Ben likened our experience of the Gold Coast hostels to living in the Big Brother house – beautiful people wearing too little, drinking too much, splashing about in the pool and flirting. It did our head in a bit, so we have escaped to a gorgeous little town called Wingham. It looks like something out of a Western, with amazing wooden, Federation-era buildings. It boasts a great little museum, the best fish and chips that we’ve had in the last 7 months (and could put most British chippies to shame), a library stocking some of Isis’s finest titles (my old employers), a mini rainforest filled with thousands of fruit bats…and dark beer. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was chilled it could almost be fresh from the taps of the Black Horse. The people are wonderfully friendly, and everyone chats to us as they pass – I think the whole town must have known of our presence within an hour of us arriving on the train. Hurrah for Wingham and a taste of rural Australia.
Having spent seven months avoiding holes in the street, live electric wires, mad drivers, wild dogs and other such hazards which have no warning at all, Australia seemed to be a bit overkill on the warning signs. I tried to remember if the U.K. was as bad – maybe it is, but I’ve forgotten. These photos were all taken within a few minutes of each other at the metro station in Brisbane. The yellow rectangle by the blue door is particular favourite of ours. Do you really need to be told not to stand by a door because it might open? The door in question even has a large window in it so that the opener can see any obstructions (as per the “door opening training course” the employee would undoubtedly have been on), or indeed, the obstructor can see any approaching door traffic.
In an amusing moment of irony as I was photographing one particular sign I breached another and had the humiliation/honour of a personal reminder over the PA to stand behind the yellow line.
Our last few days in India were spent in Delhi. We paid a visit to the Gandi museum where we saw a replica of his room, one of the bullets that shot him and some amazing quotes by Gandi – and some less amazing ones by dear Mr Churchill. I was very excited to finally take my parents to a mosque and then very grumpy when they made us wear these ridiculously ugly polyester gowns, even though Mum and I were more covered than the locals.
This wonderful, little hill station at the foot of the Himalayas. It used to be the summer capital of the Brits when they were over here, and the place really has the feel of an English seaside town. It was wonderful being away from the hustle and bustle of the cities – no one hassled us to buy their goods, get in their rickshaw or look at their cousin’s shop. The only people getting hassled were parents with children as, all around the town, were men with pushchairs for hire. Things were so tranquil that we spent a chunk of Sunday morning watching the locals play cricket – they’re blummin’ good! On the final day, we walked up to the Monkey Temple and had to arm ourselves with sticks to defend ourselves against the monkeys who make their home there. Actually, we were lucky and weren’t pestered, but we did see a guy have his glasses stolen.
Varanasi lies on the banks of the Ganges, a famously holy place for Hindus. All along the banks lie ghats, steps down to the water, and all life can be seen there. People do their washing, have baths, have massages, sterilize their water bottles (!), and perform ceremonies. Ben saw one guy walking along the street with his legs chained together. The most amazing sight was the burning ghats where bodies are taken down to the water for a holy wash, then piled up on wood and cremated. Sandalwood powder and other spices are thrown onto the fire to create a pleasant aroma. No female members of the family are allowed on the ghat, and no tears can be shed there, otherwise the soul cannot go free.
After 6 months of travelling many things cease to seem strange. Having Em’s parents here has helped to remind us what is odd, unexpected or just “different”.
I’ve collected together a few photos which at the time only seemed mildly amusing, but in the grand scheme of things really are a bit bizarre. Well, OK, the cow inside the shop was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen, even after 6 months in the Middle East and Africa.
Here’s a brief description of each pic, not necessarily in the right order since Vox doesn’t always display them in the order that I select them.
1. To heat our water in Gulmarg (Kashmir) two bare wire are stuck in the barrel – so yes, all the water is live! (see video on previous post).
2. Taxi anyone?
3. Vehicle safety doesn’t feature on anyone’s agenda. You should see a really bald tyre!
4. These are the main power supply wires for our hosts’ house in Kashmir. They caught fire and fell apart. I had to twist them back together. Fortunately the power cut lasted 7 minutes longer than I needed.
5. This is a dual carriageway, but on both sides traffic is going the same way!
6. Camels are often used like horses for pulling carts. They are much more majestic though as they walk so slowly but still cove great distance.
7. In Malawi someone we knew had a sign stolen and made into a bucket.
8. “If it all stays on, then it isn’t too much”!
9. Four gas bottles on a push bike, he barely trying. 5 can be done with ease.
10. Funny signs like this are all over the place. Each one encouraging better driving, or etiquette. It’s a shame so many are spelt wrong… and that those who need to read them most, can’t as the most common language isn’t English.
11. Danger! 11,000 Volts… and the door doesn’t shut. Just say that again slowly, “Eleven thousand Volts and no locking door on the cabinet”.
12. Maybe the phrase, “Like a bull in a china shop” was coined after an experience in India. This really is a live, wild, urban cow inside a fabric shop. The customers carry on like it isn’t there.
13. If it stays on, then it isn’t overloaded. We saw a similar cycle rickshaw loaded with boxes. Each box was printed with “fragile” and “This way up” none of them were the correct way up!
A video I made back in Kashmir showing our luxury ski chalet. Or not. Sorry it's out of sequence.
A friend at home emailed us this link for a professionally made fim about morris dancing - in the style of Hot Fuzz. See the trailer at:
A few pics when I was in arty mood.
From left to right:
Sewing machines (obviously), dye for throwing at each other during holi fest, bangles, chillies, potatoes - no, wait - they're motorbikes, speed-of-light rickshaw, back of truck and a man on a horse (also an obvious one!).
So these are the advantages of taking your parents with you on holiday. Goodbye backpackers and youth hostels – welcome Rajastani Palace. Actually, it was the same price as the slightly grotty hotel that we stayed in in Agra, but a hundred times more beautiful. It certainly felt like you were in a luxurious, oldie worldie India!
We slowed down the pace a bit in Jaipur and told Prakash that we weren’t keen on marching round more old forts and buildings. Instead we had a leisurely (well, if you count negotiating the rickshaws, cows, dogs and lots of people as leisure…) walk into the old city and explored Hawa Mahal – the Palace of Winds. This amazing building was built to enable women to peep out on the street’s activities and watch passing festivals without being seen themselves.
