It's a wrap

It's been an fascinating journey. India is all at once mad, colourful, magical, pungent, ordered and illogical. It's hard to make sense of it.

In our travels we've encountered camels in the desert, pesky monkeys, holy cows, poor mangy hounds and Tim the gecko.

We've slept on a train, under the stars, in a palace and in plenty of cheap and mostly cheery digs.

We've eaten chapatis like there's no tomorrow, rasam (dhal-based broth) that nearly blew our heads clean off, samosas from street vendors and never once tired of palak paneer.

Kingfisher was king, cosmopolitans were a surprise treat and I'm not sure when I'll be able to face another chai.

We've learned that when it comes to Indian road rules, there are no rules!

The Golden Temple experience in Amritsar was a highlight, so too were the markets of the Himalayan hill station of Shimla, the sunset boat ride on the holy Ganges (where we set candles afloat with well wishes), the hundreds of kites sweetly drifting in the Varanasi sky at dusk, the sleeper train through the desert to Jaisalmer and the madness of Delhi on day one.

Travel never fails to enrich and this trip is no exception.

I won't miss the pollution, the smell of urine on every corner or the constant stares. That said, I look forward to returning to India someday for another dose and to let it sink in some more.

We're in Malaysia now where the plan is to read a John Grisham novel (or two), by the pool, in the steamy KL weather (my hair is starting to look like Monica's in the episode of Friends when they go to Barbados).

Thanks for checking in on us.
We'll post photos very soon.
See you next week.

Namasta.
Fermilenge.
xox

Alvida India

Alvida India! [Goodbye India!]

We're now in KL, Malaysia, with little sleep from the overnight flight out of Delhi. It was time to leave India ... the place is remarkable, but wears you down too. Not least the pollution, which has given me a chest infection and stripped the lining from Suey's nasal passages, so she has a bloody nose most of the time.

India's full of contradictions. So is the West I guess, though perhaps ours are better hidden. The place is swimming in filth, and the population is set to double by 2050. That will then be two billion Indians swimming in uber-filth. I'm not convinced that one billion people, or two billion people, have to live like India lives. I need to think on it more. Is India a true snapshot of a overcrowded, exhausted planet? I hope not. The other huge contradiction is Hinduism itself. The philosophy behind karmic reincarnation I can handle. OK, so maybe you do bad things, you come back as a dog. But the Hindu caste system is plainly no good. No good. You do bad things you come back as an Untouchable? This is just a convenient scam by those in higher castes. Inequity is inequity, no matter how you cloak it. It's a monumental scam in a country of myriad tiny scams. Karma indeed.

Speaking of dogs, what really made me ready to leave was seeing a sad little pup in Varanasi, six months old, with a broken, infected foot. No one to care for it. Not much of a life to look forward to. Of course, we also sadly saw many people in abject states of misery. But at least people have the capacity to reason about it and, one hopes, have others to care for them. This poor little pup was just a poor, sick, lonely little pup.

Anyway, India was amazing. We'll put some photos up soon.

So, the first thing that happened to us when we hit KL was being cleverly scammed by a taxi company. They made us think our airport transfer wasn't coming. We fell for it. Oh well. Live and learn. Yes, our guard was down, especially after India,  where the worst that happened was being shortchanged by another taxi driver. We were more vigilant. Our bad for not being more savvy in KL. But still, it's a funny old, sad, silly world, in India and beyond.

See you all soon. Home Sunday. xoxox

Counting our blessings in Varanasi

An account of our blessings in Varanasi:

• Number of flower garlands bought and worn and soon to be set adrift down the Ganges as a puja [respect] offering: 3. Price: Rs 7. 
• Number of sandlewood prayer bead strings bought: 2.
• Number of litres of effluent the city's sewer system can handle per day: 100,000,000. 
• Litres of effluent generated per day: 290,000,000. 
• Number of hours per day the energy-heavy sanitation system causes a town-wide blackout: 6. 
• Number of hours the sewer system therefore discharges untreated effluent directly into the river: 6. 
• Number of litres of effluent discharged per day just south of our hotel: 30,000,000.
• Number of bathing ghats [steps] built along the western bank of the Ganges: about 80.
• Distance from Assi Ghat, where our hotel is, to Manikarnika Ghat (the so-called burning ghat): 2 km. 
• Number of minutes taken to stroll this distance: 90. 
• Number of boat touts, hotel touts, flower sellers, rickshaw drivers, saddhus, children and 'students' to whom we politely but firmly said 'Ji naang hai, dhanyawad' [No, thank you] during this walk: 49. (I was of a mind to count, as we walked.) 
• Number of saddhus [wise men] that have shoved me because I refused to give them money: 1. 
• Number of saddhus to whom I've said 'Chalo!' [Go away!]: 1. 
• Number of regular folk to whom we've politely spoken who haven't ended up trying to sell us something: 1. An Indian family with very little English was most taken, last night, with Suey's bindi -- forehead mark to indicate marriage -- and my broken Hindi, 'Sundar putni!' [Beautiful wife!]
• Number of touts to whom I've sadly been rude: 2. One was after a small fight with Sue. I was frustrated, and much too curt with my 'No'. The other asked four times whether I'd like a rickshaw ride. My fourth 'No, thanks' was sharp. My bad. Patience and humour are good things.
• Number of Cosmopolitans ordered at the Taj Ganges (5-star) James Prinsep bar on our first night: 3. 
• Number of Johnny Walker and Drys: 2. It's more or less a dry city, but we were desperate for a drink. 
• Number of Kulfi-Wallah [Ice-cream Man] cones bought at the modern, western IP Mall: 2. We're having some odd, unexpected Varanasi experiences! 
• Number of pages in the Sunday India Times broadsheet marriage liftout: 8. 
• Per cent of ads seeking arranged marriages: looked like all of them. 
• Per cent of ads mentioning caste as a precondition: I'd say 75%. 
• Number of floating corpses in the river, spotted on our dawn boat ride: 1. 
• Number of tiny, paper kites being flown from rooftops last night as we watched the sunset over Varanasi: Hundreds. (The sweetest thing I've seen in India thus far.)

A land of contrasts! Next post Delhi, Wednesday, as we fly out. Then KL on the weekend. Then home!

Namaste. xoxox

The Taj

Described as the most extravagant monument ever built for love, a sublime Mughal mausoleum, India's most ogled icon, a teardrop on the face of eternity, the embodiment of all things pure, tourists are drawn to the Taj Mahal like moths to a flame.

In the midst of our travel plans a couple of weeks ago, we were toying with blowing off a visit to the Taj. We were keen to maximise our time in Rajasthan and to get to the holy city of Varanasi and wondered how we were going to fit it all in. But then again, it's the Taj! It'd be rude not to.

Friends had advised us, though, that Agra is polluted, full of touts and generally draining. So, the advice was: don't waste your time in Agra; go and see the Taj and then get the hell out of there.

Thankfully the trusty Lonely Plant had the answer we needed ... 'many tourists choose to visit Agra on a whistle-stop day trip - made possible by the excellent train service from Delhi. The daily express leaves Delhi at 6.15 am and departs from Agra for the return trip at 8.30 pm the same day'. Perfect! That was our solution. So, we went ahead and booked our ticket, very pleased with ourselves for being organised two weeks in advance.

After a feral early morning but brisk train trip, we arrived in Agra Friday last week and were instantly surprised at how quiet it was (relatively speaking). It seems we've grown accustomed to the touts and vendors and constant rickshaw requests.

We asked our autorickshaw driver to drop us at Shanti Lodge, which has a rooftop cafe with a great view of the Taj (albeit buried in smog on this day) where we were planning to settle in and hatch our Taj plan over breakfast.

In usual fashion, the rickshaw driver tried to talk us into a deal whereby we hired him for the day to show him the sites of Agra because, 'Taj closed Friday'.

Closed. The Taj is closed on a Friday. The Taj! The world heritage site. The magnificent white marble beacon for love. The picture beaming at the top of our blog. Closed on Fridays. Who woulda thunk it?

As it turned out, we had a great day in Agra (there are actually other sites to see) and we managed to view the Taj from various spots and got some great pics.

We're writing to Lonely Planet, requesting a simple addition to their otherwise excellent Taj advice. 'Just don't go on Friday, when the Taj is closed.'

It's all an adventure. Namaste. xox

Suey overstates the Hindi case

Master of Hindi I am not! Suey gilds the lily [Sapulo chilid Sueyji hai]. Actually, I made that up. I do not know 'gild the lily' in Hindi. I've had no cause for it thus far. But 'hello', 'good', 'delicious', 'what's your name?', 'my name is ...', 'how much?', most numbers, and 'see you later' I can kind of handle. It's not a Vedic masterpiece, but it's a start.

Fermilenge! xo

Acha Acha Acha!

Ad's comprehension of the Hindi language is 'acha acha acha' [good good good]. He's conversing with locals all the time and they love it! It's a great way to travel. You get a lot of respect as a result. Some have commented that his accent is spot on, while others have asked if we live in India. He's becoming quite the master.

For reasons we'll explain later, when asked if we are married, we've been saying yes (it's just easier that way).

To illustrate the point, I now have a small red stripe at the top of my forehead, which is a visual indication of marriage. We met an Indian family on the train the other day, returning home from their Diwali holiday (Diwali is the festival of light - bigger than Christmas here). There were brothers and sisters and children and parents and grandparents, all travelling together (which is very typical). The women were beautiful in their saris, as usual, and the whole family lobbed in with us and started a conversation (again, very typical). We were showered with homemade Indian sweets and questions.

One of the daughters was recently married (we saw photos of her colourful, elaborate wedding with 1,000+ guests) and she was telling me about the red stripe representing marriage. She then asked if I'd like the same? On replying yes, Ad was given the nail-polish-like bottle, as the husband had to apply to stripe. And so he did. The lady also placed a bindi between my eyes, just for fun.

Ad now refers to me as Babiji (wifey), always with a chuckle.

India continues to mystify, with each new village/city we visit or journey we take. It can be energy zapping and confronting (it jostles you around a bit some days) but it has a magical air that is hard to explain. Demystifying India is difficult. I guess it's not about that though, it's about surrendering to the experience, which it feels like we're genuinely doing.

Pushkar, our current post, is easy for doing that. It is a pond-sized Hindu pilgrimage town with a very relaxed vibe (which is about to explode with much camel bonhomie). Should be a hoot.

More soon.
Namaste. xo

Spending rups in Rajasthan

Namashkaar!

We've had all sorts of India in the last eight days. Shimla was India 2.0. A mountain town more like Austria than India. Rishikesh was genuinely spiritual, if for nothing else than the amazing river running through it. I swam there, by the way. Dunked myself in the Ganges well and good. My prayer beads -- bought outside the Golden Temple at Amritsar -- are now also Ganga soaked. Jarrool [Yes, for sure], I am blessed.

Rajasthan, where we are now, is original India (let's call it India 0.1) but also tourist India, even more so than Rishi or Delhi. Wonderful, but a shopkeeper in your face every step. It's hard not to pay over the odds for everything, mainly because what you're begrudging is generally a few bucks. Whether a shirt is Rs 250 ($7.50) or Rs 150 doesn't make a whole lot of difference to us. What's fair? And to whom? We have money; Indians need it. In the end, there's enough for everyone, though the global distribution thereof sucks.

So, in Jaisalmer, we suddenly spent more rups in a day than we have all trip, I reckon. We blew 5000 on an evening in our one ritzy hotel, the Mandir Palace. It was cool and clean, the water hot, the Fort view spectacular, the sandstone carving exquisite. The scotch and sodas went down delightfully too. But Mandir was no less enjoyable than the bright (if stinky; what price clean air I guess) guest house we stumbled on next, just across the road, where we could have stayed 16.5 nights for the same price as the Mandir. Then we paid way over the odds for camel safari turbans -- the turban buying was the culmination of much chai drinking, room inspecting, safari describing and 'this is fair price, not tourist price' imprecating -- it's nothing personal, of course, but we're slowly learning what's friendly and what's a put up. We are tourists but travellers more so. My pack is full; trinkets and souvenirs I don't need.

Actually, our camel safari (for which the turbans were required) was great fun, even if things didn't go quite according to the chai-drinking safari-describing preliminaries. The final dissimilarity, though, broke our patience, when the room we'd been promised on our return was not the one we'd been shown but, rather, one (far less salubrious) in the 'other hotel'. At this point, we politely and firmly backpacked out the door.

None of this is tough for you travel vets out there, but for me it's fantastic fun. Learning, learning, learning. 'Kal', by the way, is a great Hindi word I've learned. It means 'tomorrow' (or 'yesterday', depending on the context) and implies something similar to the Spanish 'manana'. That is, 'tomorrow but maybe never'. It stops most shopkeepers cold, as (I'm pretty sure) they know that I know that they know that I know.

We're in Pushkar, a few days before the famous camel fair. Population 15,000 but with 200,000 people and 50,000 camels on the way by full moon next week. Or maybe it's 200,000 camels and 50,000 people. I forget. The camels don't know either. Our plan is to sit around for a few days, after generally being on the go the past ten.

Thanks again for your comments! We're glad you're reading and enjoying. Next post Varanasi I suspect.

Apse milke bahut achalago! [Very nice speaking with you!]

Namaste xo

Cheeky Monkey

Before coming to Rishikesh -- a magnet of spiritual seekers and the 'Yoga Capital of the World' -- we spent a little bit of time in Shimla.

Shimla's a pretty town, strung out along a ridge in the foothills of the Himalayas. The change of pace and cooler weather were refreshing.

Having read the guide book, we decided to take a wander up to the Jakhu Temple, dedicated to the monkey god. It's a steep half hour climb, with hundreds of monkeys loitering in the forest that straddles the path. We were told not to make eye contact or smile at the monkeys and we did as the locals do ... carried a stick.

Having reached the top, we took a breather and posed for a photo. As I was standing in front of a statue, a monkey came from behind and grabbed my sunglasses straight off my head! It would be fair to say I squealed with vigour! The monkey then proceeded to sit not far from us, parading my sunglasses in victory.

Not long after, when Ad sat down to send an sms - bang! Monkey ... sunglasses ... gone!

So, it's cheeky monkeys: 2, Ad and Suey: 0.
It's all an adventure.

Next up we're off to the giant sandcastle town of Jaisalmer in Rajasthan, but right now I have to split to go and watch the sunset over the Ganges from the rooftop of our hotel. The adventure continues!

Namaste. xo

Grunge Rishikesh

Ti kai? [OK?]

Hanji. Subh ti kai! [Yes. All is well!]

I can see the Ganges from the window of this internet caf. It's wide, green and glorious. Rishikesh, seven hours north of Delhi (and famous for the Beatles' 1968 visit), is hard to fathom. It's stunningly beautiful, and this alone might account for its spiritual rep. It's hard not to get absorbed in the river's flow, fresh from the Himalayas. Yet Rishi is also commercial and full of Westerners -- more Westerners than I've seen in my three Indian weeks. After that, it's kind of grungy. Sadhus [wise men / religious men] will engage you in conversation but are just as likely to hit you up for rupees thereafter. I politely decline. Ji naang hai, dhanyawad. [No, thankyou.]

The sadhus seem kind of mad, and this may be because they are genuinely spiritual and find it hard to make their way in the world. Or maybe they really are mad and this is a good place to hang out. I don't know. There's a fine line between mad and enlightened I reckon. Some of the maddest people I know make the most sense, some of the time.

Anyway, thanks for reading, if you're been tracking this blog. We only aim to say namaste once a week or so. We've been crap with the postcards too.

Indian music and traditional dance concert tonight on the rooftop of an ashram, five minutes from our digs. More Rishi tomorrow -- I may even dunk myself in the Ganges -- then a shockingly early train to Delhi on Tuesday, followed by an overnighter to Jaisalmer in the Great Thar Desert. Hope everyone at home is grand.

xo

Holy Cow!

After 10 days apart and a long trip from Barwon Heads to Delhi, it was great to see Ad. He greeted me at the Indira Gandhi International Airport dressed in a kurta and speaking Hindi! He then proceeded to negotiate the cab ride to the city with ease and has proven he is a master of the mathematics behind the Indian train timetables.

It has been quite an adventure since.

My first taste of India was Paharganj, in New Delhi. There is something intoxicating about arriving in a bustling city for the first time. The sights, sounds and smells rush through your veins. That experience for me was wandering through the main bazaar.

It's a melting pot of women in beautiful saris, maniacal traffic, young kids playing cricket in the dusty streets, confronting smells (imagine an aromatic mix of incense, urine and fried samosas, all in one whiff), constant offers for rickshaw rides and in the midst of it all - very large cows sitting around peacefully. It was intense and I loved it!

We've since had an incredible experience in Amristar at the Golden Temple (see Ad's post below) and next we're heading to the hills, possibly followed by a visit to Rishikesh for some Ashram action.

I'm loving the vegetarian food and have had no sign of stomach rumblings, nor has Ad. Jas, however, got taken down by a chicken masala and is still suffering 4 days later but in true Tripper J style, is soldiering on.

Namaste. xo

The Golden Temple

Forgive me. It's been eight days since my last post. Hard to get to an interim net 'caf' sometimes here. Suey and I just got back from another spine-crunching local bus ride to Amritsar, five hours north-east. We ran into a white chap on the bus, who lives locally and said we're only the second white folk in five years that he's seen on that route. So we are putting some 'in' before the 'trepid'.

Amritsar is an hour from the Pakistan border, and you can go see the border closing ceremony. It's underwhelming. I was expecting gravitas, but all we got was chest beating, feather fluffing and silly walks. I suppose it would be funny if they weren't blowing each other up from time to time. The Pakistanis had nicer uniforms/costumes and looked more fearsome.

Infinitely more astonishing is the Sikh Golden Temple. Set in the middle of a holy lake (Amrit Sarovar -- Pool of Nectar) and surrounded on all sides by marbled promenades, it's packed with pilgrims around the clock. Just as busy at 5am (we got up to watch the Temple change colour as the sun rose) as 5pm.

We slept in a flea-bitten dorm in one of the huge peripheral buildings housing the thousands of daily/nightly visitors. Holy men chant or sing from the Guru Granth Sahib (holy book) around the clock, accompanied sometimes by sitar, tabla and harmonium. This is broadcast throughout the complex over loudspeakers. When you queue up and finally get inside the Hari Mandir Sahib (main temple), though, you stand right next to the priests, sitting, singing, praying (and broadcasting).

We ate dahl, naan and some sort of polenta-based mithai ('sweet'; not so great) in the communal dining hall, in which the Sikh's feed 40,000 people a day for free. You grab a thali (tin plate), rush to grab a spot in one of the long, straight lines on the floor, and get your dahl served from a bucket. Then we spent 45 minutes washing thousands of shiny thalis in the communal kitchen. You don't have to pitch in, but it's all part of the fun.

Sikhism appears genuinely inclusive and tolerant. So it was hard to reconcile the sharp, curved dagger I saw poking from a pilgrim's sari as she kneeled to kiss the marble Parkarma (promenade). This and the border closing foolishness are somehow sadly related.

Anyway ... tomorrow to Shimla in the Himalayan foothills, perhaps then to Rishikesh and the Ganges headwaters for some yoga (if we can gird ourselves for a 10-hour bus ride). Thence to Delhi and Paharganj for, well, Delhi, and thereafter to Jaisalmer in the Great Thar Desert.

Last night I ate Fettucine Alfredo in a local, extremely authentic, Italian restaruant. We're enjoying our adventure.

Namashkaar. xo

Five days in

Namaskaar! [Hello!]

Kya hal hai? [How are you?]

Achaa! [Good!]

So, between you, me and 110 krore (1.1 billion) Indians, I'm not the world's best traveller. My 'a gentleman will walk but never run' philosophy isn't so effective in the overseas trenches. Besides which, I like to know where I am and where I'm going and which bus to catch and how much it costs -- ahead of time. I'm not quite obsessive compulsive about it, but my brain runs smoother when I have the territory mapped. I stress less.

In which case, the first three days in India were full on. This country, with the greatest respect, is like a zoo with the keepers missing. What I mean is, it's every living organism for itself. The most ubiquitous organism, of course, is humankind. People everywhere, doing everything, all the time. It's mad and magical and not a little confronting. Mostly indescribable. Of course, it's not a zoo to the locals, it's home. This is settling.

But the last two days I've finally taken the proper plunge. I've wandered for hours through the local markets and back streets, the only white guy for miles. I've had two 'fights' with autorickshaw wallahs. I want to go one way, they generally want to take you to their 'friend's' shop. The first altercation, I got out of the rickshaw twice before getting my way. Walking away is a powerful bargaining tool.

I've caught a local spine-crunching crash-defying bus 150 km south to Mysore to see the palace (unbelievable opulence) and wander the town (extraordinary simplicity). Once again, the only white guy on the streets, which is enough to prompt locals to ask for a photo or touch your skin. I've pushed my way onto the bus back to Bengarluru. Ya gotta push, or miss out.

Unlike all you savvy travellers out there, this mode of being is kind of new to me. For various long-held deep-seated psychologically compelling reasons, I've been tentative in life.

Last night, bumping back through the warm night, listening to a track called 'Home' by All India Radio on the iPod, I even got a little teary about it all. To paraphrase David Malouf ... I am nine years old. I am 40. I am infinitely alive and creative. I am there.

Namaste.

Fermilengi! [See you later!]

xo

Departure

A nice man in the airport pointed out to me that I'd left my passport behind at the baggage counter. Oops. Nearly fell at the first hurdle. Jason is sleepy and perhaps excited. I'm sleepy and very excited. Chapatis all 'round.

xo

India looms large

India looms large. I would be excited if I weren't so heavily sedated by an organisational communications literature review of economic globalisation and Third World labour practices.

But that will be finished soon enough and then I'll be on a plane with Jas, seeing it for myself. Bombs are going off in Delhi, but what can one do? Perhaps I should distribute some remaindered 'Be Alert' fridge magnets.

Jas and I are buying a travel guitar. I've ordered the Buskers' Fake Book. I'm looking forward to life's rich tapestry, sittting around, singing and seeing how most of the rest of the world lives.

xoad

Preparing for India

It's less than two weeks till Ad sets off to India, with me a couple of weeks after that.

We're all organised - got our jabs, travel insurance, ticket and visa. A little more guide book reading and I don't think there's much more preparation we could do.

We're expecting this to be quite an adventure. Travels through Africa and parts of Asia don't seem to measure up to the madness of India (if what we read is true).

I have no doubt it'll be a hard hitting reminder that the majority of the planet lives in conditions far removed from the cushy life of the western world.

I'm looking forward to learning first hand what makes India tick.

Till soon ... xo