On the road again

 The voyage to S****m has brought back a memory from 1998. At that time I met my friend Pushpa where the train finished and we caught a jeep up to the border of the state where foreigners have to check in. About half way up I had some lovely momos. By the time we reached the border gate my tummy decided it did not like momos much. I was about to check in when I decided I needed to go outside very fast. I left the momos in the garden beside the big house where foreigners report in. Nearly 30 years down the track I recognised the house but could not take a photo of it. In the photo it is the yellow building in the distance. There is a new check in place closer to the welcome arch. 

This time around reporting in could have been fraught too but for the efforts of people waiting in the bus interceding. I did say to my friends if we are going to S*****m I will need a permit. They asked the bus driver when booking the tour but he said you can book in when you arrive. Not so. One needs to apply online. Fortunately the staff were very kind and Amit printed off the documents I needed to supply like copies of my visa and passport. It was also fortuitious I had a digital copy of my passport photo on my phone too. Eventually we were on our way. I did feel sorry for the people waiting in the hot bus though. 

The trip in and out was very slow and took several hours longer than google predicted. The trip out was particularly interesting because a dozen of us were supposed to catch a jeep from G*****k to K*******g. In the end we joined the others on the bus. I sat beside a didi who decided it would be good to sing. She was quite a loud singer. I was debating whether to wear my noise cancelling headphones or not. I decided it was probably too rude. After about half an hour she stopped and asked me if I liked her singing to the L**d. To be fair I did not. However, I thought it was very nice she wanted to sing so told her that.

It was very hot and cramped for five hours of slow travel. I was able to listen to a couple of messages by RT Kendall on total forgiveness and forgiving yourself. I discovered him a week ago and have been listening to what is posted online. He also has a very good message about grieving the HS

We got off the bus at the turnoff to K*******g and waited for a taxi. Some turned up and we arrived about 7pm. We were all extremely snackish by this time as we had not eaten lunch. I had some lovely momos. They came with soup which was very bland.  Thankfully  tummy has forgotten how obnoxious its younger self found  momos.  I also had a butter naan which was tasty but not good enough to make the top five best naan bread I have ever eaten. People find it very strange I eat butter naan "dry" as they call it. 

This morning my tummy was a bit squiffy again so I opted out of another tour. They group will be away five hours or so. To be fair I am a bit over long slow trips in vehicles. They will text me when they are thirty minutes away and will pick me up on the way back to the orphanage where they are staying. I will have dinner up there. In the meantime I will do some exploring once I have caught up on emails. 

Didi on the loose

 I went on an adventure with five didi yesterday. Most of the group were cruising around the east where suspicious looking foreigners are not allowed. Even non-suspicious foreigners like me are banned from this area. They were expected to return about 1pm when we would go on a local tour. When they realised they would not return by then they rang and organised a tour for those of us left behind. The didi were rugged up in their shawls because it is very cold to them. I was very comfortable in my cotton salwar. 

 We walked to the pick up place and waited and waited. Across the road some people were protesting and calling for the removal of some government official. I  do not know how long we waited but dada from the hotel said the taxi drivers were not coming because of the protest. There were about 30 youngish people shouting slogans and waving placards. Several army trucks drove by and police. No-one seemed that interested. The didi went and bought biscuits to sustain themselves. Didi insisted I eat two tasty biscuits a bit like cameo creams but orange flavoured.

Eventually the vehicle turned up and we piled in and were taken up a twisty road to a lookout place. There were food stalls there but none of us wanted to eat. My stomach was still doing cartwheels, so I was not game to eat anything in case the cartwheels turned into a brown waterfall.

Anyway the didi decided they had enough of that place so we returned home.

I tried to buy some Imodium at a small shop outside the hotel but the chemist dada said I could only buy at the market. The market was too far to walk to because of the hills. The whole city is perched somewhat precariously  on a hillside. I wondered to myself if I could catch a taxi. I asked a girl standing nearby if she could speak English. “Of course,” she said.

So I asked her how to catch a taxi and she flagged one down for me. He dropped me off near the market and I started walking. I called into each chemist I passed but no Imodium. I showed them my phone with the different names for Imodium and finally one dada said he had some.

I kept going to the market which is named after the Mahatma. I should have joined the throngs taking selfies with his statue but that did not occur to me. The area is closed to traffic with shops on either side on a big walking area. It is very pleasant.

I found a shop with tasty looking cake. The blueberry cheesecake looked delicious but I was not game to eat anything with dairy. I did buy a piece of chocolate gateau which was khub tasty. I ate it and swallowed an Imodium to go with it. My stomach seemed to be calm so I went to look for a taxi home.

 Sometimes returning home is more challenging than arriving somewhere but I managed to find one.

He dropped me off at the district court building which is not far from my hotel and trudged my way up the hill. It is very satisfying being able to figure things out for myself.

More than conquerors

 Reflecting on my reaction to my new hotel yesterday, I realise there is still too much prima donna alive and well in my soul. It is so tempting to focus on what is not there rather than what is. While it is true there were a few things missing one might expect to be there, the bed is very comfortable. There is hot water for showering. There is a comfortable chair and this morning the sun is streaming in both windows. Interestingly the water has stopped running but expect that will be restored soon. 

Being grateful and thankful for what I have is far more empowering than whingeing about what I do not.

Today I have a rest day. Some of the group have left for a tour of east S****m where foreigners are not allowed to visit. My tummy is a little skiffy so will be careful what I eat.  I think the plan is another tour of this area when they return at lunchtime. I have a message to prepare for Monday so may stay at home. 

Tomorrow we leave for K*******g for a couple of days before returning to the regional airport. Then it is back to the big city before flying home. 

Pulling the wool

 I have finished my eight hours of speaking about walking in the spirit. As always, it is my happy place sharing truth with others. However, I am continually challenged to walk the talk myself and have nearly had a couple of whoopsies. Luckily, they were internal, short lived and did not make it to the outside. 

We were supposed to leave by bus at 3am this morning to travel to S****m in time for a tourist tour. When I say we I mean the 70 people I spoke to at their retreat. It must be a logistical nightmare getting that many people from one place to another, but Amit does it very calmly. and efficiently. 

 Fortunately, we did not leave as early as planned. The call came at 230am to advise us there was a delay. The bus eventually picked us up about 7am. I was grateful for the three hours extra sleep. 

The last 30km of the trip to the foothills was very slow as slips had come down on the road and there was a lot of traffic. We eventually made it at about 3pm and had lunch. 

I am staying in a different hotel than the others. It is nice to have some space to myself after the last action packed 72 hours. 

The hotel is named the Royal Sheep Residency. To be fair compared to the previous two nights it is bit of a sheep pen. That could well the reason it is a third of the price of the other place. It has no air conditioning and no fan. It had no bottle of water, coffee or tea and the sheets and pillowcase did not look particularly clean. I felt bit of a heel but asked for replacements and these certainly look clean. I asked at the desk about air conditioning and the woman said it is not needed in this climate. It does appear other rooms have it though. 

Someone said once that suffering is when you don't get your own way and I think that is a good definition. It is interesting to weigh up in this situation does it really matter if there is no air conditioning or fan?

It is just jolly lucky I am walking in the spirit else I might look for another hotel lol. 

Take the short way home

 At the risk of speaking too soon, I may have figured out how to move around this city. Yesterday I managed to get to church and home. Later in the afternoon I went out again to a big mall.

By accessing an Uber app I can put in where I want to go and almost magically a yellow steed, auto rickshaw, turns up on my doorstep and whisks me away.

 The only trick is getting my location entered in correctly on the return trip home. I found that out the hard way yesterday. One driver gave up on me reaching the pickup point and I gave up on reaching the pickup point for the next ride I ordered. I had walked several hundred metres and still not reached the right place.

Fortunately, the Uber app ave me another pickup point.

If I prefer, I can choose a white steed which is an air-conditioned car but that is for longer distances. I also have the option of motorcycle but not sure I am game to try that in the traffic.

Time of day and weather conditions mean the price of the steed can fluctuate but once locked in can not change. 

The irony of this instant travel solution does not escape me. More than 230 years since Bill Carey arrived here by ship and walked or boated to where he needed to go it takes me minutes not days to reach my destination.

 

 

Consider it pure joy

 

Yesterday on our shopping trip, a fun trip was had by all but only because if we did not laugh we may have cried.

Mossee and I went by tuk tuk to the air conditioned mall nearby. Our mission was to find a salwar chemise top or two for me to wear when I am speaking. Normally this would not be too difficult. Even though my Canterbury farm girl physique is a littler chunkier than the average petite local, there was usually a “big size for memsahib”. Unfortunately memsahib has put on more than just a little weight since she was last in the market for clothes so I knew it would be a challenge to find something to fit.

Usually I have bought a matching salwar chemise set which included trousers and possibly a duparta, scarf, thrown in as well.  The best place to find these were at markets. Nowadays with the advent of air conditioned malls clothing shops sell them.

The shops while selling items cheaper than in NZ are  more expensive than a market. The tops are displayed in exquisitely ordered piles. We unfortunately had to demolish the orderly appearance of the piles to find what we wanted.  We looked for a design I liked, pulled the XXL size from the bottom of the pile and then see  if I  could pull it up over my arms. If the article fitted over my arms, then I might try it on. Otherwise we left it in a semi-tidy pile for someone with a gift  of folding to refold. Mossee said it was ok. I felt a little embarrassed.

After we had done this twenty times or so Mossee hit on the idea of measuring it across the back of my shoulders. This was far more efficient and less heat producing method of deciding if the top might fit. I have not mentioned the heat but the temperatures are in the thirties at present.

 Eventually we found two tops that would suffice. One had matching trousers and for the other one we found some. I need counselling for the price I paid. I am still hoping to find another one or two on a market expedition but I have not told Mossee that yet.

 Later we went fruit and vegetable buying. This was far less exhausting.  We bought papaya, guava and okra. I also found some amla which are Indian gooseberries. We cooked them up this morning. I expected them to turn to mush like gooseberries usually do. To my surprise however, they stayed whole and had a stone in them much like a plum.

 

The reason I bought the amla was because I read somewhere they helped deal with cholesterol. Not sure in the quantities I will eat them my cholesterol numbers will change much though.

Mossee is off to buy m**t this afternoon. A big festival where non-meat eating is esteemed is about to start. No m**t will be available for sale for about a week. From past experience I know it is about to get very noisy and possibly a little crazy.

Catching up with old friends

 Here I am safe and sound in a place similar to Hephzibah but not Hephzibah. Guess there can be more than one city that will be renamed Hephzibah. 

I eventually made it through immigration not because someone took exception to letting an on-holiday journalist into the country but because several plane loads of people arrived at once and there were long queues.

A kind immigration dada let me fill in a form I missed seeing I needed at his desk without making me go to the back of the queue. He also commented on my journalist visa. "You are a journalist," he said with what could have been an admiring tone in his voice.

"Oh no sir," I protested. "Not for the next two weeks. I am on holiday." He seemed to enjoy the joke.

I eventually found my old friend Mossee  outside the building. Only people leaving or arriving on planes are allowed inside the building.  She was wondering if she had missed me. 

We went to catch an Ola which is like an Uber but cheaper. Mossee did not like the look of the car the driver pulled up in. She thought it was a bit bent out of shape. There is no doubt it had been bent out of shape in various places and then bent back in. I wondered if we should drive with someone who possibly could have a penchant to smashing up his vehicle. However,  the car was probably driven by others who might have done the damage. So we gave him the benefit of the doubt and arrived home without any incidents. 

I sat down to a hearty breakfast of chicken curry,  rice, cucumber and  dahl cooked by Mossee's daughter Chame.  I certainly will not need lunch. There was nearly one small astronomical mishap when I noticed a heart shaped something that indeed was a heart. I managed to swallow it down with some rice and dahl with never a nauseus turn of the stomach. For some people chicken feet, hearts and necks are a delicacy but not for this Canterbury farm girl.

I have a lovely large bedroom while the other three in the household share a smaller room. It has a lovely balcony. I do enjoy a sit on a balcony although it is a bit hot for that at present.

The bedroom is complete with a welcome basket of goodies and a large salwar top that Mossee managed to find. 

It is only 11am but feels like mid afternoon which it is at the ends of the earth. Later we will venture out to the mall and see what other super large outfits we can buy to fit me. Friday is market day so we will also go there and buy some guava and ladies finger. 

Seeing the crows cawing melancholically, mother cow wandering wherever she pleases, and hearing the noise of the traffic are like being reacquainted with an old friend.