Thursday, September 11th, 2008, 7:07 am
Ladies and gents prepare yourselves for this one. If you're reading this at work, you will have to ice skate home as hell has officially frozen over.
I'm no longer a cynic and I'm actually open minded.
It's finally happened. The world may actually stop spinning on its axis. I've changed. It's a miracle. Traveling has actually cured me of my cynicism and has made me open minded. And it's not something that I've purposely 'worked' on.
To be honest I was blissfully happy quite content skipping along the rocky road that is life, casting dispersions on anyone and everyone, giving sermons whenever I felt like it - usually inspired after a few bottles of wine and anything else I could lay my hands on. Some said I ranted and although it pains me to say it, I think they were right. (Er, please also note the 'I may have been wrong' ref which I think you'll find is a first from me!).
My preaching was out of control. Admittedly I was usually under the influence but to be honest that was pretty much most of the time so....I had an opinion on everything. How wrong he was/she was/the situ was and of course there was the list. The list of things I would never, ever do which were not only specific but also endless.
To be fair I was utterly convinced I was right in every instance. And at the time I was(obviously!). But now I've gone and changed I naturally have the right to retract any former beliefs and opinions without any repercussions from friends and family (some things don't change!).
You see it's like someone is playing a joke on me - every single thing I vowed I would NEVER, EVER do I am actually systematically doing. I am actually being forced to be open minded and lose all cynicism because I have no other choice. It's the only way I can get my head round the fact I'm doing some things I said I've never do. I'm meeting people I would never, EVER have thought I'd have anything in common with. Seriously, every single opinion I've ever had and hold has been challenged.
Clearly this is something to be celebrated. Being opened minded and not cynical were words that rarely really featured in my vocab (perhaps one Christmas and a friends birthday a few years ago). Occasionally I would make the half hearted attempt and the odd New Years resolution to try and see things from someone else's point of view. But to be honest as much as I tried I always came back to the same conclusion. They (or it) were wrong. It was bullshit.
It first started about a month ago. To begin with I started to notice the little things then a wave of 'oh my god what are you doing, you'd never normally do this' came at me like a tsunami out of now were. I was unprepared to say the least.
You see if someone had told me this time last year that I'd be wearing a toe ring ad ankle chain (used to think both made you look common), had a henna tattoo (used to think it was only 'try hards' who did this), gone on a date with an Indian guy (NO WAY), slept in a room with no adjoining bathroom but having to share a piss stinking one with randoms instead (not a chance in hell), preferred a squat loo to a western one (shut up), flicked a cockroach off my bed without even blinking (never), meditated with a Buddhist monk (impossible), forged genuine friendships with locals (doubtful, nothing in common), not screamed when a rat ran over my foot in a restaurant I was eating in (not a hope in hell), gone trekking, bit my tongue when someone was seriously pissing me off well, I would've roared with laughter and told you to fuck off!
So you can understand how shocked I was when I first noticed 'the change'. It was like an out of body experience. One minute I'm thinking exactly the same way I always have, i.e. toe rings are for tossers....the next thing I know I'm buying a toe ring! So you can see how this has meant I've actually had to change. I've had no choice. Plus I hate the word hypocrite.
The thing is not only have I waved good bye to cynicism and being closed off but the blue print of my life as I thought it may pan out is rapidly changing too. Everything, and I mean everything, I thought I wanted in my life and for the future has changed. Where I want to live (not the UK at least not full time), my job (not PR, want to carve a career in writing), the type of man or rather his qualities I'm attracted to..basically how I want to live my life has completely altered.
Look at it this way - you're talking about someone who would make lists out of lists, I'd meticulously plan my year ahead, was a boarding hypochondriac (lengthly conversations with various friends convinced I was about to have a heart attack...hello, paranoia!), drank excessively, had a questionable approach to anything 'bad' for me which included men with 'issues' and drugs, had a rather unheathly list of 'fair weathered friends' or rather drainers as I like to call them - you know, the one's you only hear from when they have a problem, they talk about themselves incessantly and basically when you have a problem they are no where to be seen...shite, I've had a few of those in my time. Again, the list in endless but I'm happy to report that all of the aforementioned no longer feature in my life.
Drainer friends have been dropped, I take each day as it comes, I barely drink, the guy I'm seeing is utterly lovely (and Indian), I'm the proud owner of an ankle chain, toe ring and currently considering yet another henna tattoo (subtle of course!) and I'm pitching my blog and a few feature articles to newspapers and mags. To say my and my life is changing or rather has changed would be an understatement. And what's even more shocking is I love every single change. Historically any changes were met with a healthy bout of 'fear' and general self esteem bashing. Not no more people.
I'm the happiest I've ever been. It's a sheer miracle.
Now get your ice skates on and watch out for the uneven ice!!
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Wednesday, August 13th, 2008, 4:51 pm
I have to tell you about this one - sadly I didn't witness this myself, my friend did but every time I think about it I just howl with laughter...
I'm jumping around a bit in terms of my direction but after Kerala (I stayed about a month and after Dan left I met up with my gorgeous sis, eve and her boyf Matt ) I flew (again, in true flashpacker style) to Goa and ended up staying there for 2 weeks. Stayed in Palolem for a week and then headed to Patnem beach which was much quieter and more chilled. Loved it there - if you go, stay at Cafe Copenhagen - really basic huts, great food, couple who run it are lovely.
After Patnem I caught the overnight death bus with Charlie (my other sis) and her boyf Greg. As I'm not part of a couple - single doom follows you all around the world - I was paired with another woman (thankfully) in a cell like compartment with a mattress (cue the sarongs). Ness was great. Totally on my wave length and not a nutter. I was relieved to say the least esp as for the next 10 hours and due to the erratic Freddie Kruger esq driving standards of the bus driver (thankfully he wasn't drunk - apparently they usually are or on LSD - not sure which is worse!) we would be thrown together at various intervals throughout the evening.
Anyway, I was chatting to Ness about this guy I kept seeing. From Columbia, I'd met him in Kathmandu, McLeod Ganj and now in Palolem. Turns out she'd met him last year. Thought he was totally cute and got chatting to him.
The Colombian (can't remember his name) teaches Tai Chi, is a tarrot card reader so very much a spiritual man. Fine. When he met Ness he asked if she wanted to feel the sea. Naturally she said yes, she closed her eyes, could feels the waves crashing around her (she wasn't drunk, stoned or anything else which is mind altering). So it all felt amazing and so he naturally rose about a million levels on the old 'hottie' radar!
Cut a long story shot the Colombian wanted to to her a favour. Due to her reaction from experiencing the sea he informed her that he wouldn't in fact be sleeping with her because, and get this as it's nothing short of hilarious, she wouldn't be able to handle it. It would be too good, too powerful for her. She wasn't ready. Well, I nearly woke the entire bus up when heard this. I literally screamed with laughter. Of all the chat up lines I've ever heard this has to be the best. 'I would love to sleep with you, but you're not ready - I'm just too good, it would be too powerful an experience for you and you wouldn't be able to handle it'....
I love travelling!
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Tuesday, July 29th, 2008, 5:23 pm
After Rajhastan, I flew (in true flashpack style) down to Cochin in Kerala, Southern India to meet the lovely Dan Pimm in Varkala. Mr Pimm was on a two week hols decided to spend it with me - hurrah! Always love Mr Pimms company so to have his words of wisdom for two WHOLE weeks was def a privalige.
We were both on the same page whe we met up - in terms of what we wanted to do for the next fornight ie nothing!. I was a bit over travelling, in the sense I'd been on the move roughly every three or four days, so to have the chance to settle for a bit and actually put my bits and peices ie makeup, creams etc out was too exciting for words!! Seriously!
We ended up sharing a bamboo hut opposite an internet cafe. Fine you'd think. And it was accept we had no idea the sights we were about to witness in the evening....
Hidayathulla is the owner of Cliff Manor Beach Resort, which was opposite where we were staying, a lawyer (apparently) and the proud owner of the internet cafe across from our hut. In the day time Hidayathulla (or Ali as he now calls himself) was the perfect gent. Polite, always smiling and bit cheeky. Ali is 35 but is slightly challenged in the hair line department. Not much but it's cleary something he's worried about due to the toupe he wears....sometimes.
During the day the toupe was no where to be seen. By night Ali turned into a girating hunter on the prowl for the ladies and so out came the toupe at particular intervals throughout the evening.
In southern india many of the men wear what look like big nappies. They are infact called a lungi. Most of the time the lungi is worn long, so it finishes about mid calf, but when it gets really hot they pull them up so the lungi finishes just above the knee.
After a few whisky's or rum and cokes (the drink of preference in the south) Ali would be leathered. And I mean leathered. He would hoist his lungi so high it skimmed his arse. In fact the more he drank the higher the lungi would go. Then his shirt would come off and he'd walk around grabing his stomach and winking at the ladies.....you can imagine the response he recieved!!
To add insult to injury (if you will) his toupe would make an outing at various intervals throughout the evening. So one minute he's bowl over with the toupe on, nick a cig from me (yep, I'm back on the fags - dan's fault plus there was no way I could be a non smoker whem my sis, eve, arrived for xmas), take a swig of my water (he needed it and as the weeks progressed I actually kept a bottle just for him), grab his stomach, ask me if I thought he was fat and if any of my friends would like to be his girlfriend, girate in front of me for a few mins, while singing an Indian love song and then scurry off to seranade an unassuming woman trying to get into the internet cafe....30 mins later he was back, minus the toupe, but self conciously touching his hairline (awwww) to ask Dan if he could be his lawyer in London as Dan is 'a buisness man, very important'.
So as the night progressed, the more Ali drank, the higher the lungi rose and the more he'd gyrate. Maybe it was spliff but it was nothing short of hilarious to watch a grown man, semi naked, gyrating while singing Indian love songs. He'd also ad lib with the lyrics like 'you come at me, like a stream of something into my heart' and 'my heart is like a football pitch, wide and open'...he once said this to a woman who was trying to get into the internter cafe (I'm really surprised he actually got any buisness as all women were harrassed before they walked in) who responded by saying 'my heart is closed like a football'...underterred Ali replied with 'then you can play football in my field anytime'. At this point Dan and I were literally on the floor howling with laughter.
All manner of chat-up lines were tried and tested on various women. One which sticks firmly in my mind was when he spotted two women (about the same age and clearly friends) walking towards the internet cafe. He stopped one and asked if she was the mother. I couldn't contain my laughter any longer. I yelped, the woman scowled at me and told him she wasn't!! 'But you look so alike' was his reply. By this time I was doubled up with laughter. Dan nearly exploded and so each evening continued with us watching in complete amusement as Ali offended each and every woman he came into contact with.
The thing is he wasn't being mean at all and I doubt he has any idea just how amusing he actually is. He's in fact a really sweet guy, just split up with his wife, lonely, stressed about the buisness so drinks because of it. Pretty standard but a massive shame nevertheless however it does only take three drinks for him to be totally hammered so I suppose it's not exactly an expensive habbit - I'm trying to be positvie here!
Ali then appointed me as his 'girlfriend agent'. 'You are a western' he told me 'go and find me a girlfriend, email all your friends to ask them if they want an indian lover like me'. I told him all my friends were married or have a boyf but that did't deter him. He told me to send the email anyway in case they were bored with their husbands....
I asked him what his criteria was. Age, hair and body type, profession etc you know, the usual stuff. I was given a brief in the losest sense: female (that's a start), western (cos we're all sluts and sleep with random men during our lunch breaks - more on this in a sep post!), aged between 25-45.
Obviously I had some questions about his brief: did her prefer them alive or dead (he didn't get this joke!)? are divorcees okay? women with childre from a previous relationship? All were fine - I managed to establish that live woman were his preference (thank god for that!). And so each evening he'd ask for an update on my progress. Naturally I had none. I'd already mentioned it to some of the girls I'd met in Varkala but oddly enough none of them were interested.
And so the search continues...so if you know of anyone or you're fed up with your current man and fancy a walk on the 'wild' side then do let me know!!! Ali is more than up for it!
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Wednesday, July 9th, 2008, 11:08 am
I wasn't planning to head north towards the boarder but I'd heard on the 'traaavellaaar' grapevine the Golden Temple (the Sikh's holiest shrine), and the pomp and glory of the boarder closing with Pakistan, wasn't to be missed either. So heeding the words of from my father: 'I wouldn't go anywhere near the boarder if I were you' I did what came naturally to me and promptly disd exactly what he asked me not to.
Before I knew it I was racing (literally) along the windy roads of McLeod towards Amritser in the back of a car with a driver who would give Lewis Hamilton a run for his money!
For those of you who've had the er, pleasure of 'experiencing' the driving skills in India you'll know first hand the journey is well, erratic to say the least. The roads in India can only be described as organised chaos. An average one hour journey consists of at least five near misses (the head-on collision kind), car, bus, tractor horns blowing consistently - you don't indicate in India; you sound your horn continuously and pull out when a car on the opposite side of the road is directly in front of you. Most over taking 'maneuvers' are done on a bend, the brow of a hill or as the car/bus is chugging up a steep hill. Oddly enough a car (or bus) journeys have never really bothered me. I started to wonder why then realised I'd experienced it before - my sister Georgia's driving is not that dissimilar!
The drive to Amritsar was no different. After five hours of neath death experiences and endless 'banging' tunes ranging from Bollywood to trance esq 'world music' me, Sonny, Chris and Emma arrived in Amritsar. It was full on in the sense that I'd travelled from relaxing, sleepy (ish) McLeod to a dusty, sweaty, busy Amritsar. And back to the 'real' India with a bang. With that comes the starring, the pushing, the smells of sandalwood, curry and incense.
We'd come to see the Golden Temple. And as it turns out stay at the Golden Temple (well on the grounds) too. So far so good you think. So did I until I realised I would be sharing a bathroom, shower and eating my meals with 1000 pilgrims.
Immediately my stomach churned. This was my idea of sheer hell. Questions and images raced through my head...what are the hygiene standards likely to be of hundreds of people? squat toilets - will they be properly drained of will it be like wading through the sea to get to them (I like to tell myself it's water I'm walking through to stop me from retching). Did they use a high quality brand of washing up liquid to wash utensils in the canteen which feeds thousands of people a day? How often are the toilets cleaned with bleach, whats the bedding like - is it clean? My worst fears and questions were answered when I walked into our room. Sorry, I mean cell.
My jaw would've dropped to the floor if I knew it had been cleaned in the last decade. It was a pit. It was disgusting. For starters there wasn't a window. It was a windowless hovel. And it stank. There were three metal framed beds. There were four of us. We were sharing. I can handle sharing a bed with a few people but not in a cell with the remains of food from the previous 'tenants' smeared on the walls and rubbish on the floor. What I certainly cannot handle is a stinking, dirty 'mattress'.....
I made a few major mistakes during my stay in Amritsar. The first was agreeing to stay with a zillion pilgrims in a hovel. My second was smelling the mattresses. They weren't exactly mattresses. I'm exaggerating. They were like the 'mattresses' you get on a sun lounger. The type that means you wake up feeling like you've done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and you've aged 20 years. Anyway, back to the mattress - as my nose edged closer the stench hit me like a punch in the face. A mixture of sweat, dead skin cells and God only knows what else. I dry wretched.
Let me put this in context for you. Since I started travelling I haven't trusted one single guest house on the issue of cleanliness of their bed linen. When I arrive anywhere my ritual is to lay my sarongs neatly on the bed. I lay two on the bed itself and the third acts as a cover. Call it neuritic, in fact call it what you want. I have a phobia against catching skin diseases and crabs. Therefore my delicate sun kissed skin hasn't felt the crispness of bed linen since July. Needless to say there was no way my lovely sarongs were going to be tarnished with the dirty, stinking ma tress. There was nothing else for it. The sleeping sheet, which I only ever use in extreme circumstances ie trekking and train journeys, was pulled out hastily.
Why didn't I move you may ask. Good question. I couldn't. Well I could but my fellow travellers where not only in the mood for saving rupees but also on a quest to make me a 'proper' traveller. Apparently you're not one until you've stayed in a hovel and paid virtually nothing for it. I tried to argue that I was flashpacker - a back packer with money. I even offered to pay for a room in a guest house. I even pulled out the age card ie 'I'm nearly in my mid 30's you can't expect me to stay here at my age'. My pleas meant nothing to them. It fact I think it encouraged them. I then got annoyed at the fact they thought I wouldn't' be able to handle it so I agreed to stay. Pride is a terrible thing.
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Sunday, June 22nd, 2008, 3:40 pm
The first thing you notice about India, aside from the fact everyone - no matter which caste - seems to have a mobile phone, is the vast array of colours every where. From the colours in the shops, the pastel colours the houses are painted to the Sari's the women wear. India is definitely a country of colours which seem to come to life even more when you enter Rajastan. The region has been described as 'real' India - how the country used to be before the claws of the western world seized the country. It's certainly got a certain rawness to it.
The setting for Bikaner is the arid desert so the deep reds, bright greens and yellow colours of turbans and Sari's really jump out at you. The main attraction to Bikaner is the Karni Mata Temple at Deshnok, about 30 mins drive in a tuk tuk from the town centre. The drive through the desolate dessert adds to the fact it's probably one of the strangest temples and definitely not for the squeamish.
According to legend, Karni Mata, in incarnation of Durga, who lived in the 14th Century, asked the God of Death, Yama, to restore to life the son of a grieving storyteller. When Yama refused, Karni Mata re-incarnated all dead storytellers as rats, depriving Yama of human souls.
Thousands of Kabas (holy rats) now live at the temple. If you don't like rats - which I don't - then it's verging on fairly traumatic. Firstly, don't be lulled into a false sense of security when you see the temple looking all pristine. Sparkling in the sun. The silver doors with their intricate details is also misleading as behind those doors are thousands of rodents. Literally.
First shocker of the day was that you have to remove your shoes. Of course you do. It's a temple. That's what you have to do before you enter a temple. Picture if you will a grown woman whimpering and wincing as she takes her first step and places her clean delicate foot onto the white (cleanish) marble of the temple. All manner of things were running through my mind. How many diseases can you catch from rats? How many bacteria can happily live on marble floors? How good is the Indian health care system - is there one?
So there I was picking my way through the rats, wincing with every step and trying to avoid touching anything that a rat may have been on. Which is pretty hard when you're on tip toe, dodging running rats and trying to ensure you don't 'step' in anything. I was trying to spot where the rat crap was on the marble floor but I gave up when I nearly mistook shite for a rat and screamed as I thought I was about to step on it. See pics above for living proof - I came pretty close to the rats many times!
Don't get me wrong. Rats aren't scampering around your size 6's. They keep pretty much to themselves. And I have to say they did look a little un healthy so I don't think there's any danger of you leaving the temple thinking rats are cute and cuddly. These one's certainly aren't!
Having said that apparently it's lucky for a rat to run over your foot. Even luckier for you if you spot a white rat. You can also eat prasad - holy food offering covered in rat holy rat saliva which is claimed to bring good fortune. I was willing to take their word of it in this case!
The second shocker of the day was the fact I spotted a few babies on the floor of the temple. Happily crawling around ON THE FLOOR OF THE TEMPLE (see pic above). It was as much as I could do to stop myself from picking them up off the floor. But to Hindus of course the temple and its rats are holy. Thousands of pilgrims head there every day. No place for me to be simpering and wincing around in!
The 'experience' of the holy rodents definitely earned me a look around the shops. Namely the spice market in the old town. It's one of India's biggest. The old town itself is set within the old Bikaner fortress. It's pretty with winding alley ways which are home to over 500,000 Indians. There you can buy an array of spices ranging both common and obscure.
Rajasthan is the home of 'home stays' where you basically stay with an Indian family, home cooked food and definitely not as clinical as a hotel/guest house. It's quite a nice idea and means you're slightly out of the way from the usual foray of travellers. The place I stayed at - Vino Paying Guest House - was more sophisticated affair but very much still family run. The room was great for 250 INR (that's about 3quid), food was good too.
Some lovely people were staying at the guest house. Although I nearly threw myself out of the window when the inevitable 'traaavellaaar' talk began. It's the usual 'who's done what, been where and who's out done who on the "I've been to the most secluded place on earth" front. God, it's so bloody dull. I asked an Italian girl where she'd stayed in Pushkar as that was my next port of call. She smirked and then proudly (and loudly) told me that I wouldn't have heard of it as only Indian people stay there and then went on to tell me that Pushkar was so 'last year...it's all about Udaipur you know'. I went to bed before the inevitable narcalepsy that I tend to suffer from when these type of conversations start. Aaaaah, you gotta love the travel snobs.
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