‘So many ways to dance upon this Earth:’ Nepal

Tags

buddhism, Enlightenment, Nagarkot, Nepal, Self realisation, The hotel at the end of the universe, Travel, Traveling, Travelling

‘I don’t feel anything,’ I said to my husband as we stood in the midst of a perfect Instagram/Facebook photo opportunity, standing at the top of a viewing platform with the sun rising over the Himalayas.  I felt more about the cat on the wall in Chennai, I thought.  The mountains did their work on me though, even if I didn’t realise it immediately.

We’d set the alarm and got up at six am to walk a short way to a half-finished hotel that had a viewing tower.  Before we went down we did a kind of half-hearted meditation, focussing on our breath whilst looking, half-hearted as it was cold, our feet ached, and there were two other people about.

As the sun rose it lit up little pieces of one peak, then another, then more and more, first tinged pink then lit white and silver.  In front were pine trees, some fuzzy to look at, as if my eyes were blurred, reminding me of the trees I saw in Tokyo.  I saw an animal in a tree, I thought at first it was a monkey, then I realised it was long and slim, more like a big black stoat.  A man back at the hotel later said it was a mongoose.

If you’re looking for enlightenment, The Hotel at The End of The Universe could be a good place to start.  Conversations with the beautifully named Oasis, who owns the hotel, help to shine a little more light upon the path.  The sight of The Himalayas, trees all around and the clean mountain air provide restorative relaxation.  Wooden chalet style accommodation, a restaurant, bar and sunny terrace provide everything you need.

We got back, had breakfast and I stood outside in the sun, near the others but alone, I had to keep moving to stay in a sunny patch.

The others were talking with Oasis, I listened for a while before moving a chair to join them.  Oasis, a Buddhist, seemed to have an easy relationship with death.  Maybe also because of the earthquakes, and the mountains.  ‘So I die,’ he said.  ‘What about the people left behind?’ my husband asked.  ‘Two, three days, then they okay, okay, he die,’ Oasis said.

We all talked about the journey towards self realisation.  I expressed that maybe once you find it* there’s nothing left to do but die, so maybe it’s best not to get there* until death.  Oasis said, ‘You can just enjoy yourself.  There are so many ways to dance upon this Earth.  Drink, don’t drink, it’s all the same.  When you live in the moment you don’t  concern yourself with death.’

The night before he’d played cards with us and two other tourists.  When someone said they wouldn’t be able to play because they were drunk, he said, ‘You’re still the same, it makes no difference.’  There was much laughter that evening with people forgetting it was their turn and getting confused whilst learning a new game.  Oasis sat laughing and smiling like a Buddha.

And during our discussions the next day, he remained so totally centred, even in the midst of disagreements and comments that I perceived as almost rude, although, as I reminded myself later, maybe it’s only rude if you allow yourself to get offended.  ‘Focus on yourself, not what others are doing,’ he said.

‘You have to manage your thoughts, because when you get to a certain level, what you think about, comes.’  I told him that I was at ease with that now, because I felt good and I see how it all works, but that in the past I’d been anxious about that concept, getting into a panicky loop of worrying about fearing and manifesting spiders.

‘That’s why it’s so important to maintain wellbeing,’ I said.  ‘Even a tractor, definitely a dog, and people, operate best when they are ‘well,’ well maintained and happy.’

*although there’s nothing to find and nowhere to get to

A travel blog type bit:

On the way there (Kathmandu to Nagarkot), we paid our guesthouse man to drive us in his car.  We had to pay men at two separate points along on the way up, for the entry, for the road.  It was only a few pounds each time but it was relatively expensive and because it was unexpected it was annoying.  However there is nothing to be done by arguing, we tried!  On the way back we got a bus, these are plentiful and frequent, firstly from Nagarkot to Bhaktapur then Bhaktapur to Kathmandu.  We did not have to pay the extra road/entry charges and the bus fare was way cheaper than a car or taxi.  The bus was bumpy and rather exciting, as was the car, with the sheer drops down the side…

Thank you very much for reading

Photographs taken by my husband 

For more photographs of our trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

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All you have to do is realise it: Nepal

Tags

awareness, Kathmandu, meditation, Nepal, spirituality, Travel, Traveling, Travelling

To people newly arrived from Germany it felt warm, and they wandered around in t-shirts and were bemused at the Nepali people bundled up in their hats, fleeces and North Face quilted jackets.  To us, newly arrived from India it felt very chilly.  During the day outside in the warmth of the sun especially when walking it feels almost hot for a few hours, but the temperature drops quickly as the sun goes down.

Fortunately warm clothes are cheap and plentiful; as well as North Face quilted jackets everywhere there are lots of shops full of winter coats and jumpers, thick leggings, velveteen hoodies and knitted trousers.  There are also numerous discount stores with tables out on the street piled high with plain fleeces, cheerful furry fleeces in bright colors, heavy synthetic blankets and warm hats and socks.  There are piles of thick fleecy bright pink Hello Kitty trousers for babies and toddlers.  I love the fact that warm, practical clothes are everywhere and affordable.  A Nepali man said to us, ‘Cheap, yes, you can get a good jacket for £10.’

The children look absolutely adorable in thick knitted hats with ear flaps.  Many of the women are dressed in sarees or Indian style dresses and trousers with shawls, knitted cardigans, padded anoraks or blankets on top.  Outfits are a juxtaposition of styles and colors with an emphasis on keeping warm.  I love how it all just feels so practical.

Nepali people are famous for being warm and friendly and we have found this to be true.  I’ve seen more women working and had more conversations with women than in India.  I had a sign language conversation with a lovely woman who gave me pieces of orange, I admired her nose stud and we showed each other how many ear and nose piercings we had.  She picked bits of fluff off my fleece and told me in sign language how many children she had, nine.  Nine! I said on my fingers, she stuck out her tongue cheekily.

Our guesthouse, a hostel with some private rooms, is a bit like a homestay, our landlady cooks for us if we want.  She hugs me easily, I love that easy physical familiarity so un-British and which feels so warm.

Food: momos, of course, the most thinnest lightest delicious-ist nan, sabji, veg curry, dhal soup to pour over rice, black eyed beans and beaten rice, like rice flakes.

Pollution is a problem, I use a fabric mask that I bought in Delhi and am operating a one day out one day in kind of routine.  After being out for a long time it can feel almost nauseating and the taste in my mouth is like the day after smoking a lot of cigarettes.

Since arriving in Nepal my husband and I have been meditating every morning, taking it in turns to lead and both feeding back afterwards.  It makes such a difference and I am so happy that we are back on the path together.  I want the quest for self realisation/increasing awareness to be a central part of my life.  We’re always on the path, of course, but it’s easy to talk the talk and not walk the walk.  That ten minutes each morning honours our commitment and permeates the entire day, and it’s only ten minutes!

I’ve almost finished typing up my outstanding notes from our time in Kerala then I will work on getting that section finished.  It’s really long, twice as long as my Thailand section and happily for me contains loads of good material!

I’ve started a new Instagram page under my Sadie Wolf name where I can be free to just express myself about writing and self awareness and so on and as a vehicle to promote the blog and in the future the book.

Instagram: Sadie Wolf so_simple_so_amazing

Thank you very much for reading

Ganesh and the cat

Tags

Cats, India, Pushkar, Rajasthan

This cat often napped in a sunny spot in the outdoor area near our room in Pushkar.  Nearby was a tree, the same one that the monkeys often visited.  Lying or sitting on the big branches the cat was almost perfectly camouflaged due to its coloring.  This was unfortunate for the bird population; Ganesh from the guesthouse said that there used to be so many more birds in the tree, even parrots.

The cat was not at all friendly.  In the evenings it sat on a wall near the entrance to the guesthouse.  My husband tried to stroke it and got scratched- not for the first time on this trip.

When we told Ganesh about this, he looked sorrowfully at us and explained, ‘I have tried so hard to make that cat love me.  As you know there is no meat in Pushkar* so I went on my scooter to (town several kilometres away) and bought fish and chicken especially for the cat.  I fed the cat the chicken and the fish, then I put my hand out and it scratched me!  Then I showed the cat YouTube videos of cats being cats.  The cat watched those videos for twenty minutes, then it scratched me again!  Three times that cat scratched me that day.  I don’t love that cat anymore.’

*No meat, no eggs, no alcohol.  Although there is a restaurant that has eggs and alcohol on the menu, and other places that sell alcohol discreetly.

Thank you very much for reading

Monkeys!

Tags

India, Monkeys, Pushkar, Travel, Travelling

Near the temples by the holy lake is a small courtyard garden area.  One morning my husband saw it when it was full of monkeys, firstly all competing and jostling for positions, then settling down in their spots on the building or in the tree.

Another morning at the same place he saw just a few adults with lots and lots of baby monkeys, like a crèche, the baby monkeys swinging on the wires, doing somersaults and apparently having a great time.

I went back with him a few mornings later, no crèche but the two nearby trees were full of monkeys.  A man warned us not to stand underneath, ‘They may go to the toilet,’ he said.  ‘This is India, everything is out in the open.’

He was from Pushkar but lives in France and runs an Indian restaurant.  Indian restaurants are much less common in France and Germany than the UK because of the language barrier.  Many Indian people can speak  English, which is why there are lots of Indian people in Canada, the US and the UK, and hence we are also extremely fortunate to have so many Indian restaurants and take aways that even a small town will have at least one.

There was a small shrine in the courtyard garden/monkey crèche; the man said he does pooja and leaves offerings to honour his father but the monkeys destroy it, ‘I don’t mind,’ he said.  ‘This used to be all jungle, they were here first.’

There are two types of monkey in Pushkar, the black faced ones with the long tails, and the more stocky, shorter tailed red faced ones.
Both are found out and about in the town, and by the lake where they are fed along with the cows, birds and dogs.

Monkeys seem to enjoy making noise, one day at the lake I watched a succession of monkeys running along the ghats, each one leaping up to slam against a half open metal door that banged loudly shut before springing open ready for the next monkey to do the same, apparently just for fun.

At the guesthouse the arrival of monkeys is announced by the sound of them jumping heavily across corrugated metal roofs, a sound like firecrackers or thunder.

The black faced monkeys are welcome at the guesthouse, and do not cause any trouble, generally staying in the trees and coming down onto the flat roofs to be fed puri or left over chapatis from the restaurant.  ‘They are family friends.’ Ganesh from the guesthouse told us.

Both types of monkeys sometimes go up and down the stairs to the rooftop and garden like guests, but the red faced monkeys are braver and bound unafraid into the area right outside the rooms.  The red faced monkeys are disliked by the staff, who chase them with sticks.  Ganesh told me that these monkeys can be aggressive to humans, ‘make trouble’ for the black faced monkeys, and fight badly amongst themselves.

When I was sitting outside typing, Ganesh came to stand beside me with a stick. ‘I come to protect you.’  ‘Be careful, they come, you move,’  Ganesh calls the red faced monkeys ‘Donald Trump’ because they are always fighting.  The other, nice monkeys he calls ‘Barack Obama.’

In the interest of balance, I should say that Aloo Baba (see previous post), who lives in the desert and has planted lots of trees over the years, prefers the red faced monkeys, as he says the black faced monkeys jump around in the trees too much and break the branches.

In December we go back to Hampi, where there are monkeys everywhere in the town and in the temples.  People feed them bananas and coconut and except for them coming into your room and taking things that they think might be food, they are not scary.

Thank you very much for reading

Pushkar Babas

Tags

Aloo Baba, Babas, India, Potato Baba, Pushkar, Pushkar Lake, Rajasthan

Accepting the offer of a cup of coffee or chai and sitting down for a chat or just to spend some time together with the Babas at the lake was one of my favourite experiences in Pushkar.  Most even have paper cups so you don’t need to worry about hygiene, and the pots and pans are kept very clean as the fire is considered holy and cooking a spiritual practice.  Some speak English, some don’t, sometimes a passing friend will act as an informal translator, or if not it’s okay to just sit.  Their home is their temple, respectful visitors remove their shoes, do not take photographs without asking, and offer something; money, blanket, ghee, milk, food, either at the time or as a gift at the end of one’s stay in Pushkar.

Naga Baba (above)

Naga Baba who is currently staying by Pushkar Lake, went to live with a Baba when he was ten years old.  Apparently sometimes parents give their child to a Baba to give thanks for help they have received.  Naga Baba can lift great weights with his penis.  ‘If you meditate for fifteen years, you become very strong.’

Ram Dass (above)

Ram Dass was taken in by a temple at the age of seven when his parents died.  He has lived by the lake for ten years.  Like Naga Baba he lives out in the open.  He cooks his meals and makes chai on his holy fire which never goes out.  He built the fire pit himself, and built a second one while we were there.  He is preparing to move into a small tunnel like a cave under the bridge, at nights during the winter.  In the hottest months of the summer he goes to stay with other Babas in the Himalaya mountains.  He mediates every morning from three to six am, meditating on all the world and all the people.  ‘That is my work.’

Aloo baba (above)

A few miles outside Pushkar is Aloo Baba (potato baba), he has eaten only potatoes for the past thirty five years.  Now in his seventies he looks fit and well and says he still walks up the nearby mountain to keep fit.  As well as advocating physical work to make and keep the body strong, he also believes in control.  Control eating- hence the potatoes, which he cooks with salt and a little chilli; control speech, and control looking:  ‘Every woman is my mother or my sister.’  ‘No family, God life or family life, can’t have both.’

 

Towards the end of our stay I did see a female baba in Pushkar, presumably newly arrived amongst several other ‘new’ Babas we had seen here for the upcoming festival.  Ganesh from the guesthouse told us that there are Western women Babas in Varanasi, ‘As white as you,’ he said to me.  ‘And do they also sleep outside?’  I asked.  ‘Yes.’  ‘Are they safe?’  ‘Yes.’

Thank you very much for reading

The cows of Pushkar

Tags

Cows, Cows in India, Pushkar, Street cows

The cows of Pushkar

I think these are my favourite cows so far, with their long tails with their tassle at the end, their floppy ears and their huge curly horns.  The cows here are well fed and very big.  The calves (really I want to say baby cows) have thick ruffled grey coats and with their big ears look almost like donkeys.

As with everywhere I’ve been in India, the cows eat out of garbage and eat plastic bags.  Here I’ve often seen them eating big pieces of cardboard.

In the back streets and at the bridge near the lake, women sell armfuls of green stuff for people to feed the cows.  In the town stall holders put food down for the cows, and cafes give them the first chapatis and dosas of the day.  On the ghats by the holy lake little stalls sell plates of corn (looks like unpopped pop corn), different types of grain, and little ‘cakes’ for people to buy to give to the cows.  There is always corn on the ground, and on a busy day the metal tables in the last picture resemble an informal buffet.

Birds, including pigeons and the sweet songed little birds with yellow beaks are fed from outside shops and restaurants, and the corrugated iron roofs near the lake are thick with corn and pigeons.

Street dogs wait patiently outside cafes at the end of the day to be fed.

People everywhere feed the monkeys.

And I mustn’t forget the pigs and piglets!

 

Thank you for reading

Personal update

Thank you for your good wishes, healing, and prayers.  My son had his dental surgery today.  All went well and he is so pleased that he went through with it.

Thank you xxxx

Sab kuch milega: Anything is possible

Tags

Anything is possible, Couchsurfers, India, Inspiration, Inspirational people, Pushkar, Sub kuch milega, Travel, Travelling, Workstay

Sab kuch milega: Anything is possible

 

Pushkar, Rajasthan, India

Drinking ginger lemon tea at a street stall we met a man from Spain, aged forty-four, who has spent the past year cycling from Spain to India.  He is doing it all on a tall bike, the height of two bicycles put on top of each other.  He camps, which he tries to do after dark as he attracts so much attention and interest from the locals, albeit all positive.  He showed us a photograph of a big group of local people who had come to his camp to meet him, to see how he cooks, and to ask questions about his bike and his trip.  Arriving tired and wanting to wash and rest he often has curious visitors descend on him, who also arrive early the next morning and wake him up; although upon opening the tent to see lots of smiling faces peering at him he said it was impossible to be annoyed.  See his blog, it is in Spanish but WordPress offers a translate button.

On the bus we met H, an English woman aged thirty-one who has been away from the UK for seven years, teaching English in Spain for a few years but otherwise travelling using work stay and couchsurfers, (next stop Australia. (hosting a couch surfer also sounds great, scroll down the couchsurfers page to read a host’s view, it brought a tear to my eye!)  This was H’s fifth time in India, she said that often when travelling on buses she is the only foreigner, and her experience has been safe and positive.  We have met lots of solo female travellers and they have all said the same thing, despite the horror stories.  M, a young woman from New Zealand said that her experience had been that Indian people only want to check she’s okay.

H introduced us to J, a twenty-five year old man from Scotland, he has been away from home for four years, again using work stay, doing the online marketing for a trekking company in Nepal, building clay ovens, volunteering, and occasionally spells in a ‘proper job’ earning money for the next stage.

At our guesthouse we met a Spanish couple in their forties who come to India regularly as he buys fabric and has bags made which he then sells to tourists in the Canaries where they live.  He just looks to make enough money, not loads, and manages okay.

Also at our guesthouse we met a British man, fifty-two years old, who spent fifteen years living and working in Japan, first as a DJ in a gentleman’s club, then teaching English to kindergarten kids.  He then worked at a bar in Thailand, the job came with free meals and accommodation.  When that ended he returned to the UK, working most of the year and then travelling for a few months in South East Asia during the winter.  This is the fifth UK winter that he has missed.  He has now got it so that his pattern is six months in the UK working, six months travel, via careful budgeting.  ‘I’m a hermit, when I’m in the UK, I don’t go out.’

We met a mother and son, aged ten, from France travelling for a year, they’ve been to Malaysia, Indonesia, French Polynesia; after India they go to Myanmar, Thailand, then have to choose between Cambodia, Laos and The Philippines.  ‘A year is so short,’ he said, and told me he’d met a family with kids aged four, seven and ten who were travelling around the world on a boat for six years.  ‘So much time,’ he said.  He did his studies happily on a tablet in the restaurant, and proudly showed us his worksheets.

At the local juice bar we met a man from Austria who said he was in India for the winter with his partner and children aged two and four.  He said they’ve been good with the food- although they can spot French fries and Fanta on menus!- and their guesthouse has a big outdoor space where they can play.  Next they are going to Goa for the rest of the winter where they have friends, and there is even a kindergarten for the Western kids.  He said, ‘It’s great because here I have time for them, at home I’d be at work, but here, there’s nothing to do.’  ‘I know, the only thing to think about is, do I need to do my laundry, or do I need some shampoo,’ I said.  ‘Yes, go to the Himalaya shop, that’s it,’ he said and we both laughed.

At our guesthouse we met P, a thirty-four year old woman from Costa Rica who came to India to do a yoga and meditation course and is now doing educational and inspirational videos on YouTube.  Up until recently she was married with a house, a business, two cars and all the trappings of what is thought of as a successful life.  Despite this she wasn’t happy; she separated from her husband, dismantled her business, sold the house and cars, and went off to California to trim marijuana plants.  ‘But you have a doctorate!’ her parents said, but she went anyway.  Right now she is volunteering with rescued elephants in Rajasthan, India, and making her videos.

Also at the guesthouse we met A from Portugal, thirty-three, it was her fifth time in India.  She is an organic farmer and showed us beautiful photographs of figs, of which she grows many different varieties, avocados and glossy purple aubergines.  Together with other environmentally minded people she has successfully persuaded her local authority to vote to protect her local environment, not working along political lines, just to protect nature.  She comes to India for the spiritual and healing aspects, and says she comes here as often as she can when her business is quiet; ‘When the trees are asleep.’

Travel update

In Pushkar until 15th November, then to Delhi, briefly, then to Nepal for two weeks.

Thank you very much for reading

See you next week

Tokyo Part Two

Tags

awareness, Clothes, mindfulness, Personal growth, Smartphone free life, spirituality, Tokyo, Tokyo fashion, Travel, Travel writing, Travelling, writing

Not all those who wander are lost: Tokyo (Extract of Draft Chapter for book)

The clothes were subtle, stylish and just so Japanese, exactly like I would have expected if I had thought about it. During the week lots of office wear, the men in suits with white shirts, the women in black pencil skirts and white or cream pretty blouses. I noticed that the 7/11s and similar stores sold not just tights and stockings but also ties and men’s white office shirts. On Sunday clothes were a bit different, I saw lots of women in wide leg slightly cropped trousers, mainly black, navy or taupe. I saw two women in smart clinging wool skirts, like soft office wear.

There were lots of smocked blouses with puff sleeves; long smocks like artists smocks; long dresses with dungaree tops in taupe or black, and loose cotton trousers that would be perfect for India. Lots of almost 1940s style print dresses, often brown but sometimes in blue, long, high neck, buttoned. Just above the knee sticky out skirts with net underneath with cute blouses; and longer dresses with circle designs and asymmetrical hems. And one evening I saw a woman dressed up like a doll in a big bright pink lacey dress with laced up bodice.

Because most people I saw were so smartly dressed, I noticed when I saw a man wearing old work trousers and a holey t shirt. The men’s work trousers I saw were made out of thick heavy cotton, and in a wrap around style. I also saw a man dressed Andy Warhol style in high waisted black trousers with a tight black sweater tucked in.

On the Metro I saw young people wearing T shirts with a zip pouch pocket at the front, I wanted one of those but didn’t find one.

I went shopping at UNIQLO. I had actually heard of this when I was in the UK, and then B confirmed that it was good and cheap. It was situated at the top of a mall, within walking distance from my hostel. It was such a neat, orderly and peaceful shopping environment. Wandering around I couldn’t help thinking what my punky teen/twenty something self would have thought of all this… Peaceful simplicity, is what it seemed like to me now. The clothes were functional, conventional and plain, except a few stripes or spots. The colors were moss, navy, black, white, taupe, brown, white, cream, grey.

There were lots of black trousers, t shirts, long sleeved tops, jumpers and a big section of loungewear. As Tokyo was coming into winter it wasn’t easy to find things that were thin enough for India, which would still be hot when I went back. Even so I couldn’t help running my hands longingly over fleece lined hoodies, fake fur snoods and scarves and even fake fur bags and purses. It was ridiculous but the idea of shopping for winter was kind of tempting.

At the changing rooms I was given a hood, made out of thin white material (like the facing material inside collars). This was to put over the head to stop makeup getting on the clothes being tried on, which I thought was a good idea. I bought two tops, smock like with three quarter length sleeves, one navy, one taupe; a pair of wide leg trousers, too hot for India really but fitted so nicely, and a pair of comfy sweat pants, also too thick for India, but Tokyo was cold and I couldn’t resist. When the sun shone it was very hot but when it rained it was cold and at my hostel the ac kept it on the cool side. I had the trousers turned up, they did free one hour alterations, even for clothes at a budget price, and everything done with impeccable customer service.

After Uniqlo I asked at tourist information for directions and went shopping for presents. I found the mall and the shop and managed to buy everything I wanted, and found my way home without looking at a map.

When I was out with B we bought snacks from the mini marts, B showed me what I could eat, rice triangles wrapped in seaweed, little pots of sticky soya beans, and my absolute favourite, tofu rolls, filled with rice and wasabi. I discovered even more in my local shops, miso and tofu salad and cooked chunks of soft pumpkin in pouches which I ate for lunches.

Even including breakfast cake compromises there didn’t seem like there was much to eat; there was enough but not loads to choose from or be tempted by. I did a lot of walking and managed to lose a little weight.

Most of the time in the evening I ate at the same place, on my second day the woman had understood me asking for vegetarian and been really friendly and helpful, showing me the menu cards that had English on and showing me how to choose and put the money in; you had to choose and pay at the front and hand the order ticket to the staff. I always had the same dish, noodles, seaweed, Japanese leeks which were tiny, strong and oniony, in a broth with thick triangular slabs of tofu.

One evening after dinner I went for a walk, past the amazing office buildings, my favourite was a huge glossy white sided building that rose up from the pavement like the side of a ship, and was a landmark for me. After the big office buildings, into the restaurants area, I saw a big multi floored pink building. A pink building! I stopped and stared; I saw a sign, it was a music school.

On the way back I saw a big rat, I’d seen a rat in Bangkok and lots in India and wasn’t afraid, just a little startled when it ran back and forth across the pavement in front of me.

At the end of one of the side streets near the hostel was a tiny pale pink faded apartment at the top of a neutral coloured building. A metal fire escape ran from the top down to the bottom. I changed my mind from the Gaudi mosaic apartment building, I’d live there instead.

I walked to meet B in Shinjuku East Side Square, actually not that far from the Uniqlo but the route was different. Uniqlo had been more or less straight following the Shinjuku gardens, which meant I only had to check the route every now and again, but this involved many little twists and turns which meant I had to hold my tablet and follow the blue dot all the way there. I got the map directions up at the hostel then it carried on working even while I was out and about with no internet.

On my route I saw apartment buildings from a different view, from side roads and little alleys, from down flights of steps, above me the apartment blocks, so many apartments packed neatly in.

It was a sunny day and the sky was blue above the grey and pale fawn buildings. I concentrated on remembering landmarks, a blue bridge, an animal hospital. Further on were smarter buildings, a huge one like a big city office block but it was actually apartments. It looked like the side of a spaceship, dark grey, all these little apartments, so many rows, so many columns, so many deep, I tried to count them but it made my head spin.

At the crossing I got confused, a Japanese man asked me if I needed help. ‘Cross over, turn left, look up, and you’ll see it, big building,’ he said. B had sent me a photo of Shinjuku East Side Square, one of the buildings was white, made of sleek shiny white bricks, which interlocked and overlapped to make gaps and textures, and was instantly recognisable. The man was right, I could see it from where he said, about half way there, and I was able to follow it as I followed the blue dot back into side streets and alleys again.

Down a quiet little street I saw a row of three open umbrellas hung up on the outside wall of a house. Each was a different shade of light pink, it looked like an art installation. The umbrellas and a few bits of laundry hung up on balconies were the only color. Seeing the backs of houses and the little details such as little plants in pots set out on the back doorsteps of houses, it felt like I was seeing real life behind the scenes.

A little further on, down another alleyway, amongst buildings which seemed to all be different shades of cream, I saw some brightly colored delivery crates outside the back of a shop. Red, green and yellow, the only color in that scene.

Shinjuku square, with its big modern buildings outside and shops and cafes inside, was beautifully designed; big circles, small circles, ovals, spirals. In the centre was a teardrop shaped pond. B told me that things are inspired by nature and designed with meaning, so that the pool might be the shape of a raindrop, for example, as well as having a spiritual meaning.

This was the first time I had watched and followed the blue dot the whole time all the way somewhere. I noticed how much it distracted me from being mindful and from noticing things in my environment. I usually have enough to do with noticing, remembering and thinking about things I see, as well as noticing and processing feelings and emotions and maintaining a level of awareness. Following the blue dot really took my attention away, let alone what it would have been like if I’d had a smart phone with notifications, messages etc.

As I had my tablet with me, I thought about taking photographs, but it just felt like another thing to do and think about when I already felt distracted. I could see though that I could really enjoy taking photographs, I do notice little pieces of beauty, but I can’t do everything, or not all at once anyway…

Travel update

In Pushkar until 15 Nov, then overnight bus to Delhi, then Delhi for one night then fly to Nepal for two weeks.

Writing update and Changes to Blog

Writing draft wise, I have now completed Thailand and Tokyo, and am back in India, which feels much easier. Whilst I am settled somewhere easy, I’m going to set aside some time to work on an old unfinished chapter, about our time in Kerala. Although it’s easier and more enjoyable to write about more recent places, Kerala will only get further away and less easy to tackle!

Then I will go back to the beginning, add any corrections or additions already identified, and send each draft chapter to B to read. Of course I am also keeping notes about the present as it unfolds, to return to once the other work is completed.

Thank you so much for indulging me during these past months of me not really doing a blog but just posting draft chapters up every week, often very long. Thank you so very much for reading and commenting, your support and feedback has helped me so much.

For the blog, from next week I will embrace being a blogger and just give myself and the blog free rein to do our own thing.

Thank you very much for reading

See you next week