Bali Yatra, the filthy fair of the East

Welcome to Bali Yatra

I had hoped to visit an elephant reserve this weekend, but plans for such a trip were quickly scuppered when I was quite candidly told by the tour operator that the chances of seeing any elephants (or any animals at all) in the reserve were slim to none. Hmm. Instead, Laura (American), Claudia (German), Juliet (English) and Katti (German) and I decide to take a trip 25km north of Bhubaneswar to visit Bali Yatra. This is touted as the biggest trading fair in the east of India and has been hyped in the newspapers all week. It looks like a good opportunity to do some Christmas shopping and explore another part of Orissa, so off we go.

We take the bus from Bhubaneswar to Cuttack, which in itself is almost a feat worthy of praise. Taking a bus here can be difficult in a group, as demand is high and seats therefore scarce. Upon arriving at the bus stop (or 'bus stand', as it is known here), we find a bus destined for Cuttack - however it is clearly VERY FULL with no available seats, despite the driver telling us otherwise and trying to usher us onto the bus. He gets quite aggressive when we tell him we'll wait for the next bus, and begins shouting in our faces; if our minds weren't made up already then they sure as hell are now. We shout back 'jao, jao!' (my terrible attempt at spelling the Oriya for 'leave, leave!') and after another bout of aggression he relucantly leaves us and the bus rumbles off. PHEW.

We just about squeeze on to the next bus, so 15 rupees (€0.21) and one hour later we arrive in Cuttack. In terms of aesthetics, it looks very similar to Bhubaneswar, albeit a little older and more dated. It has a sort of ramshackle visual charm tempered by a strong smell of urine that makes it doable for a daytrip but perhaps not pleasant to inhabit long-term. The roads are squishier and smaller than Bhubaneswar and the crowding more pronounced, though admittedly we are arriving on the 3rd day of Bali Yatra so a throng or three is to be expected.

Cuttack is the old capital of Orissa, before Bhubaneswar claimed the moniker in 1948. It is famous for it's delicate filigree silver so I am looking forward to some jewellery shopping. It is my birthday this week and I have been given money to shop for gifts for myself; vunderbar!

The 5 of us somehow pile in to a tiny tuk-tuk which fortunately comes with a tiny driver; as you can see he is hemmed in from all sides.



Arriving at the fair, we realise we may be slightly early. It is almost 2pm but many stalls are not yet open; some stall holders are clearly not ready to start work yet.




The fair is a vast expanse of commerce with a staggering variety of stalls. Crockery, handmade shoes, cooking oil, ice-cream, handicrafts and children's toy stalls are all jumbled and muddled together, seemingly in no order whatsoever. I do enjoy seeing this stall which is manned by a rather stern looking woman in a sari; I wonder what she thinks of my inadvertent giggles as I snap a quick photo. Whoops.



I should mention at this point how HOT the weather is. It has been cooling off lately and I find myself needing a blanket at night, so I am completely unprepared for the sweltering heat in Cuttack. It is mid-thirties and I am sweating. Just browsing the stalls is exhausting. Luckily there are wonderful places to get fresh fruit juices to keep us going.



It is also worth mentioning how absolutely bloody filthy the place is. We stop for ice-cream at one point and then realise there are no bins in which to put our rubbish. This no-bin rule seems to extend to the entire fair. This is in spite of the fact that the fair has been planned for months and the organisers knew to expect over one million visitors over four days. There are mounds of rubbish everywhere; empty juice cartons, plastic bags, old newspapers and of course the obligatory cow shit. I don't see any toilets during the whole day either, and it appears that people are using the banks of the nearby river for this purpose. I am unfortunate enough to see a man's bare arse as he stands up after relieving himself. This place is literally a shithole.

I have a good rant about this to Dad on Skype on Sunday and on Tuesday this piece appears in the newspaper... it is nice to see an Indian paper reporting on lack of sanitation as it often seems to be accepted here and taken for granted. I'm not sure why my photograph was put alongside the article but nevermind!



After some rather muted meandering in the hot hot heat, we finally find our way to the area where handicrafts are sold. Many of these are run by SHGs (Self-Help Groups) and by tribal women. Just finding this area is enormously difficult as the fairground literally stretches for miles and miles. In this area are some truly beautiful items. Bronze vases, handmade rugs, carved rocking chairs, delicate jewellery boxes, bed linen, even ornamental elephants.









We take a break for lunch and enjoy some phenomenally greasy noodles for 25 rupees a plate (€0.36). By this stage we are hot, tired and slightly market-weary. We cannot for the life of us find where the silver section is and getting directions in English is near impossible. Eventually we give up and pile into a bus for the trip back home. My shopping was minimal though I did get one or two bits for people back home. On that note, less than five weeks until I'm back on Irish soil... get the Guinness ready there, barkeep.