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
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
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
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
Friday, April 18, 2008
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
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
Monday, April 14, 2008
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
Croatia Photos
At last a chance to post some photos! These ones are from Croatia, overlooking the town of Debrovnik
Saturday, April 12, 2008
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
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
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
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
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
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