. A little off-roading on the sandy earth lead us to the wide expansive ocean that welcomed us with a mystic musical note.

The best thing about Bechtel is that it is virgin from the exploits of the great Indian businessmen and tourists who have left no stones unturned in making every famous Indian beach(Chowpatty, Juhu, Nagua, Baga, Calangute, Marina, Deegha) into a large sandy garbage bin. At Bechtel the sound of the ocean clattering against the shore is uninterrupted and the sand is devoid of plastics. An hour at that peace haven saw us refreshed, spiritually and physically.

The return journey saw us riding against the sunlight, and hence with increased speeds and a delayed stopover at which we treated ourselves with some traditional Mirchi ki Bhajiya(pakode). Our return to home was perfectly in sync with the sun’s entry into its own den.

This ride has definitely given the lion a scent that there are a lot of prey in the jungle which are eager to be hunted down. And as I have said before, when you drive a car you see the world through a glass, but when you ride a bike, you yourself are the glass.

Until the next journey, Shera conveys its regards.

About Bechtel Beach:

92 km from Reliance township.

115 km from Jamnagar

13 km from Dwarka

Best time to go: November to February, at sunset

Best way to go: You have read it above 😉