Mumbai

My other trip this summer was to Mumbai. It was really just a fleeting encounter, but still made a big impression. I was only there for a matter of days, and most of that was spent in a lovely hotel, working.
Still, I managed to steal a few hours one afternoon to venture into the chaos of Mumbai.

The journey began by trying to hail a taxi that would take us to the south side of the city. A few refused, a few asked for extortionate amounts of money, so we eventually ended up taking an auto-rickshaw, which could take us as far as the edge of the city, and then we'd have to find a taxi to take us on from there.

The ride to the city limits was exciting to say the least. There was nothing to strap us in, nothing to stop us falling out, and at times it felt like we were riding with Steve McQueen in The Great Escape. Even so, the lack of windows and doors meant I had an unobstructed view into the surrounding areas, the slums, the barrows of fruit and vegetables, marshaled by children who were 6, maybe 7 years old.

We reached the limit of the auto-rickshaw's range, as they are not permitted into the city centre. Our driver found us a taxi that would take us the rest of the way to the Dhobi Ghat, our first destination. Turned out, he was a friend of the rickshaw driver, and agreed a decent price to get us to the now famous open air laundry.

'Rush' hour in Mumbai

The journey was slow, as we moved at a pedestrians pace through the city. I doubt if we topped 5 miles per hour through the whole journey. The city is chaotic, energetic, full of colour, in one sense exciting, in another, desperate. There is activity everywhere, and while it's great to see the city alive and active like this, the realisation that these people are scraping together whatever they can to create shelter in the slums, and finding what little they can to sell to make a little money brings you back down to earth. There was more of this to come at the Dhobi Ghat, in Mahalaxmi.

Dhobi Ghat is a huge open air laundry, row after row of concrete wash tubs - almost 200 in total - where dhobis (or laundrymen) will take your laundry, wash, starch and press it, and deliver it back to you. Families work together, and it's a trade that is passed down the generations.

We wandered down among the streets surrounding the laundry, and here we discovered a lively street market, selling a lot of meat (goats, and their heads for sale on blankets on the ground), fish being gutted, some you could buy live, and a few selling fruit. The lady below had only a handful of goods to sell, as she tried to make a little money to make ends meet.

We were offered a tour of the inside of the concrete wash tubs. I politely declined, mainly on the basis that I may never find my way out again, should they decide to leave us in there. I imagined other western photographers, wandering aimlessly for 3 or 4 years, having perhaps been abandoned on such a tour, given the size and apparent complexity of the maze of wash tubs.

We moved on, finding another taxi to continue our journey to the more salubrious end of the city - the Gateway of India and the Taj Mahal Hotel. The journey took us (slowly) past some of the areas affected by the siege and shootings of a couple of years ago. We drove past the impressive Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (Victoria Terminus), which was attacked by 2 gunmen in 2008 and 58 people were killed.

Shortly afterwards, we arrived at the Gateway of India, built in 1911 to commemorate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary. On the opposite side of the square, the Taj Mahal Hotel dominates the water's edge. Again, this was a major part of the 2008 attacks, for many becoming the symbol of that terrible event. Six explosions were reported in the hotel, and a siege began that lasted 3 days. 32 people were killed, along with the 9 attackers.

Now, the hotel is restored to it's former glory, but a constant reminder of the tragic events lies in the security operation that greets you at the front door these days. Concrete barriers prevent any vehicle getting close to the building, scanners check for weapons and all bags are screened on the way in.

Once inside, it's a beautiful hotel and must be the best in the city. We spent an hour, getting a drink in the first floor bar, looking out over the Arabian Sea, before braving the barrage of tourist hunting photographers to find a cab to take us back to our hotel. After a period of negotiation and several refusals, we found a driver who would take us back for a sensible price, via the Bandra Worli Sea Link - a 3.5 mile, 126m high, 8 lane highway.

This journey marked the end of my brief encounter with Mumbai. We had planned to visit a few bars on the south of the city at the end of our workshop sessions - we'd worked hard enough and certainly earned it - but that decision was taken out of our hands by a series of co-ordinated terrorist bombings.

They happened in the very area we had been in the previous evening and were planning to visit again that night. Our presentation ran over, and we were late getting ready, which meant that by the time we were ready to go, the events had already overtaken our plans. As I watch the drama unfold on the TV news, it became apparent that some of the businesses at the centre of the chaos remained defiantly open throughout the attacks.

This spirit, this sense of perpetual movement that stops for nothing is the reason I have to return to Mumbai.

Shanghai

This summer, I had the chance to take a trip to China for the first time. My work took me to Shanghai, and on the first evening, took our client out for a drink on the Bund, which offers a great view of the skyline.

Shanghai skyline from the Bund

It's a beautiful skyline, and was made more dramatic by the gathering clouds, eventually obscuring the tops of the tallest buildings. As the rain came in, we headed back to the hotel to prepare for 2 days of solid presentations.

I spent the following evening taking a walk away from the hotel during rush hour. The traffic was crazy, and the streets glistened with the persistent drizzle. I walked right down to the river and then, having failed to master the subway system, decided to take the long walk back to the hotel. Thankfully, I was rewarded with the discovery of a small side-street market, only perhaps a dozen stalls, but alive with colour and the Shanghai locals.

Shanghai street market

The following day, after a full day of presentations, I jumped in a taxi to the other side of the river, and took a walk up Nanjing Road. That was quite an experience. If I'd stopped to talk to everyone who tried to talk to me, I'd have come back with about 3 dozen mobile phones, 10 fake Rolex's and countless 'lady massages'. Having run the gauntlet down there, I eventually made it to the restaurant I'd been aiming for all along. The meal was good, if a little expensive, and once I'd finished eating, I made my way back to the hotel for the night.

The following day was Saturday, and after breakfast, I met up with an old family friend, who had moved to Shanghai a few years ago. He arrived with his girlfriend, a local girl, who had lived and studied in Shanghai, and was the perfect person to show me around a few more interesting aspects of the city. I'd asked to see some of the more traditional areas of the city, and we set off to a market which certainly had more of the traditional architecture, but had been converted into a tourist trap, with a German beer bar, and many a cheap souvenir shop. 

That said, the area was surrounded by locals. The market itself was walled, and venturing outside was very much discouraged. Not that I'd have know, unless I'd had this sign translated for me by my guide:

Something like "tourists don't come this way and don't take any photos"

We moved on to Xintiandi, walking through the heat and humidity to the home of the designer shops and good restaurants. We had lunch in one of those restaurants, and I sampled some things that I'd never eaten before, but the most interesting was lotus flower roots, cooked in honey - one of the sweetest things I've tasted, but good all the same.

Once we'd finished, we moved along to one of the few historical sites left in Shanghai - the site of the First National Congress of the Communist Party of China. I say one of the few - many historical areas have been overrun by the CPC, not allowing the people to dwell on the past or have associations with anything that is outside the Party guidelines.

For all the contradictions that I struggled with during my visit, it was still quite an experience to know that I stood in the room where Mao Zedong gathered his comrades around the table and founded the party that still rules the country today.

The site of the First National Congress of the CPC

From here, we moved back to the hotel, spending as much time underground as possible as the humidity burned away to be replaced by the searing heat of mid-afternoon. We called briefly by People's Square (more of that later), and then returned to the hotel for a drink. I turned in relatively early - it had been a long day, and I had plans for a lot more walking on Sunday.

I got up relatively early on Sunday morning, and made my way towards the old town, to see some of the more traditional architecture, and to visit a Ming Dynasty garden. Walking through some of the old town, it started to bring to life the inherent contradiction between an ideology that preaches the sharing of wealth and communal living, and the seemingly enthusiastic embracing of capitalism, embodied by the skyscrapers of the financial district, which provide the backdrop to Yuyuan.

Yuyuan, with Pudong's towers in the background

I wandered around the Yuyuan Gardens, an example of classical Chinese gardening architecture, built in 1559. It contains some examples of large naturally hollowed jade stones and pieces of traditional Chinese art. It provided a rare oasis of tranquility in a city that was seemingly always on the go. The pace slowed noticeably, and it was easy to stroll around the gardens and forget the hustle, the street hawkers and the crowds of tourists who come into the area.

Yuyuan Gardens

From here, I moved deeper into this area, and again, it brought home the crippling poverty that some people endure in Shanghai, while towards the Bund and across the river, people like me enjoyed the opulence of the hotels and the trappings of western wealth. In particular, I ventured down a small alleyway, above my head, lines full of laundry, at street level, battered bicycles, boxes and a glimpse into the tiny homes which sheltered large families, without so much as running water. Instead, large stone tanks store the water the family need, taking up most of the space in very rudimentary kitchens.

Back streets of the old town

Longines, Rolex and Mont Blanc to those few who are 'more equal than others', and the western financiers that keep the city moving.

Nanjing Road

I finally made it to the museum, and it was well worth the visit. There were great exhibitions of Chinese furniture and ceramics, which helped me while away a couple of hours, before finally heading back to the hotel to get another early night and prepare for my flight home the following morning.

I'd enjoyed Shanghai in a way. It's like no other city I've visited, and there are many beautiful things about it - the architecture old and new, the peace of the Yuyuan gardens, the food, the 'exciting' taxi journeys, cutting through the traffic. But, there are also the poorer sides to the city, which I guess many people don't venture into. The places where 'real' people live, struggling each day, while the money making areas are kept glossy and busy with tourists. I can only imagine what it must be like in the country, where the rural communities are subject to more of the oppression that you don't see in the sanitised city.

For that reason, I'm not in a hurry to return to China. I'd rather go to India again - which will be the subject of my next post.

More A to Z

It's been a while, but here are H, I and J in the A to Z of sports projects.

Horse Riding

Ice Skating

I like this one. Tracy wondered why I texted her to ask if we had any glitter, but now it all makes sense...doesn't it?

Javelin

On the day when it let down Jess Ennis at the World Championships. She should have taken a look at this - good technique.

Berlin - Day 2

Saturday morning - we awoke to grey East German skies. I say "we". By now, my brother had joined me in Berlin as I was here for the Marathon. The grey skies were something of a relief for me, as I hoped that the weather would cool off from Friday's sunny warmth. We went out early, on our way to Charlottenburg and its palace, where Rich was taking my place in the 6km Breakfast Run. From right in front of Schloss Charlottenburg, the course made its 6km way to the Olympic Stadium, home of the Games in 1936.

Berlin's Olympic Stadium

Rich and I arrived at a similar time, and I spotted him down on the blue track and went to meet him. We climbed the steps, pausing to take in a view of the 70,000 seater stadium. Moving to the outside of the beautiful venue, we went to the "Marathon Gate", an opening at the end of the stadium that provided the link between the stadium and the parade ground, where Hitler presided over the opening ceremony.

As 10,000 runners made their way back the city, we endured a stifling, sweaty train ride to Potsdamerplatz. The fresh air was welcome as we emerged from the U-bahn and began to walk the 850m or so to the Brandenburg Gate. Passing some pieces of the Wall - which are dotted around various locations in the city - our next stop of significance was the Holocaust Memorial. Certainly, a stop of real significance.

Holocaust Memorial

Here, large grey blocks of concrete rise up in regimented rows, but at different heights, marking the colossal number of lives stolen by Hitler's Third Reich. While this is the memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, and the 6 million Jewish lives lost is always the headline figure that catches the attention, the area also pays tribute to those who were persecuted for their sexual orientation. Thinking of those - black, Jewish, homosexual - who didnt' fit the blond-haired, blue eyed ideal of the Aryan Race, made me cast my mind back to the Olympic Stadium, where under the Fuhrer's gaze, Jesse Owens showed just how 'inferior' his race was by winning 3 gold medals.

Onward, we went to the Brandenburg Gate, and my first glimpse of the business end of the marathon course. The Gate itself is a majestic construction that has defined this area of the city since 1791. It took on additional significance for me that weekend, as it signalled 400m to go to the finish, and point at which I hoped to still have enough left to mount a sprint finish.

The Brandenburg Gate

We stopped here for lunch - my first bratwurst and some curiously curry flavoured ketchup, then set off back to the hotel, via Checkpoint Charlie.

That evening, Rich and I left the hotel to make a short journey to Ostbahnhof and the East Side Gallery. This is a 1.3km stretch of the Wall that remains in situ, following re-unification. In 1989, various international artists were invited to paint their message to the world on the grey concrete canvas. Following restoration in 2009 on the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Wall, it still provides a vibrant display of outdoor artwork.

Selections from the East Side Gallery

 To get back, we boarded the train to Spandau, a trip that could have ended quite differently had we done the same thing between 1939-45. With relief, we were let off at Alexanderplatz, where we made for the Ristorante Linosa. It was busy. The owner must love the Saturday night before the marathon. Other restaurants around the Alex were comparatively empty, while this one burst at the seams with pasta-guzzling marathon hopefuls.

Bread, a huge bowl of pasta and 2 slices of pizza later, I was ready for rolling back to the hotel, as my legs were already feeling carb-heavy. Sleep - and the anticipation of a good day ahead tomorrow.

(Re) discovering Berlin

I say "re-discovering" Berlin, as we've recovered the photographs I took here last year, after our Mac's hard drive packed up. They're the smaller versions from an iPod, but still, it's great to have another look through them.

My first full day in Berlin was really interesting. Having arrived fairly late the previous night, I'd slept well, and left the hotel early after a good breakfast. I was staying in Mitte, just up the road from the famous Alexanderplatz - a large public space, host to the TV tower, the World Time Clock, and the largest demonstration in East German history in 1989.

From here, I went in search of my first encounter of the remains of the Berlin Wall. Something struck me early on - there's so much graffiti in Berlin. And not just the unimaginative brand you get in the UK. There's some genuine talent behind some of this and perhaps, that's why quite a lot of it is left in place.

Graffiti in Mitte

 I made my way to Bernauer Strasse, the site of a remaining piece of the Berlin Wall, and also a preserved area of the 'Death Strip' that divided this city for nearly 30 years. These days, it serves as a memorial for those killed trying to escape to the West and a sort of outdoor museum, with information, other pieces of the Wall, evidence of the patrol roads and a watchtower. All of this offers just a glimpse of what this city must have been like just over 2 decades ago.

A memorial to the victims of the Wall

The Berlin Wall at Bernauer Strasse

As you weave in and out of the broken pieces of the remains of this barrier, it felt strange and uncomfortable to think that, not so long ago, such an act of freedom was nowhere near possible. Since 1961, anyone trying to make that journey from one side of the Wall to the other risked their lives in the face of the East German shoot to kill policy. It's quite hard to comprehend what it must have been like to walk along the western side of the Wall, knowing that you could probably shout to someone in the East, only 50m away, and knowing you enjoyed a freedom they only dreamed of.

I moved on to find another significant relic of the Cold War era - Checkpoint Charlie. Emerging from Kochstrasse U-bahn station brings you face to face with the most famous of the Iron Curtain's crossing points. There's not much left now - a small sentry hut and a sign telling  you that you are leaving the American Zone. This sign has an interesting effect, reminding me that, although the brutality and repression was made in the GDR, this division of the city was a product of an Allied plan to carve up the city.

To think these divisions remained in place for 45 years is sobering, and I wonder if the deal made by Churchill, Stalin and Roosevelt at Yalta ever intended such a long and lasting impact on the city.

Checkpoint Charlie

It's a frivolous shadow of its former self these days. Costumed guards pose for photos with eager tourists and the 'entrepreneurs' look to make a fast buck by selling replica East German medals and soldiers hats. You can even get your passport stamped as you cross the 'border'.

From here, I made my way to Prinz Albrecht Strasse (now renamed Niederkirchnerstrasse). Its original name would have struck fear into the hearts of any German during the Third Reich. The former home of the Gestapo now lies in ruins, only the cellars and the basements still evident among the rubble. Here too, a section of the Wall remains, a further reminder of former divisions.

The Wall at Prinz Albrecht Strasse

Close by is the site of Hitler's Bunker, now a piece of parkland, following demolition of the original building by the Russians. Just a sign marks the spot, giving information about the place where the Fuhrer took his last cowardly breaths.

I finished my day back at Alexanderplatz. The square itself is now a popular shopping area, but its quite barren concrete appearance reminds you that this was once well and truly East Germany. While a mile or two down the road, Unter den Linden is home to impressive Embassy buildings and the Brandenburg Gate, the Alex and the surrounding areas are grey, uniform and dull, save for the flashes of graffiti that punctuate the gloom.

I ate, and headed back to the hotel. My trip back was interrupted by a crew of b-boys putting on an impressive and funny show of breakdancing in the square. Scenes from 'Titanic' were coupled with incredible gymnastic feats, great strength and talent. A good way to finish my first day in Berlin.

A-Z

For a few months now, I've been taking part in a project with some folks at work called 2011 A-Z. The idea is to take 26 photos, beginning with each letter of the alphabet, over the course of 2011. That's a photo every 2 weeks. They have to be in order, and the photo has to be specifically taken for the project. Aside from that, there are no rules...

A while back, I took some photos of Jelly Babies, so I thought I'd pick that theme up again, and now I'm embroiled in a challenge to create a Jelly Baby A-Z of sports.

Most of the letters are fine, but if anyone's got suggestions for 'X' and 'Z'...

For now, here's A-G...

Royal Celebrations

We rounded a week off in Yorkshire with a street party to celebrate the Royal Wedding. All in all, the day was really enjoyable. We'd watched the event itself on the TV, and it was good to see the sense of national unity for once, as 1 million people gathered in London to get a first hand look at the newly-weds.

From 3pm, Ilkley's own celebrations began with a party on the main street with food supplied by Betty's famous tea shop. The Town Cryer got things underway, with the Deputy Lord Lieutenant of West Yorkshire also in attendance.

The street was covered with Union Flag bunting, and kids scooted up and down on their scooters with flags blowing in the breeze. In typically Yorkshire fashion, entertainment was provided by a brass band, although a rather self-indulgent musical director killed the party mood slightly by asking for quiet while they played a piece from Saving Private Ryan.

Overall though, the atmosphere was a happy one. Betty's involvement was clearly popular, as the queue was a lengthy one for at least 3 hours. The party lasted for around 5 hours, and even as I headed home around 5.30, there were still revellers arriving to enjoy the festivities, picnics in hand.

It's not often we get to see this sense of national celebration, reserved usually for jubilees or war victories, so it was nice to have been a part of it.

Back to the Ford Foundry

On my second visit to the old Ford Foundry, I had a much freer reign, and got around a much wider area. Walking into Mould Line 7 again, there was a fashion shoot in progress, which was part of the reason that there were two security guards on duty.

That made it less likely for there to be intruders removing the remaining copper from the site, although as I found this was by no means a guarantee. I made my way through to the back of the foundry, and into the 'Personnel' areas. Without any electricity on the site, this area is pitch black. I had a small torch in my camera bag, and it was enough to find my way into a couple of rooms.

There's very little there now. The rooms have been emptied or turned upside down, but I did get a shot down one of the light-less corridors before heading back to the light.

I headed outside and crossed the passageway to the canteen area. This was one of the main parts I was interested in seeing, but I didn't stop long. I grabbed a quick shot, and headed for the door. There was almost certainly someone else in there, and I didn't want to wait around to find out who. I later found out from the guards that there were people in there harvesting the copper pipes - while there were 10 other people on the site! Some people have no nerves.

I carried on, and climbed the steps on the outside and squeezed through a door, and found my way to a vantage point overlooking the main mould line area. The fashion shoot continued below, and the shafts of sunlight filtered through the gaps again. There are some interesting little things still hanging around here - a printer, with paper and data still hanging from it, a boot, a hard hat decorated like the England flag, a pneumatic drill - the general detritus of an industry long since wound up.

There are many brand new parts on the site too. I found may way through the 'Goods Inward' door, and while most of the parts shelves now lie empty, there are still filters and other parts sitting in their wrapping, never to fulfil their destiny of being part of a brand new Ford.

Finally, I took some shots of the exterior. Sadly, the moody looking clouds of the morning had cleared, so it didn't provide the perfect backdrop for the gritty exterior, but I did get the chance to get a shot of the thing that originally piqued my interest in the place. I was interested by a phone box that was tucked away in a gap between two buildings. I wondered what it was there for, and imagined people on the night shifts maybe calling home to say goodnight to their kids in the days before mobile phones.

I should manage another couple of visits to the site, and hopefully uncover a few more exciting parts of its past before the place is finally pulled down for good. The 'Demolition in Progress' signs are already up in parts, so time is running out.

Ford Foundry

Leamington's Ford Foundry closed about 4 years ago, taking with it hundreds of jobs and the heart of an iconic part of the town.

I've spent 10 years going back and to past that building, and recently, it's been sold and plans for development made public. Looking more closely at it now, I noticed small details that I'd never seen before - Quality Starts Here, Goods Inward, the red phone box in an alcove outside the building - and I began to think about the people that used to work there. The stories, the history, the livelihoods that were made there.

I wanted to get inside, so I made my enquiries and managed to set up a (legitimate) site visit. I know plenty of people have made their way in there by other means, but I wanted the luxury of a bit more time on the site to take in the atmosphere, as well as capturing it's last moments before demolition begins and it becomes Morrisons, or a hotel, or offices.

We arrived around 1pm, and once inside the gates, there was a palpable sense of excitement, waiting to get inside to shoot. Graham, security guard (and our guide) took us into the main area - No.7 Mould Line. The floor is grimy and slippery, but the sun was shining outside and from cracks in the roof, shafts of light illuminated the floor and created an eerie feeling in the building.

Looking around, it seems the upper level floors have been removed, so the height of the building is evident, and it's steel pillars create a picture not unlike the nave of a cathedral.

We wandered through the derelict space, looking for interesting angles, and at the same time, picking out the evidence of it's former glory. Signs still warn of 'High Voltage' and maintaining a safe speed, but the days are long since gone since anyone has driven a vehicle through there, or the building had any electricity.

The most interesting part for me was a room which was clearly home to some of the guys on the last day. Sprayed on the wall in red paint were the slogans "Goodbye Lads & All the Best" and "We Stood Together" - poignant reminders of the camaraderie of the men and women who worked there, and what the closing meant to them.

After a couple of hours, we had to leave the site. The security guard was on to his next job, although he perhaps should have been hanging around as an intruder was breaking in to continue stealing the copper that remains on the site.

I hope to return over the next few weeks. We've seen the main working part. I really hope to see the canteens, and places where those men who had written on the walls spent their breaks, to really bring to life the stories of the real people who were in that factory day in and day out.