I'm Back!!!

For all those faithful readers not already aware, I am writing to say I am back from my trip! Sorry for the worry as it has been so long since I've written but my mobile is now reconnected and I am open for communication!!!

Ladakh Living

OK, so the last time I wrote I explained how much I love Leh, focusing on food, shopping and the awesome views of the surrounding Himilayas.

Yup, still the same.

I decided I needed to do other things because if someone said that yogurt had more culture than me they would be right.....I hate it when I'm not right.

So Clauds and I have been having a great time with Carlos, a 56 year old Colombian who loves to laugh and travel. Works perfectly for us! We all travelled together at 6am one morning (DEATH!!) to go and see morning puja at Thiksay monastry. There were about 40 monks, mainly very old or very young, and we were able to witness them giving their morning offering. This was done through song silence, prayer and butter tea with sampa (tasty, a kind of ground grain that you mix into your tea).

Then it was onto appreciating the natural wonders within Ladakh. We travelled over the third highest pass in the world, (about 5200m) to reach I think the second highest lake in the world, Pangong. This lake is 25% in Ladakh and 75% in China. We had the good fortune to borrow tents and so we camped away from anything or anyone on a hill overlooking the lake. We chatted around a fire and looked up at the full moon.

STUN-NING I tell you. Who knew I would be so into nature?

We also camped at another Lake, Tso Moriri. Just as beautiful, just as fun. But my favourite place so far has been Dha Hanu. I heard whispers about this place back in Srinigar and I was dying to check out if the rumours were true. Carlos, Clauds and I hopped on a bus and travelled seven hours to this fabled place of Aryian Villages that nestled next to the Indus river a mere 20km from the Pakistani border. We had to get permits to be there as this area has only recently been opened up to tourists, and you can tell. Unspoiled nature with none of the usual tourist trappings. We were told to stay at Bema as this was the main place to stay to visit the surrounding areas. So I got off the bus and all I saw was one resturant in something the size of a garage.....and it was closed. "We're screwed" was the first thought in my head. We managed to find somewhere to stay and thank God for that because there was nowhere that we found in the surrounding 100km to eat, so our guest house was our resturant and our shelter from the natural elements. God it was beautiful though. We would go walking for hours and see mountains change colour in the setting sun, the river turning from a bright gold to a smouldering silver. I have never been one to be overwhelmed by nature but there was nothing else that I could do except be awed by it.

We stumbled across a village where we greeted by beautiful children with light honey skin and blue eyes, sandy hair and big smiles. So we finally meet the Arians I had heard so much about. They took us into the heart of their village and gave us chai and chang, (a light alcoholic drink made from fermented barley), and we entertained them with the novelty of our ipods. The next day we wanted to go right into the mountains to see the secluded villages. When we were stopped at a military check point we were informed that our permits did not allow us to go there. This was a tragedy for me. The whole reason I had come this far was because I wanted to ask a local if the rumours I had heard were true. Do German women come all the way her to have pure bred Arian babies?? How could this man in uniform deny me this answer? I don't know how it happened, really I dont, but we had a three person military escort through the several checkpoints and were waved on our way up into the mountains. We were through! We drove up into some of the most beautiful scenary I have ever seen. Lush green valleys between striking are orange mountains. Women with their local dress and flowers in their hair tending to the crops waved us in. It was like something out of a fairytale. We climbed into the village and were greeted with a friendly 'Hello'. It was the local school teacher and he welcomed us into his school of fourteen kids ranging from 2 years to twelve. They all spoke English fluently, as well as Hindi, also whatever their local language was, and a smattering or Urdu and God knows what else. I couldn't believe I was able to converse so easily with a community that to my primitive mind seemed to step straight out of a history book.

These people live in the most amazing location and live to most simple and happy of lives. I came away feeling strangely humbled by the whole thing. I was so distracted by my experience that I almost forgot to ask our local driver my all consuming question. So when we were sitting in his house and having chai I pounced.

"So I have a question and my intention is not to be rude but it is too fascinating for me not to ask it".

He looks at me politely and with some patience, but says nothing. I surge ahead....

"I heard a rumour that German women come here to 'be' the with local men so that they can have pure Arian race babies. True or False?"

He considers the question for a minute or two while I work on my sweat patches and imagine being chased out of the village by men and women brandishing farming implements.

"I remember two years back two German women came here. They were in their late thirties and they wanted to have children. We found out later they both were pregnant". This was a round about way of saying they did the nasty with some locals. SO IT WAS TRUE!!! I was ecstatic that in this modern world something that is such a myth in my mind was a reality. It's like finding out there is no Easter Bunny, but in reverse! He went on to explain that the culture is still reserved so they don't talk about it but it goes on. Women come, they make arrangments, sweaty actions take place and hey presto! Your very own Arian baby.

This world is fascinating

xoxo
Sim

I'm Alive

For all my loved ones who are freaking out I write to say I am alive and very very happy, so stop working on those stomach ulcers!!

Really, an update of all my adventures will be coming soon but as I have said many many times over the last three weeks I have stepped into the Bermuda Triangle here.

I'm dashing off so I won't write a big update now but I can't wait to share about camping at lakes in the Himalayas at altitudes of 5000m and my knowledge of where women come from all around the world to breed pure Aryan babies with men in remote mountain villages (no shit!!!)

Tantalizing, no?!

Sorry for the lack of photos but Leh doesn't allow any uploading and the connection here is cronically slow.

xoxo
Sim

Lazy in Leh

Back home when I was looking at the map of India I noticed that right up in the north there was a place called Ladakh. I instantly decided to go there, the irony being that I decided to go because it is the name of one of my favourite brands of clothing. You can laugh, but I'll have the last one cause it is brilliant here!

Clauds and I hired a jeep and enjoyed the comfort of having the whole thing to ourselves for the 13 hour journey. Our last atempt at a shared jeep was the two of us jammed in the front next to the driver. My knees pushed against the dashboard and every time the driver changed gears, (and you can imagine how often that was climbing steep hills) I was slammed in the thigh and developed a nice oval bruise. So we went to the other extreme of having a car where we stretched out and slept. The drive through was amazing, (but of course) and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Our hotel owner from Srinigar said it was like going to the moon, he was right. Kashmir is beautiful and green, Ladakh is striking and bare. There was a point driving high into the hills where it became so cold that it started to snow, we were right on top of the mountains and I had to get out to register with the army men. I came back looking like a human snowman. This country man, I sweat my body weight down south but I freeze my tatas off in the north.

I made an arse of myself talking to Claudia the next day, "You know, we were so high up in the mountains and it was so bloody cold it was like crossing the Himalayas!"
She looks at me for a moment, "It was the Himalayas" she says blandly.

That's what you get for using a clothing brand as your travelling compass.

Anyway we arrived in Leh, the main place in the Ladakh area, and I experienced two things that I have not experinced for quite some time. The need to shop and the need to eat. OK wait, anyone who knows me knows that the latter is a lie, I always want to eat. But the food here is bloody good, the coffee, the cakes and a whole host of Tibeten cuisine such as momos (dumplings). It is a nice change from Indian food, I do still love it but there is so much butter and grease in their meals that it was time for a break. I celebrated by having four meals on the first day, then it was onto shopping!

In one of the first junk shops that we stepped into we ran into Matt, an American with a wicked sense of humour and a passion for movies and TV. Poor Clauds spent the first night listening patiently and Matt and I spent hours throwing quotes back and forth to each other. It wasn't until the end of the night that we looked around and realised that we had scared all the other patrons away. Then this brilliant man showed us to what became our Mecca, a resturant that shows movies on a big screen as you sit around a fire eating, drinking and looking up to the mountains and an obscene amount of stars. I have to say that this is what I did for four days, eat, drink and be merry. I also spend a large amount of time sitting in the cafe called Booklovers eating cake and tea, laughing with the owner. But the big draw card is that he has the whole collection of Tintin comics!!!

So after four fun days with Matt we had to say adios as he scooted off to Delhi, Clauds and I realised that we have done nothing cultural in Leh at all. This was quickly remedied by climbing the mountain to see Leh Palace, Gompa and castle. The altitude nearly killed us, every 20 seconds we had to stop for two minutes to catch our breath. We had to constantly remind ourselves that it was the altitude and not the fact that we were fatties eating cake for the last five days that caused us to be so out of breath. Unbeknownst to us it was Sunday and everything was closed, Murphys Law. As we were making our way up to the castle Claudia and I laughed about the OH&S issues of this climb, one slip could send you sliding down the mountain. As we were laughing I stopped short as I realised I was face to face with a sheer rock that made it impossible to continue. As I looked back to Claudi with a bewildered look on my face I noticed that we had missed the hidden stairs that would lead us to the castle and instead followed the path of what I can only presume was a goat looking for a place to do its business. The climb down was a little tense, wouldn't you be tense if you had to backtrack down a non-existant path in Pumas that were cool but with no grip whatsoever?? Well at least we savoured the view, which was spectacular.

Now we are off to climb another hill to a Stupa, all this pain and exertion in the name of culture! It seems that Claud has picked up where Dave has left off, whenever we have to do excercise (which I never am too keen on) Clauds exclaims in her upbeat voice, "Well, at least it's good excercise!"

I waut till she looks away before I give her my death stare.

xoxo
Sim

The most beautiful place on earth

Is Pahalgam, Kashmir. I'm not kidding, it is spectacular. Clauds and I, along with a very entertaining American called Jayson, arrived after a two or so hour jeep ride through mountains and checked into a perfect guest house. The rooms were basic and clean and the staff were very friendly, but what made it was the backyard. We stepped out into bright sunshine where everything was a brilliant green and RIGHT THERE was a river racing past. We crossed a little bridge to an island to take tea, I always feel very civilised and grown up when I do this, though I have no right to be! I sat and looked up at the mountains towering over us with their peaks tipped with snow. It was picturesque and I felt instantly at peace and ectasticaly happy at the same time.

We strolled around all afternoon to say 'Howdy Ho' to the neighbours, but being that Kashmir is predominantly Muslim we quickly switched to 'Asalam-u-alikum'. They instantly love you for it and think it's kind of sweet, similar to a child learning to say good morning to adults. Pahalgam is a small town that is a tourist destination for Indians, not so much for International tourists. I think we saw one other anglo when we were there, so it makes sense that we are quite the novelty. Stares are much more frequent and marked with a genuine curiosity, but the second you chuck out a 'Asalam-u-alikum' they crack the fattest smile and launch into the questions they were dying to ask you. "Where are you from?...what is your good name? Who are you travelling with? No men? Only girls? What is your profession? How much do you earn? Australia, oh yes...RICKY PONTING!!" The last always gets me because I have to own up to being a very unpatriotic Australian becuase I do not follow or care about cricket. It's like taking a nap but with people interrupting you every six minutes or so to applause someone for running four metres. I made the mistake of telling one boy, ONE BOY, that I didn't know much about cricket. This 13 year old went on for 20 minutes telling me the batting average of every Australian team member, where they were born and what his opinion was on all of them. It drew a crowd...by then end of the conversation I was joined by his Father, his uncle, his two brothers, three cousins and his Mum, passionately throwing their two cents into the conversation. All of them took the oppurtnity to tell me EVERYTHING that I have ever ignored or avoided knowing about cricket, and I couldn't stop laughing the whole time.

The next day was the best day of my life. Clauds and I woke up early and sought out a pony man to take us riding into the mountains. I have been wanting to ride a horse for years now and never got around to it. I was so excited to slip my foot into the stirrup and swing myself up into the saddle, everything I ever learned about horses came flooding back to me and I found it effortless and downright brilliant to be riding again. First things first, big SNAPS for Clauds. She has ridden a horse only once in her life...in year six....for twenty minutes....and someone walked the horse up and down the road. I reassured her the night before that these were sturdy looking ponies and would be an easy ride. So up she goes...and within two minutes we are cantering. God bless her, her stirrups were too short, there was no thorough instructions before mounting and we are on the main road made of asphalt which would bloody hurt to land on. But she kept her whmpers inaudiable and clung on for dear life. She has forever earned my respect for that. After fixing her stirrups and reducing her pulse rate we trekked through the mountains and it was like stepping into a fairytale. Tall trees, running brooks, nomad families herding their goats while pack horses carry all their wordly goods with their children perched on top. The views were constantly stunning. On the way back Clauds encouraged me to canter ahead while she stayed with the safety of the pony man at a pleasant walking pace.

Let us change perspective for a moment. Be any resident of Pahalgam, a farmer, a nomad, or one of the friendly militia that are ever present in the town. You look up to see a foreign girl with aviator sunnies, hair streaking out behind her, cantering like a mad thing down the main road, which is complete with buses, jeeps and the multitude of pedestrians...and she is laughing maniacally all the way. Strange no?

I can confidantly say that I had every pair of eyes on me as I passed. But I was enjoying myself so much because I love horse riding, and I loved the reckless feeling of streaking down a road....that just happened to be the hub of all Pahalgam.

That afternoon I walked like I had an invisable balloon between my legs, so I set myself on my little island in the back yard. I took tea and read a wonderful book under the dappled light of a tree. That night the three of us sat outside and watched a lightning show, as many as 84 bolts in one minute, dramatically lighting up the night sky.

A good day, no?


Photos:

1) Our backyard

2) Clauds and I stopped on a hill top called 'Little Switzerland' that was strikingly stunning. Green fields, then green trees, then mountains, then snow tops. Stun-ning.

3) Overlooking Kashmir Valley

4) Preparing saffron milk - our favourtie drink to chase away the cold!

5) Had to show you the extent of the pot growth out here, it's like this all along the roads

Love those pictures

1. Ancient and beautiful Elephanta Island

2 & 3. A certain family member (DOM!) suggested I still looked like I had a hair of healthy locks. I do, but I felt the need to show just how much hair I am losing. It's a little disturbing and kind of gross but these are two pictures of what I lost after washing my hair two days ago.

4. Mughal gardens in Srinigar

5. Me looking pretty in front of a mosque in Srinigar, (possibly a permanant game plan if my hair loss continues..)

Also...

A couple of things I forgot to mention in my last blog. When we were driving through the mountains we cleverly drove over a large rock that kicked up underneath the jeep and punctured a leak in the petrol tank. So we all bail out in a hurry before the fumes made us nauseous or it caught fire and burned us alive. As we were waiting I lazily looked at the surrounding foliage when suddenly my eyes narrowd.

"Is that marijuana?" I thought to myself. I crawl over and sure enough it is, growing wild throughout the mountains. Thinking this is a funny stroke of luck I take a photo of the little shrubbery. Proud of my find I straighten up, then I realise the entire freakin mountain is covered in it. There is so much of it growing wild here that locals were hanging their laundry over it to dry. Phenominal I tell you!

Anyway we are called back to the jeep and we are off. Ignorance is bliss because I found out later that they stopped the leak by rubbing soap over the gash, or something like that. It didn't stop our driver from smoking cigarettes the whole way up though.

Then we got to watch the beautiful ballet of baksheesh, (bribe). We were in a jeep meant for 7 people but it had 8. When we reached the checkpoint which was the border for Jammu and Kashmir a seamless sequence of events happened.

1) A passanger jumped out the back of the jeep and walked across the border, which was being guarded by several men with very big and scary guns

2) We are pulled over by the military and the driver exchanges a few choice words with the officer

3) The driver pulls out 50Rs and hands it over, in return he is given a couple of pieces of paper

4) The 8th passenger jumps back in and we drive off

5) We look at the papers expecting to see permits or some such thing, instead it is tickets to the annual policemans ball

I love this country, I really do.

xoxo
Sim

In Transit

So we have been in transit for about three days. From Mumbai we hopped onto a sleeper train that went all the way to Jammu, in the very north of India. It took a nice 29 hours. So the Lonely Planet doesn't say much about Jammu other than it's a transport hub with no compelling reason to go there. Clauds and I thought we might stay a night and see, trying our hands at being adventurers. We chatted to nice family from Mumbai and we asked them their opinion, hoping for an insiders scoop.

"It's a hole"

Right. If Indians were telling us that we were going to run for the hills.

Did you know I love trains? I do. I sit and watch the world go by so happily. I love watching the scenary and the feel of the train as it rattles along. For the whole 29 hours, when I wasn't sleeping, I was looking out the window. I never even opened a book. It's fun when you pull into a train station and all the food vendors come on board plying their goods. Occasionally there are beggars, but if your REALLY lucky you get a he/she.

I was really lucky.

I looked up to see a towering man in a beautiful red sari, long hair pulled back in a plait, a little make up and an adams apple. It is a striking look. I was instantly back to a moment when Claudia shared a fun fact with me, "I've heard that you don't pay beggars because it's all owned my the mafia. Except if it's a lady boy on a train, you want to pay up because if you don't they give you a lap dance until you do". Oh my God. What do I do? I don't want a man lap dance on a train, but I sure as hell don't want to pay someone for dressing female and putting on a little make-up. By that rational I'd be handing out money to every Tom, Dick and Harriette on Oxford street. Unsure of what to do I came up with a third game plan....stare at the Adam's apple. Clever plan. Eventually the family that was in our cabin shooed him/her away and my panic passed.

So we arrived in Jammu with a plan to leave straight away for Kashmir. From the little information gleaned about this place from the Lonely Planet we knew the background of Jammu Kashmir and that there is a large military presence. Still, it was disconcerting to see AK47 slung over shoulders everywhere I turned. I realise what a blessing it is that in Australia you don't see guns unless they are in the holster of a policeman. We found a tourist travel agency that was very helpful and found us a room, (you could find amazing patterns in the mould on the walls), and set us up for transport to Srinigar in Kashmir. Clauds and I had been told by other travellers that it is safer to get a jeep rather than bus because buses were likely targets for bombs.

"So Madam would you like to take a bus or a jeep to..."

"JEEP!!" Clauds and I say in unison.

I don't believe we are in any real danger but why be flip? Also two days prior there were bombs in Jaipur that killed quite a few people and was aiming to cripple the tourist industry there. I was in Jaipur only 6 weeks ago. When we got on our train to Mumbai I was reading the newspaper article about the bombings and there was a group that claimed responsibility, promising more attacks in many other places, one of them Mumbai trains. Maybe I shouldn't have read that right at the start of the 29 hour train trip, also I probably shouldn't have shown Claudia. I wasn't really stressed out but frankly I don't need any more contributions to my hair falling out!

Anyway we arrived safely and were taking a tuk tuk to our mould hotel and we were pulled over at an army checkpoint. In peers this man with a huge gun slung over his shoulder. After scrutinising us for a couple of secomds he grins, sticks out his hand and says "How do you do?" An honest answer would be, "About to soil myself, how bout you?" But I smiled saying I was from Australia, and people, this is an invaluable asset to me. Everyone loves Australians and I strive everyday to keep it that way. We walked around town for half an hour and I tell you, we were the only tourists there. This is a town where I saw at least 40,000 and Clauds and I stood out like...like....like tourists in Jammu. This was my first taste of being off the tourist trail.

So then it was up at 6am, crammed into a jeep with families and one other tourist from America. I asked if he started telling people he was from Canada yet and he said the time may have come for that little white lie to be used regularly. It was nine hours drive to Srinigar. Kashmir is called paradise on earth, and it is. The mountains with pine trees, snow on the tips, clean air, panoramic views to die for. I was in heaven looking at the view the whole time. The drive made coming to Jammu worth it.

Tell you what though, Kashmir's military presence puts Jammu's to shame. We were passing conveys of military, buses after buses of them, (and yes they all look gobsmacked at the novelty of tourists passing by). Even saw a couple of heavy duty tanks. Then there is the bunkers, barbes wire compounds....the list goes on. In Srinigar there is literally one armed guard every 10 metres. It was a little disconcerting to begin with but I'm pretty OK with it now. I don't feel in any danger, though of course I will continue to be aware at all times, but a little part of me feels like an adventurer now. Clauds and I went somewhere with no information but a general idea, arriving happily after a beautiful drive through the mountains. Have just come back from walking around the lake and after three days to get here I'm thinking bed.

10 bucks says I'm plagued with dreams of lap dancing he shes

xoxo
Sim

Mumbai

Before coming to Mumbai I had already formed an idea of what it would be like from reading two massive books set here. One is 'A Fine Balance' by Rohinton Mistry set during the Prime Ministership of Indira Gandhi, and the second is 'Shantaram' by Gregory David Roberts. An Australian who escaped prison and lived in Mumbai, lived in the slums, embroiled in mafias and lots of other adventures. For me Mumbai sounded like a modern, cosmopolitan city, but I honestly didn't expect much. I'm not a huge fan of cities and Delhi, one of the other few Indian cities, was quite frankly a shit hole.

So five days, after an all night train ride where I didn't sleep, we arrived in Mumbai. After scouting around for viable accomodation Clauds and I settled for something really slick, The Salvation Army Red Shield Hostel. Luckily it wasn't just us and homeless people like I originally thought, but thrumming with backpackers. I've had a great time hanging out and seeing the sites with people from all over the world. After trying to pay for accomodation for the first night with a 500Rs note the guy said he didn't have change and in an irritated way suggested for us to stay somewhere else. I wanted to jam the note in his ear for the cheek but as this was the only feasable place for us to stay we suppressed our murderous instincts. As we walked into our average dorm room we commiserated by confirming to each other that we would be getting the hell out of Mumbai in two days, then promptly fell asleep for 8 hours.

We woke late at night and decided to go have a bite to eat.....via a pub for a pitcher......and the pitcher was 1m tall. Anyway thats not the point. Something about walking around Mumbai at night was magical, and it wasn't just the booze that made it sparkle. Mumbai is modern and cosmopolitan, but it also has an energy unlike any other Indian city I've been in. Walking down the streets you see silver Disney like horse drawn carraiges, the water is in the distance and there is massive and beautiful buildings from the English rule. So it is that it is five days later and only now am I heading off to the next location.

It's a bit of a Mumbai rite of passage that if your a tourist you will star as an extra in a Bollywood film. Clauds and I were approached and we readily agreed. We were picked up with a big group from our hostel and we headed off to star in....well, it wasn't a Bollywood film so much as a photo shoot for an advertisement. Who gives a shit I'm a star!!! Unfortunately for Clauds she wasn't able to join in the fun, but was there for the emotional support I needed, "You look sexy!!!" So I was dressed up as a sexy journalist/ecstatic fan (I know it doesn't make sense, just go with it) and I, along with a bunch of other girls, posed leaning into a car scrambling for an autograph from the sexy star. It was all very fun and a bit of a giggle, and I got fed and 700Rs for my trouble.

Today we ducked across to Elephanta island which was A-MAZ-ING! Ancient caves, almost 2000 years old, were scattered over the island. They look like something straight out of Indiana Jones. Massive, beautiful, flawless carvings carved straight into rock. Twas brilliant I tell ya! The highlight for me has to be the crack monkeys. The island has heaps of these monkeys which look very cute.....until they run at you and grab your freaking food out of your hands. They had balls man, when our friends kicked out at one to shoo it away it growled and charged. I nearly peed my pants when one caught site of my icecream.

He looked at my icrcream, I looked at him looking at my icecream, he started walking towards me never taking his eyes off my icecream, I swallowed the entire thing damned if I would let some monkey eat my icecream, he walked away, I suffered brain freeze for 5 minutes.

These things are clever and are on a sugar high that needs another fix quite regularly apparently, (thus me calling them crack monkeys). I saw one gallop and grab a bottle of Fanta, unscrew the lid and gulp it down like it was on a bloody commercial. After watching all this I saw one starting to stalk me with its eyes on my wallet in my hand, I shoved it under my top and ran for the caves baby!

Cheeky bloody monkeys.

Anyway Clauds and I are off to cooler climates tomorrow, YAY!! Except I think we have over compensated a little bit. We are going to the very north of India to Jammu and Kashmir, where temperatures range now from -3 to 30. I don't care, I am looking forward to being cold for the first time in two months!

xoxo
Sim

More Pics

So first we have the Chinese fishing nets that were being used in Fort Cochin. Then Claudia with my favourite food Tiger prawns, (massive meaty goodness!) Then the tea fields of Munnar, the backwaters of Kerala with some house boats like the one we were travelling on. And finally me on the set of an advertisement shoot!

Hampi, Kerala and Munnar photos

So here is a beautiful shot of the river at sunset in Hampi. Another of me looking at the river being very pensive. Then another one of the cart being pulled in the Festival procession. See those blurs in the shot? These are bananas in flight!
Then it's a Kathakali performer in full costume.
Then a shot of the childrens playground with the river in the background in the hill station of Munnar, idyillic place for kids to grow up hey?

Holy Crap...

...I'm going bald

It all started when Clauds saw how much hair I have left in the drain of the shower,

"Dude..ummm, that's a lot of hair"

No worries I say, completely normal. It is. Dave has had to live with me for a year and he knows. He will be sitting in the lounge and he will feel like he is in the old west as giant tumble weeds made of my hair float past. It is to the point of embarassing really, but without fail every time I go the the hairdresser they say, "My what thick hair you have!"

And so the weeks went by and I teased Clauds by showing her how much hair came out after I washed it, sparking cries of 'Ewwww' and 'Gross!' But little by little I started to notice the loss as being more constant. A couple of days ago I sat down and ran my fingers through my hair and said I would stop once my hand came away with 10 or less strands on it. 2 minutes later it didn't stop. I suddenly realised that I have been losing about half a fingers width of hair every day for quite some time now.

Now my mind flashes to the book 'Holy Cow', where an Australian girl is travelling around India. One of her many trials and tribulations is that she suffered massive hair loss, to the point of being bald.

And she got fat.

I could come back fat and bald.

Panic made me think of all the possible culprits for my scalp unloading its precious cargo:
"It's because it's summer Clauds, and I left in summer, so it's like one and a half years worth or summer straight. I always malt more in summer I swear!"
Clauds picks up her hair brush to show me the 12 strands sitting in it, "And I haven't cleaned it since Delhi". I fight the urge to stick the brush up her nose.

Then I think it's because I have grown my hair so long that the little strands are just jumping off my head cause they can't grow any more. But when I wrap my hand around my ponytail I realise that my hair has been longer with a thickness double what it is now.

So I hit google and joined all the 80 year old women of the world in typing into the search engine: 'How to stop female hair loss'

Lots of waffling on about hereditary disorders, (here's looking at YOU Dad) and skipping over the 'massage your scalp in a circular motion for five minutes' crap, I strike gold.

"A lack of protein in your diet can be a large contributor to hair loss".

Lack of protein, protein in red meat, LACK OF MEAT MAKES ME BALD!!! OH THE HUMANITY!!!

My initial urge to run down a holy cow and consume it whole was quickly brought to heel...mostly. Now I have to be 'aware' of what I eat for probably the first time in my life. Not eating meat has been kind of easy being that it's India. But now I have to up my protein level.

Help people. What has protein in it besides eggs? I don't want to eat tofu because it tastes like rubber that had taste extrication surgery done on it.

I had images of me stepping off my plane home being very tanned, slim and trim and a full head of hair of course. Now there is a real possibility that I will need to invest in colourful head scarves with funny and distracting phrases.

xoxo
Sim

The Backwaters

It's not as sinister as it sounds.....or is it only me who thinks that?! For me it conjours up images of deep south American hicks who chew tobacco and play that banjo tune that makes your blood freeze. A little research showed nothing could be further from the truth....

Within Kerala there is a whole system of backwaters that are lovely. Clauds and I arrived at Alleppy early in the morning to haggle for a good price on a 24 hour house boat. The usual conversations are had, "What?! 4000Rs is riduclous, I'll give you 2000Rs, my friend got for 2000", (I have so many imaginary friends that seem to always get such amazing deals....)
"No no no madam, that is impossible"
"Puhleeze, it's end of season and there is hundreds of boats not doing anything"
"They are all booked"
I proceed to laugh in his face, "Come now lets make a proper deal..." And so it goes for another 10 minutes until it is 3000Rs for two people on a boat by ourselves with three staff and all meals included. That works out to 38.50 Australian dollars and I happily part with my money. We met up with a couple of other people who compared prices. 3 girls paid 7500Rs and one guy alone paid 3000Rs. Hearing this made me all warm inside, like I'd just taken a shot of rum. There was nothing more satisfying for me than knowing I can haggle confidently and successfully.

Also Shardenfreudah - German word for taking pleasure in other peoples pain. I'm enlightened but I'm still human.

The houseboats were (I think) originally fishing boats that have been converted to house tourists in their meanderings of the backwaters. They are beautiful to look at, thatched walls and roof that holds two rooms, bathroom, kitchen and a lounge area to watch it all go by. After a massive lunch of rice, pappadoms and four different curries I lie down so that gravity can stop pushing against my very full belly. The coconut trees drift pass to the small 'put-put' sounds of our boat and then.....nothing.

I wake up two hours later. Claudia filled in the gaps saying I promptly fell asleep and the staff outright laughed at me for missing the main stretch of scenery. Then she called me a bitch for falling asleep first because she had to be polite and stay awake when all she wanted to do was nap.

It was very pleasant to while away the hours reading, looking at the view and eating. When we docked for the night we took a little stroll, were asked twice for pens by locals, then sauntered back to contemplate life over beers. We bumped into a friend who had a laptop and I was overjoyed to sit and watch a movie.

People, I can't stress enough how much I love movies and how much I know about the movie world. Only through the lack of it do I realise my passion for it. And I now realise that I am that freak who knows everything. People give random and seemingly incoherant facts about an actor or movie and I can pull it all together for the answer and further information that they didn't know.

I swear when I get to Mumbai I will track down the nearest English speaking cinema and work my arse groove into their seats. Heaven help me when I get to Thailand, I will go ballistic buying EVERYTHING on pirate DVD.

....But enough of my addictions, backwaters. Yes, very very beautiful, glad I went.

xoxo
Sim

Varkala

And so it goes we have moved on to another spectacular point in our journey, Varkala. A beach right down south of Kerala state. So pretty but vicious rips! Everyone who comes here was warning us about the rips, 'Don't swim where you can't stand, I had to be rescued and everything!' Of course I took this all on board but on arrival and actually swimming in the surf I realised something. Us Aussies have a profound respect and awareness of the ocean. We are brought up knowing that it is bloody dangerous. We would never just run in all Willy Nilly, and by willy nilly I'm thinking arms flailing and hysterical laughter to which the biggest culprits are Indians! Think Japenese tourists at Bondi and you have an idea of the elation that is Indians rolling about in the shallows of the ocean, screaming joyfully as the next two foot wave crashes over them. For the record, I love the Japenes tourists of Bondi. The way they are so excited to see the ocean, they roll up their pants and march into the water, and then run away when the tide comes in. And I love that there is always one token man who can't help himself, takes off his work suit and dives in with only his baggy undies on. It's the same here, but they would never, ever swim in just their undies. The few women I have seen swimming in India are all decked out in their saris, which seems to defeat the point of modesty in my book because how sexy is wet material that clings to your body to show off every curve? Go figure. As for the men they go in shirts, pants, turban and all. It makes me smile ever time.

Since arriving in India you get the usual requests for money and such, but the further south I go the more particular the requests get. One street urchin narrowed his requests quite well, he runs up from nowhere and says 'Chocolate!' A little confused he says, 'Me chocolate!' If your going to beg you might as well ask for what you want. Did anyone else know that Indian were avid coin collectors? I keep on getting asked for an Australian coins all the time. The first kid that asked me thought he hit pay dirt because I gave him Australian, Peruvian, English, Chilean and Brazlian. In exchange he showed me the first ever coin issued in India, so it was a fair deal. Now it starts to get weird. 'May I have a pen?' a staff memeber enquires, I hand it over without a thought. As he walks away the next satff memebr asks for one, 'Hey wait! I'm not giving the freakin pen away I thought you needed to borrow it!' Thankfully he hands back the only pen I own. But for the next few days every person is asking for a pen, what is this pen fixation? I don't get it. There are better things in this world to be fixated on, but who am I to judge. Someone says it's because they re-sell it but I don't think so. India continues to have a sense of humour though. Sitting in the train station minding the bags while Clauds is off to buy the train tickets a crazy man comes into the station mumbling to himself and looking generally frustrated at the workings of the world. He stands next to me and writes down a train time, mumbles in earnest to his paper, then drops his pen at my feet and walks out. I have half of India asking me for a pen, but a homeless man doles them out to me. A couple of girls come up to chat with me to practice their English and they are very sweet, on spotting the treasure at my feet they quickly ask 'Is that your pen!?!' Glad to finally be able to give a pen away I explain that it is in fact not mine but a crazy man who felt it was better that I have it. Their faces fall a little as they say goodbye after refusing the pen.

Twenty minutes later Mr Crazy comes and takes back the pen.

Don't ask me to explain the crazy of this place, I just observe it.

xoxo
Sim

Munnar

The heat, oh God the heat! It was getting to the point where I couldn't perform basic brain functions, like where to eat for lunch. I needed to snap out of this catatonic state fast, and the answer was Munnar.

Munnar is a hill station within Kerala that, because of it's altitude, made it an ideal place to rediscover what the human body is like without sweat all over it. Let me tell you, it's magnificent. Munnar is beautiful. The hills are covered in tea fields, occasionally interrupted by waterfalls or brilliant rock faces that tower over you. I would guess that it doesn't produce the same amount of tea as Darjeeling, but I put forward that it is just as beautiful.

Clauds and I had the good fortune of being part of a rather eclectic and great group of people. We have a Scotsman, French girl, German guy, English lady living in America and the two token Aussies. We travelled the seven hours together from Fort Cochin to Munnar and scouted brilliant lodgings. Let me set the scene.....

A cottage on top of a hill, behind is the striking undulating tea fields, in front is the view of hills with one or two houses tucked away between the trees. We sit around a bonfire with a glorious silence, occasionally interrupted by bird, bug, or beast, and all around us are fireflies. FIREFLIES!!! I've never been in such picturesque surroundings.

For the four days we were there we did a whole ot of nothing. God it was satisfying. We talked, we sat, we drank, occasionaly throwing another log on the fire. I did venture out one day to see a tea factory, just so I can say that I did something in Munnar other than discover what the bottom of beer bottles looks like, (round and clear by the way). So Clauds and Mad(Frenchie) joined me for a tea education. The Lonely Planet described the Tata Tea museum as having a guide and tea tasting. Awesome. Well we arrive to see a hodge podge collection of English items that we were restricted from taking photographs of. After 20 seconds in the place I wondered what deranged person would want to. There was animal heads stuffed and mounted all over the place. I couldn't see any connection to tea so I just presumed they were caught feeding off the bushes and shot. My theory was shot to hell when I saw a bear head. It went on to list when certain items became available in Munnar. One exciting item was the electric fan, c. 1976. Well we finally tracked down the tea tasting. It was three large cups of pre-prepared tea that had dust floating on the top giving it the impression of a stagnant pond. There were three teaspoons sitting in a shallow pool of water that gave the distinct impression of "Use me, I am covered with diseases!" I moved on. The guide was much more intersting, though seemed to lack the passion of a master tea maker that I was expecting. We were shown through the factory, from the drying of the leaves to finished product. It was quite nifty to see but unfortunately a lot of information was missed because the guy had quite a thick accent. I had to concentrate to hear anything. The only thing I heard, (between my frequent nods of understanding which I COMPLETELY faked) was that the tea plant is a tree and not a bush. I'll just chuck that fact into dinner parties and sound intelligent.

xoxo
Sim

Fort Cohin

You know when you travel to somewhere that you expect to stay two days, but it's like something is in the air and suddenly it is five days later? For me that place is Fort Cochin.

From Hampi we got a night bus to Bangalore and spent the day roaming around the city. I'd like to think in the 8 hours of my stay I did what all Bangalorians do, I shopped and drank in swanky lounges. We did have one other stop off which was the Post Office, to lighten our load of gifts and purchases. We calculated a 15 minute stop off, rather generous I thought. No no, what was I thinking? It was a two and a half hour job. Once again, for those who read too quickly and can't appreciate my pain, two and a half hours. Let us set aside for a moment that we were the only customers in the building and that staff numbered 12 that I could see. The simple process of putting our belongings in a plastic sleeve and having it sewn up with material would take, oh...twenty minutes each? And so I was introduced, (in the most savage fashion I think) to Indian time. A mysterious thing this India time, it can stop and start for no reason that my Australian eye can see. I would have thought that stopping once from packing my belongings to chat to some other employee was understandable, perhaps she has been sick and in need of comfort. Indians are very good at that you know. But after the fourth stop I suspected that they were reduced to such idle conversation as whoses breakfast biscuit was of a firmer consistancy. I am proud to say that I didn't lose it, (like one unfortunate incident ina KFC in Chile which I would sooner forget) but went to work on packing it my bloody self. The lady bolted over and smiled saying "No no, I'll do that!" Lesson learned, you attract more flies with honey than vinegar.

Then it was a night train into Enarkulam, (in Kerala state) then a 6am ferry across to Fort Cochin. It was only 48 hours in one outfit so we didn't smell too bad, but we showered before heading out into the town in case locals mistook us for homeless people who sleep in rubbish piles. The town has a Portuguese history and I was quite amazed to see a Dutch East India Trading Company logo still visiable above the door frame of a house. Clauds and I spent the day roaming around seeing all the sites that Fort Cochin has to offer, which we accomplished pretty quickly. There is history here, (churches, houses, mosques, Jain temples etc) but it isn't that crash hot. The Indo - Portuguese museum was 25 ruppee entry, so I thought it would be quite interesting or imformative at the least. Lets just say I would have had more fun if I ate my rupee note and leave it at that. But yet I was happy, I am happy here. I can understand why tourist buses come for the day and clear out at night, for there is only so much activity to occupy you during the day, but they are missing out. The joy of Fort Cochin is the walk from place to place. To sit and look at the mammoth Chinese fishing nets, to see the kids playing soccer, hockey, cricket and even badmitton. The greenery and the island hospitality on this little peninsula make me very content.

It is a pleasant 3km walk to Jew town, (it's actual name, not my boring description of it) where there is such an aromatic spice market and a lovely old 15th century synagogue...or so I've heard. On my trips I have come to the conclusion that I have a Jewish curse on my head. I don't know why, perhaps I wronged someone in a past life. Anyhoo, I love synagogues. I love to sit in them and look at all the architecture and I get a great feeling of peace. Both synagogues that I have made an effort to see on my travels have both had their doors closed to me. The first was in Split, Croatia, I think the second oldest one in the world?!? Every time closed. Fine. So I make my way through Jew Town, towards the synagogue with great excitment. I reach the door and read "Closed for Passover 21 - 28 April". God dammit. On reflection maybe I am cursed for taking the Lord's name in vain.

Clauds and I saw the most amazing performance only found in Kerala state, Kathakali. Kathakali is a silent preformance by men only, (the female parts included) and it means 'to tell a story'. How they tell it is magnificent, it is through facial expressions and manipulations. We arrived early to see them putting on their elaborate make-up. Out walked a thin 50+ male who looked like he spent his life labouring in the sun, I watched transfixed as he put on his make-up and transformed into a woman. They way he smiled and held his cheekbones, the way he inclined his head ever so slightly as to look coy, but alluring. I was gobsmacked. The fact that he could flirt better than me during his performance is not too amazing, I think a female cat can do it better than me really. But it was how exaggerated but spot on all his cheek puffing, lip trembling, eye communication was. The story they told was how a demoness transformed herself into a beautiful women to steal angels from heaven for the pleasure of her brother, but seeing the son of a God fell madly in love. On realising her true form this son/God chopped off her ears, nose and breasts.

Marvellous.

Other wise I really haven't been doing much her except partaking of my favourite pastime, food. It's all fresh seafood here and I have been eating mussels, squid, red snapper and tiger prawns. Imagine if a lobster and prawn had offspring, that is tiger prawn. Huge, meaty and thoroughly satisfying grilled with garlic, ginger and lemon.

I'm hungry.

xoxo
Sim

Hampi

I am in love with Hampi. We arrived after a night bus journey at 5.15am feeling the expected type of filthy and even then my heart stopped. After scraping the last 20 hours off myself in the shower it was time to check out the place. It is stunning, (pictures to be posted soon!) It has boulder strewn hills with lush greenery, ancient ruins scattered around with a river flowing through it. You could sit there forever watching the sun set and everyone taking their baths in the river.

We spent the first day being driven from site to run to temple and that was great. The historian in me loved that so much history was at my fingertips. The huge temple on the main bazaar was an national calling point for religious festivals as we soon found out. 40,000 people descended into Hampi to celebrate the anniversary of the marriage of Shiva to Parvati. Two giant rolling cart/temple things about 10m high were pulled by 300 people using ropes down the main bazaar. The throngs of people gave their puja (offering) to the Gods in the form of bananas. No shit. About two tonnes worth of bananas was pelted at these carts by people, and a couple used the opportunity to throw it at policeman too. Standing there in the midst of the crowds with blurs of yellow whirring past my head it struck me as ironic that in a country where millions are starving food to feed a nation was being thrown with joy and quickly squashed underneath the wheels. In one of the carts there were a handful of men lucky enough to be selected to ride in the cart on this holy day. After the bananas started to fly I thought instead that a neighbor had dobbed them in for eating meat or something and now their punishment was to be hit with fruit for a day.

At the temple there is the 'mascot' elephant named Lakshmi. Clauds and I got up at 7.30am to see here get a bath in the river. The whole shebang, scrubbing her feet to brushing her teeth. The we followed her up to the temple where I held out a 1 rupee coin, she picked it up with her trunk, passed it to her handler, then tapped me on the top of my head as a blessing. SWEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!!

It was a full moon as we walked through the banana trees to a restaurant which was beautiful, it only got better when we saw we were being led there by fireflies. At first I was worried that I'm leaving pieces of my heart all over the place, but on reflection I saw there could be nothing safer.

xoxo
Sim

Transport

So we finally escaped the humidity of Goa that officially turned me into an Anglo-Saxon puddle, to cruise into Hampi where it was a cool 45 degrees. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! THERE IS NO ESCAPE!

I am in love with Hampi, but will write about it in a couple of days. Now I want to write about something I don't think I've shared with you.....transport. Claudia and I have been adventurous and have been on every type of transport that India can provide, (animals aside), and each time I am entertained or the subject of entertainment for others.

TRAINS

If you have ever seen trains of India in movies it is not exaggerated. I've seen the mob bolting to grab the best seat on the train by jumping on before the train has even stopped on the platform, or one carriage crammed to breaking point with people and all their belongings. This crammed mentality even filters up to second class. After finding our allocated seats I take my place next to the window and wonder why Clauds isn't sitting down. Someone is sitting in our spot. No worries, we show the ticket to indicate that in fact yes, that is our spot. The man on the end of the three seater smiles obligingly, with one hand movement the other two people shuffle up a bit. He points to the seat smiling......the gap is about 3cm.
"You can't fit an arse in there!!" I cried indignantly....and then I'm quiet because I realised I just yelled arse on the train. And so one totters off to allow Claudia to sit where apparently two Indian bottom's could've sat with ease. This is of course no insult to Claudia's arse, but an indication of just how OK Indians are with the complete lack of body space.


AUTORICKSHAW/TUK TUK

This is my favourite way to travel for sure. No seatbelts, open air rushing in, the best views out the side. The drivers have to be crazy because the roads are crazy, but there is crazy and then there's insane. We caught a rickshaw to a resturant and the guy was driving like a freaking maniac. 'Shall I wait for you maam?' I'd rather ride a bullok home, I thought, but smiled and said 'No thankyou'. A couple we had met from our hostel came into the resturant some time after us and we enjoyed a meal together. They said they also had a crazy driver, but I told them with confidence that ours was the crappiest in the crap pile. When we finished dinner they offered to take us back in their rickshaw as they had arranged for their driver to wait. Who should it be but the very psycho who drove US there. Laughing to myself we all piled in for the five minute drive back. Again, drove like a madman and I was holding my hand on the outside of the cab to reassure myself. I had just taken it in to lean across to talk with the couple when we crashed. The driver had rounded the corner and dropped his back wheel into a drain so that the entire left hand side of the car, right where my hand had been, was cruched at an angle onto the wall.

BUS

Ah yes, horrendous to do long trips on a bus in any country. Claudia and I were in seats number 1 and 2, directly behind the driver, for the 8 hour bus trip. Now in India honking is the communication medium for, "I'm coming up behind you", "Don't come out I'm going there first", "You drive like a maniac" and so on. Our driver....our bloody driver honked for EVERY THING!!! No traffic could occur on the road without him tooting. For example, the guy honked when we were stopped at a toll. He honked at the truck in front, the truck carrying hundreds of gas tanks by the way, why? No apparent bloody reason, just because....HE WANTED TO DRIVE ME INSANE! You think I'm kidding? There was nothing on the road, ahead, behind, to the side, nothing. There was a little clump up ahead on the road that was obviously garbage, and he honked. HE HONKED AT GARBAGE PEOPLE! Forgive me father for I have sinned, I imgained ripping his head off and playing vollyball with it for eight straight hours.

Then of course there is the night buses, aka sleeper cells. I wonder if this name is a double entondre being that it is a man sized cell. Or that to be in one for a night awakens within you the 'sleeper cell', your hidden assasin ready to kill randomly and without remorse. That said I really can't complain, it is such an adventure to do all these forms of travel. To sleep on a night bus you need to lie on your back and stay that way. Unlike me who will wake up continually throughout the night on my side with my ear being bashed against the bed with every bump. Then sporting a new matted hairstyle I look refreshed with my upholstry exfoliation.

AIR

Yup, even on an airoplane I can make an arse of myself. In the middle of a long flight I drowsily grabbed my pop top water bottle for a drink, pulling the top open with my mouth my cheeks blew out with the force of pressurised air escaping. I looked like a goddam puffer fish and was so shocked that it took me a few seconds to realise what the hell was happening. Why didn't anybody tell me about this? No going back to sleep after that...

xoxo
Sim

Claudia's Birthday

Claudia officially turned 25 and remembering that she is a quadruplite, and that 25 x 4 = 100 it was a very big birthday! Clauds let it slip once that she has never had lobster before. I, feeling this as an affront before God, made sure she had it on this auspicious birthday. You can see her having her very first bite below, smothered in garlic lemon butter. Of course she loved it! I am sparing you all the drinking photos that happened later that night but I thought I would add the lady in the water. It is a face carved out of rock, done about 30 years ago by a French tourist. Very nifty!

Goa Photos

And these are at Goa, at the beaches Vagator and Arombol. I know your jealous, man I'm even jealous looking at these photos!

More photos

Images from the Taj Mahal, Jaipur dinner, entertainment and Fort, and my beloved blue block city of Jodhpur

Delhi Photos

A smattering of the temples, mausoleums and buildings around Delhi

Croatia Photos

At last a chance to post some photos! These ones are from Croatia, overlooking the town of Debrovnik

It's goin' on in Goa

At last!! I find myself at a computer able to sit and write a blog, to calm the fears of my family and friends that I may have joined a hippie commune and taken the new name of 'Moon child'. Really, if the slogan of my time spent travelling with Dave is "South America....it'll do things to you", then my time in Goa with Claudia is "Once you come you never Goa". I just made that up right then, gosh I'm quick under pressure. The amount of times in the last week I have been at a computer and just gotten through the emails in my inbox, only to find an hour has passed and my body is covered in a thick film of sweat and I'm in no mood to write. I am my mothers daughter, we are both completely useless in humidity. But as this Internet cafe has fans I'm sure I'll come off sounding rather witty. Even though it was only a week in Goa so far I need to divide this time into sub-sections.

ANIMALS:

I have mentioned before the massive variety of animals I see every day on the streets in India. Cows, boars, elephants, camels, monkeys, dogs, cats and our friendly bathroom geckos. But what happens when interactions go horribly wrong? My story involves a cow...oh yes, those docile holy animals! I left the beach early because I needed to use the bathroom, telling Claudi I would meet her at our room. So I began the amble back to our place, about five minutes from the beach. I look up at one point to find I am very very lost. "I don't remember walking past a shrine?" I continued on thinking all roads lead to Rome. A little further on through the bush I stumbled upon a small cottage standing alone and I immediately thought it looked like the gingerbread house from Hansel and Gretel. For one insane moment I expected an old crone to jump out and force me to eat cake till I was good and plump. I continued on and saw the main road in the distance, just before there was a little white calf eating the leaves of a low hanging branch. It had eaten all that it could reach, I lowered the branch for it and it munched happily. I stepped back to bathe in the warm glow of doing a good deed when the little bugger lowered its head and charged me. It caught me completely off guard. I ran backwards holding my hand outstretched in front of its head as it cantered lopsidedly for me. I needed to go to the bathroom before, but then I nearly wet my pants from pure shock! The calf stopped, thinking it over I took a breath and turned towards the road...in my peripheral vision I saw it charge again. When you are lost, alone, need to pee, wearing only swimmers and sarong and have 100kg charging you there is no time to think, only react. Wanna know what my reaction was? I turned, held up my index finger and yelled "ENOUGH!!!" I was as shocked by my own words as I was that the calf stopped dead in its tracks. It is just like me to have a brush with death story involving not an elephant or rabid dog, but a fluffy baby cow.

After a particularly big night Clauds and I shuffled down to the beach to swim and relax and basically ease the queeze of our stomachs. I lay down on my comfy beach chair, took a deep breath and smiled at the dog that came to lie on the sand in front of me. The dog promptly threw up and went to work making a meal of it again. About an hour later, when my stomach had stopped clenching in revulsion, I thought a quick dip in the water would be the perfect thing. Walking down to the water I look up just in time to see a dog doing a poo right in the water where I was about to swim. Hysteria took me and I couldn't get off the sand for laughing. This is India for me, it's all out in the open. The filth, the beauty, the honesty and hypocracy. It is the most living and thrumming culture I have ever been in, and of course I love it.

To conclude this animal chapter I will end on a positive point that baffles me. The dogs of India are not pets but they are loyal to houses. I find them more affectionate and with bigger personalities than loved pets that I have seen anywhere else. When I go walking at night these dogs come out of the darkness and trot in front or beside, staying with you for a length of what I presume is their territory. They act like escorts, making sure that you pass safely and with quiet companionship. The most remarkable experience happened last night. Clauds, me and another friend enjoyed looking at the stars at the beach after meandering down from the club. The climb down proved difficult in the dark as it is only rough cut stairs of earth. As we headed for the steps to go back up two dogs trotted out of nowhere and silently took up their positions, one in front and one in back. One moved slowly leading the way and the one at the back patiently waiting for us to take the next step with confidence. They trotted with us till we were safely on the road and then slipped back into the night. Only in India.

PEOPLE

The people in Goa are the friendliest and most laid back Indians I have met so far. For me Vagator, the beach we are staying at in Goa, feels like a cross between Fiji and Southern American plantations. Go figure. And of course the people have inspired and delighted me. One of the ladies who strolls up and down the beach selling her wares plopped down under my umbrella for some shade, it is a common practice and I gave her a smile. I noticed that she was snacking and conversationally asked her what she was eating. She opens her palm to show me rocks.
"It's rocks" I said, stating what was the obvious but insane. She nodded and pointed to her seven month pregnant belly, "Yes, it's good for the baby".
"But....it's rocks...."
She smiled indulgently at me, the kind of smile that you give when something very obvious has been misunderstood.
"No, not hard rocks," she giggles, "soft rocks, see...?" She easily crumbled the bits of rock into a powder.
"So it's dirt?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed, happy that at last we were on the same page. "Very good for the baby". She continued to pop these little dirt/rocks until she had finished a good gram or so and waved cheerfully as she walked off.

Only in India.

For my birthday this year I had high tea followed by a free astrology reading. One thing he said that I've become more and more aware of is how much I see and absorb from people and things around me. He added that this is the reason I enjoy spending on my own, so I can process and digest all this information. But in India there is no escape. I found after spending two days hanging out with a rockin' bunch of Poms that I had picked up a British inflection, including the use of the greeting 'Hiya!' But by far the most significant absorption has been from Indians. I.....I have begun...to head waggle. I didn't even know I was doing it! It started with a waggle of the hand and has developed into full blown head bobbling!!! Now every order of chai finishes with a head waggle, a smile on the street gets a head waggle, if I ever met that cheeky calf again I would probably head waggle at it too!!! ever watched an Indian film or cheesy Bollywood production where the characters talk animatedly with hands and head movements....that's me!!! God help me, my neck even hurts a bit on the left side. Maybe I should invest in a neck brace..

Remember how I joked before leaving that I would fall in love with a Maharaja's son? The universe has a sense of fun for sure. I met a great and stunning man who is heir to a Bombay fortune. I didn't realise this at first but he said something that caught my ear.
"Did you just say that you have to maids?"
"Yes, I have two maids"
"But....but....why do you even have two maids? Your on holiday?"
"Well they're my family's maids, I am staying in one of their holiday houses here"
"But...why do you have two?"
"Well", he says calmly with no hint of snobbiness or arrogance, "You know, I'm not there that much, you know? I am out visiting places and doing things and I didn't want one to be lonely so I got two so they can be happy and have company in each other"
I love when people blow your concepts right out of the water. I thought to have a servant would entail oppressive servitude and a holier than thou approach. In fact it runs in the opposite direction here. If you have the wealth you employ more staff, they are able to have better quality food and live in a nice neighbourhood. There childrens education is paid for and quite frequently, he tells me, families adopt servants children as their own. It's like one household becomes a little community with benefactors who will take care of you as you take care of them.
An Indian man in Jaipur told me that he wants to come back as an Indian woman in his next life.
"Simone", he says looking hard into my eyes, "There is no love like the love of an Indian man. You must be loved by an Indian man before you die, whereas I will have to wait until my next life".
It's true, they love here with an open heart. I have had three Indians that I have had the pleasure to meet say they love and adore me. Acknowledgments pour from them with passion and poetry , I listen for the hint of sleaziness or duplicity in their words but can't hear it. They weren't raised to save face, they don't bully you with their emotions. They lay it out with honesty and accept whatever may come as meant to be or the way of the universe. I have seen romance reach levels of novella proportions...

"Come with me to the mountains, we will go trekking on the goat trails of Himachel Pradesh and relax in the hot water springs!"
"Let me take you horse riding at my ranch!"
"I'll cancel all my plans to come travelling around India with you!"
"You have left a footprint on my heart!"
And my favourite which produced such good laughter from me,
"Marry me and I will give you three servants!!!"

Everything is such a pleasure to listen to, and yet in that moment I was acutely aware of how different Australia is to India. The process of love is so different, the tells I look for are subtle. In the face of such honest emotions I felt my sharp wit and confident opinions being silenced. I noticed myself biting back such pre-pubescent remarks as "wow.....yeah....aw, that's sounds nice" to each statement. In love, be it romantic or generosity, Indian's have it in spades. They are generous when they have nothing to give, they smile with honesty and they laugh from their belly.

Holy moley, what a spiel! I'll let you have a break while I continue with my musings...

xoxo
Sim

Jodhpur

We have been in Jodhpur three days and it has caused my heart to be still enough for me to be a little bit in love with it. Our hostel has views looking up at the fort and balconies with a view of the entire blue cubed town. The Brahmin or 'priest caste' paint their houses blue to identify their religion, apparently with the bonus feature of deterring insects. I sat down one night and found it hard to get up. the view was like nothing else I've seen, and I even had evening prayers at the local mosque as my soundtrack.

I loved the fort here. The forts and palaces were starting to become same same for me and Claudi. Same when seeing all of the churches in Europe, seen one seen 'em all mentality. But this fort was spectacular. The Maharaja, whose status was reduced to an ordinary citizen, has taken on reshaping his role to be a sort of ambassador of his past. He transformed the Fort into a very well presented and beautiful presentation of Jodhpur's past. Complete with a variety of litters used to bear royalty, ancient paintings etc. But again the view captured my heart and I fell in love a little bit more.

The streets are the usual crazy. We saw a great wedding procession. I love these people. The street is only two meters wide, but still two cars and plenty of foot traffic can squeeze through to make their daily rounds. But in comes a wedding procession and traffic be damned. They had a brass band, dancing reletives in front, and stunningly dressed bride and groom being pulled in a horse drawn carriage. Everyone here says hello and calls out to us when we walk down the street, but I felt especially delighted when the groom gave a hefty wave and thumbs up to us in the crowd.

And so concludes Claudia and Simone's north Indian trip. We are hot, bothered and generally tuckered out from the heat that is starting to build here. All I could do today was sit and drink saffron and cardommin lassi...(mmmmmm, lassi). Tomorrow we streak down to Goa to set up camp on the beach. Should we swim, sunbake, eat? Or eat, swim, sunbake? Or eat, swim, eat, sunbake, eat, drink, eat.......

xoxo
Sim