London calling

Dirty little town on the Thames is calling you away- London Bombs, Eskimo Joe

Well, we are here, from the land of dingos and Vegemite, cold beer and warm beaches to the land of Big Ben, Placebo and cuppa teas, warm beer and cold beaches! That's right, we have hit the shores of the mother country. Up until know, the Queen's head on our money is the closest I have been to the British monarchy- I get nervous when the Queen and head come up in the same sentence......

So we are staying in a dapper part of town, right near Hyde Park. I have taken to saying 'ello guvna' and 'tally ho chaps' to everyone I meet- somehow it's different to people who say 'G'day mate' to every Australian they meet. Or maybe not.

But seriously, London is the most extreme juxtaposition to India- cold versus hot, clean versus dirty, expensive versus really really cheap. And after 5 months in Asia, the return to a western metropolis is a real eye opener. Unlike the inquisitive and sometimes intrusive staring of India, anonymity sets in fast in London. Eye contact is frowned upon, and apart from the backpacks, we blend into the background.

All in all, it feels nice to be in a large cosmopolitan city, and the first few days in London make a refreshing change from the wild back blocks of South East and Central Asia. Went for a stroll in Hyde Park yesterday, and today we are off to central London for a bit of a stroll along the Thames.

Ricky Ponting

The moment that most young Indian lads find out I am from Australia, cricket becomes the topic number one. And of course, because I come from Australia I am tarred with a similar brush of cricketing brilliance. From there, its a downward spiral through obscure cricket history and then statistics- run and strike rates. Cue the glazed eyes.

To make things interesting, I stir cricket fanatics up, suggesting that all Australians know the secret to our cricketing success. Of course I won't tell. Eyes widen and distress sets in.

I'm not into cricket, and the Indians I have spoken to know vastly more about current and historical cricket in Australia and the world than I will ever know. As anyone who has travelled in India knows, it is sometimes difficult to get common ground with Indian people. They clearly love the game, and I just don't have the heart to tell them that I don't care for it at all.

India for Indians

After 2 and a half weeks in Rishikesh, the decision to spread our wings is not an easy one. Rishikesh is like an oasis in a desert of intensity, and this is hammered home when we arrive in Dehra Dun, just an hours drive north. Uninspired by the hotels and scenery, we jump into a taxi and head up the hill to Mussoorie, dubbed the 'Queen of Hill Stations'. I am really impressed on the the drive up as road signs stress environmental awareness and the importance of treating nature with respect.

Mussoorie is where well heeled Indians go for holidays, and it is refreshing to see Indian families relaxing together. I visit Kempty Falls, where swarms splash about in the pools below falling waters. A couple of new acquaintances, Ashish and Harsh, insist on my swimming with them. It is really, really cold- and muddy too.

Indians really enjoy the muddy waters of Kempty Falls, but I decide it is not for me and retreat to the shore. We check out some of the other sights around Mussoorie with our friendly local guides, and have an eventful couple of days.

Still, I can't understand how Mussoorie, with rubbish everywhere, rates among Indians as extremely beautiful. Seems the environmentally aware signs have little influence. Maybe I'm just spoilt in Australia, but I really value a distinct lack of litter where I choose to live, holiday and swim.

The pretzel factory

With less than a month until our UK adventure begins, we decide to visit an ashram for meditation and yoga. A little recharging and relaxation. So we sit in silence, chant Om, and bend ourselves like pretzels twice a day for 15 days- and apart from the food we forget we are in India. No noise, no pollution and a really relaxed vibe.

Because it's so quiet all of the time, its hard to reference what it is like "outside"- but departure brings a sharp distinction. Traffic is loud, and smells pungent, but strangely enough, it bothers me a little less and I see people, and life in general, differently. The weeks of retreat at the ashram let me "see" people- their wants and thoughts before they say anything. I also "see" myself in a new light- considering my actions, reactions and interactions in a different way.

Got myself into some pretty interesting postures, and overall, left feeling light, flexible and energetic. Perfect frame of mind and body, and just what I wanted before the UK adventures begin.

Other residents at the ashram included monkeys, which were a constant source of inspiration, amusement and wonder. No hesitation to approach for food, or just to watch- some of them are as curious as I am.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hello everyone!

Had some technical difficulties, so have been unable to upload photos for the past few weeks. All sorted though, and 14 new posts are now available to get your teeth into.

Go nuts!

Simon

You don't win friends with salad

Simpson's fans amongst you would recall the episode 'Lisa the Vegetarian', where the entire family cruelly tease Lisa for her vegetarianism with the taunt: ' You don't win friends with salad!' I bet you're singing as you read. You are, aren't you!

Well, in Rishikesh, salad makes more friends than you can imagine. Most of the menus are all vegetarian, but unlike strict Hardiwar to the south, eggs are permitted. I think of carnivore friends at home and smile- Rishikesh is certainly not the place for a flesh-of-beast lover!

But I am in my element- it is so much cooler than Agra, yoga centres are dotted across the hillsides that skirt the holy Ganges, and every night, chanting and singing echoes up the valley. Right now, we are lazing on the balcony, buffeted by the cool Ganges breezes as it flows up to our room. Heavenly!

Agra and the Taj Mahal

Feel it HOT, HOT, HOT! Our Agran song.

It is really hot, blisteringly hot, with the mercury climbing to 48! I didn't know it could get that high. It really feels like we are in the Orient- the camels are a nice touch and that magnificent marble monument looms on the skyline- we hit it at dawn the next morning, hoping to miss the crowds and the heat.

The story goes that the Taj was constructed by a grieving husband after his wife passed away giving birth to their 14 child. The marble construction is a spectacular display of love, but 14 children- really! No wonder she passed on.

Seriously though, the Taj Mahal is an architectural wonder. I'm not really into architecture, but this is seriously impressive. Walls are engraved with precious stones and magnificent calligraphy, and the marble is brilliantly white- so much so that it almost glows in the morning light.

Driving wheels

Well he's following the broken lines, Living on borrowed time. Motel rooms and broken hearts all left behind. You swear he couldn't close his eyes, as he shifts into overdrive. He's been up and down this road so many times- Jimmy Barnes, Driving Wheels

Couldn't resist the chance to put a reference to Barnsey, however obscure. And apart from the last line, Barnsey got it right. We are hitting the road again today, 'following the broken lines' to India. Bit nervous about India actually- heard so much about it, and from accounts it is a land of extremes.

We cross at Sunauli, grab a taxi with 10 sweaty Indians and make for Gorakhpur, where the broad gauge train line heads west- and for us, a ticket to Agra. Although it is hot, and I mean really HOT, India is not as dirty as I had been led to imagine- a welcome relief. Ahead looms the pinnacle of Indian architecture, the Taj Mahal, but between the Taj and us are 25 hours of train travel.........

Lumbini- the birthplace of the Buddha

With our visa expiry date rapidly approaching, we decide to head towards India- down to the "terai", or plains, of Nepal. We arrive in Lumbini in the mid afternoon heat, and it is dry and still.

In the morning, I take a stroll in the gardens where Gautama Buddha was born- what an amazing place! Ruins dating back some 2300 years are scattered around some modest gardens, but more importantly, monasteries and meditation halls surround the sacred birthplace, charging the area with positive energy.

I sit under a tree and meditate for a couple of hours, enjoying the radiating glow of positive vibrations. Even though it is really hot, I depart feeling light, relaxed and energised.

The strike

After 10 days on the mountain, I am pleased to be "off". Back on the main road, cold beverages are consumed and buses are searched for- the first 2 shop keepers maintain that there are no buses today. Cynically, I wait for the offer of a 'good' taxi, but the offers do not come.

Apparently, there is a strike today. No buses, no taxis, no transport. I stumble, feeling almost broken. We left this morning at 5am, so we could be back in Pokhara before lunchtime. Cynicism is growing as we realise our morning shortcuts have placed us in the smallest settlement along the road. Kadre is little more than a couple of sleepy shops and a dodgy hotel divided by a black tar strip- and without a way out, it looks like it will be our resting place for the night.

I stubbornly refuse to accept defeat, and begin a mission around the town to organise transport. I speak to some truck drivers who have parked on the road verge. No luck. I speak to some friendly, but rather drunk, Nepali guys who kindly offer to drive us to Pokhara for 2500 rupees. I bargain for a bit, but I can't get the price below 2000- way too much, considering the bus costs 60. So no luck there either.

We take some lunch, and our host suggests walking. I am seriously considering it, but Steph flat out refuses. I don't blame her really, its hot and 30 kms is a long way. However, the choice may not be ours. Strike history in recent months has seen some strikes last over 2 weeks- so walking may be our only option. Desperately, I try to purchase a bicycle from a confused and unwilling Nepali teenager- he rides away and begrudgingly, we retreat to the best of the dodgy hotels to recharge for the next day.

In the late afternoon, Steph takes a stroll and returns with good news. Our trekking compadre Ferry is outside with a taxi booking and spare seats! Astonished, we quickly pack our belongings and within an hour we are back in Pohkara. And with the agony and ecstasy of the trek still fresh in our minds, the food at our favourite Pokharan restaurant tastes divine.

It's as easy as ABC Part 5 Going down

Well as the saying goes, what goes up must come down. And from our big morning, we launch into a big day, walking 8 and a half gruelling hours to lower Sinawa. Hard core, the down hill run is vicious on the knees, the ankles, the feet. As one goal is realised, another materialises on the horizon, and we strive for Pokhara, with passioned dreams of simple food, of cold Sprite, and not dal baht. For me the mountains have become a little overwhelming, the splendidly sublime isolation pushing me back towards "civilisation".

The next couple of days pass as a blur, walking up and down, touts offering tea in strange guesthouses, and weary but determined steps. Blur clears at Jinu Dhanad, where hot springs soothe our bones and tired muscles soften, but once more to fade into obscurity as the mental blinds draw closed and determination shuts down unnecessary function.

After 2 days, our goal horizon approaches, as we reach the town of Kadre. Pokhara is a short bus from here, a mere 30 kms. Dreams of cold beverages and favourite meals feature imaginatively, and we trudge our final steps to the main road.

But the adventure is only about to begin........

It's as easy as ABC Part 4 'Take it to the top'

Our final day of ascent is short but emotion charged, as we reach our goal. Surrounded by mountains on all sides, I feel almost cocooned by nature but eerily close to my mortality. A lonely monument stands testament to the adventurous souls who left their bodies in the Annapurnas, and given the extreme climate and terrain it is easy to imagine.

I ask for continued protection on my descent and thank the mountains for their hospitality.... and with that, fog, snow and sleet marches up the valley- perhaps the mountains had revoked their protection? I retreat to my lodge just in case.

Morning time brings new wonders. In the pre-dawn light, the Annapurnas luminesce, the rising sun reflecting off snow blankets. The sun emerges over Machapuchare, castings its slender, golden fingers over all the peaks and bathing them in an surreal orange glow. The seven days we have taken to reach this point is now bearing its greatest dividends, as the spectacular mountains awaken to a cloudless sky. Honestly, words cannot grasp the sheer magnitude of this moment.

It's as easy as ABC Part 3

Chhomrung onwards sees the most amazing views of Machhapuchhre and Annapurna South, the peaks appearing magical and mystical as they disappear through the clouds. Though the walking is tough, the mountains share their natural energy and the trek is both exhilarating and exhausting.

Duerali is a quiet night, filled with the special sounds of nature- crickets, distant flowing water and wind rushing through trees... a perfect accompaniment to a sound night's sleep.

The morning sees us make for Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC), knowing that the day will be one of the toughest yet with a 1200m increase in altitude- tough climbing. But the views that afternoon and evening are spectacular, and we even get a ringside seat just as the moon rises over Machhapuchhre and the sun bathes the uppermost peaks with a deep orange glow.

I have a special affinity with the moon, so it's a special privilege to watch it rise in such a sublime setting- truly humbling. A memory amongst a thousand others which is indelibly fossilised upon the consciousness.

It's as easy as ABC Part 2

A knock on the door at 4am reminds us the sky is clear- and the climb to Poon Hill for the sunrise is a Ghorepani institution. The cold bites, but the spectacular vista is more than worthwhile.

The next couple of hours see us getting lost, returning to our starting point and realising that our map is wrong. Not a little bit, but a lot......towns are in the wrong place!

Still, we push on and reach Tadapani in time for dinner. And along with a troupe of Aussies, we meet a Dutch yoga master, Ferry, and over the next few days share some agonising and ecstatic times together, ascending, descending and taking in the magical views.

We arrive at Chhomrung quite early the next day and, on the advice of some likely English lads, sample some famous Chhomrung pizza. The legend continues. The ABC-bound group swells, as Stuart from NZ and Debra and Elanor from the UK also pull into our guest house for the night.

It's as easy as ABC Part 1

Along with the sleepy lakeside address and moderate climate, Pokhara is popular with travellers for its proximity to many trekking options- mainly the Annapurna Circuit and Base Camp treks. Our Dutch travel compadres in Tibet spoke with passion about their 'ABC' experience, and we decide to venture into the mountains to see the Annapurna's for ourselves.

After a short bus trip to Nyapul, we head for Tirkhe Dhunga, which is an easy 4 hour walk through sweeping valleys and up and down some stone steps. The next leg really tests our perseverance- 3280 stone steps spiralling from valley to mountain ridge just after breakfast, the morning sun warming our backs. Pheww!

We reach Ghorepani in the mid afternoon, wearily taking to our beds for a nap. Trekking as a term conjures such romantic notions, but in reality it is well removed from the trekking romanticism discussed in the guide books- a really tough walk so far.

Pokhara

After the frantic and addictive energy of Kathmandu, Pokhara feels like a step back in time. The central travellers hub stretches along the eastern shores of Lake Fewa, trickling away to almost nothing in both directions. It is pre-monsoon in Pokhara- not may tourists and rain coming in bucket loads most afternoons, which means really persistent touts and business owners trying to secure the meagre season's tourist dollars.

We score a room with a balcony and settle in to watch the rainstorm cross the valley and erupt around us. Pokhara has a really nice feel about it- I think I'm gonna like it here.

Return to Kathmandu

And after nearly 2 weeks in Tibet, the return to Nepal is magnificent.

Friendly faces greet us at every turn and the weather is balmy, fantastic food and plenty of doing not much at all. A real treat. If visiting Kathmandu for the first time was enchanting, return to Kathmandu was just as special- like being welcomed home by an old friend.

Everyone should visit Kathmandu at least once in their life. Around every corner, rewards are waiting to be discovered. Beneath the grubby exterior and past the compulsory power cuts, Kathmandu exudes charm, a relaxed and unassuming nature, and an exciting and ever changing face. Oh, I miss it already.

Monkey Magic??

Well, after a week in Lhasa, Steph and I decided to head back to Kathmandu. Looking for warmer weather and a significant drop in altitude. We hire a jeep with a couple of random American travellers and make the journey from Lhasa to Kathmandu in just 2 days.

Our jeep driver reminds me of a celebrity-Monkey from the TV show Monkey Magic (definitely showing my age there!) Unfortunately, our driver could not understand what I was on about, and without a common language, it is difficult to explain that he looks like a character from a 1960 fantasy program about a couple of weird Chinese guys traversing the country looking for adventure, casting spells and generally running a muck.

Anyone remember Monkey, Pigsy and the rest of the gang?

Namsto Lake

Almost at the top of the world sits Namsto Lake, the highest salt lake in the world. Sounds impressive, eh? Well, it is.

Along with our Dutch travel compadres, Merein and Jorien, we hire a Land Cruiser and a driver, and head north from Lhasa to Namsto. We cross a pass at 5190m- there is thick snow everywhere and the wind is freezing. It even snows on the drive there. Hailing from Australia, snow is a novelty, a novelty lost on our Dutch companions.

When we reach Namsto, the lake is partially frozen over, and icebergs (cool!) are scattered across the surface. As I have never seen icebergs, I temporarily lose sanity and leap into the freezing water to walk on the icebergs. Doesn't really happen, but it makes for a good story and great photo.

But the cold really sets in, and it starts to snow. Its really, really, really cold, and our 18 month summer does not seem to assist Steph and I to deal with the cold. The novelty has worn off. We have not slept in a tent in 3 months, and we choose a freezing cold, snowing Tibetan mountain lake as the time to change.....go figure! And as Namsto is around at 4850m, we all have a really bad night. Steph is worst off, and we decide to head back to Lhasa a day early. Really makes you realise how delicate the body is- a couple of kilometres above sea level and we're in trouble.

But we get a clearer picture of what Tibetan life is like- I think the pictures speak for themselves.

Lhasa, Tibet

Well, I don't know for how long I have dreamt of the land of Tibet, of seeing the Potala Palace with my own eyes, and of experiencing the magical spiritual home of the Dalai Lama...... and after 5 days of travel from Kathmandu, we arrive in Lhasa.

I have read extensively about the Tibetan political situation, but nothing could have prepared me for just how far the Chinese had taken cultural genocide in Tibet.

For a Tibetan city, Lhasa looks very Chinese. Worryingly Chinese. Like there is no Tibet left. The Potala Palace is perched in the middle of a sprawling Chinese business district, and at the base of the Palace, the Chinese have thoughtfully put in a Tienanmen-style square. On the highest point of the Potala sits a Chinese flag. I know it sounds bad, but it really is bad. This is not Tibet, this is China.

For a more candid look at the political situation in Tibet, the feel of the place and some impressions, please have a look here.

In the Tibetan quarter of Lhasa, the Jokhang Temple appears to be one of the last vestiges of "real" Tibetan Buddhist culture left- in Lhasa, at least. And it has that amazing spiritual energy I came to Tibet for.