back in ahmedabad for the wedding, my father's home city, the capital of gujurat and a bustling, metropolis in northwest india.

ceremonies and family. my cousin from australia and aunt and uncle, my sister and dad, grandma and great aunts, cousins, neices and nephews and more uncles and aunties. amanda and i got mehendi (henna) on our hands and danced the night away to indian classical music (sort of). we drank chai and ate cookies for breakfast. we watched marriage ceremonies: my cousin being bathed in turmeric paste, the burning of cow dung patties, special rituals, fires, costumes and flowers, songs and music. she's a married woman now. weird, i remember when she was just a wee baby, i guess i'm getting old. after five days we hopped on a bus and headed north to where we are now, udaipur.

the flat plains of gujurat gave way to the hills and rocky cliffs of southern rajasthan. elephants now mixed with camels, and the men cao draped in giant, brightly coloured turbans and white knee length shirts. the women in coloured saris. we're in rajasthan now, a collection of princely states figureheaded by maharajas. a land of palaces and holy temples, of camels and pastel coloured buildings, lakes and rivers against a backdrop of palms and desert brush.

udaipur is known as the 'white' city and white represents purity. most cities in rajasthan have been designated a colour: jodhpur is blue, jaipur pink, jaisalmer gold and so on. we're staying at lalghat right on the enormous pichola lake, our rooms looks out on the water and the mystical lake palace. we spent today wandering through the city palace, rajasthan's largest, and are heading to an ancient jain temple in ranakpur on a day trip tomorrow.

we've decided to stay a couple of more weeks and will be here until just before christmas.

Labels: india, rajasthan, travel

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if you've had enough of cow poo. enough of being hassed 24-7. enough of diesel fumes and honking. enough of touts. enough of the mazes of alleyways and scabby, mangey stray dogs. enough of the sweltering heat. then you should come here. come to goa.

goa, india. the tiny, former portugese colony on the west coast of the indian subcontinent. beaches run down the 100 or so kilometre shoreline. not just any beaches, but the most beautiful i've ever seen in my life (and i've seen a lot of beaches). take the best of thailand, hong kong, hawaii, those of southern california, croatia, greece and turkey...mix them all up into one, add some hippies, sprinkle on a few beach-cows and beach-dogs and you've got goa.

i've been throughout the province, on my last trip to india, so i thought i'd skip out on southern goa and the bigger cities of panaji, margao and mapusa this time with amanda.

we headed to morjim. a tiny stretch of sand just north of the chapora river, that faces out into the arabian sea. we found a beach hut at the goan cafe, a little shack of bamboo on stilts that faced the sea and spent three nights swimming and suntanning, laying around in hammocks, eating fresh caught, grilled prawns and lobster in lemon-garlic, sipping on feni: the goan liquor of fermented coconut or cashew and staring up into the night sky...thousands of stars, the waves crashing. morjim is fairly low-key on the goan beach circuit. few come here, and there's not much to do other than lie around and swim.

from morjim, we headed south a few kilometres to anjuna, the centre of goa's trance-party scene. we arrived just in time for the huge anjuna wednesday market, where vendors from all over goa gather to sell their wares. everything from tattoo parlours to sarongs, to carvings and masks, sculptures, bed covers, hashpipes and hookahs sit under the sun. it's a maze of stalls, covering a good two or three kilometres square near the southern end of the beach. the same night we ended up drinking in excess and wandering the beach to 'curlie's bar' and playing with the phosphorescence in the waves. bats flew outside our room and sipped on the palm sugar dripping from giant flowers across from our deck, spiders built webs in our bathroom, ants lived off crumbs on the floor.

a few days passed on anjuna and again northwards, past morjim beach to arambol. arambol was once considered "undiscovered" and "the jewel of the north" but these days are long gone. hippies smoke chillim pipes and hash in the restaurants, fire poys spin in the hands of the unexperienced wanderers who come here, israelis on europeans..and russians, drums beat, and children play cricket on the long stretch of white sand the encircles arambol's bay. there's a craggy northern headland that juts out and is lined with shacks selling sarongs and jewellery and the main road to the beach is jam-packed with restaurants and shops. nevertheless, it's beautiful here and quiet, if you can find the silence, and hot. hot hot.

tomorrow we're hopping a bus for the 14 hour overnight ride back to mumbai and then a 12 hour overnight train ride to ahmedabad in gujurat for my cousin's wedding.

Labels: goa, india, travel

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bombay is india's masala city...spicy mix, that is. the largest slum in all of asia surrounds a hustling-bustling metropolis. i want to say that over half of mumbai's population lives in these slums, and i can, because i'm right...it's 55%, at last count. tar paper shacks, with tin roofs, crumpled billboards as walls, dogs chasing chickens, a mishmash of electrical wires, cows. the toilet is just along the road, an open stretch of asphalt. while rich indian's zoom by in air-conditioned ambassador cars, square and 'spitting diesel fumes', naked children defecate in the street. they rummage through piles of garbage and wipe with old plastic bags. these are the slums.

enter the city and it's like you've stepped into another planet. british colonial buildings, high domes, manicured gardens and churches. street stands selling lunch and sugarcane juice, covered bazaars up and down every street. pick yourself up an ipod charger, socks, a bag, fake rolex watches, a dildo, a pineapple...you name it.

we stayed in south bombay, in the foreigner-fueled annex of colaba, just ten minutes south of the gateway to india. our room smelled like sewage. drug dealers try to sell us hash-hish, opium, grass...whatever we desire. there's a subway nearby...yeah, a SUBWAY, and we buy sandwiches for breakfast. i eat a chicken tikka masala on wholewheat, a foot long, with mint ginger chutney and tonnes of veggies. it's incredible.

we pass by the gateway to india, a monolithic stone gate looking out over mumbai's eastern harbour. tourists gather here snapping photos. boats head to the caves at elephanta island. the water is toxic...you can't swim, and flotsam and jetsam, crumpled plastic bags and juice boxes gather in the corner of the bay. just behind us is the massive and majestic and beautiful taj hotel. rooms here run about $245US/night to upwards of $500US/night. it's got a street-level arcade of fancy shops, gucci, prada and blahblah, a tennis court, pools and bars, a nightlcub, a gym...oi! it's a nice place to stay i'm sure. we peek in the windows.

from there we head northwest up veer nariman street to the regal cricle and check out the art deco regal cinema, then up mahatma gandhi road towards the flora fountain, a beautiful stone neo-gothic fountain erected to the "glory" of the british general who dismantled bombay's fort. we head east to horniman circle and i find the exact same ear-cleaner who i met and photographed two years earlier. he's in the same spot, cleaning ears. we have ours done and after some swishing and squeaking, we can hear like cats.

back westwards to st. thomas' cathedral. below the stone slabs are interred the remains of malaria victims and british generals. we go on towards chowpatty beach, the long stretch of sand and curved bay of mumbai's western side. stop by the mocha bar on the way and smoke a 'blue lagoon' flavoured hookah and drink fresh juicy mocktails. it's nice and relaxing. up north on chowpatty we make our way up malabar hill towards the 'towers of silence'. these towers formed of three concentric rings are where zoroastrians, or Parsi's in India, leave their dead to be picked clean by giant vultures. we can see the vultures but the towers are off limits.

back home.

the next day is diwali, the indian festival of light. a huge holdiay celebration where indian's invite the goddes mahalaxmi into their homes by lighting candles and lamps and fireworks and leaving money to attract her. she brings more wealth along with her. we head to northwest mumbai to check out haji ali's mosque. legend has it that haji died while sailing on a pilgrimage to mecca. his coffin was tossed overboard and it floated back to this spot. so they built a mosque here. it's reached along a long causeway, crowded with pilgrims and lined with beggars. they shake their deformities, for pity, missing legs and limbs, festering sores. they chant "eee-y'ALLAH! eee-y'ALLAH!" in unison. at high tide, the causeway is underwater and the mosque becomes an island. on the way out we stop by mahalaxmi dhobighat, an enormous collection of tiny sinks where all of mumbai's laundry is washed. it comes from all over the city, is washed, dried, folded and sent back to whenst it came...each and every day. a sight to see, though amanda thought it was stupid.

from there it was back to chowpatty beach for famous behlpuri, a plate of rice crispies and cilantro, beans, cheese and spices scooped up with little puffs of bread. then faludas, cream and sugar and milk and tapioca looking things, some rice noodles, rose water and kulfi (punjabi ice cream) with a spoon. sounds weird but tastes great.

we walk down the beach to the saltwater grill. prices here are what we'd pay back home, maybe more...for india, we've just gone fine-dining. $14 for a mojito, $8 for a smoked samon-herb cream cheese bagel. we eat and drink and watch the diwali fireworks from the beach. it's nice to be served well, and lie back in a nice restaurant.

on the way home we pass hundreds of revellers lighting fireworks along the beach. it's a shame that all the spent firecrackers will probably just be dumped into the sea at the end. children so young i wouldn't trust them with a spoon, run around with matches lighting fireworks and firecrackers. they stand only a few feet away. ash rains down on my head. bang, kaboom, snap...everywhere. toxic smoke in the air. amanda runs screaming. all the way down the beach. i see truck loads of fireworks being unloaded. this could go on for some time.

we finish the night off at leopold's bar. a mumbai institution for foreigners. it's been here since 1871. they serve cheap food, good drinks and you get the kind of service you'd expect back home, from english speaking waiters. ice cold beers, giant pitchers in clear tubes that sit on the table (hard to explain but i'll post a video later). it's fun. we eat, we laugh, we go home to the sewage room and sleep.

next: GOA...

Labels: bombay, india, mumbai, travel

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i'm sitting in an internet cafe in varanasi. you can find me in the heart of the old city, and i mean 2000 years old, smack dab between pandhey ghat and dasaswamedh ghat on the ganges river. it's hot. smoking hot...and i'm smoking. smoking pine lights, in a white pack with a blue logo. they're shit but only 25 rupees (60 cents). someone just sneezed. a sadhu walks by outside. he's given up all his earthly possessions to pray and bathe in the ganges. his hair is long and dusty, he's wearing orange.

there's a fly in my hair. i'm coughing up polluted air.

varanasi is one of the oldest habitations on earth, second only to damascus in syria. some people think it's older. we're on the west bank of the ganges river. a holy, holy place. the locals call her mother ganga. ghats (or stepped docks) line the western bank. stairs lead up to the ancient, crumbling buildings and tiny alleys of the old city. some shops are big enough for only one person, the shop keeper, and even then, he has to sit. he retrieves whatever you'd like from the floor around him. cows walk by. dogs nap in the shady spots, wherever they may be. sometimes the middle of an alleyway, though i can barely stretch my arms across.

we're plagued with blackouts from the water treatment plant. uses too much energy. they last for hours, every day, every night. it's unexpected and we lie in the heat in our room, waiting for the fan to come back on.

the shopkeepers perform puja offerings every morning. wafting incense over their products, a little on the toilet paper, a little over the cigarettes, don't forget some on the bottles of coke and mango maaza. the corners of buildings are stained red from men spitting betel nut juice, from paan, sweet paan, paan with tobacco. i'm outside, though i feel like i'm inside, the eaves of the old buildings enclose the streets. a rat, a cat, a ferret, or was it a weasel? children are crying, some are flying kites.

we walk to the river. someone offers us a boat trip, a massage, a haircut, a shave, postcards, flowers, silks...it's too much. we dodge piles of manure. men and women bathe in the water. children run naked and splash. dunk themselves, wash away their earthly sins, reset their karma.

at manikarnika ghat, corpses burn. twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty five days a year. burning corpses. the air is sweet with the smell of sandalwood...and blistered flesh. swallows fill the skies above the smoke, darting in and out, nipping at flecks of ash and insects. the air is thick with insects, we breathe them in. we cannot take photos here, so instead we sit and watch people burn. their souls released to the sky.

Labels: india, travel, varanasi

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shimla. the british raj-era summer-capital of india, not less than 2200 metres above sea level in the foothills of the himalayans, the winding alleyways trickle down the cliffs and puff smoke, sandalwood incense, the stench of sewers and the sweet of punjabi jalebis (gooey orange whorls of deep fried sugar syrup).

of course, we managed to take a night bus to save on accomodation. the driver and his helper seemed to be running some sort of side-business, picking up strangers and friends on the streets along the way, between dharamsala abnd shimla, and dropping them off a little bit further down the road, 10 rupees here, 20 rupees there. all in good indian-business-like tactics. but, the problem, at least for us, was that we were sitting right behind the front door of the bus, and every time they opened and closed, or forgot to be closed, we froze. the wind and night air in india's northern hill stations is pretty damn cold. long pants, a jacket, a scarf, even a toque are definitely in order.

shimla was a bit of a disappointment though. our hotel was crappy, cold and overpriced. our room was decently large, but painted pepto-bismol pink, the bed adorned with a giant velvet heart. mirrors smeared with brown something or other (for the "look") plastered on the walls and ceilings. we paid for hot water. sometimes we had some, and other times we had no water at all (more often than not).

the city requires a lot of walking, up and down stairs, up and down hills. it's tiring and there's not a lot to see.

we hired a taxi and went to the jakhu monkey temple on the hill. a winding road all the way up a mountain just outside shimla. amanda almost lost it on several occasions and i was relegated to hand-holder extrordinaire, the wheels of the van just barely scraped by the edge of the road. the temple is devoted to hanuman, the hindu monkey god. rhesus macaques line the street and path all the way up. devotees give them prasad (food offerings) so they've gotten out of control. we had to rent two big wooden sticks at the bottom of the path, and let me tell you that the hike did not come without some frightened screaming...from the both of us. these monkeys are freaky.

we celebrated halloween at "THE BAR" in shimla's ritz cineplex. amanda dressed up like a cat, and i decided to keep it safe and not dress up as anything, i know...lame. she got some pretty wild stares and giggles from indians on the walk to the bar. unfortunately it was empty, except for a foreigner we met who's been living in south india working on oil rigs.

anyways, that's that. i'm in varanasi now. it's hot. it's great. we had an ant attack in the room, but i'll tell you about that later.

Labels: india, travel

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