So now we’re back from the run, having managed 1 half-baked update between us in the whole 3 weeks we were away, I guess it’s about time we got our arses into gear and wrote something. It’s hard to know where to start though, because so much happened in that time. I suppose going from the beginning wouldn’t be a bad way to approach it…

Back on 28^th December 2007, Megha and I, having made somewhere between little and no preparation, embarked on the most dangerous and death-defying trip of our lives. Prior to taking part in the Rickshaw Run we had joked about the possibilities of death and mortal injury, but had never really taken them that seriously. Little did we know that, in less than a week, our whole perspective on life would change as a result of being within inches of experiencing the end of it. But more of that later.

The first 2 days are the tale of a train journey. So, in fact, it’s not much of a tale at all. We sat on a train for nigh on 48 hours and watched the world go by. Although that sounds kind of boring the time seemed to fly. It’s amazing how you can keep yourself entertained while sitting on the steps of a train. Playing ‘I spy’; watching people squat at the side of the rail track and guessing whether it was number 1 or number 2; looking at breasts made of hay and deciding which had the nicest shape; jumping off the train when it stopped, but not at a station, and only getting back on when it started moving. When you consider all these activities, it’s hard to deny it was a special journey. It was so much fun!

It was Megha’s first time in South India and immediately on arriving in Kochi that morning she made an interesting discovery. The people couldn’t understand what she said. As is the norm when we approach an auto-rickshaw driver, she explained to him where we wanted to go in Hindi. In Delhi it is guaranteed that they will comprehend what is being said, but here in Kerala most locals were utterly non-plussed whenever Hindi was used. In the four southernmost states of India everyone speaks their local language and many also have a good grasp of English. However, it still seemed a little strange that someone who speaks the official Indian national language was unable to communicate with a large portion of the population.

As it turned out, our particular rickshaw driver spoke reasonable English, so with his help we were able to find a pretty decent guest house. Home cooked food was the order of the day, so following the removal of 2 days of bodily dirt and a quick change of clothes, we put in our request for a chicken curry dinner and headed off to explore the vicinity. Our first stop was, not surprisingly for those who know me, a restaurant. As soon as we sat down something seemed familiar, but I wasn’t sure why. Then I remembered having been at the same eating place 2 years earlier. I probably would have been oblivious to this fact, but on seeing the waiter carrying a teapot my memory was jogged. ‘Special Tea’. That was it. This was the place that served beer in a teapot. It was a foolproof plan to allow their clientele to drink alcohol without having to buy a licence. There is no way the police would ever discover.

Before our food arrived we noticed a group of six other youngish foreigners sat at a table nearby. Catching bits of their conversation we heard “…off a cliff…”, “…could die…” and “…get her on 2 wheels going round a hairpin bend…” and gathered that they might also be here for the longest ever Rickshaw Run. On introducing ourselves we discovered they were teams Kangasutra 1 and 2 – a well-oiled unit made up of six Aussies. Whether or not the last half of that sentence is a contradiction in terms is up for debate. Nevertheless, we had met the first of our rivals… I mean fellow participants. And we were glad we had. They had been in contact with lots of other teams and were arranging a pre-official party party that night. Would we like to go? Well, we’d consider it if we weren’t too tired!

But more on that next time…

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We’re currently sat in a hotel in a town called Tuni near the east coast of India. It’s our 4th full day on the road and we’ve covered over 1,500 km so far. Not bad, we feel, considering the auto-rickshaw has an absolute top speed of 60 km per hour.

Day 1 got off to a flying start for all the 65 teams involved in the event … except for us. All the brand new vehicles were purring like kittens, but somehow we managed to be given the one dud. We had noticed something was wrong pre-race, but whenever the experts were called over they claimed all was fine and that our driving was at fault. Even when we hurtled forwards and crashed into the rickshaw in front of us on the starting line everyone thought it was just a case of itchy accelerator finger rather than a genuine problem. As it turned out our vehicle was accelerating on its own and the brakes weren’t working properly. Not a good combination when two people are setting out to drive 5,000 km in a vehicle they have only ever spent 30 minutes in before. So, as we watched the other 65 teams trundle off into the distance we sat around for a few hours waiting for ‘major’ repairs to be carried out. All was well in the end and we set off cautiously into the hills.

Since then we’ve driven past all kinds of scenery – lush mountains, beautiful rivers, picturesque villages and sprawling plains. We’ve given gobsmacked locals a ride, performed somewhat risky overtaking manoeuvres and took one particular mountain bend on 2 wheels whilst just avoiding to fly off the cliff edge. There has also been the obligatory breakdowns for varying reasons.

Most days we are on the road for at least 12 hours, which doesn’t leave much time for writing blogs etc. So we’ll update again when we can.

Adventure, Rickshaw Run, India | 1 Comment »

Don’t worry. We are not going through a psychological period of confusion about our self worth as the title might suggest. And we are not turning into schizophrenics. Even though my continual use of the plural first person might imply otherwise. However, half of Stevie Wonder’s Driving School is starting to get a little anxious. Generally preparations for the Rickshaw Run have been going well. The entry fee has been paid; the paperwork has been sent off; 26% of the funds have been raised; we have looked at a list of stuff we might need; and have glanced at a big map of India. What more can possibly need to be done at this stage??

Well, in the current state of play, 1 of our team members will be attempting to enter Nepal using an expired sports club membership card and a couple of hundred Rupees as baksheesh. This does not mean we are awaiting the legendary efficiency of the Indian government authorities to return a passport. No. It means that the necessary bumf required to acquire such a document has not yet even been placed into their oh-so-capable hands.

I’d love nothing better than to whinge about the bureaucracy of the powers that be and complain that they are not pulling their fingers out. But no doubt I will be able to do that once the paperwork has been sent off to them. I remember a fine, sunny day back in September, when Miss Kehar informed me that she had spent the afternoon completing her passport form. Overjoyed was I to hear this news. Yet, since that day, something has prevented her from taking the next step of placing the sheets of paper in an envelope and dropping it through a letter box.

Of course, everything will be fine, and her passport will surely be ready in the nick of time. But Megha would not be Megha unless she left it ‘til the very last minute and ended up making both herself and me panic.

Adventure, Rickshaw Run, Life, Travel, India | 3 Comments »

We’ve been doing some really serious planning for the Rickshaw Run thing lately.

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Megha: On Diwali and Holi, I am a kid on steroids

Andy: I was a kid at Holi, kitted out with full gun and ammunition

Andy: but last night I was the mature onlooker

Andy: that’s something we should get for our Rickshaw Run auto — a super soaker

Megha: Yes!

Megha: Let’s get a super soaker

Andy: not sure who we’d fire it at?

Andy: any little shits who give us grief I suppose

Megha: and bystanders

Megha: and traffic cops

Megha: and YOU!

Megha: and Naxalites in Bihar

Megha: that’ll scare them away

Andy: their automatic machine guns will be no match for the rapid squirt of water that we will emit

Megha: Of course not. Even thinking that it will be is foolhardiness and not optimism on their part.

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Sorted. We are packing the Super Soaker with the rest of our luggage

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