Hidrellez Gypsy Festival - Istanbul 5 May 2010

After the Turkish Delights Bellydance festival I was ready to explore Istanbul, having been here for a week and not seen anything outside my taxi window. Moving across town to Taxsim a great pedestrian mall with many fashion stores, cafes and the old tram shuttling people up and down the few kilometre long mall. Every evening thousands of young Istanbul-i's descend to Taxsim to dine in the Melbourne like lane-ways and party in the bars tucked off the main mall.

The mall itself reminds me of La Rambalas in Barcelona. So this was the start to a second dance festival that I signed up to especially to have company when attending the Hidrellez Gypsy festival held every year to celebrate the start of Spring. Apparently in the last two years its become so big that they have moved location to the seaside. So a bus load of us participating in the daily Gypsy dance classes sat patiently in the traffic at 9pm as we worked our way towards the festival. We were really excited as this was the main reason everyone had joined this tour- you could do this on your own but dancing the night away alone just wouldnt be as fun as with a group of crazy bellydancers!

Finally we arrived along with a few thousand other young people from Istanbul - it was held on the seaside just near Sultanhamet the main tourist centre of Istanbul. After experiencing Turkish obediance to road rules (detect the sarcasim) our driver found somewhere to pull over safely for us to all pile out. As we headed towards the seaside park there were young entrepenurs with their van boot open and packed with cartons of the famous Efes Turkish beer.
I wasn't sure if this was going to be a festival filled with locals or tourists - but I'm very happy to say that we the tourists were in the minority. Gypsy women were sitting along the carpark edge selling water, scarfs, beanies, cheesy muscles (no I havent tried them but heard they are yum), loads of Turkish sweets and tea. Being such a large group of around 16 women - 13 being from the same Israeli group it seems natural that we immediately split. Leeann and Karen by new roomie from Holland and our tour guide Alp started scouting out the best gypsy bands.

I was picturing gypsies dancing everywhere which I was kind of disappointed about that we didn't see any, instead there were gypsy musicians roaming the crowds between the big stages showcasing the big acts of the night. The locals would go up to these roving musicians and give them 5/10 lire and request a song. I was pleasently suprised to recognise some tunes from my Gypsy CD's back in Australia thanks to previous workshops with Tanyeli (Turkish bellydancer) and Leonie Sukan (bellydance teacher from Sydney who specialises in Turkish style). We absolutely started burning the dance floor (ok grass and dirt) once these guys would start and they would do one or two songs then stop as the money usually stopped, so they would weave through the crowd looking for someone else to pay them. We were like the gypsies ourselves, weaving the crowd in search of the next group of young Istanbuli's dancing Roman style - cigarette in one hand and Efes beer in the other.
After much stuborness I finally cracked and we bought a huge can of Efes beer each - must have been half a litre in there. Leeann promised me its delicious and my Lonely Planet said its pretty much the only beer in Istanbul and with good reason. Sorry guys it just didnt strike a cord with me.
We kept roaming around and I noticed many of the girls decked out as gypsies either with the skirt, scarf in hair or both. Our tour leader Alp said that years ago Gypies were looked down upon and it wasnt cool to be Gypsy. It seems the young generation are finally showing appreciation for the talented musicians and traditions that they bring to Turkey. Some girls were really stunning and I wanted to take a photo with them but I actually felt uncomfortable asking unlike in India were I clearly stood out and it was a novelty for both them and me to get photos together.

There was like a gypsy side show alley with big pinball machines but they were handmade from wood and papermaiche so not really machines. There were hand painted signs with faces cut out so you could pose with the characters body - there were bellydancers, wrestlers, gypsy caravans etc that you could stick you head into the photo.

One tradition of Hidrellez is to pay (yes you pay to make a wish) 3 lire and you are given a piece of paper, pen, ribbon and pin. On it you write your wishes and pin these along with an evil eye bead onto this tree that is absolutely swamped with everyone's wishes. Yes I made some but no I'm not telling! Everyone was reading other people's wishes which I thought was a little rude but it seemed to be the thing to do. One very clever girl wrote in Turkish (thanks Alp for the interpretation) that she wanted to be able to Turkish Roman dance on stage with a famous Roman singer or dancer I think it was. She listed her mobile number on there and had pre-printed them onto A4 pieces of paper and you found them stuck up everywhere throughout the festival grounds - what a clever girl I hope it comes true for her! (maybe I should adopt this strategy to dance in a Bollywood movie at the next Indian festival that I attend??).

We made our way over to a main stage where a gypsy band was getting ready and there were a few thousand people cramming in. The band started their gypsy tunes and everyone was jumping, dancing, cheering, drinking, smoking and it was definately a meat market between the young boys and girls having a perv on each other. I was very excited when I realised the male singer at one point was singing in Greek with a female Turkish singer - really just reinforced the similarities in music between our two cultures.

We had a brilliant night and I can't wait to come back next year now that I know what to expect - it really is about catching up with friends, having a few drinks to keep warm with the chilly winter nights still lingering, make your wishes and have a Roman dance with the brilliant gypsies. Until next year and include my wish coming true in your prayers! ;)

Will post up more photos of the wishing trees soon.

Next blog.... Istanbul overview.

Turkish Delights - Istanbul Bellydance festival

After a well deserved rest for a month in Singapore it was time to pack my bags again and head off on the next leg of my tour.. Bellydancing in Turkey. Studying Bellydance in Australia for the last decade it had never really been high on my list of places to visit (ironic I know) but I think that has to do with the fact that the Bellydance scene in Australia is very much focused on Egyptian style - hence why I made it my priorty to get there first a few years back.

So after much excitement in getting to Istanbul the cheapest possible route (thanks Air Asia) including hiring a car and using a GPS to guide me 2 hours at midnight after a 14 hour flight and no sleep driving around London and trying not to throw the GPS out the window everytime it had a meltdown when I told it to find an alternative route due to road works AND 1hr 40min sleep at a hotel after this before boarding yet another no frills airline (thanks easyjet for slogging me another 40 GBP for 4kgs extra weight!) I finally arrived at Istanbul airport.

So the excitement continues when the festival organisers are not there to pick me up and my mobile wont roam as the telco promised (thank you Singtel) I'm now so tired and delerious I can feel a cry attack about to happen. Thankfully the hospitality of the Turkish people kicks in straight away when a lady offers to call the organisers on her mobile and helps arrange my transfer to the hotel. The festival organisers kindly paid the bill as I wanted to die when they told me its a 2 hour ride into Istanbul from this airport - waaaaaaaaa!

Im told to follow this young Turkish guy with a funky hair-cut to my shuttle service - after madly trying to keep up with him for our 15 min walk we arrive in a carpark to a Mercedes van with the rear door open and packed with suitcases - how will they get my big a*% bag in there??! Well 4 Turkish guys poked and shoved my bag into the pile and repeatedly tried to slam the boot door closed with no luck. I then interrupted their failed efforts by suggesting a couple of bag swaps and wa-la... yes it takes a woman! (felt like I was watching men change a light bulb). The drive into Istanbul was at break-neck speed and although there are marked lanes on the highway, it appears they are for show as everyone regularly sits in the middle of two lanes and drifts around according to where their mood that moment takes them. Crammed into this van I sat in the back with 5 other Iraqi tourists residing in London. It turns out they visit Turkey and Cyprus every year (lucky them) so they gave me the low down on everything.

I have to say that I was taken back by how modern everything in Istanbul was looking as well as the damn traffic jam we seemed to be travelling. The area that my fellow passengers were staying in was Sultanhamet - a famous tourist spot which has the iconic attractions of Aiga Sophia the Blue Mosque and many other attractions. I had a huge smile come across my face as I saw how pretty this area was - it was a hub of activity with cobble stone streets, beautiful trees, gorgeous manicured gardens with the last bloom of tulips and a mixture of locals and tourists lazying around the garden and wooden seats between the Blue mosque and Aiga Sophia.

After dropping them off my driver followed the road along the water out to the Sheraton were the 5 day bellydance festival was being held. The driver was an old man that couldn't speak any English and when he saw me bopping along in the back to his Turkish pop CD, he turned up the volume and started siginging - he was gorgeous. After stopping and asking for directions several times we arrived at the Sheraton and he kindly carried my bags in for me.

I was greeted by the organisers of the festival who directed me to my neighbouring "Marina Hotel". I checked in and nervously awaited to see who they had buddied me up with since I had asked to share a room. They told me that they had shacked me up with the only other Australian attending the festival - Leeann from Perth. After a mini delirious melt-down on the phone due to my lack of sleep and the terrible room service food that I ordered, in walked my roomate Leeann. Neither of us knew at the time that we would have so much in common and get along so well, she really made my Istanbul festival and stay special. As I have mentioned on my previous blogs, since my travels started this year I feel like I have been followed around by guardian angels protecting me and accompanying me on this trip and I add Leeann to that list.

So it was night one for the festival which meant gala opening night. We were told to dress up a little and head up to the Sheraton for dinner at 7pm followed by the opening gala show at 9pm. I must admit that we were a little disappointed when we arrived at the restaurant to see that we were all mixed in with the general public attending the buffet that evening, so we didnt really know who was there for the festival or not. It is however pretty easy to spot a bellydancer and when I saw a lone brunette with middle eastern eye make-up on, I took a punt went over and asked if we could join her at the table - again who was to know that this would be the start to yet another friendship and turn the three of us into charlies angels of the bellydance world! (ha ha)

So our new friend performs as Hayal in Poland and aside from being very pretty and fitting that stereo-type image of bellydancers, she was a talented performer and damn funny. So the three of us hit it off and after dinner headed into the grand ballroom to wait for the festivities to begin. What we didnt know is that this evening was open to the general public and it was also packed with the local press as this was the first festival of it's kind in Istanbul. It was great to see the locals get behind the event and they rocked up decked out in sexy Istanbul fashions. We were treated to never-ending live performances by Top 40 Turkish singers who also set the fashion trend with their outfits, but disappointed the crowd with their continual miming to their highly synthesised Turkish pop music. One singer however was from Egypt, Ahmet and his voice was live, real and devine - everyone was rocking when he sang and at only 22 years of age, I think Egypt's next Amir Diab is finally here.

So finally after Euro-vision style presenters and ear drum bursting feedback thanks to the sound guys, the bellydancers started performing. We were treated to dances by all the teachers who were on the schedule for the festival - Serkan Tutur, Yasmina of Cairo, Reyhan Tsuzu, Naime, Azi and many more local Turkish, Israeli, Russian and Egyptian teachers/performers. What a brilliant way to kick off the festival! After a super late AM finish (which I admit due to my jet lag I kept falling asleep at the table and had to retreat at midnight before I turned into a pumpkin!).

Next morning was day one of workshops, 4-5 workshops per day if you could take the pain! Considering with my travelling I have not been able to train in dancing as much as usual, my body took to the preassure like a fish to water. I felt alive again and after my first workshop I could feel the old creative juices flowing again. Day one say us be introduced to the Turkish Roman dance style and whilst I have been exposed to this style in Australia from the likes of Leonie Sukan and Tanyeli's workshops, it just never felt like it did here in Istanbul.

Naime taught us 9/8 Roman style to a live drummer, she turned up to teach in black jeans, knee high boots with a heel and a fitted top - not your everyday teaching gear but she looked the part. From the moment she started my heart was on fire, I felt all my tensions that I had bottled up for so long float out the door and my body find a new happy soul-fulfilling rythmn that I felt I had know before and missed for so long. You know when you just click with something as it feels so right - Turkish Roman style feels oh so right. For the entire workshop I looked around at Leeann and Hayan (or Polish as I called her) and we all had a glow, like we were apart of something special. Naime was not a typical teacher used to teaching Western style - instead she spoke no English and counted in Turkish as we played follow the leader.

Another Roman Gypsy teacher was Reyhan Tszu - I have seen youtube clips of her on Oryantal Star many years ago and fell in love with Roman style then - seeing her dance in the flesh was amazing, no one can move their stomach/pelvis like that. The entire class tried so hard to keep up - all we did was feel pain from suddenly stepping up those pelvic floor muscles as we tried to imitate her. I still think she is not human - it was so crazy the entire workshop she was like an energiser bunny with her belly/pelvis move whilst we looked ridiculous in comparison.

Gul was another Roman teacher who had experience teaching Westerners and her English was brilliant. She explained the many different gypsy motions we learnt and what they mean. Gypsy Roman is of the land so many of the steps we learnt were imitating daily life of the gypsies including showing off bangles, washing clothes, the balloon man at carnivals, one-eyed beggars etc

A Doctor/Professor from the Istanbul University of Arts came to teach some of us Karlisama (i may have spelt this wrong) a kind of folkloric dance done at festivals and events by women in pairs. It really reminded me of some of the Greek folk dances I have done. At first we all struggled trying not to get our legs in a knot for this dance and then when the true 9/8 rhythm started we all laughed as no-one kept up at first, but we nailed it by the end of class.

Yousry Sharif was also teaching at the festival and this was my first workshop over the five days. He taught us a fantastic Egyptian style pop piece that we all had fun doing but got a little confused with turns etc.

Serkan Tutur is my new favourite - a male bellydancer from Turkey/Belgium and crowned Male Bellydance of the world in previous years, he has a rare personality that makes him a perfect teacher and entertainer. I believe in the saying that you are either a teacher, performer or choreographer and it's very rare to do all three of these well - Serkan nails it! His teaching style explains the moves, associates actions to help you get the move and even counts steps which seemed a rarity at this festival amongst many of the teachers who preferred to feel the music.

Both workshops of Serkan's that I attended were upbeat routines, great songs and his humour kept us laughing throughout the lesson. Serkan is someone we need to see in Australia/Asia soon.

The crazy thing about the festival which I later learnt is similar to them all is that we started most days at 9.30/10am and had max 15-30min break between workshops right through to 6.30pm then had time to have a shower, scoff dinner and head back up to the ballroom to watch the show that night. Obviously its not humanly possible to sustain this level so lots of people started wagging classes choosing to soak up the Mediterranean winter sun as their body needed rest. Some girls even did only 2 workshops on day one then headed into town to shop!

The bazaar outside the workshops tempted us all with beautiful bellydance costumes but I was very shocked at the prices ranging between 750 - 900 Turkish Lira which is very expensive in comparison to the price you pay for even more elaborate costumes in Cairo. No shopping for me - I have a box of costumes that I'm no longer wearing :(

There were two evenings filled with student performances - I was one of the few that didn't actually perform and this seemed to perplex many people who kept asking why? I had seen it on the initial brochure inviting student performers but I thought since this was my first time I would just enjoy the festival and not have to stress about a costume and performance. Night one seemed to be full of student performances from Japan - we all got the giggles as the MC said "And our next performer is from Japan". I befriended some dancers from the land of the rising sun who were equally shocked at the number of performances from Japan that evening.

The next evening we were overwhelmed with performances from Natalia Beckers girls from Russia - again we got the giggles as the MC repeatedly said "And our next performer is from Russia". Maybe next year they will try mix up the countries? :) Natalia's girls from Russia had stunning costumes which she had designed - using lots of printed silk with circular skirts to compliment the endless turns the girls were doing. The Japanese performances left us a little concerned as to their interpretation of bellydance and what is actually being taught to them. There were some groups which were quiet beautiful, however we found a few resembled a cross between Hi-5 and the Spice Girls with their electro trance bellydance music and outfits.

One festival favourite as Leeann and Polish both know was my friends from Kazaksthan - who would have thought they were even bellydancing there but they are! Rita is a stunning teacher resembling Amena from Lebanon and she wowed us with her gorgeous costume and drum solo standing ontop of a tabla - if I did that it would break and so would my neck! Rita had brought a little entourage with her also which included a brother and sister approx 10 and 5 years - OMG they were too adorable. The little girls whose name escapes me did an amazing Egyptian Baladi style and the boy a saidi routine in a costume that made me think Harry Potter was on stage! They attended the festival with their proud father - watch out bellydance world. Rita had a young 3 month old baby (her body was stunning for giving birth 12 weeks ago!!) Ali was passed around the festival as we took turns babysitting him and I begged Rita to let me take him home!

On the 2nd night as the show drew to a close we hit the dance floor after a few red vinos (or Raki in Miss Polish's case) everyone had gone home and only the festival organisers, some teachers and the sound crew were left behind. One of the sound crew guys started breakdancing which kick-started a night of madness which saw us retreat after 1am and some teachers continuing their partying into the night clubs of Istanbul and as a result late to class the next morning - oops!

One thing I have to say about the festival which really took me and many others who I spoke to by suprise... the community spirit at the festival was alive and strong. It was really beautiful each night to have all the teachers at tables encouraging the student performances and burning the dance floor with us. There were no egos from the teachers, they all really seemed to be enjoying themselves as we were. Also the size in terms of festival participants was just right - I know this is the first year so obviously they will want to increase numbers for next year, but after what I have heard about the Egyptian festivals of over-crowding, pushiness down the front and princess syndrome I really have been turned off attending festivals. The Turkish Delights Istanbul Bellydance festival however really is a pleasent suprise with both teachers and students all being very friendly and social networking was at its best.

Congratulations to Gonul and Simona for a wonderful event that was really worth every cent and really exceeded my expectations. The variety of workshops, their content, the teachers, entertainment, staff and attendees were brilliant. I will be back next year and hopefully we can bring some more Australians along too!

Sponsored child visit

Through World Vision Australia I have been sponsoriıng a child in Southern India for several years. My fiırst trip to India was with the intention to visit her but never eventuated, this time I was determined to meet her so applied to arrange a suitable date. I was excited when it was confirmed, but never actually thought about the impact it would have on me. I decided to leave the visit to the last part of my trip and Im so happy that I made the effort to get there.

I had an early morning start to catch the train to the meetiıng point - bleary eyed and sitting in the dark at 4am at Coimbatore train station waiting and waiting in the spot the young boys from my hotel left me and my bags, it never occurred for me to look up along the platform rather than assume that the train would pull up in front of me. 6am came and went and there was still no sıgn of my train - this is India right? They even post on the train website the average lateness of the particular trains each day so I really didnt think much of it - that was until my World Vision contact text me to see where I am, when I told her the train still hasnt come she told me it had arrıved and they cant see me - thats because I was still at point A! So thankfully they got the driver to drive two hours to get me and drive back :) oops! It appears that the train only had a couple of carriages and was already sitting at the other end of the platform when I arrived so no wonder I never saw it leave.

I was greeted by the World Vision contact outsıde the train station with a lovely bunch of flowers - setting a precedent for the day ahead. We drove for an hour and then stopped for breakfast. In Southern India breakfast in a local restaurant was an experience. We entered - I was of course the only Tourist for miles as we were headed for the Tea Hills of Tamıl Nadu. We sat in the crowded restaurant and instead of a plate they place a rectangular banana leaf on my table. There is the infamous stainless steel cup with water and as I sat with my guides I watched them sprinkle water on the leaf and smooth it down wıth their hand to make it stick to the table, so I followed suit. Then a man comes out carrying 4 steel mini buckets each filled with curry - onto the banana leave they are scooped and then out comes the Thali bread and something like a white dough ball. Everyones eating with their hands as is tradition with me being really the only person to have the curry dripping down my arm. Some of the local women eating recognised the male guide with us and cam to learn who I am etc. It turns out my male guide works on the ground in the village where my sponsored child is from so all the locals know him as he helps them - it was really beautiful to see how much creditability he had with them.

So we kept drivıng for another hour up into the tea hills along windy mountain roads and amazıng greenery. Late 2009 there was a cyclone which caused landslides cuttıng the village off to Coimbatore town. I could still see the damage - lucky there were not many injuries.
So fınally we arrıved to the town centre and I had requested to find a store that I could purchase sports gear for the kids since I couldnt fıt the cricket set and balls I had back in Australia into my bag. Dont thıng of Rebel Sport - it was more like a local store and you couldnt actually wonder through, you had to specify what you wanted and they would bring the selcction to the counter. In the end I bought a few hula hoops and skipping ropes for the kids and was told its best to give sweets to the parents - which to be honest at first I really struggled with because I thought food like rice etc would be more practical for a family in need. But then when I thought about what they were saying, its a cultural thing just like taking along a bottle of wine to someones house when they invite you to dinner or like sweets when visiting the Greek relos.

My heart was racing when they pointed out her village on the mountain side - it was so green and the village was maybe 20 corrogated iron roof and brick homes. When we pulled up at the foot of the stairway leading up iınto the village, all the women and children were waiting at the bottom iıncluding the male village representative to welcome me officially. They placed the red tikka in dust on my forhead and I was given a sweet to eat. I was really suprised by this unexpected attention and found myself choking up. There were so many people and the World Vision representatives introduced me to my sponsor childs parents, sister etc. They lead me up the stairs as I anxiously searched faces trying to work out if any of the little girls around me were infact my sponsor child that just looked different in real life. Then I saw here standing on the stairs up ahead - even more beautiful than her photos and looking much taller and growing into a gorgeous girl. She was holding a flower lei - a traditional welcome gift for all formal occassions in India and beautifully smelliıng from the Jasmine flowers used. I wanted to give her a huge hug and kiss but we both felt awkward as everyone stood there watching us.

I was then lead further up the stairs to her family home a one bedroom and attached kitchen for which my sponsored child, her two sisters and parents live. It was really hot in the room from the iron roof and heat outside oh and the fact that everyone from the village was trying to squeeze into this one room to watch their first ever World Vision visitor. I was given chai and biscuits which I knew was an expensive treat for them to offer to made sure I showed my appreciation. Everyone just stood and stared it was really awkward and all I wanted to do was rumble her and let her know how happy I was to finally meet her face to face. We were both very shy. She looked so much like her mum then so much like her dad - amazing I know!
Then she opened the only cupboard in their home and pulled out a clear bag in which she had every letter I had ever sent her! I was really happy to see that she received these.

I was then taken outside and further up the path to a covered area where th formalities began. A speech from the village elder welcoming and thanking me for the visit. I was then treated to dances by the women from the village and some of the younger girls also. Jasmine flowers were also pinned into my hair so I know looked like a typical Southern Indian girl with my plait.

I presented the children with their community gifts and then was asked to make a speech - wasnt prepared for that one! I really wanted to cry - not because it was sad or that there was poverty, just that I couldnt beleive I was there with her and I finally met her parents. Again I was presented with more flowers and was then taken to another nearby village part of my sponsor childs project to attend their International Womans Day celebrations. I was suprised to learn I was their guest of honour and asked to say some words to the women about IWD - I semi panicked then thought to myself.... Now what would Angelina Jolie say :) More flowers were presented and more chai and biscuits consumed - I was so full!

Ive heard lots of peoples sceptisism about child sponsorship and whether the money actually is spent where it is intended and I can comfortable and honestly say yes it does. Its not to that one child but to her community and as you may have heard educate a women and you educate a village. These women are given access to important health information and the next generation of girls are given a chance to be educated and understand the importance to secure a job rather than just procreate. They learn how to say no to domestic violence and realise they can speak up and protect themselves - that its not acceptable to be tolerated. These projects are educating a whole community on how to create a safer and healthier village for themselves and future generations - they are being given the opportunity to move forward together for a better life for all. After meeting all these wonderful people I am really happy with my decision to support World Vision and will continue to do so. I also learnt that the majority of World Vision sponsors are from Australia and this made me really proud. If you have wondered if it makes a difference my answer is yes - whats 40 dollars per month? There are also many volunteer projects they are keen to welcome Australians to do so check it out and know you are doing something so special not for just one person, but a whole community.

After this beautiful experience there was no better way to conclude my India 2010 trip on such a special high. If you have been thinking about India do it now whilst there are not too many tourists - there are already too many but as people become braver it will become busier and in my opinion loose its authenticity. India is a place I hope to keep visiting for the rest of my life and one day take my own family there.

Next blog.... Singapore

Hardiwar - March 2010

So after "finding" myself in Rishkesh it was time to move further down the Ganges stream to Hardiwar. As I promised myself on that scary bus ride up to Rishikesh, I forked out the 750 ruppees (as opposed to the 10 rupee bus ride) to get my own driver to take me the 1 hour drive back down the hill from the rear of the ashram - rather than carrying that cursed backpack 4kms across rocks and the unstable Ganges bridge. The car was the "Ambassador" its like the Volvo of India I say - not because of the driving but more the fact that they are known as solid tanks that never die!

We took the back mountain road from Rishikesh to Hardiwar and it was really beautiful forest and fresh air - I now was transported to Switzerland :) The road follows the Ganges as it winds its way down to Hardiwar and the water continues with its strong current and crystal blue waters. We even passed a park reserve that is said to home several tigers - like a kid I had my head hanging out the window as we sped past and I was determined to spot a wild tiger - alas no Tigger!

Only our final descent down the last hill into Hardiwar I was taken back by the sight that greated me - thousands of tents just like a refugee city! As I mentioned in my previous blog, my timing was perfect for the major Kumbah Melah festival! After my last post quiet a few people asked me what this Kumbah Melah is all about as you had seen some mention on the news of the worlds largest gathering of Hindu pilgrims - sorry I haven't gotten back to you sooner but here's the low-down on Kumbah Melah 2010. So every 6 years there is what is called the "Ardh Kumbh Mela" - at the last one held in 2007 there was apparently 17 million pilgrims who rocked up for this - yes 17 MILLION Hindus!!! So every 9 or 10 years there is what is known as the "Maha Kumbah Mela" (great one) - the last was held in 2001 and attracted 60MILLION Hindu pilgrims - making it the largest gathering in the world according to Wikipeadia! So this is what I was walking into - :) My sister says she hates crowds so I guess she wont feel like she missed out on not attending this one hey?!

The deal is that is is held over a few months- this time it was Jan - April and by the time I reached Hardiwar 40 million people had already passed through! It works on auspicious bathing dates so they are the ones to avoid and I missed it by 3 days so the crowds were still pretty strong. Apparently its held at different locations according to the position of Jupiter and the Sun and is considered the most sacred of all pilgrimages for a Hindu to attend. The thing I was most scared of was the 000's of naked Sadhu's I had been warned to steer clear of - and I mean naked. I saw a few and they kindly bent over in front of me to take a dip in the ganges - thanks for the view!

I think I was really lucky as to me it felt like any other populated Indian city but with a few extra naked sadhu's running around. I stayed at the Hotel Jewel pretty much 2 blocks from the train station - I think they forgot my booking as he quickly went to make my room whilst I waited outside and I so loved the old soap from the previous guest in the shower, dirty floors and need I mention the toilet! Thankfully being a germophobe stuck in India I had my Pine O Cleen wipes - thanks mum - so I got to work and cleaned everything. Oh and I had to tie my sari up in the bathroom window because the staff would sit there for a smoke and could look right in and see me on the loo and in the shower - nice but that's India for $30 actually I think I was getting ripped! Best ever AC and jet powered fan though and of course a TV with all my favourite bollywood tunes - yeah!

After dumping my stuff I was famished and decided to brave the crowds and look for this Big Ben restaurant that I saw down the street and recalled Lonely Planet recommends. Yes I agree it was brilliant to sit in AC comfort in a a fishbowl and watch the world go by, but they too looked back at me and you could see them comment how many foreigners were all in the same location - time to go!

Just before sunset I took a cycle rickshaw down to the main ghat where the major Aarti ceremony was taking place that night. The city was in military lockdown everywhere as there were just too many people to control. My cycle rickshaw was only allowed to drop me around 2km from the ghat so I had to walk the rest of the way, but there were so many people I just followed the crowd. The second I stepped down to the ghat there was just so much to see - I really was like a kid in a candy store and was going "snap Jap haapy". My senses were peaking so I decided the best thing I could do was find a step on the ghat amongst some of the pilgrims and watch the people parade. Wow I could have sat there for days!!!! Where to look.... the amazing sunset, the pilgrims placing their offering of flowers and candle as it floats with the current down the ganges, the slum kids in the ganges who tie themselves to the railing so the current dosent pull them down stream whilst they hold a pane of glass and place this at the top of the water looking for valuable offerings that they can take back out of the Ganges!

Let me tell you about this crazy scene... a man walks down to the stairs of the ghat says a prayer and throws a roll of Indian Rupees that he has "cleverly" wrapped in a piece of leather and tied twine around the roll of cash - he finishes his prayer and throws it into the Ganges!! We are talking a poor country with this guy throwing cashin into the Ganges as an offering - its humbling but mind blowing at the same time, especially considering two minutes early two men said a prayer and threw in a 100 rupee note and those kids with the magnifiying glass.... he dives in and fetches it in front of the guy!!! As you might have guessed the Indian guy chased him and clipped him one across the head, cursed him, said a prayer and threw it back into the Ganges whilst glaring at the kid to make sure he didn't do it again!!!

As sunset was fast approaching I decided to stroll further up along the river to work out where the Aarti would be held - easy enough just look for the 000's of people already parking themselves for prime position. Security was getting everyone to pack up like sardines and sit rather than stand - all a little to claustrophobic at that moment for me so I kept strolling. All sorts of preparations were taking place kind of like the absolutions a Muslim does before prayer - that's what appeared was happening. Parents had their babies held down by relatives as a barber seated on a flattened cardboard box on the floor with this super sharp blade shaved the babies head - as you can imagine the babies are screaming their heads off. Men were also sitting cross-legged on flattened boxes getting haircuts, trimmed moustaches and faces shaved - these were not barber stalls my understanding is that it was all their "cleansing" ritual before taking the holy dip. The barbers and flower offering sellers were making a roaring trade! There were even children roaming the crowds selling plastic sheets to sit on, but wait these sheets are taken from the printing machines of food factories - I saw Maggi noodles, CC's - all those foil packets before they are made into packets and are still part of the sheets from press - cracked me up!

As more people appeared to be descending onto the ghat for the start of the Aarti, I decided it was time to scout for my spot and take rest, thing was I really didnt want to sit just incase there was a surge and I got trampled on or if I did start feeling claustrophobic, then I could make an easy exit. See that's the problem right there, the word easy! This is India, nothing is easy :)

(OK delicious sweets and curries are!) So I found my spot where it appeared those around me didnt want to sit either - perfect. Ten minutes later the "Aarti police" as I called them in their official blue uniforms and "donation" book came and screamed at us telling us to sit, so reluctantly we did.

So this Aarti police... I had read that if you want to give a donation you give it to them and they give you a receipt, rather than encouraging begging etc. Except if the charity collectors in Australia adopted the Aarti polices collection methods, I think charities would be rich, rich, rich! Let me set the scene... so they get you to sit so no-one can move, you are trapped and thoughts of using the toilet is not an option, then they have you so they start pacing back and forth like an army general barking orders that as a pilgrim you should be making a donation, what kind of Hindu dosent support the organisation that pulls this together and allows this event to take place, 5 rupees - you cant afford 5 rupees?! This abuse seriously went on for an hour and it was happening throughout the crowds - there were several of these guys tag-teaming so just as you sighed releif that the headache was leaving the next guy came over and started and if you caved and gave money you were a national hero. My head killed and based on principle of how they were doing this I made sure I made no eye contact and refused the "donation under interrogation" (im so making a heap of t-shirts with all these sayings!)

Aside from my migraine, I became aware of a Indian man just behind me on my left who couldn't seem to stop staring at me and every little photo I took - more on him later though.

So the Aarti was finally starting and it was like they had just opened a new slide at Wet n Wild on the Gold Coast! People go into the Ganges for dip - men in their undies, women in their saaris and Sadhus some naked but most in their Sumo style g-string! The bells started ringing and two men holding a brass burner with huge flames blessed the crowds - the heat from the flames so bad there was a nominated guy there with a bucket of water to keep pouring onto the burner holders hands and face so I'm assuming he felt less pain! Some families took their children or elderly to the priests for blessings and then it was all over just like that! Being non-Hindu, I definately enjoyed the spectacle in the lead up to the Aarti more.

So back to my friend behind me, peering over my should- ok so he wanted to look at my photos or was he eyeing off my camera? So as the crowds got up and I took the emergency brace position from any wondering hands that see a foreign girl and like to grope - luckily I managed my second crowd incident free (Jaipur was obviously my friends faults for being blonde and blue eyed! ;) So as I start to move with the crowd this guy and his friend start following me, I know because I did the mandatory Hollywood weave and chase technique - around the corner and they were right behind me again. So usually all you have to do is turn, look them in the eye so they know they have been spotted and being embarressed they leave you alone - not the case with stupid and his friend. Second time I raised my voice so everyone around would hear and see - they back off a little but catch up later. This went on for 10-15 min and my patience was out so I stormed up to a policeman who was standing next to the military guys, grabbed his stick, turned raised it and my cursing voice to the two stupids behind me and boy you should have seen their faces! Actually mine would have been interesting too because I didn't even know what I was doing until it was too late - the police and solider jumped at me then saw the two guys I was aiming at and they took over my cursing for me. I apologised profously to the police man and gave him back his stick - they couldn't stop laughing at the crazy foreign woman that just lost it. Needless to say I didnt see those guys for the rest of the night. After that I strolled around the bazaar, ate some dhal and rice at an over-priced AC franchise that looked like an Indian version of McDonalds. I headed back down here the next day in the daylight to take some last pictures and send off a little prayer of my own down the ganges. So when the publish the final headcount of Kumbah Mehla 2010 you can include me :)

Next blog Hardiwar to Dehli on the toot toot.....

Rishikesh, India - March 2010

So this town was never on my original plans to travel too and to be honest until I read an article about the Kumbah Mela in nearby Hardiwar around the time I was to be in Amritsar, I had never even heard of either place. Again my trusty old Lonely Planet filled me in on how to get there and that it's littered with ashrams, yogis, sadhu's and people wanting to "find themself". As I said on a postcard to mum - I dont think I will ever find myself as I have too many personalities to find! :)

So checking into Niketan Ashram that I had found in my Lonely Planet and researched their very comprehensive website. The site states that everyone is allowed to stay at the Ashram but you must follow the rules and make a donation. Thing is that their "donation" comes at a set minimum amount of 500 rupees per nite. That's fine just dont call it a donation!

I was greeted by a friendly older Indian lady and young Indian guy on the front desk. As I mentioned in my previous post I was already exhausted from what seemed like the never-ending journey getting there. After paying upfront, the young boy wheeled my bag over to the sleeping quarters. I remembered it said on their website that under no circumstances are you to tip anyone working there, you can make an official donation at the desk and be issued with a receipt instead, so I was relieved that this was one of the few times in India that someone was helping me with my bag and not expecting payment.

Now if you are like me, I always wondered what an Ashram would look like? Honestly I pictured a heap of Hare Krishna's floating around in orange robes clanging their finger cymbols away (I actually love them so am not taking the mickey out of them too much!) but instead you are confronted with something that felt more like a university campus - in the sense that the grounds where quiet spread out, there was military security, lots of communal meeting rooms, park benches and beautiful gardens. Unfortunately for my timing there was a heap of pavement construction during my stay so it didnt seem quiet so tranquil in the gardens as I tried to tip-toe through setting concrete without splashing it on my new white yoga pants - failed! - they were covered within 3 minutes of putting them on!

So I really didnt know what to expect with my room - I was expecting basic and I thought its more dormitory sleeping that anything, however there were blocks of units that had their own show and toilet and 2 single beds. It was infact very spacious, had a locking cupboard and the worlds noisiest fan instead of AC but it wasn't needed so that's fine. My showers hot water system never gave me the luxury of a hot shower during my stay - needless to say I conserved great amounts of water there.

I dumped my stuff and filled my empty water bottle with the complimentary filtered water at the end of my corridor - again more excitement as this is the only stay so far in India that I have not been buying 3-4 bottles of water per day! I checked the schedule as the main purpose you come to an ashram is to relax, find yourself, attend meditations and yoga sessions. There was a yoga class on in a couple of hours, followed by lunch at 1pm - if you dont like routine then ashram's are not a place you come. A typical day at the Ashram is:

6am yoga

8am breakfast

11am yoga

1pm lunch

3pm yoga

6pm arti ceremony

7pm dinner

8pm meditation

I managed to find a store selling cheap white clothes for yoga - I later discovered the pants where Indian pyjama pants hence the sideways glances and giggles from Indian ladies in shops around Rishikesh. Yoga class was interesting to say the least - the ashram instructions were quiet specific about not being late and wearing white, so I was a little nervous that I was 5 minutes late already. I managed to find the yoga hall in the huge grounds of the ashram and had to creak the door open and sneak in. I was really suprised and honestly disappointed to see that the yoga class was being taught by a Canadian women clearly not of Indian decent - not to mention she was wearing a white turban with a diamond clip on the front. After managing mentally to get past that came the struggle that rather than the usual soothing vocal tones of a yoga instructor, this teacher seemed hell bent on making this class more like a yoga bootcamp and was yelling instructions and "motivational" comments similar to that of the U.S. army - not exactly what I had in mind. I had never ever experienced a class like this at all - I later learnt this was Kundalini yoga and started to see many of the students that follow this style around Rishikesh - all foreigners wearing blue kaftan uniforms with a Seikh looking logo and turbans - I was really disturbed by this and felt I'd come across some new cult wiping the states and surrounding countries.

I must say that aside from the students of this style and their strange uniforms that resemble the guards of the Golden Temple at Amritsar - Kundalini yoga really seemed to have some benefits. It felt like it was infused with some Pilates poses so my abs were actually getting a work out - I just didn't like the yelling in the background by the instructor and the weird chants I had to repeat at some points.

In the middle of my class I happened to be facing the student to my left and realised that I knew her from the dance school in Pushkar as we had regularly seen each other and said hi in passing. She caught my eye and we shot each other a smile, after class we spoke and I was relived to know that she too didn't appreciate the teachers boot camp style instruction.

When you are travelling alone for long periods in a foreign country and particularly somewhere like India, a new friend can really affect the daily happenings of your trip. For example, my intention after that class had been to eat lunch at the Ashram since it was included in the room fee and then just crash as I was exhausted. Instead my new friend convinced me that the lunch at the Ashram wasn't all that nice and she was rebelling against their strict schedule of you must eat at this time. Instead she took me to a little restaurant nearby that specialised in delicious and so cheaply priced Southern Indian cuisine and then she took me on a tour of Rishikesh that extended into a 4 hour expidition across to the otherside which was a few kilometer's good walk, that I simple would not have had the motivation to do on my own that day.

What amazes me about Rishikesh and it was certainly the first thing that caught my attention, is the blue and clean looking water of the Ganges and the strong current that it flows. There's a brilliant BBC documentary on the Ganges that I saw back in Australia and I do remember them showing footage of the flowing Ganges from Rishikesh but you just dont realise its power until you are there. We found lots of people and bathing Sadhu's along the riverbank resting on the boulders, so we decided to soak up some of the beautiful sun and mountain fresh air alongside Mother Ganga as they call her. I had read to reconsider swimming in the Ganges as the current was super strong and dangerous, so I just settled for rolling up my pants and walking in knee deep - it was chilly and so "norsca fresh" as I called it. I washed my face and felt suddenly relaxed.

Now I'm sure that many of you have head about how dirty the Ganges is particularly in pilgrimage areas such as Varanasi, bodies of the deceased are cremated and their ashes are deposited into the river. Let me assure you that is not the case up here - Rishikesh is near the start of the Ganges so it's super clean and I would consider swimming there had it not been for the current. There is actually a big tourist trade happening in Rishikesh now with people white water rafting - that's not something I had ever been interested in the past, throwing my life in the hands of the rapids just dosent excite me as much as a stroll through the bazaars of India - but I considered it here. If I had more time I probably would have done a rapids tour and also trekked into the Himalayas as there were quiet a few tours starting from here - again something that had never interested me previously and something that I had reserved for hardcore adventurers - maybe I was finding myself or at least opening up to new opportunities!

In front of the Niketan ashram that I was staying at every evening at 6pm they perform what is known by the Hindus as "aarti" its a ceremony using fire and I personally think at its grandest in Varanasi. Being my first night I went down for a wonder and there were many Indian pilgrims who had obviously come to Rishikesh to take part in this ceremony at such a holy site. Some people told me that many of the Hindu visitors attending the Kumbah Mela back in Hardiwar were coming to Rishikesh for a day trip and to attend the ceremony also since they were so close.

At dinner that evening I had my first experience eating at the Ashram - nothing too exciting to report just felt like an American high school cafeteria - there was table spread with vegetarian dishes - you took a metal dish and a scoop of each and sat quietly on the floor at these little individual almost TV dinner tables but they were on the floor. There is a big sign in the room saying to observe silence during dinner as all food has been blessed etc but neither tourists or Indian pilgrims paid any attention.

I noticed one lady who had been in my yoga class earlier that day and she was one of those people that do something and go all the way. What I mean is, watching her you could see that she was there definately to find herself spiritually and by the looks of it she had - well at least she seemed to beleive she had. At dinner she was probably the only one who sat in silence and prayed before eating and I felt at any minute she may gravitate into the air from her seated pose on the floor. I know I'm mean - if she was Indian I wouldn't even have noticed, but she just seemed to be trying so hard to do the whole ashram thing.

After dinner we attended the meditation - to both our dismay it was the same boot camp instructor - I considered making a run for it, but thought I would attempt an open mind and see where it took me. So again I found myself chanting something that certainly didn' t sound Hindi - it sounded like a fictional language like they made for Lord of the Rings - only the people in the "circle of trust" seemed to know the words to the jibber. We did all sorts of breathing exercises which I will admit were quiet good, it was the sound effects that I could see a few people about to crack up laughing. We did one chant for about 10 minutes, over and over it sounded something like (change your tone to a deep monster like pitch)...

"mmmmmm jiiiiiiyyyaaaaaaa shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr froooooaaaaaaawwwwww cha. Chinnnnnyyyyy maaaaaaaaaaaaa diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiyava..."

I felt like I was on magic mushrooms. Finally my one hour of vocal vibrational massage as I called it was over and my friend and I along with a few of the other ladies all shot each other knowing glances of what we had just survived. Being me, I couldn't shut up any longer and told my friend how the teachers meditation voice reminded me of this evil sounded monster voice I was awoken to in Padang Bai on the East coast of Bali at 4am when they were starting a prayer ceremony mimicking the gods. Meditation complete!

Of course on my last day there we did manage to find a brilliant yoga class at an Ashram down the street from ours - brilliant is an understatement - I keep thinking about heading back in September just to attend his class. This class was taught by an Indian guy -not so personable, but his class was packed and he was brilliant. He unlike Bootcamp master of Kundalini, had a soothing voice that I had to strain to hear and all of us just pretty much played Simon Says to know what move to do next. Granted this class was also Hatha yoga, which I was more familiar with and found both relaxing and effective. We were doing backbends and moves that I was doing for fun as a kid and never imagined my body could still do so many years later. Oh and did I mention this class along with all the flies that attached themselves to our everymove only cost $2.50!

To describe Rishikesh, I would say it reminded me of Kathmandu minus the madness - more "norsca fresh". The town had more Sadhu's than normal as many of there were again there due to the nearby Kumbah Mela. To be honest I have only ever seen Sadhu's beg tourists for money, so I was very suprised when it was either one morning or afternoon I saw many Indian Hindu's buying food and going along distributing it to the various Sadhu's in equal rations - made me kind of feel bad for always looking past there money as purely a target for tourists.

Next blog.... Hardiwar and the Kumbah Mela 2010 pilgrimage!

Travelling Amritsar to Rishikesh - India March 2010

At the train station for my late night departure from Amritsar to Hardiwar then onward to Rishikesh, there was the usual scene of transitors or perhaps some homeless people sleeping on the platform concrete floors with grey blankets, endless families of all castes and their children eating and drinking hot chai waiting for the train. Amritsar station didn't have any tvs blaring the latest Bollywood filmclips, so I was a little bored. After an hour of staring at the the rats running a muck in and out of various holes in the platform walls and the local store guy throw his store's rubbish onto the train track my train finally arrived.



Another goods night sleep from the rocking of the train and befriending yet more locals and answering their 50 million questions about "what is your good name?" "Which is your place?" "Are you married with children?" "Who is travelling with you?" pick a lie, any lie - that is always my answer - never say as a woman you are travelling alone, never confirm where you are staying, you are always married and your husband is always going to be waiting at the next station for you as he was there on business and you are on holidays :)


So I arrived into Hardiwar and knew that my mission was to find the bus station to take a public bus 1 hour up to Rishikesh - Yoga capital of the world and where the Beatles shacked up and smoked god knows what for one of their albums.

Thing was Kumbah Mela was one - I thought if I came outside the auspicious bathing dates it was be quiet - ha ha ha. I arrived to full military force absolutely everywhere, Sadhu's absolutely everywhere and just masses of people. Thankfully there were also ramps everywhere so I could wheel my bag around and try fake confidence that I knew where I was going. When lost, my bet is always military as there are always being watched and it just feels safer to ask them for help. So of course being the only foreigner in sight amongst a sea of Hindu pilgrims here for a festival that takes place once every 10 years (yes I am special or stupid one of the two) I had all eyes on me, not to mention all touts swarming my way for "rickshaw" "hotel" "tour guide" I confidently brushed them all aside and once they disappeared I approached a soldier and asked him for directions to the bus station to Rishikesh - using his gun to motion me out the gates and "5min walk" away I continued thinking to myself this is India - ask at least 3 people - so another couple of soldiers confirmed his direction was correct but I would have to get a rickshaw to the bus station and it should be only 25 rupees - problem I am a foreigner and I get a special tourist price.

So I kept rolling along their footpath past the info booths for Kumbah Mela registrations and found me a rickshaw guy - there were none to be seen at first but I decided to roll in the direction along the main road (not as suicidal as it sounds) and hopefully one will pull up along side me - sure enough one did but he wants 250 rupee (remember its 25) so I laughed and with a determined look on my face that I didn't care if I had to walk the how many ever kilometers to the bus off I set - he caved and agreed to 25 ruppee :)

Literally it was a 5 min ride down the street and he pointed at a old silver bus that was starting to pull out from the curb bound for Rishikesh. I ran over and tried to get on the bus but the steps were so high I couldn't lift my bag up and no-one around me inteded to help. I felt something in my back ping and I lost my balance as the bus driver lost patience and pulled away - I banged the door and yelled out hoping to grab the attenion of someone nice on the bus and luckily and ancient man who didnt look like he could lift a pen, let alone my bag got the bus to stop and pulled me and my bag aboard. Luckily there was a seat left a couple back from the door and I had my bag in the corridor. Now let me explain this "bus" to you - once upon a time I am sure it was a fine machine but this aged tin box with wheels belonged in a metal scrap heap! It grunted for the entire hour and our hair-raising experience is made all the while worse with both the neck braking speed of the driver, the cursed look from the conductor that he couldnt fit on more passengers due to my bag blocking their way and the need for all my fellow passengers (most Sadhu's or extremly poor villagers) keeping the windows closed and these windows painted blue, orange or red - I decided in the end that was a good thing that I couldnt look out as I might have been sick.

They continued to cram more people on and my bag was being pushed further down the aisle with my little old stick man determined to stick up for me and hold onto my back which everyone is really kicking to get past. The speed that we travelled for that one hour up the windy mountain roads to Rishikesh made me keep having flashes to all those buses that fly off the cliffs in South America killing hundreds of people - I was definately in panic mode for the entire 60 minutes and constantly working out how I would get through the emergency window fighting all these men as we submerged into the ganges.


Finally we arrived in Rishikesh and I promised myself that regardless of how much the trip back down to Hardiwar was - I was paying coming back. My life was worth more than 40 rupee. So the bus station in Rishikesh is just a dirt carpark at the back of town - a few rickshaw drivers are there and no-one else around so your bargaining dosent get you too far. I was also informed that he could only take me so far to my Ashram as apparently rickshaws cant cross the bridge - I just agreed because I was mentally and physically exhausted. Along the way my rickshaw driver saw another tourist and decided to pick him up without asking me - I was annoyed as I knew he was making double the money when we should be paying the share amount, but in the end this driver did me a huge favour picking up this guy - again another guardian angel to help me out.


So the driver pulls up and says the other tourist is going the same way as me and will show me where the ashram is. I reluctantly agree and rip my bag as I try to pull it out from the back of the rickshaw.

I must say and this is rather ironic, typically when I travel I'm not into talking to other travellers, usually only the locals which is silly I know as I could get tips from them but I think I have seen too many tourists behave appallingly so I think its better to avoid them then be associated with them. Turns out, he was a Jewish American writer/hippy that had been in Rishikesh for the last 3 months writing a book on social behaviour for kids back in America - personally I think he had too much pot or fresh mountain air! But hey this guy was a lie saver - I thought the ashram was a simple walk across the street - try 3-4km along a rocky path (which meant he kindly helped carry my bag as I couldnt roll it), up 2 flights of stairs and then across the most scary unstable metal plank bridge floating on these balloons in a rapid flowing ganges!!!
It was the craziest walk ever and I cant beleive that the rickshaw driver was just going to dump me there and point me in the general direction! I never would have walked that way alone towards a river with no-one around - let alone across it. Once across the ganges his ashram was right there but he assured me that mine was a further 5 min walk straight ahead then right at the Shiva statute. Thankfully he was right but to be honest it had been so mentally exhausting to get this far I felt like throwing my bag in the ganges by then and sitting on the floor next to the sadhu's and crying! I knew I was close so persisted then finally after the help of yet another soldier I found the entrance the the Niketan Ashram.

Next blog..Rishikesh and the yoga madness.

Train Hardiwar to Dehli - March 2010

After some of the most unexpected peaceful days in Rishikesh and Hardiwar it was time to bid farewell and make my way onto yet another overnight train - except excitedly this would be my first overnighter in India travelling 1st class. Can't say that it was what I expected or that I felt any safer than 2nd class - I managed to workout the main difference between the two classes being that in 1st class there is a door and curtain to the cabin of 4 beds.


As I keep saying I seem to have little angels on this trip helping me out when it comes to getting on and off trains, planes, buses etc and this trip was no different. For some reason my train confirmation ticket that I printed off the Indian train site didnt have my seat or carriage number, only that I was first class. Oh let me get off track for one minute... so the train arrives and I walk over to one of the first class doors and patiently qeue along with the rest of the travellers. It's nearly my turn to board the train and a Indian English speaking lady and her family behind me decide to yell out to the tall foreigner down the front and inform me that I can actually board at the other door. Now before you think she was helping me out to enter through a special foreigner door, let it be known that there is no such thing this was an unfortunate display of rude manners that I have encountered time and again with some Indians who will just give it a go to see if they can get me out of there way and get where they need to go faster. Ha! Crap to be her because I knew what she was hoping to acheive so I politely smiled and said "no thank you but I am fine to enter through this door" I was quiet proud of my restraint as in my mind I was visioning a snap attack and lecture on people like her thinking foreigners are stupid - but I breathed and remembered this is all part of the expereience and not to let a few rotten apples rock me.


So boarding the carriage a young boy in uniform helped lift my bag up into the train along with this rather large Punjabi guy sporting enough gold to sink the Titanic. So the young boy went above and beyond anything that is expected of his job and franticallyt tried to work out my carriage and seat number as he hauled my big bag along and flicked on all the cabin lights much to the disgust of other travellers in mid sleep, so I quickly followed behind him turning all the lights off and apologising profously to all the angry travellers whose obviously much needed beauty sleep we were interuppting :)


Finally we came to my cabin - of course it was the first one we walked past but the last that we checked. He pulled aside the curtain and switched on the light - waking the lone Indian sleeping in the lower bed. Again I climbed over my bag apologising that we woke him and in British English the man says its no problem. There were nowhere to store my huge back pack so he agreed to let me leave it beside his bed since I was sleeping on the upper bed opposite him. I settled in with my trusty reading light and Three Cups of Tea book and the man in our pitch dark AC carriage asked where I was from etc. Over the course of the next 30 min I learn that he is a Officier in the Army heading home to see his wife and children which he only gets to do 6 times per year. He was very sweet and I was feeling safe already to have him in my carriage. It turned out that the only other person sleeping in our room of 4 was the gold clad Punjabi guy whose snores played its own Bhangra hits!!! For our early morning arrival into Dehli the Army Officer was already awake with his bedsheets folded and shoes on - sure sign they are military. He had ordered me a chai and we sat there talking about his service with the Indian army and conflict with Pakistan which as many people close to me know is a great area of interest and of course my ears shot up when he mentioned his time in Afghanistan and work with the US military to build schools - I excitedly told him that the book I was currently reading was all about that and I wish for nothing more than that I could go and work with the schools there in the mountains - he obviously agreed that a sole female traveller into these areas was certainly not adviseable.

So after his suggestion that I look for the prepaid auto stand at Dehli station I employed the services of yet another porter to carry my bag through the crowds to the stand - his added benefit was that he fights off all the touts on the platform trying to offer me a overpriced taxi to my destination of choice. He was a happy guy saying Tuk tuk as clearly this was one of the few words some other tourists had called their "auto rickshaws" I paid for my rickshaw which was 65 rupee and went to pay him - he wanted 100 rupee and claimed he was poor and my bag was really heavy - one of the few times I caved was with this guy and told him he was more expensive than my rickshaw and that the only reason he was getting it was because he cracked me up with his tuk tuk commentary - no doubt every tourist arriving into Dehli train station should thank me for their barage of Tuk Tuk words from this guy :)

So I only had the day in Dehli as I was getting a 3pm flight to Chennai - I decided it was time for a pamper after 2 months in India and made my way to the Oberoi - the most expensive hotel in Dehli for a much deserved visit to the spa :) I think I fall into this new category of travellers - not quiet backpacker but definately not affording 5 star hotels. My rickshaw pulled up at the gates of the Oberoi where for image purposes a rickshaw is not allowed up the driveway, so there's me rolling my big ass backpack up the long driveway to the confusion of the security and doorboys who are thinking that surely I could not afford to be staying there. I quickly confirmed their thoughts and said I would need to lock my bags up for the day as I was visiting the spa and having breakfast. I made my way to the restaurant now keep in mind I have been dressed like a Indian for 2 months, am wearing anklets that ring bells with everystep and walk into a 5 star restaurant packed with white collars staying for business. Needless to say their heads all turn and the staff usher me to the quietest part of the room - the out of sight thing I think was happening! So I decided that 500 rupee for a 5 star buffet was just what I needed and went to town on pastries, fruit, bottomless cups of chai (the staff smirked that I refused the english breakfast and insisted on Masala chai) I used the bathroom at the Oberoi and let me tell you I was considering asking management if I could pay to stay in one of the cubicles - a massive step up from my accomodation in parts of India! Once the pamper was over I caught a taxi sitting in Dehli's disgusting traffic to the airport - Sydney is nothing in comparison. At the airport considering my bags were full I swore not to shop and only to look - automatic jinx deployed.... I found a DVD and CD store packed with all the Bollywood goodies I dream of at around $2 each!!!! I dragged myself out of the store determined not to cave and watched some financial news instead - 5 min before I was due to board I realised that I should just buying it all as I will only be paying 10 times the price once I get home, so I was just about to head back when they called me for boarding grrrrrrrr I still regret not buying and am swearing to myself that I will shop next time.


Next blog... Coimbatore and the mission to meet my sponsor child in Tamil Nadu.