We're Home!

Well, after 35 hours of travel (counting waiting around at airports) we finally arrived home yesterday.  Being met at the airport by Brian and the two grandkids made coming back so much easier ... but, India sure was hard to leave!

As promised, I'm posting just a very few of the thousands of pictures I took, starting with Delhi and Humayan's Tomb - this was a pre-cursor to the Taj Mahal (see the similarities?)

These are some of the random pictures I took on the road between Delhi and our first stop in Nawalgarh. Many were taken through the window so the quality isn't always that good, but I think the subjects often made up for it - I love the first one of the whole family out shopping on their bike (note the little fellow in front of the driver).

And, our little mud hut that was home for 3 days in Nawalgarh ...

More to follow ...

Pune - A Glimpse at How the Other Side of India Lives!

Rajasthan is primarily a state of farmers, and we met mostly the poorer people of India, experiencing little evidence of India's place as an emerging major world power with regard to it's economy and huge technologically educated work force.  However, these four days spent in the major modern city of Pune, in the wonderful company of successful business owner Suri, and his physician wife, Vinny, have given us an eye to a completely different India.

We were so lucky when Suri negotiated a very favourable rate for us in one of Pune's premier 5 star hotels - oh, what luxury!!!  We felt (and were treated) like the Maharaja's we have been reading about all through Rajasthan!!  A great treat!

Suri had a full itinerary for us, and we started at the Osho International Meditation Retreat Centre. Google Osho and you'll see he was quite a controversial Guru in the 80's and 90's, yet seeing the hundreds of Western men and women who flocked to  the Centre each morning dressed in their long saffron day-robes (white for evening wear) his ideas and classes are as popular as ever with people seeking a new way to handle the stress in their lives and find a gentler way to live.  The Centre offers many different types of meditation sessions, yogas and therapies ... visitors are not allowed to wander into the Centre, but whilst in their bookstore I spied through the great glass windows a large group of red-robed participants swirling about under the trees, moving freely to music - they sure looked happy!

A visit of a different sort was to the place where Gandhi was imprisoned by the British during WW2, and where his wife subsequently died.  I would like to research and read more about his wife when I return, as apparently she was a very strong woman in her own right.  The British allowed Gandhi to visit her at this palace where she was imprisoned, and he was with her when she died.  Her ashes are entombed in a lovely Memorial Garden at the Palace.

Lunch that day was taken at Suri's Club.  This was an extremely opulent place, and reminded me of the exclusive men's clubs in England (except more modern architecture).  The service and attendance was very over-the-top, (but I think we were the only ones to feel this) and the food was excellent!

That evening we four went to an open air concert which was billed as showing how Indian and western instruments can compliment each other.  It was a delightful concert starting with a popular young singer from an eastern part of India singing traditional folk tunes with a modern twist.  Then, a rather famous Spanish classical guitarist took stage with his Indian counterpart on the sitar, and another man who was most proficient on the small Indian drums.  The Spaniard had just flown in from Europe the night before, and the musicians had only had 5 mins. to practice, but the sounds they created blended most melodically.  I looked around at the audience and was treated to quite an array of very smart classical Indian dress - indeed it was a study in eastern fashion, and judging by the interest shown by the photographers in the audience, a bit of a collection of 'Who's Who' in Pune (I felt rather shabby in my many-times-packed-and-unpacked travel clothes!)

Discussions with our two intelligent friends were a highlight to our trip ... we covered many subjects from arranged marriages to India's politics, from India's poor to Indian immigrants abroad.  It was a great opportunity to discuss and clarify our ideas based on our observations of India thus far.  They are a very modern worldly couple who have travelled extensively both within India and outside, and their open minds and excellent English provided some memorable times spent in their company.

Who would have thought that an email contact 5 years ago on an International epal site would have led to such a wonderful friendship??

I haven't even mentioned the great shopping trip Vinny and I engaged in - I finally bought the Indian silk fabric that I have been looking for throughout India!  (Hopefully, to be made into a dress for Mike and Alexandra's wedding in July) - Vinny helped me pick out a lovely silk shawl to match also!!

Now, we are flying down the coastline to Goa, and there we hope to eat lots of
"fish curry 'n rice" and relax for 4 days before the grueling flights home from Mumbai.

To be continued ...

P.S.  I haven't counted exactly how many photographs I have taken in India, and I wish I could share some on this site, but unfortunately my little net book which I'm travelling with won't let me.  It's most infuriating, but rest assured (those who are asking for pics.) as soon as we're home and I'm back on my main laptop they will be posted in spades!

A man named Piers

(We are now just east of Mumbai visiting with my epal of 5 years.  We arrived last evening and met Suri and his wife Vinny for the first time - it was a joyous occasion!  But, more about that later ... first here's a blog I wrote a few days ago)

They say you can learn a lot about a person by perusing his/her personal library, and if that is the case then the owner of Mountain Ridge is a man with most eclectic tastes.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, Mountain Ridge Homestay is owned by an Englishman named Piers.  He has built a most attractive house on a very high peak amidst the hills outside Udaipur.  It's peaceful rural calm hits you immediately you immerge from the auto rickshaw which has brought you along the bumpy rocky road from town.

Immediately, one starts to wonder how an (almost) elderly Englishman came to be living here in this remote part of India, what is the story which brought him here?

(Whilst in the tiny village of Bundi we stayed at a lovely haveli owned by an Australian lady.  We had heard about her from our hosts in Jaipur - such is the unusual nature of her circumstances - and she met us upon arrival.  A very tall lady of advanced years, she had sharp yet not unpleasant features, calm professional demeanor and a long gray braid snaking down her back.  Later, her cool exterior softened and she seemed to warm to us, and I started to wonder what her story was, why was she here and what brought her?  Maybe a left-over from the hippy haydays of the 60's & 70's?  Did she marry an Indian man and followed him to live here?  I seem to doubt the latter as she didn't seem to be the type to follow anyone,  yet, one never knows where love will lead you.  Before we left I decided I must engage her in conversation to try to find out a little of her story - but alas, she was not at the desk when we checked out, so she remains a mystery to me ...)

Now, I was faced with yet another Brit with probably just as interesting a story to tell.  But, Piers was in Nepal when we arrived, and would not be returning for a few months!  Darn it!

However, Mountain Ridge Homestay was being run  most capably by a young 25 year old man named Amrit,  and  a 22 year old fellow named Padam.  They were assisted by an assortment of others, none of which seemed over 15.  Both young men spoke English, Amrit's being the best.  He chatted with us the first day we were there over a pot of chai masala tea (to which I am now addicted!) and told us a most extraordinary story.

It seems all these young people are from Nepal, and Piers was very good friends with their business
man father.  Unfortunately, their father died suddenly 4 years ago of a heart attack, leaving the family of 4 children with no-one to care for them.  Piers adopted them all ... from a young girl of 7, a boy of 12, a girl of 15 and Amrit of 25, and they all make their home with Piers at Mountain Ridge.  Then, there is Padam, another Nepalese young man, whose father died just 2 years ago after falling from the top of a bus.  (We have watched with awe and horror the buses, with men piled on the roof, chugging along the roads ... and have wondered how many accidents occur from such situations.  Apparently, they are all villagers who travel into the towns for daily manual work, and the riders far outnumber the buses available, so the men actually prefer to ride on top than be squished inside!)

Anyway, poor Padam's father was killed in his fall, and Piers took Padam under his wing also.

Now, my curiosity about Piers was really peaked!  We asked what he was doing in Nepal and found the story deepened ...

Piers had bought the Mountain Ridge hill property and built the house in 2006, but Indian laws do not allow a foreigner to own property so it has been listed in a friend's name. Circ7mstances have now changed and he now had a family to care for and wanted to make them his heirs, so he has had to buy similar property in Nepal, and is presently building small guest cottagers there.  When complete he will be forced to sell this gorgeous piece of rural India and move his Nepalese family back with him to their country of birth.

Amrit and Padam speak of Piers in almost hushed tones, such is their love for this man.  There are framed photographs on the sideboard of Amrit and Padam's fathers, and the young family clearly consider Mountain Ridge their home.  Piers has written two books about the rural area for trekkers and other tourists to try to increase visitors to the area, with lavish photographs from his own collection, and the writing is clear, intelligent  and with a folksy tone.  So it's saddening that someone who has done so much for the neglected rural area is forced to leave it ... but, perhaps I don't know the whole story ...


Anyway, it started us thinking seriously about Nepal as a future travel destination - and maybe we'll finally get to meet Piers and hear the full story for ourselves!

To be continued ... (only one more week in India :-(

Parrots and other animals ...

As I sat on our balcony watching the sun rapidly setting behind the surrounding hills, a flock of bright green parrots flew past and landed in the tree below.  What a sight!  Never have I seen such colour flying around me, and in such numbers.  We saw these parrots (which are more the size of a large budgerigar) from the rooftop of our Delhi B&B our very first morning in India, and we have continued seeing their flash of green all the way through Rajasthan. 

As I watched the parrots I thought I saw the distinct wing span of an owl land in another small tree nearby.  Quickly finding the binoculars I discovered that it was indeed an owl, but the smallest one I've seen in the wild. 

Such an array of birds we have seen in India.  Many we do not recognize, and their calls are often loud and tropical sounding.  Their markings are distinctive, and we have often seen a brownish dull looking bird on a branch, but when it spreads it's wings to fly away it's secret beauty is revealed.  Of course, India's star of the bird world is it's national bird, the peacock.  They roam wild here, their call not matching the beauty of their plumage. 

Our guide at the fort yesterday (who talked about way more than just the fort!) told us that Indians live very close to the land and their animals.  This seems to be true, from what we have seen in the rural areas.  The sacred cows wander everywhere and are totally tolerated when they disrupt traffic by laying in the middle of a highway, or ambling down the narrowest alley taking up most of the width of the street.  When we first saw this odd (to us) sight, I snapped pictures quickly.  But, how quickly our eyes become accustomed to new sights!  Now, I only reach for my camera if a cow does something spectacular, like eating the cabbages from a nearby stall (seen in Bundi) or are decorated with flowers to celebrate a festival.  I asked our driver one day if anyone owns these seemingly free cows, and he assured us they did.  But, we could see no obvious markings on most of them.  Most of the cows we've seen here look very well nourished, and our fort guide assured us they are fed by all the locals.  (Indeed, he added that when his mother goes away she calls every night to make sure he is feeding "her" cows!)

Unfortunately, the dogs we see everywhere are not as well looked after.  Just as we saw in Thailand, they all seem to be similar of a generic breed of mid brown in colour and mid-sized.  Also, as in Thailand, they are a sorry sight.  Mangy coats, pitifully skinny, many limping from collisions with traffic, and with rabies rampant in India we keep our distance when we see them snarl and bark hysterically at one another.  Small puppies are everywhere, and each bitch we see has enlarged teats.  It's a sad sight ... but, with a country of one billion people, and an ever-growing population of homeless people, I suppose  the dogs are very low on the priority list.

Camels are a welcome sight pulling their carts along, oxen too, huge black buffalo, wild pigs with long wiry black hair roaming the streets (apparently people cut this hair periodically and use it to make brushes), goats along with their herder ... all these scramble for space on the narrow streets here ... it's amazing, it's all so fabulously alive!

To be continued ...

Vegggies and Cows ...

I've become a vegetarian.  Well, almost, as we have had the odd plate of mutton curry (they call goat mutton here, not sure why) but it's so easy to be vegetarian in India.  Rice is eaten at every meal, even breakfast, and it's amazing how quickly you forget all about cornflakes.  Dal is also a staple.  Dal is made from black or yellow beans and we've had it served in a spicy sauce with the white rice (basmati, of course!)  Together with nan bread it makes a great meal. 

Today we arrived at our hilltop retreat, just outside Udaipur.  We are the only guests in this beautiful stone guest house built literally on a hilltop by a British man named Piers.  I was very much looking forward to meeting Piers, as the emails we exchanged regarding our reservation details indicated a person who loved language and expressed himself with a flourish!  Unfortunately, Piers is presently in Nepal (more about that later), but his 3 adopted Nepalese sons  are doing a great job of looking after us.  From our balcony we look down onto scrub land where about 10 cows are brought each day to graze on whatever they can find.  Their neck bells gently ring as they move from bush to bush.  We watched as 2 young children arrived from a village behind the hill to bring them home for the night.  The cows didn't need much coxing, but gently followed each other along the sandy path - the sound of their bells slowly becoming more faint.  We look out to many high hills, and on top of each is a shrine, which we saw lit up last night, a shining beacon in the night's darkness. It must be quite a climb to get up to them to pray!

We are 20 mins. out of the town of Udaipur, and since I booked this as 3 days of relaxation before the next leg of our Indian journey, we decided to eat all our meals here too.  The fellows cooked us a vegetarian meal this evening consisting of 6 dishes - each of them totally delicious!  There was plain rice, dal, egg curry (despite it's name was wonderful) a curry dish with what they call cheese but I think of as tofu, a dish of lightly cooked mixed vegetables in a curry sauce, and a cold mixed salad of tomatoes and cucumbers.  (The latter was supposed to be a 'starter' but the boys forgot it in the fridge until half way through the meal, and brought it to the table very apologetically!)

I wonder if I can keep this up when we get home?  To me, being vegetarian always seemed like a lot more work than simply slapping a piece of meat on the old BBQ.  But, maybe we'll give it a try ... I might be surprised.



To be continued ...

Rural Rajasthan

Rural Rajasthan is all the positive adjectives you can think of, but good internet connections is not one of them!   I had written the previous blog some time ago, saved it, and whilst in lovely little Bundi I found a small (and I REALLY mean small) internet cafe to send it.  By the time the young boy running the place got the dial-up connection to work, and I had got my flash drive installed into his computer, the connection disappeared!

The young lad wriggled wires trying desparately to get it going again - a passing cow stuck it's head in, and a family of wild pigs looked in too, but the internet would not reconnect.  

We had a real treat last night when we stayed in a 350 year old castle ... honestly, I kept pinching myself!  Our room was like something from Arabian Nights, and our balcony overlooked the small rural village just outside the castle walls, so we had a bird's eye view of the goings on inside all the little farm courtyards.  Saris of all colours hung over the walls to dry, cow and buffalo dung patties laid out to dry in the sun ready to be used for cooking fuel ... we were even treated to the sounds of local school children happily chanting their lessons, then the Muslim call to prayer echoing through the village.

This morning we toured one of the many huge forts built by Maharajahs all over Rajasthan.  Chittaugarh Fort is one of the biggest, and is 5km long, with a 31 km  circumference, a gigantic structure.  Within it's walls the people lived and we had a particularly excellent guide, a jovial fellow, with the typical Rajasthani handle bar mustache and excellent English skills. He made the history of the fort and palace come alive with his stories, and as we stood amongst the ruins of the 700 year old palace we shivered when he showed us where the women and children had all committed suicide on the fires' flames once they knew the battle was lost, rather than be taken captive.  Also, of the nurse who was given the task of caring for the 8 year old Rajput prince, and when word came to her that his uncle was on the way to kill the boy she smuggled him out and put her own son in his place. 

Later, with this resourceful fellow by our side, we joined a group of opium farmers and their families as they enjoyed a meal in one of the fort's open areas.  They had cooked it using buffalo dung as fuel, and happily offered us a taste of their dal and bread - how could I refuse?  It was delicious, and with no after effects!

To be continued ...

Jaipur ... the good and the bad

 

Well, Jaipur was an experience.  Shall I list the negatives or the positives first?  Maybe get the negatives out of the way ...

One can't write about India, it seems, without mentioning the frustrations this country presents to the traveller.  I had read about them, expected them, but it still hits you in the face.  This was the time we really felt like walking $$ signs.  It was dreadful in the tourist places!  Visiting the city palace and fort seemed the 'thing' to do in Jaipur, and Anish drove us there and deposited us at the gate of the palace saying he'd meet us at the top in 2 hours.

I knew about the elephants which carried visitors up the steep slope to the top of the hill where the palace is situated.  There seems to have been some controversy in the past regarding how well these animals are cared for, and since we had already ridden elephants through the jungle in Thailand we decided not to encourage this activity here.  So what happened????  Suddenly, we were assailed on all sides by men loudly shouting "This way for the elephants", and we became hustled along, and before we knew it were sitting together on the very elephant we were not going to ride!!  Such is the force and power of these aggressive men at the tourist spots.

I'm told on your second trip to India you are much more prepared for this ...

The harassments didn't stop there, but I won't go into the details, suffice to say that the elephant mahout demanded a 'tip' and slowed the elephant right down until Ray gave him one ... anyway, we saw the Palace quickly and escaped!

But, the very BEST part of Jaipur was the wonderful family we stayed 3 nights with!  Anil is the owner of the car/driver company we hired from, and it was his home we stayed at in Jaipur.  His wife Asha was a total delight and took me along with her when she went shopping for a new sari - I was blown away by the colours, fabrics and embroidery.  She finally chose a green blue silk with peacocks embroidered all along the edges - it looked stunning!  I wanted to buy some silk fabric at another store she took me to, and there were lots to choose from, but the colours were far too bright for my taste.  Everywhere in Rajasthan the countryside is sandy and barren, brightened only by the vibrant oranges, yellows and reds of the women's saris.  Asha insisted I had to take home some Abstain slippers made from camel hide, so I am now the proud owner of brightly hand embroidered slippers!  I adore the comfortable shamere kameeze outfits she wore every day - comfy wide pleated pants and long top - so I bought some lovely cotton fabrics and her tailor is making 3 outfits for me (at a cost of $17 total!!)  Anil has to drive to Udaipur on Tuesday where we will be staying, so he will deliver them.

Living and eating with the family gave us a window into Indian life far from the tourist haunts we have come to dread.  The family are vegetarians and the food Asha prepared was simple but delicious ... I could quite easily give up steak for a steady diet of this! 

We were sad to say goodbye to these lovely people yesterday, but Bundi awaited, and we so love this small village ... but more about that later.

To be continued ...

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.