Yoga - the fashionable antidote to everything...Part I

Doesn't it look cool?  It makes Robert Downey Junior Fly, Adam Levine levitate, Sting last all night and Mr Brand fine and dandy. 

It is a massive part of my life.  And as during my time in India it has developed even further I thought I'd write a little blog post on it ......

Pt I

• Yoga - the pursuit of inner peace or just a sculpted body?
• Why India is not spiritual
• The Borat of Yoga
• My initial interest in yoga: Yoga Girls and a little stretch
• Why mum is always right

and coming soon......(Part 2 and Part 3)

• My yoga teacher training course: Yoga Girls
• Rishikesh, Gurus, Love and all that mumbo jumbo spiritual stuff
• The purpose of yoga?....."Go f@ck yourself"
• Yoga of the purpose
• The Tantra conversation  - The bad boy of Yoga
• How to do yoga without doing yoga 

In 2005 I signed up for an 8 week yoga course in between a prison and a halting site (where all the pikeys hang out in Ireland).  It was in a health club called Jackie Skelly close to my office.  I called it Jackie Skankie, based on the bare knuckle fights that took place in the changing room and the serious prospect of finding a dead body in the pool most days.  I  did alot of sport but wanted to try something new.  It was as simple as that.  Oh, and the fact that yoga had lots of pretty, slim girls, wearing skimpy clothes.

Like learning anything new it's down to the amount of practice and how good your teacher is. I got very lucky, my first teacher was a hot Scottish girl so that helped the shallow me stay in the class in a trance. Once I was hooked to yoga I had some of the most impressive teachers I've ever had.  Sibylle Dallmann (also hot ;) ) and Luke Jordan.  These guys had phenomenal agility, flexibly and balance all wrapped in aura of calm and I wanted some of that. To get teachers like this teaching in a hole like Parkwest was quite a treat, and for me is what made me continue my yoga quest.   I also became calmer, more flexible and was surprised in how much harder an hour on the yoga mat could be than an hour in a spinning class.  It was all yoga based on the mat but I always wondered about the origins and spiritual side of yoga.  Within the following years I went on yoga holidays, got lots of yogi buddies and even my mum said she thought yoga was one of the best things I'd ever started due to me becoming little Mr Calm. 

I got to the stage where I was doing yoga at least 4-5 times a week and I wanted to try the next step up so I decided to do yoga teacher training.  Not because I wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to deepen my knowledge of yoga.  I chose to do it in India as I'd been planning to travel to India for a while and it was after all the 'home of yoga'.  In the west yoga is basically gymnastics; it mainly involves moving dynamically around a mat and ending up with a sculpted body.  The most fashionable right now, Bikram (Hot Yoga), is so far from the original yoga that it's been removed from the US Yoga Federation.  It's more sport than yoga.  Yoga is about reaching inner peace through more than just the yoga mat and a handy byproduct is improved physical health.  Why do we need that?  If you want to it's pretty easy to get a sculpted body in today's world of gyms and protein shakes, however, if you want inner peace it's not so simple.  And boy do we need it.  Recent reports in the UK showed that 1 in 6 people are on anti-depressants.  So where does yoga come in?  Well, when I started I thought it was all about pushing yourself in poses, like this (not my photo):

However, I now think that the below is the hardest yoga pose.  Being able to switch off your monkey mind in savasana for +5 minutes is tougher than any physical pose (also not my photo).

Many tourists come to India for it's reputation as the spiritual capital of the world or a 'giant spa with cheap food'.  The oldest religious and spiritual texts are from India and although the 'west is best' culture has taken over there are still many remnants of this spiritual history.  For example Kumbh Mela, a Hindu pilgrimage where as recent as this year +100m hindus flocked to dip themselves in the sacred Ganges river including Sadhus who have been living ascetic lives in isolation for years.  And let's also not forget that the  most spiritual leader of recent history GandhiJi was Indian.

Kumbh Mela 2013 (not my pic - I wasn't there) 

However, I'm not so sure India is that spiritual any more.  Previously temples were stunning buildings carved out of stone for peaceful meditation.  Modern temples are gregarious buildings with a focus on the commercial aspect of religion.  

 

The Shiva temple in Bangalore even has a smoke machine to entertain punters. 

That doesn't mean people aren't going there to worship, or aren't getting their 'money' worth of blessings.  An issue here (said the fundraiser) is that religion is where most people donate their money to; in a country where 70% of the population doesn't have access to a toilet they still prefer to give their money a wishing well.  Indians are among the least altruistic people in the world (133 out of 144 in the world giving index in 2012......Oz is #1 and Ireland #2).  It's not because Indians are poor (the index takes that into account and in fact Pakistan, India's favourite neighbour with a similar GDP per capita is #85). That's not because Indian people don't care, it's because they are almost immune to poverty with it being on such a grand scale on their doorstep.   

Just as the average Indian will ask you within the first breath of questions whether you are married, most spiritual Indians will offer a solution.  Many priests will happily reduce the weight of your wallet in exchange for a promise of finding a partner, children and wealth.  The odd thing is according to the scriptures here, none of that is relevant.  True spirituality here is focused on losing attachment and finding inner peace. Aha, then came the dollar and it all changed.  Earning a living is part of 'Purusatha', one of the ancient vedic scriptures on which yoga is based but by positive means not by exploiting an opportunity.  Yoga is based on writings from the vedas the most ancient scripts on record.  Hinduism was also part of the vedas and it's easy to imagine the two intertwined (as my mum did when I first started yoga!) but the vedas are a big library of text and Yoga is not a religion.

Kumare is a hilarious film about an Indian born in America who decides to chance his arm as a fake guru (borat style) and it works.  So if you do come to India, bear in mind there are plenty of good gurus but also a lot of fakes.

Why do yoga teacher training in India?  I've lots of friends who learnt in the west and if you want to 'teach' in the west that is advised.  Yoga in India is quite different from how you'd expect.  Classes are quite aggressive, usually with a pot bellied teacher wearing a string vest shouting at you and pushing you through the asanas (postures).  I'm guessing yoga wasn't always like that, I think the west is best focus of physical  fitness has meant indians (obviously not the teachers.....!) like to focus on that leaving the calming nature of yoga behind.  That doesn't mean it's wrong.  I managed to find a yoga teacher training school in India where you learnt to teach westerners.  Result. 

Here's a taster of one of the trainee teachers who'd been practising yoga for a year.    We called her 'Yoga Girl'.

In my mind that's what YTT (Yoga Teacher Training) would be all about.  Developing my understanding of yoga whilst improving my own practice and hanging out with very bendy hot girls like this.  I wanted to be able to do the scorpion and hook up with a nice yoga lady.  I didn't realise that my ego would get in the way.  

This is pretty close to what I was like at YTT.....

To be continued......

Royal Rajasthan

Departing at Varanasi railway station I was singing  "So long farewell, auf wiedersehen, good night".  As I did so someone approached me saying ‘hello friend’ and tried to take my bag off my back saying something about how it looked heavy for me, and that they had a rickshaw.  In fact two guys tried this in the space of 2 minutes and both asked me where I was going, my reply to the first was the toilet and to the second Jaipur.  Both walked away confused.  I will return to Varanasi when it’s high season as I’ve heard many amazing stories so have to give it a second chance but for now I was delighted to be getting a train to Rajasthan.  So, what did Rajasthan have to offer:

·        Pants in my face

·        A very saucy dinner

·        Octopussy overload

·        Flossing a camel’s teeth

·        Sexy knees and skid marks

·        I need your help……please read the last paragraph it’s important

For the first time in my trip I was travelling 2^nd class (AC2).  I’d been travelling AC3 and Sleeper class and hadn’t seen the need to splash out the extra cash but for this nighttrain to Jaipur the waitlist in AC3 was +40 and AC2 was 5 which meant I got a confirmed seat J.  AC2 was quite the treat compared to AC3, I hadn’t envisaged so much more space, and your own reading light; it’s the little things!  My compartment companions were ‘businessmen’ from Jaipur.  No more details, just businessmen.  One had a briefcase with perfectly folded shirts, a massive calculator, sandwiches, Old Spice (player) and 15 pens.  The pens were a backup to the 3 in the shirt pocket.  If there was a quick pen draw equivalent to cowboy movies Indian businessmen would win everytime.  I, however, didn’t call these lads businessmen for long I called them the underpant boys.  5 minutes into the journey they both stripped down to their jocks and changed their clothes.  They were not wearing old spice and had eaten way too many sandwiches, even the extra space on AC2 still meant their bellies were in my face.  Thanks Lads. 

The rest of the journey was a breeze.  I met two Canadian girls I’d met briefly in Varanasi and we marveled over our Indian neighbours.  Another one, an auntie of a ‘generous size’ had someone deliver food at every station.  She ate for most of the 16 hour journey.  Jabba the Hut is alive!  They also all commanded the Indian skill of how to answer a phone on the train by looking at the screen for at least 10 slow seconds to establish that it is indeed a phone in their hand (you know the way your gran does) then pick up and loudly shout ‘helllo, hello, hello , hello’.  Similar to the Bye bye  bye bi bi bibibibi in Ireland.  Kinda makes me miss home.

As always the food on Indian Rail was a delight but I was a little taken aback when I visited the pantry train.   The logistics were amazing and you’ll be pleased to hear that the kitchen staff were wearing a hygiene glove.  One hygiene glove.  On their right hand.  What the feck?  Yes, I know the right hand is used to serve but the left one always slips in to pad the rice down and that has been used for ‘other’ stuff.

First stop in Rajasthan was Jaipur.  I was travelling with Vasi, a friend from back home which was a welcome break from doing stuff alone but took a bit of adjustment to get to the pace of someone else.  The most important thing was that Vasi bought wine :)

Rajasthan is India’s hub for tourists and having just come from Varanasi I was expecting an onslaught of sales pitches but although they came, the aggression and volume wasn’t there.  The season also made a difference.  September is the month to travel to Rajasthan, just before the high season in October so still quiet and yet blistering blue skies every day.  Jaipur offered a fantastic introduction to the lavish Maharaja lifestyle with it's breathtaking palaces and impenetrable fortresses.

We avoided all organized tours but were sucked into a night tour by a silver tongued agent at the Indian Railway government tourist office.  It all looked legit and sounded amazing, seeing the forts by night via the comfort of a Volvo air suspension (big deal here!) AC coach.  To our surprise this is what turned up.

 

We spent 5 hours driving around on this.  The ride itself was comfortable and the breeze beat any AC system but it was just the tip of the iceberg of false advertising.  We went to a few palaces then were taking to a shopping bazaar in the middle of no-were where we were told we were under no obligation to buy.  Even the my moonwalking technique as perfected in Varanassi wasn’t gonna get us out of this one.  We were stuck.  I won’t bore you with the rest of the trip other than to say that the Indian customers complained.  That says a lot!  A hidden gem that the tourist office did suggest was Abhaneri stepwell.  Despite it being 3 hours from Jaipur and pretty much the only thing to see in the village it was a feast for the eyes....

Here's just a few of the other treats Rajasthan has to offer...

My favourite meal in Jaipur was Deshi Paneer.  Very saucy...

It was at restaurants like this one that I started to see a pattern. I was finally on a tourist circuit.  You’d see people arrive looking like they’d just been kitted out at their camping shop in Milton Keynes, defending themselves by holding up a copy of the Lonley planet infront of themselves whilst maintaining continuous re-hydration though sucking on their little camel pack.  You’d spot them ‘fresh off the ferry’ (not that there is a ferry to India…..but) asking for non-spicy food and constantly eyeing the toilet door just incase the finest cuisine in the world gave them a little fireworks display.  The big benefit was that it meant the cafes on the tourist circuit offered a lovely bit of home comforts with big cushions, good porridge (I like porridge!) and Air/Zero Seven pumping out of the speakers.

Next step Udaipur.  My mum took me to see my first Jimmy Bond film, Octopussy when I was 7.   As James Bond films go this is a bad one but gave me my first view of the wonders of India being located primarily in Udaipur.  The city is exactly as it looks in the photos, one of the most romantic places I’ve ever been despite the only romance in my life being my yoga mat every morning on the terrace. 

The film Octopussy was shown in proper Indian style with the waiters stood in front of the screen and the movie image not working for 90% of the film. 

Despite the best tourist facilities I’d come across in India, Rajasthan didn’t offer a good connection between Udaipur and Jaisalmer.  Most tourists get a car and a driver for their trip but that’s not in my budget so we travelled via bus to Jodhpur and then another bus to Jaisalmer.  The first 6 hours provided a roller coaster of potholes and a driver who appeared to have consumed amphetamines or be on the run.  As a result the door of the bus was soon surrounded by Indian women pucking their guts up.  Lucky for us we’d had no time for breakfast.  The afternoon bus was 100% local meaning I was sitting in fetal position for 7 hours and when the bus was quieter, the children were staring in amazement at my knees.  Seems on my recent trip to Thailand I’d forgotten some unspoken rules of rural india and not covered up my knees. 

Just before we arrived in Jaisalmer a motorbike pulled out infront of us, our escape route was to go head to head with a truck something which we’d been doing all day and Indian style ‘just made the overtake’. This time, however, the bus skidded sideways and abruptly came to a halt missing both bike and truck.   High fives all round and a quick celebration.  We were in the desert, alive.

Here’s a brief example of overtaking from earlier in the journey:

In Jaisalmer we stayed in a hotel for 100RS /night.  That’s about 1 euro and 20 cents for a private room, bathroom and wifi.  The sheets might have had blood stains and the room an odor of sewage but it was cheaper than breakfast!  Jaisalmer is built on desert a few miles from the Pakistan border so you have the serene setting of clear sand dunes pierced by the patrolling Indian air force.  Oddly the last time I’d seen desert was when I was travelling in Syria 7 years ago and sadly that is all that will be left of what is a beautiful country.  

The desert was welcome respite after a solid day of bus travel with traffic horns and street sellers.  We went on a camel safari and at one point I remember sitting under the shade of a tree and only being able to hear the scribe of my pencil onto my journal, the banter of our local guides and the bubbling of lunch stewing over an open fire.  I might be in the land of meditation but I’m still lacking in mindfulness but at that point I felt I was in paradise :).  The camels, however, had another idea.  Although they had cute telebubby names, Lala and Bala liked to show us they were boss.  Doing random dance moves without warning made it feel like a white knuckle rodeo show.  Luckily the views kept our focus along with the need to focus on breathing through one’s mouth due to a case of the worst camel halitosis ever.  There is a vegetarian argument for not eating meat based on it rotting in your teeth and causing bad breathe.  It doesn't ring true with camels as they are 100% vegan yet their breath can be smelt a mile away.

Villagers in the desert:

My camel in a very rare stationary pose...

Sleeping under the stars in the desert was bliss.  It is rare to get you own space and quiet in India but this place delivered it in abundance. The only break to the peace was my snoring companion and dung beetles which zoomed across just above your nose every 5 minutes sounding like bi-planes (full of shite) just about to crash.

Sunset in the desert....

As we boarded our night train out of Rajasthan I reflected on the overwhelming majesty of the place and yet I'd only seen part of it.  I hadn't have enough time to go to Mount Abu or Pushka so have an excellent excuse to go back.  Besides, the next time I have a girlfriend I am taking her to Udaipur, staying in the Lake Palace hotel and having lots of erotic sauce.

We arrived back in Delhi at 6am and I said goodbye to Vasi.  She had been the worst wing man ever but the best person to keep me on the straight and narrow re. my life purpose and endure my stories on the long hours on the buses and trains.

I headed to a breakfast meeting with a friend who heads up TED Talks India.  Yes, I am still working.  I’ve a lot of my plate right now including a couple of films and some very exciting projects with WaterAid and KSV.  The meeting that morning was one of my least formal setups.  I’d been travelling for 13 hours, badly in need of a wash and despite it being the executive lounge in Delhi Train station I was sat next to a snoring old Auntie all dressed up in her sari laying out on the sofa and flashing her ankles.  Fair play to Mr G for putting up with me in such a state, a very good meeting, possibly because Mr G is not the sort of Indian to have pens in his shirt pocket.

As I write this I’m sat on a bus waiting in Jammu for a 7 hour trip to Amristar having just got out of a 11 hour bus from Srinigar.  There is a line of beggars outside my bus window, some of the harshest disabilities I've ever seen.  My life right now is amazing and yet people with Leprosy, polio, severe burns are all staring at me with pain knowing that, just my travel budget alone could solve many of their problems.  I work with poverty and face this sort of situation everyday in India and don’t always give.  You cannot, it’s impossible.  However, if you read my last post about my dear friend Roopak in Rishikesh (orphan with polio) you’ll know he’s in a bad place right now.  I was helping him out with living expenses and have plan for a sustainable programme for him and some tourists I gave money to took the money and never gave it to him.   So, I’m asking you.  I'm looking for help with his education for a music school.  He has been attending classes at a famous school in Rishikesh and has been spotted as having amazing potential.  I'd like to get his school fees covered for the next few years at a cost of c.120 euros/year.  I could do this myself but I'd like to setup something with a few people so that potentially we could start a small charity to help kids in similar situations.  This will be 100% transparent as I'm on the ground.  If you would like to help this amazing boy who has been through considerable suffering please email smilingroopak@gmail.com and I'll be in contact directly with more details .  Thank you x

Bodhgaya the land of bliss and Varanisi the kip

Bodgaya and Varanisi:

+ The problem with matching luggage sets when travelling
+ I hang out with a monk in a cave
+ Enlightenment vs. the modern day man 
+ I hang out with a priest on a train (better snacks than the monk in the cave)
+ I hit tourist land in the wrong season...........and yes Varanasi is a KIP
+ Burning obsessions and getting burnt by trusting the wrong tourists 
+ A very bad cocktail of Monkeys and Yoga

After the disappointment of not making Buddha's birthplace (Lumbini, Nepal) due to landslides I was delighted when the train slowed into Gaya station.  I was heading to Bodhgaya to see the area where Buddha was enlightened and was welcomed by 20 rickshaw drivers all wanting to enlighten me with their 'special price'.  I soon found a good deal and we only needed one more person to fill the auto I headed towards the only white person in sight, an older traveller, the first person I'd seen in India with a full luggage set (I'm guessing he was a runner up on a TV game show). He looked lost.  I told him about the deal and he said in his broad deep south US accent "listen boy, I only get rickshaws outside of the station, infact, I normally get a bus".  Good luck mate, I'd got a bargain of a rickshaw and there were no buses.  Two minutes later he was onboard with his matching bags and a sour face.  Immediately the driver started trying his english asking the american questions (in what I thought was pretty good English).  Oldboy's response was "Speak English man I cannot understand a word", it reminded me of Marjorie and Meera in Fat Fighters but this guy was no comedian.  He was a cock.  Still, I was in Bodhgaya so thought of the quote "Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who get burned."  Wise words Buddha.

After the madness of Kolkata I was delighted to be staying in Buddhist monastery.  A friend had got me a room at Schechen monastery, an amazing experience considering they only let a handful of visitors stay there every month.  The most peaceful place I have EVER stayed!

So, enlightenment.  Something I knew very little of before I came to India.  Most of my enlightenment would have previously come from material goods and the closest I got to a spiritual tree would have been.....

I have no interest in an ascetic lifestyle or becoming a monk, I like fine wine and my mulberry wallet too much but there is a balance in today's life and the noble truths from Buddha are a great guide to evaluate what really is important based on how attached we are.  To Buddha enlightenment was truth and inner peace, he found it by doing a number of things but the two most famous are meditating in a cave for 6 years and then sitting under a tree for a week at which point he was enlightened and became Buddha 'the teacher'.  This all happened in Bodhgaya.

I met a 12 year old Buddhist monk called Prince on my arrival and him and his friends showed me round for the day.

Walking across to Sujata

A statue of Buddha in the cave where he lived for 6 years.  It was a pretty special cave and Prince (the little monk!) sang mantras whilst we were in there.  

A Hindu Swarmi walking around the grounds by the Tree of Enlightenment (Bodhi Tree)

And finally the tree (with some monks praying infront of the tree in the photo below). 

Whether you're a Buddhist, spiritual or just a tourist in India this place is a truly uplifting place to visit.  Witnessing a site where someone had such a positive life transformation is something I will remember for a long time.

That evening I was having dinner and who should walk in but Bill Mr matching luggage.  He walked over to me and with a friendly smile said "Hey Chris, great to see you."  He'd previously blanked me so I had a very quick dinner and made my excuses; I saw how he treated locals and had no interest in seeing anymore.  I spent the rest of my time in Bodgaya with a cool american guy called Dan, infact all of a sudden I was meeting more westerners.  This was a good warm up for Varanasi. 

On the train to Varanasi I was sat with a Swarmi (Hindu Monk), a few educated random middle class indians and the two chaps (on the right) who just ate crisps and picked their noses the whole trip.

 

I love these moments as, even after nearly a year in India I haven't a clue what this place is about so we indulged in a debate on women's empowerment in India, charity, religion and tantra.  It was fun ;)

The Lonely Planet introduction to Varanasi reads:

"Brace yourself.  You're about to enter one of the most blindingly colourful, unrelentingly chaotic and unapologetically indiscreet places on earth   Varanasi takes no prisoners.  But if you're ready for it, this may just turn out to be your favourite stop of all"

Sounds pretty special right?  Well, I can save all of those adjectives and just say "Kip".  I'd been warned by so many people of the Varanasi constant hassle and scams but this was the first place I was offered a rickshaw before I even got off the train.  Someone jumped on the train when it was still cruising at 15 mph and whilst he was hanging off the side he spotted my pale skin and shouted "rickshaw". Unbelievable (and yet impressive!).  As for the scams, 90% of the transactions I made in Varanasi involved the wrong change.  My favourite was with friends Adam and Carly after a meal at my hotel when the waiter added 100 rupees to the total without any explanation.

You do the sums.....

If you are a Hindu and get cremated and then laid to rest in the Ganges at Varanasi it is said that you are purified and that your spiritual essence is released.  I reckon that is why everyone in Varanasi is up to sommit dodgy.  

I probably shouldn't give Varanasi such a bad report.   It supposed to be totally different in high season (I'd tried and failed in high season due to the trains being booked..)  Varanasi was flooded and as a result there weren't many tourists.   This was the Dolphin bar, one of the most famous viewpoints along the Ganges... 

Photos of the flooded Ghats....

 

It was here that I met a friendly Spanish couple Jaume and Pat and we spent the afternoon trying to find a Ghat (steps to the Ganges) that wasn't flooded.  Jaume and Pat were heading to Rishikesh and I wanted to get some money to Roopak a kid with polio I've been working with.  I gave them 50 euros and they agreed to deliver to a said point.  That was 2 weeks ago.  They were due to leave India yesterday and I never head from them.   I know having spoken to Roopak that he has had no delivery.  He is an orphan with polio, living in a small room that was flooded in the monsoon.  He's in a bad way and I cannot believe that the corruption of Varanasi got to the Spaniards too.  It makes me sick.  I'll be putting out an ask for Roopak on Facebook soon to get him fixed and in a sustainable project.   I'll also put it up on here so please keep a look out.

Having spent time with the Spaniards I'd been speaking a bit of spanglish and was amazed at how the locals knew the language   Infact they knew every language   If I ever return (and I probably will as I have heard the boat down the Ganges is gorgeous...but impossible during monsoon)  then I'll get myself to a Gaeltacht before heading to lash out some irish at them :)  I did find one technique for avoiding being hassled.  After having "hello friend.....I have a rickshaw/shop/crack cocaine" types latch on to me for the first few days I decided to try and shake them.  They are determined.  Say no in any language  speed up, stop and have lunch......they will STILL be there.  However, if you do a funny dance such as a moonwalk or robot away from them they cannot cope.  This works best on mass, as proven when Adam, Carly and I lost a guy who called himself 'Michael Jackson'.....and wouldn't leave us alone.  He couldn't moonwalk, infact he walked off when we did.  Clearly a fraud.

The one tourist attraction that was still happening was the burning of corpses on the ghats.  It was a very strange obsession with the travellers and one I soon fell pray too myself.  You'd be sharing a chai with someone from Berlin when all of a sudden they'd see a funeral pression go by and run after the corpse with the hope of seeing it being burnt.  I got to see a few bodies being burnt.  The other place that travellers went on mass was to the Blue Lassi cafe.  Infact the Lassis were so good here that you nearly ended up liking Varanisi!

Me with a mixed fruit Lassi......a meal in a cup :)

Owner Shivani.  He works 7 days/week with minimal breaks and produces the best lassi in the world.  LEgend. 

Travel around Varanasi during the monsoon was testing at times and impressive to see how rickshaw drivers coped with the flooding.  My favourite trip was to the University in a bicycle rickshaw where for some reason Adam and I chose an old guy as (my fault) he 'looked the part'.  Only problem was he looked like he should be in a postcard, not like he should be riding a bike, let alone dragging two lads along.  After 5 minutes of him getting very close to a cardiac arrest I told him to swap places and I jumped up and took control.  It was a breeze, cycling through the street smiling at all the locals who just looked shocked at the white guy doing the work. Then something went wrong.  Seems I didn't know his rickshaw as well as him, and there was a reason he hadn't been cycling fast.  He had a broken axle   Within the space of 5 seconds we went from cycling along happily to veering off to the right out of control into another rickshaw.  No-one was hurt and we all had a good laff :)

One of the few things I enjoyed about Varanasi was my hotel.  It was an Indian budget hotel, full of waddling old men wearing string vests, dhotis (men's skirt) and scratching their arses.  It, had, however, a subtle charm (and a cheap price ;) ).  It also had an amazing terrace for me to do yoga on.  Until the last day.  After my last yoga practice I looked over the edge of the building and met eyes with a monkey.  I probably looked for just a little too long but within 10 seconds there were +5 monkeys on the roof all in attack mode with their arms in the air. I've worked with monkeys in the wild but this was like a scene out of Rise of the Planet of the Apes.  I bricked it and got behind a door just in time before they reached it and started banging.   The staff came up in numbers with big bats and scared them off but when I went down to my room they were outside my window.  I was glad to leave Varanasi!

Here's a picture of a more docile animal friend greeting Adam and I at a local restaurant....

Next stop RAJASTHAN... 

Flack is Back

I flew back to India via Kolkata based on the price of the flight.  250 euros to Delhi or 50 euros to Kolkata. Barjain.  I'd never been and I fancied seeing a bit of the east,  I shoudda remembered that classic Irish phrase 'da west is best'.  I'd heard, however, that Kolkata was all about 'the arts' so let's see what I found:

• Coconuts and Athletes foot
• I take the local lovers on a ride
• 'Danny Boy' Indian Style
• Barbie and Ken Missionary Style

I nearly didn't come back to India.  Thailand was such a blissful holiday, I'd met a great gang and was tempted to not leave.  Plus the fact that whilst I was away from India I'd read 'Mother India' by Katherine Mayo which had given me a dose of indophobia.  Something which was encouraged further this week by the sickening verdict that the Indian Supreme Court gave on the Gang Rape case from last December.   'Mother India' is a book I urge anyone visiting India to read (especially those who see India as a spiritual haven with all it's pretty hindu gods). The country is beautiful and full of very special people but nearly 100 years on since the book was published this week's verdict echos the fact that India still has major culture issues when it comes to women's empowerment. 

I encountered Indian culture before I even got on the plane.  This was the site at check in.

About 30 Indian men had bought c.5 massive LCD screens each and were pushing women, children and me out of the way to get to the front of the queue.   Ah, Indian queuing.  I've gotta get my sharp elbows back on form! The plane was similar. The flight left at 1am and the lights went out but all the Indian chaps carried on talking (shouting) at each other, burping, picking their noses and generally being a nuisance.  I might have been travelling for 20 hours but it was impossible to sleep, I spoke to a western neighbour who was landing in India for the first time and was in complete shock before they'd even got off the plane!

Before I knew it I was sat in the back of my favourite car in India.  The legendary Ambassador.  10 minutes into the taxi journey the beast of a car gave a big hiccup then stalled.  The driver spent 1/2 an hour banging the engine with his fist and cursing one of his many gods before giving up and calling a mate.

5 minutes later I switched taxi and was soon at my hotel.

Gypsy Guest House.  Appropriate.  After 24 hours of boats, planes, buses, and taxis I arrived at 4am and was shown a room that was smaller than Harry Potter's at The Dursleys.  I couldn't stand up or walk down the side of the bed let alone roll out my yoga mat.  24 hours earlier I'd said goodbye to a bungalow 30 seconds walk to clear blue sea.  Ouch.  

After a few hours sleep I didn't care I was BACK IN INDIA and the buzz was amazing. I knew I was back in India when within the first few hours I'd overdosed on coconuts, got an electric shock, had a few random people take photos of you on their mobile, joined in a game of street cricket and could feel the itch of a foot infection (note to self don't wear flip flops during monsoon).

I also got the cheapest shave and beard trim I've ever encoutered.  7RS (about 10cents) by this guy:

It reminded me why historically Indians are quite hairy.  Note in the photo how high his blade is.  Unless you carefully instruct them, the local barbers will happily shave your whole face (inc ears).  My hindi is shite so expect me to come home looking like this (not an uncommon site here).

I had hoped to catch up on some work in Kolkata but owing to the local internet cafe having PCs from the 1980s and a serious rodent problem that didn't happen for a few days.  So I chose instead to fill my days as a tourist.  In search for a bit of green in the busiest city I have been to in India I came across Millennium Park.  For 5RS (7 cents) you got access to a peaceful park by the river.  I felt unique there, not because I was the only westerner but because I was the only person not smooching in a couple.  It was quite sweet, seeing all this love which is never expressed out in the open normally.  The park also had old children's fairground rides, an odd mix of romance and rusty old rides suited to a horror film.  Here is one of the fairground attendants looking sharp:

All the rides were empty and I decided I wanted to try a few photos of a dragon train.  I paid my 10RS and was just about to start taking some shots when the whole park got up and walked across to join me on the ride.  Seems my pale skin had a bit of influence!

My hotel situation improved once I coughed up a few more rupees, however, as the place was so busy I had to change room every night and soon got used to Indian hotel culture of the staff just walking immediately after knocking.  Bless them, interrupting a sweaty Flack doing yoga in his underpants soon made them stop that.

I spent a lot of time wondering the streets, getting lost and just breathing in the city.  One of my fav photos was aptly captioned 'Reality TV' when I posted it on FB by Ms Burke of Galway.

This was sadly the reality of Kolkata.  Nowhere in India had I seen so many lines of people sleeping on the street and beggars persistently pulling on my trousers to get my attention.  Even in my hotel and restaurants the staff asked directly for a tip, no pause and smile after presenting change, just the strongly emphasised "Tip".

Here's a few of my fav photos from my stay:

The ever industrious Rickshaw driver

A dogs life

This was a street show put on by a family.  Quite entertaining from a distance .......

However, up close you could see that these kids should not have been made to do this..

One of the less confrontational beggars

I was invited to a theatre festival by a friend who lived in Kolkata.  It was monologue theatre performance at one of Kolkatas coolest nightspots, a bar called 'Tantra' on Park Street.  What are the odds of me ending up at a club called Tantra ;)  This was one of the strangest gigs I have ever been to; full of Kolkata's refined middle and upper class peops including a few bollywood stars.  Owing to the majority of the acts being in Bengali, my favourite part of the show was the break in which we were plied with amazing Indian cuisine.  The best paneer I have ever had, despite the designer suit elbows pushing infront of me.  The second half was quite a treat, an Indian singer who's voice was up there with Katie Melua but was singing songs as if on the end of Blackpool pier.  She ended with an encore of 'Danny Boy' which with an Indian accent which as a song about the sorrow of leaving a country made me want to .......leave the country.

The next day we headed to Kalighat temple.  Bengal's favourite hindu deity is the dark incarnation of Shiva's wife (Kali).  Kali is often represented in pictures with her four arms covered in blood standing on her husband Shiva.  At first glance, it appears odd that anyone would want to worship this tantric goddess but the real focus is on the destruction of evil to make way for good.  Her temples are outstanding:

Dakshineshwar Kali temple where we joined in the Bhajan :)

On the way back from Dakshinesh  I heard my name across a busy street.  I saw Mohasin Khan, one of the most famous Sitar players in the world walking across the road waving.  I'd met him whilst working at KSV in Karnataka.   In a country of +1.2bn people that was quite a surprise.  Here's a video of the Khan family in concert (Mohasin is bottom left):

Monsoon season was still in full swing in Kolkata.  The city has a reputation for major flooding and it was pretty bad whilst I was there but I cannot imagine what it's like for the people sleeping on the street.  The worst that happened to me was Athletes foot and continuous pocking in the eye by umbrellas owing to the fact that I was the tallest person on most pavements.

Monsoon time!

On my last day in Kolkata I ventured around the stunning Victoria memorial gardens. A little bit of bliss in the madness of the city and the monument is a stunning mixture of British and Mogul architecture with a statue of a rather tubby Queen Vic out the front.

I then went somewhere very special.  Mother Teresa's House.

When it comes to museums I hadn't been this moved emotionally since The Ghandi museum in Delhi.  Mother Teresa was a truly remarkable woman who made a serious impact on reducing poverty around the world.  Her tomb is there as is a museum and hundreds of little nuns running around still keeping the place running.  It's truly inspiring although part of her history is illustrated using Ken and Barbie dolls.  This is her telling her parents she was going to be a missionary (whilst dress as 'Barbie the fairy').

That night I was on a night train to Gaya to see the tree of enlightenment at Bodhgaya.  I love travelling on Indian trains and was excited to be back in the buzz of an Indian city railway station.  I was, however, taken aback by the treatment of the lower castes who were trying to get on to the general class on my train.  They were hit with a baton by a railway officer just for trying to get on a train without a ticket.  Bad form.  The train journey itself was a dream, despite the pneumatic drill which seemed to be stuck in the ventilation shaft all night I slept like a baby and the next morning woke up in Bihar where I hung out with a monk in a cave......coming soon :)