A Brave New India

And so it comes down to this... my final post... my final day.


Today, I spent the day in the ominously named 'Sector 18' in Noida. Full of shopping malls, designer shops, cafes, bars and five star hotels. A mecca for consumers, obviously and unsurprisingly the direction that any budding capitalist 'democracy' should taking with fervour! I guess it was a slightly bitter but realistic end to what has been a surreal and amazing adventure... slightly scary to see such a huge place with so much money and momentum peddling such a homogenised future with such power and passion. Maybe it would have been nicer to finish my trip in the dreamlike Varanasi rather than the painfully real Sector 18 but the last week... my last week... has offered me both ends of the spectrum of the country of a million colours. Again, I couldn't have asked for more.

And so I sit here, on my last day in India... about to order my Domino's pizza, watching Ruins (a gory American horror) ... slowly getting myself ready for the return. I've decided to nick my friends Ellen and Duncan's idea of finishing their blog with stats... so as to avoid waxing all lyrical and stuff. It's been a fucking blast!

Days Travelled: 117

Sunny days: 112

Quiet nights of sleep: 12

Total distance travelled by land: 9706km

Total distance travelled by air: 13400km

Town and cities visited: 36

States traversed: 13

Chais consumed: 634

Blog posts written: 34

Photographs taken: 4999 (exactly, that's 42 a day)

Near misses with other vehicles: 253 (more if you include the ones where I was asleep)

Miles driven on the wrong side of the road: 11

Times I literally believed I was about to die on the road: 7

Times ripped off: 43

Times I haggled for 5 minutes over Rs10 (12p): 121

Dogs almost tripped over: 1213

Number of temples visited: Enough to never want to see one again.


Kids talked to: 214

Times left speechless by abject stupidity: Countless

Cows dodged: 76

Fights seen: 2

Fights that made me wet myself at their malcoordinated nature: 2

Pickpocket attempts: 1 (on me, not by me!)

Pairs of sunglasses lost: 2

Hats lost: 1

Days ill: 9

Hours spent on the toilet: 213

Dead cows: 2 (one being eaten by a dog, one at the bottom of a waterfall on its back with its legs in the air... poor hilarious thing!)

Banks I saw which were guarded by octogenarians with elephant guns: 7

MacDonalds visited: 0

Hippie travellers who made me want to commit murder: 132

Ali Baba pants seen: 132

Ratio of ashram/yoga/spiritually enlightened travellers who were also marketing/branding/PR executives: 1:1

Times I had to stop and stare in wonderment: I'll have to spend the next year or so remembering all of those times.
And finally, I've organised some of my favorite photos from the trip into a collection of new sets for you guys.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/collections/

Thanks so much for reading and looking. I can't wait to see you all.

Much love!

Varanasi

And so it come down to this... my penultimate post. The final leg... and my last new experience of my personal epic. And what better way to punctuate it than with Varanasi: City of Lights, of Gods, of Shiva... a full stop.

I came, as I have done so many times in India, with my preconceptions, expectations, fears... and as usual had them all torpedoed ruthlessly by India's perpetual need to confound and be contrary (my favorite aspect of this place by far... and also my least favorite... which is kind of fitting).

I was expecting filth and hordes of snapping tourists and pickpockets and hassling shopkeepers and money hungry false prophets and stampeding buffalo and the stench of charred flesh. What I found was quite different. Thanks in no small part to two friends I made in Sunil and Amar (see the photo)... two Varanasi locals I bumped into just after arriving who did nothing but do everything to show me an amazing time in Varanasi. They took me to all of the temples... including getting me into the Golden Temple (not usually allowed for foreigners... and if so usually at a very steep cost). This did involve a farcical interview with a room full of armed police officers in which I had been instructed to stick to the story that I was a practicing Hindu... especially painful when they asked me what I knew about Shiva... I won't give my spluttered response or try to describe to you the new shade of red that my cheeks invented. Painful, but worth it. They also took me out on their boat, to get drunk and watch the fire pujas (prayers) to mother Ganga on the Main Ghat, took me to their local hangouts, chai, eateries but also did a fine job of introducing me to all the locals who might otherwise have been hassling me for cash... I felt properly at home by the end of the first afternoon and know more Indians here that probably the rest of India combined. Generally they have been fricking legends and I can't thank them enough, though this post is most definitely dedicated to them and their posing ways!

Oh yeah... they also lived right next to the burning ghats and over the past few days I have spent a lot of time with them drinking chai and watching the pyres. Two hundred bodies a day... twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year burn on a small area on the banks of the River Ganges. It can be pretty gruesome to watch... sometimes a little too much. But it was also strangely beautiful... it seemed to make so much sense after all of the things I have seen in India... it seemed to fit so well. Even in death there is so much vibrancy and colour and tradition and smell (of sandal wood and spice not hair and flesh) and stoic virtue (the family are not supposed to show any emotion as they watched their loved ones turn to ash) and Indian-ness on the banks of yet another epic... the Ganges. It just seemed to ring with the same sound that I've been hearing but not really noticing all the way through my journey around India... it seemed to be bound by that same invisible thread that people say holds this country together.

I don't know, as ever I am unable to express in words what I felt as I watched... just that it made sense, which isn't a sense that this country seems to offer too freely.

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A minor aside about the photo below: This lady spends her time living by the burning ghats, I met her briefly in one of the chai shops that Sunil and Amar frequent. Years ago she was brought here by her family to die (quite common as it is a great honour to die in Varanasi) ... she didn't die and so her family left her here... alone. She was quite well off and was left with a lot of gold and jewellery but she was conned out of it all by ne'er do wells and is now destitute and lives on the streets off the kindness of strangers like Sunil and Amar. Apparently her nephew came up a year or two ago to take her home but she refused, she said she would stay in her home, Varanasi, and wait to die. I thought it was a pretty cool story.

Fear and Loathing in Bhaktapur

New Photos Up of Bhaktapur, Kathmandu and Sikkim (Finally): http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/ (Unfortunately none of the night photos from Bhaktapur came out too well.. funny videos though!)

I've spent the last few days in Bhaktapur, a beautiful town just outside Kathmandu where almost every single house is a hand carved wooden masterpiece. It's been really nice to chill out for a few days here having given up on Mt Everest due to abject laziness. It's also Nepali New Year, 2067!!! This means the following. Everyone gets really, really, really drunk... for like a whole week solid.

It's so funny being here, having been in India for so long. I mean, Indians drink. And when they drink they get wasted (in exact proportion to the number of seconds it takes them to neck their litre of whiskey.), but it always seemed pretty good natured, with laughing and singing and falling and joking.

Here seems very different and I don't know if this is just a Bhaktapurian thing or a Nepali New Year thing. They are properly agro (that's aggressive)... the men (and it's only the men) strut around, chests out...preening like peacocks, hammered and proud as if it is some ancient birthright (which it most likely is) knocking into people (me) staring people out (also me) generally acting like twats. There are men in colourful hats who are the worst, I think they are the town elders as; a)They sit around doing nothing, b)They're all obnoxious, c)They are the most drunk and the kids who for the most-part imitate as kids do. I've been observing amused the last few days, taking a break from being sociable or interacting with anyone beyond restaurant transactions, as I watch the men of this town descend ever deeper into drunken debauchery... as the nights get louder and the men more prickishly aggressive and drunk and stupid.

There is a tradition of pulling a huge temple on wheels up a hill which I watched the other night. It was ridiculous... apparently people die every year as they fall under the massive wooden wheels. I saw nothing of the sort, only a hilarious display of widespread drunken ineptitude as a hundred men screamed and tugged and snatched at the ropes for two hours only to move it approximately not-an-inch... I haven't laughed so much in months... (I was not alone in the this... the women it seems do see the funny side in all this).

Hilarious. But they do have strong stomachs. I saw two goats and three chickens having their heads removed by hungover men this morning. Having their heads removed by hungover men with rusty knives and their blood drenched over the many statues of gods that are dotted around this town. Headless animals running and kicking and bleeding their frantic asses around the squares was enough to turn my stomach... not it seems, theirs.

And so tonight is apparently the night of fights, where everyone throws stones and punches and kicks their fellow man through the squares of Bhaktapur. Again, apparently an ancient yearly tradition with its roots firmly in the brain-oxygen repressing nature of beer and whiskey. I'd love to stay for this but I'm trying to relax and strangely don't want to be hit in the face by a rock. Back to Kathmandu for me.

Photos

Hey there: New photos are up... will hopefully have the Yumthang, Thangu and Kathmandu ones up in a little while too.

New Sets: Darjeeling, Varkala and Kayakumari (the southern tip of India):

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

Kathmandon't

Hey all, apologies for the delay since the last post! (and sorry for the lack of photos, internet connections really suck out here) I guess I was waiting for something as special as Yumthang and Thangu to write about and unsurprisingly have been left wanting...

I have learnt/learned (which one? which one?) a few things in the last few days since I last put fingers to keys:

Firstly, I learnt/learned that moving from the clear air of the mountains to the stifling pollution of an Indian border town is quite a shock for my newly-smoke-free and slightly gloating lungs... seriously though, you really notice the pollution as you come down from the mountains!

Secondly, I learnt/learned that if you are feeling ill you shouldn't even think about getting on an overnight, 20-hour cramped coach ride from the border of Nepal to Kathmandu... you shouldn't think about it and you most definitely (unless you are as big a fool as I) shouldn't actually do it!

Thirdly, I learnt/learned that if you do, as I did, decide to get on a 20-hour cramped coach ride from the border of Nepal to Kathmandu you should not expect to arrive feeling too healthy. You should not expect to recover quickly.

And so it was I spent the first of my days in Kathmandu feeling like absolute shite, a combination of tiredness from having travelled around 3000k in 10 days or so, descended around 16,000ft in 2 days, having had my air degrade in quality by a factor I never want to know and having travelled for 20-hours in serious (if drugged to the eye-balls) discomfort. Boo-hoo... poor old me.

Anyways... I did manage to find my way (courtesy of my two lovely new friends Henry and Juanell) to a lovely hotel in a quiet part of Thamel (the tourist area) and from here I have been able to make the odd darting and sometimes even meandering missions into the heart of Kathmandu, before being forced back to my hotel for reasons neither you nor I really want me to go into.

Kathmandu is a cool city, it seems, I am sad that I have been feeling so low on the energy front as it seems to be the sort of town that could absorb the energies of the most annoyingly enthusiastic traveller. Thamel itself is packed to the rafters with shops selling all sorts of goods, some nice, some tacky. It was kind of funny how many hippy, eco travellers you'd see walking around... the sort who wouldn't dream of buying Nestle or saying a nice word about Shell but thought nothing of buying loads of child-laboured jumpers and necklaces, crystals ripped from pristine mountains by unrepresented peasant workers and flying them half way round the world to adorn themselves and their like-minded friends in self-congratulatory splendour... I have to say that I too was among the purchasers, a few gifts for some of my readers perhaps... but then my favorite chocolate bar is the Kit-Kat after all.

Anyhows, fellow travellers aside (a lot of the ones out here do look a little odd... slightly murderous looks in their eyes...) Kathmandu has been lovely, kind of like Delhi's shorter sibling. I've visited the Monkey Temple, Durba Square, Indra Chowk and got lost a number of times in the side streets in between. I've gorged on momos and veg thukpas... I also did something very silly last night, which was to stand on the roof of my five story hotel during a huge thunderstorm. It was pretty exhilarating and the first thunderstorm of my adventure... just what I needed to get me back on my feet. And so I go, to Bhaktapur and then Nagarkot before returning to India for that most crazy of Indian towns... Varanasi!

Sikkim is Kinda Cool

I have recently made the rash decision to miss out West Sikkim and go straight to Nepal instead. It's a hard life.

And so... my last few days have been nothing short of incredible. I left Darjeeling for Gangtok in East Sikkim a few days ago with the express intention of visiting the northern valley of Yumthang, a place I stumbled across during my 'researching' of this trip (that basically means googling 'things to see in India' while I was supposed to be working out my notice at CAF!)... I saw one photo of this place and knew that I had to see it and to be honest have been more excited about seeing this place than any other place so in India... the Himalayas dude!!!

So, I managed to find myself a spot on a tour with a cool bunch of Canadians, a Norwegian and a Australian guy (who literally was Dali). Permits at the ready, guide in the front seat, off we went in our jeep. The roads in Sikkim are pretty fricking awful. Carved, rather hacked, out of the mountain side we skidded and bounced our way along, inches from the crumbling edge, for nine exhilarating hours... through canyons and tree lined valleys... the occasional glimpse of the majestic snow-topped Himalayas through closer mountains giving us just the briefest rush of excitement as to what lay ahead. So what lay ahead then?

I would let the picture speak for itself but I need to get this off my chest:

I have literally never in my life seen anything as stunning as what I saw that day. Not Yumthang, that was waiting for us the next morning. The Thunga Valley, above the tree line at 16,000 feet, flanked my snow covered mountains to the West and jagged rocky peaks to the East it was like no place I have ever been but exactly the place I had been yearning to see. It was so wild, windswept, freezing, epic, isolated, beautiful... blah blah blah... I loved it, I coined a realisation about myself there and then as I thought about all the different places I'd seen in India, all of which seem to have been put into perspective against this cold Himalayan backdrop.


My head definitely lies in Cities, my heart on the Beach and my soul in the Mountains.












It was so wonderfully peaceful in an aggressive and utterly unfriendly way... so different from the rest of my experience of India; the cities, the beaches, the green countryside this was not. And so we trekked down the centre of the valley, over frozen mountain streams, across boulders and marshland for half the day before, exhausted and shell-shocked, retiring to our hostel for the best night's sleep I have had in longer that I can remember.

And so the next day to Yumthang, this time perhaps I will let the picture do the talking as what I have said above goes for this beautiful valley also. The only difference being that Yumthang was far gentler... the sort of place you could imagine walking through barefoot, striking up polite conversations with the local flora and fauna all of whom's sole intention in life was to make your life as comfortable as possible... it was so picturesque, rhododendrons in full bloom, moss covering the floor, prayer flags fluttering in the chill breeze... the Yang to Thangu's Ying.











And so now I write this, rushing to go to Nepal because I cannot for a second imagine that anything in Sikkim could beat the two places I have been so fortunate to visit. I hope the photos give you a sense. Now I only have to go and find a good view of Everest!

From the City to the Mountain

So the trains came and went... three nights, 2300 kilometers from Varkala to Calcutta, approximately 215 cups of chai and very little food. It was actually far more painless than I was expecting, almost enjoyable... probably due to the fact that it was the first time I had been in an air conditioned environment since my train down to Goa. In fact that's definately why I enjoyed it.

Calcutta was amazing. Without question my favorite city so far. It just felt so comfortable, so easy to walk around, the people so easy to chat to and the hassle so easy to deflect. I'm not sure whether I am just getting a bit more used to things but it just seemed far easier, as if the city was a bit more coherent, a bit more together with itself, less disjointed and aggressive and desperate... as other cities have seemed. I spent approximately ten of the thirty-six hours I spent in Calcutta aimlessly walking around, something I haven't been tempted to do so much in other places mainly due to the traffic and filth and the hassle and the confusion... not so much in Calcutta. The street food stalls were amazing, and all more inviting and more relaxed than elsewhere I have been. So far it's been the only city (and this includes small towns) where I've been able to sit outside on the street and drink tea and coffee without getting hassled which felt great. To cut a short story shorter, I loved it and if you go to India and enjoy cities you have to visit it... great food, great people (probably the most good looking too, not that I'm superficial or anything)... just pretty darned cool.

And now I am in the mountains... an overnight train and a hairy shared jeep ride and I suddenly find myself in another India... Darjeeling. Two thousand metres up, I feel a million miles away from the last three months. The faces, the landscape, the climate, the attitudes... all so different here... it feels like I imagine Nepal will be and Tibet might be. And the Himalayas... I am in them but I can't see them... the weather is very cloudy right now as I sit writing this from an internet cafe literally in the middle of quite a loud storm cloud. I caught a glimpse of Kanchenjunga this morning, the third highest peak in the world... it sent a chill down my spine... I am so excited about seeing more of the Himalayas I can't begin to describe...

...well I can, but that will have to wait till the next post which I will write in Sikkim - home to beautiful mountains and the Yumthang Valley which I have been waiting the whole trip to see...

Southern-most Ed

Just a quick post today. I am leaving paradise... I made a decision to get off my beached ass and do as much as possible in my last month and week. I will explain this plan later. I'm currently in Varkala in the south of Kerala which is itself at the south of India... as I only have a very short time left in this neck of the palm trees (at the time of writing a mere six hours) I decided that I should take the opportunity to go down to the southern tip of India.

A short (relatively) train ride away and there I was.... the closest to the equator I have ever been... metres from the southern-most tip of the subcontinent.... I walked down to what surprised me as being quite a beautiful piece of rugged coastline, full of the obligatory load of uncontemplative thrashing noisy Indian tourists and me. It's a pretty impressive feeling, incredibly satisfying to have made it all the way down and beautiful to look over a body of water so large... that would, on a map, be intersected by huge dotted lines delineating the beginnings and ends of the three seas that intersect it... strangely enough nature doesn't recognise this. I spent a while trying to clamber over some rocks with a camera to try to get further out that everyone else if only for a moment. It wasn't to be but I was close and happy to be there. On my way to catch the boat to one of the islands off the coast however I spotted a collection of rocks which spread itself quite far out to sea... I was sure that if I got there I could be a little further out to the rest... so dodging broken glass and pot-head beggars and crashing waves and jagged falls I made my way slowly out to sea until the end of the road. Quite literally I guess. As I stood looking out to sea I was literally the southern most human being in mainland India.

I went out to the islands eventually... I think there too... depending on which you count, I managed to win myself the accolade of southern-most person. I was also amused to discover what the southern-most functional building in India is. A temple? No. A Museum? No. A Fort? No.... it's a toilet. For men and for women you will be glad to hear. This made me laugh and was the perfect Indian punctuation to what has been an incredible joy of frustrations getting down here. Thank you whoever it was who decided to build that there.

And so to me. I made it back yesterday evening after a couple of coach journeys, my first road crash (which involved half destroying a tiny red car with our massive green bus... noone injured thankfully) and a train journey. I am now the morning after, my final Keralan morning, contemplating a 48 hour train journey which will take me from Varkala, via Chennai all the way up to Calcutta. It took me two months and three weeks to get south, its going to take me 48 hours to do the reverse. Fortunately Valium is not prescription out here. I'll let you know haw that goes.

Cold Isolation

Perhaps a little too dramatic a title but I have been ill and as a man I must live up to the prophecy (perhaps self-fulfilling) of wallowing in it. I have been so alone!!! In bed for almost four days straight bar a minor 5 hour bus journey and the odd danger fraught excursion to the internet cafe. It not that I feel that ill, just that being anywhere more than 12.5 metres from a toilet is not a thought that fills my heart with joy (as opposed to being 12.5 metres from one which, for the past few days at least, has). So I have managed to spend this time well, eating little, speaking less, watching approximately too many crap films (list below... the ones I remember at least

Shade
American Gangster (in two sittings)
Independence Day
Death Race starring Jason Statham
The Man Who Wasn't There (Actually one of my favorite films ever so thank you Mr Inconsistent-Film-Scheduler)
8 Legged Freaks
Tremors
Confessions of a Shopaholic
That American film with Ricky Gervais where he dies and starts speaking to dead people
Shutter
The Invasion (barely passable remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers without the one thing that made it great.... the ending!!!)
Tremors
Some american high school flick
Raging Bull (again thank you Mr Inconsistent-Film-Scheduler!)
Planet Terror
3 episodes of Entourage
1 episode of Heroes
2 episodes of 2 and a Half Men (I know, I know...)

Ah, it has been fun... this illness subsided around four days ago and since then I have fallen in love with Cochin and its Martial Arts-Katakali-esque-Ginger-factory-laundry-goodness... met a new friend, John (another Irish guy from Cork who I met on the bus from Ooty) been reunited with another friend, Viddi an cool Icelandic dude I met in Palolem and also reunited with an old enemy... the common cold!!! Unbelievable... 35 degree heat, cliff top palm tree enclosed beach hut, beautiful ocean and I've managed to get a cold! But I can't I and won't complain, I have been combating it by ingesting at least three litres of water every morning, through my nose, as I attempt and fail to body board waves taller than your average elephant. I am feeling quite bruised and scraped by this stretch of ocean which is far rougher than the gentle lapping water of the bay of palolem... far more fun too.

And so that is the current me, sitting in the Kerala Coffee House on top of a cliff overlooking the Lakshadweep Sea as I sop a fresh Pineapple juice and plan the next leg of my journey which will hopefully take me down to the Southern tip of India before rocketing me up to Sikkim via Mamallapuram and Calcutta before heading to Nepal via Varanasi, only to finish my trip with a return journey to Rajasthan to see all the things which I missed the first time round and all this in a month and a week. How does that sound?

Ps: New photos here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/

Photos

Lots of new photos finally up in 3 sets: Hampi Colour, Hampi Black & White and City of Lost Children at the following link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

City of Lost Children

It was a sad day to leave Hampi, our beautiful boulder-strewn Hampi... definitely the most naturally stunning place I have been to so far in India and definitely up there in the most stunning ever. I say our beautiful Hampi in relation to the little group Mark and I picked up on the train to Hampi, Louise and Xavier. Louise, who is currently sitting below me as I write this email form the gayest train this side of Gaysville (more later) is a lovely Irish girl from Cork and Xavier a cool french guy from Paris. We hung out together over our time in Hampi and I would say each grew equally attached to the place. It was a shame to split up the group, but split up we did on Tuesday morning when myself and Louise left the safety of our little Mowgli Villas toy town huts and the comfort of Babylon (a gazebo over which each of our huts overlooked and which catered to our every realxed need for the five evenings we spent in Hampi). We left for Badami, about three hours north of Hampi, home to some caves that I'd read about briefly in the guidebook.

We got to the bus station at 7.30am and I have to say I was slightly apprehensive of my first Indian bus journey... I had images of seven hours delays and impossible crushes, incomprehensible timetables, elbows to the face, neck and groin, babies with razor blades cutting holes in my bag to reach it's contents before their older brothers stole the bag... images of chickens and spit covered chairs and an old man sitting on my knee. Not for the first time, my ignorant and perhaps prejudice expectations of things in India were gently dissolved. The bus station was relatively quiet, the staff helpful, the bus pretty empty, clean and free from thieving-child. So I put my ipod onto shuffle and gazed out of the window to the sound of Ray Charles 'What'd I Say' and let it happen. I am looking forward to more bus journeys... bus journeys and odd songs, not songs odd by their nature just songs odd to their environment of bus rides through rural India (that is effectively every song on my ipod). It has made the ten or so hours of buses I have take over the past couple of days pretty interesting, and at times odd... listening to There is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths minutes before you pass the aftermath of a fatal collision between a car and coach for example.

Anyhows, after that little cheery note. We reached Badami without a hitch... a dusty little town with overpriced hotels with dusty rooms... a dusty little town with some beautiful caves cut out of the rocks that loom above. There are four caves in all and all were beautiful... full of stunning carvings and statues and bats, I have put some of the photos on Flickr, unfortunately (or fortunately) most of the photos I took were of the children... so many dusty children in this dusty little town. The first few that hit us were normal... but we slowly realised (that is the dusty dogs barking like at us, the only fair-skinned people around, made us realise) that not too many western tourists make their way to Badami... a shame as it is really pretty (a little bit dusty though). So kids 1-5 were nothing out of the ordinary... but they began to outnumber the adults by 3 to 1... all curious, all big fans of the camera, all heart-meltingly sweet (that said I did begin to worry at times that they were going to herd me and Louise into a corner and stone us to death for our heart-melting sweet money - where does that come from huh?!). Anyhows, as you can see from the photos we met one or two kids in Badami and they will likely live in the memory longer than the caves... odd that.

And now as ever, I hint at something early on (remember the gay train?!) and then write for too long and leave myself having to rush the end. So Louise, recovering from some mild food poisioning from a Thali the night before, and I set off for Mysore from Hubli (near Badami) early the next day... we were on the train when I began to notice something a bit odd... slightly bouncier steps in the youths, slightly rosier cheeks, slightly more roving hands when I walked by in the corridor. Yes, you guessed it, I had found myself on the Tranny Train... and you think I'm joking!? For some reason 42 gays (as they introduced themselves) were on a fun week trip from Mumbai to Mysore... they were a funny old group, flamboyant in a way I think any new community has to be to survive in what must be a hostile culture as this... but all lovely if a little too touchy feely. Unfortunately their English and my Marathi wasn't good enough to really get into too much of a conversation about things, but it was fascinating to observe them, and perhaps more so the happy and friendly reactions of their fellow (albeit all middle-class) train passengers... not every day.

And so I will leave you... in Mysore, a city I am not so keen to return to and even less keen to write about... till the next interesting happening.

Hampi Days

(Flickr photos pending broadband hitting India)

Hey all. So, I finally managed to free myself from the inert pull of Palolem and Goa... close your eyes literally for a second and you have been there for a week... dare to meditate and put yourself into a trance and you might never come back!

So, myself and Mark left on Thursday... a 6 hour sleeper train from Goa to Hampi... we travelled in Sleeper Class which I think is the 3rd lowest class and the lowest I have travelled so far. I was pleasantly surprised by the pleasant journey. Empty carriages, beautiful scenery, nice travel partners, fantastic service (literally everything is catered for by the million and one Wallahs selling all sorts of treats at knockdown prices) and only two cockroaches... all for about £3, money well spent.

We got into Hospet around 4pm and got a rickshaw the 17km to Hampi... a pretty crazy ride. All was going well for the first 10km or so... the usual fare of blind corner over and undertaking, potholes, cows, Tata trucks etc etc. Then we came to a bend in the road, nothing special about it... just like any other bend in fact. Other than the fact that it turned out to be a portal to another dimension! A portal to another time! A time when great lizards terrorized the earth and giant and huge dragon birds blocked out the sun... it was a gateway to another land... a gateway to the land that time forgot!

Ok, this (as with pretty much everything that I write (including that)) was not strictly true. But the landscape as you enter Hampi changes dramatically... the litter in the fields turns swiftly from plastic bottles and bags to fifty ton boulders, seemingly placed there for some purpose well beyond our need to know. They slowly become more and more dense until they pile up into massive rock mountains a hundred meters tall... interspersed with beautiful Hindu temples and luscious paddy fields and palm trees, it really is some of the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen... and beautiful and relaxing and inspirational to be staying in.

I thought that I was pretty relaxed in Goa but have reached a new level here... really need to stop doing this lest i actually melt into the ether. Anyhows... need top head as it is late and I must eat! Let me finish by giving a brief summary of the activities I have been up to since my arrival the day before yesterday:

• Watching the sunrise across the prehistoric landscape sitting cross legged on a rock on a semi-dried up river bed... twice.
• Walked through boulder strewn landscapes stumbling across stunning and humble temples alike.
• Stumbled across an off-the-beaten-track-trail to a waterfall, through alien rock formations (see photos) to swim at the top of it.
• Got blessed by an Elephant
• Marvelled at an amazing statue of Ganesh (now my favorite God)

And tomorrow I plan to do a little more... Hampi fricking days!!!

Holi S£$%!!!

Just a short one here... but the photos can make up the word count and set the scene:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623421186071/

The Festival of Colour, or Holi... a festival of radiance in the universe. During this festival, different waves of radiance traverse the universe, thereby creating various colours that nourish and complement the function of respective elements in the atmosphere (thanks again Wikipedia). Also a fine excuse to run through the streets high on life or booze or narcotics or all three and throw handfuls of luminous coloured dye in strangers' faces.

It seems so obvious in hindsight, that turning random strangers into your own little Jackson Pollock interpretations can be so fun! The minute someone was stained with even the slightest amount of coloured dye their countenence shifted... colourful intentions filled their eyes as they grabbed for the nearest bag of electric blue dye or bright pink water... intentions to colour their assailant ever so slightly more than they had been moments earlier. And so it spread, across the beaches and streets, over hills and plains... into the towns and cities, throughout the Sub-Continent like some psychadelic zombie invasion. It was so much fun! Everyone involved was, without exeption, lost in the ludicrous nature of the lingering moment. I doubt the question didn't cross the minds of everyone involved as to whether the world would be a happier place if Holi happened a little more often.

I doubt that anyone who asked that question was in doubt as to the answer.









Happy Holi people!!! Coming to a town near you one day soon I hope!!!

Lazy Days

I think my heart stopped today... due to inactivity. I was on Padnam beach in South Goa, sipping a White Russian with my new Icelandic friend Viddi when, for a brief moment, I think I died. It was kind of scary in an exhilarating kind of way... a relaxation induced brush with death. But I recovered... and am now decided not to repeat the error.

This isn't all strictly true. I don't think I actually died... there was most definitely still brain activity and I think my heart was still beating, just at a ridiculously reduced rate. I am just trying to illustrate the fact that I have relaxed more in the last few days than I think I ever have... though I haven't been purely inactive.

My days, these days are proceeding thus: Get up at 6.30am (bizarre, scary and quite cool side effect since the cessation of the smoking), swim round the big rock in the beautiful sheltered bay which my beach hut overlooks, drink coffee while the sun rises over the palm trees, talk about how amazing everything is with my new friends out here, go running on Palolem beach, avoid the one British alcoholic who at the time of writing has been on a 3 day vodka bender, swim some more, eat lunch, drink beer, swim while the sunsets, eat dinner, drink cocktails, sleep. Am I now suitably hated? Good... I deserve your scorn.

I absolutely understand why people end up staying here for years... it is beautiful and potentially such a tranquil existence out here. Though it is a bit false, a little bit Clapham-on-Sea, I am currently surrounded by a number of ageing Hippies with brand new Macbooks, it is effectively a Western idealised version of hippy heaven constructed, supported and protected by money from corrupt Indian politicians, Russian mafia and drugs. Not all perfect in paradise but I am going to enjoy it for at least a week more.

Like I just said. I deserve your scorn.

Bollywood or Bust

Hey there, yes you have probably guessed it. I am a star. I have set blinding light to the flame that will define my scorching ascent to stardom over the coming months. I have started a journey that will become a legend. I was an extra in a Bollywood movie.

Cool huh?! I arrived in Mumbai on Wednesday morning for my first of two nights before getting the train down to Goa on the Friday. I had literally just got out of the taxi when a guy, amusingly enough called Charlton: 'Casting Agent for Foreign Models', stopped me in the street and asked me if I wanted to be an extra in a Bollywood film. Damn straight!! (My initial reaction, as with any random approach in India is to say 'No thank you, please f#$% off'.... I changed my mind pretty quickly). I couldn't believe it, only one full day in Mumbai and I was filling it by being in a Bollywood film!

The film's called Housefull and is mainly set in London (hence the westerners wanted), it's supposed to be a pretty big release. I and about 40 other westerners were picked up from McDonalds and driven to about an hour out of Mumbai to (I kid you not) Filmistan Studios. There we were summarily told to disrobe and dress ourselves in a range or sublime and ridiculous outfits... the girls were all forced into tiny miniskirts whereas us boys were given a mish mash of early 80s Oxfam rejections (I wondered where all the clothes go that charity shops don't want... now I know). I was allowed to keep my brown linen shirt and forced to add beige chinos, a grey waistcoat and shiny black leather shoes which fitted well but had about two and a half inches extra toe space. I looked like a ridiculous Buster Keaton impersonator.

At about 1 we were called to set, there we were faced with that singular monstrosity that is the Bollywood interpretation of a London club. There was a massive wall of lightbulbs in the shape of the Union Jack, a troup of London lady dancers all dressed like the whores that London girls are and of course the obligatory mix of Indians and Westerners in cocktail dresses and waistcoats... for a moment there I could close my eyes and smell the bacon, it was wonderful.

I'm waffling, sorry, basically the day proceeded, they were shooting a dance scene with the male and female leads, both famous bollywood stars (check the link). They were supported by the aforementioned scantily clad uk local dancers (mostly aussie girls working in Mumbai on 6 month contracts) who were in turn supported by us in the background. There were lots of takes with no one shot taking more than 15-20 seconds.... all we really had to do was dance. I made the bright move of partnering myself with a beautiful tall blonde Canadian girl who I am hoping a) eclipsed my terrible dancing and b) I think guaranteed me at least a couple of seconds screen time (Catherine, if you are reading this, your dance moves still haunt me!)

We danced and danced and danced till 9pm when we were finally released... I loved every minute of it... probably the most fun I've had so far this trip, and we got paid for it! 500rs, equivalent to one nights accomodation, thank you Bollywood! I was really sad to leave Mumbai and I will most definately return, it seemed, in the short time that I was there, to be a really cool place and I felt far more at home there than anywhere else that I have been in India so far... that said I have just arrived in Palolem, Goa and am staying in a little hut overlooking a beautiful quiet bay... I think I may have found another home away from home... I'll post soon with more details aimed at making you hate me x

Baby's Day Out

Well not quite, he's 17 I think... but on Sunday I was volunteered to take the grandson of the family out for the day... fully at my own expense... it was a lovely gesture for them to express through me and my wallet. I was touched.

I didn't really mind, I like the boy, Manoj... he has a nice full face smile and has been very helpful in the hotel for the last few weeks. We got in the taxi at 7am sharp and set off to Kumbalghar Fort around two and a half hours drive away. At this point I have to take a moment to describe the driving in India, never before in my life have I experienced such a puerile, reckless, unempathetic and downright selfish subspecies of humanity that can compare to the Indian driver... and as I have seen no women behind the wheel I have to assume this refers only to men. Without exception, when an Indian man gets behind the wheel of a car they automatically turn into a 14 year with a new racing game... that is an incredibly stupid 14 year old.... on no level can their driving be defended... they overtake on the inside on normal roads... overtaking on blind bends at high speed seems the preferred overtaking point (preferably on a rocky mountain road... that's the jackpot).... if they miss their turning, not to worry, just pull a u turn and drive full speed the wrong way... and it seems the speed limit holds whether your driving on the correct side of the road or not (and you are well within your rights to hoot furiously at any oncoming traffic)... chicken seems to be a common pursuit with the losing driver having too brake violently and eat gravel (this happened at least 14 times in this day)... they are (and sorry if you are offended) fucking morons behind the wheel... it would be hilarious if it wasn't so fricking dangerous. Anyhows, Kumbalghar was pretty and big and fort-like (see the photos in following link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623313916455/).

Next, via some equally ridiculous driving (I literally, and I am not joking, wished for us to crash head on with countless vehicles in order to teach both our driver and theirs a valuable lesson.. and this has nothing to do with the fact that I've quit smoking... honest!), we made it to Ranakpur, a stunning Jain Temple... many hundreds of years old (I did my reading up on this one) carved out of one piece of marble (that's a lie), it has no walls... just marble columns (that's true) and was pretty stunning, and very temple like... again see photos in following link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/72157623313913803/).

So that was Sunday, this is Monday and tomorrow is Tuesday... which is my departure day. Cannot wait, I'll be arriving in Mumbai on Wednesday morning... this'll be the start of part two of my travels I think...

Wedding Photos

The wedding photos are finally up: (not great but a couple of nice ones...)

http://www.flickr.com/photos/cosimo-roams/sets/

Do The D.A.N.C.E.

I've had a pretty nice few days since the wedding... On Tuesday I was on my second working day with no work to keep me occupied.. it's been a little frustrating and was feeling a little lonely for other reasons so decided to go for a walk through town.

As I was walking along I recognised a familiar frame peering through a shop window. It was Alfie from Agra. I had been told that you end up bumping into people on your way round India but I still found it strange that in a country of over 1 billion it actually happens. Anyhows, it was a pleasant surprise, especially as we had both tried and failed to contact each other since Agra and were both under the impression that the other did not want to meet up. Seems that the cosmos saw it p to right that wrong.

Alfie was travelling with a group of Italians from the Veneto region which was nice, I had a chance to practice a little of my Italian with them. I spoke to Pasqualino quite a lot, a lovely guy in his early fifties who had been coming to India for the last 7 or so years to compliment his new found respect of his body and mind... he told me of his hedonistic days of vice and 'sin' and of his new life and quest for peace... I've been getting really annoyed with the hippies out here, Ellen and Duncan described them as the 'Namaste Crowd'. That is those people who walk around putting their palms together in thoughtless piety and greeting everyone, English-speaking or not with 'Namaste'. They also dress like no Indian would dream of... are likely searching for their spiritual centre and love the environment (despite having had to fly and pollute for over 4,ooo miles for the pleasure)... they also seem to be the least friendly of people out here, I get the impression that greeting westerners (they rarely seem to) will sully their journey... 'cliquey' doesn't get close. That said, I really liked Pasqualino, he was a lovely guy who in the short time we spoke left me feeling really positive... a short but sweet encounter.

(Also, going back to the Namaste crowd, I have had conversations with a few Indians now, old and young, men and women, who have told me they always reciprocate the solemn 'namastes' of the 'Namaste Crowd' but generally WET themselves once they have walked by... this in a cynical way, makes me smile:)

I had coffee with Alfie and the Italian group that he was tagging along with... I left them prematurely to go to a 'traditional' folk dance performance... which I loved... it was kind of cheesy and there is no way of knowing whether or not the performances were authentic or watered down for a western palate... but it was great... head-juggling-puppetry, vibrant swirling dresses, headspinning-pot-balancing wonder...cymbal-flicking... it had the lot. I took videos which I think came out well, however I have yet to find Internet connection that can upload them but I did find some links of the same performances on Youtube here and here.

Will stop writing now... It was nice to see Alfie before he goes back and to have had the chance to clear up the confusion... and also nice to practice some Italian. Now I have work finally to do having attended a training day for the tribal women supported by Seva Mandir yesterday, I am now off for the second day. Will keep you posted!

My First Indian Wedding

So, back to the descriptive stuff.

I awoke on Sunday morning to a knock at my door at around 7am. Unusual in the two or three weeks that I've been staying at my hotel. I was greeted by the owner of the hotel who, whilst flapping his arms around at me telling me to get ready quickly and to come downstairs as it was his granddaughter's wedding. Kind of shocked, and still blurry I agreed to be down in five... on closing the door I realised something terrible... I had nothing to wear!!! Literally though... the Indians, I had seen from various processions, do dress up well... I had a pair of jeans, battered puma trainers and my Tesco's own brand jumper as my smart casual wear... it had to do.

I got ready quick, headed downstairs and was immediately ushered onto a waiting moped ridden by one of the squillion family members I was to be introduced to over the following 14 hours... we screamed through traffic to what I was expecting to be an event in full flow... all the rushing and that. Instead we arrived at a court yard getting primed for the main event (it still looked a long way off...). Despite all the rushing I still had to sit around waiting for a couple of hours... unsure of what was going on, whether I was in the right place or anything... eventually the grandfather from the groom's side took me under his wing and explained to me in his broken English of what was going on...

The first part began when about one hundred women in a rainbow of wedding saris arrived at the entrance to the courtyard... they were singing and joking and dancing for a long time at the entrance... I'm not sure what this all meant... but it looked pretty cool. They then came to the back of the courtyard where they all sat around the dowry which had been spread out along the floor... silks and jewellery and gold and the like... all the way I imagined it to be... there the father of the bride offered the women from the groom's side.. the dowry and they accepted with great merriment... it all seemed good natured and the many of the women from one side of the wedding seemed to be good friends with those on the other which was nice. This event was followed by a lovely lunch time feast... all vegetarian I might add with a not of disappointment... but lovely all the same.

That was part one... part two I was told would be happening at 7.30pm in the same place... so I returned to my hotel... exhausted but ready for part two. I again was rushed out of my room at 7 (pm this time) onto a scooter and then straight into the middle of the Baraat, the groom's procession through the streets... he was riding a white decorated horse... surrounded by his friends and family with a band of drummers and trumpeters... lots of dancing... lots of fireworks... lots of stopping and starting and stopping and confusion and fun... it was an assault on my still sensitive senses... but great. I then peeled off the crowd with the brother of the bride around the corner where I first caught a glimpse of her.. she was absolutely stunning, sitting in a horse drawn carriage surrounded by her girlfriends... all wearing amazing saris... it was quite a sight. We followed her to the same courtyard of the dowry ceremony... where I was stunned at the number of people. There had been at most 200 people at the lunch... there were well over a thousand at this event.

The bride met the groom to great cheering and dancing and fireworks and music... the fireworks in India, I have to say, scar the hell out of me as the explode about 15 metres off the ground.... as these did, setting light to the roof of the kitchen and providing some unplanned excitement... no one was hurt mind. The bride and groom then took up their seats.. together... where they remained for about 4 hours... not moving... smiling resolutely throughout the thousand upon thousands of camera flashes that were put their way. Whilst this was going on I sampled a lot of food which was being provided on the 30 or so stalls dotted around. Avoiding the accusatory stares of those who thought I had invited myself from off the street (I was the only westerner there and hardly dressed for the occasion!) I managed to speak to lots of the guests... many of them family from both sides... all lovely and thrilled at the event... so happy the lot of them.

I stayed for the exchanging of the Varmala... the wedding garland, between bride and groom... again fireworks and cheers accompanied the event... and then slowly... into the evening... the guests began to make their way and by 11 o'clock there were around 50 or so close family and friends. I had been told by more than one of these that I should stay for the real wedding.. the Saat Phere or Seven Vows.... however by this time I began to feel that I was imposing on what was a precious event for the family... especially on the bride's side who were effectively saying goodbye to their daughter... their sister as a member of their family... forever.

And so it was I left my first Indian wedding. It was beautiful and colourful and without question my happiest day in India so far. I expected to be far more conflicted about it than I was... in the end I just let the celebrations take me... and I don't regret it. I hope it is not my last...

PS Photos will be up soon... don't laugh too hard at the one I've put up here!!!!!