Where's Alexander?

The service at the Taj

2009-05-01T14:24:00.006+10:00

as always, is impeccable (except when arresting us for using the pool).

Dear Mr.Pos ,

The Management & Staff of The Taj Mahal Palace & Tower Mumbai join me in extending to you our warmest wishes on your Birthday. May this coming year be filled with all finest things for you & many more years to come.

Warm Regards,

Payel Bhattacharjee

Guest Relations Executive

The Taj Mahal Palace & Tower,

Mumbai-400001

Tel: +91-22-66653366

Fax: +91-22-66650300

E-mail: payel.bhattacharjee@tajhotels.com

Website: www.tajhotels.com

Where's Alexander now?

2009-01-21T22:13:00.003+11:00

Well briefly, I'm in Mumbai, with a day or two before flying to Sydney for a week. The last few months of my blog still have to be blogged - Delhi, Jaipur, Pushkar, Pune, Goa again and Mumbai. And of course general specials on hygiene, family relations in India and the like have to be written. Fear not, I have lots of notes and will continue to blog when I get home. Only then you can come round and see me.

So to the question 'where will I be', the answer is Sydney, doing an Arts Degree at the University of Sydney. Thanks to all who helped with my application. I'll be in Tasmania during February and I'm looking forwards to seeing you all then.

Birthday roundup

2009-01-09T02:47:00.002+11:00

Congratulations on getting a year older to Edward, Rob, and in a few days, my Granny!

Nepal overview

2009-01-09T02:39:00.004+11:00

Nepal is a lot more shanti than

India

. The people are more relaxed and friendly. Even the worst of the tourist areas, Thamel in Kathmandu, is a breeze after, say, pretty much any equivalent area in any Indian city. But it takes some adjustment to go from

India

Nepal

. In

India

, everything and everyone is larger than life. In

Nepal

things are much cooler, but less likely to happen unless you make them.

Here's a random quote from a blog that sums up my feelings on arriving in Kathmandu pretty well:

As we dumped our bags in our hotel room in Pokhara a member of staff asked if we wanted some 'welcome tea'. We looked at him suspiciously and asked how much and he laughed saying we must have come from India. He came back with the two teas saying 'Relax, your in Nepal now' and we have done just that.

When I first arrived I was still used to the Indian way of bargaining for things – aggressive, full of little tricks and plays (the walk-away is an old favourite), and kinda fun. In Nepal they will start with a price to high, then you give your price, then they will just smile, say no and wait. What for? They’re meant to come down in price, I come up, and we meet in the middle. Instead your price just goes up and up. In Nepal they charm you into paying too much.

Whether from lots of Western influence through NGO’s and tourism, or just the national character, people seem to be on the same page. In India, it can sometimes be like starting on different pages on different books on opposite ends of the library. Nepali's won’t start a conversation and ask how much you earn or enquire about your relationship status. The ubiquitous hawker’s call of “hello, hello” is replaced by “excuse me…”. Out of the cities everyone greets everyone with prayered hands and a namaste - you feel silly at first but then it's really nice, and people appreciate it.

While the cities, to be honest, are not that great after India, the countryside is wonderful. Beautiful, different everywhere you go (because of the steep terrain, you can walk through different climates in a few hours, and feel like you’re walking through different countries. People adapt to the different climates in different ways in a the same valley), often great views of the Himalayas (pronounced Himaalya, darlink). Plenty of cheap places to stop and stay while you wander around, and at least where I went, nowhere that’s too hard to go for the average person. Plus there are buses running everywhere.

Physically, Nepal is kind of like Tasmania, although more beautiful (although Tassie's temperate rainforest has it beat), except when it's being more beautiful than the south of France (and nearly always with the Himalayas soaring overhead). Nepali's have a lot of problems, but what with living in one of the most beautiful countries in the world, pound for pound they are probably one of the happiest people in the world. Even the animals look happy. And why not? They are living in Nepal.

(Actually, the above thought was scribbled down while watching lots of happy looking goats being driven around on motorcycles on the way up to Sarangkot. The next day turned out to be Dashain, the big goat-slaughtering festival. But goats look happy anywhere, I've discovered)

People are going to be angry at me for not going "trekking" - but I didn't want to have to buy all the gear, and then sell it when I was done. It's more fun with someone else, and when I was here the monsoon was still going on so you couldn't see much most of the time. Anyway, I did my equivalent - Alex trekking.

There’s a huge phwoar factor here too. Nepali women are immensely attractive. A lot of them dress in really eye-catching western clothes. Men dress in snappy western trousers and shirts, often with a topi and waistcoat. The older women and some younger dress in traditional Nepali clothes.

After roughing it in

India

, the tourists in

Nepal

seemed despicable to me at first. All clad in expensive gore-tex and hiking gear, humping their day-packs around the cities like they're on an expedition, flown straight in from

America

France

Germany

. And all so good looking and clean! Tourists in

India

are never clean.

Food is not that great – mostly Dal Baat, basically rice with vegetable curry, lentils and a papad. Every night. The tourist restaurants though, especially after

India

, are pretty amazing. And every hotel you go to in

India

seems to have a Nepali cook or two.

It seems everywhere you look in the countryside there’s an NGO project going on – millions of dollars get poured into Nepal every year - almost half the budget comes from foreign aid (and they need it – 45% of the country lives in poverty, there are terrible rates of education and health), and there are no taxes to speak of. Eventually some of the foreign aid sometimes gets to where it’s needed. Indologists, Tibetologists and even a few Nepalologists are thick on the ground researching

Nepal

’s customs, religions, languages and refugees.

Ethnically and culturally the people are a mix of Tibetans, Chinese and Indians (moving in stages from the Indian border in the south to the Tibetan border to the north). Religion is a mix of Hinduism and Buddhism. Caste is even more crazy (or less devolved than

India

has become -

Nepal

was only recently opened up to the west). Generally, a barber's daughter is going to get married to a barber's son.

Since the 60s there's been a slow cultural revolution going on - numerous 'dance bars', western shops and ideas have been introduced. Since the Communist rebels came to power (just before I arrived), a new sort of cultural revolution has been swinging things the other way - dance bars are still open but there are curfews and stricter policing. There are power cuts every day, even in Kathmandu.

The best thing regarding the Communists is to not mention the war. Nearly everyone asks you what you think of them, and the general consensus seems to be wait and see what they do (they might not be so corrupt as previous governments). I put my foot in it when I mentioned was in favour of them with one guy, who then told me how he had watched the Communists kill his mother as she got in the way of a gunfight (they were confiscating land held privately by a rich Nepali). Then another guy, who I was more reserved with, turned out to be the leader of the Youth Communists in his school. Things will be a lot less corrupt, he said, now that he had stacked the votes there. Animal Farm.

In general, the people are so trapped by the caste system (which has it's positives and negatives always) and a succession of corrupt governments that the catch-all phrase to any dissatisfying situation is a shrug and "what to do?" See, this post was actually a three-way pun!

Here's a pic of the new and old currency, with the King replaced by Mt. Everest.

That’s about all I can remember for now, there’s a lot to be said for writing things down immediately. But overall it’s a lovely place, the people are warm and friendly, and the countryside is beautiful. Whenever I see a Nepali in India I always share a smile and the few words of Nepali I picked up.

Maya's Nepali Recipes

2009-01-09T01:37:00.000+11:00

Maya from Sarangkot.

Veg Pakora:

Mix chopped (thinly, or grated) firm veges (potato is good)
Add garlic, onion, chilli, coriander, yellow tumeric, salt & pepper, corn flour, masala mix
Roll into small patties with oiled hands
Fry in oil coming half way up patty until golden brown, turn.

Maya's Delicious Chutney

Veg oil in pan. Add pinch of cumin seed until brown.
Add onion and garlic (one spoon each) until brown
Add 2 or 3 chopped green chillies, salt, pepper & yellow tumeric
Add 2 or 3 chopped tomatoes (or mangoes, etc)
Cook 5 mins on medium heat
Season with coriander

Pokhara II - This time, it's personal

2009-01-09T01:35:00.002+11:00

On that Sarangkot hillside, watching the crazy paragliders jump into nothing, I noticed a suitably impressive looking Swami. He was from India, travelling with his western students. He's a commercial swami (he has his own Myspace page!) and goes from Goa to Rishikesh to Pokhara, following his (lucrative) students around. Does he know Gosh, my uncle, who lives in a cave on a beach? Of course he does!

Back in Pokhara I went into a bookshop I had gone to before. The conversation had gone roughly like this:

Me browsing, bearded shopkeeper hovering.

Guy: Looking for anything?
Me: Just passing time
Guy: It's easy to pass time. Everyone here is just passing time [dissaprovingly]
Me, taking a book out, looking at it, then putting it back slightly out of place.
Guy: Put it back right, or don't take it out at all.
Me: Ok ok. Whistling innocently, trying to stay happy
Guy: Don't whistle. It may be ok in Western countries, but on the sub-continent it's very bad luck [I've checked this and haven't heard of it anywhere else].
Me, leaving: Thankyou.
Guy: Don't thank me... but I was out the door.

Unnecessarily grumpy shopkeepers fascinate me (hello Anton!), so I headed back for some more punishment. He seemed surprised that I'd come, we got talking, he shared his knowledge of a dozen languages, the books on yoga he was writing, his numerous students abroad, his trance music, and of course, Gosh. Is there an international fraternity of slightly strange western-orientated gurus?

So what did I do the rest of my time in Pokhara? I spent some time improving my pool game, particularly against two English guys. Whenever an Australian plays an English person, in any sport, it's the Ashes. And you get all the mental edge that implies - they are thinking 'Warney Warney Warney no matter what position we get ourselves in he will win oh no oh no'. You're thinking 'I can't lose to them at any cost, I can see the fear in their eyes', and the battle's half won. But it's not enough just to win - you have to be like Warney, bedevilling and befuddling the hapless Englishmen. You have to crush them mentally. No one speaks of it, but in the crowded corner of the pub, between you and them, it's the Ashes.

What else did I do? For some reason, I ended up overstaying my visa. It may have had something to do with a girl. I couldn't possibly comment.

Merry Christmas to everyone

2008-12-30T21:11:00.004+11:00

Ho ho ho.

Vedic maths, Part 2

2008-12-10T21:18:00.002+11:00

In the last lesson we learnt the basic vedic style for multiplication and addition - going from left to right. There are a few more developments on this later - but once you've got the trick it's very handy. When I'm bored I like to double numbers in my head: 1, 2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024 etc. I get a lot further with this technique.

Anyway this lesson is just going to be some simple tricks you can do. Some are just common sense or you may know already.

Multiplication by 4, 8, 16, 20, 40 etc:

Doubling numbers is easy, so in multiplying a number, by say, 4, you just double the number twice (and again to multiply by 8).

In doubling, say, 152, it may be easier to split 152 into 15,2 and double 15 to 30 and 2 to 4, getting 304. This number splitting gets used a lot. Multiplying by 40, 800, you just double the right number of times and add the appropriate number of noughts. 17 x 40 = 17, 34, 68, 680.

Extending the multiplication table:

Say you want 14 x 18. You may not know this off the top of your head, but you may know that 7 x 9 = 63. Since 14 and 18 are double of 7 and 9 you can just double 63 twice: 126, 252. For 14 x 7, since 7 x 7 = 49, 14 x 7 = 98. for 17 x 14 you can either multiply 17 by 7 and double the result, or find 16 14's and add another 14 (238).

Multiplication by 5, 25, 50 etc:

Rather than multiplying a number by 5, you can just put a 0 onto the number and halve it (because half of 10 is 5). 44 x 5 = 440, 220. 27 x 50 = 2700, 1350. Using the number splitting above, an easy way to halve 2700 would be to split the number into 2,70,0 and halve the sections (1,35,0).

For multiplication by 25 you multiply by 100 and halve twice. 82 x 25 =8200, 4100, 2050. 181 x 25 = 18100 (18,10,0), 9050 (90,50), 4525.

Squaring numbers that end in 5:

Use the formula 'by one more than the one before'. For 75 squared, multiply the 7 by the next number up, 8. This gives 56 for the first part of the answer, and the last part is just 25 (5 squared). So 75 squared = 5625. 305 squared = 30 x 31 + 25 = 93025 (930,25).

Mumbai terror attacks - I'm ok

2008-11-27T18:04:00.009+11:00

I got into Delhi last night.

There are approximately 150 million Muslims in India, and relations between the 80% Hindu population have been strained ever since partition. Muslims, on the whole, are treated rather badly here, and there have been periodic bouts of sectarian violence and reprisals on both sides. It seems one of Mumbai's outbursts of religion-fuelled violence has happened again.

Several groups started shooting, taking hostages, and lobbing grenades around popular spots in Mumbai. The heritage wing of the Taj Mahal Hotel (Mumbai's premier hotel, and where I stayed for my birthday) is on fire, Cafe Leopold's (a popular institution taken over by tourists, and where Shantaram was written) was attacked, as was the Metro theatre - a beautiful 1940s art deco cinema, the central train station, hospitals, and various other locations. Terrorists in various places were asking for British and American citizens.

The Indian Mujahaddin has claimed responsibility, which means it may be a while before I venture into the old (and more interesting) Muslim section of Delhi.

Update:

Added to this post, Metro Cinema is near where Pheroze lives, and I'll have to check back on the friendly Colaba cop when I get back.

Update 2:

And I believe Chabad House was where I celebrated Passover with the dead Rabbi and his family, some Israeli tourists and some Indian Jews (who have been here a long, long time).

Update 3:

Picture link one and two

Update 4:

Two sides of the Taj debate: tails (how I felt the first time I visited the Taj) and heads (how I felt after staying there)

To tide you over...

2008-11-07T03:50:00.003+11:00

Here's a post from a great column (?) that is well worth adding to your feed reader. Or checking regularly, Mum.

My friend Jon from Bombay saw the Ganesh Chaturthi and Janmashthmi festivals in Bombay. During Janmashthmi, he said the man who broke the pot was about 30 feet up, and hung on the rope for a while before dropping into the crowd and disappearing from sight.

Going to the test tomorrow...

2008-11-02T03:30:00.002+11:00

to cheer for a come-from-behind victory. Watch for me in the press box ;)

Sarangkot

2008-10-30T17:09:00.001+11:00

After my friend left I decided to go up to Sarangkot for the day. It's a little village on a hill outside of Pokhara, and it's the thing to do outside of the main city. The drive up was so beautiful I either had to ask the driver (supplied by my hotel) to stop every minute so I could get out and take a photo, or just give up on the whole thing. Unfortunately for you lot, I gave up on the whole thing.

A quick word picture of the best though - on a bend in the road, a Nepali guy in normal Nepali clothes (shirt, vest, topi) reclining on a tussock, the perfect triangular snow-covered peak of Machhapuchhre behind him.

Sarangkot is another one of those Nepali village paradises, a little touristy, but still the sort of place where everytime you look around you go 'ahhhh....' it's the visual equivalent of the feeling you get after lying on the beach a few hours during the summer holidays. On one side you look down onto Pokhara, the lake, and the valley, on the other you get an un-interrupted view of the Annapurna's (well, they were only totally clear the day I came up and didn't take photos, but you get the idea). You know those pictures of French or Swiss villages you get on puzzle boxes? The place is like that.

In the midst of all this eye candy, I was able to internet people. "Hi Benny, I'm on a hilltop gazing at the Himalayas in a beautiful village. What are you up to?" Incongruous.

The first night I had the guest house to myself, the next night an Aussie girl and an English girl joined me, then they paraglided back down to Pokhara the next morning. I thought about it, then thought about it some more, then decided there's no way I'd pay to do that. I wanted to get a flight around the Himalayas, but that crashed while I was there too.

Also, I have my first grey hair. Here's some pictures of Sarangkot:

From the lookout. It's also an army outpost, with one guy, a tin shed that says 'Army' on the side, and some barbed wire:

Clouds are intense there. Those are eagles:

View from my guest house. They wake up to this view every morning. That's Maya on the left, she gave me some recipes:

Taking it easy...

The big paragliding expedition. Would I go?

No, no, I would not go, I would not go for all the dough.

On the way back up I saw this happy looking goat. Why so happy, Mr. Goat?

'Cause he escaped this fate, I think:

Wild flowers of Nepal:

Me on the way down, all tikka'd up for Dassain (big Nepali festival):

Wave goodbye, little one, see you next time:

Pokhara

2008-10-25T19:25:00.004+11:00

Ah, the third 'P'.

Imagine a small city in a valley, next to a lake. Imagine the Annapurnas soaring behind. I'm in Pokhara, which is a kind of heaven. It's touristy, but touristy in a totally western way which is even enjoyable - you can get a good steak and chips - cool bars, nice clothes, clean hotels. You pay for all this, of course, but it's comparatively reasonable.

There's kind of a beach hippie culture going on, but it's nicely tempered and not as annoying as at Goa. You can go boating on the lake, with the mountains reflected behind, or even paragliding from a nearby hillside village. I spent a lot of time in bars, working on my pool game. The time of year was almost perfect - the monsoon clouds were beginning to clear, sunsets ripening and the weather warm.

My friend Jon from Bombay, who is now working in India with his girlfriend (of cheerleading fame), also came up to Nepal for a Visa run and we spent a few days together:

That's a cigarette, folks.

The hotel room, the morning after:

Nearby Devi's Falls:

I went back to Pokhara, but more on that later.

Shangri-La

2008-10-25T19:22:00.002+11:00

While getting into Dhulikhel and having a Sprite, I got chatting with a guy basically because he could speak English. He'd been around, been involved in the movie industry, etc. He worked for a women's micro-finance bank - taking deposits and giving small loans to village women so they can buy a cow, etc. It was down in a nearby valley and I said I would go visit the next day.

The valley turned out to be soooooooooo beautiful I don't want to name it - it's mine! Let's call it Shangi-La. It used to be on the trading route to Tibet, let's just leave it at that. The road down was so pretty that I got off the bus and walked. In the valley there are several villages, a small town, and plenty of farmland. It's kind of a pastoral paradise, like something Van Gogh would have painted or you'd find in the south of France or Spain or Italy - stands of sunflowers, corn, rice, potatoes, fruit trees, bufallo, goats and chickens wandering around, brown adobe or grander country houses, the place clean and the people happy, the climate warm and fertile.

I spent the day with Sudeep going round to some of the villages for the meetings under the Pipl trees, interest was paid and loans were given out, and we began and ended the meetings with a song and a prayer. The bank conducts training programs so everyone understands their duties, the woman must be married and her family must agree, but the account is her responsibility. I asked Sudeep why they concentrated on women, he said it's because they need more support in Nepali culture, and also they're more trustworthy than the local men.

Below are some pics of Sudeep, another friend whose name I can't remember (sorry!), and the beautiful views on the way down to and in the valley.

Ach!

2008-10-25T00:48:00.006+11:00

I'll backblog about Nepal later, but I'm in Delhi and I "lost" my camera on the way here. Luckily I'd put all my photos onto a DVD the day before, so I only lost a few shots.

Anyone want to contribute to the new camera? Unfortunately, electonics in India aren't any cheaper than home.

Dhulikhel

2008-10-20T20:26:00.001+11:00

About two ours bus ride east of Kathmandu is Dhulikhel, with supposedly one of the best views of the Himalayas in Nepal. Most of the time when I was there it was cloudy (it was still monsoon), but in the mornings and evenings I got glimpses of the mountains behind the clouds. They were pretty impressive - I'd imagined them to be maybe half as high as they were. You had to look up, then keep looking up.

I stayed in a small village about half an hours walk outside the main tourist drag (filled with holidaying Nepalis and Indians). The people there were Tamangs, originally from Tibet. A family had recently set up a guest house with help from an Australian NGO. They were still cementing it, but it was lovely and quiet. The mum cooked in an outside hut in traditional style, over a small fire.

Here's the pics:

View from my windows:

Pot plants in my lawn:

Traditional cooking - awesome knife tool. You cook cross-legged on the floor, putting pressure on the blade with your knee to keep it stable, then slice things into a bowl. Surely some adjustment could be made to attach it to a bench:

A closer look:

The naughty kid who showed me round the village, including the Australian-made toilet and sewerage project:

One day one of the builders brought his pet fox for me to see. Isn't he a happy fox?

Here's some more local wildlife:

Here's some pics for my friend Benny.

A man and his duck:

A woman and her duck. This was on top of a bus - the only way to travel in Nepal.

Passive agressively, I'm still waiting for more suggestions below.

Indian Philosophy, crash course

2008-10-13T19:39:00.005+11:00

Having no central book, it's hard to get a grasp on what Indian philosophy is all about. Strangely, the best explanation I found was in an introduction to Richard Burton's translation of the Kama Sutra:

The goals of human life (the Purusarthas) are listed as dharma, artha, kama, and moksha. The first three, known as the trivarga, are to be practiced in this life, and if done successfully will lead to moksha, which constitutes the ultimate liberation of the soul or spirit (atman) from the cycle of rebirths(samsara) through which man must pass in order to purify himself from all evil before merging into the cosmic soul (Brahman).

Dharma is considered the most important. It means right conduct, or truth.

Artha means worldly pursuits, mainly economic. This is a problem for a lot of people who come to India expecting everyone to be 'spiritually' minded, and find out a lot of people are concerned with making money (usually off you). Artha is most often put in the framework of providing for your family.

Kama is love or desire, the creative force in the universe. The Buddha saw Kama as the root of samsara and sought to eliminate it.

The Kama Sutra lists 64 skills of men and women that will make them beloved and respected by all. Some are Indian-specific (such as 'binding of turbans and chaplets, and making crests and topknots of flowers'), some are Indian-specific but outdated (I've never seen anyone skilled in 'fixing stained glass on a floor'), some are just quirky ('playing on musical glasses filled with water'), but some make good sense ('tailor's work and sewing', 'carpentry', 'knowledge of languages and the vernacular dialects', 'various ways of gambling').

So what 64 skills are essential for the modern man or woman?

-- Edit: We have 2 essential skills. I'm on strike until I get 10. --

Mamma Mia

2008-10-11T20:40:00.011+11:00

Mum sent me some pics of her time in Nepal, back when she was a young ingenue in 1969 (I mean 1979). She was bussing from Calcutta to London. It took her two months, and she went through some of the places I've visited too, so will be interesting to compare pics. This was her itinerary:

Calcutta, Bodhgaya, Birganj, Khatmandu, Birganj, Patna, Benares, Khajuraho, Agra, Jaipur, Delhi, Amritsar, Lahore, Peshawar, Kabul, Kandahar, Herat, Mashed, Bodjnoord, Babolsar, Teheran, Isfahan, Shiraz, Isfahan, Teheran, Tabriz, Agri, Erzurum, Trabzon, Samsun, Ankara, Urgup, Istanbul, Alexandroupolis, Thessalonika, Delphi, Athens, Thessalonika, Nis, Belgrade, Zagreb, Venice, Innsbruck, Heidelberg, Brussels, London.

Here she is in Bhaktapur. If I'd had this pic when I was there I would have done the same pose:

But here's my pic, from the other side:

Lastly, a Taj Mahal pic from a few years ago. If I'd had this I would have repeated it also:

Festival disturbance

2008-09-24T23:03:00.008+10:00

Nepali festivals are kind of hard to get a grip on. This is festival season, and there are so many diverse castes and peoples that it's more a question of asking 'which festival is on today?' Hindu festivals run on a lunar calendar, so they change every year, and are usually marked by 'first full moon of the month' or some such description. In addition, Nepal has it's own calendar, and the newspapers never seem to report on upcoming events - it's always 'yesterday a meeting was held', 'yesterday this festival happened'.

I came back to Kathmandu from Bhaktapur and things were in full swing for the Hindu festival of Indra Jatra - important to the local Newars. This culminates in the full-scale ritual sacrifice of hundreds of animals in Durbar Square. Unfortunately (for the Newars, not the animals), the recently-elected communist government in Nepal had failed to allocate any money in the budget for the buying of these animals.

Nepali's might be all for a communist government (mostly because they might be a change from previous corrupt governments), but they aren't ready for a cultural revolution. The first night there were protests in the streets, people climbing up on the temple steps and hurling rocks at the riot police below.

Your intrepid reporter Alexander uknowingly slept through the whole thing. The next morning I knew something was up because of the still-smouldering fires in the streets, poles across the roads from an impromptu bandh (strike), and Durbar Square looked a mess:

That night was meant to be the culmination of the festival, and by dusk there were already groups of young Nepali guys with rocks and sticks heading towards Durbar Square. I decided that maybe I didn't want to be a war correspondent, and stayed in my hotel.

Bhaktapur

2008-09-20T01:33:00.074+10:00

Lovely little medieval town. Guy gave me a lift in from the bus stop for free. Costs 750 rupees to enter the old town, but got in at night and avoided check points for the next few days. Stayed at Shiva Guest House, looking straight out at Durbar Square. Woke to the sounds of pigeons cooing and bells.

View from my windows, literally. Pretty darn nice when lit up at night, too:

Other views of the main square:

On the way to Taumadi Square, chariot wheels and gear for some festival. Chariot festivals are huge in India and Nepal. The English word juggernaut comes from the Sri Jagganath Rath Yatra (basically Lord Jagganath's chariot trip), where the God is placed on a huge chariot and pulled through the crowds at Puri and other places. I was at Ahmedabad for this, there were maybe a million people in the streets? In Puri several people were killed in a stampede.

Small shrine lit by devotional candles, little boy watching:

I don't know what these are. Guardian statues? If they look kinda Chinese/Tibetan, it's because Bhaktapur was a major part of the old trade route to China from India.

Big guardian lions, I guess:

Kid riding an elephant at the base of Nyataoda Temple in Taumadi Square. The temple is huge and impressive in person, but doesn't photograph well - the overhanging arches cast shadows on most of the building.

In other news, I've got another man-cold (the worst kind), the Cats lost the grand final, and I missed my Bombay friend because I was sick in bed. Yay.

The 3 P's: Pashupatinath, Patan, and...

2008-09-20T01:33:00.070+10:00

Pos?

Not much to say about either I haven't said in my previous post. Here's some from Pashupatinath. The main temple, around the river, I avoided taking pics of:

Line of small temples occupied by a Sadhu:

I was trying to get a view through all the arches with the Sadhu at the end, but some kids kept getting in the way. Darn kids:

Some cheeky monkeys:

Patan's Durbar Square. The women are celebrating Teej: a Nepali festival where they dress up in red saris, alternately fast and feast, dance and sing and pray for their husbands long lives (or to get a husband). I asked my taxi driver what the wives do who may not want their husband to last that long, but it's a non issue. If you're a married woman in Nepal of a certain generation and status, then you're uneducated and have no way to support yourself. You want your husband to stick around and keep earning money as long as he can.

The museum in Durbar Square: fascinating and beautiful bronze statues:

Bronze breastplate:

Giant hands:

What to do in Kathmandu...

2008-09-20T01:33:00.067+10:00

Getting into Kathmandu, the bus pulled up near Thamel, the main tourist district. The first restaurant I went into turned out to be a ‘would you like a lady with your food’ kind of place. I’d been traveling for 24 hours. I was tired, sweaty and hungry. I didn’t want a lady with my food.

After getting showered and changed in a hotel, I went out to see if I could find a cheap meal. I accosted some Americans and asked if they knew anwhere. They were very concerned that I was standing in the middle of the road oblivious to traffic while they huddled on the sidewalk. They took me to a restaurant where I had the best meal in about 6 months, for 700 rupees (14 times the value of a cheap meal). But it was worth it.

Later that night, wandering through the streets of Thamel in the rain, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Café’s, restaurants, beautiful lighting and rickshaws, funky music coming out of bars and great food (it was a fabled food-stop for overlanders in the hippie days).

But Thamel is a time vortex – I spent two weeks here without realizing I hadn’t done anything. It also has a money reality distortion field – you don’t know how much you’re spending. On the other hand, it takes a while to figure out how to live cheaply in a new place.

The old city of Kathmandhu itself is lovely – quiet, temples everywhere, medieval, lots of little flats surrounding a central courtyard with, probably, some 10th Century stone inscription and a statue in it.

I went to Swayambhunath, a very nice temple complex surrounded by a small park. It used to be completely surrounded by farms, now the urban sprawl comes right up to it. No pics though.

I hung out at the Kaiser Mahal Library – a colonial relic with dark wood panelling, dead animals on the walls, and books about the British Empire that haven’t been updated since the 1940’s. Great stuff.

I met a tourist I’d last seen in Bundi – this is completely normal by now.

I went to Pashupatinath, the main Shiva temple in Nepal (Shiva is big here). It’s a big temple complex on the Bagmati River, where a lot of Nepali’s go to be cremated. I didn’t take photos of the temples by the river – there were a few cremations going on. The main temple is banned to non-Hindu’s – tourists used to stomp around in it in their shoes, use flash photography and generally create a fuss.

I went to Patan, Kathmandu’s old sister city that is now joined by the spreading cities. This is my recommendation for staying in Kathmandu - much quieter.

While getting a new Indian Visa I met two German Tibetologists who were going to a casino the next night. We got dressed up, enjoyed (great) free food and drink, watched a show and gambled away 1000 rupees with a bunch of drunk Indians (Nepali’s aren’t allowed in – a Maoist thing?).

Here are some pics.

Public baths in the old city, most of them still in use:

Kathmandu’s Durbar Square (every major city’s got one, I think it means Royal Square). The pagoda-style architecture was created in Nepal, exported to China then spread to South-East Asia:

My friend Narayan:

A guy meditating on some temple steps:

A closer look – his eyes are rolled up (Tantric?):

Kids fly kites all over Nepal, like in The Kite Runner. It’s a competitive sport though: the string is covered with abrasive material and the aim is to cut the other guy’s kite out of the sky:

Stone inscription, interesting bronze doors, little shrine, Shiva lingham and yoni inside. The old city is littered with monuments like these:

I was used to riding the waves of my Indian travel Karma, and it took me a while to get into the swing of things in Kathmandu.

Vedic Maths, Part 1

2008-09-19T19:11:00.029+10:00

Recently I read in a newspaper article how some Indian schools are reintroducing Vedic maths to the syllabus. The benifits apparently are lightning-fast calculations in your head, and when you get to a more advanced stage, ability to do things you can't do in Euclidic geometry, for example. Now this could sound all airy-fairy new-age-a-dairy, but these are the guys who gave us Arabic numerals, decimal notation, the number 0, sine and cosine, so I decided to check it out.

I went to a bookstore (excellent selection in Kathmandu) and bought myself an easy introduction to Vedic Maths and Max Mueller's India, What Can It Teach Us? (highly recommended, btw). The Vedic Maths book was printed by Motilal Banarsidass Publishing, the company my Mum went to work for in India originally. It turns out she went to do a translation of Max Mueller's book. Wierd.

Anyway, here's lesson one:

In Vedic maths all arithmetical operations are carried out from left to right. This makes it easier for getting ballpark figures sooner rather than later (you don't end up with the last digit first), and because we read numbers from left to right.

To multiply numbers by a single number:

237 x 2

2 by 2 is 4
2 by 3 is 6
2 by 7 is 14

In your head you remember the results as you go, so the answer is:

4, 46, 474 (carry the one).

Addition:

Again, from left to right:

187 + 444

5
5,12 = 62
62,11 = 631

That's it for today, go do some calculations in your head.

On the road to Kathmandu

2008-09-19T19:11:00.025+10:00

If you're thinking about getting to Kathmandu from Bihar (one of India's poorest states, and recently flooded to all heck), don't. The bus from Bodhgaya to Patna was ok. I found my way to the right station in Patna at about 9pm, ten minutes before the last bus for the border town of Raxaul left. Weaving my way through the buses, almost there, leaving India, the only white face.

"Hello, hello!" Damn, spotted.

He came over to me, eyes shining. "What is your name? Where are you from?" Another one of these conversations. After giving my details, including my job and how much I earn, I begged (literally) my leave.

"Please, spend time, this is special for me". Special for him but one of 100 conversations I could have like this every day. A quick chalo, a dissapointed Indian, and I'm on the bus. Twenty curious, funny and happy Nepali faces stare at me from the back, loaded with all their possessions. These are boys going back home after working in hotels and restaurants in India. They make room for me in the very back of the bus and the chattering starts again.

These guys were cute, friendly, ferocious and kinda small (but stocky). They reminded me of Ewoks (the Nepali Gurkha's won 13 VC's in battles I imagine as similar to the Battle for Endor's Moon). It was noticeable that the four Indians on the bus were the assholes. Two got into a fight over their seats (the Nepali heads all popped up to watch), the guy next to me had the corner seat but refused to move over more than an inch, and the driver was a speed-demon who didn't believe in slowing down for potholes.

Since the road to Raxaul is basically 12 hours of continuous pothole intespersed with bits of road, this meant everyone in the back occasionally flew up and slammed our heads into the roof. I had a spring sticking into my arse from the chair. Even with our shirts off we were drenched with sweat. I went from thinking to hoping I was about to die, to hoping I was. I'm not trawling for sympathy here, I just narrate in my head in bad situations. I got to Raxaul, one last baksheesh for the customs official to say goodbye to India, and it was a rickshaw ride into Nepal. I felt like Hemingway making it to Switzerland in A Farewell To Arms.

The customs guy. I had to wake him up:

Towards the border by cycle rickshaw: I had to hunt for the office to get a visa - the border is open with India. No one in Nepal has checked it since.

Across the border, things were immediately more relaxed. Nepal customs consisted of a few guys in a little bungalow, chatting. There were a few new hand gestures to decipher. People looked like they were from all the ethnicities of Asia - Polynesian, Chinese, Indian, Afghani. The Terai is the lowest and most fertile part of Nepal, and since malaria was eradicated recently it's been populated by different people from the hills, looking to make a living. Ethnic Indians who speak and identify as Nepali make up a large part of the original population of the Terai.

The landscape was the same as it had been for miles and miles since Bodhgaya - flat green rice fields. A few weeks later the Koshi river burst it's banks and flooded the whole area.

I got on a bus heading for Kathmandu, thinking I'll catch up on some sleep from my 16 hour journey on the way. Ahahahaha. There was a strike on the main road, so we decided to take the little-used (except, perhaps, by extreme motorcyclists) village roads. If the bus from Patna was a sweat box, this was a sauna on Mars. Half way through the Terai we were stopped at a village by a queue of buses and trucks. Village strike. With the Maoist recently in power people in Nepal have gone strike happy. We couldn't go back or forwards. Strikes in Nepal are much more calm and relaxed than they would be in India though - one guy complained that the villagers weren't offering enough food for those blocked in. I sympathised - it's hard to get good food at a strike these days. We eventually started moving and I fell asleep, looking forward to Kathmandu.

Four hours later I was back in Birganj, the Nepal side of Raxaul. The Lonely Planet accurately describes it as "unlovely".

Here's a storm front coming in:

A few minutes later, the road was a dustbowl:

I got a bus the next day, heading up the beautiful Tribhuvan Highway:

Birthday roundup

2008-09-19T19:11:00.024+10:00

Happy 20th, 18th and 40th birthdays to Frances, Isabel, and Mmm Pos.

And here's a pic a friend sent me from Goa

For my 100th post...

2008-09-07T20:24:00.004+10:00

I thought I'd get everyone involved again. So here is a two-part quiz:

Where was Will Smith Born?

Where did he spend most of his days?

The Last Post...

2008-08-22T07:36:00.002+10:00

So today is my 6th month anniversary of being out of Australia. Woo. I've blogged the hell out of the last two days, and with the exception of all the family stuff that happened in Gujarat, and some non-specific topics, I've got you up to the point I left India and arrived in Nepal. Since I've been a lazy bugger in Kathmandu, I don't have much to say about that yet.

Just a few little tidbits to tidy things up:

I've updated this post to include video.

In Rajasthan and Gujarat I've seen ads for this clothing company:

...as well as 'Bumchums'.

Here's a vid of some FILTH (Failed in London, Try Hong Kong) showing how to get the glycerine out of a light Indian beer:

And here's some recipes I've picked up but haven't tested:

Mango Lassi: 1/2 kg Alphonso mango pulp, 6 cups boiled and cooled water, 1 litre fresh curd made into plain lassi (I don't know how to do this yet), 1/2 cup sugar syrup, 1/2 cup red strawberry syrup. Blend. Serve chilled with rind of lemon

Parsi Chai: Tea, sugar, milk, mint leaves, lemongrass, boil together in some manner.

Seafood Masala Fry - Pepper, lime, lemon salt, red chilli powder, pinch of tumeric, one tbs. oil. Marinate for 2 hours. Fry, season with coriander.

Chicken Masala - Add a teaspoon butter, (mustard) oil, and pinch of cinnamon on low heat to pressure cooker. Add paste made of onions, garlic, tomatoes, black pepper, licoricy cardamons & green cardamons (there is a difference!), ginger, coconut powder, chilli powder, tumeric, sage powder, salt, and lemon and curd to taste. Cook with lid loose for 1/2 an hour slowly. Add chicken, close lid, and wait for 4 bells (this was how it was explained. I guess wait until it's cooked?). Season with coriander leaves a minute before finished cooking.

And finally, an affectionate picture from the last hotel I stayed at in India:

Mumbai

2008-08-22T03:44:00.013+10:00

Cleaning up all my India stuff, here's some stuff from waaaaay back in Mumbai.

From the Jogeshwari caves on the outskirts of the city, although the actual people living next to them were far more interesting.

Banganga, a 1,000 year old tank fed by a natural spring in the corner. It's right in the middle of ultra-modern and rich Malabar hill, and feels very ancient and strange. According to legend, Rama's brother Laxmi fired an arrow into the ground and water sprung out.

Here's the queue for the Siddhivanayak temple on the day you're meant to go there - I can't remember which it is now. Although some people walk from their homes barefoot to go there, it felt like more of a social outing, like church on sunday.

Mumbai is an exciting city and has a lot going on. It has some of the most expensive property in the world, and also has the largest slum in Asia. It's like New York and L.A. rolled into one - loud, brassy and exciting. It exerts a pull on the rest of the population, who flock to the city to follow the Indian dream, most of whom end up in the slums. Even the dogs in Mumbai are more wired than in the rest of the country. Like the rest of India, you get back what you put in. If you come looking to find a job, you'll find it. If you come looking to be disgusted at the poverty, you'll find that too. I came to be vaguely entertained, and that's exactly what I got.

Here's two Mumbai friends I randomly drove past in a taxi. In a city of 20 million people.

Agra: In which our hero makes it.

2008-08-22T03:24:00.002+10:00

Arriving by train into Agra, with the Red Fort on one side and a huge mosque on the other, is a strange experience. I was kind of in a daze the whole time I was there, so didn't take that many pics. I had to be on my game, too, after small-town Bundi - touts and commissions and tourist traps abound. I got shown round various sites:

The Baby Taj, as it's known:

The Itmad-ud-Duala tomb on the Yamuna River. That's my thumb in the corner:

To be honest, I wasn't that keen on seeing the Taj. I'd seen it when I was seven and remembered feeling a bit ho-hum about it. Everyone was talking about going to see the Taj... what for, to check it's there?

The whole day after Fatehpur Sikri I was working myself into a negative feeling about it: it was a big monument to waste, so much money and effort for a grandiose building, etc. Stumping along the path on the river bank opposite the Taj, I saw villagers and subsistence farmers living just as they would have when it was being built. This just got me even grumpier.

And then I came round the river bend and saw the Taj. And it is beautiful. And the idea behind it is beautiful - Shah Jahan built it as a tomb for his dead wife. It's a grand romantic grieving gesture, and it would be my number two location to bring a girl, after Udaipur.

So here it is...

Notice how it's on a raised platform? That's so it's background is always the sky. Shah Jahan was going to build another Taj as a tomb for himself on the other side of the river bank in black marble. Perhaps that's why his son Aurangzeb imprisoned him in his own Red Fort (at least he got a view of the Taj from the Fort). He's buried next to his wife in the mausoleum under the Taj.

While I was on the river bank a kid came up with a camel and asked if I'd like a picture on the camel. I misheard and thought he'd asked if I wanted to buy a camel. He said he would sell me the camel, but then he would have no other camel to earn money with. I asked the going rate on camels these days. He thought for a minute, and said "oh, about a million rupees". Smart kid. He also took this pic of me:

As it turned out it was a free day to go see the Taj, so I had no excuse to miss it (normally it's 700 rupees!). This meant the place was packed with Indians, which was great. You go in through this gate, and I have to admit when I glimpsed the white marble through the dorway I got a bit excited. Some American tourists behind me said "we made it," and I had to agree. If nothing else, I've seen the Taj.

Looking forward...

looking back:

To the side:

Down low... Muslim drainage.

The amazing thing about the white marble is that the building changes colour according to the light. When I went it was kind of an overcast day, but at one point the sun came out and the Taj glowed yellow, and everyone burst into applause. It's that kind of building.

Of minor interest, here's an interesting factoid from the Red Fort (if you can read it). My question is, how does one aggrieved person shake an 80 foot gold chain?

Fatehpur Sikri: Almost there...

2008-08-21T23:24:00.022+10:00

From Bundi I regretfully left to meet my date with levitation in Bodhgaya. It was a 24 hour journey by train, so I decided to break it up with a two day stop in Agra. Normally I travel 3rd class non-ac, which is a fun but exhausting way to travel - everyone wants to chat with you, and it's noisy and hard to sleep. So this time I decided to spend a little more and go air conditioned class - what a difference! It was like travelling in a plane - blankets, pillows, suspension on the carriage, quiet, minimal chatting.

I got to Agra and was picked up by Chintu's friend and fellow hotelier. Chintu had rung ahead and organised the whole thing for me ("he is my brother, look after him"). This was a good thing, because the whole time I was there was a tired blur for me.

First sight to see, because I'm a snob, was Fatehpur Sikri.

This was a city constructed by ~~Admiral~~ Emperor Akbar to be the capital of his Moghul Empire in the 16th century. It lasted about 10 years before it was abandoned due to water supply problems and the capital moved back to Agra. Salman Rushdie writes about it in his o.k. book The Enchantress of Florence.

The palace:

The Panch Mahal, because it has five stories, get it?

This is an interesting one. This is where Akbar would invite scholars and religious figures to debate eachother and himself. He was that kind of guy. He had a Hindu, Muslim and Christian wife. He invented a new religion which was a synthesis of all the bits of other religions he liked. I like to think of them up there with big poles, a la Gladiators:

Though perhaps without the bikinis.

By now I was feeling a little dissapointed. I mean the palace was nice and all, but not that amazing. Then I came through to the other side and saw the Jama Masjid. Moghul Emperors rarely disappoint.

A huge mosque complex, surrounded on all sides by gates:

The tomb of Salim Chisti, Akbar's patron saint.

Beautiful lattice-work inside the tomb, carved out of one piece of marble:

The main gate is about twice this size, by comparison.

The main gate. It's set on the top of a huge set of steps, which makes it even more impressive. I'm surprised this isn't more famous, it's so big you get vertigo just looking up at it. Of course, I couldn't get it all in my lens.

Part two in my 'happy animals near monuments' series. At the base of the gate, this was just absurd.

And here's another wacky pic - a nearby tower decorated with stone elephant tusks:

Bundi pt. 2 - A day out with Kukki

2008-08-21T03:48:00.007+10:00

You may be wondering what the hell I'd been doing up 'till this point - five months in India and only a few places checked off the list. Well, when you relax into a place after seeing the tourist sights things just seem to happen, and Bundi is a case in point. After being there for about 10 days I met Om Prakash - 'Kukki' to his friends - by chance.

No not that Cookie.

Kukki's a shop owner who has spent most of his time in the last 20 years scouring the hills and rivers around Bundi. Without funding or support he has discovered coins, stone tools, rock paintings and evidence of a previously unknown civilisation. I'm going to do a story about him. Here he is in front of some of his discoveries:

Prehistoric dice (die):

Moghul era coin:

One day he took me out to see his rock paintings. They are always near river areas:

The country around Bundi is a lot like the outback - desert and scrub with watering holes and canyons. Even the odd gum tree! The next day we started out early by ourselves to get to a canyon about four hours walk away. Later I realised we could have driven there, but that costs money and this way was more fun. It ended up too hot for my normal clothes so I draped a lunghi around my body and head and we went on our way. We walked out of the desert and came to the canyon, where, of course, there was a guy selling chai, snacks and cigarettes. You're never really alone in India. Two Irish guys had turned up on motorbikes. They looked at me like I was Lawrence of Arabia (I was also speaking bullshit Hindi to Kukki).

"Hi."
"G'day."
"Where did you come from?"
"Out in the desert."
"How long you been there?"
"Few days."
"What happened to your shirt?"
"Monkey stole it."

They were impressed - I love being Australian at people. The journey was worth it:

Half way down there is a cave hidden which Kukki had 'discovered'. Well, discovered for the wider world. Native people or 'adivasis' had been coming here for centuries (perhaps continuously) to make offererings and perform rites.

Paintings on the wall:

You may not be able to see in the last picture but that's a two headed giraffe. Giraffes, in India? While we were there some random guys rocked up for a smoke:

Continuing the smoking theme, when we climbed up to the top of the canyon this photogenic fellow rocked up out of the desert, got some bhang from the chaiwallah, put it in his pipe and smoked it.

After a long day it was down to the canyon for a swim. As ever in India, anywhere there's natural water there's a temple, complete with photogenic and well groomed priests. Not a bad life.

After my little walking-in-the-desert experiment I decided I needed some proper gear, so I got some pyjamas (loose white trousers) and this made up. Just call me Florence of Arabia.

Bundi

2008-08-21T00:43:00.067+10:00

After a few days at Chittorgarh I headed to Bundi. Like medieval Jodhpur only smaller, it has a lovely small-town atmosphere and so far has been only minimally effected by tourists. I came for a few days and ended up staying two weeks. The town has an 14th century fort and 17th century palace overlooking it (though what town in Rajasthan doesn't?) which, like Chittor, gets lit up at night. The real reason to come here though is the town and the people, but since it's hard to photograph friendliness you're stuck with palaces and forts.

Here's a view of the town from the palace.

And here's a night view from the top of my guest house:

The palace on the left and the fort on top of the hill by night. It looks much better in person, my camera just wasn't up to it:

Palace from the fort:

Close up view. No one lives there anymore, although the grounds are kept immaculately:

This was the 'ladies' area and the pool used to be filled with water. There's a mural on one of the walls of the Maharajah peeking at Queen bathing:

Queen's throne:

View of the festy tank:

The real drawcard of the palace are the 17th century paintings and murals done on the walls of various rooms. Anyone who's been to Mmm Pos' living room will know I felt at home here:

Here's Chintu and his wife. They live in a big haveli with Chintu's parents. A haveli is a big house in the old-fashioned sense of the word, in that its upkeep is a full time job. The style in Bundi is similar to Jodhpur - kind of like stone houses you'd imagine in a Greek village, almost like a mini-castle. Lots of rooms (with low doors - reasons are either to show respect when entering a room or so the women can chop the heads off entering theives while the men are away, depending). The haveli's have various little courtyards, rooms added on, rooftop areas, sometimes their own well. The families that live in these houses are the upper-class, usually Brahmins or religious conservatives.

When a woman marries into one of these families, she goes to that house. When Chintu's wife secretly asked me to go to the store and buy some special kind of soap, I realised she couldn't actually go out of the house. But at the same time, she's respected and honoured within the house. I asked if she liked what she was doing (basically running the guesthouse, cooking and cleaning), and she honestly did. So, different cultures. They were both very nice to me. The rooftop restaurant had lovely views, the mother served me lovely food Chintu adopted me as a brother and tought me some Hindi.

Here's some toumists I met. The guy on the right lives in Spain, near the running of the bulls. I got an invitation!

Another one of my 'through the doorway' pics:

One day while walking through the market I met a magician who made my watch stop by touching it, then made matches dance on his hand. I had to resort to the internet to figure out how. By the end of my stay it would take me an hour or so to get to the end of the street, having drunk about 10 cups of chai.

Here's some sort of concert for just women (though men were playing the instruments). I sat in for a while, every now and then one of them would get up and dance. The mic got handed around and everyone took their turn to sing. Turn your head to the side.

On my last day I went for a walk in the woods and found these temples/ruins, just sitting abandoned:

And here's a monkey pondering. Black-faced ones are ok, brown ones are mean. Early one morning I went for a walk through the town and a group of these were making their way across the rooftops and verandahs to wherever they go for the day. On their way they were pulling all the washing down, shorting out power lines, knocking over pot plants, generally being cheeky.

There was a goat who lives on an overhanging roof above a shop, and each monkey would swing down and smack it on the arse as it went by.

Chittorgarh

2008-08-20T22:34:00.016+10:00

My destination after Ahmedabad was Chittorgarh, in Rajasthan (again).

The train ride from Ahmedabad to Chittor went through some beautiful country. The only way to explore it would be on foot, some day. Indian countryside is fertile and populated, dotted with little villages and farms.

Chittor is a sleepy little country town with , for a change, a healthy smell of cow rather than people poo. The reason to come here is the huge 8th century fort on the hill next to the new city. It's really a pleasure palace (but not domed) that rambles along for four kilometres, 700 acres in total.

(anyone know how to make this pic clickable without shrinking it like it is now?)

Inside there are temple complexes, palaces, lakes, a deerpark, immaculately kept gardens, wilderness areas, wells, farms and villages. It took me half a day to walk around half of it.

Part one of my 'happy animals near monuments' series:

As far as romantic Rajasthan stories goes, Chittorgarh's is a doozy. Three times - in the 14th century by Ala-ud-din, in the 16th by Bahadur Shah, then in the 16th by Akbar, the town was attacked by overwhelming numbers. The people could have safely stayed in the fort, but because they were Rajputs the men rode out to charge the enemy and be put to the sword, and the women comitted jauhar. It's estimated 32,000 men and 13,000 women died under Bahadur Shah alone.

Benny wisely suggested I should charge the fort, confident that the Chittorgahns would come out and fight.

Sitting in a rooftop cafe with the fort lit up at night is right up there in romantic Indian places to go.

Birthday Rollcall

2008-08-20T22:31:00.003+10:00

While I was taking a blogging leave of absence I missed two birthdays:

So happy 6th and 12th birthdays to my cousins Joanna and Pouroushasp. Joanna, I think I can see the tiger's eyes burning bright.

Keating in fine form

2008-08-20T20:39:00.011+10:00

I feel sorry for those who missed out on the Keating era. Here's some highlights from his book launch:

He anticipated Mr Costello's memoir would be "as dull as he is". "I mean, in Labor Party terms, I hope he does [become Opposition leader] because it makes it a better pitch for us," Mr Keating said yesterday. "But in national terms to have such a nong - and he is, in policy terms, he is a mouse - back, just speaks volumes about the Liberal Party."

He did not refrain from criticising the federal opposition, saying former treasurer Peter Costello's nickname used to be "thallium ... a slow-acting dope''. It would suit Labor for Mr Costello to become the next Liberal leader because he was a "low-flying person'', Mr Keating said.

Mr Keating declared that when he was in charge, he always had a clear message to take to the public. This had not continued with the "post-me Labor party''.

To clarify, Keating called the Labor party since 1996 "post-me"! Awesome!

His advice to Mr Rudd was to craft a message around the need to boost productivity, cement Australia's position in Asia, and become a republic.

Sounds sensible enough, but he just can't help himself...

"Also to say goodbye to QE2,'' he added.

Cat Post no. 2: Cats in the news

2008-08-20T19:41:00.007+10:00

Today, not one, but two cats in the news (they're different I swear!):

I hear tell that Goan Kitten was thinking of emigrating to Australia in response to this news. Perhaps now he'll think again.

Ahmedabad

2008-08-20T18:11:00.033+10:00

Backblogging again.

After I extricated myself from my family in Surat (who I will finish blogging about one day), I headed up to Ahmedabad to see the sights. Ahmedabad is a much cooler city than it's credited for, in Bombay at least. There's no Bollywood, but there are clean streets, an ultra-modern area of the city (also in Surat - at night the skyline could be mistaken for New York), no tourists (I didn't see a white person the whole time I was in Gujarat), friendly, cool, educated and industrious people, great food and an interesting and beautiful history of Muslim architecture.

All in all, Gujarat is a great place to travel in - relatively undiscovered, nice cities, beautiful countryside. Ignore the recent bombings, as you would those in New York or London. Here's a series of pictures of mosques in Ahmedabad, from the 15th century onwards I think.

Frieze from the Sidi Said Mosque (take note mum):

The Teen Darwaza gate, from the wall that used to surround the city:

The Jama Masjid. You enter this through a hole in the wall in a busy market, and come into the biggest constructed open space without people I've seen in India:

The mosque and palace complex at Sarkhej Roja (pronounce your h's or your rickshaw driver won't know where to go!):

Incidentally these carved friezes serve a few purposes. They let in light and a breeze, but no direct sunlight, keeping the inside cool. Plus they look pretty. In a few palaces in Rajasthan, and also some in Gujarat, the royal meeting rooms had intricate panels like this behind which the ladies of the court would sit and keep informed.

The Dada Hari Wav (well). Intricately carved, all five stories of it.

At the bottom it was pitch black. By the light of my mobile phone I saw a carving and snapped it, bingo!

Random collection of carved pillars. They're like this all the way up, damn the lack of zoom on my camera:

And in case you think it's all mosques, here's where I bought some delicious sweets:

And here's an elephant:

I'm so tired...

2008-08-20T16:54:00.013+10:00

Well, the answer was:

3. Run screaming away from the heat, lack of cigarettes and boredom around day 3

Sitting around doing nothing all day is hard, despite my extensive experience.

Full credit to the levitators, what I did was very interesting though and I think it would have been a life-changing experience if I could have stuck it. Next time, meditation course, next time. One delight was walking around the grounds, which were full of enough frogs to fill every boy's terrarium dreams.

Bodhgaya was lovely. This is where the Buddha gained enlightenment and there is a good mix of people - nearly every Buddhist country has a temple here. Here's the Tibetan one, music by little Tibetans in training:

There are Buddhist tourists from Sri Lanka and East Asia, Tibetans in exile who come from Nepal and the mountains of northern India during the cool season, and western tourists who do the same. Because of it being off-season, or the general laid-back 'spiritual' atmosphere of the place, it's a lovely little town. There is some hassle but not much and western tourists aren't the main focus for Indians on the make. Things are kind of set up to have a nice and/or meditative time.

Here's the temple built where the Buddha gained enlightenment, originally marked by a pillar by Ashoka in 250BC, a temple built in 600AD, destroyed in the 13th century and rebuilt in the 19th:

Here's the bodhi tree (ficus religiosa) under which he sat. Well, not the original one. Ashoka had a branch sent to Sri Lanka and shortly after his wife destroyed the tree. The current tree was replanted from the Sri Lankan off-shoot.

Here's a guy I found playing cricket who I'd last met on the river bank opposite the Taj. I told him I'd see him later!

Here's a good friend in Bodhgaya who showed me around everywhere. The countryside is like this, minus the trees and hills, all the way up to the mountains of Nepal. Ho hum.

What's so funny 'bout peace love and understanding? Part 2, or: From bombs and bhang to mountains and maoists.

2008-07-31T14:56:00.007+10:00

Hi all. I have a series of blog posts lined up, it's just been a while since I could get to a computer that could upload photos, and it took me a while to get over the family writing hump (I'll get to it).

Briefly, I've been in Ahmedabad (way before the blasts), Chittorgarh, Bundi, Agra and now Bodhgaya. I've decided to do like the Beatles and do a 10 day meditation course. Quick quiz, will Alex:

Complete the 10 day course and become enlightened?
Complete the 10 day course and remain exactly the same?
Run screaming away from the heat, lack of cigarettes and boredom around day 3?

As John says, tomorrow only knows, or something like that.

After the levitating, I'm going to head up to Kathmandu in Nepal and stick around until I get a new Indian visa, then head back down to Varanasi. But for the next 10 days I will be in seclusion. In the west wing.

If I'm not mistaken,

2008-07-27T23:17:00.004+10:00

today is Anna's 21st birthday. Today, you can:

- Drive a car
- Drink
- Get the keys to the house
- Vote

Or some of these things, I'm pretty sure. Catch-up blogging will start shortly.

Adventures with my Cousins in Gujarat; or… how my iPod died and I didn’t even notice, Part the First.

2008-07-10T21:59:00.030+10:00

Dramatis Personae:

In the beginning there were three brothers: Hormasji, Pestonji and Dinshawji. Their great-great-grandfather Ashaji had come to Zab village from Surat and made a living selling alcohol. He was the first Zabvala. He was poor, but by the time of the brothers they had become wealthy landowners and farmers. They were granted 11 villages tax free by the British. When the brothers were in school they were sick of having waiting till last to be called, so they changed their name (and the village’s) from Zab to Jhab:

Pestonji moved to Surat and was Principal of the I.P. Mission School there. His children settled in Bombay.

Dinshawji stayed in Jhab and had six children. One of them, Nariman, had a grandson named Hoshang. I met him and his family in Bombay earlier.

Another of Dinshawji’s sons, Darabshah, had the sons Erachshah and Dinshawji. They still live in the family house at Jhab:

Dinshawji’s daughter Diana married Pervez Cooper and they live in Surat with their two children, Pouroush and Tinaz:

And with their cousin, Erachshah’s daughter Kashmira:

The oldest of the brothers, Hormasji, went to Bombay and had four children. One of his sons, Shavaksha, was a trade union leader and was imprisoned by the British for four years during the Meerut Conspiracy Case. He was eventually released without being convicted. Here is a photo of him from an orphanage near Jhab where he donated a library:

Shavaksha had eight children, including Cyrus Jhabvala. Cyrus married Ruth Prawer and had three children. He also had me.

No one quite knows what happened to the Hormasji line of the family. They are all, as Erakshaw says, half-cracked. Until one day I turned up on the train...

Happy birthday to the twins for Sunday.

2008-07-10T21:55:00.002+10:00

I'm Alive!

2008-06-26T21:54:00.002+10:00

With much to tell, as soon as I get some sleep. That's all for now.

Say Goodbye to the Jhabvalas

2008-06-10T19:21:00.004+10:00

...for now.

That's Hoshang on the right, Deenaz in the middle and Rayo on the left. He's going to America to study soon.

They were very nice to me while I was in Bombay and invited me up to dinner a lot and also to go swimming, dancing etc... I'll see them pretty soon though I hope. I think if Deenaz has her way Chessie and Julia could be very happy little girls (though not on elephants).

Also said goodbye to Auri and all the various friends I met in Mumbai :(

That was that, now Gujurat.

Someday, Bombay.

2008-06-10T19:10:00.004+10:00

Well the monsoon has come to Mumbai and it's time to leave. I'm heading up to Gujurat for various reasons to be blogged about later, then on through Rajasthan (again) to Delhi. I'll be back, Mumbai, I'll be back...

Here are some last random pics of Bombay.

Awesome motorbike, well worth zooming in on.

Peter Pan and Wendy, as we call them, local ashram refugees from the rains.

Just sweeping in the rain... what a wonderful feeling... If you had 4 months of torrential rain you wouldn't care if you got wet either.

When the rain comes down...

2008-06-04T01:02:00.003+10:00

It just started raining in Mumbai. Pics to come.

"Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the streets." - Travis Bickle

Incidentally, Leigh and I once caught a taxi in Sydney and the guy said pretty much the same thing.

People Carrying Things On Their Heads, ep. 1

2008-06-02T21:37:00.004+10:00

As promised.

Having just seen the final in a seedy, raucus pub, I can only say...

2008-06-02T04:52:00.007+10:00

Yeahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!

(F yeah for non family members).

We never would have lost the Ashes if Warnie was captain.

Added: This pub (Gokuls):

Someone kept doing the Aussie Aussie Aussie chant but didn't know exactly how it went, so it would go:

Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi Oi Oi

Small General Update

2008-06-01T16:59:00.007+10:00

No, not a little Army man called Update.

Nice photo of a guy selling roasted nuts etc... a pretty common snack sight in Mumbai. They have a little bowl full of embers that they place on top of the nuts to slowly roast them.

P.E.R. update: The current rate for Rupees to Aussie Dollars is 4:1, as in, for a $10 item in Australia you should pay 40 rupees in India. However, for any item that is intrinsically foreign or not common-place (such as toilet paper, beer, dvd's) the rate goes up to 10:1.

I Fought the Law, and the Law Won.

2008-06-01T16:49:00.005+10:00

The other day some friends and I decided to go swimming in the Taj (blogged about here and here) pool. I had it on good advice that it was easy-ish to do - my Mum had told me that she used to dress up as a guest and go do it, and one of the people I went with had done it a few times before. Anyway, on the way out we got asked for our room number... ruh roh.

Here's what we ended up with:

That's a thousand rupees each (only $25 au, but enough to eat for a week cheaply). Hmpph, never going back there again.

The policeman (yes policeman) who came took a liking to me though, he gave me his number in case I ever get into any trouble. Who says every cloud doesn't have a silver lining, every rose doesn't have it's thorn etc...

Indian Idol, final episode

2008-06-01T16:36:00.011+10:00

Due to popular demand, this will be the last episode of Indian Idol. Don't forget to vote.

Contestant One, another tree shrine:

Contestant Two, an entry in the sub-category "idol's with people looking at them strangely"

Contestant Three, a nice Sai Baba shrine that glows lovely-ly in the dark.

Next week, "People Carrying Things on Their Heads".

Meet Auri...

2008-05-29T03:25:00.006+10:00

She's an old friend I made on a message board I used to post on when I was around 17. Bet none of you guys knew that, right?

Anyway, she's from Bombay, but studies in Canada and recently came back for a holiday. She took me to an awesome restaurant and bar the other night. It's nice having people on the 'inside'.

She likes the Beatles, cricketers, good food, books and music. Pretty cool.

The picture is totally stolen from Facebook.

And no my little cousins, I'm not marrying her.

Half sister

2008-05-27T22:32:00.002+10:00

Go to second page.

Happy Birthday James

2008-05-24T04:11:00.004+10:00

Tomorrow is my not-so-little cousin James' 14th birthday. Well done, James!

So, what's Alex been up to?

2008-05-21T02:00:00.020+10:00

Well, various things. Time for a photo-dump and an update.

Sitting in an internet cafe I met an Australian named Bruce (easy to remember).

He's doing an oral history research project in Mumbai. Cause I'm starting to get a sense of things, I asked if it was about the Parsis. Bingo. Well, actually the Irani's, who came more recently from started up cafes, bars etc with a little help from the Parsis.

Bruce met a lovely guy named Pheroze who runs a bar, who offered him his spare apartment while he was staying. Since he was leaving the next day, he invited me around for a drink with Pheroze and his bawa-ji friend, Dara. Sure enough, I'm offered the apartment for as long as I want. And Dara knows Hoshan and his wife.

Dara:

A seedy looking Pheroze in an amazingly empty, modern and clean tunnel complex near his apartment:

Secret Parsi ritual taking place in the temple next door. Shhh, you're not allowed in!

Unfortunately, after a few days the building manager complained and I had to skip the place to let things cool down. Oh well, a few days rent free courtesy of the kindness of strangers.

Hmm what else? Today I went to an audition for a daily tv show here, all about the independence movement circa 1942. I was to play the Lieutenant General's son, ie: evil Britisher. The pay would've be great even by Australian standards. Anyway, I got to the moment before the audition before I remembered that I CAN'T ACT AND IN FACT ACTING TERRIFIES ME. I bombed badly and left in disgrace. Production company, if you're reading this, I'm sorry (and female producer, give me a call).

Depending on a few factors, I could possibly get a follow-up story in the Mumbai Mirror, this time written by myself and for actual money!

I got some 'visiting cards' as they're called here printed up cheaply, took the pic in Goa:

TV news is eplilepsy-inducing, any actual footage competes with at least three news-bars:

I had my first real India train experience - I was kind of dissapointed at not being crushed at first, but sure enough, being on this train meant I overshot my destination by three stations, it was just impossible to get out.

For contrast:

I hurt my foot playing cricket, here's a pic of me in my hotel room in one of those shirts my mum wanted me to get, plus a boomerang necklace (to remind me to go home), and a stick. It's as touristy as I get.

How did I hurt my foot? By making the mistake of mentioning I was Australian in the street. Instant cricket game, good spirited but everyone wanting to get me out. The log we were using as the stumps fell on my toe. Everyone plays or is obsessed with cricket here, here are some street kids playing with a shuttlecock. Normal begging was suspended while I joined in, as soon as the game was over it resumed.

It took me a minute to work out what was going on here. That bike wasn't going anywhere!

Pretty flower.

I chased down a group called the Siddis, Africans who have been in west India for ages and still have similar drumming rituals. Either everyday is party day for the Siddis, or I got there for some festival. One of about 20 drumming troupes that came by the mosque:

Crazy African/Indian drums:

Mmm festival food:

That's it for now, tomorrow an old friend arrives to show me round.

The next episode of Indian Idol will be the last, cancelled due to lack of interest. It will be replaced by a series I call "people carrying things on their heads".

Sorry guys...

2008-05-17T21:12:00.001+10:00

But I've been busier than BAS week.

I'm getting callous...

2008-05-13T19:58:00.006+10:00

Bombay Bingo

Shoe Cleaning	Massage	Bed Bugs	Tripping Tourist
What’s your name, what country?	First customer of the day	Postcards	Bird Poop
Taxi?	Want to be in Bollywood?	Person missing limb asks for money/food	Drums
Smoke? Coffeeshop? Grass?	Carpets? Shawls? Pashmina?	Something in your ear	Hello? Hello? Kids ask for food/water

Rules:

Just walk around Colaba until you get a complete bingo (four

horizontal or vertical squares). For extra difficulty, a bingo

may not be complete without an offer to change money.

The winner must yell “Bombay Bingo!”

Remember, this game can only be played in Colaba. If you don’t

want these hassles, go out and see some of the rest of the city!

Alex

2008-05-13T17:59:00.002+10:00

on the case.

Edit: This was a link to a news story that's been taken down, maybe one day I'll upload a PDF of it here.

Happy Mothers Day to my mum

2008-05-12T03:50:00.002+10:00

and to all mums out there. Which one are you?

Dhobi Ghat

2008-05-11T04:02:00.003+10:00

Where all Mumbai's washing gets done. By hand.

For my birthday...

2008-05-11T03:45:00.006+10:00

My mum kindly put me up in the Taj. It's the biggest hotel in..., well I blogged about it here so you can read the link.

The Salvation Army is right next door, the cheapest and the most expensive place to stay next to each other. You can look out from the broken windows in the shower in the Salvo's and see people moving in air conditioned luxury in the Taj.

Today*, I was one of them.

Of course, I couldn't celebrate alone, so I had some friends over.

Here's a before shot of the room.

I should have taken an after shot as it was a mess. It was truly a pleasure rolling around that bed, giving them all our fleas and bed bugs, before going down to wash our scabs and bites in their pool.

There was a pretty good view too.

Because it was my birthday, the hotel sent up a chocolate cake and a bunch of roses, how nice. It was a wierd experience sleeping and having to open the balcony door to let some heat in.

Unfortunately being May Day and also Maharashtra Day, the state was dry. No alcohol anywhere, even the guys selling drugs on the street looked offended when we asked. So, we ended up drinking in a bar at the Taj. Expensive, but nice. Could someone remind me to stock up if I'm here next year?

Of course we stripped the room bare, so now people from the Salvo's are swanning into the Taj in their fluffy white dressing gown and slippers, like a low-rent Hugh Hefner, trying to get free access to the pool.

The next day was a nice reality check though, the Salvo's is kind of like the Winter Palace in mood and theme. Here's what I woke up to:

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, it was a good one.

*Honesty note: 'Today' might not actually be 'today'.

Cat Post

2008-05-11T03:40:00.006+10:00

Most people here would know I like cats. I'm not a dog person. Here's the first in a series of cat posts.

From the Jehangir Art Gallery:

From a nice leafy area in Colaba. Joanna, I think I found the tigers eyes burning bright!

Indian Idol, episode 2

2008-05-11T03:23:00.006+10:00

Tonight we have four contestants, so lets get straight into them. First up, a random idol from I don't know where:

Pretty nice huh? Next, we have an extended shrine from the CST train station in down town Mumbai:

In the financial district, a nice little idol on a tree. Notice the guy noticing the idol for the first time. "Why would he take a photo of that?"

Last up, a nice little idol from next to a barbershop. Don't forget to vote for your favourite now!

Meet Mr. Jhabvala...

2008-05-01T04:32:00.006+10:00

On a lark, I looked up Jhabvala in the Bombay phone book. I thought there would be a few, but there were only two numbers, one with a different spelling. So after a while I got the mobile phone number of one Mr. Hoshan Jhabvala.

"Hello?" he said in an accent disturbingly like my father's.

"Hi, I'm an Australian travelling in India at the moment, I'm in Bombay and I'm a Jhabvala too. I was wondering if you'd like to meet?"

"You're a Jhabvala?"

"Yes. I saw your number in the phone book."

"Of course. How long are you in Bombay for?"

"I'm not sure, no plans."

"What is your father's name?"

"Cyrus."

"Ok, I'm busy right now, but let me call you back in an hour and you can come to my house tomorrow if you like."

"Sure, bye."

So the next day I'm on the train up to Bandra, a classier area of town. It turns out that Hoshan is my cousin (not sure to what degree, our great grandfathers were brothers. Mum, you can work that out). Also, that anywhere in the world you find a Jhabvala we're going to be related. The name comes from a family who were land-owners in the village of Jhab, in Gujarat. Yes, there is a place called Jhab. He showed me photos of the house, where there's still a Jhabvala living. It's 6 hours drive away but I might pay a visit to the ancestral home.

I got a family tree and some history and a culture and religious lesson from Hoshan and his wife, it was all very strange and interesting. They have a 19 year old boy who I didn't meet.

Incidentally, Hoshan has an impeccable collection of 400 or so blues, jazz and soul cd's, arranged in an arcane system known only to him, housed in a large bookshelf type thing. Sound familiar?

Here's a pic of their door-plate:

Here's me and Hoshan (sorry Gran, Hoshan and I). We've got some facial hair going on:

Also, it's pronounced Jhabwala.

View from the gardens above Chowpatty Beach

2008-05-01T04:28:00.002+10:00

Chowpatty Beach is like an every-night circus, with rides, food etc. Just don't go for a swim.

Today I went to a Jewish cemetary,

2008-05-01T04:15:00.006+10:00

just because I could. The Jews have been here for over 2,000 years (give or take some exaggeration). The other night I ended up celebrating Pesach (Passover) in a synagogue. I tried to take my Mumbai skull-cap with me as a souvenir, but no go. The Brooklyn Jew who brought me along (the Israeli army type Jew as opposed to my Woody Allen type Jew) explained that the whole religion was based on the same thing as Jewish mothers - never letting you forget what happened 3,000 years ago. But hey, I'm happy they're not Egyptian slaves any more (or Babylonian ones, thanks to the Parsis).

On the way into the cemetary was an Indian guy who, unexpectedly, asked if I was Jewish in a you-can't-get-in-here-if-you're-not tone. Sure I was. After a while enjoying the serenity he came up to me with a book of all the people buried there, and asked me who I was there to see. Thinking quick, I said my grandfather. He died in 1975 (a safe bet, some of the graves looked pretty new). We went through the book and I found Menach Mordechai, d. 1975. After a while we found his grave and I looked suitably sad and wistful, while hoping Mordechai appreciated the humour of the situation. Then he offered to clean the grave for 500 rupees.

Obligatory black and white cemetary shot:

Menach Mordechai, may he rest in peace:

Complete update on my foot.

2008-05-01T03:46:00.012+10:00

So here's the gruesome spectacle of bed bug bites getting infected, thanks Salvation Army! I was kind of a local celebrity for a while there. I ended up going to a hospital to get it drained (with a needle, not leeches), they're doing tests. No pain though.

Here's after they drained it:

Newsflash!

2008-04-24T22:55:00.006+10:00

Tomorrow's episode of Indian Idol may or may not be crashed by ~~Cory~~ He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, infamous party pest.

Today I went to the Taj...

2008-04-24T22:44:00.003+10:00

No not the Taj Mahal, the Taj Mahal Hotel. It was built by a Parsi after he was refused entry to the previous most luxurious hotel in Bombay for being a 'native'. It is insanely opulent. I was eyeing out the toilets, thinking that a family of 20 could happily live in there. A man turned the tap on for me, squirted some soap into my hands, and gave me a towel when I'd finished washing my hands. There's a pool. I ordered an expresso, a chocolate brownie with a scoop of ice cream, and a bottle of mineral water. It came to 900 rupees (only $27, but I could eat for 10 days on that). It's one of those places, like the slums, that you just don't take pictures of while you're there. Maybe cause it's uncool, maybe cause it's more of a state-of-mind experience.

Some random pics taken in Mumbai...

2008-04-24T22:17:00.011+10:00

Mmm 10 rupees (30c) for a plate of fruit, artfully crafted:

The Bombay Stock Exchange, where 3/4 the money in India is made. Note the red swastika on the white shade sculpture thingy.

Random mosque, taken from a taxi:

Another cricket shot on the Oval Maidan:

Mutated horns on a buffalo. Most of the 'beef' is from buffalo, they're kept in huge farms in the city and only used for meat once they die naturally. So now I'm a vegetarian.

Re: the wheelbarrow discussion earlier. Note this is a very light load, this guy was running down the street. I've seen them piled as high as a bus with goods.

A picture of a picture of an awesome float at a festival, wish I'd been there. Ganesha King Kong's friend!

My Van Gogh puzzle picture, taken in the Hanging Gardens. It's a happy little water-spout:

I'm trying to find my father's birth certificate

2008-04-24T22:14:00.002+10:00

I ended up in this office, one in a whole building exactly the same. They said it could take up to a month, and I believe it.

It kind of reminds me of the filing system at my old work. Speaking of work, looks like they might have found a replacement:

Answer to 'yesterday's' quiz.

2008-04-24T22:09:00.003+10:00

Yes, it was the vegemite. I wasn't even craving it that much until I saw it. I took it back to the hostel and gave everyone a try, the consensus was of course that it was disgusting. I left it in the common room and the next day it was gone! I thought if anything would be safe it would be that. Who would steal an Australian's vegemite? :(

While on the subject of national pride, here's a tattoo (de rigeur for backpackers) on my dorm-mate's back. Can you see what's wrong with it (I guess if he flexes his muscles he can simulate continental drift!)?

Does this look infected? Pt 2

2008-04-24T22:06:00.007+10:00

Some more pics to track the progress of the disease.

Notice how the two middle blisters have joined up here. Any guesses on whether the third will join up too?

Don't mean to offend you, but...

2008-04-24T14:37:00.000+10:00

Who are you Karin and Earl?

Does this look infected?

2008-04-23T16:39:00.006+10:00

Staying at the Salvation Army can be fun, but you do invite all sorts of the wildlife into your bed (yes I'm on antibiotics).

Indian Idol, episode 1

2008-04-21T16:55:00.010+10:00

Time for a new series called Indian Idol. Every now and then I will show a new Indian Idol, and at the end you get to vote for the best one.

First off, a snazzy little number that gave me the idea in a chemist. I was his first sale of the day, he took my money and kind of offered it in thanks to the Idol.

Next up, a lovely little shrine in a laundromat (well, doorway in an alley) that wanted twice as much money than they should have ("no sir, this is special wash").

To round off this episode and to give you some ideas for your own idol, this was on display in a taxi this morning. Note the slightly wilted flower.

See you all next time!

Quiz! Quiz!

2008-04-21T16:52:00.005+10:00

This is a little shop in Crawford Market. Can you see I was buying here?

Answer tomorrow.

Cricket in India

2008-04-21T16:44:00.007+10:00

Just when you think you get a handle on Indians and start to enjoy yourself, they throw something else in your face.

I paid 500 rupees for a seat at the match between the Mumbai Indians and the Bangalore Royal Challengers. My mistake was getting to Wank-a-day stadium 1/2 an hour before the match. Somehow about 1000 too many tickets were sold for the stand I was in. I had a seat number but there were no numbers on the benches. People who came late or couldn't get a seat were crammed into the aisles, moshpit style. Within five minutes my clothes were wet with sweat. I couldn't move at all. Outside the crowd somewhere, a cricket match was going on. My glasses started fogging up.

At half time I went to a drinks stand. This was the first time in a while I felt, well, superior. There were about 10 people in 'queue' at any one time, all desperately pushing and shoving to hold out their money to the drinks guy, yelling out "boss, boss" and making a kissy noise with their lips which I think is a call for attention in India. They'd come out soaked, sweaty, sore and tired.

Cricket in India is insane, people are over the top, go see a match but get there early.

Tips on haggling in India No. 2

2008-04-21T16:36:00.006+10:00

Sometimes bargaining can be fun. As long as you know what something should cost, and you're in the mood for it, it's a nice little game to respectfully play with the seller. It's a game, and there are rules, and you get better and enjoy it more as you go along. Basically, they start too high, you start too low, then you move towards what it should be. Like cricket, this can be over quickly or in 5 days. I'm getting pretty good at the short version of the game, but it takes time to build up stamina for a test match.

Mind you, I'm feeling prety good about myself for getting a good price for a shirt on the street without walking away hating myself or the seller, but then I left it in a cab. But I still feel good.

Still no time to post, but...

2008-04-20T17:35:00.001+10:00

Keep an eye out for me at the cricket tonight, I'll be in the Tendulkar stand, not sure what I'll be wearing (maybe an Aussie shirt if I can get one?)

A little birdy tells me that today is Julia's birthday

2008-04-19T17:13:00.003+10:00

So happy birthday Julia, congrats on making to being a teenager. Don't grow up too fast.

Some more pics of Gosh...

2008-04-15T17:55:00.008+10:00

(courtesy of Michael the German Photographer)

Family resemblance:

At one with the world, or constipated?

Update to the Jodhpur march post...

2008-04-15T16:52:00.005+10:00

to be found here. I finally uploaded the movies.

Just a thought...

2008-04-15T14:46:00.006+10:00

Wouldn't it make more sense to have the wheel of the wheelbarrow directly under the tray, rather than at the end where it makes it harder to lift?

Also, did you know that Britain's WWII debt to the US was only fully repaid in 2006?

What's so funny 'bout peace love and understanding?

2008-04-15T14:34:00.011+10:00

(rant)

Travelling around, you hear whispers of places to go from slightly dubious hippy types. "You must go to Hampi/Pushkar man, it's beautiful and untouched and so chilled".

I of course, avoid these places like the plague. If you think the average hippy at home is smug, wait till you meet the hippy in India. They're almost unbearable.

(/rant)

Love and Marriage

2008-04-15T14:29:00.005+10:00

So in India, an arranged marriage works like this. Your parents will go back to your home town to find parents of girls of the same caste (and let's not get too snooty about this, substitute caste for class and we're pretty similar). If both sets of parents agree, a meeting is organised where the man and woman get to go off and have a bit of a chat for 10 minutes or so. You don't discuss personal matters, just favourite movies, books etc... (and let's not get too snooty about this, either, how deep is the average conversation in a bar?)

If both partners like the other, the wedding is on. If one of them doesn't like the other, they tell their parents and it's off. Women get as much of a say as men in this. The person who told me this went through 20 prospective partners before finding the one he married (who is very nice). Indian marriages, on the whole, work. Perhaps because they're relieved of the burden of being what they call 'love matches'.

At least, this is how it was described to me by a moderately wealthy and higher caste jewellery store owner.

Trains, Planes and Automobiles

2008-04-15T14:26:00.007+10:00

(Stock photo. I haven't seen this happen on a train yet)

It's impossible to go hungry or thirsty in India, as long as you have money I guess. Even on trains, at every stop people will come on selling tidbits, full meals, water, chai, whatever.

Travelling on trains is also a great way to meet people. People are curious about what you do at home, why you're here, are you married, etc... and will happily share bits of their lives.

I met an Interpol agent with some bullet wounds, a guy who invited me to stay with his family in Tamil Nadu, and another guy that shared with me the details of his arranged marriage.

Now read on...

They're drilling for a mythical river...

2008-04-15T01:01:00.002+10:00

in Haryana.

Bombay Calling...

2008-04-15T00:25:00.005+10:00

On the most insane itinerary ever, I'm back in Bombay for a fortnight, before heading up to Rajasthan again to see some places that I missed before. There are some good reasons for these movements, but they are boring.

The reasons for my lack of updates in Goa are:

a) Nothing much happens on a beach
b) It's quite hard to blog without electricity

It's also quite hard to take photos, but I did manage these two before the batteries ran out:

Mexican stand off between Goan Kitten and his parents:

'Arty' (where 'arty' means pressing the sepia button on my camera) photo taken on the beach:

So so long. It was nice to know ya, Goa.

Quiz! Quiz!

While I'm in Bombay, since I've already done all the touristy things, should I:

a) Enrol in a Judo/Yoga/Hindi/exercise course?
b) Go to Bollywood again (this at least covers my costs)?
c) Hang around Parsi areas looking shifty?
d) Other...?

Some Camel College knowledge

2008-04-15T00:16:00.005+10:00

The drivers' Chai Tea recipe:

Get some water boiling.
2 cups of milk
2 spoons of tea
Crushed cardamon & peppercorns
Add sugar to taste.

The Postman Always Calls Twice

2008-04-15T00:05:00.005+10:00

In Palolem someone told me the only post office was in Chowdi, about a 20 minute, 100 rupee rickshaw ride away. I bought a heap of bags to sell when I get back to Hobart, and wanted to post them home as I was leaving the next day. So I lugged them up the beach to the rickshaw, but when I got to Chowdi all the shops were closed for lunchtime (it was 3pm!).

Anyway, I go into the Post Office, which was open, and a guy there says they are closed for the day, I have to go back to Palolem, there is a Post Office on the beach, but I will have to pay 200 rupees extra there. So back I go to the beach, stomping around for a while before I find it.

In the beach Post Office, there was the same guy to take my money. He made it back before I did. I felt like I was in a Little Britain sketch where if I went into the butcher's it would be the same guy too, unless the Post Office guy said he was out to lunch

Uncle Gosh

2008-04-14T23:45:00.005+10:00

Meet Gosh, ex-monk with an eye for the ladies, a simple way of life and a habit of laying his hands on people and healing them. He spends the summer living at Palolem, doing yoga courses, reiki, 'healing' etc...

I present before the court two pieces of evidence:

Evidentiary fact no. 1:

Alex had an upset stomach his whole time in India, Gosh lays his hands on him and the next day his stomach returns to normal.

Evidentiary fact no. 2:

After spending 200 rupees for a yoga course and getting a bad back that lasts for 5 days (damn that sun salutation posture!), Gosh lays his hands on my back and within a few hours it's better.

Ladies and gentlement of the jury, I ask you to bear in mind that after being in India for a while you tend to get a bit strange, a bit open to ideas you would normally dismiss, a bit, well, hippie-ish.

The General Mindset of Palolem...

2008-04-05T18:10:00.003+11:00

I was just checking my email when an English girl, in here with her buddies, asked the owner "how do you say 'hello' in Indian". She wanted to put it in her email to seem exotic.

Now, from previous eavesdropping I knew she'd been here for two weeks.

The guy asked if she wanted to know what 'hello' is in Konkani, the language in Goa, or maybe in Hindi. No, she wanted to know what it was in 'Indian'.

Two things. How could she have been here for two weeks and not know:

a) There is more than one language in India, and 'Indian' is not one of them
b) How to say 'hello' where she's been staying?

But then, that's what Palolem's like.

Happy Birthday Francesca...

2008-03-30T17:57:00.004+11:00

Tomorrow is my little cousin's birthday. Happy birthday, Chessie!

Thought this might amuse everyone...

2008-03-28T20:12:00.004+11:00

It's an email from my mum:

I love your posts! The photos and the commentary. And was Fas to see Gosh's camp. Oh lord, not for me!!!

But darling, you must get your head around apostrophes. The first par has "it's biodiversity" , "it's lush green rainforest" ,"it's a heap of Russian ..."

This is wrong. With the apostrophe before the s, it is an abbreviation of IT IS. This is not what you are saying, you should be using "its" as a possessive.

Later, you write "It's the symbol for toilet.." This is correct, because you mean 'It is the symbol". Also, "It's actually been raining.." You can write this because you mean 'It has'.

And a spelling mistake - rejuvenate, not rejuvinate.

Honestly, you must get your head around its/it's because you keep making mistakes which means you don't understand whether it's possessive or an abbreviation (which is was in this sentence!).

Yes, yes, I make mistakes too, and I don't seem to be as good at spelling as I used to be. But at least you know I will tell you when you make such glaring errors, not note them, as others might, but not tell you.

Lots of love,

K bye :)

Mum

Comments?

Goa

2008-03-27T02:59:00.017+11:00

Goa is a tiny state that was a former colony of Portugal. National Geographic magazine described it's biodiversity as rivalling the Amazon basin. Inland, it's dense lush green rainforest and luminescent paddy fields. On the coast, it's gorgeous tropical beaches and palm trees. And at Palolem, where my uncle stays, it's a heap of Russian and English 20 year olds on two week package holidays.

Let's just say that I've heard people sitting around campfires singing "Hotel California" enough to last a lifetime.

The beach itself is so ridiculously beautiful it would be a cliche to put pictures up of it, also I can't zoom out on my camera enough to get it all in. But here's a photo off the web to give you an idea (except there are a lot more tourist huts and restaurants now):

These were Gosh's instructions on how to find his place once I got to Palolem:

"Go to the north side of the beach. If the tide is high, wait. Cross the water and walk to just before the restaurant in front of the island."

What was I expecting there? I didn't know. This is what I found:

Oh great, and how long am I staying here for?

It's actually been raining for an hour or so every evening, heavy monsoon rain that's come at least a month early. So after the first night of sleeping out in the rain Gosh got me a hut, and we're helping him move back over to the mainland a few weeks early. Here's what the sunset looks like from the road before the rains:

Yes I know there are no pics of Gosh here. The time isn't right. But here's a picture of a cow on holiday:

From Jaisalmer to Goa

2008-03-27T02:52:00.005+11:00

Is a big f...ing trip. It took me 36 hours by bus, then train, then bus again. It involved stopping in Bombay for an hour or so, and it felt like coming home.

Bombay from the taxi (all the mosques are green in the city, for some reason):

The Oval Maidan, where the kids go to play cricket. Saying you're Australian in here is tantamount to having to bat all afternoon, so they can all have a turn at getting you out:

Whoever designed Bombay was a genius: wide open tree-lined streets, great architecture, lots of parks. It takes a while to look past everything else to see how pretty it is though. Everyone lives on the street (as in eating, shopping, talking), so you can see the whole city at work just walking around.

Well a quick time there to rejuvinate, then on to Goa, to visit my uncle Gosh.

This is the one thing you must know in India:

2008-03-27T02:49:00.004+11:00

It's the symbol for toilet, and it crosses all cultural and language bounds.

The PER

2008-03-22T23:14:00.003+11:00

I've revised the PER (Pos Exchange Rate), due to it being based previously on alcohol. This is not a good item for comparison as many areas are dry, and anyway alcohol can be disproportionately expensive here. It's now gone from x10 to x4.

That is, you decide what you would pay at home for something, then times it by 4 for the equivalent rupee price.

Of course, I was getting totally ripped off before, but I think I'm at about the right level now because they still accept my money but don't seem so happy about the sale.

Two anecdotlets...

2008-03-22T23:06:00.004+11:00

The main driving instruction school in Mumbai is called, appropriately enough, "Good Luck".

I was smoking these semi-handmade Indian cigarettes and they were great. They were called medicinal cigarettes and I thought haha how quaint, until I was told they have opium in them.