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