Yesterday morning driving from Arue along the northern coast and down the eastern coast to Taravao took us exactly 50 minutes. We were headed for Faratea — situated just before the town of Taravao if coming down the east coast — where local motor clubs had organised a drag racing day event.
Route from Arue to Taravao
With forty participating drivers and many cars on display, the event promised to be interesting, but we could watch only a few runs before we had to return to Arue.
Like earlier, we drove along the eastern coast and, even at a leisurely pace, were still able to make good time for our next engagement in Papeete.
Yesterday we walked around Papeete to see the colourful murals decorating many of the buildings in the capital. We had noticed them on a quick tour on the night when we landed in Tahiti.
Growing up in Mauritius where more than half of the population are of Indian descent and being used to Indo-Mauritian customs give you a sense of familiarity with India. Countless travel shows and documentaries, and the ability to google any information you need about the country further reinforce the sentiment. My trip to Hyderabad and New Delhi earlier this month taught me that India was much more than I had imagined.
When you’re there, India is about having spicy dishes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; it is about being bewildered by the cacophonous and chaotic flow of cars, motorcycles, auto-rickshaws, and pedestrians, and wondering how anyone managed to navigate that; and, it is about watching your Indian hosts use English to converse because India is so vast that they do not even speak the same language and that it will never be possible for you — a foreigner — to know India fully.
But India was not all new experiences. The hospitality, especially, was reminiscent of life in Mauritius: the casual way the hotel receptionist offered to walk three miles to the mall after her shift to make a purchase for me, the fact that our hosts kept turning up at 1.30 p.m. when we had agreed to meet at 12.30 p.m., and when we became worried about missing our flight because they insisted on making a detour for us to visit Taj Mahal followed by a night tour of New Delhi and a stop at the famous Haldiram’s for aloo paratha and butter milk.
I take a photo opportunity with a Jalebi sign in Haldiram’s for Priscilla, who loves “Lion”, a film in which the smell of fresh made Jalebi sets events in motion.We visit Haldiram’s during a tour of New Delhi to taste its renowned butter milk. Even that late in the night, the restaurant was serving an endless queue of patrons.The Taj Mahal meets the hype, especially seen in the morning sunlight.We enjoy some aloo pharata during a stop at a service station.
