Saint Vitus and Orange Goblin

Orange by name

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did attend the Concert of Orange Goblin and Saint Vitus, on 29 October, at Heaven under the Arches at Charing Cross. I have not previously attended this venue, the  brickwork and arches striking me as most suitable for darker sounds and certainly much preferable to the O2 Islington. Heavy Metal is not the most subtle of art forms, and Orange Goblin are not its most delicate proponents, but for some basic driving rock they performed the business, though I rather preferred the simple dirge of Serpent Venom preceding them.

Washed out

Saint Vitus seemed old in a very literal sense and their doom lacked any clear riffs or themes; I have a few of their records and cannot really remember anything from them either. I liked more their Shrinebuilder project, which did seem to build to some more structured pieces.  The singer implored the people never to sell out, indeed I gather he was expelled from Europe shortly afterwards, so clearly adheres to that philosophy, though on the basis of this gig Melachi is not sure his absence from these shores will be a great loss.

Kikoru Country Kitchen, Kisumu

Ugale, ugale everywhere

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, ate at the Kikoru Country Kitchen restaurant, opposite the Imperial Hotel in Kisumu, in February 2014, as there seemed few other options near my hotel and it was getting dark. The gentleman who seated me seemed surprised that I intended to sit before selecting my food from the menu. I ordered "wet chicken with ugale" which he said was a local speciality, with mango juice. The juice arrived soon and was thick and tasty. The main arrived a respectable time later and included something like spinach. The chicken was only an arm and small breast, topped with a stew of some vegetables with sauce and tasty enough, though the bird itself a mite dry and scrawny. The ugale was copious (he said it was from maize) but very dense. When the sauce was used up I found it too dry to eat and had to leave two thirds of it. The cost including the drink was 500KSH (about £4). All half dozen tables were full when I left, which Melachi thinks is as it should be.

Aga Khan Palace, Pune, India

Shrine

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Aga Khan Palace in the North of Pune, India, in November 2014, arriving by Rickshaw (100r), a fairly modern pavilion-type building where Ghandi was detained for some time, in unremarkable grounds. Entry was 200r which allowed the viewing of a few rooms of faded photographs and a couple of nice statues marked "do not touch". I did not know Mahatma well, but I have no doubt he would have approved of children not touching his statue. There was also a barely kept shrine. For Gandhi completists only.

Narcopolis

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Jeet Thayil's novel "Narcopolis" (2012), finishing it on the train to Bangalore. It describes the challenge 70s Pakistani powder posed to the notorious Bombay opium dens, which are, consequently, now hard for even the most dodgy of local guides to track down. The narrative drifts around the denizens, and some sections are tangential even to that. There is a plot and a final twist. But, finally, not much matters in a opium den.

Facing the Congo

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read "Facing the Congo" by Jeffrey Tayler (2000), in October 2014, mainly on the Northern Line. It is the story of his trip down the Congo from Kisangani in a local canoe. I was a bit puzzled to find myself halfway through the book without him having stepped in the canoe, but the mystery is solved if you paddle through to the end! He has a taste for the purple sentence, the first of the book being "The squawks of parrots filtered down into the black well of sleep and slowly called me up into the lighter realms of wakefulness", which is all you need to know, really. And there is occasional pontification, concluding: "I had exploited Zaire as a playground on which to solve my own rich-boy existential dilemmas". Well, there are worse ways to exploit Zaire. But it is not all that bad, with some great characters (I would have liked to know more about the "Colonel") and in fact gets quite exciting towards the end!

Mysore Palace, India

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, did visit the Mysore Palace, in Mysore, India, in November 2014. Waiting politely in the queue will not get you a ticket to this palace, one must advance determinedly using the body to block attempts by the Indians to thrust their money through the little hole ahead of you. Fortunately, I had already learned this technique at the railway counter in Pune. Inside the site is quite pleasant, with a fine parade ground. The palace itself is a monstrosity, built by a British architect doubtless laughing at his client's taste. I could not hear the commentary on the portable player I was given due to the extreme number and volume of Indians trooping briskly round, whose chatter echoed around the marble rooms and corridors; the women in saris, and the men dressed like motorcycle mechanics. There was another museum near the elephants round the back for an additional fee, but I, Melachi, gave it a pass.

National Hotel, Pune, India

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did stay at the National Hotel, in Pune, in October 2014, as I arrived late and it was near the station and in the Lonely Planet guide. The building is a tired "colonial mansion" incongruously behind a row of stores, with an aura of the Bates Motel. Inside, I was shown a "garden" cottage behind the mansion, which I rejected due to the Great Man Size Hole in the chicken wire above the door (the only air) and a mattress in an inappropriate condition (600r). I accepted one on the first floor, which was huge, but had no window at all but a small gap above the door. Doubtless there is some Indian Logick to the provision of huge rooms and bathrooms without the provision of air, air conditioning, or windows. I, myself, do not follow it, though with the fan it was still not that hot compared to Bombay. They provided a towel and soap (which is more than I got in most other places). The bed was very hard and the room, as one might expect without a window, very damp. The paint bulged off the walls as though Pollock had been an early resident. There was a TV but I did not try it. In the morning I ordered a breakfast which was delivered after much shouting and lack of napkins.

Late afternoon I, Melachi, sat on the balcony having spent the day walking around the dismal town which at every turn disintegrates into glutinous dual carriageways of course without pavements and contemplated -- with Mr Kingfisher bought from a shop to the left of the entrance at 110r for 660l -- the driving rain, muddy grounds and sick palm trees to the endless hooting of horns from the road, like the cicadas and birds of some tropical rainforest.

artworks in each room 

chest of drawers placed against door

Gokul Restaurant and Bar, Colaba, Mumbai

Not the healthy option

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did dine twice and drink an additional time at the Gokul restaurant in Colaba, behind the Taj Hotel, which I was told was the largest restaurant in Bombay. There are tables at the front and in the back is a large, crowded and very dark 2-floor air conditioned facility with smoking. The food was good, particularly the tandoori chicken, which was sufficiently moist. Rice is a separate dish. The first time I was here I had Kingfisher Premium mild (220r) the second Kingfisher Strong which is about 8% and has a more bitter taste, but not in a nice way so I would recommend the mild, which I later found was cheaper in Goa (about 110r). Of course there was no much point in asking for anything other than Kingfisher. On the TV they played a strange cricket with a white ball and coloured clothes, though at a ground earlier in the day I had seen many hundreds of people dutifully playing in white. In fact, many hotels also showed this coloured cricket, and it might be worth studying if planning an extended stay. The other diners were mainly groups of younger men, not very friendly though quite peaceable.

Tribal museum, Pune

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did visit the Tribal Museum in Pune, India, in October 2014. It is a pleasant collection of tribal artefacts in half a dozen rooms of a non-descript building not far from a railway bridge where dedicated people recycle things. No other tribal people are present. The items themselves are quite similar to African ones (masks, fishing traps, combs), as indeed found in the museum of the Lao people I recently visited in Kisumu, Kenya. There is no information given on the historical context of the tribes (i.e. what is known about their history, who ruled them, how they managed in the colonial and modern periods) other than a map with population numbers (or even if these went up or down). The entrance fee for foreigners is 200r, which, in the grand scheme of things is not too much, but is rather high for this, especially as there was nowhere to get a cup of coffee, although it was raining.