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.