Guests are god

Scary puppets, scarier puppeteer

It's not often that the best dining experience of your life is outdone the very next evening. But it happens to us in Ahmedabad. All the tourism websites say that dinner at Vishalla, a 5km rickshaw ride away from Hotel Volga, is a must-do.

Like the Agashiye last night, this restaurant displays a number of The Times of India awards in its candlelit entranceway. We pay the set menu price for dinner at the outdoor restaurant, and are told there'll be a 40-minute wait. Forty minutes almost isn't long enough, as the grounds of Vishalla are fascinating. The area is huge, and set up like a traditional Gujurati village, dotted with fireplaces and smoky with incense that almost overpowers the thick smog that’s enveloping the city this evening.

According to its website, the place is “fit for the purpose, owing to the vastness in the ambience and immense relaxation it offers”. Apparently, the restaurant got its name from a book in which Vishalla is a meditation place: “The name caught the sensitive eyes of Mr Patel [the restaurateur], as it related to his vision for the restaurant – a place to have home-like food in a relaxed atmosphere and free mind.”

Dining at Vishalla

We stop by some of the cultural performances going on in the grounds of Vishalla; one’s a puppet show reminiscent of Czech Marionette dolls (albeit slightly more frightening – at one point a puppet snake is flung into the children in front. Very Brothers Grimm). We sit around one of the many fireplaces in the grounds and listen to drummers and bell-ringers, drinking the lemon and ginger juice we're presented when we walk in. I can't help but think that the only thing that would improve this experience would be a shot of vodka in my juice in this dry state. I must be turning into my parents, who managed to pass off their glasses of Lindauer as sparkling grape juice at my 7th form leavers’ ball.

We're called for dinner at 9.30, and are invited to sit cross-legged on mats underneath low tables. A dozen waiters swarm our table and present the most incredible selection of dishes and condiments on top of plates made of banana leaves beautifully sewn together. It is a work of art. A very, very delicious work of art. Like last night, they just keep returning: “More chapathi, madam? More sambar? More dahl?” The meal finishes with more of the caramel sesame seed treats we’d tried earlier, and a bowl of pistachio-flavoured ice-cream, rendering us almost too stuffed to shuffle back to a rickshaw to get home. But shuffle we do, with bed in mind – there’s nothing quite like a Christmas Day-style food coma.

Sunrise in Ahmedabad after the first day of Utturayan

The next morning, still feeling high as kites after our authentic Utturayan experience and five-star thali the previous night, a very rare thing happens. The world’s most notorious not-a-morning-person person (me) suggests a pre-breakfast walking tour of Ahmedabad. Pre-breakfast, pre-coffee, even. Hard to believe, I know.

The walking tour takes us through the heritage area of the city, and along some of the Pols (streets) and Kanchos and Khadis (small streets/lanes). We wander the pols, through secret doors and shortcuts, and come across book markets and plenty of jewellers – Ahmedabad has one of the largest jewellery markets in India. We also pass by a huge number of temples, and our tour guide tells us that in the 600 pols, there are an incredible 1600 temples. The ornate temple we visit is decorated with swastikas, which we’re told are a symbol of the Hindu faith, as well as Jainsim - a religion that promotes non-violence to all living things. Swastikas and non-violence? Seems a little ironic.

Getting lucky, Gujurati style

Also on our tour are a lovely Indian family, a father, mother and daughter who are visiting from another city in Gujurat. The father is an orthopaedic surgeon, and the daughter is following her dad’s footsteps and is in her first year of medical school. Along the way, they buy us chai, help with translation and tell us more about Gujurat. When we see cows being fed and ask whose responsibility it is to look after the thousands of them that roam the streets, the Gujurati family take us over and buy some grass for us to feed the cows with – apparently it’s very good luck to feed a cow on a birthday or other auspicious occasion. Well, it’s not every day you’re in Ahmedabad at Utturayan.

We visit the stunning (and mammoth) Masjid-e-Nagina mosque – the second largest in India, where 10,000 Muslims come to worship every Friday. Interestingly, the mosque’s interior design and architecture includes elements of other religions, and it even displays some of the Hindu/Jain swastikas we saw earlier. The orthopaedic surgeon tells us the man who established the mosque was very liberal, and liberalism at the mosque continues today – amazingly, there’s even a place for women to worship. Very progressive.

Speaking and hearing no evil at Mahatma Gandhi's Ashram

After the enlightening walking tour, we head across the bridge to the Petang Tower in search of breakfast, but the menu is Indian only. I’ve been embracing Indian food for lunch and dinner, but I draw the line at pre-midday chili. We walk on, and a short time later I make an elementary mistake. Walking with my head down to avoid the human faeces underfoot, I forget to look up for a short time and smash my head at full pace into a tree overhead. Searing pain ensues. I still don’t have my eggs for breakfast, but there’s now a large one on my head. India 101 – not only look both ways, but look up, down and all around at all times.

In the afternoon, we’re tempted to abandon the idea of visiting any other tourist attractions, but eventually decide on visiting Mahatma Gandhi’s Ashram. I’m so glad we do, as it’s one of the most fascinating places we’ve visited so far. We spend the afternoon reading about Gandhi’s many principles and beliefs, and learning more about his “non-cooperation” movement and his practice of non-violence.

There’s not enough time to take all of Ghandi’s teachings in, but I promise myself I’ll find out more about his work when I’m home. Barn buys a biography and I buy a quote book for my brother-in-law, before we head to the pentagonal lake on the other side of the city, which is packed with Indian families celebrating the public holiday.

More kite flying in Ahmedabad

It’s nearly time to head to the airport for our flight to Delhi, and on our way to the rickshaw, we get more waves from families flying kites on their rooftops. One calls down to us to come and join them, and initially I’m not sold. We’ve done the rooftop thing already and should get to the airport pronto to go through the rigmarole of checking in for domestic flights in India – it’s no Air New Zealand self-check-in and baggage drop system. But Barn convinces me otherwise, and it turns out to be sensational. The sky is bluer than yesterday, and kites flood the skies. We’re now the new best friends (and Facebook friends) of another Indian family who teach us to fly kites, offer us masala fizz and beg us to stay for dinner on their rooftop, which is pumping Indian beats across the neighbouring rooftops from a huge speaker.

Pre-E.coli: "I love India 2012"

We eventually have to take our leave, but exchange email addresses and phone numbers. Soon afterwards, Barn gets a text from Darpan, the 20-something-year-old civil engineering student of the family, saying: “Ya, we enjoyed the day but we were missing you guys. I would be pleased if you come to my home for a spicy Indian dinner, and give my love to beautiful lady Rebacca.”

We’ve had an incredible time in Ahmedabad and been welcomed so warmly into people’s homes. The rest of Darpan's text sums it up perfectly, by saying: “And don’t say thanks to me, as we Indians always treat guests that way… ‘Atithi devo bhava’ – it means guests are god.” 

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