Sensory overload in Varanasi

The journey was long and arduous, which consisted of a rickshaw to the little boat ferry, crossing on the boat, a rickshaw to Hospet train station, an overnight train of 10 hours to Bangalore city train station,

           

Allison on the overnight train

a taxi to Bangalore airport, a plane to Varanasi and finally a taxi to Hotel Ganesha. 

The taxi drive from Bangalore city railway station to Bangalore airport was of significance to me. The first western type of motorway we've seen since leaving home. It was in the early hours of Thursday morning, approximately 4 am and the driver had coaxed us into his cab and we were on our way at a probably inflated price of 1000 rupees, who were we to argue at this hour and feeling that tired. We were comfortably heading along the motorway and I briefly looked across the lanes to another taxi heading in the same direction, the driver looked like he could barely keep his eyes open, I thought to myself, thank God I'm not that passenger, I kept looking back to see if he'd remained awake, I then turned round and glimpsed the eyes of our driver in the rear view mirror. He was going boss eyed, his eyes were half closed and he was straining to keep them open.

Thoughts of an incident I'd attended at work entered my mind. A cabbie crashed his car taking a gentleman to Heathrow airport, killing himself and seriously injuring the passenger who's luggage was strewn all over the grass verge. There's no stimulant quite like the one of impending doom. I was now wide awake creating conversation with the Bengalaru cabbie, if I couldn't think of something to say I'd do loud, noisy, pretend coughs to keep his attention. We arrived at the airport safe n sound, unless I'm actually dead and writing this from the spirit world.
It took us just shy of 24 hours in total to reach our final destination of this part of our journey, Varanasi, one of the most religious cities on earth.

After dropping off our bags the hotel supplied us a free guide, Ajay who took us out on our first evening to have a brief walk along the ghats (river front steps that lead to the Ganges) as we were shattered. Free, but he liked telling us how much he was paid per month, so we think a donation is kind of expected.

The Ghats

On this our first introduction to Varanasi we were hit by an explosion to the senses. Sound, sight and smell are all attacked from every angle. This may have been heightened due to the fact we'd been travelling for nearly 24 hours so were greatly sleep deprived which amplified every bit of information sent to our sensory nervous system.   

On a bicycle rickshaw ride

The next day we were again met by our free guide Ajay, he'd had incredible reviews on tripadvisor but sadly me and Allison felt no connection with him. There was something lacking, and it wasn't just his skinny, scrawny self, something in his demeanour.

Perhaps he was tired of us westerners, or me and Allison just rubbed him up the wrong way. He'd just walk off in front paying us no attention along the busy, crazy roads and expect us to tuck in and tag along at his pace. We weren't bothered about the usual temple tour, we were more interested in the real Varanasi, the atmosphere, the people, the craziness and to somehow understand it. But understanding this place would take more than a days tour anyway.
We wanted to pay a visit to the Vishwanatha temple (Golden temple) but he was not keen to take us there so arranged for a friend to instead.
We managed to get into the temple after showing the tourist police our passports and claiming we were Hindu's, you have to be to gain entrance. I'm still flogging myself now from this deception. Although I did feel that practising yoga does enable you to say that you are studying a kind of Hindu philosophy, well at least there are some similarities. It was a strange experience, made all the weirder because of the initial deceit, "Ouch!" that hurt, as the flogging continues, but religion is built on forgiveness is it not?

We bumped into the English guy outside the Golden temple, and again later by the Ganges with his two friends

That evening we took a boat trip along the Ganges to take in some of the sights on the ghats, I was relieved that Ajay was not coming and it was only the driver of the boat but then he did not speak any English so we had no idea what was going on, Ajay come back!

I was desperate to have a go at rowing so using my signing skills, basically doing some air rowing, I wangled my way next to El Capitan

I was impressed with myself as I had to keep stopping as the boat would start to spin heavily in his direction. I'd wait for him to straighten it and then continue, but my power was just too great for this little Indian man.

I then wanted to take charge as he was going to slow for me, "out the way, let me take over". Man that oar he was holding was shit, the one I had been using was so much better. I kept spinning the boat in the same direction as before and couldn't use my left hand oar properly. After a few minutes my grip went and I was spinning out of control, I gave up, giving the captain full control of his boat back.

He may be little but he was good!

It was a nice and serene trip considering the intensity of some of the stuff that goes on.
The Hindu's deal with death a lot differently than us westerners. It's on show in full view, not hidden in nursing homes or retirement homes, you can see it. Bodies line up on the steps of Manikarnika ghat, bonfires blaze away as they burn the dead to give them moksha (release from the cycle of death and rebirth).

Photos are understandably frowned upon but I couldn't help myself, bodies align the steps on the right hand side of Manikarnika ghat

We turned back and sat on the boat at Dashashwamedh ghat watching the aarti ritual, a nightly worship to Shiva, the river Ganges and the whole universe.

Priests carrying out the ritual

The river Ganges itself, here in Varanasi is incredibly sacred but also extremely polluted. Faeces, dead bodies, highly toxic chemicals from upstream factories all add to the pollution. Does this matter? To us, yes it does matter, to Hindu's, no it doesn't. They bathe, swim, brush their teeth, wash their clothes and even drink this holiest of holy water. Again their immune systems must be made of more hardier stuff than ours.

 Bathing

 Bathing and doing their laundry, it's left to dry on the ghats where dirt and faeces are aplenty 

A young girl quenching her thirst, it's incredible

The next night I returned to Manikarnika ghat by foot to try and make sense of all the open cremations that go on. Allison had become ill and was in no way able to get out of bed and face the outside, so she holed up in our sanctuary of the hotel room, so I wandered along the ghats alone.
I had read reviews about the ghat, saying that there are a lot of touts in the area hustling for tourists to buy wood to help burn the dead. I had pre-empted how it might all be, quite an intense, stressful experience.
It wasn't! It was actually quite the opposite, calming, respectful, serene, with no hassle whatsoever. They would bring a covered body down the steps on a wooden stretcher whilst chanting. They would place the body on top of an unlit pile of wood. Blessing the body they would then light the fire from underneath, the body would burn and turn to ash. Very open and far from my preconceived ideas.

A man with his monkey

A character of Varanasi

The man you can barely see with white powder on his body is an Aghori, a sect of the Hindu religion. Many Hindu's practise the right way to reach God, the Aghori practise 'the left way', opposite to what others do. They eat animal faeces, drink urine, eat dead humans, practice necrophilia, smoke marijuana, drink alcohol, practise black magic, drink from human skulls. They believe that doing these things allows them to reach God quicker than if you follow the right way. They have a very interesting philosophy and are a very interesting group of people, perhaps I would bypass having a beer with one of these dudes though.

Ready to join the band

On our last day we again headed to Manikarnika ghat (cremation ghat), Allison needed to take a closer look for herself, now she was feeling a lot better. She found it strange that the cremations are so open for everyone to see. 

Like me but even more so she found the Ganges overly filthy and was unable to comprehend the extreme dirt and smell of the place. 

After having a nice meal at Aum cafe we step outside

A contradiction, a Mc Donalds in Varanasi, the furthest away from the western world in terms of lifestyle that we've ever been! Beef anyone? No way, as the cow is sacred here.

The intensity of this place has not diminished from that first evening we arrived, maybe after an extended period here you would get more numbed to how foreign it feels. The dirt, the shit, the piss, the noise, the serenity, the touts, the genuine people, the smell, the poverty, the money and the intense spirituality. This place makes absolutely no sense whatsoever to us, We can't comprehend it. It's a contradiction, It's just everything is so different from what we have come to know. Our clean house, our creature comforts, the bubble in which we live in. This place is like a heavyweight punch in the face "have that, now be on your way"! We don't want it to beat us, We want to understand it but can't seem to fathom how mad it all is. Would we ever come back, never say never.

Cows just freely roam the streets

Sadly there are loads of mangy dogs here

Today, night train to Agra, the Taj Mahal is waiting!

Bon Voyage

  

Don't worry be Hampi

They may take away our lives, but they'll never take our freedom!
Our month in Mandrem is finally up, moving onwards and upwards, literally, first we are heading east then north. It's nice to be moving on, it gives you a sense of freedom that you rarely get at home.

The bus journey from Mapusa (near Mandrem) to Hampi was manageable this time round. I think mainly because the bus could only reach a top speed of roughly 40 mph. Going up hill was a real issue for it and any slower I think we would of had to get off and push the old thing. I could breathe easy and get a bit of sleep, however Allison was constantly awoken by the lights that would be illuminated when stopping for passengers and toilet stops. I use the term toilet lightly, basically to piss by the roadside. Fine for me but more of a challenge for the women, namely Allison.
We've come to the conclusion that the semi sleeper buses are better than their sleeper bus cousins as you are more stable and rolling from side to side is non existent.

We arrived at Mowgli guest house and got settled in. "Do you have a safe where we can leave our passports" I enquired, the receptionist started gesticulating with his fingers , motioning like he was on a keyboard, "you can do it online" he responded. Erm, I think something may have been lost in translation. "Thank you" I said, Looks like I'll be carrying our important stuff then, I thought.

After settling in we headed out as we only had a couple of full days here to see as much as possible. We got the little motorboat across the river to the south side, its costs 10 rupees each and they stack as many people in it as possible.

As many people and a motorbike too

 An elephant bathing in the river as we cross

To save some time we hired a tuk tuk to take us on a whistle stop tour of Hampi's famous architecture. Like the bus the tuk tuk was pretty old and had seen much better days. At least on the bus I didn't have to get off and push. "Get out" said Ravi as the rickshaw came to a standstill going up a hill. I got out and assisted the machine up the hill. "Get in", I got in and we were away.

The old Elephant stables

One of the old statues looked remarkably like Allison

The architecture of the buildings and temples here is magnificent, even so you can get templed out by the end of the tour, temple after temple, building after building. I think it was probably more to do with the beating midday sun and dehydration that made us want to just relax and chill out with a cold drink.
The only thing is, relaxing with a drink is almost impossible here, firstly the only alcohol available is kingfisher beer, which I'm not to keen on because of the added ingredient glycerin. The other difficulty with relaxing with food or drink, is simply the flies! Loads of the little buggers, you have to be constantly on your guard as they keep landing on you, your plate, your glass, everything.

I lift my cup of chai for one second and the buggers start landing

The landscape of Hampi is like nothing I've ever seen, the sheer number of the granite rocks is immense. The majority are broken into huge boulders piled up on top of each other. In mythology they say that the boulders were thrown at each other by two princely monkey brothers at war, and they just kept on throwing, and the rocks kept on stacking. Who am I to argue with that. Geologists have a different theory but who in their right mind would believe them?

On our second day we hired a scooter and headed out on the north side of the river. We took in more of the amazing rock formations, many that look like they are defying gravity by teetering on the edge of other boulders.

On our journey we bumped into these two kung fu fighting individuals

From our daytime geological activities we were knackered. After sharing lunch with the flies we debated whether to watch the sunset from Anjanadri hill or just chill with a bottle of the only alcohol that was available. Luckily we chose the former, taking off on the scooter we headed for the 600 steps that make there way up the hill (which is more of a cliff really). On ascending we kept meeting different Indian families either going up or coming down, "hi, hi" the children would say very excitedly.

 One boy who was also making his way up decided to leave his family for dust and challenge me to a race to the summit, Obviously he was only young so I let him take off and reach the top first. Of course I didn't let the young pretender do that, giving him just enough lead to instill confidence in him, I reeled him in like a fish.

The young pretender, he had to wait for his family to catch up, lucky for me.

At the top we were met by monkeys, some braver than others.

Our last few hours in Hampi were over on the south side of the river. We were ready for some more temples and as we had missed one out on our tuk tuk trip we decided to see it before we left. 

The highlight was getting blessed by an elephant.

Elephant showing me some love

Look who we bumped into

They said they didn't want any money, but then guess what, like everyone including us, they did.

If Goa is Russian, Hampi is decidedly Israeli, let's see what Varanasi has in store for us.  

Mandrem surprise

Afro and Latin dance workout it said on the flyer. Yep, I'm up for some of that, I've got rhythm and some moves, no problem. 

Me and Allison went down to beach street so we could partake in the free initial dance class. The instructor was a camp guy who hailed from Bromley. The Latin beats begun along with his movement and step instructions. What was this? My left and right feet became two left feet! My hips could not move freely like the teacher, they were stiff and lethargic. To top it off I'd positioned myself at the front of the group thinking I was John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Thoughts of my poor departed old man kept entering my head. Bob (my dad) had no rhythm, he had no moves, he was that embarrassing man at the wedding party who would dance to a totally different tune. Like father like son. A cross ward glance at Allison, mistake! I still hadn't learnt not to look to wifey for solace at my own shitness.

She's got the moves!

                                           The view from our Afro, Latin dance workout

Keeping secrets isn't easy for me and when Jade mentioned that not only her and Roni were coming out to Goa but also Allison's sister Fiona and niece Laurene, I had a mammoth task ahead of me. Keep the fact that Fiona and Laurene were also coming a secret, keep this secret for three weeks. Not having anyone else to talk to apart from your wife, letting slip was only going to become more tempting. I wanted to sing it from the rooftops. "You know your sister and niece are also coming!!". But I surprisingly remained steadfast in my tight lippedness.

Surprise surprise, when the unexpected hits you between the eyes. We waited patiently for the imminent arrival of Roni, Jade and secret arrival of Fiona and Laurene. I had my camera in one hand and mobile to video the arrival in the other. "Oh my God, Oh my God", this became Allison's new chant as the two stowaway's stepped out of the taxi. Her surprise carried on through the evening as she was still in disbelief of the other two's sneaky presence.

The Arrival. 

"I'm going to get a taxi back" I informed Allison as I tagged along whilst they all looked round Arambol market. Looking round shops at knick knacks with five women who stop at each individual store to peruse the items on sale is probably the furthest away from what I would class as having a good time. But women absolutely love it? Give me a nice chair, cold beer and a DVD, ahh and bliss! Talking about bliss, I left them and wandered off up the road. He was walking towards me with two women. They turned down a dark alleyway, I followed, keeping my distance. I felt like I was a private detective. I needed a photo, how could I approach him without seeming crazy? I've got it! I walked passed him, stopped by the light at the bottom of the alleyway and pretended to be on a phone call, as he got close... "I recognise you, you were at Amma's Ashram?" I said, "yes, I was there" he replied. I told him I had seen others in Arambol who had also been at Amma's, the hugging mothers Ashram. "Can I take your photo as I'm taking photos of people who I cross paths with on my journey", "yes, no problem". "What's your name?" I enquired, "Mariano" he responded. Was I coming on to him? Was his presence too much for this heterosexual, firefighting male? No! I was just overly excited about seeing him again.

Thanks, see ya Mariano.

He was a nice guy, smile and all. I then wandered off, not angry, not pissed off, more ecstatic that I'd actually seen him again and wasn't going mad by imagining his presence.

Mariano, still in bliss

It's funny, people assume that when you come to India you get Delhi belly. That was correct for me, regurgitation in full effect! But a guy on the Yoga course Allison is assisting on experienced the polar opposite to this. No Delhi belly, just constipation for eight days. Mild relief came on the eighth day. The use of glycerin suppositories, two hard core bottles of laxatives, olive oil and other methods to coax out his poop all failed. A brown rice diet that would normally create some solid stools created no stools at all. I told him to go back on a diet of beer and burgers, perhaps that will entice a more regular pattern. 

The drum circle in Arambol is a nightly ritual where an influx of hippified characters descend onto the beach at sunset to drink, smoke dance enhancing weed and generally groove to the beat of the drum. When in Rome, we descended, we danced, rocking some serious shapes on the sandy dancefloor, I did have riddim, as the tribal beats took over me. Jade and Roni decided to share their new groove with a circle of dancing Indian men, that is until and unwanted advancement made them both make a hasty exit.

     Roni & Jade before hasty exit

In the groove

We spent the whole of Thursday on a family outing to the Basilica of Bom Jesus in Old Goa , a spice farm plantation and Mangeshi Hindu temple.

On arriving at the Old Goan church we were met by Davinder, a licenced guide of the historic site. "Would you like a geedeh?" he asked, It took me a couple of seconds to figure out what he said, "I don't know, do we want a geedeh?" copying his pronunciation I asked the others. The fee of 100 rupees (roughly a pound) was well spent. He would always follow  the telling of some interesting information by saying "okay, okay, come, come" and then herding us to the next fascinating display. "Ok, ok, come, come", I utter as we continue on our tour of the church. Repeats of his habitual ok's and come's followed by my foolish imitations were met by giggles from the ladies.

       Davinder and crew

The mortal remains of St Francis Xavier who's body is still visible in the church. There is minimal amounts of decay considering he died in 1552. Every 10 years they have a public viewing of his body where millions of Christian devotees flock from all over the world. The last time this happened was 2014.

The spice plantation was next up on the itinerary which was surprisingly more enjoyable than we had expected. A banana spider in its huge web was an added bonus. An overpriced Elephant ride was still worth it just to say you'd done it. Enjoyment was had by all, although Fiona held down the fact that she was crapping herself whilst on the huge beast rather well with her nervous smile.  

I've done it!

Laurene and a scared Fiona holding it down well

The last stop on the tour was Mangeshi temple, a nice pit stop to rest our weary feet but not a must see if your ever in North Goa. A so called Hindu priest approached us, led us to a secluded spot and gave us a spot of fortune telling. I will be getting on with Allison from February 21st he pronounced, I'm actually quite looking forward to that date now. Jade will be getting married in May or June, Roni's marital status will change in July, she's single at the moment so she's got a busy few months ahead. Fiona will be promoted in March, a new home in July. Laurene's writing will be good in April and gain a suitable partner also in July. Allison will be getting a promotion in September even though she's off work till January 2016. His hand was then held out for a tip for his very in depth fortune telling. See ya! We all turned away and scurried off.

It was only a matter of time before we saw it. On the way home a big gathering of people surrounded something in the road. As we got closer the picture became clear. A local  had come off his scooter, he was dead, that was plain to see. The ambulance pulled up as we drove passed.

I can't get over the disregard Indians seem to have for their own safety and well being. I think the west has gone a bit too far with health and safety but the reverse is happening here. They go in the sea here even though they can't swim, apparently a couple of people died last week as the tide just carried them out even though the tide isn't that strong. The lifeguards constantly blow their whistles at the Indians to call them closer into the shore. I think I'd give the ocean a miss if I couldn't swim.  

Our final event of the day was dining in the glorious 'cafe nu' in Mandrem, which is now my favourite restaurant in the whole wide world. It's obligatory to eat there if you are ever in this neck of the woods. 

  Cheers, the fabulous cafe nu

Peppered tuna steak, one of the many dishes we sampled

I officially fell out with our landlord the other day. The Goa day trip that cost us 2000 rupees with Keshav (roughly 20 pounds), Sudhir wanted to charge us 6000, three times the amount. I made it known that I wasn't happy about him trying to rip us off. He took umbrage in me telling him this. In the end he shouted "enough" as I kept repeating that 6000 is way too much to be trying to charge people who have been giving him good business. Which it is, if you are ever here and a taxi driver shows you an unofficial laminated bit of paper with prices on it, it means shit. Haggle the price down before you start your journey. The way Sudhir is is not how everyone is out here, the majority of the Indians I've come into personal contact with are honest people.

Snake in the grass   

The quest to befriend a Russian was rather simple in the end. In fact we had to keep trying not to become friends with our neighbour. A Russian guy who towards the end of our stay here was trying to insist that we party with him and his friend. Even to the point of pulling us into their apartment and forcing us to dance. We managed to make a quick getaway and leave the two high Ruskky's to continue their party as a duo.

The day we left, Paul our Russian neighbour informed me of his disappointment in me, remarking in his broken English "no drink, no drugs, no nothing" 

Paul couldn't hide his disappointment

The others have flown home and we are now off to Hampi by night bus! Whoopi!

     

  

Mandrem continued

I have been lucky enough to be allowed to practice in the mornings with the yoga course Allison is assisting on. Yoga at 06:30am for 2 and half hours, followed by an hour of breathing exercises and meditation. Your overall goal in yoga is to attain enlightenment and the answers are not found outside yourself, the answers come from within grasshopper.
My yoga practising frustrations have remained with me but I'm working on them. The other day a balancing posture that would normally create anger, frustration and a spoken under my breath swear word when fallen out of, remarkably caused an inward laugh instead. I may be getting slightly ahead of myself here as this happy, calm and forgiving way of practising yoga has only happened occasionally. The rest of the time I'm mentally beating myself up.
Am I getting better? I don't know, it's hard to tell with yoga. One day I feel I have energy and more flexibility, the next I feel tight and lethargic.
When we're doing Yoga (Asana) practice I occasionally look across to Allison to get some partial solace that maybe I'm not the only one going through a mental and physical struggle, but it just upsets me even more as she's doing some crazy shit with a pleasant facial expression. Note to self, don't look at wifey when practising Yoga.

Last Friday we did an Osho meditation (he was an Indian Guru). It was a moving meditation with specific movements conducted to specific music. Your right hand is held palm up by your sternum, your left is held palm up at your naval. Step your right foot forward and at the same time slice your hand through the air with a spear like lunging motion whilst verbally making a swooshing sound. Then draw your left palm up drawing up energy swapping places with the right and step your left foot forward, swoooosh. Step sideways right, swoosh, sideways left, swoosh,  diagonally right, swoosh, diagonally left, swoosh. Then back to the beginning. Repeat, repeat, rpt, rpt, swoosh, swoosh. This form of meditation was new to me, but it was good. My energy was there at the beginning, for some reason I was a ninja lunging through the air with weapon in hand. Then my energy dissipated and I became less of a ninja and more of a feeble sloth, I had to concentrate hard to bring that initial energy back to the meditation.

Osho

We buy 20 litre water bottles here, by my excellent mathematical brain I'd hazard a guess that's roughly 20kg (no big deal for this man). I carry it up the stairs and proceed to do some deep squat presses, "be careful" says Allison. Don't you know who I am, this is nothing to me, I think whilst sitting into the squat deeper and faster. Whoa whats that? As soon as I had that egotistical thought my back twinges. Since then I've decided I'm not doing any other form of exercise till I'm happy that my core strength and flexibility have significantly improved. Luckily since then no major issue has arisen.

When you are travelling around a country, you will inevitably bump into people you've met along the way. Allison bumped into Anita, a woman she had first met at Ammas Ashram, she saw her in Atman, an Italian restaurant come beach hut resort in Arambol.
My inevitable bump was more of a surreal nudge. I was walking along the beach, minding my own business without a care in the world. And then I saw him, my doppelganger also from Ammas Ashram. Not all dressed in white now, just plain black shorts on. A part time devotee, I thought, a devotee that walks the walk for a brief moment then reverts back to just being a simple traveller like the rest of us. Although he still had a smile on his face which I didn't mind as much this time round, probably because he didn't look in total bliss and it was more of a natural expression. I wasn't quick enough on the draw to get proof with my camera, I was too in awe of his presence and fumbled at my bag too slowly. He was gone as quick as he arrived, was it him? I need to hunt him down and get evidence of the second coming. Me and Allison both thought we saw him again a few days later, but alas he was going too fast on a scooter to be sure.

A previous photo at Ammas.

The Health and safety at work act does not exist in India, or at least I don't think so. I think they may have rewritten theirs as the hazardous and risk taking at work law. Flip flops, no hard hats and wooden scaffold without guard rails make it easier for potential accidents to happen. On top of the roof they work, hauling stuff aloft with little to no preventative safety measures in place. We heard a big bang the other day and I naturally thought a builder had just fallen braking their neck, what a pleasant surprise when we discovered it was just some building materials.

Not long after I took this photo we heard a thud.

One step backwards and he's a gonner!

Working on an electric pylon, just balancing, no harness, other things look a bit suspect too!

Mandrem

"Do you want to ride the scooter back?" I asked Allison, "yes ok, I may as well". How was I to know that she was lacking in confidence and her previous scooter riding days had abandoned her memory , perhaps she could have told me? I gave her the basic starting up of the vehicle instructions and thought that would be enough. "Keep your hand on the brake, give a little bit of acceleration and press the ignition in", "how do I stop, how do I stop" she says as the bike jolts forward, "use the brakes!" I shout. The bike falls from underneath her and lands on the floor but she remains miraculously on her feet.

I'm more worried about the bike than her which obviously doesn't go down too well, but I can see she is okay and not in any pain. Its not like Agonda here, I had to leave £100 deposit, a copy of my passport and pay for ten days rental in advance. Any damage and I'd have to pay, that is why the scooter took the majority of my attention. "Are you okay" I belatedly ask, no response was forthcoming.
People ride like lunatics here, they speed passed on their scooters and Royal Enfield motorbikes without a care in the world. Shorts, flip flops and without helmets is the bike riding fashion. If you crash you'll feel it.

I wear no protective clothing like I would back home, I take partial solace in the fact that I ride slowly and more safely than the others on these roads. As for the other westerners they try to ride like the Indians but inevitably more often than not come a cropper to their inexperienced sometimes drunken riding skills.

I miss Agonda, it was more chilled and the people seemed nicer down south. Here in Mandrem and especially Arambol people don't seem as honest, I feel like I'm trying to second guess them all the time, do they have an ulterior motive? what is his play? But perhaps its just me and I need to chill out.

I've come to the conclusion that westerners are weak when it comes to our immune systems. I've had a cough more or less since being here, my cold had finally gone after about a month and a sore throat that we both had until we decided on using bottled water to brush our teeth with instead of using tap water. Not only that but the other night whilst in bed I suddenly became nauseous, I dragged myself out of bed and stood over the toilet, hands strategically placed on the cistern, then toilet seat, then slightly above my knees. Nothing came, so I sat down in a chair in the lounge awaiting the inevitable. Back in bed I went, back to the toilet, back in the chair, this continued and it wasn't till the fourth cycle that I found out that the best position to put my hands in was on the toilet seat. I made a sound like a lion as I heaved up the contents of my stomach, "raarrrggghhhh". It felt like my stomach lining and throat were being ripped apart. I then managed to breathe with the heave, so as the contents came up, I exhaled, again I used this method, heave, exhale. It made the throwing up a more bearable experience.

My Delhi belly lasted a night and day, it cleaned out my insides from both ends and then luckily departed as quickly as it came. I finally felt cleansed and able to kickstart my Yoga training in Arambol.
Basically the Indians have stomachs made of steel and must have very strong immune systems. Their insides must have bacteria fighting warriors that crush all comers. Although I'd like to see how they'd get by on a western diet.

I ate a snickers the other day and it was like I had died and gone to heaven. My first chocolate bar since leaving home and it was well worth the wait. Absolutely scrumptious.

We both seem to be settling in more to the way of life here. I was a bit sceptical about spending a whole month here when we first arrived but I think that was just based on our first impressions and accommodation finding experiences. We landed on our feet with this apartment. One thousand rupees a night for a two bedroom apartment with hot water and a washing machine, Get in there!

We were paying exactly the same for the shit shack. I have now paid the whole months money to the owner Sudhir in advance and am still waiting for him to kick us out and replace us with higher paying Russky's but it hasn't happened yet so I think he'll have to put up with us.

                                            Will he or won't he kick us out?
The rest of the apartments in the block are frequented by Russians. There are so many of them here in north Goa, about 80% of the tourists are Russians. I've given me and Allison a task to befriend some before we leave as they all seem so stony faced and unapproachable. Neither of us has had any luck yet, I'll keep you posted.

                                              Everything written in Russian
Apparently the Russians started coming here in the 1990's a bit further down the coast in Morjim. The Russian Mafia bought up a lot of the properties in Morjim and their fellow compatriots started to go on holiday there. They have slowly been moving further up and down the coast and are now the dominant nation in Goa.

At the course Allison is assisting on, there is a meditation course running simultaneously. The only thing is, this isn't a normal kind of meditation. It is an extremely loud and scary kind of meditation, like something I've never heard of, and apparently like good Russians that they are, all this loud meditation takes place at 05:30 in the morning. Fuck everyone else who's sleeping we are gonna scream and shout and make noise like we are murdering someone or being murdered by someone. I haven't witnessed this early morning ritual myself as luckily we decided not to stay there but I did experience a recording of said ritual as another female assistant on the course decided to record it on her phone. If only I could download it to the blog, because if you heard it, you would assume some heavy shit was going down.

Allison is in constant war with the mosquitoes here. Come six o clock in the evening they come out in force for an hour and a half. They buzz around her like a cloud of dirt following pigpen (the peanuts character in Snoopy).

 

We've tried four different types of repellent (two sprays, one cream and one oil) but she must just taste too sweet for them annoying insects. You can almost see them putting on napkins whenever she's about. At least rose water seems to lessen the itch a little bit.

The start of a New Year

NYE in Agonda was a very good experience. We spent the evening with our new friends Andreas and Monica. A German couple who seem to have found the correct balance in life. When they are not at work their spare time is spent travelling the earth and experiencing different countries and cultures. I don't think there are many places they haven't visited. With the great company, fireworks, bonfire, live band, the only let down was the food which turned up cold. By the time it finally did turn up we weren't that hungry anyway as the booze had flowed consistently.
Out of the three Japanese fire lanterns we bought and set off at midnight only one had a successful voyage. I blamed the make of lantern as the two that didn't rise to the occasion were a different brand to the one that took off and ascended to the heavens. Not my fault this time round as I tended to each individual lantern with precision before igniting the fuse.

Walking back along the beach towards Fatimas we stopped at the fenced off turtle hatching area. They were meant to hatch either last night or tonight. Last night we waited till midnight to witness the birth of numerous turtles but felt to exhausted so retired to bed. This night we walked by at 1am, people were waiting but still no sign of the little rascals so off we went to bed. Apparently they hatched at 3am whilst we were fast asleep and I probably had the drunken snores.

After many haggling sessions and price ranges from 2000 rupees to 6500 rupees we managed to acquire a taxi to take us the 3 hour journey from Agonda to Arambol via Morjim beach to drop of our Norwegian friend Chade (pronounced Sade, like the singer). We settled on a 2300 rupee fee as the original 2000 rupee price was swiftly taken away after our phone call to confirm the booking, we agreed to the price hike as no one else had come close to that price, fingers crossed he'll actually turn up.

Eventually we found our accommodation in Arambol after taking a detour as a local sent us in the wrong direction. The hut that Allison had booked was not quite what we had expected. Very basic, the double bed looked just a little bit bigger than a single bed, it had seen better days, or maybe it had never seen a good day in its existence. Silence befell us both as we wandered round the site of our booked accommodation. Allison informed the manager of wanting a hut by the beach, these huts were a fair distance away and hopefully the ones by the beach were more airy and inviting. A 15 minute walk down the dusty road to some huts on the sand that were to the same high standard as its cousin way back up the dirt track. We could tell we weren't going to be happy spending a month in a hut like that. It was dark, dingy and not somewhere where you could relax in.
The race was on to find alternative accommodation, we had a couple of hours before it got dark, two huge bags of luggage and 3 smaller bags. We headed to Atman, a local haunt of Allison's when she was here a couple of years ago doing her yoga teacher training. It was there that she carried out her daily ritual of having her caffeine fix at breakfast time to keep her mind focused for the next yoga session. Allison remained with our bags as I hunted for a hut that we could stay in for a night or two, just till we could find more permanent lodgings. I found a hut not far from Atman, we put our large packs on our backs, small packs on our chest and headed towards the Zen huts. A diversion was taken to check out a room in a guesthouse but the price seemed to be grossly inflated. When they see tourists coming looking desperate and weighed down with heavy luggage, prices seem to sky rocket. Heads down we marched onwards mumbling about the inflated price. Our walk then took another sidewards step as a man told us he had a beach hut sat right on the beach for 700 rupees (7 pounds) a night. Like pack horses we trudged along the sand to be shown this rickety shack facing the beautiful ocean. Answer "no". We were now a fair distance from Zen huts and these donkeys had seen better days so we stopped off at the next section of huts on the beach that looked more inviting. They were painted bright colours and after looking inside looked relatively clean compared to the previous rooms we had looked at.

"We'll take it, but not for 1500 rupees, we'll pay 1000 a night for two nights" I said, "Okay, as long as you stay two nights", was his response. We dropped off our belongings, I pulled down the mosquito net and a cascade of dried mouse droppings fell onto the floor and bed! It was too dark to continue our search that night so we sat down in the beach restaurant where we could get a wifi connection whilst our room was cleaned. We looked for apartments and rooms online but came up with nothing. The next days plan was to search high and low till we came up with suitable accommodation for our month long stay.
We walked along the beach to Arambol town to get out of our lovely beach hut. The local shops sell things from clothes to dried herbs and spices. "Come in, take a look" the shopkeepers chant. Tiredness took hold of us and we led ourselves back to our hut overlooking the Arabian sea. My wind up rechargeable torch was used to help with deviating around the mess that was left on the beach from new years eve celebrations, the beautiful beach had sadly descended into a rubbish dump of glass bottles and plastic bags.
"Greetings" said the mouse and rat poo as we re-entered our hut. It was spread throughout the room. Even the sink and my pillow had droppings on, even a dropping on the toilet seat, it had missed the hole by a solitary centimetre. I think they must have had a poo party as soon as we went out. This was the first time I had used the rubber gloves I had bought from home, I cleaned up the mess with the toilet roll we luckily had on us. One night was enough in this shit hole, excuse the pun, but it was! Covering ourselves from head to toe with our sheet sleeping bags we laid down on the bed and hoped for sleep but funnily enough none was forthcoming.

Morning couldn't come soon enough, finally the sun rose, we left the hut with our things inside and our second hunt for accommodation in less that 24 hours began. The plan- Find suitable accommodation for the month, get back to the shitty hut and check out before midday, we had 3 hours and a suitable amount of determination to rise to this challenge. At 11am we found an apartment a bit further south along the coast in Mandrem that was clean, tidy and where we both felt we could spend the month comfortably without getting shat on in the middle of the night. All we had to do now was to check out of the shit hole and get our belongings back to Pushpa in Mandrem. The donkeys of yesterday were gone and the thoroughbred race horses were here. Loaded up and off we galloped along the sand, no need for a carrot to be dangled in front of our mouths! Bags put down, the final negotiated price agreed with the owner Sudhir, we could now just chill. The weight had been lifted from our shoulders and our month long stay here whilst Allison assists on a yoga course was taking a more positive shape.

The next day after returning to the apartment I was met by Sudhir and a Russian couple. He wanted to show them around the apartment? WTF. "What's going on" I enquired, "they are looking for a place to stay, when are you moving out, the 25th?" he replied. "No, the 1st of February!" I said. The couple then took their leave as me and Sudhir discussed the length of our stay. He must have got his wires crossed as we wanted him to pick up my step-daughter Jade and cousin Roni from the airport the morning of the 25th and probably thought we were leaving that day. Either that or he got a better offer from the Russians. Maybe he'll turf us out soon, who knows as we're in India and anything can happen.

Allison has begun her month long assistance on the yoga teacher training course. As for me I have plenty of time to sit and contemplate things. My plan is to wake up early and take Allison to yoga by 06:30, either join in the class and improve my flexibility or take a run along the sand listening to the relaxing sounds of the ocean.

I could run for miles and miles along this sandy beach, it won't break me! (I hope).

On our way back from a scooter ride to Kerri beach we saw this amazing Banyan tree, a pine tree and another tree were entwined in its strange root like branches.

An honest shopkeeper who sold us a bed sheet for £3. Allison got lost in the excitement of haggling and haggled the price down even lower to £2.50 but I felt sorry for him and his family and we agreed on the slightly higher price.

I post this on the 1st anniversary of my mother-in-law Mavis's passing, who knows she could be close by as if we believe in reincarnation like the Indians she could be here too. "I'll talk ta ya".