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.

Amritsar - The Golden Sikh Temple & Border Closing Ceremony in Punjab, India

After leaving Pushkar I caught the overnight train further north to the holy city of Amritsar in Punjab - 30kms from the Pakistan border. Since my first trip to India and my obsession with Bhangra dance I have obsessed over coming back and discovering the state of India's most energetic and uplifting dance style. So I found myself a little distracted by their religion as Sihks.

If you ask alot of the Indian's living in Australia you will learn that many of those studying are from the state Punjab and whilst the younger one's sometimes choose to try and blend in the West, they are Sikhs and wear turbans to cover their extremely long hair.

Since India is the land of religions and devotion and after watching one of my favourite Sharuk Khan films "Rab Bana Di Jodi" and seeing the Golden Temple on their for the first time in one scene of the most romantic songs which so happens to be my favourite - I knew I had to go and see it's beauty with my own eyes. My gut instincts told me that I was going to find this place as special as the Taj Mahal, but I didn't want to jinx myself.

Arriving at the train station it was just like any other noisy, congested and polluted Indian city. My rickshaw driver zoomed me across town as I tried to spot the difference of the Punjab state vs the rest of India - obviously that was turbans and beards, but the real difference lay in the Golden Temple and the Sikhs. My hotel (Hotel Indus) was right opposite the temple and I paid a little extra to have a temple view room - which meant I looked right into the compound and it was gorgeous.

I have to admit I lost the plot a little when I got to the room as the accomodation was all a little flash compared to what I have been living in for the last two months here in India. Finally I had a toilet that flushes, AC, a mirror, clean bathroom, hot water, telephone, mini bar (granted it was empty), TV AND they even gave me shampoo, toilet paper and soap!

I arrived about 1pm - I had read that you can get a share taxi from the front of the temple t go out and see the border closing ceremony between Pakistan and India - 30km away. So I had the choice to get a private driver for 600 rupees or share for 75 rupees - I decided the latter which proved to be worth the effort and stepping out of my comfort zone. So there was no official box from which to purchase a ticket in the shared cars, just a bunch of random dodgy looking guys harassing visitors if the want to go out to the border. I asked the temple guard who pointed me their direction so I spoke to a young boy who spoke good english and who told me I pay 25 rupees now and 50 later. I was to come back at 3pm and there would be up to 8 people in my car. He had a simple notepad on which he scribbled down a mobile number and the remaining balance due. I took my paper and walked off in a daze thinking to myself I should probably be a little more careful since he told me that it's an hour drive to travel 30km and that I wouldn't be back until 8.30pm and being only 60km from Lahore after the bomb attack a week ago I was a little nervous.

So at the shoe check-in counter at the temple I asked this old Sikh if they were safe to go with, his English was none exstant but he sweetly hunted down an English speaking visitor to find out what I wanted. Once the guy from Delhi explained to him, he took great pride in making it his mission to go and meet these men and see if his "contacts" knew if they were trust worthy. After a few death stares from the driver who didn't seem to understand what this crazy foreign woman was concerned about, the old man said "Teak" (OK) "you come 3pm Teak".

So I came back just before 3pm and to my releif there were about 50 Indian families and couples all there to do the same thing, so I felt alot safer already. We were divided into groups and piled into mini vans, I luckily had one family of 3 and a young Indian couple from Delhi who loved the chance to practise their English and be my tour guides on what was done and why.

The border closing ceremony was every bit the circus act that I had been told but it just was not a smart move that after a day sitting around in Pushkar waiting for my over night train to Amritsar to do - I was low on energy and after our driver had death in his eyes and nearly rolled our van doing 100+km on a construction road and sitting in the sun for 3 hours I was fast whithering away. So at the border we are told no-one is allowed to carry any bags - you can carry your valuables in your hand which as a foreigner screwed me because I had no purse to put my cash in, plus my i pod, camera and phone. Then there was a men's and women's queue and for a 2nd time in India being a woman finally had it's benefits as the queue was a heap shorter. The military is of course absolutely in force out there to the point where mobile phone next works are shut down so no-one can detonate bombs. Women were taken aside by female soldiers and I was a little too frisked by a female soldier who took great pride in groping my breasts! I felt very violated and the young Indian girl I was with thought it was hysterical the enthusiasm the female soldier had for me.

Again women were then ushered off to a female grandstand and men opposite - this suited me fine but I felt sorry for all the couples who were split up. So we sat there in the sun for the next 2.5 hours waiting for the ceremony to officially start. In the meantime they pulled out these huge Indian flags and children were lined up in two's to have a turn running 100m to the border gates waving the flag with great pride and to the loud cheers and clapping of the crowd. Then the old ladies many in saari decided they too wanted to re-live their childhood and go for a run - this attracted even louder applause from the crowd. Then the housewives started encouraging each other to go up and soon the majority of the female stand had gone for a jog in training for the upcoming Commonwealth games as flag bearers I guess :)

Next came the ridiculously loud and distorted Indian top 40 tunes that all refer to Indian pride - of course Jai Ho from Slum Dog Millionaire sent them nuts and in the school crowd beside me 4 boys of about 10 who had clearly learnt a routine stood up and decided to perform this on their seats. To say that I was grinning like a chesher cat was an understatement - if any of them were my sons I would have been a glowing mum. They rocked! The pelvic thrusts and Michael Jackson move's just seemed be the biggest crowd pleasers but their passion to see that they executed every move to the fullest I couldn't stop cheering them on.

So are you remembering that this is a border closing ceremony?? Yes I know its a little odd. I got to the point after so much dancing on the street by the crowd that I was about to get up and volunteer to close the gate for them so we could get out of the heat and I wouldnt be forced to whack the Indian guy that had sneaked into our area waving his Indian flag in my face!

Patience I know - there's only so much you can give in India especially when you are tired and it's hot. Finally the MC - yes a MC started to fire up the Indian crowd chanting "Hindustan!" and the crowd responding with throat bursting proudness. I looked across at the Pakistan border grand stands to see what was going on over there - only around 100 women veiled up on one side and 100 men on the other in their white kaftan's. Their MC sounded more like a Mullah preparing them for war then the humour of the Indian one. The Indian guys were starting to fire up when they heard the passion in the Pakistani men's voices and I could only imagine the obscenities they were shouting at them.

All of a sudden it was like a yodelling competition between the Indian and Pakistani soldiers. The MC for each country would hold the mic up to a soldier and generally at the same time the idea was for them to chant a note and see who could hold it the longest. The first two times India one and you'd think they had just cleaned up the gold medals at the Olympics. Then Pakistan started to win, so I noticed the MC would delay the Indian's start to hide this fact from the crowd. After around 20min of this painful yodelling competition the guards one at a time did this crazy power walk and high air kick that made it look like they were auditioning for Moulin Rouge. I was delirious by this point so started commentating to myself to pass the time.

With each kick and sometimes this weird shoulder wiggle the crown would loose their minds with excitement - I must admit though team Pakistan looked like true warriors in their black and red uniforms almost resembling arab ninjas. After more than three hours they took about 10 min to pull the flags down and pretty much slam the gates on each other's face and it was over.

I really wanted a photo with the soldiers with their huge red material fans on their hats, but they were all a little grumpy and had no patience for even the tourists. On the way out with my friends from the car I thought I noticed something over by the barbed wire fence between Pakistan and India but I wasn't sure. The guy from Delhi if I noticed what was happening and I laughed and told him that I thought it was just my imagination - clearly not... The Indians were pissing through the fence onto Pakistan! The military conveniently took their time stopping them doing it, but I was told this happens everyday - Incredible India!

So according to my Lonely Planet they Sikh's offer free "Lengar" at the temple in a massive dining hall for all visitors irrespective of race, religion or caste - this is truely special in India. So after my little border closing ceremony I was famished and my friends from Delhi suggested that I accompany them to the Lengar Hall so I could learn how it works and be set for the next couple of days. Off we went into the temple and the process was something like this.....

1. check in bags and keep valuables on us again and keep metal token

2. check in shoes at the counter next door and keep metal token

3. put on head scarf to enter the temple grounds

4. walk over to the lengar food hall entry wash hands and feet at communal taps

5. take a metal plate from first person, spoon from next and bowl from last

6. follow the crowds into the hall and stack up again each other on long canvas runners on the marble floor

7.place dish and bowl on floor in front of you and patiently wait 2 min as the first guy with dahl (yellow lentil curry) comes along with his metal bucket and ladle and pours into the first holder in your plate.

8. put up both hands as though making a cup for water and the chappati guy will give you two

9. another vegetable curry

10. the water guy comes along and fills up your bowl with his big tea pot

11. the dessert guy comes along with another metal bucket and ladle and scoops a delicious rice curd into your dish

12. enjoy wearing have the food as you eat with your bread and hands (spoon is for dessert)

13. have as many refills as you like whilst the locals freak out that this foreign girl can eat so much! :)

14. If you dont finish the same time as your row be prepared for the man sitting on a ride on street cleaner that squirts water on the floor in front of you and has a huge squeegy at the back to clean the filthy curried floor. (see you could have a army of kids if you owned this machine!)

15. follow the crowds out the door and give your spoon to the spoon guys and plate/bowl to the others.

16. return to communal taps to wash hands and face as there are no such things as serviettes

It was so organisied and smooth running that I am starting to beleive the Sikhs should be running India! Not only for this reason but they are such compassionate people. Everyone who works there is a volunteer I was told - you give up a day like community service to serve the temple visitors - so the shoe guy, bags, water, food, cooks, cleaners, guards and dishwashers are all volunteering. People from the community offer to help peel onions, cut potatoes - it's just amazing to see such a giving group of people.

Furthermore I picked up a publication and it tells that they run schools, mental institutions, hospitals, accommodation, drug dispensaries - so much for those down on their luck. Plus all the food that apparently 50-60,000 people flock to receive for free everyday, the free accommodation in two huge blocks next door to the temple where pilgrims can stay for free for up to two days and the huge courtyard where the homeless (many of them rickshaw drivers) are given mats and blankets, showers and a safe place to sleep each night. It's mind blowing how much this must cost to run each day. I asked how is it afforded and they said that the Sikh pilgrims who visit each day leave donations as well most of those in the state of Punjab donate a % of their salary to the temple and its projects. I was so touched and impressed that I left a great donation and still wanted to give them more.

After eating I went for a walk around the temple compound and the golden temple actually is surrounded by holy water that the pilgrims drink and dip themselves in and their are huge Koi fish in there that the kids just love. In th middle of this square marbled grounds is the beautiful golden temple itself - covered in 750KG of gold, it truly is amazing! Throughout the compound you can hear the chants and tabla music of the holy Sikh leaders that are sitting within the golden temple. Pilgrims line up to enter and offer "prasad" or offering to them and see the holy book that is brought into the temple during the day and out into another building in the evening.

I learnt that the Sikhs are bound by the 5 Ks:

1. Kes (uncut hair)

2. Karingha (small wooden comb)

3. Kara (iron bracelet)

4. Kirpan (sword to be worn at all times - and everyone had one so I got one too!)

5. Kaccha (like special underwear that I saw them wear when they stripped down to dip)

For me the Golden Temple has been the highlight alongside the Taj Mahal for this trip to India, but more in a soul cleansing way. The hypnotic sounds of the men chanting and sitting with the locals on the marble walk ways facing the temple - I must have sat listening and thinking for on average 4 hours a day it was very special for me. It was so very calming and right up there with my Varanasi morning Pujas ritual on the Ganges.

Next blog.... Rishikesh yoga capital of the world.....

Pushkar:India - March 2010

My grand arrival into Pushkar on the back of a fruit/luggage cart sets the scene - my hotel comes in sight, a huge old fortress wooden door ready for war - Inn Seventh Heaven is the hotels nams. Greeted with the "No Commission" sign on the door - is this the only place in India not paying commission :)



Enterting through the doors my worries from the adventures actually getting here are long left behind. The first sight you are greeted with is a beautiful courtyard - white marble/granite with a Morroccon style waterfountain that has been thoughtfully decorated with Fuscia coloured rose petals. The receptionist Mavi greets me with what I will soon learn is his energetic self and great sense of humour. I'm promised he will return my passport later "maybe" thankfully I can tell he's joking. So a brave man lifts my backpack onto his shoulder and I am told to follow him to my room. The hotel is full for the length of most of my stay but I am offered a room in the adjoining building called Konica House. I was a little anxious at the time of booking as I really did want to stay in Seventh Heaven but I thought I would give it a couple of nights and see how I feel.



After climbing a maze of stairs up and down we arrive to my room - double bed, fan, adjoining private bathroom with a shower (hot water!!!) and my own private balcony overlooking the sidelane below - complete with a beautiful bougavillea, succulent plants and burnt orange chiffon curtains on the balcony for some privacy. I immediately liked the feel of my room - maybe it was living in that dungeon in Jaipur for a month that made me appreciate such a simple room but it was cosy and I decided mine for the next 15 nights at 450 rupee a night - bargain!



I went for a stroll to the hotel's rooftop restaurant and was greeted by guys who ended up feeling like my Indian brothers during my stay. Each of them too pranksters - offering me my muslei on the first morning with a ketchup bottle saying "here is some ketchup for your museli" - I fell for it as everyone in India appears to be ketchup mad thanks to the Brits. I politely declined and Sam insists that I try this Indian favourite - I hand him the bottle and politely decline again - he laughs and says its honey. This sense of humour amongst the staff is what makes this hotel a great place to stay. They look after you like family and their joking puts you into relax mode as you remember not everything in India is meant to be full throttle.



As I was saying the rooftop restaurant had brilliant food and reasonable prices and they even had salads which all the greens they wash in purified water so the tourists dont need to worry about Pushkar belly. This was my first salad since leaving Australia and it rocked - I have a new recipe for salads :) I even braved the Lassi's here as I figured they would be putting their yoghurt in the fridge - delicious again.



There were two resident dogs at the hotel - one who was similar to a bear and who got shaved just before I left - poor thing got the worst haircut in history. The hotel is an old haveli residence and has aroudn 3-4 floors with typical mughal style arch-ways and my all time favourite that I love and am demanding I own in this lifetime - a Indiand chair swing. Don't think of those tacky one's from your local hardware store that nan or pop owned, we are talking hand-carved wood with red velour cushioning and gold chains securing this to the ceiling. One night after dinner I was so snug reading on the swing that I feel asleep and when I woke up and grabbed my things to go to my room I left behind my Lonely Planet for India!! Someone in the hotel scored it and the next day I was eyeing anyone carrying the same edition as mine - which was everyone - dammit. So just like there is a market for stolen shoes from temples here in India, I soon discovered there is a market for 2nd hand Lonely Planets - this time I have stuck on a Shiva and Pavarti god sticker on the front and written a friendly karma reminder notice in the front cover for it's safe return if found.



I had been to Pushkar around 5 years earlier for a couple of days as part of my tour so I already had my bearings of what is where - which isn't really hard when this is a main road that has the bazaar. But last time I didnt get to explore and the lake which this town is famous for actually had water - this time it is empty as there apparently has been no rain since I left. This has completely changed the vibe of the town and hundreds of Hindu pilgrims flock here throughout the year as it has not only the Holy Lake for their early morning and evening poojas, but also India's only Bhrama temple.



One thing I discovered this time round is that Pushkar is not only a haven for foreign tourists (Israelis in particular), but Hindus from across India too. Every morning just as the sun was rising I would be woken by the pilgrim old women who were walking to the makeshift pools for their morning rituals and prayers at one of the many temples. They would be signing, talking loudly - some mornings there was even full brass bands playing. I would silently curse for my sleep deprivation than once the noisy group disappeared within a matter of minutes I was back asleep.



Everyday between 10-11am in Pushkar there is no electricity. Some tourists complain - and I certainlty wouldn't be overly happy in the middle of summer if I paid for an AC room, however the option to counter this is to have a huge noisy generator under some unlucky guests window splattering smoke and being offensively noisy just to comfort a few grumpy guests. I like that the hotel has chosen not to have this and instead puts up with the power outage. In summer apparently the power is out more than 1 hour a day - note to readers considering Pushkar don't come hear between March and Sept - tooooooo hot. Summer is just starting here but it was already getting unbearable and for a town with an empty lake and huge pipe bringing in water from a nearby dam, I wonder the environmental impact of the tourists and pilgrims in this city - but this is India they are no where at that point to care yet.



The bazaar in Pushkar is brilliant - so many hippy clothes catering to foreign tastes. If you like the Byron Bay markets in Australia then you would love Pushkar - dread-locked hippies with their barefoot children and Israeli's as far as the eye can see. As I have said to a few people I keep eaves dropping on Israeli conversations as their accent reminds me of Adam Sandler's movie "Don't mess with Zohan". It took me about a day to ask some Israelis if the Mokantakan restaurant chain they show in the movie is real and sadly no :(



I've decide that on my next trip to India I will instead of bringing clothes just come with an empty bag to Pushkar and fill up on suitable cotton clothes for the rest of my trip - too easy and for $50 you can be set! I have to say the restraint I showed to not go clothes shopping is applaudable - so I rewarded myself with jewellry shopping instead :) When travelling I seem to have 3 things thta I now like to buy from the different countries - textiles, paintings and unique jewellry pieces. In the case of Pushkar they offer a huge variety of stering silver pieces - more tribal influences and those that you find in your local Tree of Life / crystal boho shops. I really wanted a nice silver bangle but failed in finding one that I liked and would wear when I'm back in reality. So I befriended a store owner in the back alleys near my dance teachers home out of the bazaar to buy a heap of antique gypsy pieces for ridiculously cheap compared to the bazaar - I almost felt guilty that they were so cheap so decided I should buy plenty to at least help this poor guy with some business :) I bought a pair of traditional Rajisthani ankles - not super noisy but they are sterling silver and have little balls hanging with the evil eye, I bought a pair of beautiul Rajisthani toe rings and one toe ring set of 3 rings joined by chains that I have seen many of the gypsies wearing. I also bought a heap of individual necklace pieces representative and worn by the different castes. All up I think I spent $60 and walked away with wayyyy too much but something special to me.

Pushkar also has the famous old Rangi Temple that one American lady Colleena Shakti leases a room from and teaches dance classes in Odissi, Tribal and Khabelia Gypsy style dance. I had been admiring her website for months and decided to attend classes there. I enjoyed the gypsy classes which gave you a rare chance to dance with the local gypsy women and learn some of their beautiful moves that influences the Romany gypsies and hand movements that you can today see a part of Flamenco (you need to watch the movie Latcho Drum). I have one little incident to show true gypsy entrepenuership in action. My teacher at the end of my class was sitting with her sister, friend and 1 year old baby and asked if I would like to join them for a Chai, I agreed and off we went to the bazaar to one of her local friends stores. One the way she asked another store for their business card and over chai she gave this to me with her name and said if I would like to post her any clothes or anything from my country I could send them to this stores address with her name on the front. Clever I thought and obviously something that other dancers have done to date. Then a few more people joined us for chai and one gypsy yelled across at me - "madam ek chai" one chai - that's when the penny dropped - I'm paying for everyone's chai. Cultural difference #1 dont assume that when you are invitied to chai that everyone will pay their way, these are gypsies! So I agreed and learnt my lesson quick smart that they are a cheeky and crafty crew :)



Another favourite in Pushkar is the local falafel hawker stand - there are two next to each other, go to the one one your right when you are facing them. After my first visit to them everyday after, twice a day, they greet me with "Namaste madam how are you?" with the hugest smiles. For 50 rupee I had the best falafel roll I have eaten in my life along with pretty damn good hummous and labne (like Tzatiki) obviously this is a recipe thanks to some brilliant visiting Israeli. I asked one Israeli what the go is with so many of them in Pushkar - I think it looked like 80% were from Israel, to the point where signs are everywhere written in Hebrew and shopkeepers and quiet often fluent in the language too! I was told that back home if you say you are going to India, as an Israeli everyone knows to visit Manali, Pushkar and Goa as they have huge communities of Israeli tourists. I guess it's like Aussies in Phuket and Bali really.



One evening - well most - there was a brass band playing tunes for yet another religious ceremony. One particular night walking back to the hotel they were shutting the roads down and we soon discovered a Vishnu procession was to take place. Waiting patiently roadside in the bazaar the strangest scene unfolded infront of me. Aside from the ear-drum bursting terrible keyboard distortion they were calling music, these old old men were pushing HUGE generators on wheels and attached walking almost like a prisoner line ahead were what looked like the local prisoners of Pushkar carring lights on their head attached to the next guy by a electrical cord - a chain of these around 1 km long. My friend and I agreed these guys looked super scary and later learnt that most of them are street people who would have been paid 100 rupee for the night to carry these lights on there head and swallow the terrible smoke from the generators. One old guy saw me taking photos and started dancing with the light on his head - neadless to say I have captured his toothless self dancing with the light on his head all on video.



Being one to not turn down an opportunity to try something new and punish my stomach (ie. the taranchula in Cambodia) I have read about "Pan" in numerous books and decided that it was time I gave this beetle-nut and green tabacco leaf combo a try (this too will go on youtube) as I write this now I am gagging remembering the foul taste. So they have these little Pan stalls along the streets throughout India and for around 10 rupee you get a green leaf, some brown sauce (could be liquid tobacco), aniseed, cardamon, bettlenut and some other terrible ingrediants. You put it in the side of your mouth and chew - I had a bit of an audience wondering what this crazy foreign woman was doing. I decided to bite a bit and chew - f__ terrible! Just think of your toilet cleaner and that's about it. Needless to say I politely spat it into the gutter and kept gargling water to get rid of the taste. Why do I do these things to myself??



Another attraction for many of the tourists and some won't admit, but Pushkar has a serious drug problem - pot town! You often walk through clouds of the stuff and can see tourists with lovely red eyes. One restaurant we were eating at one afternoon decided that since no-one was around that they made us a special pot lassi as a "gift" Amsterdam yes - India no so I politely declined while I watched our pizza guy smoke a joint whilst making my magarihita. The thing that bothers me most with this situation in Pushkar is that it is affecting the locals. Young kids are being influenced by Westerners to smoke pot and drink beer in a Holy City that dosen't permit these. Seedy characters in an abundance surface at night once the bazaar has closed offering you pot and even opium on one night stroll. I'm told by locals that even some of the gypsies are selling (of course) and prostitution is on the increase amongst the young girls and some filthy tourists.

This was the downside to spending more than a few nights in Pushkar, the image of this pretty little town was ruined for me when I got to see what was really going on and being a small town you start to get to know everyone and who does what.



But I refuse to let it ruin Pushkar completely - its a beautiful little town and aside from this one seedy aspect I think it's a great break from the madness of the big Indian cities. I loved that every day on my way to dancing the locals would call from their shopfronts with "Namaste" "Nice salwar kameez madam" "I like this colour" some of the crazy things they say to get you to look at their shopwares. And the chai that is instantly offered when you browse their store - but just know that you really should buy something if you plan to sit chat, have chai and take up so much of their time. I saw too many tourists do it for the chai and the chat with a local experience and over time this is only going to piss them off.



Some days it was too hot and I lazed on the hotel roof or on my balcony shared with my resident gecko so fat from mosquitoes that he was the size of a baby blue tongue lizard! But that makes sense why I never gotten bitten in my room with no net or lotion on.



One little old man that has made an impression and I hope to visit next time was located on the corner next to the hotel. He sells the usual water, juice and toilet paper, but also does paintings for people. There are many of these in the main bazaar but because this guy is out of the way he is more price competitive and nicer to tourists. On the day I arrived he was doing the most beautiful Shiva and Pavarti painting and everytime I walked past I would compliment him on how good it was coming along. We had this little exchange everyday with each new painting. Then one day he said he wanted to show me something and to follow him. Normally I wouldn't walk into a building with some random but I could tell he was fine and that he had something to share. Upstairs in his small flat that he shares with his wife and son is this huge canvas stretched approx 5-6 metres wide. Some German restaurant owner has this picture of police on one side of a bridge and party goers on the otherside. They were just starting and had one day to complete this for him - painted by 3 men in total. It was amazing so over the next day he kept calling me back to check out it's progress. He loved his work and it was very special to see this being handed down to his son. I promised that next time in Pushkar I would come prepared and have some pictures for him to paint.



When my time drew to a close in Pushkar I was ready and happy to move on, it had been a little too long and I'm learning that I like to stay a few days and then move one. Plus after being headbutted in the gut by a cow (it was an accident on both our parts) and I have dodged enough cow crap for a life time - they say Paris is bad with dog poo - visit Pushkar and think of the poor lady who is sweeping that into her dustpan every morning.



Next stop Amritsar....

Bus ride Jaipur to Pushkar - March 2010

Getting from Jaipur to Pushkar should have been a lot easier but this is India and you sign up for adventure and pushing the boundaries when you agree to come here. To buy intercity bus tickets in India you can get a rickshaw down to the bus station a couple of days before and you are sorted. Being the internet lover that I am, I decided there must be an easier online way of booking tickets (sometimes bargaining with the rickshaw driver then trying to work out where and how to buy your bus tickets and who to trust is all too much).

So I found one of the few online booking sites here in India that accepts international credit cards - makemytrip.com. The sight is easy to navigate around and even shows you a floor plan of the bus to let you choose which seats you want - wow! I paid my 60 rupee (under $2 for a 3 hr bus ride) for a sleeper on a non-AC bus. Non-AC seems to scare most tourists that I have met here that swear by Deluxe buses only - they charge a special "tourist price" and lump you on a bus with other foreigners so all the touts are waiting when you reach the other end. My non-AC "Indian" bus has huge what I call suicide windows, that as the bus pulls up at a stop (not sign posted of course just a random petrol station) the locals are there selling Pani (water) and pass them up through these windows so as to not slow the bus down with passengers getting off.

My sleeper was a perfect idea, it meant I could take on my painful huge backpack and have it on the end of the sleeper (a single bed) and not have to stress if anyone is in the hold of the bus rifing through my things. So my sleeper was airy with the huge windows and a curtain and sliding door that locks me out from the rest of the bus - I didn't feel the need to shut the door since I had the curtain, I invited trouble didn't I. So about 20 minutes into the trip, I'm dosing off to sleep with my Bollywood tunes on my ipod and I feel someone shove my foot out of the way and then she sits her butt on one of them anyone. I could only assume that she said she needs to sit there until they sort out her seating problem as I could see her husband arguing (or is that just talking in India?) with the conductor. So as I annoyed as I am at her tone with me and her lack of a polite excuse me expression, I decide to let her sit there for a few minutes until things get sorted.

So after about 10min she starts trying to get comfortable and pushing her way back on the seat - and further still onto my feet. I realise sh probably isn't getting off anytime soon so decide my feet will suffer to ensure that she is as uncomfortable as I am in the hope she gives up and finds her seat. I'm trying not to "sweat the small stuff" but for the next hour I can feel myself psyching up to tell her to move or pay half my ticket if she wants the seat - yes little miss principle strikes again. Just as I've worked out what I'm going to say she leaps off and with her husband and they are leaving the bus. Problem solved.

Arriving into Ajmer - which Lonely Planet says is a 13km bus ride away from the main bus station and only 10 rupees. Sounded easy enough right? What they fail to tell you is that not all buses drop you off at the "main bus station" so in my case I was dropped off randomly and am trying to haul my 27kg+ back pack off the bus - struggling down the stairs with about 20 men all screaming for my business so because no-one was either helping more nor moving out of my way, I shoved my backpack towards them - they moved :)

You know sometimes when you are trying to think and people keep talking to you and they won't stop and you have to tell them to be quiet so you can think? Well at that moment whilst I was trying to get my bearings and work out where the bus to Pushkar left that's what I needed - them to be quiet so I could look and think - yeah right! So I walked off like I knew where I was going and like my bag was only 1kg - it was all dirt so I realised I was going to have to use it as a backpack - again easier said than done. They are all crowding around me shouting, I'm saying "no thank you" and squatting with my day pack on the front as I try to gracefull put this damn curse of a backpack on without stepping on my salwar kameez top as I get up AND trying to find the strength in my thighs to get up without tipping backwards and giving these men the satisfaction that this woman is going to need our help. I did it but I felt like I nearly burst an artery in my brain.

There was a dread-locked Canadian with his backpack and guitar also looking for the bus to Pushkar so we agreed to work it out together and I was secretly thinking I have someone who can help with my bag if needed - cheeky cheeky. So everyone is telling us that there is no bus to Ajmer, instead to go with them somewhere?? I ignored them and walked off determined to find a rickshaw that would drive me to obviously another bus stand wherever on earth that was. I kept getting told 200 rupees and I would laugh and walk off - 10 rupees is what Lonely Planet said for the bus 13km away! Finally one agreed to 10 rupees each and we then realised we weren't moving until they filled this rickshaw up with locals - around 8 of us inside and 2 hanging out. The driver kept yelling at me to hold my backpack so he could fit more people - thinking of comforts sake I conveniently didn't understand what he was talking about, 8 people were more than enough. Eventually we pull up in a busy area and the driver points to a small bus and says "Pushkar" as I'm stepping off the bus a guy grabs my backpack and says "you want to go to Pushkar" - clutching my bag strap I ask him how much and which bus as I could see they were all fighting for my business - 20 rupee later and I got him to agree to carry my bag to the bus and across the road we went. The bus was a third of the council/government buses around the world so technically that should comfortably seat 20 people? Ha Ha I stopped counting at 77! They found this spot in the rear extirior of the bus and managed to squeeze my bag in there and it took 3 men to push the door closed on my bag :) and out of no where he pulls out this key the size of an A4 page saying "no worries mandam bag is safe".

It took about 30 min to go the 13km distance through the mountains to Pushkar from Ajmer. i chuckled because at one point through the sharp mountain bends I felt like we were in the Afghan mountains (yes another dream). I knew we were close when I saw my favourite (not) huge Pushkar monkies running a muck on the towns outskirts.

We pulled into a huge dirt carpark - the bus station and piled out the bus. I had read that you can get a guy with a kind of fruit cart to push your bags to your hotel - he found me and offered to push me and my bag for 20 rupees. The fruit seller ladies had a bit of a chuckle looking at this silly foreign woman sitting ontop of this cart with my bag. The guy seriously had chicken legs and sticks for arms, I have no idea how he found the strength to push me the 1km or so to my hotel. We arrived at a huge fortress gate of my hotel in Pushkar.

Next blog... Pushkar

Holi 2010

Holi Holi..... the most colourful festival on earth! So the day after the Elephant Fair is Holi festival, its always held at the start of summer to say bye to Winter and celebrate good harvest (again so I have been told).

In the week leading up to Holi, all the local stores have a table out the front selling either little bags of coloured Holi dust or you buy it by the grams from the pyramid of coloured dust they have made. They also sell water pistols as you not only throw coloured dust, but now the thing that the kids love to do the most is mix the coloured dust with water and spray it at people on Holi day.

So we woke Holi morning - felt like the excitement of Xmas day and got into our "Holi clothes" that we bought especially to be ruined by the dust. At 9.30am we headed up to the roof of our homestay as we had agreed to play Holi with the family before we headed off to the project co-ordinators house to play Holi with her family and the rest of the volunteers. When we stepped out onto the rooftop we started to laugh as we saw the father and their guests all covered in yellow and orange dust and just casually sitting their eating special Holi sweets (that we made the night before). The visitors stood up and wished us a happy Holi and then took great joy in showing us this is how you celebrate - again the gentle approach with one thumb mark pulled up our forehead then a cheeky clapping of a handful of colour on both our cheeks - let the games begin!

From the safety of the roof we were able to observe the madness on the street below - neighbours coming outside with trays or bags of colour to "bless" each other. Just think of the neighbour you have always hated and use Holi as an excuse to seek the ultimate revenge and it would be considered a blessing! Kids were running mad with their huge water pistols spraying at everyone and everything in their path - including cars driving past with open windows!

Our driver came to pick us up and take us to the house we were to celebrate at and have lunch - we were told its not safe to use public transport on Holi Day and I have to say I am very happy we listened as it was madness on the roads. I couldn't stop laughing when I saw an old grandmother in full sari sitting on the back of a motorbike elegantly but covered in bright pink Holi dust along with her driver. This scene was repeated our entire trip - to the point where we pulled into one residential area and there all these men in their white kaftans and pants covered in the multi coloured dust and walking behind our car so they almost looked like zombies - I would have photographed it except that the windscreen was so dirty the camera couldn't focus.

Sitting in the car we all agreed that the rest of the volunteers were probably waiting for our arrival and hidden in the garden to attack us with colour. As we pulled up we had other concerns - a street full of kids came running towards the car waiting for us to get out so that they could get us. As the car was a van cheekily I told the girls to run out the right door and as they became the bait, I jumped out the left door and ran in through the main gates ha ha. Lucky for me the other volunteers were nowhere to be seen and were still in bed!

We met grandma and grandpa who own the homestay and grandpa was already covered in multi colours - I took a photo as it was very cute. They were getting visitors all day and the same routine would pan out - the oldies would arrive in their whites holding a tray of colour and would gently bless each other by wiping some on each other's face and then when the young one's would arrive they would start using the dust and move onto the water holi which we all concluded we hated as it was cold and the colours wouldn't leave your skin.

It was definitely agreed that dust Holi leave much nicer colours on your clothes than the dark purple/black that appears from mixing all the colours with water. When we finally got all the volunteers together we decided to try taking on the kids in the neighbourhood - I even had military precision strategy that two of us call them up the laneway and once they are all up our end, that the others come from around the back and lock them in - terrible I know!

Somehow we realised that some of the young boys were using car grease and wiping it on people's faces??!!! Suddenly water seemed so innocent.

The daughter of our co-ordinator had her male "friend" turn up and we watched our own Bollywood film unravel infront of us - all we could smirk is "friend sure he is" they were sickeningly romantic taking turns at attacking each other with dust and ignoring everyone else. I thought it was funny that that grandparents sat watching knowingly that another marriage is on the horizon soon!

Our driver was taking us back home when we were hit by a car from the rear - we all jolted forward but no one hurt- the crazy man who hit us, no doubt drunk on Holi day looked at us, smiled and drove off! In true Indian style our driver smiled and said "No problem" hopped out of the car and inspected the damage, laughed and off we drove. No number plates written down or exchange of details - you own a crap car so who cares!

So we enjoyed a delicious Indian lunch, ate even more sweets and got to take part in a crazy festival of colour that could only be compared to the tomato throwing festival in Spain. Incredible India!