High as a kite

Arriving in Ahmedabad

As expected, but as clichéd as it sounds, landing in Mumbai is an eye-opener. Slums occupy a huge amount of the city, but are broken up by pockets of desolate apartment blocks and half-finished high-rises. We’ve had to slash Mumbai from our itinerary to fit Illam and the kite festival in, so when we land in Slum City en route to Ahmedabad, we hope they’ll let us off the plane, so we can at least say we stood on Mumbai soil. Considering our surroundings, it’s completely inappropriate to say we’re “starving”, but the other reason we want to get off the plane is that we’d love a feed; breakfast was hours ago.

Pete asks if I reckon Mumbai Airport will have a McDonald’s, and I respond with a very disapproving look, lips pursed (we haven’t caved and had Western takeaway food yet). He reminds me he’s one up on me after he had a masala dosai and sambar for breakfast the other morning when I opted for jam and toast. Defeated, I finally agree he can give Maccas a go, provided he has a Chicken Maharaja-Mac, a BigSpicy Paneer wrap or something strictly Indian. His hopes are dashed, though, when the airhostess announces (first in Hindi, then in Tamil, and lastly in English) that we’re to stay put.

As I flick a text to my sister, I glance over and see Pete googling “McDonald’s Ahmedabad” on his iPhone. Snapped. Apparently there are three McDonald’s restaurants in the city, but Ahmedabad has a huge range of well-regarded eateries (actually, more than half of the top 20 things to do in Ahmedabad are cafes or restaurants), so I think we’ll try and steer clear of the golden arches. We arrive at a much more glamorous airport than Chennai, and read up on Ahmedabad in our taxi into the city – the highlight of which is yet another jaw-dropping red sunset. Apparently Ahmedabad is the fifth largest city in India, and has a metropolitan population of 6.4 million. According to Wikipedia, Forbes magazine rated Ahmedabad as the fastest-growing city in India and the third-fastest in the world, in 2010.

On the way to our hotel, we spot some kites in the air, and work out our plan of action for the kite festival, known here as Utturayan. In light of the day being a national holiday, and with many of the city’s attractions being closed, Barn sets us a challenge for how we’re to spend Utturayan. “We need to do some serious friending,” he declares. “Imagine how much more amazing it would be if we’re invited up onto a roof to fly kites with an Indian family!” I tell Barn I’m quite good at befriending people, and get slated for it by some of my workmates – one in particular, who I think is mildly envious of my superior BFFing skills (just kidding, Gemma). The challenge Barn sets is quite specific; his preference is for an Indian family with the following: “At least one elderly, just for character, a couple of small children, and someone our age – or late teens.

Rooftop dining at House of MG

Challenge accepted, our taxi pulls up at Hotel Volga, which isn’t as uncouth as its name suggests, even though a dog promptly vomits on the doormat outside shortly after we arrive. We’re shown a selection of reasonably priced rooms, and regrettably turn down the one with the 1970s circular double bed, choosing a twin room with air-con, but no external windows. The boy who collects our bags and shows us to our room empties three-quarters of a can of asphyxiating lemon air freshener into the windowless room before we can stop him. He asks where we’re from, and when we say “New Zealand”, he smiles and says, “Stephen Fleming”. What is it with Indians and Stephen Fleming? A quick google tells me he played in the Indian Premier League in 2008, something I’d no doubt have known, had I had brothers instead of sisters.

We’d made a dinner booking at the city’s “House of MG” (officially called The House of Mangaldas Girdhardas), a beautiful heritage mansion converted into a hotel and famed for its three-course Gujurati Thali meals. Upon arrival, we’re greeted by the assistant manager of guest relations, who had responded to my earlier email with “Dear Mr Rebecca Kennedy” (I think I almost prefer Rrrrooopka to Mr Rebecca) and we confirm that yes, we’ll go for the deluxe dining experience over the regular one. We’re going all out, splashing 600 rupees each ($15).

Agashiye - Ahmedabad's best dining experience

Lonely Planet promises that Agashiye is Ahmedabad’s best dining experience – a claim that turns out to totally deserved. I’d go as far as saying it’s the best dining experience I’ve ever had, anywhere, but admittedly I’m still waiting for an invite to dinner at Logan Brown, so I don’t have much to compare it to. We’re served drinks and traditional Gujurati canapés of Dalvada (deep-fried dumplings) and Dohkla (steamed split beans/rice cakes) as soon as we reach the terrace, and are then escorted to a candle-lit area with fairylights and outdoor fireplaces overlooking the city.

Patang (Kite) Markets

We’re served our main course (countless delicious vegetarian dishes such as Sarson Da Saag (green vegetables and mustard leaves), Paneer Bhurji (mixed vegetables and scrambled cottage cheese), breads, curries, and rice) by more than 10 chefs who roam the rooftop refilling our plates as soon as we’ve finished each mouthful. When we beg them to stop, they clear our dishes and serve dessert of dried fruits, stuffed betel leaves (that we’re not overly sold on), home-made chocolates, and coffee. After dinner, we brave the Patang Markets, where all the kites are sold. It's lovely to see all the brilliant colours of the kites, but it's less lovely to be jammed up against with thousands upon thousands of others and be groped by teenage boys; we get out of there as soon as we make it to the other end of the street.

The next morning, I pass up Barn’s offer to join him for a 6am sunrise walk – even though I really should after last night’s dinner – and have a much-needed sleep in. In my defence, it is a Saturday, and travelling really does take its toll. In preparation for tackling Utturayan, we have a late breakfast at a more casual café, The Green House, at the front of the House of MG, and go over the befriending strategy.

Adalaj Stepwell

Jumping in an autorickshaw, we head over to the other side of Ahmedabad and visit the Law Garden, opposite the city’s Law Society, and then wander the streets (passing one full of huge monkeys slung over front gates and in windows of people’s homes). We make our way to a Hindu water building called the Adalaj Stepwell, built in 1499 for Queen Rani Roopba (now I know why they all think my name is something like that). It goes five storeys underground, and our rickshaw driver happily takes us down and shows us inside. Pete takes a look at the mosque next door (“not woman allowed”), and I crane my head in search of kites. We shake off our rickshaw driver who doesn’t understand why we’d want to go for a walk around the area, and the BFFing begins.

We look up and see crowds of people gathered on the rooftop of an apartment block. They smile and we smile back. They wave; we wave back. They motion for us to come upstairs. We look at each other and nod – our strategy is going perfectly to plan – “Textbook friending,” Barn says.

The wave that got us invited up to the rooftop

The rest is history – we climb four flights of stairs to the top, and are instantly mobbed by the dozens of extended family members gathered there for Utturayan celebrations. Kites, food, drinks. We’re offered beer and whiskey, despite Gujurat being a dry state. I politely refuse, but Barn has a Pepsi and Whiskey, followed by a straight whiskey when the Pepsi runs out.

The women crowd around me, the men around Barn. We watch them fly kites, we fly kites. We chat to them, meet their cousins, wives, daughters, sons, brothers, sisters and neighbours. I’m handed a child to hold for a photograph, then another. Suddenly there are many little Indian children hanging off me and I’m posing for photograph after photograph on their mothers’ mobile phones. We’re fed traditional Utturayan sweets of peanut brittle, caramel-flavoured sesame seed treats and something made with rice bubbles.

Kite Festival-goers handing me their children for photos

We’re introduced to the best friend of the man of the house (who’s getting quite tispy by this stage and actually declares Barn his new best friend). The original best friend happens to have lived in Christchurch for the past 10 years, running a Guthrie Bowron store there, so we chat to him about New Zealand, and he helps us book another highly recommended restaurant for dinner, despite the family’s protestations that “Peeeeterrrr and Rrruuupeka” stay to share a meal with them.

Exhausted from all the activity, we bid the family farewell (which takes longer than saying goodbye to all the cousins at a Hallagan/Kennedy family do back home – no mean feat, as anyone who’s experienced a Waipukapalooza or Chinese Banquet at Box Hill would know).

Ahmedabad family and their new 'best friends'

I’m not quite game enough to negotiate the traffic on foot around here, but Barn braves it and heads out for a run along the river, while I spend the rest of the afternoon back at The Green House café listening to the cacophonous traffic trying to out-do the wailing of sunset prayers at the mosque. I sip lime sodas and order more of the patra steamed leaf snacks we enjoyed last night, so content in the knowledge that we nailed the Utturayan experience that I can’t wipe the goofy grin on my face. Anyone would think I’m high as a kite.



Our rooftop home for Utturayan