6thJanuary 2005 – Gokana to Mangalore 5 hours

The journey from Gokana to Mangalore was on a local train, a local train, how is it classed as a local train for a 5 hour journey is anybodies guess. It’s like sitting on the Metropolitan line tube (but replacing the bouncy seats with wooden seats covered in plastic in the height of summer) for 5 hours. After 4 hours my arse felt like it had been whacked with a cricket bat at east 100 times (I imagine that’s how it feels) We all got excited and had our cameras ready when we thought we heard our train arriving was a steam train but no it was a diesel heap. The views of the sun setting throwing a red glow over the backwaters of southern India were breathtaking so that makes it all worth it.
Well I think I am finally able to put my travelers goggles on. Our room was spacious, patched up walls, rotting woodwork and some uninvited guests (cockroaches). With my goggles on I can still see the faults but find it acceptable, if I was on a 2-week holiday you can forget it.
Our first impressions of Mangalore were that it is a really friendly city. I am getting quite comfortable saying hello to everybody on the street. We had a very informative tour of a temple and an interesting walk around the local neighborhoods. Well here comes our highlight, buffalo surfing. The season runs from December to March and takes place every weekend. This is the 20th year this particular event has been running. It starts on Saturday morning with the junior buffalo heats and progresses to the seniors, which are big buggers, let me tell you. This then carries on throughout the night. God the Indians are hardcore. There are two dugout tracks filled high with about 250mm of water, 120m long. The two pairs of buffalos are lined up, with as much drama and chaos as you would expect, at the start and a built up muscular Indian man runs or surfs behind the buffalo. A pair of good buffalos can cost Rs800, 000 (10,000), these animals are treated like thorough bred horses. Only in India!
We were the only westerners amongst a crowd of quite a few thousand Indians. So when we got talking to the organizers of he event, called the Sun and Moon, we were invited to sit up in the equivalents of the VIP enclosure which was situated above the finishing line with the best views in town. We jumped on two local buses to get to the event, which, as normal, was a white-knuckle ride. Apparently the bus drivers in India get fined if they arrive at the final destination late. Also they get a cut of the fares so the more people they get on the bus the better his day’s wages. So this involves curb crawling through the main town to get as many people on and then flooring it for the rest of the time to arrive. ARHHHHH! (Mum erase this thought from your brain)