First week In India

Got to Bombay at 2am, was kinda late so I checked into the first hotel I saw, $38 a night but I was tired, slept for 14 hours.
Was far too late to get up and change hotels at 4pm so I had some food and wandered around Colbara, plenty of tourists. Saw the gateway to India and looked at some shops, drank some juice and went back to bed. 14 days of working and the hassle of getting my visa the day before had taken their toll.

Next day I got up too late to get a cheaper room again, they called from reception but i unplugged the phone. No do not disturb sign…
I looked at the map and went walking in Bombay, still not sure why they changed the name. Went north from Colbara, was interesting, walked for about 3 hours. Bought a few odds and ends, nothing exciting, was nice to get out and see a whole new city, a whole new country and for the people that lived there, their whole world.

Third lazy day, another walk, same punjabi thali in the same place, same people asking me to buy their stuff. I have to leave tomorrow, still not managed to wake up early enough to check out.

I get up in the morning!! I have a thali for breakfast somewhere new, I walk up to the train station so I know where it is and use my visa card to buy a ticket to Pune (no big queues but it costs me 40p for the privilege of swiping). I store my bags, bum around some more and go to get the train. Wasted time in Mumbai, too tired, too disorganized, but I’m in India…

Late train, sleep, go to big hotel, people call me sir but its cheap. I learn Brad and Angelina left Pune the same day back to Bombay, I was hoping to meet them for a drink. Next time. I explode my backpack and set up the washing line, the water temperature in the shower is too variable to enjoy.

Call Eric, para gliding instructor, he comes in the morning and sits chatting on his phone. Busy guy. We agree to start that afternoon, he gives me a lift to my new backpacker ghetto near the ashram, I find a cheap apartment and pull my jeans back on. Time to fly.

100 rupees for the majority of the way to the school, i get VJ to take me the rest of the way. Nice guy, works the phones all night for the Americans and flies in the day. Eric is on his phone, we drive out to some fields, hike a small hill, they test the wing and then we move 500m to a flat field. Pointless, I’m in my harness and hanging around. They hook me up, give me the spiel, run here, pull this, feel the wind. Up goes the glider and I pump my legs and keep it up, rinse repeat. They ask me if I’m tired but I keep saying ‘One more’. The sun sets and we stop.

The coannell give me a lift most of the way into town, its hot, dusty and dark. The streets are packed with people, no rickshaws but after an age we find one and I head back to coffee and cakes at the German bakery and sleep. I meet Doctor George in my apartment, he’s at the ashram, digs waking my up at 5am, Israeli Australian, nice guy. I sleep.

Up early for my proper lesson, boots, jeans, gloves, helmet, check… I try for a rickshaw, they want to know where, I don’t know, I know how to get there. We agree a price despite the lack of clear goals, he refuses the meter, its too early it seems. He throws me out 4/5 of the way, I pay and walk. Wave to the locals who never see tourists on this backwater farm track. Im late, Eric is on the phone, but we sort the paper work, sign the forms and head off to the bank. Guess they want me to pay.

1/2 drive to the hill, we try a new one, its too windy, its too late. Anandvitty, the assistant, tries a few tricks. I stand around confused. I read my book some more, not been told to read it but it seems like a good idea. They fall over, give up, Eric chats to some locals for ages while we pack the wing and wait. We’ll try again in the afternoon.

I rent a scooter, fuck the rickshaws, 100rp a day, 1.20. I meet Vanessa who rents the other room in my apartment, nice, interesting, married…
No problem getting to school on time, need to get there quick so we can drink tea and Eric can take calls. Im wondering when he will start to teach me. The 4 of us set off, the guys on the toll bridge wave in anger as we refuse to stop again, Eric knows the builder.

1km to the hill base and 200m up, out come to gliders and on go my gear. I’m told the 10 checks for safety, I get a radio, don’t forget to turn it off when told, those rechargeable batteries are valuable! I kind of understand where to try to land, I kind of understand how to land, I have to be ready to run and turn, flare and fold. Its all very interesting, I wonder if I will remember when I hit the ground.

I pull, up goes the wing and you can feel the wind lifting, pulling, trying to draw you up to the heavens, and what goes up must come down. I run on command, the hill drops away, my heart beats and … I’m flying. No engine, just gravity pulling me down and the wind trying to push me back up. My heart beats on, do I feel fear? Panic? Elation? (obviously!). None of these things, i hang in the air with only string and fabric between me and a fall to my death, my heart beats steadily as if its the most natural thing in the world.

I do a couple of turns when Eric tells me through the walkie talkie, but I can’t make out anything else he says other than ‘right’ and ‘left’ with the wind rushing past. I pick my spot, I think about landing, flare (pull both brakes), run, turn, collapse the glider… The landing field is where Eric wanted me, but its me that got there, I flare as I come in like they do on TV, I run but my brain gets confused and I dont turn. Its ok, the wing comes down anyway in a mess, Ive flown and landed safely and my heart rate didn’t change…

Local boys come running, expert packers and porters so I can get back up the hill quick. They want their 20 rupees, but they don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no’. Oh they understand well enough, but their constant attempts at ‘helping’ me only makes the job go slower. Will you be there when I’m flying in Europe I ask them, but they don’t understand, they want pocket money. Eventually I get it packed, Anandnitty comes down nearby and tells me he only pays 10rp for a porter. Its not that far up, ’10 minutes’ Eric says, I wonder when he last climbed it.

Back at the top i rehydrate and get set up again, its getting late, the sun will set soon. Last flight, and the first one took 2 minutes to get to the bottom. 4 days training, with one on the ground, so 3 x 2 flights, 6 flights for 100 pounds, at 2 minutes a time, 8 pound a minute or 500 pounds an hour? Not quite what I expect, is this cheap still? Carrying, packing, sitting in a jeep…

Next flight is also great, I get lifted up nearly right away, and hardly run. My heart beats slowly, I turn and glide down, no soaring for me, landing practice, always the fun parts…. not. I come in for the field a bit too long, my angle into the wind is ok, I flare ok and am on my feet but the wind is frisky, the glider pulls and I fall scraping my arm. T-shirt is not the best idea.

Thats it, ‘lesson’ over and I once again fight 4 boys off my glider to get it packed. The money is nothing, but am I learning or just being stubborn? I join VJ and Anandnitty who fy down after me and we walk around the hill and back to the house we left the jeep, 2 km or so. VJ is cool. Its dark now, Eric sits and talks on his mobile, we refuse the offer of chai and set off back to Eric’s house. An hour later I’m back in my apartment and wondering what I’ve let myself in for.

Up early next day to make it for the 7.30 am lesson, still jet lagged, still sleeping late, I sit waiting For Eric and reading my instruction book, Anandnitty is amazed that I’m half way through it already, he has never read it, although he says he doesn’t really read. We leave about 8.30, so much for getting up early and missing breakfast… The toll guards shout at us again, I laugh.

This time I have my camera and we have guest from up country. We park a bit closer to the hill and climb up together. There are 4 of us, Eric, myself and 2 guys from Northern India who are here to fly, or buy something, or test something, I never really understood exactly what. I think their gliders were delayed on the train or something so they were just checking out the terrain for later. Happily they have a new DVD video camera they are keen to test so they point it at me for 20 minutes as I prepare and perform my third flight. “Um, can I have a copy?” :p

I get kitted up and stick my camera on the front of my helmet, for a true eagle eye view of the trip down to the rice fields. Ready, set, go! This time I seem to lift, stall, drop, speed up, repeat. Doesn’t feel like a very smooth flight, perhaps its my complete lack of training on this aspect of flying. Eric shouts some instructions into the walkie talkie, but I can’t really hear him the wind is rushing past my ears too much. I guess he wants a few turns and I oblige, I turn left and follow the ridge, but I’m not climbing, just dropping steadily, I figure I’m a little too close to the hill and turn right, only I don’t turn, I just seem to stop and at this point I’m only 15 meters or so above the hillside, I start to drop, pick up some speed as I half figure I’m about to land on a steep hillside, with no training or idea of how to do it. Like an expendable action man on a home made tea towel parachute I swoop towards the ground… and keep going! I could have reached out and touched the flowers as I went past if I wasn’t so convinced I was about to crash.

My heart decides its time to rumble into life, if this lack of control is anything to go by the landing might require some adrenaline and natural pain-killers. Two turns and its nearly time to reacquaint myself with Terra Firma, I’ve only been up 40 seconds and I have to think about where I’m going to land. Not a very thrilling hobby, and I have the hike back up to look forward to. hmmmm. I spy out the target field and guesstimate how I’m gonna get there, ie can I turn a few more times, or do I need to head straight there. The problem is you have to land into the wind, and when trying to hit a tennis court sided field (because you don’t want to piss off the other farmers) with no really experience or idea of if this is possible, it means you’re busily doing complex physics calculations in your head with no calculator, while wondering if you’re going to survive the experience, trying to listen to the distorted instructions from the walkie talkie, scoping out trees you have to fly past (or through) to the target, thinking about the procedure for landing (out the seat, pull the brakes at 5m, run, turn, collapse…), aiming the camera on my helmet for youtube, checking the canopy…. basically its a bit of a head fuck. Not really the relaxing experience I was led to expect.

I glide in, time for a small turn which is a mistake because it lowers my speed, but I’m doing ok for the field… uh oh, whats that hut thing coming up?? Didn’t seem that from the top… going too slow… line of broken trees… never gonna clear them….have to go through… stalling… IM GOIN IN!! No time to think, have to land into the wind, I drift right, no time to turn, I do the best I can, I tag a small tree on my way past, nothing to be done, flare, run, back on the ground somehow. This time my heart is awake!

For my second run the wind isn’t blowing quite as hard or steadily as the previous day and when Eric says to go I run and run, right off the edge of the hill dropping as I go…. no lift, no wind!! I’m going down, the hills is sparsely dotted with spiny thorn bushes, really nasty things to get caught on as you struggle up the hills and I’m dropping right towards one, out of control at 15 mph! My chances of having children flash before my eyes, I put my feet together and kick my way through it! Despite this I gain some speed, i seem to go up a bit, at least I’m not dropping quite so fast. Its seems ok, but no gliding, no wind, its just a quick trip to the fields for this trip.

August 3, 2008 | Categories: India_2006 | Tags: amazement, ashram, backpack, beds, bombay, brakes, bridge, cards, drinks, ears, europe, flies, ghetto, hassle, huts, job, keen, laziness, locals, map, maps, mistake, money, possiblity, privilege, queues, seat, sleep, sun, thali, tourists, Travel, wanderings | Leave A Comment »