Pugsworth in Morocco

So we boarded the boat for Africa and waited for it to depart, and waited and waited and then were told that everyone had to get off because there was engine trouble and we would have to wait for the next ferry. So we waited a little longer, I did some temporary repairs on the bike we boarded the next boat and about half an hour latter we were in Africa. It's amazing to have such a short trip between the worlds richest and poorest continents, no wonder so many try to smuggle themselves across. As we wandered through the tourist town of Tangier to find a bus to Chefchaouen in the Rif mountains I had a real sense of being a complete foreigner. We changed money and didn't expect people to speak much english. (Surprisingly we found someone who spoke english in most places). I walked through the town in shorts and long sleeves and felt a bit sefl conscious about the local muslim dress code. It was also about 10 minutes before we saw a local woman on the street, which made Carla feel a little uneasy. Then we got on one of the local buses, which are probably not unlike most buses in developing nations, hot smelly and full of local people. At first I sat in my seat with a feeling of a cultural barrier, surrounding us and that this barrier provided a sense of security in an insecure environment. As the bus drove on though I began to take in deal with the situation. The other thing the bus was full of was culture, it's actually a great in-your-face culture experience, and like diving into cold water, you can adjust fairly quickly. About 45mins into the 3 hour trip I had a sudden feeling of being comfortable in the environment as though my energy had just clicked in zinc with the energy of the place. The gum trees definately helped and the mountain scenery was just stunning, another undulating trip I'm glad I took by bus and not by bike, though I did see someone else doing a cycle tour.

Our first stop was the city of Chefchaouen in the Rif mountains. We got off the bus and by the time I'd collected my bike off the top of the bus the others had an offer from a local man named to take us to a hotel. We'd be zqrned of the persistent guides in Morroco but Abdul said he wasn't a guide and we new nothing of the city so accepted. He spoke quite good english and was very friendly. After checking in at the hotel he asked if we'd like to know a good place to eat and to join him a his house for a smoke of the local hash-hish afterwards. Now I'm not really a smoker but I'd also heard about Morrocan hospitality so it seemed like a good offer as well. Then the talk turned to how much we would like to buy. abdul assured us that while the police might take an interest in 4kg, 1kg was assumed to be for personal use! At this point we tried to back out of the smoking invitation so were taken to a carpet factory instead. Again I'd read about this in tourists guides and was very wary but the others were interested so we went. Actually the hard sell wasn't as bad as I expected, their ability to to be the very friendly yet hard salesman is quite phenonmenal.

Morrocan and I believe Arabic social interaction is quite

Although there was no way out of there without buying at least something, the smallest thing I could find was a small piece of musk but the following day I discovered I paid way to much for, all part of the learning expeerience. After this we were a bit more hesititant about what we were gettng ourselves into, and we'd seen quite a bit for one day already. Abdul and his friend Hussein took some offence at us not joining them for a smoke but we had begun to see this was their business, they were not guides but drug dealers. They made friends in order to make a sale, so for them they had invested a few hours showing us around and not to make a sale was for them lost investment. We escaped into our hotel where they could not follow despite the kickback they probably received for taking us there. There we met some German lads who'd been a couple of times before and gave us a few pointers about how things worked in Morroco over some late night drinks.

Next morning we woke to discover Hussein waiting for us at the door of our hotel. Some of the others had tried telling him we didn't want anything and to leave us alone but it appeared some compensation was in order for last nights lost investment. The Germans advised that 20 Dirham (A$3) was appropriate so realising that this too was a bargaining situation I opened at 10. Hussein on the other hand opened at 100. Of course before figures were even mentioned, there was a lot of talk about what they'd lost and how it would be simpler if we just bought something and me explaining that we didn't realise what we'd been getting ourselves into. Gradually I moved towards 20. In between each new offer we covered the same ground and had stand offs, with both of us refusing to budge. Then Hussein became angry and began to threaten us saying they could make trouble for us. This was clearly possible but also appeared to be an intimidation technique. Ultimately Hussein refused to take the 20 I offerred him and I refused to go higher, having been told it should be plenty, so I withdrew into the hotel. By this time we felt underseige in the hotel. The hotel owners assured us the threats were just intimidation and not to worry. We couldn't be sure but we're not going to be frightened into staying inside all day, so went down to go for a walk, saying we'd made an offer and it had been rejected. Hussein followed us along the street harrassing us just with his pressence and asking to be compensated. Eventually Patrick offerred him 50Dh which he took along with my 20 and then left us with directions to the centre of the medina (we were already lost) and a warning that if we bought of anyone else they would know and it would be trouble. That was the last we saw of Hussein but we saw Abdul that night (fearing he'd come for his share). He was quite friendly and exchanged apologies for the trouble, good cop bad cop I guess.

Anyway way after leaving Hussien we heading for the main plaza for some breakfast. On the way Max saw some architecture he wanted to sketch, so we left him for a brief wander. This was a big mistake. After looping back a couple of times we realised we were completely lost in the maze of streets that made up the medina. They all looked the same, white stone walls painted blue to about waist height. (We heard several different plausible explanations for this feature which was unique to Chefchaouen including that it made you feel cooler because blue is a cool colour and that it kept the flies away cause they thought the streets were rivers.) After about an hour of wandering around, getting more and more worried about what Max might be thinking we finally found him. He'd been enjoying himself though showing a couple of the more curious local kids the techniques of drawing. We were all hungry though and so hurried for a late breakfast.

After breakfast we found ourselves with time on our hands for the first time in Morocco. We'd been in the country nearly 24 hours and this was our first chance to the take the initiative in exploring it. We found an internet cafe and wandered around the medina taking it in at a liesurely pace, then we wandered a bit further into the wider city and were keen to climb into the snow capped mountains above the city but weren't sure if this was at all possible. We climbed up to a look out point and enjoyed the view but weren't any wiser about going beyond or higher. We found we could continue into a caravan park and a forest on the lower hillside. At this point I had some sort of spiritual moment as I felt the surrounding pressence of the trees. I had a sudden awareness of drawing energy from just being in the forest amoungst the trees, it was very rejuvenating. As I thought about it I realised that it had been quite a long time since I had been in a proper forest. I'd spent a lot of time in cities and also natural environments but most of those had not many trees. It seems there is some form of (spiritual?) energy that I draw from trees and particularly forests and that I was particularly lacking in this at that time. The others didn't feel anything so I don't know but it was pretty real for me.

We stopped for a rest and for me to soak up the atmosphere and then had to decide whether to on or back. It didn't look like it went anywhere but Max and I convinced the others to keep going. As it turned out we found a path around the hillside and into a magnificant hidden valley just above the city. The path ran along side or on top of a large pipe which collected water from high in the mountains for the city. Below the pipe was a steep slope and if you fell you would fall/roll quite a way in some parts. We weren't sure whether we could follow this right around the valley which we were keen to explore and matters were complicated when Carla told us she suffered from vertigo and wasn't sure she could make it even if we could. Luckily at that point we met a local of about our age by the name of Mustafa. He spoke good English and told us that he came this way regularly and that it was easy enough to follow the pipe all the way up the valley, at least, it is for those who don't suffer vertigo. Karla wanted to come and didn't want to split the group and force the rest of us to go back, on the other hand she was clearly pushing her own boundaries. She decided to give it a go though and I have never seen anyone overcome their fears quite like it. Her fear was obvious, she was physically shaking and her reactions were nervous and frantic. Her fears were not completely unjustified, what we were doing had an element of danger and required some caution and a good sense of balance. Carla is aparently a regular rock climber and practitioner of the martial art Aikedo so was probably at least as capable if not more so than the rest of us so her extreme fear was out of proportion. She obviously was used to confronting it though as knew if she just took it slowly she could do it. We did as much as possible to accomodate her of course but she said being too close to us made it worse so we had to keep our distance and wait while she fought her own battle. We made it to the top to find a little waterfall and a small pond and headed down the other side which was flatter and no trouble for Carla. I was very impressed at the way she handled herself, I've never seen such a powerful demonstration of mind over matter.

As well as the beautiful valley the other surprise bonus of the afternoon was Mustafa. He too was just out for a walk as he often did (funny for some reason I'd always thought that going for a walk was just a western concept). He was going the same way as us and so he joined us and we chatted as we went. At first we were a bit worried that this was going to become yet another guided tour with a surprise fee at the end but these fears were unfounded and we had our first meeting with a Moroccan that didn't have a financial component. That this was possible for travellers was reassuring in itself and of course it was fascinating to get local knowledge from him and talk about life with an 'everyday Moroccan' who wasn't part of the tourist industry.


Hammam
shave

Fes
pastilla
hotel terrace breakfast
general impressions and contrast old and new

Marrakesh
busiest square
vibrant and lively but no old and new contrast

high atlas
As we also managed to discover without paying much money, it has some great scenery. We took a local bus to the atlas moutains and had a night in a local hotel while we decided what to do the following day. We turned doznt he hoteliers offer of a guide and a mule (donkey) to carry our stuff and set off on our own for a two day trek. We climbed up a pretty river valley and some rocky scree slopes. Walked through some large patches of snow on the top and got sunburnt sliding down the other side. we stayed with some locals in a small mountain village, slept on the floor, squatted over the hole in the ground toilet and watched live euopean football on their satilite TV! Morrocans love TV, a home owners no. 1 status symbol. The enxt day we completed the loop qnd got invited by a local woman for lunch, payment a couple of t-shirts, picked up our baggage and caught a taxi back to Marakesh. So yeah, we found our way without too much trouble.

Essouera
bus talk with muslim about religion
art town, indigenous
chill out and shave, ahmed

Casablanca
hasan II mosque

Fes
unofficial palaces, better but more expensive
free bike storage

ride to meknes

maknes tangier tarifa in one day

final reflection

Ups and downs in Amritsar

Next stop was Amritsar to see the Golden Temple and the site of the famous massacre. The Golden Temple was okay I guess. I was a bit over temples by now even though this one is one of the more spectacular. More interesting was the Sikh museum attached which really enhanced my understanding of Sikh history and some elements of its culture. I've always found Sikhs to be friendly, helpful and quite well educated (and well dressed). I can't see anything in their religion that encourages these values more than other religions (though I don't claim to have looked that deeply into Sikhism) so I put it down to a cultural factor. Whatever it is, I have quite a positive feeling towards Sikhs.

The park where the Amritsar Massacre Occurred is now a tourist attraction in it's own right. As such it's had concrete plastered all over the place destroying its atmosphere and there was more work continuing which made the crowds there worse. So I don't recommend it.

The surprise packet at Amritsar was a visit to see the border closing ceremony at the Pakistan border. Dad and I had witnessed a similar ceremony at the Bangladeshi border in Tripura, but that was quite a small crossing and quite a small ceremony when compared with the border near Amritsar. There must have 500 people seated in three pavilions on the Indian side (mostly Indian tourists I think) and probably 200 on the Pakistani side (though I couldn't see over/through the gate so well. The atmosphere was like that of a sports event with both sides cheering on their team. Like in Tripura the two sets of army guards synchronised their rituals so that it all occurred simultaneously. They also had an amplification system used by both officers and civilians to hype up the crowd. To pass the time waiting for sunset some of the women were allowed down onto the thoroughfare to dance to the loud Bollywood music while men clapped along and cheered from their separate pavilion. Then the real show began. The soldiers marched around, the guy with microphone shouted nationalistic slogans for about 20 minutes, the crowd enthusiastically joining in the responses. The Sargent demonstrated how long he could a note/yell while his Pakistani counterpart did the same - though we couldn't hear enough from the other side to tell who could hold it longer. Then finally they ceremoniously lowered the flags.

Again it wasn't the main event that most fascinating to me but the way the crowd engaged in it. First there was the pushing in the queue to get in. The young lads were obviously expecting a good time and were in the mood. For the security check the crowd wandering toward the pavilion was required to form a single line. So first the crowd forms a tight huddle which gradually thins into a line, though not before the lads had their fun by pushing the whole group as much as possible - and getting slapped around the head by the guard for their efforts. My biggest fear at this point was pickpockets but had the pushing got much worse I would have considered withdrawing from the queue/huddle.

Then there were the crowd dynamics in the pavilion. I don't think I ever sat in the middle of such rampant nationalism, though I suspect the crowd is simply interested in whatever fervour it can find so is happy to take the nationalistic kind on offer. The social contract was then put to the serious test as at various points of peak action (or mostly peak hype) the front rows would stand up. This would create a wave as each row's view was blocked by those standing in front and would stand in turn. Then as the peak declined those at the back would begin calling for people to sit down and the wave would regress. However it usually got stuck towards the front as those soaking up the energy seemed to have no incentive to sit down, especially as this meant temporarily denying ones own view while waiting for the more stubborn people in front of you to sit down. Where they refused to sit down the wave would begin to revert slowly back up the stand and back and forth it would go. What made it more difficult is that one's view was blocked by the people standing 2-3 rows in front/below you. This meant even if the people immediately in front of you sat down you still couldn't see but neither could you really do anything to advance the sit-down wave as it was now out of reach. I'm not sure if this is making sense but the whole situation was essentially a case of individuals making and breaking a group consensus or social contract. If people at the front didn't sit down then everyone was forced to stand (or not see anything). To make sitting down worthwhile, required the agreement of everyone in front of you without exception. Anyway, not sure what I learnt exactly but it was fascinating to watch such a simple form of these sort of group dynamics in action. And one couldn't help getting caught up in the celebratory atmosphere - despite the nationalism involved.

Different Delhi and Camping Kashmir

So there I was in Delhi, another one of those cities with a population equal to that of all of Australia. Luckily I had a semi-local in Cara to show me around and navigate something close to a fair fare with the rickshaw drivers. Though even Cara (who has spent several months here over the years) was a bit disoriented because Delhi is undergoing dramatic changes in preparation for next years Commonwealth Games to be held here. In particular the construction of the underground metro system has changed many travel routes, both in terms of roads currently available and in terms of altered traffic flow on various routes as a result of the parts of the metro already in use.

Delhi doesn't really strike me as much of a tourist destination, except as a transport hub. It has it's own fort, but this has nothing on the one in Agra and it has temples and other sights but nothing really unique. The unique experience for me though was staying in outer suburban Delhi with Cara who was house sitting for a friend. This gave me a chance to experience something of everyday life for the everyday people - and of course escape the touts and guides! Better yet it was a chance to just stop and hang out with Cara after the packed in schedule I'd had with dad.

What Delhi is famous for is Delhi Belly (food poisoning) but of course I'd had that in Kolkata and again in Darjeeling so it was time for something different. It started as what seemed to be a case of sunstroke and dehydration from wandering too long in the sun with out water. At first this just added to my lack of motivation for doing much and I was happy just to rest and read some of the cheap books I bought. But after a couple days my recovery felt stalled and Cara returned from a religious retreat and diagnosed it as some sort of virus - always good to have a nurse around! Presciption: more rest - oh well! So in the end I had nearly two weeks in Delhi and stayed in several different parts but I can't say I did much exciting.

So for some excitement - how about Kashmir? it came with both high recommendations and serious warnings. The recommendations featured relaxed stays on houseboats and mountain hiking while the warnings are about the old conflict over the territory between India, Pakistan and the locals. The conflict hasn't flared for a while though so it seemed relatively safe. While I was there I saw nothing untoward, though the army was out in full force for the Prime Minister's visit on my last days there, so obviously there is some level of risk. My stay was much more along the line of relaxing houseboats and mountains. I'd met a guy in Delhi who helped me one night when I was particularly unwell and so supported his family's business buy staying on their boat and taking their hiking tour. Happily there was a young Japanese guy doing the same thing, so we shared some time together. The houseboat and family were nice enough but nothing special. It's probably better closer to summer as by late October it's getting pretty cold up there. I was glad to actually need all the warm clothes I was carrying though - and more!

The mountains were really the highlight, particularly with beautiful autumn colours. The first snow and fallen a week before and still remained on the higher peaks but thankfully none fell while we were there. The climbing was very steep and I was surprised to find that I needed to ride the horse brought along for that purpose. I think this was partly because having climbed close to 5000m the air was thinner than I'm used to, plus we were trying to squeeze a lot into our main day there. Anyway we made it heights I never reached before and back down along near sand-dune-like dusty track (they obviously get very little actual rain to was away the dust) before dark. The second day we tracked more along than up and saw some magnificently steep gullies - there's nothing quite like really rugged country to me. Then it was back to town because we were being charged more than $100 a day. Our guide was able to quote quite a few expenses, none of which seemed unreasonable on their own but it did all add up to more than I thought it should of.

The other new part of this experience was being taken camping/hiking. I've done plenty of this before but always by my own arrangement - or shared with companions. The notion of going camping but having someone else do all the camp set up, cooking and route planning actually removed half the fun of making sure you have everything you need to survive in the bush for however long you want. It also meant there were times of sitting around waiting (eg for dinner) which would be fine in the warm, but in the cold I'd much rather have something to take my mind of the cold and keep me moving a bit. Not that we suffered or anything, just a reflection on the mental experience. All in all a well worthwhile experience, though I've no need to go back.

Lecturing tourists

Our next two stops were part of dad's lecture circuit so I saw him give two different lectures on Genesis 19 (his PhD topic) in two days. In Nagpur we stayed at the Mar Thoma (Church of St Thomas) Orthodox Seminary. Here we found a fairly progressive group of lecturers and students in the midst of preparing for a 5 yearly gathering. However they received us warmly and asked some interesting questions in the lecture. In Jabalpur Dad presented to a quieter group of students from a more ecumenical although predominantly wesleyan background. Their version of welcoming was not to ask any questions at all so I took it on myself to ask one to some surprise from the others.

In Jabalpur we were also stayed with the Vegad family. Now grandfather Jawahar Vegad had often visited my grandparents during his studies in NZ in the late 1960s. My father and Jawahar had not seen each other for more than 40 years but had re-established contact in recent years thanks to the internet. Jawahar, his two brothers and their children and grandchildren (21 in all) share their family home. This is traditional but now very unusual in modern India, especially amoungst the upper-middle classes where the Vegads find themselves. It made for a fascinating expereince for us though to experience life amoungst the wider family.

After the lectures it was back to the tourist trail with visits to Varinasi and Agra. Personally I can't say I found Varinasi all that interesting. Life on the great Ganges River is much what I had come to expect of India at this stage. Still it was something to see the dead bodies burning on the funeral pyres while a few metres away a couple of men sifted through the ash for the jewelery traditionally burnt with the bodies. Other than that Varanasi is just another city - and with worse traffic than most.

We took another overnight train to Agra. I'd done several of these now but as we discovered the hard way this particular route is notorious for theft. Dad had his bumbag taken from beside his head, losing cash, credit cards, camera, phone and reading glasses. Luckily the only thing he really needed, his passport, was in his pocket. Meanwhile the thief went through my wallet, but only took the cash, leaving the credit cards. This meant that we still had access to cash and given dad only had one day before returning home he didn't bother replacing stuff until he got there. Others on the train were hit too, losing credit cards as well, so I can't explain my luck! Part 2 of this expereince was trying to get a police report so that dad could claim on his insurance. After writing the same thing out three times (with different report headings) and waiting around for an hour dad got angry at the time taken and said "I came to see India!" to which the Sargent responded "This is India too". So it does provide some perspective - on the bureaucracy! Even then we had to leave and come back later to get our copy of the report.

Agra I did enjoy, perhaps because we only had a day there. The Taj is the thing of course, but there is so much expectation about it I can't imagine it lives up to it for many. My expectations weren't particularly high, but it struck my as just another palace, albeit with its distinctive style. The Agra Fort though, now there is an impressive building. It has colour, size, a certain maze like quality and some interesting design elements (and I don't just mean it's ornate). This I had not expected so I left feeling pleasantly surprised. Dad even talked me into climbing a fence so that I could sneak up onto the battlements. Given the place is still an active military installation this gave one a bit of a thrill, not to mention the view, but noone was really looking.

Final stop with Dad was Dehli. We we're pleased to be met by Cara and three of us had time for a market walk and a meal before it was time for dad to head for the airport and home. It had been great travelling with dad, seeing him do his thing in various places and sharing time and experiences together as traveled across India. We don't often get the opportunity to share expereinces like this with family in a one-on-one way so I'm really glad I did.

The North East

From Kolkata I flew to Agartala to meet my father Paul. On the way to the airport I experienced the ‘best’ driving move I’ve seen yet. The taxi driver approaching a clogged intersection found half a lane that I didn’t think he would fit into (and I’ve squeezed some cars through some tight spots). He went straight through the gap on the right hand side without slowing down and then pulled a left turn across four lanes of traffic that was just taking off as the lights changed and zipped across in the nip of time. Then he looked at me in the mirror with a grin to say ‘nice move eh?’, I could only smile back, impressed with his guts and sense of space of time. Thankfully the airline pilots are not prone to these sort of moves and the flight was uneventful.

This time I was greeted by a familiar face. My father Paul was just coming to the end of a four week teaching stint at a Baptist mission in Tripura where my maternal grandmother Hazel had been a nurse in the 1950s and 60s. My presence made three generations of our family there, though my contribution only extended as far as a two hour English lesson in the home school conversation class run by one of the local parishioners. I also sat in on a couple of dad’s lectures which gave me a sense of his work teaching local pastors new ways of interpreting old testament scriptures and how to preach them to the village folk. Other than that we had a couple of relaxed days. We visited what had been the hospital where my grandmother worked – now an army barracks and went to the border with Bangladesh to watch the ceremonial border closing at days end. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a closed border!

After dad finished his teaching duties we headed north to Darjeeling, famous colonial summer holiday spot in the lower reaches of the Himalayas. My grandmother had been here too for her holidays and probably went to the same viewing point to watch the sunrise. We were lucky enough to have a clear morning enabling us to see Mt Everest on the far horizon and of course the much closer Kangchendzonga (India’s highest and world’s third highest peak). To escape the crowds and traffic we decided to head back on foot and had a bit of an adventure in the process. There were two things I’d heard about Darjeeling, the mountains and toy train, yet both were still surprises. Apart from their beauty the mountains were amazingly steep, rising 3000 metres from the plain within less than 50km. In several places there were houses or hotels built with the top floor having access to the street and the bottom floor resting on the ground 4 or 5 stories below! Yet the area is incredibly populated, not in the village style you might imagine but simply by lining every possible piece of mountain road with a house or shop or something. The toy train also follows the main road route – there’s no where else for it to go. However it travels in 10 hours what a car can do in 3, so given you don’t see anything different we decided to skip that particular icon.

The second day I arranged a guide to take me on a day hike. Dad had a bad knee from the previous day’s walking so I paid about $12 for a day of one on one with the guide. We took a back road to the viewing point and then I convinced him to take me further into the hills and forest. He was up for it though he’d not been that way for some time and was a bit unfamiliar with the trail. At one point he thought we had come the wrong way. This just added to the sense of adventure as we walked through bamboo forest thick and tall enough that you can not see out to get your bearings. There are no trees to climb for a lookout and it’s too thick to bush bash so you can only go on (back? – never!). Later we came to a more tree dominated forest which reminded me very much of New Zealand bush. Steep rugged gullies and very wet. But we couldn’t have been in New Zealand because there were monkey’s in the tree tops. Nice to see them in their natural habitat instead scavenging along the road side. In the end we came out where he was expecting and walked back along the road through the local villages. We stopped for a while to watch a local football (soccer) game. The only ground in the area was originally a natural hollow on top of a ridge which has been dug out to a flat soccer ground big enough to play 7-a-side on. So it’s on top of the hill but with high grassy walls/banks on three sides making a natural stadium type setting – and preventing the ball from running all the way down the hill too often. So a nice glimpse of local community and entertainment in a Himalayan village.

Next we return to the hot plains of India but I’m certainly looking forward to more mountains when I visit Nepal in a couple of weeks time.

Activists and Party-goers

After the unexpected spiritual and activist journey of Bodhgaya I headed for Bhubeneswar, the capital of India’s other ‘poorest state’ Orissa. There I was to meet a Ghandian activist named Akshaya who dad had meet a couple of weeks earlier at an interfaith conference in Kolkata. It was nice to be met off the train and not have to find my way to anywhere. Indeed his community house was well off the beaten track beyond even the knowledge of the taxi driver who had to be directed. Unfortunately dad’s timetable and the train timetable combined against me and I only had one day to spend there, however it was a fascinating insight into a local activist community. There were about half a dozen men there that day out of about a dozen in total. They have two main projects at the moment working with local communities. One is around a major mining development proposed for the area. They are trying to make sure that local people are engaged in the project in terms of planning, employment and receiving revenue. The situation sounds similar to that of Indigenous communities in north-western Australia with mines etc being developed up there, so we were able to swap perspectives on this. The other more ongoing project is peace building work between local Hindu and Muslim communities. On both these projects the group use theatre as a means of breaking down barriers and communicating with the people. On top of all that Akshaya is also interested in alternative economic systems and has written an extensive paper on what he calls utilisation economics. So those of you who know me will understand that we had plenty to talk about. Our values are aligned in many ways but we had plenty of experiences to swap and perspectives to share, so it was a very fruitful day. I was encouraged to discover a healthy and mature activist network in India and interested to find that we share many issues in common despite our supposed economic differences.

Side note here is that climate change is well and truly on the agenda in India. From reading local newspapers it appears that the message about reducing our carbon footprint is as old and familiar as it is in Australia. I’ve also met a reasonable smattering of locals who’ve mentioned the issue or demonstrated their practical steps. A recent newspaper article even trumpeted India as playing an important brokering role in international negotiations as a willing partner but still looking out for the interests of developing nations. Of course the Indians understanding of energy conservation is also informed by the regular blackouts in most parts of the country, so they are much more used to doing without, or with less than we are.

Enough seriousness, time for the party. My next stop was to return to Kolkata, home of the puja festival that was now hotting up. The festival celebrates that slaying of demons by one of the Hindu gods. The main ritual involves the creation of life size (and bigger) clay figures, elaborately decorated, depicting the ancient slaughter. These are placed in ornate temporary temples – it’s amazing what fine artwork they can make out of bamboo! – where for several days they are the focus of celebrations (I wouldn’t really use the worship). Then over the course of a few evenings they are festively disposed of in the river where they rapidly sink and eventually dissolve. I was back in Kolkata a few nights before the peak of the festival but there must have been 1000 trucks lined up at the ghat (ceremonial riverside place) each with a set of clay figures to place in the river. Each truck also had 20-50 people crammed in the back and many had another 20-50 following along on foot from behind. Each truck represented one village or community and each group took their turn to wade their statues into the river and release it. The whole atmosphere is a carnival with stalls lining the streets like you might find at Moomba or the Melbourne show and the people are in a very joyous and jovial mood. Surprisingly I didn’t see any other foreigners checking out the spectacle but it felt like every Indian saw the one foreigner there. Any inhibitions that they had were lost in the joviality and anyone who came near wanted to shake my hand and wish me a happy puja. I felt like a minor celebrity waving to each truck as it passed and was imagining the mobbing that Adam Gilchrist would get if he happened to turn up. Eventually a particularly precocious lad of about 12 insisted that join him and his brothers as they followed their float along its final journey and released it into the river. Wading into the filthy water was not for me but it was nice to have a sense of being invited to join in the celebrations rather than just observing them.

Lessons on wealth in Bodhgaya

With a few extra days in Kolkata before it was time to meet dad, I decided to make a little circular tour to Bodhgaya and Bhubaneswar before returning for a final night in Kolkata to see the puja festival.

Bodhgaya is the place where after many many years meditation Siddhartha Guatama achieved enlightenment sitting under the Bhodi tree and became Buddha. I arrived off the overnight train at 5am so by the time I'd found and taken a shared autorickshaw for the halfhour journey to town it was broad daylight but still coolish. There were a few people around on the main promenade outside the Mahabodhi Temple but it wasn't busy yet and for the first time ever the street vendors 'shop music' was actually a real addition to the atmosphere! The were playing some sort of Buddhist medition in a very deep voice with a very slow style (which of course they were tyring to sell on CD). It gave the affect of a very peaceful meditative place which is exactly the main attraction of Bodhgaya.

I didn't get far before a young boy, Soni, asked me where I was going and then accompanied me in the opposite direction to the hostel I was seeking. On the way I met his teacher Rajesh and when I was unsatisfied with the hotel they both took me to the Tibetan Monastry where I found a basic but airy room for a good price (though the Monks where not very engaging). I then found myself in the unusual position of being ready to explore my surrounds at 6:30am! Rajesh and Soni took me through the Mahabhodi temple and grounds, which are free to enter and a wonderful place to wander barefoot without my blistering sandals. The grounds are quiet, large and green with further plans for expansion. This was a stark but pleasing contrast to the noise, busyness and filth of Kolkata.

Having seen the main local sight in my first two hours I then had two whole days to spend relaxing in this small sanctury of a town. For a moment I thought I might be bored but Rajesh and his friends showed me an amazing time. On the first day he took me on his motorbike to the cave where Siddhartha had meditated for six years before coming to Bodhgaya. More importantly he took me to the school where he volunteers as a teacher. There I met it's founder and director Laxman who like Rajesh is still in his early to mid 20s. You see Bodhgaya despite it's status as worldwide Buddhist pilgramage site and many well resourced temples and monastries is still part of one of India's porest states - Bihar. Rajesh who's father died when he was young was lucky to find a sponsor in the form an american pilgram who paid for his education. He now studies Japanese part time and considers it his duty to help education others who are less fortunate. I know less of Laxman's story but he was obviously concerned enough about the lack of a school in the district to establish one and tour local villages encouraging parents to send their children for free. After a few years they have three basic classrooms and a boarding house for several local orphans. Amazing to see what enterprising local young people can do for the local community! It puts my own efforts in an appropriately humbling light. Then of course they need more resources - how can I help? Their current project is to obtain a computer for the school. They need US$500 and someone else already contributed 200. I decided after knowing them only a few hours to contribute another $100. This doesn't seem much now (though it sounds more when you say it as 4000 Rupees) and part of me would have given more. But a part of me was very hesitant and concerned about giving money to people I'd just met. I was not prepared for the rude shock of realising how wealthy we are and therefore our obligation to help even though this might mean freely giving to near strangers.

The lesson was reinforeced the next day when Rajesh's friend Motu took me to his village for breakfast and school me the sewing school some Belgians had set up for the local women. Women here are not allowed to work in the town by themselves but sewing is something they can do independantly from home - if they have the skills. Motu would like to purchase a third sewing maching (4000 Rupees) so that the dozen or more women can each have more practice time. Later he took me to a village of the untouchables (who of course look no different to any other poor Indian - I always had images of lepers or something). The village has no tap and they constantly have to walk 3km to get water. The cost for installing a tap is 9000 Rupees or about $250 (or possibly 15000 if the digging requires a machine). After wrestling all day with my conservative instincts and stingy nature I eventually decided to provide the money for the tap. Thank you to all those who told me that coming to India was about letting go!

I should also say that I had a great two days just hanging out with Rajesh, Motu and friends and touring around learning about each other. Requests for money were not the dominant part of our exchange, just the most signficant learning for me. There wasn't really any pressure being put by them, the situations spoke for themselves! None of them are soliciting for themselves, but on behalf of others who couldn't even ask. They are community activists and these money requests are part of life for them. So while they said thanks, none were ecstatic at my gifts - so I must learn to give not for the sake of thanks but for the sake of giving. Yet a strong bond was formed in our time together. For them I was more than just another tourist, but a friend and we have spoken a few times by phone in the days since.

Finally I must point out that if anyone is feeling geneous, there are still needs of A$100 for a sewing machine and US$200 for a computer for the children. I remain in contact and can facilitate any transfers or provide more information.

Kolkata

So here I am in the city of Mother Teresa and after three days I think I am getting used to it. It's taken a bit of time to settle into the way of things and there's still plenty to work out.

The practicalities are one thing and once you understand the system it's not difficult to use. The biggest psychological adjustments are to the traffic and the lack of privacy. Kolkata is 5.0 million people (or 7.8 million, wikipedia seems to have two different figures) cramed into 185 square kilometres. The Melbourne I'm used to is 3.8 million people spread across 8800 square kilometres. In density terms Kolkata has 27,000 per square km compared to Melbourne's 1,500 - so no wonder I'm noticing the crowds! Depsite that, it appears that Melbourne has about 4 times the number of sky scrapers, which I guess says something about the comparative wealth of the two cities. In every day terms this doesn't necessarily mean it's a permanent squash of bodies. This is still the exception rather than the rule but just imagine that the small roads are like queen vic market on a busy morning with motor bikes riding through the crowd. It's difficult to find a place to sit down anywhere in public because all the vaguely clean places are already taken. The thing about the traffic is not really that it's unruly or crazy. I actually prefer it's style which essentially a form of anarchy that favours maximum efficiency over safety and pleasantness. The thing that gets me is the constant blowing of horns from bikes and cars trying to maximise that efficiency by pushing people out of the way with their really loud horns. Thank God for quiet hotel rooms - the only real privacy I've found. I guess the large Midain (similar in size and location to melb's alexandra gardens would be a great place to hang out most times of the year. But during the current monsoon season they're mostly a bog growing plenty of lush grass and their aren't enough horses to keep it under control. I guess that when it does dry out enough to sit on/in it will also become crowded but one can only hope.

So apart from sorting out the practicalities I've been getting a few essential Indian experiences under my belt. Day 1 involved throwing up food I'd eaten at a street stall - so I'm sticking to restaurants for the moment. Day 2 involved getting completely drenched in the monsoon rain. I think that rain would have to top even what I experienced in Papua New Guinea as a kid. The drops are just so big and so closely bunched together it's surprising the resulting flood was only ankle to knee deep. Getting soaked was actually rather fun and a I swapped a few grins with other drenched foreigners caught in the same predicament. It's still 30 degrees of course and being wet is fine, it's getting cold that's the problem - but not here. The locals though, are over it or perhaps they just foresaw the coming flood so they don't tend to mess about or just find shelter and wait it out. So with a lot of things closing down my adventure became how to get back to my hotel through the flood. I wasn't keen on wading through it over the uneven roads, even if my shoes were already soaked through. I managed to get most of the way via a few detours before getting stuck provided the perfect excuse to hire a rickshaw runner to take me through the final flooded stretch. Aparently Kolkata is the last bastion of the rickshaw pulled by foot, and they are not expected to last becuase they slow down the traffic to much. They will be a loss for those who use them for carrying large loads but there are cycle rickshaws (now becoming more numerous in London) and auto-rickshaws to take their place. So that pretty much ate day 2, along with an evening walk to find the flood had mostly subsided. Chalk it all up to experience, oh and I've now purchased an umbrella and a pair of sandals :-)

No rain since though, so I'm not sure what's happened to the idea of day after day monsoon rain. I understand it's a bit of a problem actually, with a lack of water meaning less hydro power and more power failures. However I don't think they can claim this for the day 3 city wide power failure. This resulted in some places shutting for the day and others just adding to the general noise and smell by starting up their generators. Interesting side note here is that there is certainly some consciousness about conservation of energy use, not anymore than Australia but it's at least a recognised issue. From the Australian press you'd think India (and China) were just recalcitrantly burning fossil fuel. However various billboards indicate that the government here has tried to educate the public and seek behavior change and I guess the simple fact that energy is unreliable here contributes to an attitude among at least some people that energy shouldn't just be blindly wasted.

The other essential experience is getting ripped off on various purchases. However while the discrepencies are in the order of 100% the actual amounts are so small I don't really mind. The difference in wealth is so great it's impossible for me to estimate how much things are worth here simply based on my Australian knowledge. They need our money though so I just see this as contributing to the levelling process - as long as it's not just up to me though!

Anyway that probably gives you enough of an idea of my Kolkata experience. I'm trying to make train bookings to visit Bodhgaya and Orissa in the next few days before meeting Dad on Tuesday. However the population density means you normally have to book trains well ahead, so it's touch and go and pay a bit extra at the moment - all part of the adventure!

India Intro

So the next big trip is India with a bit of hiking in Nepal thrown in. Not my first prefence trip but somewhere I've always wanted to go and the timing worked with finishing my and being able to meet Dad in Tripura and my good friend Cara in Dehli.

The basic plan is to start in Kolkata, meet dad in Tripura, travel with him to Darjeeling, Varanasi, Jabalpur, Agra and Dehli. Then depending on what Cara's up to head to Nepal before coming back to Kashmir, Rajastan and work my way down the coast to Kerala and around to Chenai to fly home. Trip length is three months. Fixed tickets are new since I travelled to Europe, a result of increased competition and prices coming down a long way, meaning you now have to pay for extra's like flexibility.

So I hope I'm up for the adventure it's certainly going to be and I hope you'll enjoy hearing the stories.

PS I never finished blogging about the rest of my trip through Morocco, Spain and France, I still hope to do so one day though.

Pugsworth in Alpanderie

late last week we (Dana (the israeli girl ive been woofing with for a coule of weeks) and I) meet the other woofers in town, three black americans, two of whom are muslim converts. On sunday we moved in with them switching farms to make way for two german women who arrived monday (but Ive jsut met in the internet cafe). So we had three days with the five of us (they left Wednesday) which were very stimulating. we talked about racism in the united states and the differences between new york and arizona, and of course about islam which was also fascinating, hopefully we will continue the dialogue via email. I really enjoyed a few days of intellectual stimulation and the most interesting thing I picked up was that discrimination against blacks is much worse than against muslims, in arizona at least, New york is a little mroe cosmopolitan if still racially segragated.

My other bit of stimulation has been reading a biography of Karl Jung, which I borrowed of the local scotish resident. It is very thorough but I think I still getting to the best bits.

the new farm is a big improvement on the last one. most of the work is milking 400 goats with a machine, I mostly doing the sheparding in and out, wrestling with the few that like to jump the fence. This takes about 4 hrs a day, one and a half hrs before a breakfast consisting mostly of pork on toast. In the afternoons we have some good variety, working the 1000 sheep, 100 pigs or in the garden, collecting firewood etc. the days are longer but the work is not as physical as the last place which was a lot of hard labour. the home atmosphere is much better, more conversational and jovial in spanish that I understand, rather than arguments in sapnish that i didnt understand. So My spanish is noticibly improving.

I´ll be here until the end of next week then to Sevilla and cordoba hopefully servas and from there to another farm near cuidad real for a week or two before Madrid, maybe bilbao in the Basque country and a week in france. I think I´m down to six weeks left!



I've just had a great Semana Santa (Easter) here in the south of spain. I've spen the last month in a small village called Alpanderie, 150 people still living a pretty traditional life. I woofed for two weeks on one farm with horses but did mostly labour intensive gardening and raod fixing work (less hours though) then moved to another farm (not organic) that has 1000 sheep, 600 goats and a lots pigs. we spent four hours a day milking 400 of the goats, by machine, thank god. and then did a variety of light tasks in the afternoon. The main thing I learnt in both places was spanish which was great. I shared the whole time with an Israeli girl who has an amazing passion for learning spanish, she would refuse to talk english and spent most of her spare time reading her dictionary or any spanish text she could get her hands, she was really good for me. So it's been great to really improve my spanish but the other farm work was pretty boring, I really lacked mental stimulation. The village was great and it proved to be well worth my while to hang around for easter, a really great traditional community time. young people and others come from Malaga, Madrid and even france to help decorate the village with trees collected communally on Saturday from local gardens in the surrounding hills (did I mention the valley is really beautiful and some parts are so wild they are impassible). Everyone is drinking around the clock for about 3 days but mostly only drunk in that relaxed way that creates such good atmosphere, not totally wasted. Then on the sunday, they start at 8am dancing in the village square through till 4pm when the pagen celebration becomes this catholic procession of virgin and baby Jesus. repeated again at dusk with candles. nothing to serious or pompous but just a community having fun with its rituals, a great time had by all. Then by teh time I left this morning it had returned to its usual quiet self.
I'm now in Sevilla (back amoungst the tourists - doh!) but I have less than five weeks before I have to head home because my ticket expired. The plan from here is Cordoba, hopefully a spanish only speaking farm near Cuidad Real, Madrid, Bilbao and then my final week in france.