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Thursday, June 18, 2009
Home to Edinburgh and Roundhouse woodsheds
So, just a very brief quicky which I will update in the next few days or so. Am back from Thailand to the Uk and building the woodshed at Lothlorien I said I always would. -714897.JPG)
Its a long story but without my bike I couldnt really make any more sense of going any further, at least for now. So Im currently building a traditional roundhouse woodshed with a reciprocal frame turf roof and living back in Edinburgh. Will post pictures of the build soon. All the best to all. Jonny-757892.JPG)
So, just a very brief quicky which I will update in the next few days or so. Am back from Thailand to the Uk and building the woodshed at Lothlorien I said I always would. Its a long story but without my bike I couldnt really make any more sense of going any further, at least for now. So Im currently building a traditional roundhouse woodshed with a reciprocal frame turf roof and living back in Edinburgh. Will post pictures of the build soon. All the best to all. Jonny
-714900.JPG)
Its a long story but without my bike I couldnt really make any more sense of going any further, at least for now. So Im currently building a traditional roundhouse woodshed with a reciprocal frame turf roof and living back in Edinburgh. Will post pictures of the build soon. All the best to all. Jonny★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Thursday, June 18, 2009 1:22 AM
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Bankok to Ko Phangan
While waiting to leave India behind at the airport in Goa my flight was delayed by almost 5 hours due to th-748548.jpg)
ick fog in Delhi. Well, this was a problem, in so much that my connecting flight left for Bangkok at midnight and my internal domestic flight wasnt really going to make it in time. A few quick words to the airport staff and Im quickly shifted onto another companies plane and flown to Delhi just in time to catch my flight to Bangkok. Nice, I really hadnt expected that at all and I caught my Indian airlines flight to Bangkok without any drama. The aircraft looked like it had seen better days though, put it this way, I remember flying on these types of planes in my youth, it still had the illuminated smoking signs and seat belt lights above the seats and certainly no games console in the seat infront, but then this is government owned Indian Airlines and to be honest if the planes are run anything like the rest of the country Im suprised it got off the ground at all. But all we-718683.jpg)
nt without a hitch. People had warned me about flying Indian Airlines and I can kind of see why, but its cheap and do you really need backgammon in headrest console for an extra 100 quid?
When I arrived in Bangkok I remember my first recollections being ones of shock and suprise as I drove by taxi along plush streets and smooth roads to the city. I came here 20 years ago and remember a city of smog, slums and chaos, potholed roads that kind of thing. Now its ordered and clean the roads are smooth freeways and you can find everything and anything from a quality multiplex cinema with every concievable luxury, gucci and prada shopping malls to the chinese old town market complete with squalking chickens and all the chaos you could ever need. The streets are cleaned-748637.jpg)
each night and the traffic is orderely, or perhaps this is just because Ive come from India I dont know. But in many ways I felt I'd stepped back into a very civilised and ordered society, and that came as a some relief after all the hecticness of the last few months in India. Above the streets theres the luxury sky train that buzzes overhead reducing the congestion in the Sois and roads.
all this aside theres also the seedier side to bangkok too. I walked down Patpong to see shady western characters with heads hung low, escorted by young boys and young girls, offensive and unpleasant to say the least, and so they should hang theie heads....one walk down the road was enough distaste for me. Its like a sex supermarket, all catered for and off the shelf. I see overweight, middle aged, unnattractive westerners with beautiful young Thai girls on their arms around 
almost every corner. I dont really know what to make about this about this other than is a buisness agreement, the man gets a beautiful wife the girl gets financial freedom, not the best way to enter into marriage, yet some would argue that thats all it is, but what about connection love and spirit. I see these guys almost everywhere I go, in varying guises, but almost all have a strange energy, almost all have a nervy energy as if they can feel the wondering thoughts and intent of peoples stares. This cant possibly a happy way to live, unless youre switched off.
Aside from-746280.jpg)
all this I liked Bangkok. I liked the buzz and the fashion and the kids with all their funny pointy shoes and funky haircuts, sort of an Asian western crossover. So much change from India. I liked the thrill of riding places on the river taxis and scooting over the city in the skytrain. I wanderd the flower markets and fruit markets taking photos, ate fish with a stray cat off a stall in Chinatown, saw the golden reclining Buddha. I slept in a flea pit on Khosan Rd and then a beautiful teak wood house by the river, so quiet and serene, two very different places. Partied with the locals till 5 in the morning at new year at Khoasan Rd and drank far too much Chang and whiskey buckets with musicians (yes over here you can get whiskey and coke in a small bucket, classy!!) all resulting in a two day hangover, but much fun. appaerntly they put amonia in the chang to speed up the brewing process...hmmhhh nice! Yes I liked Bangkok, didnt much like the touristy areas with the usual suspects around the Khosan area but generally it was good to have a little order and fun after India and to cut l-746387.jpg)
oose for a while.
So I stayed in Bangkok for about a week, from here its easy to get your bearings and make plans for most of all the things you could think of wanting to do in South east Asia. And with a little thought I decide to head out to Koh Tao a small island in the gulf of Thailand renouned for cheap dive courses. I'd thought about travelling up to Vietnam-721584.jpg)
and Laos but to be honest right now Im feeling tired of moving without a real purpose, and without my bike this feeling is certainly amplified. I started to feel this way in Agonda and now I know I need to stop for a while and do something active and constructive, rather than simply moving, I need to be learning something for a while that I can constructively use later. Kind of like a lifestyle change in a way, rather than as some might argue a mini mid life crisis! But When I look back Ive been moving now for nearly 8 months and I know Im tired and need a rest and to get some real direction back and as such just drifting from place to place seems a little hollow just now.
So I stayed on Koh Tao for about a week, looked at the dive sites and began weighing up the idea of either taking a kitsurfing course or a dive course, with the eventual idea of maybe trying to learn to be an instructor in the future. Koh Tao is a strange little island, very very beautiful and not so developed there are still places where you can get away from it all in a simple shack by the sea, but the main beaches are mostly dotted with dive shops, bars and shacks, but generally its low key and a gentle atmosphere, livings not as cheap as elsewhere but you can get a shack near the beach for about £6. Eating in Thai local restaurants kept the cost downto about £15. Mostly its a 20'somethings paradise for cheap dive courses or stopping off point for the Ko Phang-721631.jpg)
an full moon party. I noticed the island evacuate when the moons full and the vibe of was much quieter when they'd dissappeared.
After a week or so on Koh Tao I decided I try my arm at Kitesurfing as I'd learnt about a kitesurf school on Ko Phangan and thats where I am now after the most insane catamaran ride of my life to the island. 4-5 metre swell, crazy seas, everyone was the pastiest shade of green white Ive seen by the end, even I felt preety sick and I dont really get sea sick. Once I got here I met Pascal the instructore, well what a life he's led, working all over the world as a construction engineer, running bars, involved with the Mafia in China, and so on. A little Belgian guy, when you walk in is office in the morning at 9.30 he has a large coffee, a huge rollup, and a can of Singa, bags under his etes like avalnches, and this setup continues for most of the day. He's quite a character, lives here now, with his Thai wife and child, but I'd say the alchohol has got a firm grip of him, such is life. Ive signed up at the Kitesurf school and am one lesson down. Its so incredibbly tricky to master, but if Im honest I think I could teach myself without the lessons and the lessons are expensive £200 and then the kit to buy is another grand. However right now the wind is poor and Im not getting out so, I think Im going to leave it till february and head back to Koh Tao to do my dive certificates. Its a real toss up between diving and kiteing right now and Im not sure which way it will go. We'll just have to see. Back to Koh Tao after a quick visa run to Panang in Malaysia.
Ko Phangan...hmmmh, well I came here 20 years ago when the the roads were like dried up river beds, the only way round the island was by motorcross bike or 4x4, the jetty was wooden and when you arrived a few people were stood waiting for you to take you to the simple wooden shacks dotted around the island. And now, a full concrete terminal for the ferries, a bui-748221.jpg)
lt up main town of banks and shops and places renting cars and bikes, the usual toursits fair. Out of town, streets lined with Girly bars, mechanics garages, tattoo parlours, fully paved wide roads for most of the island, you get the idea, much much change.
So after one night in the main town near the surf shop and a terrible nights sleep after banging Karaoke and girly bar noise I hired myself a little 225 Yamaha Serrow motorcross bike and headed out to the east side of the island, where the roads are still mud tracks and there are few beer drinking tourists. And to my luck this is where I found Than Sadet a beautiful little bay, with only 2 or three sets of shacks on the beach or on stilts, and electricity thats only on from 6 till12 by an old clanky generator on the top of the cliff. My shack has holes in the floorboards, shutters on the windows, resident bugs and lizards and faded blue paint. Ive -775928.jpg)
a porch and rickety balcony that looks out over the ocean way way up on the cliff and a hammock that swings low across the porch and looks out to sea. Its wonderful, its not everyones idea of heaven but its mine. I can swim, fish, read do Chi Gong, not be hassled too much. I have beautiful gardens around me as the owners Wow And her Daughter Wee look after the place as home and they live here. Everywhere you look theres a chaos of plants, pots, fountains, ponds and most of the folk are longtermers living up the rocks from me in more shacks and most people here seem to come each year. Theres a nervy Chef from the grassmarket in Edinburgh, a self made sydney nightclub manager who went to school at rugby just taking time out from it all, a french musician, a german divemaster and ex superbikes rider, all good folk. I have my motorcross bike that gets me round the islands tretcherous mud roads, and allows me to cart supplies back and forward. Its certainly much fun riding t-740951.jpg)
he roads, back wheel out round the corners, foot out that kind of stuff, certainly wakes you up in the mornings.
So Im planning on heading out to Koh Tao in the next few days and then to Penang in malaysia and back to renew my visa, find some cheap accomodation and diving and I'll be set for the next few weeks. Then maybe come back to Ko Phangan when the winds are back up to start the kitesurfing again.
So until next time many blessings and love. Jonny
-748562.jpg)
ick fog in Delhi. Well, this was a problem, in so much that my connecting flight left for Bangkok at midnight and my internal domestic flight wasnt really going to make it in time. A few quick words to the airport staff and Im quickly shifted onto another companies plane and flown to Delhi just in time to catch my flight to Bangkok. Nice, I really hadnt expected that at all and I caught my Indian airlines flight to Bangkok without any drama. The aircraft looked like it had seen better days though, put it this way, I remember flying on these types of planes in my youth, it still had the illuminated smoking signs and seat belt lights above the seats and certainly no games console in the seat infront, but then this is government owned Indian Airlines and to be honest if the planes are run anything like the rest of the country Im suprised it got off the ground at all. But all we-718699.jpg)
nt without a hitch. People had warned me about flying Indian Airlines and I can kind of see why, but its cheap and do you really need backgammon in headrest console for an extra 100 quid?When I arrived in Bangkok I remember my first recollections being ones of shock and suprise as I drove by taxi along plush streets and smooth roads to the city. I came here 20 years ago and remember a city of smog, slums and chaos, potholed roads that kind of thing. Now its ordered and clean the roads are smooth freeways and you can find everything and anything from a quality multiplex cinema with every concievable luxury, gucci and prada shopping malls to the chinese old town market complete with squalking chickens and all the chaos you could ever need. The streets are cleaned
-748848.jpg)
each night and the traffic is orderely, or perhaps this is just because Ive come from India I dont know. But in many ways I felt I'd stepped back into a very civilised and ordered society, and that came as a some relief after all the hecticness of the last few months in India. Above the streets theres the luxury sky train that buzzes overhead reducing the congestion in the Sois and roads.all this aside theres also the seedier side to bangkok too. I walked down Patpong to see shady western characters with heads hung low, escorted by young boys and young girls, offensive and unpleasant to say the least, and so they should hang theie heads....one walk down the road was enough distaste for me. Its like a sex supermarket, all catered for and off the shelf. I see overweight, middle aged, unnattractive westerners with beautiful young Thai girls on their arms around
almost every corner. I dont really know what to make about this about this other than is a buisness agreement, the man gets a beautiful wife the girl gets financial freedom, not the best way to enter into marriage, yet some would argue that thats all it is, but what about connection love and spirit. I see these guys almost everywhere I go, in varying guises, but almost all have a strange energy, almost all have a nervy energy as if they can feel the wondering thoughts and intent of peoples stares. This cant possibly a happy way to live, unless youre switched off.Aside from
-746311.jpg)
all this I liked Bangkok. I liked the buzz and the fashion and the kids with all their funny pointy shoes and funky haircuts, sort of an Asian western crossover. So much change from India. I liked the thrill of riding places on the river taxis and scooting over the city in the skytrain. I wanderd the flower markets and fruit markets taking photos, ate fish with a stray cat off a stall in Chinatown, saw the golden reclining Buddha. I slept in a flea pit on Khosan Rd and then a beautiful teak wood house by the river, so quiet and serene, two very different places. Partied with the locals till 5 in the morning at new year at Khoasan Rd and drank far too much Chang and whiskey buckets with musicians (yes over here you can get whiskey and coke in a small bucket, classy!!) all resulting in a two day hangover, but much fun. appaerntly they put amonia in the chang to speed up the brewing process...hmmhhh nice! Yes I liked Bangkok, didnt much like the touristy areas with the usual suspects around the Khosan area but generally it was good to have a little order and fun after India and to cut l-746417.jpg)
oose for a while.So I stayed in Bangkok for about a week, from here its easy to get your bearings and make plans for most of all the things you could think of wanting to do in South east Asia. And with a little thought I decide to head out to Koh Tao a small island in the gulf of Thailand renouned for cheap dive courses. I'd thought about travelling up to Vietnam
-721593.jpg)
and Laos but to be honest right now Im feeling tired of moving without a real purpose, and without my bike this feeling is certainly amplified. I started to feel this way in Agonda and now I know I need to stop for a while and do something active and constructive, rather than simply moving, I need to be learning something for a while that I can constructively use later. Kind of like a lifestyle change in a way, rather than as some might argue a mini mid life crisis! But When I look back Ive been moving now for nearly 8 months and I know Im tired and need a rest and to get some real direction back and as such just drifting from place to place seems a little hollow just now.So I stayed on Koh Tao for about a week, looked at the dive sites and began weighing up the idea of either taking a kitsurfing course or a dive course, with the eventual idea of maybe trying to learn to be an instructor in the future. Koh Tao is a strange little island, very very beautiful and not so developed there are still places where you can get away from it all in a simple shack by the sea, but the main beaches are mostly dotted with dive shops, bars and shacks, but generally its low key and a gentle atmosphere, livings not as cheap as elsewhere but you can get a shack near the beach for about £6. Eating in Thai local restaurants kept the cost downto about £15. Mostly its a 20'somethings paradise for cheap dive courses or stopping off point for the Ko Phang
-721642.jpg)
an full moon party. I noticed the island evacuate when the moons full and the vibe of was much quieter when they'd dissappeared.After a week or so on Koh Tao I decided I try my arm at Kitesurfing as I'd learnt about a kitesurf school on Ko Phangan and thats where I am now after the most insane catamaran ride of my life to the island. 4-5 metre swell, crazy seas, everyone was the pastiest shade of green white Ive seen by the end, even I felt preety sick and I dont really get sea sick. Once I got here I met Pascal the instructore, well what a life he's led, working all over the world as a construction engineer, running bars, involved with the Mafia in China, and so on. A little Belgian guy, when you walk in is office in the morning at 9.30 he has a large coffee, a huge rollup, and a can of Singa, bags under his etes like avalnches, and this setup continues for most of the day. He's quite a character, lives here now, with his Thai wife and child, but I'd say the alchohol has got a firm grip of him, such is life. Ive signed up at the Kitesurf school and am one lesson down. Its so incredibbly tricky to master, but if Im honest I think I could teach myself without the lessons and the lessons are expensive £200 and then the kit to buy is another grand. However right now the wind is poor and Im not getting out so, I think Im going to leave it till february and head back to Koh Tao to do my dive certificates. Its a real toss up between diving and kiteing right now and Im not sure which way it will go. We'll just have to see. Back to Koh Tao after a quick visa run to Panang in Malaysia.
Ko Phangan...hmmmh, well I came here 20 years ago when the the roads were like dried up river beds, the only way round the island was by motorcross bike or 4x4, the jetty was wooden and when you arrived a few people were stood waiting for you to take you to the simple wooden shacks dotted around the island. And now, a full concrete terminal for the ferries, a bui
-748244.jpg)
lt up main town of banks and shops and places renting cars and bikes, the usual toursits fair. Out of town, streets lined with Girly bars, mechanics garages, tattoo parlours, fully paved wide roads for most of the island, you get the idea, much much change.So after one night in the main town near the surf shop and a terrible nights sleep after banging Karaoke and girly bar noise I hired myself a little 225 Yamaha Serrow motorcross bike and headed out to the east side of the island, where the roads are still mud tracks and there are few beer drinking tourists. And to my luck this is where I found Than Sadet a beautiful little bay, with only 2 or three sets of shacks on the beach or on stilts, and electricity thats only on from 6 till12 by an old clanky generator on the top of the cliff. My shack has holes in the floorboards, shutters on the windows, resident bugs and lizards and faded blue paint. Ive
-775955.jpg)
a porch and rickety balcony that looks out over the ocean way way up on the cliff and a hammock that swings low across the porch and looks out to sea. Its wonderful, its not everyones idea of heaven but its mine. I can swim, fish, read do Chi Gong, not be hassled too much. I have beautiful gardens around me as the owners Wow And her Daughter Wee look after the place as home and they live here. Everywhere you look theres a chaos of plants, pots, fountains, ponds and most of the folk are longtermers living up the rocks from me in more shacks and most people here seem to come each year. Theres a nervy Chef from the grassmarket in Edinburgh, a self made sydney nightclub manager who went to school at rugby just taking time out from it all, a french musician, a german divemaster and ex superbikes rider, all good folk. I have my motorcross bike that gets me round the islands tretcherous mud roads, and allows me to cart supplies back and forward. Its certainly much fun riding t-740965.jpg)
he roads, back wheel out round the corners, foot out that kind of stuff, certainly wakes you up in the mornings.So Im planning on heading out to Koh Tao in the next few days and then to Penang in malaysia and back to renew my visa, find some cheap accomodation and diving and I'll be set for the next few weeks. Then maybe come back to Ko Phangan when the winds are back up to start the kitesurfing again.
So until next time many blessings and love. Jonny
★ 2 Comments. | Jonny, Tuesday, January 20, 2009 9:24 PM
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
GOA!!!!!!!!!!
So, Ive been living here in Goa for about a month now, life is very easy and very slow and unless you push yourself to do something not much happens, albeit it, not much happens very slowly. Today is the Christmas eve ans I can here jingle bells ringing out from the restaurant next door, bit early at 9.30 am but its Christmas I suppose. I arrived here on the 22nd of November, tim-732755.jpg)
e passes quickly with little drama.
Today has been a good day, my first malaria test came up negative only one more to pass tomorrow and then I can start to feel paranoid about some other illness rather than this one. Perhaps I'll start with dengue fever. I dont know, Ive had strange headaches, muscle pains and fever for the last couple of weeks and convinced myself during fretful sleepless nights that i was dying of some terrible cerebral malaria, only the though of an unqualified crazy nurse jabbing needles into me stopped me from charging head first to the nearest hospital. But today the fear got to me and to the pathology lab I bolted, one small jab in the finger and Im half way to being malaria negative and half way to wo-792621.jpg)
ndering what the hecks the matter with me. hey ho, its too easy for the smallest of ailments to become life threatening diseases when your heads full of lonely planet dangers and annoyances pages, throw the books away theyre evil in more ways than one!
Ive just come back from setting fishing nets up for the day. Its such a wonderful feeling to swim out into the ocean and set out the nets for youre supper. I felt full of laughter, freedom and smiles and maybe with my friend Godwins help we might catch something.
Im staying at Godwins place on the beach here in Agonda and its a blessing that Im here, all the other shacks and huts on the beach are really buisness ventures but Godwin and his wife Jenny have 4 huts on stilts and a couple of rooms all in their own garden slap bang on the beach. Theres no attach-732846.jpg)
ed restaurant no fancy amenities or jangly lights and essentially you live with them. They hang their clothes up in the garden, the kids come and play guitar with me, Jenny cooks my dinner from time to time and Bingo the dog ignores everyone in an aloof head of the household kind of a way. I like it here and I like Jenny and Godwin, theyre good souls, sure theyre making money but in a laxidazical way. As Godwin says, "we dont need the money this just pays for the housekeeping" And he's right, he works as a marine engineer for Shell 6 months of the year abroad, six month home, good money, but he doesnt show it, and as such that makes him even more likeable.Ive been taken out to his new home he's building for his family in the hills above agonda. Its three stories, marble floors, internal balconies, 4 or 5 bedrooms, its not really to my taste but beautiful none th-792700.jpg)
e less and even more beautiful when I found out he designed it all himself while onboard the ship for six months!
Its starnge to be here though, in so much that its starnge to be placed in a catholic community in India. Half of this beach is catholic half Hindu, part of the portugese legacy. The difference is very noticeable and I like the change. The Catholic Indians are much more approachable and I have to say seem to be much more honest and reliable. Perhaps that has something to do with not sinning, I dont know maybe its just Jenny and Godwin's way. But to see their kids wandering around the beach with Singing Santa's chiming jingle bells is pretty surreal! This is about as far removed form snow, elves, sleighs and lapland as I can imagine, but its kind of nice too, in a perculiar way. Apparently we all get invited in for fruit desert a-722489.jpg)
s Christmas, no turkey though, maybe fish, who knows. I would certainly recommend anyone come here and stay with this family, if you want to do nothing but relax and unwind for a couple of weeks then this is the place.
Right now though most of Goa is deserted, and the recent bombing in Mumbai seem to be the cause, no ones making any money and on brief excursions up and down the coast the situation seems to be much the same, very quiet. Even the ever popular Anjuna flea market was deserted when I turned up, as was Anjuna and as such I found it rather a pleasant place to be and could see why all the freaks turned up here in the 70's.
My days consist of 45 minutes Reiki on waking, a few sit ups and pr-725014.jpg)
ess ups, 30 minutes meditation on the beach in the early morning before breakfast, then lazing about doing whatever springs to mind till about 5pm when I do Chi Gong before the sun sets, grab my evening meal and a couple of beers, write some music then head to bed. Its a nice way to pass the time but I couldnt do it forever. Im yearning for a big city and some movement, which for me is really strange as I actively avoid noise and chaos. But the time is coming when I need to see some bright lights,neon signs and cars, just to get a lungful of it all to remind me why I really want to be anywhere else.
So, with that in mind Im heading to Bangkok on the 30th. Flying out of Delhi, yet another flight I know, but what can you do? Theres no way across for me now, Burma is a logistical nightmare and in essence-722552.jpg)
Im forced to concede, if a little too easily, that flight is the only option. If I felt like I had more time and like I was really the commanding officer of this trip then I'd find some other way, but as such I dont. Its one thing Ive come to realise, that without my bike this trip loses a large part of its meaning, its direction and its purpose. A big part of me wishes I'd rode across Iran and Pakistan regardless of my fears, though another part of me knows that would have been a big headache or a potential distaster, but when I think deep I feel it would have been alright. So the bike is sold, Godwin seemed to take a fancy to it and he's bought it from me for the amount I paid, I think I could have got more money if I'd waited and sold it to some foreigner but it would have meant a whole load of hassle and time and as such Im glad its gone to a good home. Its strange though because Im really rather sad to see it go regardless of it being a rattly boneshaking arse kille-725101.jpg)
r of a ride that is forever needing attention. Still I have to confess Im really rather fond of it, rattles and all.
So the extra Malaria test is negative, woohooo, so I can cross malaria of my list of potentially fatal diseases Ive caught and start mulling over what other deadly ailment I could have, tick born encephalitis, Dengue fever, hepatitis, rabies?
So, today I head south down the coast to a little deserted beach called Polem and gently work my way back up home on the bike. I have to concede that all the armfuls of flak people give Goa must be from people who have never been here or have never ventured out from the place theyre at. Sur-767465.jpg)
e there are places that are hotel block nightmares,like Calangute, but like anywhere thats not the full story, and certainly in the south there are beautiful coconut beaches with not a soul on them. You only need to rent a bike and head up or down the coast and you soon find these little enclaves with a few shacks and isolated beaches, perfect seas and no-one around.
So I have about 7 days or so before I leave for Thailand so theres a few things to organise, Im planning on travelling with very little so Im sending the majority of my stuff home. Its always the case that you bring far more than you ever need, I do it every time, and right now I just want as few possesions as are necessary to give the freedom I feel I need to just move with little hassles. So until after the New Year and Thailand I wish you all a beautiful Christmas and New Year, many blessings Jonny
-732766.jpg)
e passes quickly with little drama.Today has been a good day, my first malaria test came up negative only one more to pass tomorrow and then I can start to feel paranoid about some other illness rather than this one. Perhaps I'll start with dengue fever. I dont know, Ive had strange headaches, muscle pains and fever for the last couple of weeks and convinced myself during fretful sleepless nights that i was dying of some terrible cerebral malaria, only the though of an unqualified crazy nurse jabbing needles into me stopped me from charging head first to the nearest hospital. But today the fear got to me and to the pathology lab I bolted, one small jab in the finger and Im half way to being malaria negative and half way to wo
-792637.jpg)
ndering what the hecks the matter with me. hey ho, its too easy for the smallest of ailments to become life threatening diseases when your heads full of lonely planet dangers and annoyances pages, throw the books away theyre evil in more ways than one!Ive just come back from setting fishing nets up for the day. Its such a wonderful feeling to swim out into the ocean and set out the nets for youre supper. I felt full of laughter, freedom and smiles and maybe with my friend Godwins help we might catch something.
Im staying at Godwins place on the beach here in Agonda and its a blessing that Im here, all the other shacks and huts on the beach are really buisness ventures but Godwin and his wife Jenny have 4 huts on stilts and a couple of rooms all in their own garden slap bang on the beach. Theres no attach
-733035.jpg)
ed restaurant no fancy amenities or jangly lights and essentially you live with them. They hang their clothes up in the garden, the kids come and play guitar with me, Jenny cooks my dinner from time to time and Bingo the dog ignores everyone in an aloof head of the household kind of a way. I like it here and I like Jenny and Godwin, theyre good souls, sure theyre making money but in a laxidazical way. As Godwin says, "we dont need the money this just pays for the housekeeping" And he's right, he works as a marine engineer for Shell 6 months of the year abroad, six month home, good money, but he doesnt show it, and as such that makes him even more likeable.Ive been taken out to his new home he's building for his family in the hills above agonda. Its three stories, marble floors, internal balconies, 4 or 5 bedrooms, its not really to my taste but beautiful none th-792717.jpg)
e less and even more beautiful when I found out he designed it all himself while onboard the ship for six months!Its starnge to be here though, in so much that its starnge to be placed in a catholic community in India. Half of this beach is catholic half Hindu, part of the portugese legacy. The difference is very noticeable and I like the change. The Catholic Indians are much more approachable and I have to say seem to be much more honest and reliable. Perhaps that has something to do with not sinning, I dont know maybe its just Jenny and Godwin's way. But to see their kids wandering around the beach with Singing Santa's chiming jingle bells is pretty surreal! This is about as far removed form snow, elves, sleighs and lapland as I can imagine, but its kind of nice too, in a perculiar way. Apparently we all get invited in for fruit desert a
-722501.jpg)
s Christmas, no turkey though, maybe fish, who knows. I would certainly recommend anyone come here and stay with this family, if you want to do nothing but relax and unwind for a couple of weeks then this is the place.Right now though most of Goa is deserted, and the recent bombing in Mumbai seem to be the cause, no ones making any money and on brief excursions up and down the coast the situation seems to be much the same, very quiet. Even the ever popular Anjuna flea market was deserted when I turned up, as was Anjuna and as such I found it rather a pleasant place to be and could see why all the freaks turned up here in the 70's.
My days consist of 45 minutes Reiki on waking, a few sit ups and pr
-725033.jpg)
ess ups, 30 minutes meditation on the beach in the early morning before breakfast, then lazing about doing whatever springs to mind till about 5pm when I do Chi Gong before the sun sets, grab my evening meal and a couple of beers, write some music then head to bed. Its a nice way to pass the time but I couldnt do it forever. Im yearning for a big city and some movement, which for me is really strange as I actively avoid noise and chaos. But the time is coming when I need to see some bright lights,neon signs and cars, just to get a lungful of it all to remind me why I really want to be anywhere else.So, with that in mind Im heading to Bangkok on the 30th. Flying out of Delhi, yet another flight I know, but what can you do? Theres no way across for me now, Burma is a logistical nightmare and in essence
-722565.jpg)
Im forced to concede, if a little too easily, that flight is the only option. If I felt like I had more time and like I was really the commanding officer of this trip then I'd find some other way, but as such I dont. Its one thing Ive come to realise, that without my bike this trip loses a large part of its meaning, its direction and its purpose. A big part of me wishes I'd rode across Iran and Pakistan regardless of my fears, though another part of me knows that would have been a big headache or a potential distaster, but when I think deep I feel it would have been alright. So the bike is sold, Godwin seemed to take a fancy to it and he's bought it from me for the amount I paid, I think I could have got more money if I'd waited and sold it to some foreigner but it would have meant a whole load of hassle and time and as such Im glad its gone to a good home. Its strange though because Im really rather sad to see it go regardless of it being a rattly boneshaking arse kille-725118.jpg)
r of a ride that is forever needing attention. Still I have to confess Im really rather fond of it, rattles and all.So the extra Malaria test is negative, woohooo, so I can cross malaria of my list of potentially fatal diseases Ive caught and start mulling over what other deadly ailment I could have, tick born encephalitis, Dengue fever, hepatitis, rabies?
So, today I head south down the coast to a little deserted beach called Polem and gently work my way back up home on the bike. I have to concede that all the armfuls of flak people give Goa must be from people who have never been here or have never ventured out from the place theyre at. Sur
-767700.jpg)
e there are places that are hotel block nightmares,like Calangute, but like anywhere thats not the full story, and certainly in the south there are beautiful coconut beaches with not a soul on them. You only need to rent a bike and head up or down the coast and you soon find these little enclaves with a few shacks and isolated beaches, perfect seas and no-one around.So I have about 7 days or so before I leave for Thailand so theres a few things to organise, Im planning on travelling with very little so Im sending the majority of my stuff home. Its always the case that you bring far more than you ever need, I do it every time, and right now I just want as few possesions as are necessary to give the freedom I feel I need to just move with little hassles. So until after the New Year and Thailand I wish you all a beautiful Christmas and New Year, many blessings Jonny
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★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Tuesday, December 23, 2008 11:06 PM
Friday, November 28, 2008
Dharamsala to Goa
After finally getting the bike together in Mcleod Ganj I set off headed south with the intention of catching the train to Goa with my bike and riding down south to Kerala. he way to Delhi passed through and out of the foothills of the himalyas across beautiful flowing hills and river beds all the way to Chandrigarh. Which for me was really just a stop on the way to Delhi. The guide book says this is a revolutionary city in comparson to most cities in India, all green with gardens boutiques and shops.Its was apparently designed by a swiss architect when the split came with pakistan and was supposed to be a statement of modern India. To me it just semed like the usual scruffy Indian city but loosely based around an american grid system, which kind of gave it a european/american feel. But to be honest I didnt spend enough time here to get a true feel for it. Its an odd mix, and in many ways feels very out of place in India, boutiques line the shopping mall style streets, yet theres still chai sellers, beggars and shoe shiners lining the paved boulevards. It kind of leaves you feeling a little confused in many respects, sort of transplants you somewhere else and not at the same time.
So I heaved the lumpy Enfield out of Chandigarh and rode the motorway to Delhi. Now this is something e
lse. Motorway it is, motorway as you know it, it is not. Here on the motorway driving takes on a whole new parallel universe. Imagine the M1 and then add all the cars you usually have on a motorway, then take away half the driving licenses, subtract any MOT or road fitness for vehicles and increase the speeds. Once youve got this melting pot of potential visits to the crematorium, add carts, donkeys, rickshwas, tuktuks, old men, young men, young children,water bufalos, holy cows camped for the day in the middle lane, monkeys and potholes the size of bomb craters. Then once youve got a handle on this let a quarter of the traffic come the wrong way up the motorway in all lanes! Its sheer madness. Someone says that driving in India in all about reactions, theyre right, you have to throw away what you know and have learne-767129.jpg)
d as it mostly doesnt work. The horn is king and you simply have to have good breaks, quick reactions and balls the size of a large Bull India elephant. Its insane really and Im not sure you really ever get a hang of it. Countless times I nearly ended up doing a fair impression of a squashed fly on the back of a bus as it steered to avoid a bomb crater or a car thats just pulled straight across the central reservation. Some say that driving in Delhi is a nightmare and so many people put the fear into me about this but its nothing compared to this rollercoater ride on the motorways, its great fun but very dangerous.
Once I hit Delhi I managed to ride through it before I realsied I was out the other side. For some reason I thought it was a huge sprawling mass but its nothing compared to london and the driving is simple c-781007.jpg)
ompared to the motorways. All the horror Delhi driving stories are nonsense. sure theres lots of traffic but its slow moving and you have time to figure whats happening and stop. If you do crash into someone its at slow speed and you can get away with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile, which I did on a few encounters with maniac autorickshaw drivers.
Delhi, well, what to say about Delhi, I loved it some days and hated it others. Its so real and raw and chaotic and fun and horrible and dirty and sad and and and, its everything in one and that kind of assault on the senses I loved some days and when I was tired I hated it. Ive sat in the dusty streets in Old Delhi writing with a crowd of kids staring at my pages like we all stare at the television back home and Ive taken photos of beautiful bright sari clad women and their ch-767034.jpg)
ildren selling bananas and fruits on the central reservation, talked with old packers in Old Delhi train station about life and the wish to get out of India to the States to earn money. Ive sat from dawn till dusk in scruffy back streets of Karol Bagh, watching the biggest motorcycle market in the world, streets and streets of bikes, seats, hadlebars, engines every concievable thing for bikes. Ive sat with mechanics rebuilding my gearbox, changing wheels and generally rebuilding my bike for all of a tenner. Delhi is wonderfully full on in every sense, and looking back its an experience everyone should take on but once is enough-720366.jpg)
for me. I have to say though that the saving grace was staying in the Tibetan enclave of Majnu Ka Tila on the outskirts of the city, Here you can escape all the India delhi hecticness and -759823.jpg)
be immersed in a much slower getler culture. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien saying its like something off Harry Potter and its such an apt description. All winding skinny alleyways with little shops selling all manner of Tibetan things, silversmiths, monasteries all hidden down dark twisty alleys. You can almost imagine finding a shop selling magic wands, dragon eggs and flying broomsticks. I loved it and each night it was a welcome relief to get back here, it felt very much like home.
The main reason I was in Delhi was to rearrange my flight home and organise the bike onto the train south.Im planning on coming home in April and work the summer in Edinburgh to pay for the next pa-780924.jpg)
rt of the trip and also to pick up my bike and prepare it for the long haul. When I think about it I really miss my bike, it feels strange to not have her with me but in many respects Im glad I dont have her here as getting parts would be a nightmare and the state of the roads would shake the hell out of her bones, its better to have an Enfield and let it fall apart.
In New Delhi station i embarked on getting myself and the bike on the train to Goa. Its certainly a task but easier than you think. Basically, you turn up about 3 to 4 hours before the train departs with your prebooked ticket, saunter over to the luggage office and book the bike in as luggage which costs you per kilometer on a weight base. For me it cost in total 2500 Irp which is about 30 pounds for a 48hr train journey and some 2000 km. Certainly cheaper than riding it and a whole heap less hassle. The bike has to be packed up, which simply involves sticking some hessian sacking over the bike and stuffing it with straw. -759754.jpg)
There are guys at the station to do this and its best to tip the guys well to do a good job and take off breakables such as mirrors and lights. When I did this in Delhi the packers drained all the petrol out of the bike into plastic bottles on the platform and then I had a crowd of folk around me punting offers for the fuel, so its easy to sell. I sold the majority of the fuel and took a litre with me in luggage to start the bike at the other end. The process is simple, the only hassle is trying to keep a tag on all your luggage while all this is going on. I just asked the luggage guy to keep an eye on it and trusted the of it all fate to the gods. No problems.
The Indian trains are wonderful, I love the trains. I love the idea that you can sleep and meet all these interesting folk sleep and then some more folk get on and you get a whole fresh perspective. The sleeping berths are arranged in tiers of six and if youre on the bottom you have to get used to feeling like your in a vampires coffin on a night, but I was just glad to be lying down and resting and not riding riding riding. To me I was in heaven, travelling south to warm climates, me and my bike with all my luggage and nothing to do for 2 days, no responsibility, except the mystery of my constantly disapearing shoes. You meet all manner of folk on the trains, backpackers, buisness men, ordinary folk, robotics engineers you name it and youre all packed in so tight you have to get along fine and dandy. Everything comes to your seat, chai, curry, breakfast, lunch, dinner its wonderful to just while away the days.Travelling by train is so nice because you get to see the landscape and people changing as youre moving along and one of the really wonderful things to do is sit in the open door and watch the world go by your feet.
When I stepped off the train in Goa I knew I was in a very different place, the heat hit me staight away and I also saw I was surrounded by palm trees. I grabbed the bike, saw-720162.jpg)
s all was in order, signed the book, ignored the policemans asking for money. "no Im not going to give you any money, what for?" I told him. Ive become blase about all this kind of nonsense now, put the litre of fuel I stashed in my bags kicked the bike over and rolled off towards Agonda beach in the south of Goa. No dramas, putting ther bike on the train is a breeze.
The pace of life here is very very different, people are slower and gentler in nature. Im sure its has something to do with the climate, the beach and the sun. Its so beautiful riding here, water buffalos in rice paddies and green green forests with windy roads through palm groves and jungles, couple that with the slow pace and its the recipe for slowing right down and taking it easy. For some the idea of Goa is a nightmare, all night trance parties and fucked up acid heads but thats only half the story. -775263.jpg)
For example Im sat on a beach with a few rackety wooden huts a handful of restaurants and hardly any people, just rolling surf a bamboo shack on stilts the sand in my feet and clear clear blue sky with the surf rolling in. Life is slow and easy, slowing down is harder especially after the chaos of delhi but Im getting there. Some of the days I have no idea where they get to as its really easy to do very little and slow right down. I like it here, its not Goa in the traditional sense I presume. I can meditate, do Chi Kung on the beach, swim in the warmest ocean Ive ever swam in, watch dolphins from my room, have the time and space to practice guitar, write and eat beautiful food all for less than a tenner a day. Living like a king on the beach for now is great, but I-720212.jpg)
suspect the solitude here could get to you. Theres only a few bamboo shacks and everything is very low key. I may stay for Christmas and fly out in the new year to Sri Lanka to get my Visa renewed and then head to Kerala in the new year. Also Goa is very small so easily toured from a base which is what I intend to do. So for now Im just slowing down and relaxing, riding very little, thinking about my plans for coming home in April and doing all the things I never give myself the time to do. So until next time many blessings and love to all.
After finally getting the bike together in Mcleod Ganj I set off headed south with the intention of catching the train to Goa with my bike and riding down south to Kerala. he way to Delhi passed through and out of the foothills of the himalyas across beautiful flowing hills and river beds all the way to Chandrigarh. Which for me was really just a stop on the way to Delhi. The guide book says this is a revolutionary city in comparson to most cities in India, all green with gardens boutiques and shops.Its was apparently designed by a swiss architect when the split came with pakistan and was supposed to be a statement of modern India. To me it just semed like the usual scruffy Indian city but loosely based around an american grid system, which kind of gave it a european/american feel. But to be honest I didnt spend enough time here to get a true feel for it. Its an odd mix, and in many ways feels very out of place in India, boutiques line the shopping mall style streets, yet theres still chai sellers, beggars and shoe shiners lining the paved boulevards. It kind of leaves you feeling a little confused in many respects, sort of transplants you somewhere else and not at the same time.
So I heaved the lumpy Enfield out of Chandigarh and rode the motorway to Delhi. Now this is something else. Motorway it is, motorway as you know it, it is not. Here on the motorway driving takes on a whole new parallel universe. Imagine the M1 and then add all the cars you usually have on a motorway, then take away half the driving licenses, subtract any MOT or road fitness for vehicles and increase the speeds. Once youve got this melting pot of potential visits to the crematorium, add carts, donkeys, rickshwas, tuktuks, old men, young men, young children,water bufalos, holy cows camped for the day in the middle lane, monkeys and potholes the size of bomb craters. Then once youve got a handle on this let a quarter of the traffic come the wrong way up the motorway in all lanes! Its sheer madness. Someone says that driving in India in all about reactions, theyre right, you have to throw away what you know and have learned as it mostly doesnt work. The horn is king and you simply have to have good breaks, quick reactions and balls the size of a large Bull India elephant. Its insane really and Im not sure you really ever get a hang of it. Countless times I nearly ended up doing a fair impression of a squashed fly on the back of a bus as it steered to avoid a bomb crater or a car thats just pulled straight across the central reservation. Some say that driving in Delhi is a nightmare and so many people put the fear into me about this but its nothing compared to this rollercoater ride on the motorways, its great fun but very dangerous.
Once I hit Delhi I managed to ride through it before I realsied I was out the other side. For some reason I thought it was a huge sprawling mass but its nothing compared to london and the driving is simple compared to the motorways. All the horror Delhi driving stories are nonsense. sure theres lots of traffic but its slow moving and you have time to figure whats happening and stop. If you do crash into someone its at slow speed and you can get away with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile, which I did on a few encounters with maniac autorickshaw drivers.
Delhi, well, what to say about Delhi, I loved it some days and hated it others. Its so real and raw and chaotic and fun and horrible and dirty and sad and and and, its everything in one and that kind of assault on the senses I loved some days and when I was tired I hated it. Ive sat in the dusty streets in Old Delhi writing with a crowd of kids staring at my pages like we all stare at the television back home and Ive taken photos of beautiful bright sari clad women and their children selling bananas and fruits on the central reservation, talked with old packers in Old Delhi train station about life and the wish to get out of India to the States to earn money. Ive sat from dawn till dusk in scruffy back streets of Karol Bagh, watching the biggest motorcycle market in the world, streets and streets of bikes, seats, hadlebars, engines every concievable thing for bikes. Ive sat with mechanics rebuilding my gearbox, changing wheels and generally rebuilding my bike for all of a tenner. Delhi is wonderfully full on in every sense, and looking back its an experience everyone should take on but once is enough for me. I have to say though that the saving grace was staying in the Tibetan enclave of Majnu Ka Tila on the outskirts of the city, Here you can escape all the India delhi hecticness and be immersed in a much slower getler culture. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien saying its like something off Harry Potter and its such an apt description. All winding skinny alleyways with little shops selling all manner of Tibetan things, silversmiths, monasteries all hidden down dark twisty alleys. You can almost imagine finding a shop selling magic wands, dragon eggs and flying broomsticks. I loved it and each night it was a welcome relief to get back here, it felt very much like home.
The main reason I was in Delhi was to rearrange my flight home and organise the bike onto the train south.Im planning on coming home in April and work the summer in Edinburgh to pay for the next part of the trip and also to pick up my bike and prepare it for the long haul. When I think about it I really miss my bike, it feels strange to not have her with me but in many respects Im glad I dont have her here as getting parts would be a nightmare and the state of the roads would shake the hell out of her bones, its better to have an Enfield and let it fall apart.
In New Delhi station i embarked on getting myself and the bike on the train to Goa. Its certainly a task but easier than you think. Basically, you turn up about 3 to 4 hours before the train departs with your prebooked ticket, saunter over to the luggage office and book the bike in as luggage which costs you per kilometer on a weight base. For me it cost in total 2500 Irp which is about 30 pounds for a 48hr train journey and some 2000 km. Certainly cheaper than riding it and a whole heap less hassle. The bike has to be packed up, which simply involves sticking some hessian sacking over the bike and stuffing it with straw.There are guys at the station to do this and its best to tip the guys well to do a good job and take off breakables such as mirrors and lights. When I did this in Delhi the packers drained all the petrol out of the bike into plastic bottles on the platform and then I had a crowd of folk around me punting offers for the fuel, so its easy to sell. I sold the majority of the fuel and took a litre with me in luggage to start the bike at the other end. The process is simple, the only hassle is trying to keep a tag on all your luggage while all this is going on. I just asked the luggage guy to keep an eye on it and trusted the of it all fate to the gods. No problems.
The Indian trains are wonderful, I love the trains. I love the idea that you can sleep and meet all these interesting folk sleep and then some more folk get on and you get a whole fresh perspective. The sleeping berths are arranged in tiers of six and if youre on the bottom you have to get used to feeling like your in a vampires coffin on a night, but I was just glad to be lying down and resting and not riding riding riding. To me I was in heaven, travelling south to warm climates, me and my bike with all my luggage and nothing to do for 2 days, no responsibility, except the mystery of my constantly disapearing shoes. You meet all manner of folk on the trains, backpackers, buisness men, ordinary folk, robotics engineers you name it and youre all packed in so tight you have to get along fine and dandy. Everything comes to your seat, chai, curry, breakfast, lunch, dinner its wonderful to just while away the days.Travelling by train is so nice because you get to see the landscape and people changing as youre moving along and one of the really wonderful things to do is sit in the open door and watch the world go by your feet.
When I stepped off the train in Goa I knew I was in a very different place, the heat hit me staight away and I also saw I was surrounded by palm trees. I grabbed the bike, saws all was in order, signed the book, ignored the policemans asking for money. "no Im not going to give you any money, what for?" I told him. Ive become blase about all this kind of nonsense now, put the litre of fuel I stashed in my bags kicked the bike over and rolled off towards Agonda beach in the south of Goa. No dramas, putting ther bike on the train is a breeze.
The pace of life here is very very different, people are slower and gentler in nature. Im sure its has something to do with the climate, the beach and the sun. Its so beautiful riding here, water buffalos in rice paddies and green green forests with windy roads through palm groves and jungles, couple that with the slow pace and its the recipe for slowing right down and taking it easy. For some the idea of Goa is a nightmare, all night trance parties and fucked up acid heads but thats only half the story.For example Im sat on a beach with a few rackety wooden huts a handful of restaurants and hardly any people, just rolling surf a bamboo shack on stilts the sand in my feet and clear clear blue sky with the surf rolling in. Life is slow and easy, slowing down is harder especially after the chaos of delhi but Im getting there. Some of the days I have no idea where they get to as its really easy to do very little and slow right down. I like it here, its not Goa in the traditional sense I presume. I can meditate, do Chi Kung on the beach, swim in the warmest ocean Ive ever swam in, watch dolphins from my room, have the time and space to practice guitar, write and eat beautiful food all for less than a tenner a day. Living like a king on the beach for now is great, but I suspect the solitude here could get to you. Theres only a few bamboo shacks and everything is very low key. I may stay for Christmas and fly out in the new year to Sri Lanka to get my Visa renewed and then head to Kerala in the new year. Also Goa is very small so easily toured from a base which is what I intend to do. So for now Im just slowing down and relaxing, riding very little, thinking about my plans for coming home in April and doing all the things I never give myself the time to do. So until next time many blessings and love to all.
So I heaved the lumpy Enfield out of Chandigarh and rode the motorway to Delhi. Now this is something e
lse. Motorway it is, motorway as you know it, it is not. Here on the motorway driving takes on a whole new parallel universe. Imagine the M1 and then add all the cars you usually have on a motorway, then take away half the driving licenses, subtract any MOT or road fitness for vehicles and increase the speeds. Once youve got this melting pot of potential visits to the crematorium, add carts, donkeys, rickshwas, tuktuks, old men, young men, young children,water bufalos, holy cows camped for the day in the middle lane, monkeys and potholes the size of bomb craters. Then once youve got a handle on this let a quarter of the traffic come the wrong way up the motorway in all lanes! Its sheer madness. Someone says that driving in India in all about reactions, theyre right, you have to throw away what you know and have learne-767319.jpg)
d as it mostly doesnt work. The horn is king and you simply have to have good breaks, quick reactions and balls the size of a large Bull India elephant. Its insane really and Im not sure you really ever get a hang of it. Countless times I nearly ended up doing a fair impression of a squashed fly on the back of a bus as it steered to avoid a bomb crater or a car thats just pulled straight across the central reservation. Some say that driving in Delhi is a nightmare and so many people put the fear into me about this but its nothing compared to this rollercoater ride on the motorways, its great fun but very dangerous.Once I hit Delhi I managed to ride through it before I realsied I was out the other side. For some reason I thought it was a huge sprawling mass but its nothing compared to london and the driving is simple c
-781031.jpg)
ompared to the motorways. All the horror Delhi driving stories are nonsense. sure theres lots of traffic but its slow moving and you have time to figure whats happening and stop. If you do crash into someone its at slow speed and you can get away with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile, which I did on a few encounters with maniac autorickshaw drivers.Delhi, well, what to say about Delhi, I loved it some days and hated it others. Its so real and raw and chaotic and fun and horrible and dirty and sad and and and, its everything in one and that kind of assault on the senses I loved some days and when I was tired I hated it. Ive sat in the dusty streets in Old Delhi writing with a crowd of kids staring at my pages like we all stare at the television back home and Ive taken photos of beautiful bright sari clad women and their ch
-767054.jpg)
ildren selling bananas and fruits on the central reservation, talked with old packers in Old Delhi train station about life and the wish to get out of India to the States to earn money. Ive sat from dawn till dusk in scruffy back streets of Karol Bagh, watching the biggest motorcycle market in the world, streets and streets of bikes, seats, hadlebars, engines every concievable thing for bikes. Ive sat with mechanics rebuilding my gearbox, changing wheels and generally rebuilding my bike for all of a tenner. Delhi is wonderfully full on in every sense, and looking back its an experience everyone should take on but once is enough-720386.jpg)
for me. I have to say though that the saving grace was staying in the Tibetan enclave of Majnu Ka Tila on the outskirts of the city, Here you can escape all the India delhi hecticness and -759846.jpg)
be immersed in a much slower getler culture. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien saying its like something off Harry Potter and its such an apt description. All winding skinny alleyways with little shops selling all manner of Tibetan things, silversmiths, monasteries all hidden down dark twisty alleys. You can almost imagine finding a shop selling magic wands, dragon eggs and flying broomsticks. I loved it and each night it was a welcome relief to get back here, it felt very much like home.The main reason I was in Delhi was to rearrange my flight home and organise the bike onto the train south.Im planning on coming home in April and work the summer in Edinburgh to pay for the next pa
-780939.jpg)
rt of the trip and also to pick up my bike and prepare it for the long haul. When I think about it I really miss my bike, it feels strange to not have her with me but in many respects Im glad I dont have her here as getting parts would be a nightmare and the state of the roads would shake the hell out of her bones, its better to have an Enfield and let it fall apart.In New Delhi station i embarked on getting myself and the bike on the train to Goa. Its certainly a task but easier than you think. Basically, you turn up about 3 to 4 hours before the train departs with your prebooked ticket, saunter over to the luggage office and book the bike in as luggage which costs you per kilometer on a weight base. For me it cost in total 2500 Irp which is about 30 pounds for a 48hr train journey and some 2000 km. Certainly cheaper than riding it and a whole heap less hassle. The bike has to be packed up, which simply involves sticking some hessian sacking over the bike and stuffing it with straw.
-759770.jpg)
There are guys at the station to do this and its best to tip the guys well to do a good job and take off breakables such as mirrors and lights. When I did this in Delhi the packers drained all the petrol out of the bike into plastic bottles on the platform and then I had a crowd of folk around me punting offers for the fuel, so its easy to sell. I sold the majority of the fuel and took a litre with me in luggage to start the bike at the other end. The process is simple, the only hassle is trying to keep a tag on all your luggage while all this is going on. I just asked the luggage guy to keep an eye on it and trusted the of it all fate to the gods. No problems.The Indian trains are wonderful, I love the trains. I love the idea that you can sleep and meet all these interesting folk sleep and then some more folk get on and you get a whole fresh perspective. The sleeping berths are arranged in tiers of six and if youre on the bottom you have to get used to feeling like your in a vampires coffin on a night, but I was just glad to be lying down and resting and not riding riding riding. To me I was in heaven, travelling south to warm climates, me and my bike with all my luggage and nothing to do for 2 days, no responsibility, except the mystery of my constantly disapearing shoes. You meet all manner of folk on the trains, backpackers, buisness men, ordinary folk, robotics engineers you name it and youre all packed in so tight you have to get along fine and dandy. Everything comes to your seat, chai, curry, breakfast, lunch, dinner its wonderful to just while away the days.Travelling by train is so nice because you get to see the landscape and people changing as youre moving along and one of the really wonderful things to do is sit in the open door and watch the world go by your feet.
When I stepped off the train in Goa I knew I was in a very different place, the heat hit me staight away and I also saw I was surrounded by palm trees. I grabbed the bike, saw
-720171.jpg)
s all was in order, signed the book, ignored the policemans asking for money. "no Im not going to give you any money, what for?" I told him. Ive become blase about all this kind of nonsense now, put the litre of fuel I stashed in my bags kicked the bike over and rolled off towards Agonda beach in the south of Goa. No dramas, putting ther bike on the train is a breeze.The pace of life here is very very different, people are slower and gentler in nature. Im sure its has something to do with the climate, the beach and the sun. Its so beautiful riding here, water buffalos in rice paddies and green green forests with windy roads through palm groves and jungles, couple that with the slow pace and its the recipe for slowing right down and taking it easy. For some the idea of Goa is a nightmare, all night trance parties and fucked up acid heads but thats only half the story.
-775295.jpg)
For example Im sat on a beach with a few rackety wooden huts a handful of restaurants and hardly any people, just rolling surf a bamboo shack on stilts the sand in my feet and clear clear blue sky with the surf rolling in. Life is slow and easy, slowing down is harder especially after the chaos of delhi but Im getting there. Some of the days I have no idea where they get to as its really easy to do very little and slow right down. I like it here, its not Goa in the traditional sense I presume. I can meditate, do Chi Kung on the beach, swim in the warmest ocean Ive ever swam in, watch dolphins from my room, have the time and space to practice guitar, write and eat beautiful food all for less than a tenner a day. Living like a king on the beach for now is great, but I-720222.jpg)
suspect the solitude here could get to you. Theres only a few bamboo shacks and everything is very low key. I may stay for Christmas and fly out in the new year to Sri Lanka to get my Visa renewed and then head to Kerala in the new year. Also Goa is very small so easily toured from a base which is what I intend to do. So for now Im just slowing down and relaxing, riding very little, thinking about my plans for coming home in April and doing all the things I never give myself the time to do. So until next time many blessings and love to all.★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Friday, November 28, 2008 3:16 AM
Friday, October 24, 2008
Bent forks bent head
The search for a bike in Dharamasala has taken me tripping this way and that all over the countryside, to most if not all of the scuffy 
back yard Enfield workshops and garages in and around Dharamsala. Its hard work, and a real exercise in keeping your cool when dealing with people and their attitude to the money they think youre hiding in your pockets. It seems to me theres just too much disposable tourist money up here coupled with people with little to no idea about motorcycles .This equates roughly to people trying to sell me any old rat bag at hugely inflated prices with a sales patter better placed in a Rolls Royce dealership. At first I was sympathetic to this kind of foolishness, but after seeing at least 10 bikes all of similar scrapyard, side of a riverbank quality, being punted with the same sugar coated honey slickness Ive became totally blase and upfront about my opinions.The nicely nicely gently does it approach falls on deaf ears here.
Yesterday I spoke to a mechanic, telling him how utterly fed up I was with being punted bikes that would be better seen as part of a gocart slash submarine on an episode of Scrapheap Challenge and that if he had anything that was worth me looking at that wasnt going to waste my time I'd be more t
han happy to see it. "Oh yes" he say "I have a lovely 2002 model in perfect condition, beautiful nothing wrong with it, lovely paint, perfect". Great! I thought to myself as he totted off to find it and I waited patiently by the side of his tiny garage optimistic that someone might come up with the goods. When he comes back, even before he's thought about lifting his leg off the bike I take one look and see the forks have decided to emulate a set of holy cows horns and are neatly bent under the frame. I smile to myself and say, "The fork are bent under the frame my friend". He looks at me like Ive just walked out of the local asylum and rapped him round the face with a smelly wet trout and says "Theyre not!". Honestly, its desperate, this sort of nonsense seems to be par for the course, and I tell him the forks look like bananas and walk away before he has time to look at me like Ive called him mother something awful.
This seems to be a common theme, Im sure somewhere theres a big warehouse full with banana forked, buckled wheeled, banging, clanging, rattly, broken down bikes with a big flashing yellow and purple sign saying "only for use as submarine slash gocart or for sale to stupid senseless foreigners who happened to leave there brains behind on the plane". It seems to b-791470.jpg)
e some kind of sport of a sort, like a game, but for me its just a really disheartening, slap in the face introduction to the intricacies of motorcycle purchase in India. So as it stands I still have no bike, and being mechanically minded I think its going to take me some time before I find anything that resembles quality motorised transport of a reliable, safe and resaleable nature thats not going to implode or explode,or send me floating into the skies with little wings or scurrying down to his redness below.
So to a change of subject and to the more serious nature of anti malarial medication. I started taking my larium medication for malaria aproximately 2 weeks ago as recommended by the doctor and the instructions on the packet. I really thought nothing of it, I'd taken it in Africa with no problems so there would be no problems here I thought. Wrong! Just for those that dont know, Larium is an anti malairial thats renouned for sending the perfectly sane members of society totally screaming lock me up in a padded cell 
with tranquilisers, bonkers. Well, after my second dose of the stuff I started to feel very odd indeed, like someone had given me a mild to moderate dose of amphetamine and LSD, couple with terrible vivid and realistic nightmares, sweating palms, and a pounding heartrate. I was seeing things in the corners of my eyes that I couldnt quite decide whether I'd seen and feeling very, anxious, paranoid, angry and aggressive towards anyone and everyone. The crunch came on the bus coming up the mountain side to Mcleod Ganj after a day looking for bikes, I simply wanted to attack the person sat next to me for absolutley no reason and jump off the bus while travelling at high speed. The impulse to do this was so very real and strong it was difficult to control it and I knew immediately that something was really very very wrong with me. When I got back I immediately enquired about seeing a doctor. I also did a whole load of research on the web and found numerous reports of people doing all sorts of attrocious t
hings under the influence of this drug. Soldiers murdering their wives, travellers committing suicide, many many things. Whoever markets this drug should be taken to court as its extremely dangerous. After a bit of dredging around I found that the company smudged the research reports to some degree. In these reports they suggest that something like 1 in 10000 people suffer some sort of serious psychosis from taking larium, however an independent report was ordered and found the figure to be actually more like 1 in 150! people affected. What upsets me is how a drug can be allowed on the market that has a non compliance rate like that. One of the problems is also that it has a half life of 2 weeks, which essentially means Im stuck with this for a while. Im just glad I was aware of the possible problems and that I hadnt taken more doses. I just wonder if others are made aware by doctors of exactly what could happen to them? Anyway suffice to say Ive switched my anti malarials and am just allowing this effect to slowly subside, Im ok now in case anyone who knows me is worried but Im pretty upset and dissolutioned by the obvious and transparent link between pharmaceutical profit and general medical care. I mean why give someone this medication when you can give him or her as simple antibiotic alternative with fewer side effects and the same effectiveness at 10% of the price tag! Just doesnt make any sense. In case youre interested heres one of many artciles written on the subject.
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/27/60II/main538144.shtml
So for now Im just taking it easy and recovering. If I dont find a bike here soon Im heading to Delhi and the worlds largest motorcycle market, called Karol Bagh where apparently you have the largest selection of second hand mortorcycles in the world. Should be fun if nothing else. I dont really want to go to Delhi but Im starting to think that I really dont have much choice. So until next time, Namaste, and blessings to you all. Jonny
back yard Enfield workshops and garages in and around Dharamsala. Its hard work, and a real exercise in keeping your cool when dealing with people and their attitude to the money they think youre hiding in your pockets. It seems to me theres just too much disposable tourist money up here coupled with people with little to no idea about motorcycles .This equates roughly to people trying to sell me any old rat bag at hugely inflated prices with a sales patter better placed in a Rolls Royce dealership. At first I was sympathetic to this kind of foolishness, but after seeing at least 10 bikes all of similar scrapyard, side of a riverbank quality, being punted with the same sugar coated honey slickness Ive became totally blase and upfront about my opinions.The nicely nicely gently does it approach falls on deaf ears here. Yesterday I spoke to a mechanic, telling him how utterly fed up I was with being punted bikes that would be better seen as part of a gocart slash submarine on an episode of Scrapheap Challenge and that if he had anything that was worth me looking at that wasnt going to waste my time I'd be more t
han happy to see it. "Oh yes" he say "I have a lovely 2002 model in perfect condition, beautiful nothing wrong with it, lovely paint, perfect". Great! I thought to myself as he totted off to find it and I waited patiently by the side of his tiny garage optimistic that someone might come up with the goods. When he comes back, even before he's thought about lifting his leg off the bike I take one look and see the forks have decided to emulate a set of holy cows horns and are neatly bent under the frame. I smile to myself and say, "The fork are bent under the frame my friend". He looks at me like Ive just walked out of the local asylum and rapped him round the face with a smelly wet trout and says "Theyre not!". Honestly, its desperate, this sort of nonsense seems to be par for the course, and I tell him the forks look like bananas and walk away before he has time to look at me like Ive called him mother something awful.This seems to be a common theme, Im sure somewhere theres a big warehouse full with banana forked, buckled wheeled, banging, clanging, rattly, broken down bikes with a big flashing yellow and purple sign saying "only for use as submarine slash gocart or for sale to stupid senseless foreigners who happened to leave there brains behind on the plane". It seems to b
-791683.jpg)
e some kind of sport of a sort, like a game, but for me its just a really disheartening, slap in the face introduction to the intricacies of motorcycle purchase in India. So as it stands I still have no bike, and being mechanically minded I think its going to take me some time before I find anything that resembles quality motorised transport of a reliable, safe and resaleable nature thats not going to implode or explode,or send me floating into the skies with little wings or scurrying down to his redness below.So to a change of subject and to the more serious nature of anti malarial medication. I started taking my larium medication for malaria aproximately 2 weeks ago as recommended by the doctor and the instructions on the packet. I really thought nothing of it, I'd taken it in Africa with no problems so there would be no problems here I thought. Wrong! Just for those that dont know, Larium is an anti malairial thats renouned for sending the perfectly sane members of society totally screaming lock me up in a padded cell
with tranquilisers, bonkers. Well, after my second dose of the stuff I started to feel very odd indeed, like someone had given me a mild to moderate dose of amphetamine and LSD, couple with terrible vivid and realistic nightmares, sweating palms, and a pounding heartrate. I was seeing things in the corners of my eyes that I couldnt quite decide whether I'd seen and feeling very, anxious, paranoid, angry and aggressive towards anyone and everyone. The crunch came on the bus coming up the mountain side to Mcleod Ganj after a day looking for bikes, I simply wanted to attack the person sat next to me for absolutley no reason and jump off the bus while travelling at high speed. The impulse to do this was so very real and strong it was difficult to control it and I knew immediately that something was really very very wrong with me. When I got back I immediately enquired about seeing a doctor. I also did a whole load of research on the web and found numerous reports of people doing all sorts of attrocious t
hings under the influence of this drug. Soldiers murdering their wives, travellers committing suicide, many many things. Whoever markets this drug should be taken to court as its extremely dangerous. After a bit of dredging around I found that the company smudged the research reports to some degree. In these reports they suggest that something like 1 in 10000 people suffer some sort of serious psychosis from taking larium, however an independent report was ordered and found the figure to be actually more like 1 in 150! people affected. What upsets me is how a drug can be allowed on the market that has a non compliance rate like that. One of the problems is also that it has a half life of 2 weeks, which essentially means Im stuck with this for a while. Im just glad I was aware of the possible problems and that I hadnt taken more doses. I just wonder if others are made aware by doctors of exactly what could happen to them? Anyway suffice to say Ive switched my anti malarials and am just allowing this effect to slowly subside, Im ok now in case anyone who knows me is worried but Im pretty upset and dissolutioned by the obvious and transparent link between pharmaceutical profit and general medical care. I mean why give someone this medication when you can give him or her as simple antibiotic alternative with fewer side effects and the same effectiveness at 10% of the price tag! Just doesnt make any sense. In case youre interested heres one of many artciles written on the subject.http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/01/27/60II/main538144.shtml
So for now Im just taking it easy and recovering. If I dont find a bike here soon Im heading to Delhi and the worlds largest motorcycle market, called Karol Bagh where apparently you have the largest selection of second hand mortorcycles in the world. Should be fun if nothing else. I dont really want to go to Delhi but Im starting to think that I really dont have much choice. So until next time, Namaste, and blessings to you all. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Friday, October 24, 2008 2:54 AM
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Newcastle to India
The flight to Delhi was a long one, but Ive been on worse, New Zealand for example was a monster 30 hour bonanza of stopovers and 12 hour shifts, but then was way back when I didnt have deep lines on my brow, a rickety back and could hack being crunched up sideways in an econonomy airline seat next to a snoring fat man. Fortunately for me it turned out I was sat next to the exact opposite, a beautiful young American woman. I think its safe to say this did absolutely nothing for my ability to relax and concentrate on sleeping and remaining poised and calm for the onslaught of the Delhi chaos only a few hours ahead of me. But Joking aside, in reality the flight was a breeze.Its been a long time since Ive been on a plane and theyve certainly changed, I'd bought a paper and even considered buying a crossword book. Wrong! now you dont need any form of entertainment whatsoever, everything is provided at the touch of a screen in the back of the seat infront of you. I watched the newest releases on film and played backgammon, saw Razorlights most recent concert and saw an episode of cringeworthy friends all from the luxury of my seat, easy, or worrying whichever way you choose to see things. With a 4 hour stopover in the bling capital of bling Dubai, where you can purchase a classic 1960's convertible from the inflight magazine, or buy any kind of anything from the duty free, I nabbed a 1.50 chicken curry (Gorgous, shame on you heathrow airport with your prices and wilted lettuce!) and slept a couple of winks on the carpeted floor alongside an austrian guy and various other nationalities. Seems Dubai is the stopover capital of the world also, Ive never seen so many nationalities, cultures and clothing all getting along so famously, or at least sleeping along side each other so famously.
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I-744639.jpg)
ve seen yet. Out of my window, I'd thought ahead and got myself a window seat, I saw a big bank of clouds on the horizon and then far far way on my left I saw a jagged mountain way abovwe the clouds, the only one and it must have been Everest in Nepal it was so big and so far away, no other mountains look like that and none of the other mountains broke out of the clouds like that either, amazing! Flying certainly is beautiful.
Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,-776341.jpg)
and there are Buddhist monks in full crimson attire everywhere, this is very much a backpacker destination. Dreadlocked Isrealis charge up and down the stray dog streets on trooped up Royal enfield motorcycles, looking like something not too far removed from the motorcyclist from Bat out of Hell. Robed Monks rub shoulders with buisnessmen, tibetan refugees, backpackers, tourists, travellers, you name it its here. The shops -746204.jpg)
are a similar mix of real Tibetan Handricrafts, made by tibetan societies inhouse, and boutiques selling rucksacs, cargo pants, tacky souvenirs and such. This is all separated by fedex bureaus, ticket offices, barbers, scruffy tea shops, restaurants and beautiful Tibetan women selling Momo's. Of course you have the usual freeloading holy cows, stra-752862.jpg)
y bonking dogs, pleading beggars on rackety wooden scateboards, maniacal scooter riders and suicidal jeep drivers. But I gather this is the norm for India, just seems to me like a scruffy old place for his holiness to have his residence to be honest!
One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems-731246.jpg)
strange. Correct me if Im wrong, but isnt buddhism all about loving kindness and compassion. Well, these guys really go for it, stomping feet, slapping hands and at times I have to say I dont really detect that loving kindness so talked about, they seem pretty angry. Seems like this is a kind of sport to me, much bravado, and Im not sure how much of it is a display for the onlookers. But its pretty entertaining stuff. Ive sat with the robed monks during prayers and been served piping hot tea and bread with the other gatherers, followed in the foot-752971.jpg)
steps of little old men and spun the bronze prayer wheels of the Dalai Lamas temple, eaten steaming Momo's from a Tibetan steet seller, yum yum, and searched endlessly for a motorcycle to continue my travels.
To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have -731188.jpg)
a penchance for one of the therapies or yoga schools that seem to have sprung up around and about. Theres a lot of voluntary work about and I think that would be the most fulfilling thing to do up here to be honest. You can work teaching Tibetan people various things from English to IT aside from working on social projects in and around the area. Ive thought about this myself, but I dont really think this is the right time or place for me to be doing that kind of thing. McCleod Ganj in reality -776256.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be.
So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the-745961.jpg)
prices up here are just crazy, crazy and Im sure this is becasue theres too many tourists and disposable money floating around. What you can buy in Delhi for 18,000 IRP costs you double up here, and being a foreigner hikes the price up immediately. Its also frustrating for me not having a working knowledge of these motorcycles, although I can rebuild just about anything I can get my hands on I dont really know what these things should or should not sound like. To me they all sound like a very loud rattly bag of spanners thats about to implode, but maybe thats how they sound. For all the bikers out there the gear shifts on the right on the older bikes ..hmmmhhh.
So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
The last haul into Delhi from Dubai was all of 3 hours and I think I slept most of that which was good because I wanted to feel at least half human to take on the touts, crazed taxi drivers, mountains of forms and chaos everyone warned me about. But, in reality i had none of this. I dont really know what it is about me but people mostly leave me alone. Ive experienced this in most countries where folk tell me to be wary of hassles and chaos. Maybe I look scary or skint, I dont know, but I only had one taxi driver gingerly ask me if I wanted a taxi and that was that.Im sure that will change However I did encounter the usual Indian taste for formality,I was trying to catch the free shuttle bus between the International and domestic terminals and walked out of the terminal towards the bus, once I got to the bus I jumped aboard and was quickly told to get off by a soldier and instructed to walk all the way back through the terminal, through to customs , past various officials, and various gates, to return to the exact spot I started at where they could check my ticket and book me on the bus! Crazyness, I was a step away from the checking office. But nevermind I was grateful to be on a free bus and free of any hassles so all was good. I grabbed a tiny twin prop plane to Dharamsala which bobbed and weaved through some of the most amazing scenery I
-744649.jpg)
ve seen yet. Out of my window, I'd thought ahead and got myself a window seat, I saw a big bank of clouds on the horizon and then far far way on my left I saw a jagged mountain way abovwe the clouds, the only one and it must have been Everest in Nepal it was so big and so far away, no other mountains look like that and none of the other mountains broke out of the clouds like that either, amazing! Flying certainly is beautiful. Once I arrived at the airport I was picked up and taken to a hotel I'd organised and I tried to rest. Strange thing though, the owner of the Hotel kept smiling at me in an odd way and touching my knee while in the taxi. I kind of felt uncomfortable with this but put it down to my stuffy Englishness. The light didnt really shine down on me till I was in my hotel room and he got behind me and started massaging my shoulders and asked me to lie on the bed. Finito! woahhh not nice! I had been warned about this kind of thing but really hadnt expected it to happen just stepping off the plane! I got a real taste of how women feel with this sort of daily bullshit and in that respect it was a great practical lesson but in general a nasty, sleasy, dirty experience and one I dont wish to repeat. So I made plans to leave the next day which I did, to a Tibetan guesthouse, with a bussling community and much more beauty.
Dharamsala, or Mcleod Ganj to be correct, a little hill station above Dharamsala, is a strange mix. I remember Brendan at Lothlorien talking to me with fond memories of it in the late 70's, early 80's. However, knowing Brenadan I think its a very different place to the one he remembers. As much as the Dalai Lama has residence here,
-776526.jpg)
and there are Buddhist monks in full crimson attire everywhere, this is very much a backpacker destination. Dreadlocked Isrealis charge up and down the stray dog streets on trooped up Royal enfield motorcycles, looking like something not too far removed from the motorcyclist from Bat out of Hell. Robed Monks rub shoulders with buisnessmen, tibetan refugees, backpackers, tourists, travellers, you name it its here. The shops -746223.jpg)
are a similar mix of real Tibetan Handricrafts, made by tibetan societies inhouse, and boutiques selling rucksacs, cargo pants, tacky souvenirs and such. This is all separated by fedex bureaus, ticket offices, barbers, scruffy tea shops, restaurants and beautiful Tibetan women selling Momo's. Of course you have the usual freeloading holy cows, stra-744600.jpg){kind=link}
-752885.jpg)
y bonking dogs, pleading beggars on rackety wooden scateboards, maniacal scooter riders and suicidal jeep drivers. But I gather this is the norm for India, just seems to me like a scruffy old place for his holiness to have his residence to be honest! One of the highlights for me has been watching the monks shouting at each other in the coutryard of the temple. Sorry, one of the highlights for me has been watching the monks discussing serious philosphical points with each other in the courtyards of the temple. Now this to me seems
-761490.jpg){kind=link}
-773833.jpg){kind=link}
-731258.jpg)
strange. Correct me if Im wrong, but isnt buddhism all about loving kindness and compassion. Well, these guys really go for it, stomping feet, slapping hands and at times I have to say I dont really detect that loving kindness so talked about, they seem pretty angry. Seems like this is a kind of sport to me, much bravado, and Im not sure how much of it is a display for the onlookers. But its pretty entertaining stuff. Ive sat with the robed monks during prayers and been served piping hot tea and bread with the other gatherers, followed in the foot-752984.jpg)
steps of little old men and spun the bronze prayer wheels of the Dalai Lamas temple, eaten steaming Momo's from a Tibetan steet seller, yum yum, and searched endlessly for a motorcycle to continue my travels. To be honest aside from the Dalai Lama being here at Mcleod Ganj theres not a great deal to do unless you get involved in voluntary work or have
-731203.jpg)
a penchance for one of the therapies or yoga schools that seem to have sprung up around and about. Theres a lot of voluntary work about and I think that would be the most fulfilling thing to do up here to be honest. You can work teaching Tibetan people various things from English to IT aside from working on social projects in and around the area. Ive thought about this myself, but I dont really think this is the right time or place for me to be doing that kind of thing. McCleod Ganj in reality -776275.jpg)
seems to be just another hopping off point on the traveller circuit of India, which I kind of thought it would be. So, for now, Im just getting used to the way of life here and trying to ease myself into India while trying to find a motorcycle to continue my journey. This is proving a little more difficult than I thought it would be as every Tom Dick or Harry wants to sell you a bike,even if the wheels are falling off, the tyres are bald and the engine sounds like its about to shake itself to pieces. Aside from that the
-746149.jpg)
prices up here are just crazy, crazy and Im sure this is becasue theres too many tourists and disposable money floating around. What you can buy in Delhi for 18,000 IRP costs you double up here, and being a foreigner hikes the price up immediately. Its also frustrating for me not having a working knowledge of these motorcycles, although I can rebuild just about anything I can get my hands on I dont really know what these things should or should not sound like. To me they all sound like a very loud rattly bag of spanners thats about to implode, but maybe thats how they sound. For all the bikers out there the gear shifts on the right on the older bikes ..hmmmhhh. So my search continues.With a little research Ive also found out that its a normal operation to put your bike on the train, just wrap in straw and sack and stuff it in the luggage van with all the other crap! Great! This really helps me as the country is huge, distances vast and Royal Enfields SLOW! In effect this means I can tour the different states I want to see and then ship the bike between them at little cost and better care for the environment and my backside! This is a good finding, I can sleep while Im travelling over the vast distances and places I dont wish to see or ride through.
From the little cafe Im sat in I can see the thunder storms and rain crashing down over the mountains, its very beautiful and very wet as you can imagine in the foothills of the Himalayas, so today is a day for writing and doing very little, the roads are muddy the electrics keep failing and mooching about in these storms isnt a sensible option unless your a duck. So until next time many blessings and love to everyone. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 15, 2008 8:48 PM
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Turkey,Switzerland,Scotland
After spending a couple of weeks in the lap of luxury in Switzerland I felt really unsure as to whether I wanted to continue my trip. Somehow I felt tired of travelling and tired of constantly being on the seat a -781447.JPG)
motorcycle with all the concentration and stress involved in travelling in that way. Many days I wished for the lack of responsibility for the bike and the joy of sitting relaxed on a bus or train with no camping gear and only a few possessions. Having to lug my bags on and off and set up camp every day was feeling like a weight rather than a joy and my heart really wasnt leaping at sights and sounds each day. So with a rather confused step I went back to the UK to look at renting a small farmhouse in Dumfries and Galloway and to see just how I felt about being back in the UK and not being on a bike. I guess there are times like this when things just seem quite tricky and you loose your direction and all you want to do is come back home to all the fond memories you dream up in your "the grass is always greener " thoughts.
Well, the farmhouse was indeed very beautiful, set in rolling scottish countryside, way away from any hussle and bussle, quiet and secluded and just round the corner from my friends at Lothlorien. But,it just didnt feel right to be back, I still felt like I needed to move, I missed my bike and my attatchment to everything involved with it. Seems strange and a little cliched to say that the bike had become part of me,part of my identity and my being, but its true , it felt a little strange without it.
So, after a week of looking at the options for staying in Scotland I decided I needed to keep to my path and my plan, so I hopped back on my bike and headed east, a quick stop in Switzerland for a few days and then once again the long ferry journey from Venice to Greece.
I landed in Iguomenitsa on the north east coast with a German biker called Christian. We'd met on the ferry and clicked almost instantly, talking about so many subjects wide and varied subjects from communism, global warming, western lifestyle, religion, possible world solutions and such, sleeping on wild beaches and broken headlands. Th-752110.jpg)
en one day while riding for the port in Athens I had my visor up, much to Christians anoyance and something stung me slap in the middle of my face, God knows what, but boy did it hurt. Had to stop, pull out the offending sting and ride on in quite considerable pain.We kept riding and arrived late at night in Athens and and slept on the port in waiting for the ferry to Chios Island and onto to Cesme in Turkey the next day. H-785480.JPG)
owever when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!
Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time a-765451.JPG)
way from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.
I stayed ten days or so in Turkey, sleeping rough in the mountains and riding dirt tracks through mountain villaes with chickens and hens and kids shouting and waving from windows. I kept heading east as I was aware that by now things were tgetting cold in central Turkey and near the Iranian border almost down to freezing at night. I stopped for a few day-752151.jpg)
s in Capadoccia which is like no place Ive ever seen. Its truly amazing. Think of the star wars landscapes and youve got it. Its too hard to describe, but imagine caves cut into rock formations that are from another planet and youre not far off. Its easiest for me to post the pictures.
While I was in Goreme in Capadocia I started to hear mixed reports of the declining situation in Pakistan. Apparently the goverment was becoming unst-785230.jpg)
able, diplomats children were being sent home and armed escorts were being used on the roads. Now, this didnt dsound good to me, on a bike and having to ride Taftan quetta road near the Afgan border. After checking the foreign office website which confirmed my fears, but then it always does, and with the bombing of the marriott hotel and other overlanders turning back I started to think it might be wise to do -795770.JPG)
the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.
So, after much deliberation and research I decided to come back to the uk and look at my options which is where I am now. Im pleased I decided not to ride across Pakistan and Iran, but I would have liked to have made it at least to India with my bike. So for the last few days Ive been researching what to do back at Lothlorien and the conclusion is to store my bike here as its finacially not feasible for me to ship it to India and I dont have the time ior space to organise freighting and Im flying to India tommorrow (only option thats really viable) and hiring or buying an old Royal Enfield Motorcycle to ride round India and continue this trip. As to whether I can continue on from there I dont know. Its hard to ship Indian bikes out of India now but I will look into the situation as it emerges. For now Im just going to concentrate on riding around India and allow things to develop from there. I may have to do a Charlie Boorman and travel by whatever means possible. So on Friday I will be in Dharamsala and from there I will keep you all posted. Many blessings to you all. Jonny
-782016.JPG)
motorcycle with all the concentration and stress involved in travelling in that way. Many days I wished for the lack of responsibility for the bike and the joy of sitting relaxed on a bus or train with no camping gear and only a few possessions. Having to lug my bags on and off and set up camp every day was feeling like a weight rather than a joy and my heart really wasnt leaping at sights and sounds each day. So with a rather confused step I went back to the UK to look at renting a small farmhouse in Dumfries and Galloway and to see just how I felt about being back in the UK and not being on a bike. I guess there are times like this when things just seem quite tricky and you loose your direction and all you want to do is come back home to all the fond memories you dream up in your "the grass is always greener " thoughts.Well, the farmhouse was indeed very beautiful, set in rolling scottish countryside, way away from any hussle and bussle, quiet and secluded and just round the corner from my friends at Lothlorien. But,it just didnt feel right to be back, I still felt like I needed to move, I missed my bike and my attatchment to everything involved with it. Seems strange and a little cliched to say that the bike had become part of me,part of my identity and my being, but its true , it felt a little strange without it.
So, after a week of looking at the options for staying in Scotland I decided I needed to keep to my path and my plan, so I hopped back on my bike and headed east, a quick stop in Switzerland for a few days and then once again the long ferry journey from Venice to Greece.
I landed in Iguomenitsa on the north east coast with a German biker called Christian. We'd met on the ferry and clicked almost instantly, talking about so many subjects wide and varied subjects from communism, global warming, western lifestyle, religion, possible world solutions and such, sleeping on wild beaches and broken headlands. Then one day while riding for the port in Athens I had my visor up, much to Christians anoyance and something stung me slap in the middle of my face, God knows what, but boy did it hurt. Had to stop, pull out the offending sting and ride on in quite considerable pain.We kept riding and arrived late at night in Athens and and slept on the port in waiting for the ferry to Chios Island and onto to Cesme in Turkey the next day. However when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!
Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time away from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.
-752122.jpg)
en one day while riding for the port in Athens I had my visor up, much to Christians anoyance and something stung me slap in the middle of my face, God knows what, but boy did it hurt. Had to stop, pull out the offending sting and ride on in quite considerable pain.We kept riding and arrived late at night in Athens and and slept on the port in waiting for the ferry to Chios Island and onto to Cesme in Turkey the next day. H-785918.JPG)
owever when I awoke the morning my face had other ideas for travel my eyes had started to shut from the sting and I looked like a clihgon from star trek! I thought about a tip to the doctor but just nipped to the pharmacy and ttook some antihystamines. We did manage to grab the ferry to Chios, but by then my eyes were almost closed and after a night camping on the beach I awoke with both eyes closed and a trip to the hospital in Chios was inevitable. I was put on a cortisone drip and left for 2 hours to recover. A little better I left, slept the night on a beach but over the night my heart started racing like a train and in the morning I feltt like death and another trip to the hospital and another drip and an overnight stay. Apparently the cortizone lowers the blood pressure and increases the heart rate and mine was dangerously low and dangerously fast. I wish they had told me that before they gave me it!Once out of hospital I was on my own again, Christian had to leave the day before as he had only a short time a
-766129.JPG)
way from work. So I caught the tiny ferry to Cesme in Turkey and rode the mediteranean coast to a huge gorge near fethiye where I spent a couple of dats recovering in a treehouse camp. Very touristy but what I needed after two days in hospital.I stayed ten days or so in Turkey, sleeping rough in the mountains and riding dirt tracks through mountain villaes with chickens and hens and kids shouting and waving from windows. I kept heading east as I was aware that by now things were tgetting cold in central Turkey and near the Iranian border almost down to freezing at night. I stopped for a few days in Capadoccia which is like no place Ive ever seen. Its truly amazing. Think of the star wars landscapes and youve got it. Its too hard to describe, but imagine caves cut into rock formations that are from another planet and youre not far off. Its easiest for me to post the pictures.
-752161.jpg)
s in Capadoccia which is like no place Ive ever seen. Its truly amazing. Think of the star wars landscapes and youve got it. Its too hard to describe, but imagine caves cut into rock formations that are from another planet and youre not far off. Its easiest for me to post the pictures.While I was in Goreme in Capadocia I started to hear mixed reports of the declining situation in Pakistan. Apparently the goverment was becoming unstable, diplomats children were being sent home and armed escorts were being used on the roads. Now, this didnt dsound good to me, on a bike and having to ride Taftan quetta road near the Afgan border. After checking the foreign office website which confirmed my fears, but then it always does, and with the bombing of the marriott hotel and other overlanders turning back I started to think it might be wise to do the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.
-785242.jpg)
able, diplomats children were being sent home and armed escorts were being used on the roads. Now, this didnt dsound good to me, on a bike and having to ride Taftan quetta road near the Afgan border. After checking the foreign office website which confirmed my fears, but then it always does, and with the bombing of the marriott hotel and other overlanders turning back I started to think it might be wise to do -795788.JPG)
the same. For me riding alone across Pakistan started to feel like too much of a liability.-772434.jpg){kind=link}
So, after much deliberation and research I decided to come back to the uk and look at my options which is where I am now. Im pleased I decided not to ride across Pakistan and Iran, but I would have liked to have made it at least to India with my bike. So for the last few days Ive been researching what to do back at Lothlorien and the conclusion is to store my bike here as its finacially not feasible for me to ship it to India and I dont have the time ior space to organise freighting and Im flying to India tommorrow (only option thats really viable) and hiring or buying an old Royal Enfield Motorcycle to ride round India and continue this trip. As to whether I can continue on from there I dont know. Its hard to ship Indian bikes out of India now but I will look into the situation as it emerges. For now Im just going to concentrate on riding around India and allow things to develop from there. I may have to do a Charlie Boorman and travel by whatever means possible. So on Friday I will be in Dharamsala and from there I will keep you all posted. Many blessings to you all. Jonny
★ 0 Comments. | Jonny, Wednesday, October 1, 2008 11:35 PM
