Goodbye travel, for now.

And so we arrive at the end of my first stint of travelling. I have of course learnt fluent Hindi, begun to save the world and "found myself."
Except that I've done none of those things.
My knowledge of Hindi extends to Nameste and Hatcha (if they are even spelled correctly) and the ever useful head wobble...Kirsty will confirm my mastery of this spontaneous and brilliant movement..."Did you just wobble your head at me?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN? Stop it!!"
The world is far to big and messy for me to save in 3 months. I need at least 4.
As for finding myself, I'm not aware of ever losing myself. I still don't know what I'm doing, now or at any future point..but what is it that the Sunscreen Song says? "Some of the most interesting people I ever knew didn't know what they wanted to do with their lives at 40." Everyone knows that is the voice of wisdom. If only I'd heeded the always wear sunscreen part. Maybe I wouldn't have a peely nose now.
So what did I get out of this?
Well, I saw some amazing places. Quick Top 3:
Annapurna Trail
Khajuraho Temples
Sunrise on the Varanasi Ganges
Did some great things:
Motorbikes around the hills of Shimla
Houseboat on the Kerelan Backwaters
Camel ride in the Rajastan desert
Some not so great moments/character building episodes:
Attempt kidnap in Khajuraho by diamond smugglers
Being stalked in Ooty by a man who freely admits it "I' ve been following you for an hour...I fell over three times."
Being stuck at Patna.
Acquired some great catchphrases (including movement):
Bam! (pelvic thrust with sunbathing arms...2 bams each side)
Big Dal Bhat
Hello sir, Jeff? Kristy?
Ice cream?.....you look as if you like ice cream.
Small fat baby
(phonetically) connetichek! (Dutch for super crazy)
.....am I boring you with in jokes?
And met some awesome people. No top 3 here..you all deserve to be named :D So thanks to Jure (you are always number 1!), TomTom, Jiga, Phil and Roy (our biker boys), Drew, Ismail and Faran, David, Amrit (a wonderful guide) and Krishna (a machine)... and last but not least, Holland, card games cheaters and tellers of riddles, Tjerk and Hicham.
Boys, you all made our trip!
But not as much as one person who I not only love but would tolerate for at least 97 years of happy marriage: my travel wife. I'm already planning our next venture so start saving. And expect me to invite myself over a lot..I can't sleep alone anymore.
So I had the best time basically. Can't believe I'm returning to real life. You know I not only haven't had to work for months, I haven't even had to lift a finger..how do I make tea again? I'm back on Thursday though so pop the kettle on, will you?

Good Karma

These past few days have been ones of enlightenment. You can see how easily sensible people morph into hippie types in ali-baba trousers. If it wasn't for the fact that ali-baba trousers look ridiculous on me I might consider joining them.
I write this blog from Varanasi, the magical holy city of Hinduism and we arrived to a particularly enchanting day: the festival for (I think) Shiva. The banks of the Ganga were lined with candlelight, incense wafted along the banks, fireworks lit up the sky, and a few holy cows strutted through the general melee of the devout, the festive and the spectators.
So many people spoke to us, as always, so we had good feelings about this joyful culture.
The next day, however, was an eye-opener. We took a boat ride to see the Burning Ghat. You see the thing Varanasi is most famous for is being the place that people come to die. If you die here and your remains scattered in the sacred Ganga, you can escape the cycle of reincarnation and go straight to Nirvana.
A priest came aboard our boat to explain. He seemed very devout, kind, thoughtful. But part of what he told us made me quite angry. The caste system (which technically has been abolished but in reality...) Is an integral part of the belief system. Basically if you do well in this life, in the next you get to move up a caste. Within your life, no. If you are born an Untouchable, a beggar, a street sweeper, you will die the same. No genius or ambition or kindness on your part can change that. There is no escape except into the Ganga.
For such a beautiful faith it seems rotten at the core.
Now, I must say that this is changing. Probably it is mainly here in the holiest of places that clings to the old ways. In the rest of the country, the very poor remain the very poor because they don't know how to get out, or because as children they are made to beg on the streets to earn money instead of going to school.
Which brings me to Bodgaya. We made a short trip here, to the place where Buddha sat meditating under a Bodhi tree for many weeks and achieved enlightenment.
Another city of temples for another faith. This time instead of the whirl of colour and light we were greeted by the calm stone face of a 25 ft Buddha and a temple of still water and the sound of gongs. And also by a young Nepalise man called Mikku.
Mikku, who trained for two years as a child monk is in Bodgaya to teach and work at an Orphanage. Elizabeth Children's Home. After taking us around the city and explaining the monuments and telling us funny stories about monkeys, Mikku took us to visit the children at the home. We were introduced to all the 32 children in residence, each shook our hand and introduced themselves in English and then they sang a song for us, while the youngest, Matthew, sat on my knee. At less than a year he came in tiny and malnourished, and now here was a happily heavy baby.
The school is Christian founded (hence the Biblical names and halleluiahs) but mainly run by Buddists. As Mikku said, we are all the same anyway. And the same is now true for the children. Instead of being orphans on the street, and getting stuck in their caste and downtrodden position, they are learning Hindi, English, science, being cared for, smiling, and eventually getting a good reference for a good job.
I hate to sound cliche about it all, but it was humbling to see the good things that people like Mikku do in the world. And I hope by sharing this good work, I might get a little good karma too.

Post from Varanasi

We all love getting mail. There is always something so exciting about seeing your name handwritten on an envelope. Words that have flown through the world just for you. Perhaps letters from the bank or HMRC ruin this feeling somewhat. They can keep their words frankly...I don't understand them anyway.
And here in India I have so many words to send. When I get home I'm probably going to be one of those annoying people who constantly drop into the conversation "when I was in India..." I apologise in advance. There is soooo much to take in though, and with "goggles" (as a man we met yesterday thought eyes were called) that are wide open for the weird and wonderful even the smallest thing becomes a story.
We got up early this morning to watch the sunrise over the Ganges and I was immediately inspired to write an overly lyrical paragraph in my diary in honour of the event. And whilst eating my cornflakes I wrote a poem about kites. Too much?
So expect gushing postcards from me, where everything is magical. Particularly here in Varanasi, which IS magical.
Because not only do I like to receive words (and feel free to send me post whenever you like...or maybe email in India as I'm addressless), you may have noticed that I also like to give them. I'm not selfish you know. Besides which it costs about £1 to buy and send a postcard...if that.
Also, you are often bullied into buying postcards by brightly clad women who stick bundis to your forehead so I may as well send them to you or I'll have rucksack full of them, and I'd rather fill it with new hippy clothes.
Hmm...I really don't think I'm sticking to the point today. Those kites have made my brain wander, I'm still thinking about playing the sitar and worrying about whether the mud I got on my flip-floped foot yesterday was in fact cow pat...or worse :s I won't put that in my postcards though, or any emails. I don't want everyone to know I have poo foot. You can expect only the magic. And in return feel free to send me a "no news but I'm a big fan of your work" email a la my sister. Thanks Becca, I may have read that wrong but I know that's what you meant!
And now I sign off with lots of love,
Jess xx