Our mud hut in Nawalgarh

Arrived in Jaipur this afternoon, and are staying at the home of the owner of the car/driver comp. - they have a delightful private guest room with attached bathroom, and we have just enjoyed a delicious dinner with the family.  PLUS, they have Wi-Fi access (YEA!) ... so I can finally post the blogs I have been writing - if you want to read them in sequence scroll on down a bit ...

We have just spent 3 fascinating days staying in a round clay hut with a pointed thatch roof.  Actually, it was  not as primitive as it sounds as it had a proper bathroom attached, complete with a shower powered by solar energy, so there was plenty of hot water.  There were 5 such huts, situated 1km outside a small town called Nawalgarh, in a large organic garden.  This was one of the bookings which I was a bit unsure of - it could have been hit or miss, but luckily for us it was a huge hit! 

We decided to visit Nawalgarh (in northern Rajasthan) due to the large amount of havalis (homes) which have murals painted all over the outside and inside walls, plus most ceilings.  They did not disappoint us ... built and decorated during the last 200 years by wealthy merchants of the time (this area was  on the lucrative trading routes for silk, spices and opium ... and these merchants got very rich from it.)  To display their wealth they competed with each other to build bigger houses with the most murals!

The  town itself is a warren of narrow streets, with marauding goats, camel carts, over-loaded donkey carts, the ever-sacred wandering cows, cars, 3-wheeled taxis, huge buses and even people competing for the limited road space!  I could have sat and just watched this world go by for hours.  The ladies mostly wore very decorative red and orange saris and covered their faces.  I so wanted to photograph them but they were not friendly to visitors, and turned away from the camera.  But, the men were only too happy to be photographed - children also.  I asked Kalpana, our guest house hostess, (and amazing cook!) why the women were so unfriendly.  She answered that they are very shy, rural women ... and even she herself refuses to have her picture taken if she is out in the market.  She gave an example of one day she was in the town shopping and wearing a particularly beautiful sari, when a large tour group got out of their bus and their leader asked her if she minded the tourists photographing her, she said she did mind.  Yet, they all took photos anyway - and as she spoke I could still hear the anger and indignation in her voice.

This was an area I am uncomfortable with.  I love taking photographs of people, and Indians have such great character in their faces.  Yet, how would I feel if I was shopping downtown Ottawa and tourists kept pointing their cameras at me like I was a freak?  I have posed this question to a number of photographers and their answer is always the same - go for it, take your snap, then escape.  In the market, where most spoke only Hindi, I mimed asking permission by pointing to my camera then to them, and the men were always agreeable.  (Kalpana said they just like posing for a Western lady!)  But, on the drive to Jaipur this morning we saw 4 huge herds of sheep coming down the road towards us, with wonderful red turbaned and dhoti wearing men herding them along the road.  Anish had to slow the car, and I quickly grabbed my camera and snapped pictures out of my window.  The first herdsman immediately held out his hand for money, whilst the second yelled loudly in Hindi at me.  Anish laughed as we drove away and told me they wanted money for the photographs. 

We ate lunch today at a palace!  The building was extravagance plus, but we just had to visit at least one of these many palaces dotted around Rajasthan (and it was on today's route.)  It was built 200 years ago by a local Maharajah, and is now a very exclusive hotel for the super rich.  But, we had a tour and ate a very tasty and expensive (by Indian standards) meal ... and it was fun to dream.

Tomorrow I hit the markets of Jaipur - which I've been told have the best silks and silver, I'd better go and sharpen my bargaining skills!

To be continued ...

Random Thoughts ...

Random thoughts written on the 7 hour car journey from Delhi to Nawalgarh, Rajasthan:

- seeing more sacred cows by the roadside as we move further from Delhi

- this morning at breakfast Sheikh Pervez commented that he loves chatting with his guests because no matter who we meet in life, be they high or low, they know something that you don't.  (I like that philosophy.)

- he also said that the definition of happiness is "good health and a bad memory"

- when I mentioned that we are going to the guru Oso's meditation centre when in Pune he swooned - says he is "in love" with this man (took his wife to the centre for their honeymoon - she was not impressed as she does not meditate)

- I wish I could have spent more time chatting with him, he's quite a character

- taking photos in Delhi yesterday of women at a construction site wearing saris and carrying baskets of cement on their heads,  I complimented them on their strength (in mime language) - they giggled ... the men scowled.

- many shanty slums on outskirts of towns we pass, every conceivable thing used to construct walls and roof - this must be the ultimate in recycling

- saddened by a young girl performing cartwheels for money amongst the cars at traffic lights in Delhi

- why did the tiny girl of 4 or 5 follow Ray in Delhi making kissing sounds?

- if this is India's winter, why do the trees still have leaves?  Do they lose them like our conifers, a few at a time?

- small 3-wheeled taxi jammed overflowing with men - the ones hanging onto the back smile and wave as I take their photo, I worry they'll fall

- small carts pulled by huge camels become frequent as we enter Rajasthan

- as the terrain becomes more sandy and arid the women's saris become brighter

- I am starting to love this place ...


To be continued ...

A Day in Delhi

(I wrote this post 3 days ago, but have only just been able to connect to the internet to post it ...)

Delhi did not disappoint, it lived up to our expectations and everyone's warnings of chaos and traffic!  But, it was not an unpleasant chaos ... it was not overwhelming, thanks to our wonderful driver and, quickly becoming, good friend Anish.  He maneuvered us through the winding curvaceous lanes of traffic with a skill we still in wonder at.

Delhi traffic gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "Every man for himself".   Horns blast continuously, and not the polite little beeps we are used to - Indians use their horns to tell the other million drivers on the same stretch of road to watch out because they are coming through - and through they come, even if there is only an inch of space, their horn somehow miraculously creates the other needed 6 ft. 

Ray sat in the front seat with the driver so  that he could get first hand view of all the "fun", and his face glowed like a young boy's might when watching the Indy 500 - he loved every minute!  Strangely I wasn't at all scared as Anish expertly deposited us at each of Delhi's historical sights - I already trusted my life to this quiet man whom I had only known for 24 hours.

The sights of Delhi, unfortunately, have been overshadowed in my mind by the drive to get to them. Such sights as the magnificent Humayan's Tomb which became the blueprint for the Taj Mahal, and where we discovered that the knowledgeable Indian man who came up and started regaling us of the history of the place for a full 5 mins. was not doing it out of the goodness of his heart, and that even though we did not solicit his services we were expected to pay for them - he did not appreciate it when Ray gave him his only low rupee note which happened to be worth about 50 cents. 

Also, the Qutb Minar complex, whose city ruins were the first of Muslim India from the 12th century, and which included a gigantic 72m fluted red sandstone tower which is covered in intricate carving and inscribed with the words of the Koran.  It's stunningly beautiful, and I sat and watched as all the tourists were twisting their cameras to try to capture the whole tower - when 3 young Oriental teenage girls approached me and giggling asked if they could have their picture taken with me.  With me??  With all this history around us?  I obliged, and one by one they took turns perching on my rock beside me as their friends took their photograph - I had to wonder if I am that much of an oddity?

Unfortunately, by the time we reached the stunning Baha'i Temple - shaped like an unfolding lotus blossom with 27 white marble petals which spring from 9 pools and walkways (it's often compared with the Sydney Opera House) and a place I particularly wanted to visit, we only had enough energy left for a quick photograph before heading back to our guest house.  The long journey and losing a day in transit  coupled with the crowds and the traffic took it's toll, and we gratefully fell into our bed that night.

To be continued ...

INDIA - at last!

It is 10:30am on our first morning in India! Feeling more excited than jet-lagged I am sitting on a  garden swing in a delightful little walled courtyard in front of our Delhi guest home.  It has a million pots with all types of hanging and standing plants, with clay statues intermingled, so lovely.  I keep pinching myself ... to remind me that yes we really ARE finally in INDIA!!  The various frights and upsets getting here I won't go into ... they were frustrating but now forgotten.  (Although the actual flight New York - Delhi was surprisingly good!!)   Our driver was waiting for us at the airport along with the Delhi rep from his company, and we had a "fascinating" ride through late night Delhi traffic to our charming little guesthouse here in quiet south Delhi.

As I write, I hear a radio across the street with some Bollywood belle singing her heart out ... various men's voices calling to each other in Hindi, a man walking his bicycle singing out his wares has been by twice - but he sings out in Hindi so I have no idea what he is selling.  This little courtyard is surrounded by bright coloured birds with tropical sounding calls, rather like a crying baby ... from the rooftop courtyard this morning Ray and I saw a beautiful bright green parrot-type bird flitting from rooftops.

The sun is shining but it is a delightful temp. A delicious breakfast  (curried chickpeas, a vegetable dish and scrambled eggs) was eaten with the family at a large round table. The husband is a very interesting character - used to be an engineer, now describes himself as a meditating entrepreneur!!!  (He thought I looked way too young to be retired - so  I immediately warmed to him!) He and I talked of the pleasures of meditating, and how the technique allows him to live harmoniously in a city of 17 million people.

I spoke on the phone with my epal Suri, whom we will stay with after seeing Rajasthan - hearing his voice for the first time (after corresponding for nearly 5 years was very exciting) So, our first few hours in this amazing country have been filled with various delights.

Our driver Anesh has just arrived - a sweet man and excellent driver  with razor sharp reactions and a breaking foot of steel.  So we're off now to discover the sights of Delhi.

To be continued ...!

Letter to my Mother #4

Hi mum,

I arranged your funeral last week.  It felt very odd.  Not sad like I thought it would be, because everything was so matter-of-fact.  You would have had a chuckle, if you'd been there.  If you had been capable of understanding.  I know you're not sick, but you are losing weight so rapidly, your body does not have much resistance against the winter influenza and such.  We'll be away four weeks, and I wanted the arrangements in place.

It was all pretty simple.  You've said for years what you want to happen when you go - a quick cremation, and interment with dad, Wendy and Emilie at the Stoney Creek cemetery.


The Funeral Director was a humourless man, large with thick fingers.  A balding head and a snuffle as he breathed. He seemed nervous, stuttered and kept making mistakes.  Not what I expected - I wondered if my confident stare and curious questions put him off?  I'm not sure he would be a comforting person to guide me through this process if I were a grieving widow.  He showed me a catalogue of urns to choose from.  I smiled at the ridiculous pompousness of them.  You would have too.  Some were huge with sculptured horses and such like attached to metal boxes.  There were even clocks - yes clocks, meaning your time has run out?  (Seems a tasteless joke.)  Apparently you keep the ashes in the back of the clock (on your mantle?)  The prices were outrageous too.  I suppose this is a business like any other.

I asked him questions about the cremation process.  I was curious.  I don't get to talk to Funeral Directors every day. Yes, we do get most of your ashes, but some of the previously cremated body may be inadvertently included.  He was very apologetic about this.  We told him it didn't matter.  Then he warmed to the topic and explained that actually there isn't any ash at all, just shards of bone left, which are then ground up.  That is what is sent to us to bury.  Curious.

We didn't pick out any of the urns in the catalogue, we chose one from a small "selection" he had in the basement.  They were tasteful, and a fraction of the price.  I was instantly drawn to a blue ceramic one with birds in flight on it.  The name of it put me off, "Birds of Heaven", but you'd like it. 

I couldn't resist asking him if he had watched the excellent TV series "Six Feet Under" (about a funeral director and his family who live at the funeral home) he actually smiled at this point and said he had.  Was it realistic, I asked?  Yes, it was, very.

You'd be glad to know it is all taken care of mother, and all paid for ... if the dementia allowed you to understand.

I can hardly believe that this time next week we'll actually be living my 8 months of planning!! (Hope it all works!!)

INDIA HERE WE COME!!!

Happy Rambles ...

This morning as I was daydreaming and driving, I was only vaguely listening to the interview on the car radio. When suddenly I perked right up. The interviewee was saying:

"People who maintain a gratitude journal are healthier, more optimistic, and more likely to make progress toward achieving personal goals.

Studies report people are 25% happier and more energetic if they keep gratitude journals, have 20% less envy and resentment, sleep 10% longer each night and wake up 15% more refreshed, exercise 33% more and show a 10% drop in blood pressure compared to persons who do not."

Hey, that sounds pretty impressive! The fellow sure got my attention, (he had one of those soothing "you can trust me" kind of voices) and this was on 'respectable' CBC morning radio. Now I was all ears ... apparently all I had to do was to go to www.happyrambles.com and log on. But my first task was to remember the website, as my terrible memory gets worse by the day. So, I grabbed a scrap of paper from my purse and as I dangerously maneuvered the car through the fresh snow covered roads I scribbled the website address down. (Already knowing that my first gratitude for today would be that I hadn't slid off the road as I wrote and steered!)

If you try out this website, be careful not to type in happyramblers.com because up will pop pictures of happy motorcycles skidding through muddy fields (Don't ask me how I know!) The correct site certainly is minimalist, but now that I have registered, I will apparently get a reminder every evening into my IN box to list 3-5 things that I am grateful for. That's it, and after listing them I will become healthier, more optimistic, sleep better, etc. etc.

Hmmm, I wonder if they have to be 3-5 different things each night - do they reject you if you repeat?

Happy New Year!

It's new year's eve and I feel like a limp rag doll. How come some people can socialize all day every day and never get tired of it? Me, I need to pace myself, spread out social events, savour them, replay them in my mind over and over, relive the excitement and events. Not smack, bang, wallop, one right after another! Hey, give me a chance to breathe please! I guess that is why we are not great socializers ... takes too much energy!

But, family is different. Spending time with my grown children, their spouses, and my gorgeous grandchildren is the very BEST times ever.

Anyway, daughter has left, back to her life in Toronto, and sons have retreated to their respective busy lives of typical 30 somethings (way too busy, in my mind, but I'm only the mother and don't know anything.) This leaves Ray and I some space and time to finally be able to seriously plan for the big trip coming up in 18 days.

But, wait, I'd almost forgotten ... in an hour or two our rambunctious grand-puppy will be dropped off ("Thanks mum, really appreciate it, happy new year, see you Sunday!") - a 6 months old bundle of white Labrador energy! Then, in a week's time we move in with our grand kids and babysit them for a week ("Thanks mum, really appreciate it, what shall we bring you back from Hawaii?")

That will leave us 3 full days to seriously plan before we leave!! HELP!!

Oh well ... what would we do without our wonderful families?

Happy New Year Everyone!

Just 3 Weeks to Go!!!

The most important thing first ... it is 3 weeks today that we leave for India!!! Do I sound excited? I should, because I am - very!! It's count-down time, and list-making time, and 'let's get serious about what clothes to take' time. My daughter, who travelled northern India last year with a back-pack, is trying to get me to lower my expectations ... "Mum, it's smelly, noisy and you tread in poop all the time!" Hmmmmm, she's not putting me off. I tell her that we will travel differently, we have a car and driver whilst travelling around Rajasthan - whereas she and boyfriend of the moment did it on a shoestring. They stayed in the cheapest places, ate at food stalls and travelled by train 4th class!

But, it's OK, she's not going to dampen my spirits, I've done my reading and I am prepared for an entirely different culture experience, and if I do tread in poop I'll simply wipe it off and carry on - isn't that what life is all about? My rose-coloured glasses are firmly in place and I welcome everything that comes!

On another note, daughter, hubby and I went to the movies last night - a pretty rare event for us, but we wanted to see the new movie "The King's Speech" wondering if it lived up to all the hype. Well, I can honestly and truly advise you to run, don't walk, to see this fantastic film!!! Colin Firth hit the nail on the head with his portrayal of poor King George VI and his dreadful stutter, but for my money it was Geoffrey Rush who stole the show as the Aussie speech therapist who stubbornly persisted with 'Bertie' to allow him to fulfill his kingly speaking duties. Great stuff! At the end of the movie the whole audience spontaneously burst into applause - have only ever heard that once before! I thoroughly agree with one movie critic who wrote:

"The King's Speech is anything but a stiff-upper-lip drama as constrained as a corseted queen. It is, however, perfect film fodder for discerning audiences starved for literate entertainment."

(It's also about time a light was shone on the terrible impediment of stuttering. As with other inflictions, bringing it out of the closet, talking about it, and demonstrating that stuttering CAN be helped will hopefully begin to broaden understanding, tolerance, and encourage those who suffer to seek the help they need.)

Wishing everyone a happy, healthy and PEACEFUL 2011.

Pleasures ...

One of the beauties of my time of life is the TIME to do whatever one wants. However, first you have to dispose of the guilt gremlin, which insists on sitting on your shoulder and whispering in your ear. Old habits are hard to break ... those of us who have spent most of our lives fulfilling other's needs find it hard to actually think of ourselves first for a change. But, once he's gone (for it must be male!) then you can sort out what makes your soul sing and indulge in it.

I have found many things which give me great happiness, and writing tops the list (with gardening, photography, and travelling close seconds!) My weekly writing class is 2 hours which I hate to miss. None of us are brilliant, but many are very good, and some have even been published. But, it's the camaraderie and support which makes our group of ten so very special. A mix of ages and backgrounds, with both males and females, we are led by a wonderful lady who challenges us each week with different writing assignments. I think of us actually as a mutual admiration society ... since we come each week and read what we've written to rounds of applause and exclamations of delight from the other members. Now, who could resist that?

I still have trouble some days banishing the guilt gremlin so that I can indulge in my passion, therefore, when I heard this little poem from a member of a different writing class I immediately loved it. In fact I have it taped on the wall above my writing desk. (You can replace the word 'writing' by any passion you want!)


I’m Writing

The kitchen floor needs waxing,
My dining room’s a mess,
The basement lacks attention,
But, I could not care less.
I’m writing.

The gravel path needs weeding,
Plums are falling from the tree,
The lawn is growing toadstools,
But, that’s OK with me.
I’m writing.

I badly need a haircut,
The pile of bills grows high,
The telephone keeps ringing,
But, you don’t hear me sigh.
I’m writing.

B. Salvin 2010

Books and Quotes ...

Does anyone adore quotes the way I do? Not just any old quotes, but often I'll read what someone said (who is much better at words than I am) and I'll exclaim, "Yes! That's It!" I had been thinking the same but couldn't express it.

I also adore Books, so putting books and quotes together becomes a real high for me! Here are a few I found which I thought hit the nail right on the head:

A best-seller was a book which somehow sold well simply because it was selling well. (Daniel J. Boorstin)

Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house. (Henry Ward Beecher)

Books are the compasses and telescopes and sextants and charts which other men have prepared to help us navigate the dangerous seas of human life. (Jesse Lee Bennett)

There are books of which the backs and covers are by far the best parts. (Charles Dickens)

And finally, I adore this one:

Never judge a book by its movie. (J. W. Eagan)

The count down is on!!

It's only 7 weeks and 1 day until we leave for India!!! I am getting sick with excitement ... so I had a good talk with myself today and decided I MUST start thinking about packing - light.

To be clear, I HATE packing!! Way too many decisions to make. Both times we went to Thailand I ended up taking far too many clothes - and dragging a very heavy and over-sized suitcase around Asia is absolutely no fun - and rather ridiculous. Therefore, I've decided to start early to miss the 'packer's panic' which always attacks me before leaving for anywhere (even just a weekend in Toronto!!)

I turned to my favourite website www.indiamike.com for suggestions. I found lots of ideas, but basically they are for skinny-minny 25 year olds (whose clothes can fit into a sandwich baggie!) Look at this picture from one forum post and you'll see what I mean ... note the little red bag carrying the "clothes" is almost the same size as the one carrying toiletries? That's because the clothes are all size 2.

Looks like I'm going to have to skip indiamike.com on this one and use my own common sense!

Any suggestions?????

musing ...

Sometimes it takes having visitors from away to make you open your eyes and appreciate where you live and all you have to be thankful for.

Our nephew from England and his partner just left after a two week visit with us. He is in the British Army and has been stationed in Cypress for the last two years. She is a nurse in the Royal Air Force and has just returned from three months in Afghanistan. He has seen war in Afghanistan twice, Iraq, Bosnia and Northern Ireland.

You'd think seeing that much evil would make a person cynical, yet he is a gentle, sensitive person ... and one can't help but wonder how he has survived what he must certainly have seen and experienced over the last twenty years of his life. He hasn't hidden from army life as he has had a very successful career, and been promoted to a high rank - not to mention head-hunted for the Canadian military.

That is what is bringing them to Canada. A new position with our own military forces. Having lived all over the world, they have decided (like thousands before them) that Canada offers them the best chance of a stable and happy life. Watching them excitedly house-hunting, and seeing where I live through their eyes has made me look again at the 'riches' of my own life.

It also reminds me of the resilience of the human spirit. That one can fight evil but not become evil, witness destruction but not become destructive ... that a good heart is it's own protection.

They'll make wonderful new citizens of our country.

Letter to my mother #3

Hi mum,

It's been a while since I last wrote to you. Lots has happened, that's for sure. Today is 5 weeks since you moved to the Nursing Home to live, it certainly has been a difficult time for you. I have left the Home in tears many times, because seeing you so unhappy there makes me wonder if I made the right decision for you.

Making such important life choices for other people is not something I enjoy, nor take lightly. But, since I am all you have, the responsibility rests with me - and I have to tell you, I really HATE it!!! The nurses and care workers can tell me a million times that you belong there and that I have no other choice, but when you cling to me and cry like a baby it tears me to pieces.

However, last Tuesday we had a great visit, didn't we? You were calm when I arrived, seemed glad to see me, and enjoyed being wheeled around the grounds in the sunshine, while you told me some incredible stories that are real only in your mind. Leaving you was easy too, and I drove home with a light heart. Therefore, I was confident bringing Suzanne to see you today. You always had a soft spot for her - was it because you were working at the hospital the day she was born, came rushing to Delivery, and got to hold her when she was just minutes old? You went straight out and bought her the frilliest and most unpractical dress you could find. I still have it.

Your happiness and shout of glee when you saw Suzanne today made all the staff turn and smile. We had a great visit outside in the sunshine, didn't we? Is that why you were so upset and frantic when we came to leave? Your care worker was wonderful at calming you down, but I am sorry our visit upset you so much. You were sitting quietly in the T.V. lounge with some other ladies when we arrived; we watched you for a few minutes through the glass. We totally upset your day. Do you wish we hadn't come? Was it worth the hour of happiness only to become so upset as we left?

I don't know the answers mother. I wish I could help you understand that I'll come again soon.

Dementia is an ugly word.

Like most of the world I spent the day spellbound, glued to my television, watching as each Chilean miner was pulled the 600m to the surface. Wasn't it wonderful to watch a good news story for a change?

How Much of the World Have You Seen?

I thought I had done a fair amount of travelling until I took the Travbuddy quiz and found out I had only visited 8% of the world! Hey, I've got to get moving!

Hmmm, maybe after India we'll go to Russia, then Australia, South America, and possibly call in to see how China is coming along ... looks like a trip to Africa might be in the stars too. Looking at this map makes me realize just how much is out there that I've never seen, how many experiences I still have to encounter.

One of my favourite quotes is by the Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana (1863-1952)
He wrote:

"There is wisdom in turning as often as possible from the familiar to the unfamiliar: it keeps the mind nimble, it kills prejudice, and it fosters humour."

Hear, hear, George!

Letter to my Mother #2

Dear Mother,

I don't think you have noticed that I am not visiting you as often as I was. The staff there think it's better for both you (allow you to bond with them a bit more) and me, and I think it is working. You certainly seemed more relaxed when I visited last Wednesday, although all that fuss with the new wheelchair rather upset you, didn't it. Don't worry, you'll get used to it, it's basically the same as the old thing you were using, just more comfy!

I'm sorry to hear you lost your bottom teeth. Yes, it's hard to keep track of them, isn't it ... but you seem to be managing very well without them. Let's not worry about it, the way you were chomping into that beef stew when I was there showed me you really don't need them (I think bottom teeth are over-rated anyway!)

Glad you like the new sandals I bought you. You can wear those thick mauve socks you love so much with them, and the Velcro straps will expand to fit the socks. I must make a note to buy you some more socks ...

Another thing you haven't realized is that Aileen who you used to talk to all the time is no longer there. She died last week. They don't make a big fuss about deaths at the Home, it seems, maybe that's for the best. Already there is a new lady in her bed, and sitting at your table, she seemed to like you and I'm not sure why she is there but she doesn't appear to have dementia. She even comes from London England like you! Try to be friendly to her mother, everyone needs a friend.

See you on Wednesday ...

In the news ...

Sometimes I read the news and just shake my head ... following on from my last post, today I read:

"A Muslim stonemason who spent nearly four decades helping to restore a Roman Catholic cathedral in France has been immortalized as a gargoyle peering out from its facade, with the inscription "God is great" at its clawed feet — a move that has sparked controversy."

Apparently, the group who opposes this is upset because:

1. The man is a Muslim, and has "no right to have his likeness on a Christian cathedral". (However, they didn't mind him spending 40 years using his skills to help restore this cathedral).

2. They don't like the inscription because it is Muslim. (Isn't this the same God that they pray to, and don't they think He is great?)

3. They particularly dislike the fact that the inscription is also written in Arabic (Don't they know that gargoyles originated in ancient Egypt, so Arabic is quite appropriate?)

All this anti-Muslim rubbish is really making me mad!!!

I know that both of these major religions are at fault, and no doubt Muslims would be equally upset if a Christian saying (such as "Love thy Neighbour" perhaps?) was inscribed on one of their mosques. But, people, can we not just get along???? You are praying to the SAME God!!!

Has the world gone crazy???

Must it always be thus???

Oxymorons make language interesting ...

I love oxymorons, I think they are generally witty and amusing, so I was pleased to find this site www.oxymoronlist.com which lists hundreds of them.

"oxymoron: a figure of speech with pointed conjunction of seemingly contradictory expressions ie: cheerful pessimist, ill health, or inside out"

Next, I read in the news about the Florida pastor who plans to burn copies of the Qur'an on September 11th ...

So, I checked my new favourite oxymoron site to see if it had anything listed under religions - guess what it says? (And I'm not making this up) - Religious Tolerance.

Travel Journals ...

Every time I go away on vacation I buy a spanking new journal with the very best intentions of filling every page with all my new adventures. Generally, I manage to keep it going for the first 2 or 3 days, then get behind a few days, and finally give up entirely in disgust as I'm so far behind it would take forever to get caught up.

Today is 4 months and 14 days until we leave for India, and I am determined to be a better journal writer on this trip. So, whilst browsing the travel books in my favourite bookstore I came across a wonderful little gem called "Writing Away" with a sub title of "a creative guide to awakening the journal-writing traveler" ... now, doesn't that sound just the thing for this perennial procrastinator? I flicked through it and immediately liked the author's style. With chapters like 'Let the Wild Writing Begin', 'Write Two Pages and Call Me in the Morning', and 'Having a Great Time, Wish I Were Here' - how could I resist?

The author, Lavina Spalding, has not disappointed me, and I am devouring this book like it was my last meal. I love this woman!! We must have been separated at birth! She had me hooked even in the Introduction with lines like:

"My aspiration is to embolden you to view everyday life as a journey and travel as an ongoing state of mind ... we write words in an empty book, and an inanimate object is transformed into a living, breathing memoir ...(your journal is) a relationship, and let me tell you, it's no cheap one-night stand."

So, I hungrily read on, and I learn that my journal should be unlined! "What?" I cry at the book in alarm, but Lavinia convinced me that an unlined book "evinces freedom: license to plaster the page with chaos, to doodle, sketch, experiment, paste in colourful brochures and paper chopsticks holders. An absence of lines leaves room for the imagination to take over." Of course, that's where I've been going wrong, I say to myself. My journals have all been lined, and obviously I've felt stifled, so stifled I couldn't continue - it has nothing to do with laziness at all. So, emboldened with my new enthusiasm I set out to find just the right journal for me.

Now, have you ever looked for a journal with blank pages? They are few and far between, everyone obviously wants the safety of lines! But, in the 3rd or 4th shop I found one, and the Buddha head and bamboo motif on the cover really 'spoke' to me, - and I could hear Lavinia's cheers at my success as I hurried home with my spanking new journal. I continued reading her book, and I was told that the book should "be willing to lie flat" and the pages should be cream or tan as "stark white pages can be intimidating." Naturally, my new journal does NOT lie flat and the pages are white. What's a poor intimidated journal writer to do? (Maybe read the WHOLE chapter before enthusiastically rushing to the shops?)

But, "Writing Away" continues to charm me. I've learned that my old habit of eavesdropping is not rude at all, in fact I am simply looking for "found dialogue" and as I scribble down the overheard gems in my journal I can be assured that I am participating in "one of life's sweet nectars". I'm not sure if Lavinia will ever make a continuous and conscientious journal writer out of me, but I certainly am enjoying her book and ideas regarding travelling. Last night before dropping off to sleep I read:

"Travel renews our youth, giving us dispensation to reclaim the original zest for art so often rooted out of us as adults. Surrounded by the unfamiliar, we regain the eyes of a six year old."

With those sweet thoughts in my head, I had very pleasant dreams last night.

I saw a very interesting documentary the other day. Basically it featured many groups of people of all ages, getting together every morning in various public parks and laughing. Yes, laughing. Loud, raucous laughter! It was quite funny to watch, and you found yourself smiling at them, but their intent was not to make YOU smile, but to make themselves feel better.This was Laughter Yoga. An amazing technique started in Mumbai India, by Dr. Madan Kataria 15 years ago. Apparently, he was writing an article entitled "Laughter - The Best Medicine" and decided to test it on himself and a few friends. It seems the body cannot tell the difference between real laughter and laughter on command, and the benefits are amazing!

"Studies have shown that laughter has a profound positive impact on both our physical and mental well-being. The benefits range from reducing anxiety and stress, to oxygenating our blood and organs, to improving circulation and releasing endorphins. Laughter also lifts our mood, reduces blood pressure and strengthens our immune systems. Western science is just beginning to discover the many positive effects of laughter."

So, the good Dr. Kataria of Mumbai added a few yoga breathing exercises between bouts of laughter, and voila, 'Laughter Yoga' was born! Now there are Laughter Yoga groups all around the world. I googled it and found there is even a group here where I live. I've emailed the leader to see when they meet - so watch this space!

Try it ... throw your head back, and laugh out loud (maybe in a private place at first if you are a little shy). It works, and who knows, perhaps it might shed a few pounds too - or, you'll simply be too relaxed to worry about them!

Letter to my mother ...

Dear Mother,

As I write this you are living at the Interim Long Term Care Facility at the local hospital. You are there because at this stage of your life you need the extra care that they can give you, but I don't think you understand that. I visit you when I can. I know I used to come 3 or 4 times a week, but I just can't do that any more and I feel badly as I know you like me to be there. I can only come twice a week now because my visits drain the very life out of me. Leaving you I feel limp and useless.

You always had that effect on me. It was never easy for us to be in the same room, was it? Now when I visit, you cling to me as though you were clinging to life itself, and I'm sure it must feel like that to you. You cry, and you agonize because you want your life condition to be better.

Dementia is an ugly word.

Total dementia would be easier for you. But, life hasn't been that kind, it has given you partial dementia. Enough so you need 24 hour care, but you are often fully comprehending where you are and what is happening to you. That is why I feel so sad for you Mother.

Ray came to see you this morning, but you were not very pleasant to him. I expect you were mad that it wasn't me ... but I have visited twice this week and I still feel the effects of those visits. I will come on Monday after my yoga class. But, I cannot tell you that, because time has no meaning for you now.

The nurses tell me you are trying to manipulate me. Are you? It certainly wouldn't be the first time ...

Who would have thought that you would be leaning on me at the end of your life? Often when you hug me now, you whisper sorry, sorry. Are you saying you're sorry for crying? Or, is this a confessional sorry?

Does it even matter any more?

I'll do my best for you mother. But, I can't allow you to suck me dry. I need my essence, I need my spirit, I need my energy as I still have a lot of living to do, a lot of good times to experience with my wonderful husband, family and friends that surround me.

I wish our 61 years together had been different, but they were what they were.

And I will continue to do my best for you mother, I won't leave you. Don't cry any more.

To Plan, or Not to Plan ...

I think one of the best parts of a journey is the planning stage. Someone once said that the pleasure in a trip is 90% anticipation - I agree. So, I have been indulging myself on a mammoth scale recently, scouring the Internet for every little bit of information regarding our upcoming trip to India.

I'm obsessed! Firing off questions to the various travel site forums on the best places to stay, the best tour guides to hire, the best shops to buy silk etc. etc. etc.
Oh, I'm having SO much fun! IndiaMike.com and Trip Advisor have become my new best friends ... also Sonia in India who is handling our car and driver hire, and is firing back answers as quickly as I can send them. She's even invited Ray and I to stay at her home in Jaipur for the 3 nights we are there!

I started thinking of all the fun people miss when they book a standard tour, or place all this in the hands of a travel agency. Just pay your money and follow the lady with the yellow flag, don't question us, don't worry, don't think, you are in good hands with us ... I could NEVER join one of those groups. But I know they have a place, and I must admit that sometimes when I'm frustrated at finding just the right place - well, I can see they might have a certain appeal.

Then there are the travellers who never plan, who like to just 'wing-it'... they are mostly single (and likely to stay that way;) and often under 30 ... I don't fall into that category either, although I must say I rather envy their laissez-faire attitude.

No, I'm a planner, and it's the part of the journey I adore. I am constantly amazed at how generous people whom I've never met, and likely never will, are with their time and sharing of experiences. Like Paul, a professional photographer from California, who travelled with his wife to India 2 years ago, and whose answers and comments I came to enjoy on T.A.'s India forum. I felt we were on the same wavelength which waslater confirmed when he mentioned that he had spent a full year planning their 3 week Indian trip (now, there's a planner!) I read that he had written a 7 page account of their India trip which he'd be happy to forward to others if it would help them plan. This comment was 2 years old, but I took a chance and sent him a personal message (you can do that on Trip Advisor) and asked if he still had the 7 page epistle, and would he kindly forward it to me also? Well, he had, and he did! That began an interesting correspondence between us and even a phone call, with the result that my itinerary was further tweaked to include an overnight 6 hour train ride.

So, where are we going? Well, it's going to be fantastic ... we will sleep in a traditional tribal clay hut with thatched roof in Nawalgarh, stay with a vegetarian Indian family in Jaipur, sleep in a very old Maharaj Palace in Bundi, an Englishman's desert retreat house in Udaipur, travel overnight on a sleeper train, stay with my penpal in Pune, and sleep as close to the beach as we can get in Goa.

I am SO excited!!!!

Unfulfilled Dreams

Do you have a dream? Somewhere or something that has captured your imagination most of your life, yet try as you might you have not yet been able to fulfill?

My dream is India - in all it's glory, noise, confusion, squalor and majesty!

I took University courses in my 30's in Indian history and Indian religions, drinking up every drop of information presented (although my senior brain has forgotten a lot of it now!) I watched every movie I could that was based in India, every documentary, read non-fiction books on India and fiction based in India.

But life, as always, always seemed to get in the way of me living my dream, be it marriage, children, career, health issues, family commitments, husband's bad knees ... whatever, something else always took precedent. That was OK, I simply told myself that there was plenty of time, I knew I would go someday. Then last year I turned 60 ... what? How did that happen? I'm suddenly a senior? Where did all those years go? I need to start living my dreams NOW! But, hubby needed a knee replacement, so again I waited.

Knees now good as new, and we're finally going to India next January!!

It's a funny thing about India. Say the word and you instantly get two reactions. People either screw up their noses and look at you in total disbelief that you'd even consider going to such a place, or they get a serene half smile on their lips and start going into raptures of how much they adore India and recount long tales of their own travels there.

Yes, India is a dichotomy. Totally unexplainable.


It's home to over 1.2 billion people of wildly varying religions, cultures and levels of wealth. Only 63 years since declaring its Independence from English rule, modern India is still defining itself, sometimes against the friction inside and outside of its borders.

But,I've found a fantastic website at www.indiamike.com which is helping me prepare (as much as one can) since it's aimed at travelers to India - it's frank and offers very down-to-earth honest advice. For example, one article for virgin India visitors (like me) makes no bones about what my first impressions will be like:

"Your welcome to India is not a friendly one. The first thing you notice is the people. I mean lots of people. People moving in all directions. You have to deal with the worst of India head-on, and it’s really raw. Be it the beggars, the touts, the poor children, or the local taxi drivers, you have to deal with all of them minutes after your arrival.

Whatever tricks and tips you have prepared yourself with are forgotten in a matter of minutes after facing this rude welcome. It’s like learning to swim by reading a book, and then jumping right into the pool. India teaches you new lessons only after you have failed the test." (http://www.indiamike.com/india-articles/8_the-india-confusion)

This is the kind of thing first time visitors need to read, but as my daughter said after her first visit to India last year, "Mum, you think you are prepared for it all, but it still hits you over the head like a 2 by 4!"

Has this dampened my enthusiasm at all? Not one little bit. I know that visiting India is more of an experience than a vacation, but I think that I might just have an itinerary planned which would give us a bit of both - more about that in my next post. Stay tuned!

Gardening with Gin

After red wine, my favourite tipple is gin and tonic. Ooooooh, I can salivate right now just thinking of squeezing in a great chunk of lemon, adding extra ice cubes and then sipping it back - marvellous!! So, imagine my surprise when I discovered a book combining my favourite pastime and my favourite tipple. It's fabulous title is "The Gin and Tonic Gardener" by Janice Wells, with a sub title of "Confessions of a Reformed Compulsive Gardener".


I shared this title with a friend who also happens to be an avid gardener (not sure if she's into gin and tonic, but I know she's very fond of red wine!) and she loved the title so much she ordered the book. So, who said a good title doesn't boost sales???

Anyway, what this book is about is attitude, not just about gardens, but towards life. Wells has come to the conclusion that perfection, botanical or otherwise, is not the goal. Enjoyment is. Endurance is. The first line of her Introduction says, "When my mother was trying to be tactful, she called me a relaxed housekeeper." Yes!! Another relaxed housekeeper, and she likes gin and tonic, plus a relaxed garden - this is my kind of woman!!

So, as I head out to watch my weeds growing on top of each other, I'll just pour another drink and consider buying another of her books entitled "Definitely Not Martha Stewart". You've gotta love it!!!

Waves of Life

Isn't it infuriating how life can suddenly shove you sideways like a giant wave? Knock you off your feet, drag you under, and if you are lucky, deposit you gasping and exhausted up onto the shore?

Just three weeks ago Ray and I were thoroughly enjoying a very relaxing tour of the Maine coast and New Brunswick's rocky shores. Lazy hours mesmerized by the crashing ocean, long walks along deserted sandy beaches (deserted in New Brunswick, at least!) and just enjoying a rather nomadic wandering couple of weeks. Then, the first little wave hit the shore - our son phoned to let us know my mother appeared to have developed another delirium and he was on the way to the hospital to see how she was. The second wave hit an hour later as I talked to her on my cell phone trying to persuade her confused and agitated mind to co-operate and take the medicines the doctors had prescribed.

Should we immediately return home? It was a 13 hour drive, and we had a unique boat trip booked in 2 days time to a bird sanctuary in the Bay of Fundy to watch puffins feeding their young from birding blinds. No, stay, stressed my caring sons, we can manage here, nanny is being well cared for. Reluctantly, and rather guiltily, we waited for the trip. More waves, literal ones this times, 6ft ones, blew up and caused our bird trip to be cancelled. Home we went.

Now the waves are coming fast and furious, and I confess I often feel submerged by them. Searching for a good Nursing Home for my mother is proving exhausting, daily visits to my increasingly confused hospitalized mother is very depressing, and finally finding a good Home only to be told the waiting list is 18 months long is crushing.

I'm clinging to the fact that rainbows always appear (somewhere!) after a storm, so I am taking deep breaths of life-giving air so I survive when I am finally cast up on the beach.

Where are my pictures????

All my blog pictures have vanished!!! Well, actually not vanished, I inadvertently erased them ... technology is great, but when 'stuff' gets erased with a simple press of a button - yikes!!!

Sorry folks ...




So, better start again. This picture was from last week, my grandson's soccer practice. Son Brian is coaching Josh's team - 5 and 6 year olds.

Wasn't it just yesterday that my husband coached Brian's team when he was 6 years of age, and I sat on the sidelines shouting encouragement?

Ain't it grand to see history repeating itself?

Poor Thailand.

I ache for it's people

The innocent ones who just want to earn a living.

The ones we've met on visits there

Smiling, friendly, ever-helpful.

They are a Buddhist people

Buddhists believe in non-violence

So, why is there fighting in Bangkok?

Can democracy only come through violence?

Has no-one read Gandhi?



http://www.abc.net.au/news/video/2010/05/18/2902603.htm