Thursday 30 October 2014

AWESOME


Bo's'n. fyi.

The dogs here are not nice. They are mostly feral, though I did spot one on a lead being whipped by its owner. They growl and fight, and scream and yelp, are covered in sores, and top dogs copulate with unwilling bitches with swollen dugs under your very nose.

Wednesday 29 October 2014

Here today and gone tomorrow...

...BUT BACK AGAIN THE DAY AFTER!

I really do blow hot and cold about this whistle stop tour of Rajasthan I was seduced into. But rollin up to a different posh hotel every couple of days and havin my rucksack carried in for me is a style I shall miss when it's over...

The blogs are a bit of a jumble, but the route so far has been: Delhi - Mandawa - Bikaner - Jaisalmer - Jodhpur - Udaipur -  Pushkar - Jaipur -

And tomorrow at 7 onward to Agra - Amritsar - Dharamsala - and Ferenjinan. There to rest a while and try to recover from the worst dose of asthma I think I've ever had. Brought on I am sure by a toxic cocktail of dust, petrol exhaust fumes and wrong scented flowers.

Original plan was to take this region at a slower pace, but now realise my respiratory system is not up to Indian cities. Choke choke cough and cough. So while not enough time in each place to do it all, there's ample for the essential...and I should hopefully have more time to ease my way round the south.

But it's those Brief Encounters that I want to write about... The recurring ones... the ships that pass and pass again. Like the Indian Guide who warned me of the dangers of walking through a village alone at night in MANDAWA, and was there for me to wish him Happy Diwali in Jodhpur. We finally said goodbye where pigs were rooting through rubbish in Pushkar.
And Bernhard, the German, who jacked in a decent job because they wouldn't give him a sabbatical and whose camp bed was a few yards from mine the night in the desert. Walked into reception yesterday when I was writin to Bo's'n. Colin! Bernhard! This time we exchanged e-mail addresses, as he's here for the long haul too.
The three frenchies who never smiled and looked down their noses at everything. I clocked them three times, but avoided contact. Best leave them to it.
But the record goes to Lewis and Tess who were there in my snap of the red onions, were out on the town for Diwali in Jodhpur, and I can't remember where else...hitting it full on with Southern Hemisphere warmth and good humour. Today. Spooky. We literally bumped into each othe in the labyrinth of Amber Fort just north of Jaipur. They agreed to a portrait shot for the blog,  so Greetings...and Farewell to you both. It was great to have traveled a stretch of The Route with you.

Diwali

Have been caught up, jostled, tossed about, spun around, crushed and wrung out in the national psychosis that is Diwali.
An Irishman I was talking to said if you put Christmas, Easter, Hallowe'en, Guy Fawkes' Night, New Year, and any other celebration you could think of together, it still wouldn't add up to Diwali. I didn't do the sums, but I don't think he was far out in his reckoning.
You could feel it coming. The days leading up to the 23rd. Shopping, for cooking pots, motorbikes and pedal cycles, jewellery and saris for the women, new outfits for the men and boys. Sweets, cakes, decorations, fireworks... Diwali Night everyone took to the streets...The snaps don't show how incredibly NOISY it all was, or how the air in the alleys and passages of the town was almost unbreathable...




Tuesday 28 October 2014

Green Onions (Booker T and the MG's)

Picked up a very cheering e-mail from Boatswain or Bo's'n, (Huh! Soon as my back's turned he's gone an got a new moniker!) Clearly livin the high life and appreciatin a diet of top class lickings and scrapins, and all set to hound me from HIS OWN E-MAIL ADDRESS.

An e-mailin dog? How can I cope?

So if any one wants to send a private Grrrwoooofffff or greetin to The Caff's favourite Labrador, drop me an e-mail and I'll let you know his e-address. That'll keep him on his paws.

Breakfast today on the roof terrace at Pushkar. Idyllic surroundings, morning light, and the usual conversation... Where have you been? Where are you goin? Philosophically difficult questions, but we stick to the easy answers...

Then along comes a young man who empties a crate of red onions over the floor. Some of them must be on the turn, because the stink sharpens the air, and puts paid to a pleasant half hour over a pot of tea.
This sort of thing happens all the time, there is constant flux between the beautiful and the damned, and the division is fluid and fragile. India. Look up the title (Green Onions) on YouTube...and enjoy!

Sunday 26 October 2014

Wanted. The Observers Book of Indian Birds

Once a year I got taken to The Zoo. On a Monday, because it was cheaper to get in. Corned beef sandwiches wrapped in grease proof the night before. And we always walked from Camden Town to save a bit on the fare.
As you went through the turnstiles there were birds of prey to your right, left to see the humming birds. And on the way a whole series of cages containing finches, weaver birds, lyre birds, and peafowl.
Every day, since my arrival in Delhi, I have seen birds that could be from those cages (with labels in English and Latin, and a distribution map.) And though I don't know what they are, it's as exciting as a day at the zoo to see them flying free



Saturday 25 October 2014

SELFIE Indulgence

Spot the bloke in the hat photobombin this lot.                           (All done by mirrors.)

Ambushed in the mountains

A road block set up by the youngsters yesterday dressed in Divali best and demanding a R10 toll.
(Penny for the guy, mister?)

Friday 24 October 2014

Angry

It's seeing the kids; four, five or so years old but grown up beyond their years.
Poverty scored into their faces. And the babies, the ones and two year olds who are already acquiring a certain expression.

I've always had "a bit of a social conscience", but the random unfairness of it all is monstrous and goes beyond what I can put into words.


Thursday 23 October 2014

Tickets for the Sunset. (Mervyn Peake, Titus Alone)

I came to India knowing that witnessing poverty would be part of the deal. And I'm finding it difficult. We pass through dusty, polluted towns and villages, teeming with people struggling against so many odds. Poor they may be, but they are proud.
Then there are those who live by trickery.
And then there are the beggars.

The Night in the Desert Experience was really no more than a bit of amusement for rich westerners. Yes, it was fun to ride on Sarya, and I had never seen so many stars, the Milky Way was a thick smear as if across the screen of my new iPad bought specially for the trip. The silence, the stillness, the vastness of it all...as I lay on my open camp bed and drifted off to sleep.
But before that, as the sun started to go down the punters spread out to find their own solitude or togetherness; and it was then that the beggar boy, about 15 or 16 years old started his rounds.

I heard him approaching. I stared ahead, determined to ignore him and he might go away. He stood in front of me and whined 10 rupees, just 10 rupees. 

I stared past him, angry that he was "spoiling" "MY" sunset... Well, I'd paid good money for this!

Look at me, Sir. It's important. Look at me.

I looked. He stood before me displaying both arms that ended in stumps where his elbows might be.

Ten rupees, Monopoly money worth about ten pence.

I pulled out a note from my westerners' wallet and he indicated to me to slip it into his trouser pocket. And with a quick sideways lurch he pushed it down with his stump and went on his way, no word of thanks.

There he is, scurrying across the sand like a scarab beetle, and ruining one of the pictures of  MY view.




Wednesday 22 October 2014

CHAMEAU!

The camel's name was Sarya, and in temperament reminded me a lot of Bo's'n. Those who know Bo's'n will know exactly what I mean, those who don't, must try and read these photos.

The French, of course, have a word for it. It's CHAMEAU!




Tuesday 21 October 2014

Queen of Fucking Everything?

Well, dear FriedFish, after hearing your stories yesterday, MrsMatisse and I agreed that we do admire your intrepid spirit, but we prefer a  mode of travel with a few more creature comforts.
And when we see what you call a chaise longue....   picturesque, yes, but really, compared to Prestonfield House?
Here are a couple of pictures to remind you of the difference, and also a bit of advice. Be careful when  it comes to claiming the Queen of Fucking Everything title, I tried and lost.  Just look at her majesty on that chaise......



The Queen of Fuckin Everything

If Prestonfield House in Edinburgh provides us with the yardstick by which to measure all chaises longues, then this one, at a rest stop on the road to Jaisalmer, falls somewhat short of The Standard... (I prefer a bit more than two inches, but who doesn't?)


Monday 20 October 2014

The Delhi Experience (part 2)

Must find someone to put my trust in. Not easy. A tuk-tuk driver. Student. Making a bit of extra cash during the Diwali Holidays. But he had no better luck finding the Prince Polonia, and suggested ringing them.

I watched him dial, he handed me his phone.

Hallo. Yes. No. Very sorry. Hotel now full. No room. It's gone. Festival time. No. Yes. Very sorry.

Shit.

I ask to go to the government tourist office but get taken to a dodgy outfit. We end up at what I believed to be the real thing but didn't find out til too late that it wasn't. Three cups of sweetened chai and I could feel the silken threads binding lightly around the wounds of the Bewilderedbeast. Never my intention but I signed up for a tour of Rajasthan by private car. Three days in, and I have been to places wi-fi doesn't reach, and it is simply amazing...


Sunday 19 October 2014

The dream becomes a nightmare (Part 1)

I knew it was coming, Ferenjinan had warned me. But Nothing, absolutely Nothing prepared me for what actually happened... Delhi knocked my block and socks off, and for a while I was mewling like a new born after a difficult labour on the scullery floor.

Thought I'd try and be clever, and successfully negotiated the Metro from airport to the city centre, and was flung into the noisy hot and stinking confusion of tuk-tuks n taxis, dogs, beggars, touts n cycle rickshaws. My personal immobiliser turned itself on and I just stood and stared.

I'd booked 2 nights at The Hotel Prince Polonia in Tilak Street, a bit of a no-go area, but it was a good internet deal from a reputable website, and at this stage I was still feeling things would work out as planned. But In Delhi a Plan can be scuppered in the glint of an eye.

I showed the address to a cycle rickshaw man, asked whether he could take me, we agreed on R50, and in I climbed. Cycle rickshaw took me across several lanes (except there are no lanes in this wild free-for-all) of traffic and turfed me out on the other side and demanded his money. I'd been had. He tried to pocket the R100 note until I remonstrated and his cronies, afraid of a "scene", advised him to give me the change...

Shaken, I tried to draw breath outside the station where I felt shockingly conspicuous among the pavement dwellers.

I turn to a tuk-tuk, there's animated discussion among the drivers as to the exact location. It was pretty obvious that nobody could actually read the address, but that was no reason for not taking me...

We drove off into the Bazaar district, streets and alleys narrowing in on the little tin truck

You'll have to walk from here, he said. It's just down there.

I paid him up, he disappeared, and I'd been had again.

A false alarm

(should anyone wish to know) and the Immodium remains in the medicine bag.

Guide books, and others with far greater travel experience than mine (including the nurse at the GPs' Travel Clinic) have shared with me these past months tales of  their first hand experience of "Delhi belly", or horror stories about "someone they know who..."

They ended up side by side on hospital beds both of them on drips

He was really ill. I had to buy a course of antibiotics for him
   
...decided to get the next flight home...

Took pills every day and were the only ones in their party who didn't get ill

So I'm playing safe, not eating salads, and trying to keep my mouth shut in the shower. And I'm travelling with 153 days' supply of probiotic pills in The Medicine Bag, and a similar quantity of water purifying tablets. I am also convinced that every mouthful of food and drink I have will be the one to bring it on...

Tut! This neurotic obsession of mine has really got to be overcome.

(From FF  in Bikaner)

Saturday 18 October 2014

Joining The Mile High Club

It was quarter to midnight by the time the trolley reached seat 43H with the airline meal.

Are you vegetarian?

Er, no, I'm not.

Would you like to try the pan fried fish?

Well I could hardly refuse...

Quarter past three in the mornin and I'm sat in that infamous cubicle with a touch o the squitters. Oh dear. Something I was NOT bargaining for. Been takin probiotic pills for nearly a week to ward off such things. Is that what people mean when they talk of The Mile High Club?

Friday 17 October 2014

Twentya Cross

Well, just one day away and you are already famous!  Your pal Gordon paid you a little tribute in today's crossword:  Clue 20 across:


Well, "his differ" everyone in the Caff is talking about you and wishing you all the best.

As I type this I'm trying to picture you, wandering around Delhi with your fancy hat, your expensive tee shirt and your mouth open in amazement.

PS You can delete this post if you like, I just didn't know what would be the best way to get the message to you, but I wanted you to know, after all it's not often that one makes it to the crossword, especially as an anagram.




Thursday 16 October 2014

As I walked out...

A day of  bright Gloucestershire sunshine. Makes me think of that Mid-Summer Morning at Stonehenge, but the light is more mellow...emotionally speaking. Thoughts of Laurie Lee (it's the centenary of his birth too,)  as I fasten the clips on my rucksack and slip the iPad into its special pocket in my cabin bag.. Not for me the tin of treacle biscuits and a violin in a blanket, a small rolled up tent and a hazel stick in hand...

I've just been re-reading that opening chapter and still find it inspiring.

It sent me to France in 1966, '7 and '8;  and 1969 into Spain as far as Toledo.

...and now India awaits.

My head's awhizz with excitement... But that "confident belief in good fortune" as Laurie puts it, I'm less sure of... Hey Welsh Granny! Pull us a pint of it please!

See you at the other end - and if you can lay your hands on a copy, you read that first chapter too.

Intoxicating.


Tuesday 14 October 2014

The Handover

Bo's'n has gone to his new home. The introductory visits to Bedfordshire have paid off,  and he arrived to greet his new carers full of wag and excitement; by the time I left, he'd got his paws well and truly under the table... He's that sort of dog.

Tonight, back in Gloucester, the house feels empty.

At the time, I got full custody and since then Bo'ie and I have faced the world together - joined hip to haunch for almost six years. Access was never applied for.

So this  was the biggest goodbye, and after the photo shoot I just had to get in the car and drive away.

I didn't look back.








Monday 13 October 2014

Funeral Music

Sunday evenin, and  time on the phone to old friends - the ones in S. Devon go back to the Grammar School, the other a former colleague - all of them the sort of friends you can look shit and Death in the face with. And I know that's what I'm puttin off tonight...

The To Do list is lookin almost manageable, but one of the items not yet crossed off simply reads: Funeral Arrangements. I've been avoidin it for years, but this trip has brought it into focus... I may not get back all right. And then what?

Once I'd've said Pwah! Fantasy! But not any more. Shit happens...

From The Rough Guide to India:
"Four to five hundred (rail) crashes occur annually in India, causing between seven and eight hundred fatalities, which makes this the most dangerous rail network in the world, by a long chalk. Having said that, traveling by rail is considerably safer than using the buses. According to the most recent statistics, nearly 135,000 people died on the roads in 2010."

So tonight after tea, (I know I usually eat very late, but the timings on this blog are already set to Indian State Time,) I shall dig out the CD's and list the tracks I want played, and write out in neat those few lines from Waitin for Godot that say it all, locate the long passage in The Great Gatsby, that tells of all those who went to Jay's parties (more or less the first section of Chapter IV, always leaves me breathless), and then I shall go through my address book and mark off those I want informing ahead of the show.
Some Gatherin, eh?

There. I feel better, even before I've done it.

Thursday 9 October 2014

A Family Send-off!


27/28th Sept, a very special Gatherin in Bristol. Cheers Col', seeya Dad, 'bye Grumps.

Off you go, Father! Just go! You don't need to worry about us, we'll be all right. (And we won't be worryin too much about you either!)

Permission granted, and gratefully received.

It struck me, that weekend, how very adult we were all becoming. I felt really proud of them - and I quietly hoped they felt a little bit the same about me... Going to India might be an achievement, but here was gathered My Greatest Achievement of All...  And the sweet sorrow of parting? Yes. Thank you Shakespeare. That will be all...









Tuesday 7 October 2014

Love-bombed

Two weeks ago there was definitely summat fishy goin on. What's that? A postcard from Cornwall signed MJ, with a smiley? And a card from BSB? Then the penny dropped. Others arrived over the next couple of days. Talk about FeelGood. The messages were incredibly warm and glowy, encouraging, inspiring. E-mails started jamming the inbox from all over. Wonderful!
QCCers ¡os saludo!

Monday 6 October 2014

The Long Goodbye

Still ten or eleven days to go, and I'm in to what I can only describe as The Long Goodbye.

I've never been much good at saying that word. Maybe it all goes back to early emotional insecurities and uncertainties. Who knows? But I do know I hold on to things. I am a hoarder - a collector of junk, a charityshopaholic in search of other people's cast offs. A Gatherer. And I'm not just talkin material stuff - books, pictures, ceramics. Intangibles like friendship, are in there too. So, for whatever reason, Goodbye doesn't come easy.

The idea of going travelling like this came at a time of crisis. La Grande Divorce, and the reasons for it. I wanted to run away from everything. I wanted to dive into chaos, I wanted to be outside every possible comfort zone - linguistic, social, cultural, everything. And ALONE. To wander lonely as a cloud, I suppose. (Though I've never been particularly fond of Wordsworth.)

So, you are really wanting to experience a bit of adversity, said Mr Starrock.

 Yes, I said. But not too much.

(Because between then - that time of crisis - and now, Right Now, Life has Looked Up.)

It's a very different me that will be setting off for five months, from the one that was intending to run away for a whole year.

Interestingly, I'm finding the Goodbyes quite an enjoyable part of the process.

I have been to the garden centre on Stroud Road to get voilas to plant now, ready for my return in the spring. Some wallflowers too.