Mumbai and Home!

When in India "expect the unexpected" and Mumbai is no different.

Lots of traffic but shock horror it is all going in straight lines and obeying the traffic lights and no beeping horns. Loads of people but walking on real pavements and no time or inclination to stare AND NOT A COW TO BE SEEN!!!!!

The stories of boom time are true. Still masses of slum poverty but gilded with economic progress.

However this is still India - at the end of a couple of lazy days wandering around Mumbai's a street hawker taps me on the shoulder and tells me "you have very dirty ears sir!" excuse me? " I do very good clean job for you"!!!

Is there any where else in the world with an personal ear cleaning service?

This has been a fantastic holiday on lots of different levels but we are all glad to be going home.

It might be a few years but we will be back !

Pilgrimage into the Gujarat

So from Mt Abu it feels like our tourist trail ends and a mini family pilgrimage begins. Our entry into the Gujarat was not without frustration – the state border bureaucrats didn't know quite how to deal with the toll for an eleven seater minibus so after an hour of discussion and a multitude of phone calls from the 10 people in the tiny toll office an appropriate tax was decided and our details entered by hand with exquisite care into one of a small mountain of dusty red log books, several other triplicate forms are completed and the toll exchanged not without Ba trying to negotiate a discount for the delay!

After a great night's sleep in a "proper" hotel, you know TV, Wi-Fi, room service, the day begins with a laugh. I open the my hotel room door to the laundry man who freezes for a moment as he enters the room then gives me a smirk as he spots my illegal Indian rent boy languishing half asleep in bed - to try and innocently explain that this was actually my son and that my wife and other two children were next door was just too much to explain at 6.30am!

So as we headed towards Ba and Dada's villages, Bhadran and Dharmaj, my thoughts turned to how they must be feeling as their first and probably last opportunity to come to their childhood home with their grandchildren. How can the significance of agonizing decisions made by grandparents and great grandparents to seek a life far apart from family but with greater opportunity be impressed on our children? Is there any point? Or should I shut up for once and allow time and maturity to allow them to make their personal reflections rather than impress my sentiments upon them? Don't be daft I will lecture as always - it is a fathers job to expound his opinions on his children and a child's job to tell him what a "jake" he is!

Having visited Bhadran and Dharmaj before it was great to have the context of Ba and Dada's explanation of some of the finer detail. Funny for the kids to see the upstairs window Dada and his four brothers used to pee out of during the night, funny for us all to hear how much Ba hated India preferring her adopted Kenya and for them both to boast that unlike most arranged marriages they got to speak to each other for "more than half an hour" before they agreed to their wedding. The kids were a little bemused, moaning about having to visit elderly relatives (surprise surprise!) but held by their grandparent's enthusiasm.

After a long day we drove due west to Rajkot into an immense colour of evening sun - an appropriate end to a poignant day. That vivid colour was however a warning of the approach of another bustling city and as we hit the usual chaos of bodies and traffic it filled me with a little dread that having left the relative peace of a lush countryside we were going to end on an urban downer. Despite a mosquito infested sleep the warm welcome from Tina's "other Mum and Dad" and after a fantastic breakfast of "real" Indian food any negativity was soon lifted. We spent the day being taken around the city and how much more appealing an ordinary city can look through the eyes of the people who live there taking us to see real places away from the usual tourist ambushes. An hour spent walking around a local market turned out to be one of the highlights of the entire trip which I have to say in retrospect, but admittedly out of necessity, may have been a little too sanitised.

Bombay and, sadly, the final leg home.

OK so Kim who has been looking over my shoulder has just judged me as being a wanabee writer who just isn't quite making it – how the truth hurts!!!!!

Diarrhoea of the verbal variety.

Happy New Year!

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ANYONE WHO MIGHT BE OUT THERE FROM THE BIG PARTY IN BOOZE FREE GUJARAT WATCHING THE TELLY!!

Udaipur to Mount Abu

It's my turn again. So having happily allowed my family to hijack my blog two things have upset me.

1 – out of all the photos I have posted on FLICKR the one that has been picked out by a stranger as "outstanding" was one of Tina's – TYPICAL! When will the world (not just my big sister) realise just how talented I am?

2 – my children's afluenza continues to infect their view on this little adventure and is keeping it on a rather negative note which does not appear to be swayed by my constant lectures on positive thinking and reassurance that one day they will indeed thank us for taking them out of their far too comfortable zone.

One thing that overshadows any negativity is the fact that despite the fact I am the only one of the party who doesn't have a single Indian gene, I am the only one that hasn't suffered the ubiquitous Indian traveller's watery bottom. SMUG?! It may only be a matter of time. There was a close call in Udaipur where I thought there was going to be another one of my infamous outdoor toileting stories but this time off the back of a tourist boat with the pristine white of the Lake Palace Hotel as a back drop. Fortunately despite the waves of desire of faecal release I bravely hung on to my pride as well as my load!

So Udaipur was amazing. Out hotel room overlooked the "Lake Palace" made famous by 007, another Indian site outstripped in real life by any image. Watching the lake and palace change colour through sunset and then sunrise from our bedroom window was just the best.

Our dusty 6 hour drive out of the grey atmosphere of the Rajasthani plains into the relative clarity of Mount Abu was as entertaining as always with the road randomly alternating between half constructed 4 lane motorway to single track road with the usual assortment of vehicles of diesel belching trucks, buffalo drawn wooden wheeled carts and camels ridden by extras from Lawrence of Arabia. Touched by the grin of a 4 year old dusty son of a roadside "Chi Wala" as he takes an apple offered by Tina's mum and holds on to it with a prized expression, the apple becoming an exaggerated red in his hands.

A final one and a half hour gut wrenching 5000ft climb sees us reach our next destination. A petrol stop in Mount Abu makes me laugh as I spot a stall across the road with a massive sign extolling the virtues of Haig's Scotch Whiskey an unexpected Indian shrine to the sale of our national drink. Our hotel is not quite the 5* luxury enclave we have been spoiled with recently but I for one am pleased to be getting a little more authenticity into our trip and greatly enjoy that there is not much to do here except enjoy the clear air and cool temperatures. The kids once they got over that there was no free Wi-Fi connection to the internet settled into some more wholesome entertainment like a simple game of cards in the sun on the lawn with our Punjabi driver Ram Singh. OK so it's not authentic at all because during the game of cards I feel like I'm part of the great British Raj as we are being shadowed by the ever attendant and attentive staff serving us hand and foot.

As we set off on our morning tour with our local (completely toothless!) guide in our bus adorned with Hindu gods, a DVD blasting Hindu devotional songs and taken to a multitude of Hindu and Jain temples that it strikes me that back home the Christian equivalent would be making me little nervous that I was being kidnapped by some crazy "happy clappy" sect intent on converting my godless beliefs. Indian society, young and old, rich and poor is totally pervaded and infused with its seemingly infinite number of religious beliefs – there are at least 330 million different Hindu Gods alone and it leaves me both impressed and mystified.

The day is rounded off by taking up the suggestion of the guide to visit "Sunset Point" to, surprisingly, see the sunset. This sets off visions of a family moment in a remote and secluded spot to enjoy the spiritual purity of the setting a glorious Indian Sun. The brakes of the bus brings my imagination to a rather abrupt reality check THIS IS INDIA!!!!! Our family moment was to be shared by 10,000 others all heading for the same spot en masse in usual Indian style either on foot or horseback or uniquely to Mt Abu on glorified baggage trolleys made all the more hilarious because invariably the baggage are the horizontally challenged more affluent Indian middle class and the handlers are the skin and bone of the not so affluent. So as we all jostle for position and photograph wild monkeys feeding on street food shared by the crowd, I slowly realise that I'm the only "whitey" present and I too become part of the entertainment complying to polite requests of photos with random familly groups but to offers of a share of the same fantastic street food, fears of toilet terror tempers my appetite. As the sunset comes we are greatly amused by our guide who insists on an unnecessary running commentary "first it vill be yellow and den it vill be orange and den it vill be red and den it vill be finish" very difficult to stiffle a giggle into a polite smile. Of course no one mentions that this phenomenon is made all the more vivid by the pollution rising from the valley bellow but who cares, the anarchy makes its way back down to the town and we are off to eat and to bed.

Tina's Thoughts

Having such an amazing time in India. So full of contradictions, from its wealthy grandeur, to its appalling poverty, and the calmness and serenity of the people to its shambolic and chaotic streets. As our tour guide said, there is only ONE rule on the roads and that is “there are NO rules”! You truly have to experience it to know it and wonder at the fact that it actually functions, and well at that! Very few minor accidents were witnessed, though our hearts are frequently in our mouths on a daily basis at our seemingly near misses. You could put our driver in our minivan on a formula 1 circuit and Lewis Hamilton would have no chance!

It’s a real rollercoaster of emotions here- truly stunning sights, noise, smell, lack of personal space, annoying persistence of hawkers, constantly being ripped off, long and arduous journeys, beautiful guilt instilling hotels, daily sounds of my family’s expulsive diarrhoea in the bathroom (sorry, too much information!) and all with a constant sound track of Kiran being “sick of it” (not YET literally) and Carla weeping and wishing she was back in her beloved Milngavie!

Having expected a spiritual journey here with Mum, Dad, Gordon and the kids, it’s fast turning out to be like a chapter from Gerald Durrell’s book “ My Family and other animals”. UNFORGETTABLE was Kiran’s appalled face when a splat of ejected snotter from a “native” landed on his jeans! Also Kim’s revulsion at finding some “brown, smelly stuff” on her sandals after emerging from a hole in the ground toilet! And Carla’s vomiting into a napkin at breakfast and down my arm in a crowded room whilst trying to manoeuvre her to the nearest toilet to minimise her trail of vomit!

The kids are still managing to have a laugh and giggle at each other’s misfortunes, and together, listening to my parents inappropriately burping and farting their way around India! as well as their oddities and endearing nature. Gordon, as hardy as ever, is leading and organising us through it all, untouched by illness and optimistic as ever-obsessing only over his precious laptop. I feel completely liberated and alive with all this surrounding chaos. All that is left of my OCD ways is my daily underwear count and an irrational fear of running out!

Travelling in India:
· A sense of adventure- NECESSARY
· Paracetamol- ESSENTIAL
· Sharing this experience with my family-PRICELESS!!!



Calling on all family and friends- please take at least a few minutes out of your busy lives (working,ironing,hovering,cleaning etc etc etc) to write and tell me what you are doing-I am missing your news and contact and am dying to hear of a world of order and routine(and that includes the chaotic Warners!)

India from Carla

The Bad Things About India!!!

What I feel about india is it's kind of the opposite of milngavie.It's really smelly, India has millions of people, lots of cars, the people in the cars don't let u cross the road and they don't drive in nice straight lines like other nice countrys, it looks really squiggly and they beeb their horns all the time.Say if u were just about sleeping there would always be somthing that would stop u from sleeping or if u got 2 sleep it would be very uncomfortable.The journeys r the worst though coz they are really long and boring as well.

The Things I Liked About India...

There are some good things about India too .India's "the country of art".Well I liked the elephant ride we all did, it was scary but fun, I liked seeing the Taj Mahal, I liked all the temples, mosques, animals and the things I got. I am surprised that there are many good things here.

"I'M SICK OF IT!!!!!"

Well what can I say? This is a good day to write a blog on as today had ups and downs. From the luxury of our comfortable hotel to nearly being killed on the roads of Jodhpur.

Well it started off brilliantly because after breakfast Carla and Kim were “ill”. So, we got to stay in the hotel for the morning. Dad was the lucky one and got to stay behind with us. The rest of them went to city tour of Jodhpur. I’m more than glad I missed that one. All we did was just sit and watch TV and eventually got into the swimming pool that was, to say the least, baltic.
They arrived back at about twelve and we HAD to go out in the afternoon to see the Bishnoi people while Carla and mum stayed at home (lucky).

Believe me, I usually say a lot of things are rubbish... but this particular afternoon was one of the dullest experiences I have ever had.To start off this adventure, the guy who was meant to be driving us to this village was late. Good start I hear you say? When dad said it was going to be a jeep, I was expecting a big, strong looking vehicle. It wasn’t. It resembled a motorised Rickshaw but was slightly bigger and had four wheels. We got on it and to add to the already abysmal start Dad and I had to bend our heads down it was too small. Many people would have turned back, but we didn’t!!! We went courageously over the worst roads, with dust flying and smog in the air. We eventually got to the holy place of the Bishnoi people. I usually am against “dissing” other people’s religion or religious buildings, however this was basically a really worn down shack with an empty swimming pool beside it. I still don’t know what it was. The guide (whom I also could not understand due to his thick accent and lisp) probably told us but I was too busy in wonder of how this place was holy. There was also a concrete block with sand underneath it that is said to be holy. The guide also told us some very important information that if we were to plant a seed and put it in the sand, under this concrete block, it wouldn’t grow. There were many more vital pieces of information to follow after this!!!Well we had a horrible start, however a slight interest hit me (shock horror) when we visited the house of a Bishnoi family, until the guide started to waffle on about food and seeds. Undoubtedly the highlight of the whole day came when a Bishnoi man pulled out a plastic bag and offered us opium. Before I had the chance to answer, it was quickly rejected by Dad.

Soon after, I was starting to be cheery as I thought we were going back to the hotel but they were short-lived as we had to go see some craftsmen. The first one was a potter. It was pretty amazing how quick and accurate the guy could make a few objects out of a big, unattractive lump of clay. Kim, being as she is, quickly accepted the chance to make something and was unsurprisingly good at it and me being as I am rejected the offer and after got it in the neck from the grandparents. At that point I really can say I was getting sick of it. We also saw a weaver and some printer man. I’m not going to write about them as I have made enough negative comments on just about everything, but I reckon you get the point.

To round the tour off we spent 30 minutes in the freezing cold, inhaling vast amounts of dust. We were also nearly killed about 450 times because of the crazy driving. I cannot grasp why there is no road rules followed by the Indian people. It’s brilliant to watch... not so great to be in.

The very end of the day was great: a filling dinner and watching television in an air conditioned room!