Transit fun London to Marrakech - May 2010

After missing my connecting transfer bus between Gatwick to Luton airports in London - I sat in the freezing cold for two hours waiting and willing the arrival of the next National Express bus. Finally it arrived and I failed to thaw the entire 2 hour trip to Luton, so a "grande tea" was the first thing I ordered at 2am when I arrived and sat on the airport floor in a quiet corner to repack my bag into the mandatory 15kg's per bag - I needed two! Then I decided I was warm enough to sleep sitting in a upright position at a cafe table -my forehead down on the table. yes I did have a hotel room booked and paid in full, but as I missed my bus and would be in there for a 1.5hr sleep max then needed to find a taxi to the airport at 3.30am, it seemed pointless.

I was not the only mad woman sleeping at the airport - one guy pulled three cafe chairs together and lay on them looking like it was a make-shift coffin! Finally they opended for check-in at 3.30am - only me in the queue and thankfully no dramas for a change with my baggage!

After this I headed over to the cattle queue - security screening what a pain in the rear it is in the UK! And get this you know those 20cent machines as a kid you would get a toy from? Well Luton airport is using these to distribute or should I say sell the clear plastic bags that you are required to place all liqiuds in for 1 pound a bag!! Yes its big business at Luton airport!

Boarding my first ever Ryanair flight I was a little nervous and if the boarding process was a sure sign I knew this was going to be fun. After taking our boarding passes they made us stand outside in the freezing cold for another 10 minutes before we could walk across the tarmac to board the plane. Now I'm not a plane snob but... there was no net on the seat infront to hold your magazines ;) seriously it was like the plane was naked without it and so they paste the emergency landing card as a sticker on the seat infront and all inflatable life jackets are stowed overhead. I was later informed that there are apparently not enough for everyone but I'm not beleiving that or perhaps I just dont want to. Oh and did I mention the tragic fashion of the air hostess who was in her late twenties up close but from a distance I thought she was in her 50's with the ugliest blue jacket I have ever seen and a kill me now bob haircut. And her voice was equally irritating especially for a 6am flight - so high pitched I thought she was speaking in Dutch! Admitedlly the flight was ok but the seats and the plane just felt wrong - it probably was also exasperated by the fact I hadnt really slept since leaving Athens oh so many hours ago.

My flight was packed with English tourists going to Marrakech for the weekend- can you imagine??? Seriously Australians have lucked out in that department, we may have some beautiful weather and beaches but why cant we all just paddle the country up to sit in the Mediterranian?? :)

So touch down in Marrakech airport - passport control was soooo painfully long - just on 45minutes. I came out finally looking for my driver as the hotel had promised and no one to be found holding a sign with anything that may have resembled my name, so it was off to the taxi rank for a bit of an adventure. Now Lonely Planet says to tell them to use the meter - have you tried to tell a donkey to dance on command? So my taxi driver laughed and said no no no no - I contemplated opening the boot myself but was so tired at this point that I knew it was time to submit to the taxi gods and pay them an honour fee - 200 dirhams for what should have been 50 dirhams - nice one Kat!

Driving towards the Medina (walled city) I was suprised to see how modern the streets were - at least I'm honest. I was really expecting the city to be like Cairo but in my opinion it's far more modern. Everywhere I looked football (soccer) seems to be the sport of choice for the young Moroccan boys and men and this was a scene that greeted me the whole drive into town.

The houses on the outskirts are concrete blocks that remind me of the Meriton apartment complexes at Moore Park in Sydney - obviously not so glam.

After around 10min of driving, my taxi pulls up infront of a crazy scene of buses, taxi's, street vendors, pedestrians and of course donkey carts. From what he is saying in French and madly gesturing, I guess by looking the direction he points that cars cant go down the laneway and that I will need to take my bags to the Riad myself - great! Just then a old fat guy barges up and points to his trailer looking cart and goes to put my bags inside. I stop him to agree on a price first and see if he even knows my riad that I am staying at. He promises he does and we agreed on 50 dirham - yes locals would die if they knew but its around $5 and I cant be assed at this point. So of we go the fat man happy that he's bleeding the white tourist woman dry and I'm certain that all the locals he greets as we walk down the alley ways are asking how much he ripped me - but I'm just happy to give him a job so he can live off the streets really.

Sometime I go I read a book by Brisbane journalist Suzanna Clarke called "A house in Fez" all about a Brissie couple who fall in love with Morocco and buy a riad (house) to renovate. It was before reading this that I decided to make sure Morocco was on my to see list, but after reading the book, images of sandstone rendered alley ways weaving through mysterious medinas played in my mind. So this isn't too far from the truth and generally the alley ways are kept clean, its just that they look dark and dodgy and grey really so I was a little shocked to just see concrete walls and doors. My Riad was called Hotel du Tresor - a riad renovated by an Italian whose tastes filled the rooms with matisse paintings and Moroccan light fittings - quiet tasteful and perfectly located. We walked into the door with all my luggage and off the fatman went - Adriano the owner greeted me with the offer of mint tea which I would later learn to know as "Berber Whiskey" and loathe the smell due to the huge amounts I had to drink in the first few days and the kilos of sugar they pile into the glass! The riad had a beautiful lemon tree in the centre courtyard that hangs over a small plunge pool - which I was way too shy to use considering it was right in front of the office where the men sat and I was in a Muslim country with only a bikini and cursed myself for not bringing my boardies and rash vest.

The view from the roof terrace over the media showed an abundance of satellite dishes - another scene I would soon become all to familiar with in Morocco. The room had a massive bathroom that interestingly had a rug in the middle beside the big bathtub and one of those gorgeous victorian era chairs in the bathroom - perfect for dumping clothes on or reading in the bathroom perhaps??? The owner took me on a short tour of the surrounding streets so I would have my bearings to get upto the main square and move around.

I was dying to eat so in the main square I submitted to one of the touts and ate vegetarian couscous for 30 dirham ($3.50 approx) whilst people watching - that was still the best couscous I have had so far in Morocco and for a fraction of the cost of those tourist restaurants. It took me all of 2 hours of being in the country to shop :) BUT it wasnt for me I bought gifts so there!

So far I was liking what I saw of Marrakech - a little modern, a little bit of stepping back in time and some scenes that looked like they were from the book Aladdin.

Next blog... Marrakech the first two days.

Greece - the family

After the excitement of Turkey it was time to return to the "homeland" of Greece and see family and friends once again. It's very different when you visit a country to see family versus being a tourist - I am yet to do this with Greece and this is my fourth visit here! I have the same routine - family in Athens then family in the Zakynthos - yes I promise I will check out the rest of the islands soon!

Meanwhile lets start with Athens... I was here last time for the start of the Olympic games in 2004 when nobody thought they could pull it together in time but they did just like every country always does. This was also the same weekend that Greece made it into the grand final for the UEFA cup against Portugal and won which is every Greeks most proudest moment this last decade I think. Being in Athens then the city was alive - buzzing and I loved it! Returning after 6 years however, I found myself questioning what exactly I liked about the concrete city?! I've been dwelling on this for a few weeks now and this has resurfaced now that my sister just visited and said she couldn't wait to get out of there. SO.... I have come to this conclusion....

a) my last time in Athens I was 6 years younger when the bars and clubs of Glyfada were top of my to do list - in 2010 I found myself in a gay friendly bar on a Saturday night with my cousin and his girlfriend for a more chilled and less "to be seen evening".

b)the difference is seeing Athens through the eyes of a local versus a tourist. If you like history then you will appreciate the museums and of course the Acropolis. If you are after pretty architecture along the streets, you really need to know where to look - but it really is now a concrete jungle with everyone honking their way through the streets to get where they need to go (as with most other major cities I have visited).

This time I found everything balanced out - when there was something I didn't like such as the crap side walks with cars parked everywhere and no considerations for mum's with prams, elderly with walking sticks or frames and the disabled dont even get to leave their homes! But then this balanced out with a brilliant metro system that is super clean, efficient and so cheap (1 Euro per ride regardless of distance). I watched the Greek news one night as they showed a story about how with the economy at breaking point in Greece, Athenians are starting to think about helping thy neighbour through little gestures such as....

When you catch the metro in Athens you purchase a blank ticket that you must register in these machines before boarding on the train - it's not like Australian trains where the ticket opens the gate, you could quiet easily walk through without registering your ticket but I did see a few people get booked for not doing so. So when Athenians are doing at the moment, because the ticket is valid for 1.5 hours from when you register it, meaning you could make a return trip - at the exit they are passing the ticket to other travellers who are walking into the station or leaving them ontop of the ticket machines so people dont need to waste money buying another ticket. I know its small but its thoughtful and something a few of us in Brisbane kept doing with our parking tickets back into the machine so people didnt need to buy - pass it forward you know!

So if little things like this are starting to happen in Greece I do have hope for a country that is stricken with red tape and contradictions.

As usual with all my travels, I managed to be arriving into Athens during the heart of the economic debates and riots. Yes I saw the damage to shop-fronts, graffitti on monuments and many rallys that I even walked into without realising until I saw the riot police in their gear having a smoke watching with relaxed nerves - but nothing was that bad - dangerous I mean.

I spoke to family, friends and taxi drivers in Greece to see is it really bad as they are making out on the news and yes it is - its the GFC we just had in Australia - remember those first few months where the headlines spoke of doom and gloom and people (generally 25+yrs) started to watch where they spent and considered the bus as petrol prices got out of control. Well Greece is finally feeling this storm except due to the messed up government everyone is being impacted with the deductions coming out of their pay packet. I have friends worrying about rent next month which is something I recall feeling as a home owner a little while back when the interest rates were rocketing.

OK sorry off track - so yes its the hot topic of conversation in Greece at the moment and I did meet many people who said there's no problem at all (?). But life goes on and I still saw bars, restaurants busy, just not as full as they would usually be. Those in the tourism and hospitality sector and bracing for a quiet tourism year this year with people worried about riots, that damn volcano and the world struggling financially. Having said that my Easyjet flight from London to Athens was full and so were all planes into Zakynthos, but I'm told as many people that are coming in are leaving.

So somethings I noticed this trip that I hadn't paid much attention to previously. So lots of people or most in Athens live in apartments. In Australia your address would be a unit number followed by building number and street. In Greece it's only your building number and your name - every intercom system in Athens lists the full names of those residing in each apartment so you know which apartment to buzz or the postman knows which letter box to deliver to - privacy clearly not being at the top of the list here. So I made the comment to my girlfriend when I noticed no number on her apartment door - when I told her we dont use names she was confused as to how does the postman and friends know which one you are - numbers!

One thing I knew from last time but seems really prevalint now, is that women in Greece dont change their surnames anymore - all the apartment intercoms list the male and the females full name. I asked a few people why and they said have you seen the paperwork for divorce in Greece, so now its not so common to change your name, the children just take their father's surname.

Another interesting fact, this time about Greeks and their babies. When you have a new born baby in Greece you dont give him or her a name at the hospital, you simply call it bebe or baby until you have christened it after 40 days. Whereas the Greeks in Australia call the baby their name from the day he or she is born. So in my cousins case, they have a little girl that I will be christening in September - she will be 1 year and 9 months and still is called bebe!

This was the first time I had come to Greece so early in the year before the summer and tourists really arrived - I see why. Whilst Athens survives year round, the islands on the other hand dont have that beautiful summer sun perfect for the beach. The entire time I was there I missed out on my daily beach sleeps, instead I was wearing winter jackets and sneakers to keep warm and avoid the puddles! It's hard to imagine what life would be like of the islands outside of the summer - generally I dont think we even think that the islands could experience such depressing London like weather, but they do! But it's a different life, everyone says you hibernate during the winter then work and play in the summer - there's a concept working 6 months then relaxing 6 months!

I found myself freaking out for my family who wait for the tourists to come at the start of summer each year - it was just weird to see my little island empty and with no night atmosphere except for a few bars with English tourists getting in whilst package tours were cheap and the heat comes too.

In Athens I managed to go for a swim and jetski just a few kilometers out of town, and had my cousin not been so insistent that it wont be too cold, I dont think I would have beleived him - it was in fact perfect weather and we found the cutest little isolated pebble beach with water as flat as "lathi" (oil) as my cousin kept telling everyone.

Another favourite Athenian treat that I am now hooked on aside from the Yiros with Patates (chips) is Crepes with chocolate and fresh strawberries - mmmmm Alex my thighs thank you! On my last night in Athens we decided at around 12.30am to treat me one more time to this delicacy and took a drive which should take 20-30min but the speed that my cousin took to the freeways of Athens that evening I thought was my last day on earth. Not to mention we literally flew past a Police car on the freeway doing more than 160km p/hr and when I pointed this out to my cousin he laughed and said "dont worry they do nothing" and that they did!

One thing they are doing now though (when they can be bothered and in between smokes and frappe) is booking people (in the front only) for not wearing their seat belts - finally! So most people are paying attention and wearing them to avoid the 300 -500 Euro fine - ouch!

It was interesting to go to Greece this time as now all my cousins are basically married or with babies, so I knew this time that there would be no late night bouzoukia's - but alas thats what grandparents are for right?! And although the economic climate didnt permit for expensive nights at the bouzoukia (greek singers, live bands, dancing on tables, trays of carnations, bottles of Johnnie and leaving in time for breakfast) we still managed to visit a few bars on the island that were packed with "youngsters" who clearly thought they were posing for Vogue magazine much to my amusement when I would remind my cousin they are in a village!

One thing I have noticed this time and I'm not sure if its the economic situation, but everyone works and eats ridiculously late now. I just dont remember my cousins working so late previously, now they are starting at 9 till 10.30pm, sometimes later then having full steak dinners at 11.30pm!!

This was also the first time I managed to get my hands on a car for my stay in Zakynthos so managed to do some exploring around the island and found little villages that looked like they were out of Tuscany!! A lot of English tourists are buying houses on the island and restoring them as their annual holiday homes - the sheer number of them walking into my friends store attempting to speak Greek and purchase their groceries astounded me!

Also this time the once Albanian refugees that Greece were trying to rid are now accepted and well integrated into the community. There is definately still a stigma attached to being Albanian, but its quiet common now for the mix marriages between Greeks and Albanians who have learnt the language and appear to be happy calling Greece their new home. Instead in Athens in particular, but all over Greece there is a major influx of male African refugees from the likes of Sudan, Mali and Somalia - if you want Loui Vuitton handbags, purses, sunnies etc Athens side walks are the place to be! The police occassionally harass them but it appears they are trying to be tolerant. My gut feeling is that the Greeks are a little scared of the sheer number of them pouring in from Africa and also Afghanistan and India. It appears the Indians and Afghanis are cleaning car windows, selling tissues and this sticky goo ball and have left the designer goods and DVDs to the Africans.

The thing that got me the most is their grasp of the Greek language as one African guy accosted me to buy some bags from him in Greece saying to help him out. I hope things settle and on goods terms they too can be accepted and call Greece home as most of them have had a tough life and time to make it all the way to Greece.

One place I always visit in Zakynthos and means a lot to me is the church of St Dionysios - the island patron saint whose body is mummified and brought out on the 24th Aug each year for a major festival. The church is infact a monestary so photos inside are not permitted but I just love to go in and sit and make my wishes to St Dionyssios. It's very sentimental to me especially since it's my fathers island and the saint which he is also named after. Every visit I never fail to purchase too many St Dionyssios icons for home! I also love to go up to a special village where my father is from and my grandparents are buried to pay my respects and sit and observe the island below. This time whilst I was cleaning the grave the caretaker came over to tell me that her grandmother and my grandmother were sisters - I love family trees and small village life!

So my stay in Greece wasnt touristy, I observed alot of things I perhaps was too young previously to notice and I spent quality time with my family and their families eating copious amounts of food that I thought was mains but was only entrees! I'll be back there in September so hopefully I can catch the last of the summer sun before its winter once more.

Next blog... Morocco

Turkish Hamman - Istanbul, May 2010

For my last day in Istanbul I promised myself that I would finally make it to a hammam after having all intentions of visiting at least several times during my two week stay. After lazy about all day and chatting on Skype, I finally dragged my lazy self out into the streets of Sultanhamet in search of the Cemberlitas Hamami which was recommended by the lovely Turkish cleaner at my hotel. I had found another hammam in and internet search but didn't like that it was more catered to tourists and was mixed ie. men and women in the same area. Even the guys working in the reception of my hotel advised against this.

So I strolled up the main street towards the bazaar and there it was and so was I. I actually got really excited when I got to the door as I realised I have wondered what this would be like for so long and all those ancient paintings of naked women in a marble room made me wonder if it really was like that. Well it was and is! So the lady asked what package I would like to purchase - there's the "self-service" option for 35 lire which means you scrub yourself, rinse etc and just relax in the hammam, then the other options were someone else doing that for you and the luxury option was finishing the day with an oil massage. Well I decided that I havent had a massage during my last two weeks of intense dancing and I had intended several visits, so I splurged and got the luxury package for 95 lire plus a pedicure which I havent had since before starting India back in Jan so I still have India heels (pretty!).
You are handed a couple of coloured tokens one red and one yellow, a cotton saron, loofah and brand new pair of black undies in a cute little gift bag (must be one size fits all OR she sized me up well!).
I walked into the main enterance area looking very lost and was directed upstairs by the voices from a harem of very large, old Turkish women. I got to the top of the stairs and the lady tells me to strip and put my belongings into the locker and head over for my pedicure which was just what my poor little feet needed. I was then motioned down stairs where one of the old Turkish ladies escorted me shyly wrapped in my cotton sarong and sexy white plastic slippers into the hammam. It was brilliant! The room is octagonal with little holes in the roof to let the natural light stream in and in the centre of the room is a marble slab that is heated and you lay your sarong onto and then plonk yourself on there too. So you work up a sweat from the hot marble and steam in the air - I failed to mention that there are nervous women like me lying everywhere in black undies and no top - how as a woman do you politely look away when a massive Turkish woman with zulu boobs nearly touching her knees walks past you.
I'm certain we were all sneaking a peek at whose were better - is this what men do at the urinals but fail to admit it??!!!
So I tried to lie there comfortably and act local like I've done this a million times before - my cover was blown by my enthusiasm within the first 10 minutes. So the lady who escorted me in motioned for me to lie on the slab and left the room, I waited for 10 min and she didn't come back and I saw other women using the marble taps around the edge of the room and the metal bowls to pour water on themselves to cool off and then start scrubbing with the soap and loofah. So after observing this and thinking about all the travel books I have read with women in Morocco visiting hammams and the ritual, I decided this is what you do. So I got up and paraded across the room in my undies (its parading when you are topless Im sorry!) and started rinsing etc. Then the Turkish lady comes in and see's me and gets angry say "No I do this you relax" (insert rough scary voice). "OK" I replied and lay back on the marble slab as she strips in front of me in her undies with huge saggies in my face as she kindly puts on her bikini top. Yes I know I'm a woman I shouldnt be so shocked - its just how it unfolded and that these women were even in the foyer swinging them around, its so opposite to gym change rooms in Australia where MOST people keep them to themselves!
So there I lay on my tummy as she lathered me up, scrubbed me raw, rinsed me and then my favourite part she took me over to the taps at the side of the room and washed my hair. I sat there for a moment and felt like I was a little girl and mum was washing my hair again - it was perfect and I recommend a hammam for anyone missing their mum as it really took me back to being a kid and getting a bath - no soothingness of a day spa this is all about getting the job done!
After a few buckets of warm water to rinse me off she directed me into another room where I gave my red token to another lady who lay me down for my oil massage. Dont think Thai aromatherapy oil massage either - think more Johnson & Johnson baby oil with some knuckles working out the knots in my back. But it was brilliant. At this point Im lying there alongside other women getting massaged thinking I feel like I had been broken down and rebuilt over the last two hours. There was something soothing about it and once I got over the boobie factor, after my massage I found myself back in the hammam resting on the warm marble slab that reminded me of being a kid lying on the warm concrete beside the pool.

After sweating it out for nearly 2 hours in between rinses and giggles at the horror on tourists faces as they walk in to be confronted by boobies, I sat in the main foyer with the rest of the zulu boob troupe and enjoyed a freshly squeeze oj and chai. Seems like I timed my exit perfectly as a group of school kids rocked up - school kids going to hammams??? Imagine what they are saying about their teacher? Well they are lucky anyway as I was lying there scheming how I could build a hammam in Australia and charge entry :)
Definately something you must do before you die and definately an experience I would like to share with my daughter like one Turkish mum and daughter there. It really is like those paintings and so very relaxing when you get over your shyness.
To finish a perfect arvo I found a hairdresser across the street and got a haircut - they say Turkish hairdressers are some of the best - my guy was just snip happy and I have never seen so much of my hair on the floor, nor felt like I was going to cry and vomit at the same time. Alas my lack of faith turned out to be for nothing - he gave me one of the best haircuts I've ever had for 30 lire which included a blow dry and all the staff in the salon clapping in joy at how long my hair is and the end result.
What a beautiful finish to a special trip in Turkey - I will be back next year Istanbul, this time with no suitcase so I can have my wardrobe sponsored by the Mango outlet store :)
Next blog... Greece

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.....