Month: May 2011

Argh…Agra!!!

We woke early to catch the sun rise over the stunning Taj Mahal.
It was a romantic thought; to share a special moment together on the river bank as the warmth of the rising sun hit the majestic domes of this iconic white marble mausoleum.
Yet like almost every experience here in India, it was eclipsed by sadness felt for the people here living a life of squalor and hardship. Going to look at a sunrise seems indulgent when you drive past hundreds of people, sleeping on decrepit make shift beds, lining the street outside their barely habitable properties.

Visiting a World Heritage Site here in India is no walk in the park – it can be a traumatic experience. Children begging outside, people with deformaties and the agrressive hawkers. Armed guards standby, but no one does anything.


When I arrived in Delhi I was so impressed by the capital, it reinforced all my ideas about a modern India experiencing growth thanks to an entrepreneurial and hard working work force.
A week later and I see that I was naively optimistic. Delhi is still shiny after is Commonwealth Games ‘spruce up’ and is hardly respresentatative of this huge nation. If leave the wealthy capital behind, you quickly discover the human misery of life in India is no longer tucked away in hard to see slums under motorway flyovers – its everywhere.
Our early morning trip to see the Taj Mahal took us through the crowded and depressing neighbourhoods of Agra. Almost 65 years after Independence the hugely wealthy country of India, with nuclear weapons and world class information technology parks, can’t even provide the most basic utilities for its inhabitants.
From the comfort of our air conditioned car we glimpsed children and parents crowd around standpipes to get water to wash; children washed their teeth with their fingers; whilst in the squalid streets monkeys, water buffalo and stray dogs repeatedly brought the traffic to a halt. I began to feel a mixture of guilt and powerlessness.
Every moment here is filled with compassion for these people. Amazingly, despite everything the kids laugh and smile, running up to you to chat, or look at your camera.
When we arrived, before 6am, we saw kids playing cricket on the dusty, litter strewn river bank in front of the Taj Mahal; whilst others looked through rubbish bins for something of value. Their clothes discoloured by dirt, their feet and hands dark with grime. We stood, waiting for the sun to come up and spoke with a youngster who wanted to sell us some bangles. He was witty, smart, and good looking. In many other countries the world would be his oyster, yet here he’s trapped with no access to higher education and instead forced to sell cheap tourist tack: its sad, depressing – frustrating.
The political elite in India are shameful. Manipulating the vulnerable, playing the caste game, and making false promises they secure power only to keep the wealth at the top.
Over the past week I’ve seen just a few corporations that dominate almost all commerce in India. Rich family run firms control India’s wealth. Entrepreneurs and innovators are crushed by powerful companies that operate across practically all sectors. Take TATA – it’s the firm that has acquired Range Rover and Jaguar in the UK. As well as cars, the firm makes buses, trucks, even bottles the Himalayan water available in the hotels; and provides 3G mobile networks etc. etc. These are the types of businesses that control everything in India.
There is a burgeoning middle class but when one sees the awesome size of India, one realises that here is still unacceptable inequality.
To keep pace with population growth, India needs to create a staggering 1 million new jobs a month! How can India achieve this when the market is so closed to investment and innovation and religion and the caste system stifles people?


Everyone at home told me India was full of colour, heat and energy. Well that may be true but it’s no Bollywood movie I assure you. India is not all about yoga, head massages and gurus, Although there are aspects that do nurture the soul (such as the natural warmth of the youngsters and the humble nature of most people) much just exhausts you.
From the political hub of Delhi to the promised majesty of Rajastan, and on to the highly marketed romantic Taj Mahal, the common thread of this trip for me was not the colour of India – it was the sickening inequality and filth of life here.
All you want to do is help. Initially, the easiest approach is to dole out the cash to kids. You have to be careful. Our guide told us never give to a beggar, or disfigured child or adult as these are pawns of the evil mafia, with whom the tourist police are complicit. It’s better to help someone like a child or young adult working as a trash picker). As little as 100 rupiah (about 1.5 euro) can make a difference here – the educated elite here consider 20 rupiah a day to be the acceptable standard of living for the poor – that’s a few euro cents a day.
How do the elite reconcile that with their religious teachings? Well its easy as we are told that the poor are being punished for sins committed in a past life. Plus many, like our Agra guide blamed the British occupation for crippling the nation. As a Brit I’ve had a lot of that all week.
Goodness if there aren’t enough problems here with the corrupt politics, and the crippling caste system that traps the population, and the blame game against the Imperialist Brits, there’s a religion that feels comfortable with suffering everywhere as it’s simply “bad karma coming home roost.”

I’ve only published shots that I felt captured the best of Agra – I have sanitised the reality (also the Taj Mahal was amazing, the detail of craftsmanship was mind blowing) but I don’t think this blog is probably the best place to show the grim reality of urban life in India.

When I come back to India, it will be to Goa!!

On a more positive note my journey through this little triangle of India has also been defined by great food.
Not a single problem with Delhi Belly or dodgy water; and the cuisine is simple, fresh and great tasting.
I was advised to go veggie and that’s a good tip. The dishes of lentils,rice and vegetables are superb and the breads like clay oven baked tandoori roti are the perfect snack.
We avoided western style food except for a few treats in the hotel and we kept healthy. If you eat the piping hot food of the locals, you can’t go wrong. And I’ve not missed wine surprisingly. In this heat an ice cold Kingfisher beer hits the mark!
Also, I love having an Indian Head Massage! Like reflexology, the technique here seems to reach nerves and muscles in your entire body.

By the way, I had a little gift from the universe. I have always wanted a pair of Tibetan chimes, ever since Luis my friend in Marbella used then at the end of the massages he used to give me.
Well here in Agra a therapist from Northern India, close to Tibet, gave me a pair last night after a massage – thank you!

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Surveying The Pink City through Rose Tinted Spectacles

Jaipur, the Jewel of Rajasthan, a magical city of palaces, architectural marvels and Regal treasures. Well that’s what the travel guides imply, but the reality is that this place is in quite a state. After the five hour drive from Delhi (passing the almost nonstop development of IT cities serving Europe) I was highly expectant of the sights this city was to reveal.

Yet from the outskirts, the scenes that greeted us were more reminiscent if the post tsunami devastation of north east Japan than the magical kingdom of the unimaginably rich Maharajas. Falling down buildings, scrap cars, rusting buses, piles of rubble, huge amounts of rubbish and miles of filthy workshops and kiosks lining the road were the reality. Cows crazed amongst the steaming piles of refuse whilst old plastic bags and other litter blew in the breeze. It was a shock; a sad introduction to what was once one of India’s most magical cities. So I really tried my best to see the best in this city.

During the 19th century to mid 20th century, Jaiphur was the epitome of style, luxury and extravagance. Viceroys, European aristocracy, World-Class polo players and artists were the guests of the Majaraja; enjoying the unprecedented luxury of palaces that dotted the Pink City. The city was an architectural delight, built in the early 18th century by Royalty, India’s first planned and designed city, it was a the marvel of northern India. A flavour of this golden era remains, although mainly as crumbling facades, of dirty terracotta. I am told the High Society remains – Polo players, famous cricketers and Royalty, but I have to scratch below the surface to see that!

The distinctive colour of Jaiphur dates back to when Prince Albert visited Rajastan’s capital, when the once yellow city was repainted in a warm welcoming terracotta pink as a gesture of welcome to the Prince Regent.

Today, the City Palace in the centre of old town whets ones appetite for this period of history, but the surrounding government and military buildings are a disgrace; a filthy decrepit indication of the region’s poor local governance. The iconic Palace of the Winds (Hawa Mahal) just about remains standing, facing a intensely crowded and contaminated thoroughfare, it’s delicate beauty eroded by the cruel reality of daily life in India.

The narrow streets of old town hold few glimpses of beauty, more the daily grind of the poor, desperately trying to survive in environment that seems to trap people in poverty and menial labour. A few scenes offer colour and smiles.

The flower workers prepare petals and sashes for the resorts and hotels, whilst an enthusiastic, opportunist worker hoping for a tip calls me over to share some of his intoxicating, floral perfumes, stored in heavy cut decanters.

He rubs the glass stopper tops against my wrist and lower arm, releasing rich scents that seem for a second to transform the grubby street into a beautiful garden.

Outside the city is the stunning and majestic Amber Fort. The location is inspiring, built on steep rock overlooking the lake. The classic way to arrive is to take an elephant ride up the steep cobbled lane to the main gate, with it’s striking image of the elephant god Ganesh. It’s an inevitable tourist trap; even in low season the hawkers are aggressive, prodding you and thrusting tacky carved elephants in your face and shouting prices.

Climbing aboard the elephant provides a welcome escape although one tinged with compassion and concern for these majestic and intelligent animals, reduced to providing slave labour transport for tourists. I try and enter the spirit of things and smile for the camera, but it is not until we arrive at the fort, and I escape the crowds that I really start to feel the magic of this place. It’s a fascinating mix of architecture, reflecting the influence from Moghul invaders.

The inner Palace of Mirrors is a myriad of salons covered in reflective glass that were once also encrusted with thousands of priceless precious jewels.

It’s about 42 degrees, the hottest day of the year so far, but it’s dry with a breeze and it actually feels much more comfortable than the earlier humidity of Thailand. However, without doubt our hotel offers a calming respite from the heat of the city.

It’s the Rambagh Palace, oozing vintage glamour and Royal extravagance. Peacocks parade through the landscape gardens, as royal horseman guard the entrance. Although a genuine Palatial residence, it’s now a hotel and has been run by Taj Resorts and Palaces for almost 40 years.

There is a resident Historian who offers tours and insights to the place over canapes and champagne – very civilised!

It is impeccable; with a flutist playing in the courtyard as the sun sets and doves and wood pigeons fly off to roost; and guests enjoy cocktails on the terrace as turbaned butlers stand at their beck and call. I think this is the closest we’re going to get to the royal magic of Rajastan.

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Delhi – the Old and the New

Cocooned in her enormous flat bed airline seat, the little girl was oblivious to the turbulence disturbing our flight across the Indian Ocean on our way to New Delhi.
The youngster was instead calm and motionless, her eyes fixed on the screen of the iPhone in her hand, watching a Disney movie.
It’s a scene more common of India now, as the Indian sub continent begins to realise it’s true potential.
Our neighbours on the flight were an Indian family on their way home from a holiday in Indonesia. Affluent and young, the family are just the tip of the iceberg; just a tiny, tiny fraction of the burgeoning middle class in India, the world’s largest democracy and an economic powerhouse.


This is my first time in India, and I didn’t know what to expect. As a Brit growing up in the 80s I’ve seen my fair share of period dramas depicting India at the height of the British occupation through to independence in the late 1940s. Then there’s the contemporary portrayals of the sub-continent in movies like ‘Slumdog Millionaire, depicting a society with extreme gaps between the ‘haves’ the ‘have-nots’.
Finally there’s been the kind advice from friends and family offered to us about food hygiene; ‘no ice in drinks’; ‘never eat salad’, ‘don’t even let the water from the shower go in your mouth!’
No wonder every person who visits India has a different story to tell.
Well, I prepared myself with antibacterial spray, wipes, hand gel; diarrhoea tabs and a conviction not to touch my face, pick my nose or eat with my hands!

We arrived ahead of schedule at New Delhi’s Indira Ghandi International Airport – a huge, gleamingly clean and new Terminal 3. Our driver told us the airport is designed to handle around 100 million passengers a year, making even Heathrow sound small.
In fact once outside, greeted by the ubiquitous sash of marigolds, and in our transfer 4 x 4 I saw that the whole area was new or under construction. Huge motorway flyovers, and the new elevated stretch of the Metro Express dominated the view from the car window before entering the elegant avenues of New Delhi with its diplomatic Embassies; miltary academies; the Presidential Palace and finally our hotel, the classic Shangri-La.
Islamic extremists and the terror they bring to Hindu nations like Bali and India continues to impact travel. As with our time in Bali, security checks in India don’t stop at the airport.


Police roadblocks are along the roads from the airport and entry into the hotel compound isn’t permitted until the car is searched and checked.
We had to pass through a metal detector and our bags were scanned. It’s a sad reminder that even in the week when the USA assassinated Osama Bin Laden, the threat from the warped ideology of those that follow him continues to touch our lives.

The following day breakfast was a feast!! I totally went for it and had all things Indian. To be honest after so many weeks of hotel breakfasts, it was fantastic to have something different.
A waiter befriended me once he saw my enthusiasm and ordered a few Indian favourites including a thin crepe filled with mildly spicy potato and vegetables (Masala Dosa); a rice pancake with coriander, red onions, and chilli (Uttapam); little fried vegetable snacks (Mysore Bonda) and some light rice snacks, and mini rice blinis (some with sweet red pepper called Kara Dosa – all served with a selection of mint, coconut and tomato sauce (Idly).

We then had a full day in the city with a really friendly guide, Rajesh Sharma (rsharma36 AT HOTMAIL DOT COM) who had studied Spanish at University so gave both Rafa and I a great insight to the city.


In addition to the obligatory tour of ‘New’ Delhi, with it’s imposing presidential; parliamentary; and state architecture, we also got to see part of the walled city of ‘Old Delhi’.


We took in a rickshaw ride like a real tourist (although there were very few foreign tourists) through the main street of Chandni Chowk and explored the narrow streets and alleys of the area, with an immense tangle of utility cables above, and informal produce stalls below.

(Not sure my rickshaw rider appreciated such a chubby client as me!)


It wasn’t as I expected. Admittedly the gap between those struggling to make ends meet in old town and those investing in real estate in new town (with square metre prices higher than London) is huge. Yet the people on the whole did seem to be making a living. There wasn’t much of the raw poverty I was expected. The people are friendly and truly curious to meet foreigners. Some would sit next to us to listen to our conversations whilst others would ask to have their photo taken with us.


It wasn’t like Peru or Morocco where everyone wants a dollar or a euro for a photo; here they appeared more flattered by our respectful interest in their lives and booming country.

We had the privilege to enter the city’s major Sikh temple, Gurdwara, with its elaborate gold central area, where a copy of the teachings of the Sikh guru Nanak Dev is kept and surrounded by men singing sections from it.


We also visited the spectacular Lakshmi Narayan Mandir temple, with it’s colourful statues and mythical idols.
Sunday is probably the best day to enjoy the capital.

Traffic is light (well as much as can be expected for a city of 17 million people!) and the residents have free time to enjoy the city’s parks, shrines and temples, including the impressive UNESCO World Heritage complex of Qutub Minar.

It includes what is said to be the tallest brick Minaret in the world, constructed centuries ago to mark the first successful Muslim invasion of India.


What’s for sure, this time in Asia has reminded me just how much this dynamic region is going to be crucial to our future prosperity in Europe.
India’s population is growing at something like the equivalent of Australia every year, and with high levels of education and almost unlimited human capital, the economy is representing a major democratic marketplace for the west.

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Bali – The island of Resort Paradises

Above us are the long dangling tendrils of tropical hard wood trees, whilst all around are palms, exotic plants and flowering orchids – we are passing through this mysterious space in the comfort of a sleek black Mercedes limosine; we’re entering the St. Regis Bali, through its extraordinary  ‘Rain Forest Gate. The thick canopy of exotic plants bids you welcome to a special world.

A prisitine, fantasy world of gardens, fountains and real luxury.
In the car are cool, fresh face towels and individually presented, homemade truffles – it’s a fun journey!

Fantasy worlds
Lying between Java in the west and Lombok in the east, Bali has long been a favourite for those seeking an upscale retreat.
Aman Resorts, The Four Seasons and the like created fantasy resorts here in the late 80s and 90s that were to become the blue print for exclusive hotel retreats across the world.
The last time I was here was about ten years ago when Ritz Carlton opened it’s flagship propety near Jimbaran (it’s now a locally operated resort, Ayana but still on the Condé Nast Traveller Hot List).
This was my first time staying in a Balinese style villa and I was totally seduced by the magic of the architecture, the detailing and the sense of exclusivity!
This time we’ve been lucky enough to experience a couple of properties in the newly developed Nusa Dua area; a purpose built elite enclave of upscale resorts on the southern tip of the island; it was nothing but forest the last time I was here.
When you’re looking to unwind, disconnect and be pampered sometimes there is nothing better than a resort, and here they do it better than anyone.
The St. Regis is probably amongst the most stunningly designed retreats I’ve visited. 
The entire estate has been landscaped to create a sub tropical paradise with manicured gardens, swimmable lagoons and peaceful gazebos and cabanas, that slope down to the beach and the Indian Ocean.
The guest suites and pool villas are amazing – superbly designed and furnished. The quality and attention to detail is inspirational – makes you want to try and somehow mimic the style at home.
Rich hardwoods mix with silks, chenille, velvets and linens in olive greens, burnt orange and browns – giving a relaxed yet elegant and sophisticated look to each guest space – and all this is supported by the 24 hour St. Regis Butler service!
A Balinese Wedding headpiece decorates a wall, whilst on another is the type of wide screen TV everyone wants at home.
The hotel’s marketing department showed us the Strand Residences – its group of beach front homes available for guests – with all the services of the 5 star St. Regis hotel. 
These stunning homes and the resort is designed by a prominent architect from Jakarta. 

Gourmet and more

One evening we sampled the signature ‘Seafood chilled and grilled’ menu at the KuyaPuti restaurant. The venue has a timeless elegance to it with a superb combination of Balinese arts and crafts with the simplicity of East Coast American architecture – sounds strange but it works! As you walk up to the restaurant, you pass huge chandeliers made from wafer thin shells, that tinkle in the breeze.
The evening started with cocktails in the bar before what was to be one of the best meals I’ve had.
The food was outstanding; I’ve never eaten oysters that tasted so fresh and delicate and the lobster and squid were sumptuous served with a selection of dips and sauces.
The Wine Spectator has recognised the restaurant two years running for having ‘one of the most outstanding restaurant wine lists in the world’.
It was a pleasure to talk with the restaurant manager and resident German Sommelier, Harold Wiesman  – he even writes his own poetry which sometimes he shares with guests!
Yet eating doesn’t always have to be an occasion. The St. Regis Gourmand deli offers European style snack, in house prepared chocolates and patisserie and with each tea or coffee, a jar full of home made cookies – a dangerous temptation.But for some real class, there is afternoon tea in the The King Cole Bar that continues the legacy of the Astors and the St. Regis flagship property in New York,

Remède Spa

The St. Regis Spa is world-class too; a carefully designed space using the theme of the moon and butterflies, inspiration from a well known Asian poem – another Balinese temple but this time dedicated to pampering.
Reflecting the original meaning of spa, an hour’s relaxation is offered in the skin rejuvenating  salt water circuit, providing massaging jets to different parts of your body as you move from sector to sector 
A Balinese massage here is a decidedly upscale experience and  I was reluctant for it to end!

Lounging at The Laguna

We also enjoyed a few days at Starwood’s sister property The Laguna, A Luxury Collection Resort.

One of 75 luxury properties in the world, this hotel and spa is meeting the growing demand for luxury travel from Indonesian High Society, and the wealthy Asian and Russian markets with its superb private villas. Like the suites, they benefit from 24 hour butler service and a private setting in amongst lagoons and gardens.
The hotel has a wonderful open air beachside bar, playing chill out tunes, and stylish designed and lit. The candle lit terrace spills out down to the beach, with lanterns hanging from the trees creating a seductive, magical ambiance.
We were treated to some delicious cocktails, slowly getting intoxicated as the warm, humid evening progressed.
Every Luxury Collection property has its own signature cocktail, created my acclaimed mixologist Greg Seider. Having tried the ‘The Raymi’  at the Tambo del Inka in Peru, at The Laguna we tried its Bali version of ‘The Last Cocktail’ , a refreshing drink of bubbles, juniper berries, with a dusting of cloves on the surface. But this isn’t the place for getting too drunk. Bali has high import tariffs on alcohol, so even a glass of a modest, non vintage Australian White wine could set you back 25 euros! A typical bottle of wine is 70 euros.
On resort wine lists it’s not uncommon to see wine list prices running to 25 million rupiah for vintage European wines (into the thousands of euros! Popular with wealthy Asian visitors).
It’s clear that many European hotels have some work ahead to compete with the quality of these types of resorts. Firstly the welcoming staff set the tone, whilst the quality of accommodation and service deliver real value for money.

Bali may have suffered some of the effects of commercialisation, with the poorly controlled development of areas such as Kuta, but fundamentally it remains one of the world’s great resort destinations – and the  laid back, island pace comes as a welcome break from the urban energy of Taipei and Bangkok

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Bali – an island of rice fields, artisans and elite tourist enclaves

Arriving at Denpasar’s international airport, I didn’t notice much difference since the last time I was on the island some ten years ago.
The homespun style of the airport and warm smiles of the locals, even those touting taxis and money exchange make you realise you’ve arrived on a welcoming island.

I was eager to revisit Ubud, the creative heart of the island. It was during the journey there that i realised there had been a great deal of change over the last decade!


The traffic heading north from the airport towards Ubud, past the commercial and tourist bases of Jimbaran, Seminyak and Kuta was intense! Suzuki mini vans, 4x4s and mopeds all jostled for limited road space. Some of the water ways were contaminated and it was clear the island was struggling to deal with waste disposal, with occasional piles of rubbish along the roads.
Yet once we were 20 kms or so out of this small but densely populated area of the south, the calmer face of Bali began to emerge.

Lining the roads to Ubud are street side retailers selling everything that makes up the Balinese dream for tourist homes and resorts; intricately carved statues; huge Buddhas; fountains; pots; sub tropical plants; exquisite doors; hardwood furniture; daybeds…. the list is endless. The difference now is that almost all of this is available in Europe; we bought our Balinese daybed from the poligono in Marbella!
Ubud is no longer a village; it’s a busy tourist town, its streets packed with designer boutiques, craft shops, restaurants, bars, and massage salons. Its a hub for inland tourism, not just from Australia, Asia and Europe but for locals too who travel from the commercial south to enjoy a long weekend in this bohemian setting.
Ubud has a well established restaurant and bar scene with both informal and upscale venues.
We ate in one of the town’s established institutions; ‘Murni’s‘. Ni Wayan Murni has a gift shop out front and at the back, overlooking the steep river gorge is a restaurant, chill out lounge and bar. Food is excellent and I tried the popular Bali dish of slow smoked Duck with yellow rice.
Bud’s central market is crowded and foul smelling, and mainly sells mass produced rubbish, but the town still has a few genuine craftsmen and artists working and selling, although vintage and antique items are scarce now.

There are one or two fancy boutiques with amazing artefacts, ranging from vintage beaded bags from East Timor to carved statues; but the high prices and hassle of shipping makes shopping for this type if thing easier in Europe.
Parts of the original village remain, such as the complex of temples near the central cross roads; and charming details like the lotus garden pool.
The monkey forest remains and is an entertaining walk. We visited the monkey temple and happened to stumble across a local religious event with community women beautifully dressed bringing gifts in decorated baskets carried on their head.

A Balinese massage is an essential part of any visit and at about 10 euros is a fraction of the cost of the experience in a resort spa.
There are a few luxury resorts up in Ubud, but most stay in villas or stylish B&Bs called HomeStays.

We stayed in a small villa property outside of town, surrounded by rice fields and middle class homes.

The narrow lane to the villas was lined with small independent kiosks selling everything from snacks to small trays woven from leaves used by locals for placing gifts on the numerous altars.


Also there was the ubiquitous sight of old spirit bottles refilled with motorbike petrol for affordable resale to residents.
Even here rubbish was sadly piling up in streams and on river banks. In the past this was not an issue when everything was biodegradable but now with plastic bags and aerosols its a sad sight.
I was told that most rubbish is burnt by families – I saw some one burning their rubbish in the gutter.

Overtime surely this will be an issue with the environment – this certainly something the government has to sort out.
The island pace is slow and relaxing and everything revolves around respecting the gods they believe inhabit the intricate carved statues found everywhere. Homes, businesses and hotels all have altars and temples for daily offerings and regular rituals.

Even immigration officials each had a small basket on their desks with gifts for the deities, some more sophisticated than others.
This visit to Bali is all about relaxing; for an indulgent ten days in some wonderful resorts.
Let’s hope we’re sufficiently recharged for the next experience – India’s rich and colourful Golden Triangle.

(For this blog entry I used my iPhone for pictures using the Instagram filter – I hope makes it more interesting after the glossy brochure type pics of the resorts).

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