Enjoy the silence

I love India.  As soon as you step on into the sanctuary of the Intl airport in Delhi you realise just how same same the rest of the world is and how special India is.  However, after volunteering for 3 months in the Delhi summer (inc 48 degree 'winds') on a backpackers budget  (in a city where the expats happily knock back $25US cocktails) I fancied a break.

So here I am in Kathmandu.  If this had been my first destination I might have thought it noisy but after Delhi it's like I've clicked on the mute button.  The kids smile without holding out their hand, the tourist shopkeepers who nod without recommending an item you likely already own, and the rickshaw drivers drive on after a simple "no".  This is also a sanctuary but it's the home of the Himalayas so bliss is all natural.

My last few weeks in India was lurvley.  I headed down KSV, the project I previously worked with in Karnataka.  Going back to a field project after a 4 month break I saw the children and locals welcome me with a 'aha you're in this for the long run' smile.  It felt great.  

Delhi only gets a light touch of the monsoon whereas Karnataka gets a fair soaking.  Hats off to the volunteers, the children almost seem immune to the rain and you would have thought most volunteers from western Europe would be too (it even made me miss Ireland a bit until I laid out on my wet mattress) but living in the jungle in the monsoon without electricity, there is no place to dry out.   

Redundant flipflops

My sponsor child Sujata.  An absolute princess whilst I was there but a little grumpy when I left

 

In my previous 3 months role at KSV I'd had my fair share of creepies in my few days this time I was a banquet for the local mosquitos and bed bugs, I could almost read a brail pattern on my forehead saying 'welcome back sucker'. 

The trip also made me realise that England holds some of the blame for modern India.  I chose to fly down as it was 40 hours on the train one way and I still had 25 hours of train travel in Karnataka (and yes the railway was one good thing the Brits left behind).   I spotted something very interesting.  90% of the Brits on business in Bangalore were wearing short sleeved shirts and had pens in their top pockets.  Where the feck do these guys come from?  Is there a module in engineering degrees that models the efficiency of pocket pen to hand whilst vs. desk pen (and that's without mentioning the short sleeved shirt).   As a result the average business man in India looks like Mr Slick here from my office in Delhi.

 

Everyday I arrived at the office I wanted to 'do the creep' with Mr Slick.  To be fair one day I nearly turned up at work wearing flipflops and socks, a proper camel toe so we is even.

I finished my Delhi project on a high with sign off for the India Fundraising strategy from the regional head.  It had, however, been frustrating.  After 3 months I still hadn't got an email address and yet I was courting with Bollywood directors and CEOs.  Hilarious.  

Me on my last day with a leaving gift for the office.  In my three months there I'd seen no fruit on the office apart from my desk so I introduced them to some local produce ;)

I also did some last minute tourist stuff. My friend Mike and I went to this amazing light and sound show and were the only people there.   Delhi Tourism needs a slap, this show was amazing. 

A quick vid of the show...

Having stayed in one hotel for 3 months I had a bit of Alan Partridge syndrome going on.  I terminated our relationship promptly by having a mini fire in my room on my last night with the help of a 50cent plug adapter I'd bought at the market that day.  Nowt quite like going out with smoke. 

I ended my stay in Delhi with yoga on the terrace as I'd done most mornings.  It was amazing to be in such an intense city and yet at 530am to have a only mat and circling eagles as quiet companions.  The last few days were a bit different as there was a party of 50 tourists from Chennai in my hotel who's cooks slept on the terrace.  That meant I had an audience and a free breakfast with the lads so no complaints!

The lads cooking breakfast on the terrace.

Idli in a pot ....OMG :)

The day I left Delhi was surreal.  I got an early morning phone call from my travel insurance co. who after months of dispute over my cover for my injury offered to fly me home business class which I kindly declined.  Don't annoy me during my trip then try and end it early with the promise of a flying massage chair to a place I don't want to go right now!

The rest of the day was amazing.  My rickshaw on the way to the airport was on the meter (!).  When I arrived at the airport the security guard's hardest question when scrutinising my passport was "what is your name".   On waiting for the plane I was told by the check in staff to get on before the announcement was made, I had an emergency seat exit without  having requested one and was sat in between a Dr from WHO (have fun with that now) and a cool gal from Madrid.  The only negative was flying over Northern India reflecting on the destruction of the recent monsoon.  If you remember Roopak the polio kid I hung out with in Rishikesh, I still speak to him regularly, his home was flooded, he's fine and was one of the lucky ones.

So here I am in Nepal, breathing in the tranquility, arranging visas and flights for my next few months.  

For the past few months drinking nights have been rare but always in the company of Irish and in Kathmandu I met a gang who invited me to Foleys, the Irish Bar.  It was a hole but it was great to be out with a gang from da west listening to The Pogues whilst they slipped in cheap booze from the naggins of whiskey in their bags.  Only the Irish.  Crackin night.

Tomorrow, I start Vipassana.