Here is our poorly put together survey we would love you all to do.
http://bitURL.net/ad5c
It's about tea, and other such things.
Whoever completes it the fastest will receive a real treat! -
Mick Hucknall, doing the shake n vac.
Saturday 7 August 2010
Survey Please!
Hello everybody.
Here is our poorly put together survey we would love you all to do.
http://bitURL.net/ad5c
It's about tea, and other such things.
Whoever completes it the fastest will receive a real treat! -
Mick Hucknall, doing the shake n vac.
Here is our poorly put together survey we would love you all to do.
http://bitURL.net/ad5c
It's about tea, and other such things.
Whoever completes it the fastest will receive a real treat! -
Mick Hucknall, doing the shake n vac.
Wednesday 4 August 2010
Half of Day 8. Thorough.
Day 8
Our original plan for getting from Behora to Siliguri, the town at the base of the West Bengal Hills on the way to Darjo, was to get the 13 hour over night Rajdhani Express Train from Mariani Junction, a mere 10 km from the tea estate. On day one we went train ticket buying, and were informed that there was no way we would be able to get tickets for the journey from Mariani Junction to Siliguri, as you generally need to book months in advance. Now, here is a perfect place to slot some thoughts on the Indian Railway System.
Ok. Here is what we understand. A high percentage of the following information is probably inaccurate.
First of all, there are 8 classes. 1AC, 2AC, 3AC, First Class, Executive Chair, AC Chair, Sleeper, and finally 2nd class. AC stands for Air Conditioned, but it actually means more than that. It's a sign of quality and luxury, throughout India. Not all classes are available on all trains. For example, if the train goes over night there wont be a chair option. Sleeper class is the way most of the population travels long distance, thus making it the most insightful and fun. Windows are open, you can hang out of the doors whilst in motion, chai sellers and nibbley sellers are allowed on, it's noisy, often stinking hot, dirty, but bloody marvellous.
The coaches also have a habit of being infested with cockroaches and/or rodents (with rodents being preferable in my book, as they are, at least, cute), though we encountered none this trip. Sleeper tickets are ridiculously cheap by western standards (e.g 24hr train ride, travelling somewhere around 1400 km would cost around 6 pounds), and you sit 3 in a row on cushioned blue plasticy benches, that later get converted into your 3 bunk beds, by the well engineered, simple method of hinges and hooks. No food is included in the price, but you are always around food for sale on platforms or from official/unofficial sellery guys, and from the wonderfully generous and friendly co-passengers that you inevitably create a rapport with that often feed you whether you like it or not.
There is a real sense of being in touch with the landscape you travel through when travelling sleeper class. Because the wind rushes in your face, because you can jump off the train if it pauses in the middle of nowhere for 10 minutes, because you can smell the delights/horrors of what's around you, because you can stick your full body out of the train and feel the power of the locomotive as it whistles close by gawking youths, sincere looking adults, and wavey children, because the noise is in your ears, always. It's exhilarating. And like nothing you can experience in western europe train travel anymore, where you are disconnected as much as possible from everything. We enter our little silent travel pods, spend a while texting, eat our pre-bought packaged sterile chicken salad sandwich and our chocolate treat that we've been aching to open since the journey began, listen to our solid state illegally acquired pop music, play a mobile phone game or two, even do internetty things on our portable computer lapmachines, possibly exchange small talk with neighbours, maybe occasionally glance out of the window, read the paper, do a puzzle, nip to the loo (though not whilst at a station!), until we alight at our destination. Slightly better at freecell, and up to date with correspondence, but none the wiser on the little, important things that make the world interesting, eclectic, fascinating and generally brilliant. Trains are wonderful. Indian trains are wonderful-er. Ok, you might occasionally witness bathrooms with shit everywhere, a young girl vomming out of the window with gusto, men hocking up enthusiastically and phlegming on the floor, chai sellers alerting potential customers at an unreasonable 5 am with not entirely necessary ear splitting yells, cockroaches on your face in the dead of night, and other frustrations, but my god, it's great to have the CHOICE to travel in the slightly sterile AC classes or the living, breathing Sleeper Class. (the pomposity of personifying a train class. Apologies.) As opposed to only the sterile option in England.
Preaching travellers are seldom not annoying. Not only because what is being said is usually exaggerated or warped in some way or another, but because it is nearly always being said from an unrealistic perspective. Travellers by their very definition are travelling, which basically means they are on holiday, albeit a more 'hardcore' holiday, not living in the country of visitation. Things always have to be better or worse on holiday, just so when you return you can have an opinion and sound worldly. And just like a hoildayer can't wait to show photos and complain about the lack of chips, a certain kind of traveller cant wait to preach. So please, this is not a - 'you simply must experience train travel in india, it's an unforgettable kasldjnfkjsdf et la de da', this is a - 'it's nice to feel in charge of the choices you make and not have everything decided for you, nice to feel in touch with a small part of the world, nice to not have to rely on a mobile communication device for sensory stimulation, nice to experience different things'. That went on a bit longer than expected.
The ticketing of train travel. This is the most flummoxing aspect of the trainal system. So, different authorities receive a quota of tickets to sell. Some for online selling, some for selling at particular stations but not at other stations, some for tourist information shops, some for travel agencies, there's a tourist quota, an emergency quota, a reserve quota and heaps of other quotas(?).
Right. How do you get your hands on them? Well. We still don't fully know. BUT, generally what has worked in the past is we go to the chaotic reservation area in a large city station (usually separate from the station itself) and fill in a form after trying to locate said form for a good chunk of time.
The form asks for the train name and train number (which you can only find out after queueing for a good chunk of time), which station you will be getting on/off, date of travel, class of travel in order of preference, name, sex, date of birth of each passenger, whether you are a doctor, whether you want to be entitled to a free upgrade (?), address and phone in uk, address and phone in india (?) and finally signature, and date of signature. Then you queue for a good chunk of time, all the while battling for your position in the queue, and give in form. They then tell you one of a number of things:-
-'ok, that'll be xxx rupees' (ideal situation, but unfortunately quite rare)
-'there are no tickets in that class, i can give you another class' (expensive, but still a good comment to get)
-'there are no tickets, but i can give you a one on the waiting list' (there are always cancellations, so you get given a WL number, and find out if you've been successful on the day. Usually under 100 is a good position to be in. You could also in this case ask for a tadkal (emergency) ticket, which costs slightly more. Some trains dont have a tadkal quota though, and others sell out easily)
-'Full' (followed by shrug).
-'you have to pay for the whole journey if you want a ticket' (for example, if a popular train starts at point a and travels to point c, and you want to travel from point b to point c, you would have to pay from a to c, because that is how the quota is given to them)
-'go to counter number 94' (which could mean anything. Occasionally this has been wonderfully helpful, occasionally counter 94 doesn't exist)
-'Haha' (usually followed by something like 'you need to book 3 months in advance for this train')
Some mega-stations have a tourist counter, which is just froody. It lubricates the complex mission hugely, but still occasionally leads to a no ticket situation, especially if heading off the beaten path.
One time we three were in Putrid Patna, and i shall indulge the ticket situation to you when we get there in a week. It was interesting, and we concluded that if you just HAPPEN to meet the right person, then it's possible to get any train ticket, even one that 'you need to book 3 months in advance'.
Also, on the subject of quota distribution, it is apparently used as a subtle method of weakening a population that appears to be revolting in some way or another. For example, where we are heading now there is the Gorkha movement, trying to create a separate state 'Gorkhaland'. So the government gives them a very small quota on the major trains leaving the area, meaning the population constantly feels repressed, trapped and helpless. Clever.
This is all very complicated. Just when i think it cant get more complicated, it does. But, it works, for better or for worse. 21 million seats a day around the country successfully distributed.
The reason for getting so deep into this isssss that although there were absolutely no tickets for the first leg to Guwahati, the helpful man we met in Kohora knew a man who knew someone who could get us 3 tickets on the second leg. So alls we needed to do was get to Guwahati. Now, the last night bus gets in too late to catch a 6 am train, and the bus before the night buses gets in at 1am. So we said 'Fuck It' over a decision making chai meeting and decided to get a car to Guwahati. The price difference was minimal, and it meant we could leave late in the evening, have more time at Behora, and arrive with enough time to meet our ticket tout. Also it meant we could avoid another bumpy bumpy bus ride.
So we did that.
After watching an intense cricket game, which was a huge community event. The usual serenity of cricket was disturbed by the ever so distracting generator BRRMMMMMM.
We stopped a few times for night time chai, whilst the driver had a nap.
Not going to lie, he might've had a tendency to break wind during sleep. Entering the car after the breaks was not pleasant. Sam created a catchy little tune, the only lyrics being 'This car smells of fart'.
Indeed.
One of the chai breaks we witnessed a very drunk 13ish year old play the fool once too often and piss off a strange older man. Who threw a big jug of water in a fit of rage (not sure if it was jocular rage or not) in the drunk kids general direction. It missed him, and hit another guy. It was entertaining.
We also stopped for a theatrical performance of a Hanuman Fable. Hanuman is the Hindu warrior monkey god. And there was a play on. At 00.30. For children. Not sure what the craic was with the time of showing. Surely a matinee would've been more suitable. But there you go. There we ran into a reporter for the Assam Spectator or something newspapery sounding. We did an interview before our driver suddenly decided it was time to go. So maybe we are in a newspaper article somewhere in Assam. That was a surreal stop.
Bloody hell, it's only 5am in this tale of Day 8. Perhaps a break is in order. Yes. Signing off.
Quilliam Bruvaz
Our original plan for getting from Behora to Siliguri, the town at the base of the West Bengal Hills on the way to Darjo, was to get the 13 hour over night Rajdhani Express Train from Mariani Junction, a mere 10 km from the tea estate. On day one we went train ticket buying, and were informed that there was no way we would be able to get tickets for the journey from Mariani Junction to Siliguri, as you generally need to book months in advance. Now, here is a perfect place to slot some thoughts on the Indian Railway System.
Ok. Here is what we understand. A high percentage of the following information is probably inaccurate.
First of all, there are 8 classes. 1AC, 2AC, 3AC, First Class, Executive Chair, AC Chair, Sleeper, and finally 2nd class. AC stands for Air Conditioned, but it actually means more than that. It's a sign of quality and luxury, throughout India. Not all classes are available on all trains. For example, if the train goes over night there wont be a chair option. Sleeper class is the way most of the population travels long distance, thus making it the most insightful and fun. Windows are open, you can hang out of the doors whilst in motion, chai sellers and nibbley sellers are allowed on, it's noisy, often stinking hot, dirty, but bloody marvellous.
The coaches also have a habit of being infested with cockroaches and/or rodents (with rodents being preferable in my book, as they are, at least, cute), though we encountered none this trip. Sleeper tickets are ridiculously cheap by western standards (e.g 24hr train ride, travelling somewhere around 1400 km would cost around 6 pounds), and you sit 3 in a row on cushioned blue plasticy benches, that later get converted into your 3 bunk beds, by the well engineered, simple method of hinges and hooks. No food is included in the price, but you are always around food for sale on platforms or from official/unofficial sellery guys, and from the wonderfully generous and friendly co-passengers that you inevitably create a rapport with that often feed you whether you like it or not.
There is a real sense of being in touch with the landscape you travel through when travelling sleeper class. Because the wind rushes in your face, because you can jump off the train if it pauses in the middle of nowhere for 10 minutes, because you can smell the delights/horrors of what's around you, because you can stick your full body out of the train and feel the power of the locomotive as it whistles close by gawking youths, sincere looking adults, and wavey children, because the noise is in your ears, always. It's exhilarating. And like nothing you can experience in western europe train travel anymore, where you are disconnected as much as possible from everything. We enter our little silent travel pods, spend a while texting, eat our pre-bought packaged sterile chicken salad sandwich and our chocolate treat that we've been aching to open since the journey began, listen to our solid state illegally acquired pop music, play a mobile phone game or two, even do internetty things on our portable computer lapmachines, possibly exchange small talk with neighbours, maybe occasionally glance out of the window, read the paper, do a puzzle, nip to the loo (though not whilst at a station!), until we alight at our destination. Slightly better at freecell, and up to date with correspondence, but none the wiser on the little, important things that make the world interesting, eclectic, fascinating and generally brilliant. Trains are wonderful. Indian trains are wonderful-er. Ok, you might occasionally witness bathrooms with shit everywhere, a young girl vomming out of the window with gusto, men hocking up enthusiastically and phlegming on the floor, chai sellers alerting potential customers at an unreasonable 5 am with not entirely necessary ear splitting yells, cockroaches on your face in the dead of night, and other frustrations, but my god, it's great to have the CHOICE to travel in the slightly sterile AC classes or the living, breathing Sleeper Class. (the pomposity of personifying a train class. Apologies.) As opposed to only the sterile option in England.
Preaching travellers are seldom not annoying. Not only because what is being said is usually exaggerated or warped in some way or another, but because it is nearly always being said from an unrealistic perspective. Travellers by their very definition are travelling, which basically means they are on holiday, albeit a more 'hardcore' holiday, not living in the country of visitation. Things always have to be better or worse on holiday, just so when you return you can have an opinion and sound worldly. And just like a hoildayer can't wait to show photos and complain about the lack of chips, a certain kind of traveller cant wait to preach. So please, this is not a - 'you simply must experience train travel in india, it's an unforgettable kasldjnfkjsdf et la de da', this is a - 'it's nice to feel in charge of the choices you make and not have everything decided for you, nice to feel in touch with a small part of the world, nice to not have to rely on a mobile communication device for sensory stimulation, nice to experience different things'. That went on a bit longer than expected.
The ticketing of train travel. This is the most flummoxing aspect of the trainal system. So, different authorities receive a quota of tickets to sell. Some for online selling, some for selling at particular stations but not at other stations, some for tourist information shops, some for travel agencies, there's a tourist quota, an emergency quota, a reserve quota and heaps of other quotas(?).
Right. How do you get your hands on them? Well. We still don't fully know. BUT, generally what has worked in the past is we go to the chaotic reservation area in a large city station (usually separate from the station itself) and fill in a form after trying to locate said form for a good chunk of time.
The form asks for the train name and train number (which you can only find out after queueing for a good chunk of time), which station you will be getting on/off, date of travel, class of travel in order of preference, name, sex, date of birth of each passenger, whether you are a doctor, whether you want to be entitled to a free upgrade (?), address and phone in uk, address and phone in india (?) and finally signature, and date of signature. Then you queue for a good chunk of time, all the while battling for your position in the queue, and give in form. They then tell you one of a number of things:-
-'ok, that'll be xxx rupees' (ideal situation, but unfortunately quite rare)
-'there are no tickets in that class, i can give you another class' (expensive, but still a good comment to get)
-'there are no tickets, but i can give you a one on the waiting list' (there are always cancellations, so you get given a WL number, and find out if you've been successful on the day. Usually under 100 is a good position to be in. You could also in this case ask for a tadkal (emergency) ticket, which costs slightly more. Some trains dont have a tadkal quota though, and others sell out easily)
-'Full' (followed by shrug).
-'you have to pay for the whole journey if you want a ticket' (for example, if a popular train starts at point a and travels to point c, and you want to travel from point b to point c, you would have to pay from a to c, because that is how the quota is given to them)
-'go to counter number 94' (which could mean anything. Occasionally this has been wonderfully helpful, occasionally counter 94 doesn't exist)
-'Haha' (usually followed by something like 'you need to book 3 months in advance for this train')
Some mega-stations have a tourist counter, which is just froody. It lubricates the complex mission hugely, but still occasionally leads to a no ticket situation, especially if heading off the beaten path.
One time we three were in Putrid Patna, and i shall indulge the ticket situation to you when we get there in a week. It was interesting, and we concluded that if you just HAPPEN to meet the right person, then it's possible to get any train ticket, even one that 'you need to book 3 months in advance'.
Also, on the subject of quota distribution, it is apparently used as a subtle method of weakening a population that appears to be revolting in some way or another. For example, where we are heading now there is the Gorkha movement, trying to create a separate state 'Gorkhaland'. So the government gives them a very small quota on the major trains leaving the area, meaning the population constantly feels repressed, trapped and helpless. Clever.
This is all very complicated. Just when i think it cant get more complicated, it does. But, it works, for better or for worse. 21 million seats a day around the country successfully distributed.
The reason for getting so deep into this isssss that although there were absolutely no tickets for the first leg to Guwahati, the helpful man we met in Kohora knew a man who knew someone who could get us 3 tickets on the second leg. So alls we needed to do was get to Guwahati. Now, the last night bus gets in too late to catch a 6 am train, and the bus before the night buses gets in at 1am. So we said 'Fuck It' over a decision making chai meeting and decided to get a car to Guwahati. The price difference was minimal, and it meant we could leave late in the evening, have more time at Behora, and arrive with enough time to meet our ticket tout. Also it meant we could avoid another bumpy bumpy bus ride.
So we did that.
After watching an intense cricket game, which was a huge community event. The usual serenity of cricket was disturbed by the ever so distracting generator BRRMMMMMM.
We stopped a few times for night time chai, whilst the driver had a nap.
Not going to lie, he might've had a tendency to break wind during sleep. Entering the car after the breaks was not pleasant. Sam created a catchy little tune, the only lyrics being 'This car smells of fart'.
Indeed.
One of the chai breaks we witnessed a very drunk 13ish year old play the fool once too often and piss off a strange older man. Who threw a big jug of water in a fit of rage (not sure if it was jocular rage or not) in the drunk kids general direction. It missed him, and hit another guy. It was entertaining.
We also stopped for a theatrical performance of a Hanuman Fable. Hanuman is the Hindu warrior monkey god. And there was a play on. At 00.30. For children. Not sure what the craic was with the time of showing. Surely a matinee would've been more suitable. But there you go. There we ran into a reporter for the Assam Spectator or something newspapery sounding. We did an interview before our driver suddenly decided it was time to go. So maybe we are in a newspaper article somewhere in Assam. That was a surreal stop.
Bloody hell, it's only 5am in this tale of Day 8. Perhaps a break is in order. Yes. Signing off.
Quilliam Bruvaz
Monday 2 August 2010
Website officially official
Today was lovely. So many nice people everywhere. Molto Thankyou Evereebodee.
Mega Cake Selection:
Ma's Fruit cake
Chocolate Brownies
Weener's Rocky Road
Tina's Heinous Chocolate Cake
Courgette Cake (Zucchini to all you funny speakers)
Chocolate Cookies
Sharon's Banana Cake
Bev's Mega Scones
Lemon Tart
Apricot Cake
Rocky Road won the 'most ridiculous cake' award, with it's fantastic combination of mars bars, maltesers, marshmallows and apricots. So well done there. And as ever, Sharon's Banana Cake delivered the goods. Thanks so much everyone who baked.
And that was all washed down with litres and litres of Brew. Pats lemon and ginger iced tea was on offer, as was a big vat of chai.
We broadcasted every minute of the NoN sToP action via LIVE VIDOCULAR STREAMS (not the wet kind) so thanks for watching, those who did. At one point we had a massive 6 (yes, 6!) viewers.
So, indeed, whoop dee doo, the website is running.
www.quilliambrothers.com is now open for trade, and those UK-ers amongst can purchase to your hearts content. You foreigners will be able to purchase in the future. So stay tuned. Or, nip to another channel for a bit, but set a reminder to come back a bit later on. But please don't get engrossed in another, better programme/show and forget about us.
Thankyou for your kind words, thankyou for your wonderful cards, thankyou for your support, and thankyou Miss S H for the bubbly.
Spread the word, please.
The furry mouthed, sugar high-ed, savoury craving, Quilliam Siblings.
P.S Click here for wonderful-ness
Mega Cake Selection:
Ma's Fruit cake
Chocolate Brownies
Weener's Rocky Road
Tina's Heinous Chocolate Cake
Courgette Cake (Zucchini to all you funny speakers)
Chocolate Cookies
Sharon's Banana Cake
Bev's Mega Scones
Lemon Tart
Apricot Cake
Rocky Road won the 'most ridiculous cake' award, with it's fantastic combination of mars bars, maltesers, marshmallows and apricots. So well done there. And as ever, Sharon's Banana Cake delivered the goods. Thanks so much everyone who baked.
And that was all washed down with litres and litres of Brew. Pats lemon and ginger iced tea was on offer, as was a big vat of chai.
We broadcasted every minute of the NoN sToP action via LIVE VIDOCULAR STREAMS (not the wet kind) so thanks for watching, those who did. At one point we had a massive 6 (yes, 6!) viewers.
So, indeed, whoop dee doo, the website is running.
www.quilliambrothers.com is now open for trade, and those UK-ers amongst can purchase to your hearts content. You foreigners will be able to purchase in the future. So stay tuned. Or, nip to another channel for a bit, but set a reminder to come back a bit later on. But please don't get engrossed in another, better programme/show and forget about us.
Thankyou for your kind words, thankyou for your wonderful cards, thankyou for your support, and thankyou Miss S H for the bubbly.
Spread the word, please.
The furry mouthed, sugar high-ed, savoury craving, Quilliam Siblings.
P.S Click here for wonderful-ness
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