HOLI HOLI farewells!

I stepped into another Bollywood extravaganza for the usual 500 Rupees and free food but this time it was high-budget, superstar studded, with the energetic Bollywood dance routine that my Bollywood dreams are made of. The film: Double Dhamaal. I got to dance "loud and with high energy" in the background of one of the scenes with one of the stars of the show, Sanjay Dutt, and then got to witness Bollywood's own "Sexy Siren" (so named because she actually does kissing scenes in her films. Shock!) Mallika Sherawat diva in action with yet more background dancing in my usual style of the seaweed dance. (My seaweed dance consists of swaying, eyes closed, arms raised in a fluid seaweed-like motion irrespective of the tune so it works for drum n bass, electro, folk music, all genres are covered here!). It's one to add to the CV I'm sure!

The day after was Holi Holi, a colourful festival where paints of many colours and toxicities are thrown into the air and on each other. The festival combines the celebration of the full moon, the advent of spring, and a way of showing, that despite the ranges in skin colour, that when everyone is covered in paint everyone of every colour is united in the same smudge of vibrant colours - this is my favourite interpretation of Holi.

Sculpture and Stuff

Phew...so after a few wordy entries here are some visuals of the sculpture and painted murals that I ogled during my last few weeks in India...

Khajuraho: saris and temples

Khajuraho: ancient rudies. The temples are famed for their erotic sculpture which decorates the outside of many a temple

Khajuraho: See here: the woman on the left is modestly bathing, then a couple across and you can make out a woman picking a thorn out of her foot with some assistance, and then on the far right a woman picks up a child. Incredible detail Incredible India!

Ajanta Caves: a mural depicting Padmapani of course!

Ellora caves: super old rock-cut temples

Ellora caves: goddess with peacock and kid learning in the corner

Ultimate People Watching

Varanasi is defo one of my absolute Indian faves! The people watching experience is just incredible. This is Incredible India afterall. The happenings here are so diverse and colourful. A puja ceremony is held every evening on the Dasaswamedh ghat which was magical and mesmerising with hundreds of people watching from the ghats and boats on the Ganges, with Hindus reveling in the religiosity of the ceremony and tourists like me in awe of the beauty and enormity of it all. Incense and fire and feathers were bandied around by the eight Sadhus performing the ceremony as they moved with their props in synchronised fluid motions for two hours. Absolutely captivating.

Sadhus in full swing

End of ceremony and a closer peek at the Sadhu stage

I took a couple of sunrise boat trips down the Ganges and passed by the conspicuous burning death and funeral pyres which was really moving yet felt slightly intrusive, but Varanasi is the place where life, love, and death all happens so unabashedly. The laundrymen beating out the grime in the Ganges, folks modestly bathing, those meditating, symbolic first dips for newly weds...And of course I released flowers nestled amongst a lit candle into the Ganges.

I took several strolls along the ghats to absorb as much as I could of this fascinating city and got lost in the weaving labyrinth of the back streets passing by kids playing cricket on dusty pitches, veg sellers, shrines, the usual. And of course the sacred COWS! My fear of cows has really been tested in India. The tiny alleyways of Varanasi meant that I had to slink past cows regularly with as much calm as I could muster. There was even the odd bull sashaying down the tiny, maze-like streets!

Colourful bathing ghat

View from my sunrise boat along the ghats

Crabs Escape on Train!

So to my weekend jaunt to the delightful Sunderbans. A perfectly chilled group of us took a 2 day boat tour of the Sunderbans in search of the elusive man-eating Bengali tiger through the largest mangrove delta in the world (not mangoes as one of our troupe thought!). We started off super hungover after a Hope Foundation flat-warming party (the results of which saw the Hopers get evicted due to the apparently rowdy party. Eeps!). We then, of course, took a plethora of transportation modes: firstly, the taxi to Sealdah train station, onto the locals train, onto a sort of rickshaw front end with a flat wooden cart stuck on the back for us to sit on (possibly the most uncomfortable 45 minutes of my life with every bump in the road felt as heads and legs were thrown against bars and boards), and finally onto our modest little boat.

Rickshaw/cart fusion. Beautiful scenery en route made this journey bearable: mud huts, rice paddies, tropical trees...

It was simply extremely chilled with guitars and singing, nice peeps and beautiful surrounds. On the first night we went to one of the villages and sat amongst a courtyard of mud huts for many hours with more guitar and singing and a cheeky little toddler to keep us entertained. The villagers then cooked us the most amazingly delish foods as served up for festivals (and of course there was a festival, this time for Saraswati): mushed up and spicy lentil and rice dish, grilled aubergine, and matchstick fried plantain. All eaten by hand and served up on a metal tray. We then popped off to the main event which turned out to be a village dance-off and as the guests we were invited up on stage. Urgh! I avoided this humiliation but the boys had a great time even giving a thank you speech. Afterwards we returned to the boat for some sleeps but alas!!, the boat was stranded on the mud bank! With some bloke muscle power they managed to haul the vessel back towards the dock. Disaster averted!

Mangroves...not mangoes!

We spent pretty much all of the next day cruising around the Sunderbans spying a few monkeys, a big lizard, and a croc...but no man-eating Bengali tiger! At one of the docks we bumped into a famous Bengali actor who climbed aboard, blessed the boys with a splodge of river mud on their forehead, and then gave us some river crabs as a gift for us to cook up for our tea. Bizarre!

Bengali actor warmly greeting his fans

On the journey back we piled into a tempo which could comfortably hold our group of eleven plus driver, but as soon as we were about to depart the masses piled in as they wedged their way onto the benches, clung to the sides, and sat on the roof bringing us to 25 aboard! Hilarious!! Then, at a brief stop at another town, another 5 magically squeezed their way on!! Impressive stuff! On the train back to Calcutta I was in charge of looking after our crab dinner. I did a poor job. Unbeknownst to me one escaped and as I caught sight of the second trying to claw its way out of the carrier bag it was too late and it too scuttled off - it's pincers looked pretty fierce and determined! There was mild pandemonium on the train as word got out that the foreigner's crabs had escaped! Pointing and high dramatics ensued. The crabs scuttled a little further down the carriage towards the doorway and were promptly kicked off the train by two in our group who were trying to save the crabs from being stomped to pieces by the locals. So no crab dinner. Funny times.

Peanut Butter Eating Catholic

I took up volunteer work for a month with Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity in part to take a break from my self-indulgent travelly adventure, to lay down some roots for a while, try my hand at voling (obviously missing Surface Gallery voling back in Nottingham), and to extend my time in Kolkata.

Mother's Tomb

I helped at a home for mentally and physically handicapped women at Dum Dum (yes, the awful obvious cringe of the name of the place is not lost. The home is in an area called Dum Dum). Dum Dum was challenging and over the month we saw other voles give up on Dum Dum after a day with us.
I helped in a class teaching women numbers, colours, the alphabet, with some colouring, screechy singing, energetic drumming, and fun dancing led by the trainee Sisters, and beating out rhythms on various percussion instruments. At first I felt incredibly patronising towards these women (one of whom is older than I am) as I taught them simple school stuff. There would be brilliant days such as when Asha said "ten" for the first time ever!! Suporna who had limited motor skills but an eye for shapes and patterns. Small improvements felt so huge and it was great to see tiny progressions. It was so lovely to be able to see the individual personalities and talents of these women shine through after slowly getting to know them. Teaching them the hokey cokey was winner, even though 8 of the women were in wheel chairs we still got them moving and laughing at my dance skills! It's reinforced a massive respect  for anyone who works in this profession day in day out as it's tough to be constantly patient and entertaining and loving and educational. It was also personally rewarding and so many voles come away with a sense that they have taken so much more than they have managed to give out. I concur.

On the commute to work: goat happily balancing whilst munching on leaves

And alongside voling I even embraced the Catholic culture of morning mass (nowhere near every morning but still a first for me!) and Adoration in the evenings. I came to love Adoration - for me it was a chance to sit and chill and attempt a bit of meditation or write in my journal as I tried to process my thoughts and feeling and trials over the past few days as a vole. I never expected to come to India and end up going to Mass and surrounded by so many Catholics!

The sugary breakfasts of sweet chai, plain white bread, and sweet bananas with mid-morning break of yet more sweet chai and biscuits took its toll on my ever fluctuating sugar levels (this is the country with the biggest diabetes problem in the world. Not at all surprised!). I was feeling weak and in need of a protein fix. This came in the form of crunchy peanut butter bought at nearby Hogg Market. My first ever peanut butter purchase. Back home I am not a fan but out here my feeble body craved peanut butter asap.

Confusing Banyan

Captivating Calcutta. I got into Calcutta at 4am and couldn't believe the intriguing energy that came off the streets of the city. The place was alive. Everything happens on the streets here. Laundry, pavement-side water-pump showers, curries being cooked up, chai, fruit and veg and fish and live chicken sellers, kids playing cricket, peeps sleeping and living. This is India.

After a few pre-drinks at my temporary residence, Modern Lodge, we stumbled across this puja held down an alleyway inbetween two spare parts shops which were both still visible with some of the women sat off to one side in amongst the metal junk. We were blessed (red blob on forehead), presented with a red and gold ribbon, and then had a great view of traditional singing and dancing. Fun times!

I headed off to the Botanical Gardens to see the great old banyan tree via local bus (of course) and crossed the Howrah bridge and it was just an incredible and awesome sight. It's hard to describe just how many people there are in India. As we passed by Howrah station the place was just seething with masses and masses of people filling all available space as they journey purposefully and frequently across India.

There is no sense of personal space here and everyone happily piles one on top of the other at all times of day and night and in pretty much all situations. I guess with the sheer numbers there really is no extra space to be had and so this is the way that life is led. It's possibly part economical and also part collective psyche. Observing the streets out here seems comparable: the roads are so chaotic with rickshaws nonchalantly driving up the wrong side of the road, all forms of transport zipping in and around each other at full speed piled high with people and cargo, pedestrians moving between traffic with ease and confidence; and yet there are so few calamities because of this seemingly huge understanding of each other and between each other.

...although you do still see the cycle carts being loaded incredibly high with bulky goods cycling down the busy streets. And then there's the hand-pulled rickshaws lugging lazy passengers through the city.

After musings with fellow travellers, it appears that there is a sort of silent communication that floats above the typical but figures somewhere in this collective psyche. And then somehow, after some months in India, you feel your own self drawn into it, but then everything becomes so disorienting as you battle with the homegrown idea of striking out as an individual against merging and swaying with a collective Indian way of life. You start to loose your mind a little bit as you grapple with this and the first idea to go is any sense of time. So days later as we sit drinking rose lassis I remember that my ill friend wanted a 7Up but it turns out that was a request made days earlier. Hard to explain but it was pretty funny (and maybe slightly worrying!).

Point 3 reminding you not to bring a DEAD BODY on the metro (???!). Jeez!

So yea, the banyan tree was pretty awesome. It looked a lot like little trees all clumped together with some roots starting in the sky and working their way down towards earth. Also it was pretty chill out there what with the little lake, munching (squirrel-like) on cashews, and kids messing about in pedalos and not too many "one photo".

Part of  the great big old banyan tree

Yoganation

A week in an ashram in India, but of course: Sivananda Ashram, Neyyar Dam to be precise. It was actually refreshing to have a bit of structure and discipline to my somewhat flitty, floaty travely lifestyle option, although being woken up by bells sounding at 5.20am not so much.

The day started with an hour or so of chanting and meditation. I was not so great at the meditation but a bit of daydreaming so early in the morn whilst sitting cross-legged was a fine way to start the day, especially with the sun rising as the session progressed. Afterwards we had some chai or healthy herbal tea which tasted of smoke, followed by some yoga by the lake, onto non-spicy thali all-you-can-eat brunch, a related lecture, more yoga, more thali, more chanting. On one lunch break we swam in a lake with crocs, lions and elephants, as you do.

Musical entertainment during one chanting sesh with audience participation sweeping the masses. Those in yellow are the peeps on the intensive yoga teacher training course

Setting up for meal time in the sweltering dinning hall. Karma yoga of serving dinner was probably the toughest part of the week for me!! Sweat literally dripping off me and possibly into the food! Yum. The silver trays are the thali dishes set up with little partitions for various foods including curd, beetroot salad, chickpea combos, rices, sambar, curry, chapati blah blah. And all eaten by hand whilst sat cross-legged on the bamboo mats in silence.

It was a bizarre, interesting, physically demanding week. The life skills of yoga asanas are keepers and I've been trying to get in an hour or so every morn. The Sanskrit chanting is one to leave behind and caused a slight internal dilemma as I screechily chanted to Hindu gods. As part of the cynical group we questioned this in a lecture with the director and he and the masses cast all usual logic aside towards a leap of faith attitude: who cares that we don't know the meaning behind it, we're in India right and must embrace the chanting to deities we don't believe in. Hrmm. It was intriguing to say the least and the hours of yoga each day was brill.  We were also taught "eat to live, not live to eat" which just doesn't sit well with me as my daily activities are largely centered around all things food based. Masala dosa was, of course, my first non-ashram meal.

Cuppa Chai and Cardamom

I treated myself to two tea stations: Kumily and Munnar, Kerala. After a tour of a tea factory in Kumily (arrival by government bus of course with a little old lady next to me pointing out her yellow house and where I needed to get off the bus for my tea fix) I strolled around the tea plantation getting in amongst the small tea shrubs and watching the hardy and deft women pick kilos of tea. After muzzling my way in I was allowed to pick a few of the tea leaves using shears attached to a box to catch the leaves in! Lots of fun. This was slightly tainted by the male supervisor, who seemingly did very little but idly stand around and lie to tourists and his workers, who told these women that I was going to pay some sort of baksheesh for allowing me to photograph them. I'd promised no such thing. Awkward.

Munnar was like some little Switzerland complete with Swiss style alps, yummy dark chocolate (good chocolate here is a rarity and almost always disappointing - it just tastes of sugar, bah) and I was there with a Swiss girl. Bizarre but totally stunning (if cold!).

Cardamom galore in Kumily where I managed to have it in a juice (pineapple, papaya and heavily flavoured with cardamom)! Hooray. As well as copious amounts of cardamom tea. Lots of my highlights are pretty much food based. This cardamom juice was served alongside an interesting combo of two fried eggs on fried red onions and mounds of big bay leaves, accompanied by garlic butter and coriander (unpopular with other Castles) toast and some fresh cucumber garnish. Yum. This is one to recreate at home me thinks...

"one school pen"

Jetted off on a canoe tour of the lush backwaters of Alleppey, Kerala. The day started, in food terms, with idiyappam, cooked by our canoe guide's wife. It's a noodley rice mix sweetened up with coconut. Delish, (as are most foods!) although this one seems to be one for the home life. We ate in the guide's cute, modest home that overlooked rice paddies in one direction and a small canal on t'other. The guide, a man in his 50s, referred to me as his "daughter" as I am in fact the same age as one of his daughters and then a tattooed Danish girl in our group as his "sister" even though she's only five years older than me! Slightly offensive. Anywho, we took turns to paddle through the tiny canals of the backwaters whilst our guide had convos with his fellow villagers as we slowly drifted past at a leisurely rate. We were nearing the end of our idyllic, peaceful tour when a troupe of primary school kids passed us on the canal pathway. They started shouting the usual "one school pen!!" at us, and luck was with them that day, as the Dutch couple on the canoe had a big stash with them ready for just this moment. Pandemonium ensued as Mo hurled school pens from the boat to the kids on dry land. Some were being a bit cheeky and trying to nab themselves two. And then one over-enthusiastic little boy overstretched and ended up in the water up to his waist!! Mega lols!!

Ooty to Varkala Possible

6 state buses, totalling less than 300 Rupees, in minus 24 hours towards NYE on the beach!

In less than 24 hours me and fellow Hampi dweller missioned it south from cold and wet Ooty to Varkala beach in search of fresh fish, sea, sand, sunshine and, of course, a pina colada or three. We powered through from government bus to government bus with not even a free moment to grab a chai - testament to the grueling, non-stop, determined bus trip towards beaches and booze. We took six state buses with benches for seats thinly upholstered in the standard blue plastic leather mix, glassless windows, concertina blinds made of this standard blue pleather which are useful for when the sun or the wind gets too aggressive. (I have been known to burn sat on these buses - surprised? Not at all!) Elbowing our way onto these buses whilst carrying awkward backpacks and competing with the short but strong and determined Indian ladies to get a spot on the next available bus. And we succeeded every time, with only a few short hours spent stood up wedged in amongst the other locals dripping in sweat and covered in a grimy dust layer. And all for less than 300 Rupees! Crazy cheap!

We had a small glitch when we turned up at a bus station at 1.30am and the next wasn't until 5am so we settled down and napped on the bus station floor, naturally. And then we set off for the final leg to catch another two buses before breakfast. Such an incredible journey!! I'm converted to state buses and now don't even know how to book a private bus! Lols.

We bumped into Lizzie's chum on arrival in Varkala and abused her lukewarm shower (possibly the best of my life) and then headed for our second breakfast of the day on a clifftop overlooking the sea and just off shore we spotted dolphins! Such a fun mission!

Hampi Christmas

Such a beautiful, serene, tranquil, overwhelmingly striking place. I planned to move on after a few days, even booked a bus to Gokarna, but ended up staying over two weeks...I think it's the same for most who wind up there. Especially those who make it over the river to The Other Side. Hampi is mesmerising. I totally fell for the place. Did a spot of yoga some mornings. Had a go at bouldering amongst the immense and awesome rock formations. Hired a bicycle, "Miss India" no less, and pottered around, although this was slightly harder than anticipated as we had to push our bikes along pathways made of huge, ancient, uneven slabs of granite and then load them onto little boats to cross the rivers at two points. Smiling whilst cycling of course. And mid-trip we stopped for a delish thali served on typical banana leaf plate and eaten with hands. The waitress-come-chef-come-owner-homemaker showed us the Indian trick to this: get your hands messy, cover them in curd and curry and rice, position hands in a small little shovel and then flick it all in your mouth with your thumb.

And then there was my Indian Christmas and my first away from the shire. We celebrated on 24th December as is the German way with good intentions to recreate Christmas on the standard 25th December but after Manju's strong punch the night before we were a little worse for wear. The day started with yoga and bouldering, obvs. Lizzie, resident at Manju's for over a month, took on the role as events organiser and set us the task of decorating the Christmas tree (of sorts) with an array of gaudy Indian Christmas decorations and crafty and creative homemade bits n bobs. We even had presents under the tree with the additions of bows and ribbons getting more and more elaborate as we crafted away. We had a super tasty barbeque with veggie kebabs, pitta, hummus, chips...maybe not typical Christmas dinner nor typical Indian cuisine but it was tasty delicious. Yum. Then after dinner entertainment of jamming around a small bonfire. It possibly didn't resemble too much of a Christmas as I know it but the festive, Manju family spirit was there.

Taj Mahal Wonder

...and it really was a Wonder. Despite the crowds the Taj Mahal exuded peace and calm and serenity. It gave off a fairy-tale like magic as it loomed above big and bold, marble gleaming. A monument built on great romance conflicting with supreme egotism, but hey, I fell in love with the precious stone inlay work on marble. The mausoleum was a bit manic with crowds pushing forward to see the tombs trying to sneak in a photo and subsequently being whistled at by the guards - not at all peaceful but totally India! Possibly not worth my 750 Rupees but one's got to break the daily budget from time to time! Strict rules of no water, no food, no pens, no books (although I managed to smuggle the latter through despite my bag being searched) I think with the aim of stopping any loitering. The need for food and a nap lured us back onto the streets of Agra after 3 hours of Taj Mahal, this was after an epic all nighter bus journey from Pushkar, quick shower and brekkie, then straight to The Wonder. Taj. Done.

The Blue City

The Blue City originally flagging up the high-caste Brahmin residing in those walls but that blue hue apparently keeps bugs at bay too, very handy.

The Meherangarh Fort dominates the scene and takes a couple of hours to digest the accompanying audio guide. Well worth the Rupes. The clever double-whammy of the right angled fort entrance to stop those pesky elephants charging and seizing control is then followed by the hand prints of Maharaja Man Singh's widows who committed sati (widows sacrificing their lives on their husband's funeral pyre),including a few maids and mistresses. Some of the hand prints are so tiny, much smaller than my bean hands.

Jaisalmer

Onwards to Jaisalmer bordering the Thar desert. After a long and bumpy overnight bus ride, with accompanying horns with multiple tunes blaring throughout the night, we arrive in Jaisalmer to then be separated and surrounded by rickshaw drivers yelling "10 Rupees" and guest house hustlers bidding for our custom. Stressful times!  Jaisalmer Fort is made of yellow Jurassic sandstone and is still inhabited by two thousand people. The streets are quaint and windy and the facades beautifully intricate. It was nice to just have a wander and admire the old old buildings still full of life and living.

The sunset was glorious and gave the sandstone fort a warm, golden hue and then out in all directions was the flat, arid, sparse landscape. Pretty much incredible.

Udaipur

Young Indian honeymooners galore in Udaipur which was sweet to see as they shyly skipped around the City Palace. Relentless wedding processions taking over the streets with colourfully adorned horses, glum grooms, energetic dancing to brass bands (bizarre) and lots of drums, kids wielding hefty lights to contain and guide the processions, Rupee notes flung about, and finished off with a toxic generator lagging behind. 

The City Palace itself is a labyrinth of palace upon palace as successive rulers added their own mahal (palace) over a lengthy 300 years. Each one differs in style, some more ornate, gaudy, clinical, colourful, and extravagant than others.

And great if hazy sunset views as we wander past a Tibetan market, an elephant, a lake, to some temple with stunning and high views over Lake Pichola and the City Palace.

The Darjeeling Ltd

27.11.10 First train journey! Mumbai to Udaipur. Wes Anderson's 'The Darjeeling Ltd' is possibly solely responsible for this Indian adventure. Oh how different is film and my reality! Blue grubby leather benches cramming six berths into an open cabin. Not quite living the dream! But after a few hours I settle in and they have become one of my favourite activities. Watching the landscape change, moving from cityscape to villages to slums to countryside. Catching sight of those who live and work along the train lines is fascinating and insightful and a truer reflection of this country than walking down some touristy strip..."which country suffers without you?" and "one photo, one photo!" This first train journey was slightly marred by an aggressive and grabby beggar woman who put some sort of curse on me when I refused to give her money, as it was all in Hindi I'm oblivious to my plight!

Mr Bombay

26.11.10 Me and a fellow newbie traveller attempt the walking tour of Mumbai but maybe after half an hour we decide we need coffee and cake. This proved tricky, and looking lost, over bounds Mr Bombay fully fitted with blue contact lenses. He offers to take us to a place he recommends up the road serving coffee and traditional Indian sweets. Three hours later and we still haven't made it, but the impromptu tour and guide were entertaining. Tales of the time Mr Bombay rang up Arnie to talk shop aka bodybuilding a personal fave. He encouraged us to eat the local street food (overly sweet or incredibly greasy and fried) to which he had none: "too many calories".

Khote Sikke

25.11.10 After mere hours in India I was persuaded to work as an extra on a Bollywood shoot (it's the norm, every traveller is asked at least three times in a day I'm sure!). Lured in by 500 Rupees and food (maybe more so by the food than this great opportunity to begin my Bollywood acting career). The scenes were set on Goan beaches, so of course we were taken to grotty Mumbai beach as a cheap and local alternative. It featured an international cast: English, American, Swedish, Swiss, Australian, Canadian and of course Indian.The day mostly involved lots of walking, or "passing" as we know it in the trade, in straight lines, diagonal lines, solo, in pairs, in groups - there was a lot of scope here for us amateurs. The stylist put us in '90s beach clothes, so you know, we looked super on trend in front of the camera. I did the whole shoot with no make-up so now my white, pasty, boy-face will forever be captured and screened on Indian daytime tv. Not quite the Bollywood all-singing all-dancing spectacle I was hoping for!

Alu Muttar & Chapati

24.11.10 First taste of India. White radish. Promptly followed by alu muttar (pea and potato curry) and chapati, of course. Touched down in Mumbai on 24th November 2010 then quickly dashed into a tiny taxi for a couple of hours towards the Gateway to India. Immediately confronted with the high contrasts of India where slums run alongside luxury hotels. The traffic manic, alert, noisy. The taxi weaves through trucks and buses and rickshaws and deft mopeds and school children crossing what looks like a dual carriageway (to say the least). From Worcester to Mumbai, from tea and scones to curry and chai in a matter of hours.