A Bangalorious Christmas!

Being in India is a lot like being a part of a dysfucntional family. You're in it so you just learn to love it and once you learn to love it, well, you just can't get enough of it! But that being said, there are at times (many times) that your only wish in the whole entire world would to be a part of a normal family. ahhhh, dysfunctional India.

Santa found me amoungst the millions of Hindus here in Bangalore and Christmas passed just like it would any other day with the exception of a new Calvin and Hobbes book and an Economist magazine. There were crowded streets and sales as apparently the provincial government of Karnataka deems the Christian holiday an excuse enough for a long weekend so the Christmas crowds were out just like they would be anywhere else - we couldn't even get into a movie!

Mom and I spent the morning at the train station pushing our way through to get a ticket to Mysore and then the afternoon at the local city market. The market turned out to be one of those little rewards India gives you just when you want to punch it in the face. With not another white person for miles we were treated like celebs while we wandered the busy asiles of light-up dancing Ganeshes, tikka powder, sweets and treats, flowers, veggies and fruit and of course, bangles. Everyone was so friendly and didn't try to sell us anything as nothing there was really of any use to us so they just wanted their picture taken and to talk. Hours passed in a flash and my camera was soon drained of power so we moved on to the main hussle of Bangalore, MG Road.

MG and Brigade Roads are kind of like the equivillent to Vancouver's Robson or Toronto's Young so there are a plenty of designer stores fancy lounges, restaurants, bars, and a fashionable and very non-traditional generation of young Indians with money from the booming hi-tech industry. A little different from Delhi. For a big city it was actually not too smelly or full of trash and for the most part there was very little staring with one exeption that got me thinking...

I was walking down a congested street, Mum was lagging a little behind and in front of me there was a group of, I would guess, 18 to 20 year olds, two guys and two girls. One of the guys while trying to keep up with his peers turned around about six times to stare directly at me. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. Stare. For seconds he held the stare before glancing to see where the hell he was walking. I caught up slowly (as he had slowed to stare as well)

"Do you have a problem with me?"
"No! No! I have no problem."
"Then why are you staring at me."
"I am not staring. I do not mean to stare."
"Well you ARE staring. Why do you stare?"
"I am staring at your freedom."

I was stunned. He left as I turned the corner to go the other way and I haven't been able to shake the expression. Staring at my freedom.

After a short train ride we've arrived in Mysore, which according to the Lonely Planet "has a way with travellers, who tend to stay a while and become enchanted by the city". Now, I don't take the Lonely Planet suggestions to heart but I expect them to be in the ballpark so after trudging around the hellish and noisy streets of Mysore looking for a place to stay, only to be turned down from about 5 hotels until we found one, my immpressions did not get off to a stellar start. The following day made no massive turn arounds with the execption of finding a good bank machine, super-awesome Ganesh stickers for my journal, and finding a way out of the totally overflowing and crammed with Indian tourists buying saris, silk and sandlewood oil city. Our attempt to go see the biggest attraction in town: The Palace, failed as they wouldn't let me inside with a camera and I didn't trust the suspicious "camera check" system. We walked around the goddy outside and concluded we were not missing much on the in as tourists are only allowed in a handful of the rooms. Palace, schmalace. The conclusion for Mysore is that it isn't even worthy of a picture on the blog.

Rocks and Temples

After being lulled into a deep, almost unconscious state of relaxation by the lapping waves of the Arabian Sea on Palolem and becoming a little pudgy from the delicious buttered chicken and banoffee pie I was kick started quickly when I had to pack my backpack for the first time in three long and wonderful weeks. The whole frenzy and thought of it made my head hurt. It is not to say I haven't done anything for the entire time, just not a lot that requires thinking.

Goa highlights of the past few days with the Mo included a big day out to the very old Portuguese churches of Old Goa (another World Heritage Site - check!) and then another trip up to Anjuna for the Wednesday flea market where of course, I bought more earrings and Mom wandered around wide-eyed and bushy tailed in amazement of all the "stuff" they sell there. We had a great time and were totally exhausted by the time we returned to our hut just in time for sunset. The following day we went to see the dolphins who were wonderfully cooperative and put on a great show for us jumping and flipping their tails and all the rest - very cute.

As I waved goodbye to the 'coconut-papaya-pineapple-watermelon' guys I almost shed a tear as we started off on an overnight bus to Hampi. Now, in India, you can ask for one thing, pay for another, and expect another but you really really really, never know what you're going to get. As an intro into the absurd Indian bus system I opted to take Mum on the AC chair overnighter, so I paid a little extra. Instead what I got was a chair with a crazy Indian woman already in it, a fight with the bus conductor over an "extra luggage charge", a cockroach infested bus (yes, they were crawling out of the cracked laminate walls), NO air conditioning, and close to one of the worst bus rides in history - although, not nearly as bad as getting to Kathmandu. We survived and arrived in Hampi sans any permanent damage. But eew.

Hampi, like the caves of Ajanta, was well worth the detour and we spent two peaceful days exploring the bolder strewn landscape and the hundreds of ancient temples. In the 15th century Hampi was one of the largest Hindu Empires but was ransacked by Deccan sultanates and has only fairly recently become inhabited by the local population again. It's small and quiet and has a very holy feeling. We hired the cutest rickshaw driver in the world, who played all the latest Bollywood hits from Don and Doom 2 to take us templing for the day. We saw many Vishnu's, Lingam's, Ganesh's and lots and lots of rocks - big ones, little ones, perched ones, cut ones, rocks stacked, rocks carved, rocks rocks rocks ... Aaron would have liked it. hehe. We ended our Hampi adventure with a climb up some boulders to a wonderful view of the sunset and a tiny little temple created out of the caverns of fallen boulders where a polio stricken holy man survives on temple donations. We shuffled under the big rocks into the dark but candle lit cave for a blessing and some Karma sugar balls. A moving way to conclude an amazing day.

Although it was a Saturday and all the Indian tourists were out with their millions of children and grandmothers and pubescent teenage boys I found I only got a fraction of the staring I usually would with Lifa, and to this I credit the protection of a Mother. It was great. The weird Indian men only hassled other solo white girls to be in their pictures. And because of the official warning issued by the Israeli government for all Israeli travellers to leave Goa and the surrounding areas due to terrorist attacks targeted at Israelis there was a surprising peacefulness about the whole place which is usually filled with them. (Or so I heard from many other travellers)

We are now on the move again and after another, but hopefully the last, overnight bus trip we are in the hi-tech capital of India for Christmas. It's festive and funny to see elephants with hats on but will do for a make-shift holiday away from friends and family. There are all the familiar big city attractions like McIndia, cinemas, Forts and unruly rickshaw drivers but there's also an array of nice restaurants and clean streets.

I know I'm missing the annual and very epic Hibbert boxing day party and I'm sad. So for those of you wondering what I'm up to while you're partying your faces off in the sweaty basement you can see for yourself. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wGhqOFJ-xE

Merry Christmas and Happy Boxing Day party! Peace and Love!

A Parental Interlude

I think it's safe to say that not every Mother would travel half a world away to see their daughter. I think it's also unlikely that they would come to India (of all places) but as most of us know: my Mom is an exception to many rules.

My Mother (Mo, the Mo, Mobert, Mom, Mum, or Eddie) is spending a little over 3 weeks with me in Southern India. After a grueling 3 days of tic-tac-toe travel she's made it to Palolem beach to relax for a few days then venture away from the beautiful sands and waters into "real" India all the way down to the Southern most tip in the Province/State of Kerala. At least, that is the plan.

With the arrival of the Mo came a fresh supply of Western wonders! Purdy's chocolate! Oreo cookies! Toblerone! Sour keys! Multi-vitamins! Hair elastics! Hand sani! Zip-lock bags! ... I had an early Christmas and please, don't ever expect yours to be as good. You'll only be disappointed. Of course with all the new provisions, Mum also brought the gentle and incessant nagging only a Mother can (brush your teeth, wear sunscreen, wash your hands etc etc.)... I'm only kidding, I think she's really cute. I will now teach her the ways of India, the Indians, and how to not get sick in this overwhelmingly filthy but wonderful country.

Jus has lost her Fa

Just thought I'd make you a litte more jealous with a few more photos.

Muuuwah ha ha ha ha ha.

ok, so it's sad but true. My Fa is gone and all that remains is Jus. We celebrated Lifa's last night in Goa and last night with her Jus with the Palolem Pub Crawl. Starting at around 5pm we hit up the Southern most restaurant/bar with only one goal in mind: have a drink at every place along the beach. The rules were as follows:

1. A drink must be had at every place going from South to North
2. Both Jus and Fa are allowed 2 bar Vito's each (that means we skip them altogether)
3. Both Jus and Fa are allowed one water break where you don't have to drink
4. GT's must be had by all

We were of the mark by 4am as we had made it to only 9 of the 50+ bars - getting a little distracted by two Brits who joined us and trying to explain to onlookers the rules behind the crawl. To say the least we barely made it half way down the beach but only because places close at 11pm with the exception of two... so really, we won. It was highly successful in both GT's and making us feel like utter shit in the morning. But we went the only way we know: BIG (and NOW Lifa's gone home).

Just Beachy

FYI: I'm still alive

We've been doing pretty much nothing for the past 10 days with occasional interludes of scooting to the weekly Anjuna flee market, boating trips, and venturing into town for Baskin Robbins ice cream. The Wednesday flee market (started way back in the day when hippies sold their jeans in hopes to make enough money for some nan) is every week in a beach town about 90k North from our little beach. We both rocked the scooty for the day and braved the Indian roadways to get there. After sweet-talking our way out of not one, but two sketchy police stops and getting totally covered head to toe to eyes to nose in diesel fumes we made it to the sprawling market where we bought some stuff, ate some samosas and marveled at all the white people!

The other major outing we've had was a little boat trip to see the dolphins and a itty bitty secluded beach just over yonder from ours but totally inaccessible by foot. It's home to some nice sand, crabs and monkeys and all night ravers every now and again.

That's about it. Laura leaves me on Friday only to be promptly replaced by my Mom who will hang out with me for the next 3 weeks. Peace outside!

Good Goa-ing

Don't be surprised if you never see me again.

I'm here on Palolem beach in Goa. Life is good. I may never come home.

We live in a little coco-hut right on the beach and spend the days eating, swimming, lounging, floating, hammocking, drinking beers and cocktails, playing frisbee, and watching dolphins. It's stressful.

We'll be here for the next 2 weeks... don't expect much blog action.