Sunday, 30 December 2012

packed and ready and still 48 hrs till take off

I have 8 pairs of trousers in my tiny back pack. Is this really necessary? This is how fashion manipulates my mind despite itself. I suspect that, once in India, the illusion that these are essential will dissolve and I shall feel a twit as my bag is too heavy. I notice I have had to recheck the number of pairs 3 times now as I started thinking I had 3 pairs, one for the journey. That seemed reasonable till I remembered the track suit bottoms, the light weight white linen trousers for use in southern hot India, the two pairs of salwar kameez pants I put in for fancy evening wear and the red cotton pants for running on the beach.
I can already see this is ridiculous, just helps to spell it out, so back to the bag.....

Thursday, 27 December 2012

one more work day to go..

Only four more wet days to go, one more work day only. Then packing. I am taking a truck full of liquor, food, presents and clothes, so quite a feat to get it all into one one bag. I am so excited, so fed up of the rain. Feeling increasingly low about the weather here in Frome as each morning I wake to more grey clouds and the splattering of rain. It may be this new house that is high on a hill and has views beyond the drab 1970s terrace opposite and the distant green blaze of ASDA, over the countryside to the south of Frome. In clear morning sunshine it is uplifting, but in the grim grey grind of these past few months I have struggled to stay appreciative of the better light and the clearer air.
Frome could well be the wettest place on earth.
On a more positive note invitations for eating with friends have filled every evening between now and our departure and it is a treat to know such warm hearted and generous people and to have the time and this great excuse to get together with as many as possible. Handy too as we have little food left. I was going to reduce freezer stock further and I am down to a bottle of buttermilk, some scary looking flat bread and a bag of Ikea meat balls. Ben has his Christmas food parcel which was meant to get him started in Barcelona but looks like it may keep him alive in Frome till he goes.

Thursday, 20 December 2012

India 2013 the few days before .....



One of the many reasons for going away to India this winter is to get some time to write. I have been saying I am going to now for at least a year. I enjoy writing and I need practice. I am hoping that a combination of having some time out,  a small lap top and being in a vibrant colourful landscape will fuel something more interesting than home musings. It may be useful to get some sort of a framework to write within - not so much a diary as maybe observations of the mind, the workings and ponderings of a mind free to roam in India. I am to be 53 years old tomorrow, its my birthday.



I was in India almost exactly 3 years ago on my 50th birthday, with my children in a beautiful hotel in Bandhavghar National Park. We had some adventures at that hotel. We managed to make friends with a Goan who was keen to help us break out from the clutches of his over protective manager. This manager warned us that we would get into dreadful trouble should we venture out from the hotel site alone, particularly were we to go to the evenings village performance of the Ramayana. The villages were dangerous - according to him and thats if we were to survive the man eating wildlife en route from the hotel to the village!

Our Goan friend suggested the manager was himself fearful of the village people , may be some history there.
There might be an animal or two but he would come and protect us anyway.
We had a lovely evening slightly spiced up by the exciting potential of being attacked by animals and villagers. All villagers were totally absorbed in their show and seemed delighted that we were interested too - it was a superb all night long performance and we watched a very short 30 minutes, more interested in the local people than the drama unfolding on stage. We saw no animals on the walk to the show or on the way home again but I was thankful for the Goan as we were in the jungle and we were going out to find tigers the next day.
Over the next few days the Goan proved to be slightly barmy and ended up being sacked or leaving and I got a serious telling off from patriachal manager. Goan missed his mother in Goa I think- I reminded him of her AND her birthday was the day before mine - so was probably wanting to go home anyway. The kids loved the drama, being woken at dawn on my birthday to the Goan almost in tears banging on our door- wanting written proof that we had made him take us to the village. He gave me lovely tiger T shirt and a card, which I have kept!

We saw tigers too - 2 in one sweep of a jeep and a third the same day - then no more although we kept going back for more tries, with Pradeep a perfectly gorgeous guide. He was charming and we all fell in love with him- he knew everything about the wildlife and all the trees and plants and he was very excited that I wanted to know so much - I don't think he quite believed me when I said I wanted to know all the trees and all the plant names and as much as he knew about the land. He was amazing and one of the loveliest people I have met - we tried to keep in touch but texts, phones didn't work for some reason - the kids had taken his number from him but we were unsure if it was his phone really. We asked to have him every day for our guide but same manager did us out of that too for some bazaar reason. I did not work out how to manage him at all. I asked politely but offered no baksheesh was that it? Probably - but at this stage he could have been working on a tip - maybe I should have splashed the cash at first signs of resistance. To get our Pradeep it would have been worth it in retrospect. I hope he is well, happy and as appreciated as he should be - we won't forget him for sure.
Lauren and Ben with Pradeep

Or the tigers - what an excitement to see such creatures in the jungle.

There is no place like the Indian jungle. It could be the Kipling stories from my childhood - back then I could smell the mongoose and have such vivid images of that brave little beast, Ricki-ticki-tavi with a huge snake egg in its mouth - scampering away from the cobras nest in his garden - never far from the steaming jungle - this was sat in my class room absorbed as my teacher read us the stories, transported to an exotic and compelling land where 12 ft snakes climbed up drain pipes to wreak havoc in lives of small children in their bath.

There is nothing quite like the magical silence of the jungle. You do a lot of listening whilst looking for tigers. There are sound signs that there is one in the area and the guides teach you to listen well to these - these big predators cause terror as they soft foot around the undergrowth. Smaller animals let out warning cries so we tracked the tigers by following these cries. We follow pug marks and scats too - all very exciting - even if you don't ever see a tiger, there are other cats - we saw a Caracal - which caused the guide much more excitement than the tigers - very beautiful and extraordinary cat, many birds, roosting owls, insects, deer,
roosting owl


and the trees!  and I haven't even left for India yet!


That one was a bit ferocious, we heard its awesome snarl and realised we were close to a seriously scary cat that could kill us with a sweep of a furry paw. Our guides were gambling with our lives - such a treat to be so close though,  breathtaking beauty.