Ta Van, Sa Pa, Vietnam

Tags

mindfulness, Minimalism, Sapa, spiritual memoir, TaVan, Travel, Travel memoir, Travel writing, Vietnam, Voluntary simplicity, writing

 

The two photographs directly above were of the view from the back of the rooms.  It was the first time I had been so close to rice terraces.  Sitting outside on a stool in a sunny spot, just looking at the scenery, watching ducks splashing about, was better than television.

It was advertised as a homestay but was actually more like a hostel, and appeared hastily and cheaply constructed.  The ‘rooms’ were separated by thin wooden boards, with gaps in, so that we could hear and almost see into each other’s rooms.  The stairs were open, thin, slippery planks at slanted angles, with splintery wood on the side walls.  Everything was made out of unfinished pallets, the shelves and the bed base, the tables and benches in the dining room, the sun loungers and stools outside.  There was nowhere comfortable to sit.

Fortunately they hadn’t skimped on the mattresses, which were thick and very comfortable, with a cosy duvet, a mosquito net and an electric blanket (Sa Pa is in the hills and is relatively chilly at night), which made up for everything.

Ta Van provided us with four days of fresh air, peace and tranquillity.  Sitting in the dining area looking across the road, I saw a woman hanging out tiny baby clothes.  ‘Ahh, so tiny!’  I said in my head as she pegged out a tiny waistcoat, and wondered if she were thinking the same.  I assumed she was the baby’s grandmother; later I saw her go out again, the baby on her hip, and move the washing around as the sun changed position.

As I looked out at the washing hanging in the sun, the music in the top picture was playing in the dining room.  I felt such peace and contentment.  I wanted to catch it, and not just in my notebook.  I asked my husband to take a photograph of the washing, and the woman at the counter found the music on YouTube for me.

Travel info/update

We have six weeks in Vietnam altogether and are going North to South, beginning in Hanoi and ending in Ho Chi Min.  We spent nine days in Hanoi.  Then luxury minibus five to six hours to Sapa, then half hour by taxi to Ta Van.  Then same journey back to Hanoi, then a night train to Dong Hoi, where we spent a peaceful four days.  Then a short journey to Hue, where we have been for five days.  On Sunday when this posts we have a long day time train journey to Nha Trang.

Thank you very much for reading

About the author

Sold house left job decluttered almost everything else.  With husband went travelling for a year, mostly in India.   Here are my India highlights.  Currently in Vietnam.  Returning to the UK in three weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

For more photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

 

Kolkata to Varanasi by train

Tags

Bojack Horseman, happiness, Incredible India, India, Indian train journeys, Kolkata, Love India, mindfulness, Netflix, Safety, Travel

Draft book chapter

We got a taxi to the train station which gave us a view of Kolkata whilst being insulated inside our ac car.  We passed steel shops full of pipes and sheets of steel, lots of small trade or industrial units, like the auto parts area of Chennai.

There was the odd newly painted or well maintained building that stood out amongst the grey.  Pavement stalls sold basic provisions; I saw a stallholder sitting on the floor measuring out handfuls of rice or flour with his hand into newspaper packets.

We saw a big metal bridge, and huge grand colonial buildings, one big and red, they seemed to be mainly banks.

Kolkata train station was busy outside and in.  There was a big board with all the trains on, we were early and there was nothing about our train yet.  We went into a food place, it had a quieter seating area upstairs that was calm.  The manager came up to us and shook my husband’s hand, and asked us for our order; he looked a little crestfallen when we only ordered veg fried rice, a safe staple for travelling.

‘See, there’s always someone,’ my husband said.  Always in India there seemed to be someone who offered help or came to befriend or talk to us.

The station master told us which platform.  Our train was called The Doon Express, which sounded like something from Harry Potter.

The station wasn’t really that bad after all.  I’d been preparing myself, having watched the film Lion, but actually, after having food and then going back down and hanging about, it wasn’t as hectic as I’d thought.

There were a few dogs lying down, just sleeping right in the middle amongst where people walked.  There were lots of people on blankets, not sleeping rough, just encamped waiting for trains.

The colours of Kolkata station seemed to be navy blue.  A woman in a navy blue kurta and blue leggings, another woman dressed all in navy blue with a white scarf; a Sikh man wearing a navy blue velvet turban.

On the platform itself, it was dirty and dusty.  The train was delayed so we had a bit of a wait.  A man hung around us and stared at us a lot, in the end my husband shouted at him to go.  I felt uncomfortable, but it seemed like he was after money rather than being a threat.  There was an Indian man standing near us, and I felt as if he would have helped had we needed.  Another Indian man asked my husband about the train; although we were at the correct platform, we’d been advised to keep listening to the announcements as platforms can be changed at any time, which meant no one was 100% certain.  It meant we made a connection with someone on the platform.  I bought water from the platform kiosk and the man was super friendly which further reassured me.

There was a big queue for the regular class, people with big plastic drums, I didn’t know what of, food stuff, containers of possessions, goods?

We saw a fellow tourist and thought we were probably in the same class, and walked up the platform in the same direction as him.

Anthony the waiter had booked our tickets before we started booking our own.  We were in three tier, which is a step down from two, with shabby looking chains and no curtains.

A family got on, they seemed really hesitant to sit down, I wondered if it was because the women and girls didn’t want to sit next to my husband; he moved, we tried to offer to move places, us to move to the two side beds, allowing them the whole bay with the set of four beds, but we weren’t able to communicate with each other.

Just before the train left most of their party got off anyway as they were just saying goodbye, and some of the others went off to seats elsewhere.

A grandmother from a different family with a baby came to see us, ‘Say hi,’ she said to the baby.  She gave me the baby to hold, nonchalantly.  The baby’s parents came to chat.  They explained that they were a party of eight on a thirty-six hour journey to visit a Hindu pilgrimage site.  A family with a tiny baby, on a thirty six hour train journey, that’s how important their religion is.

We showed the family pictures of where we had stayed in Kolkata, the Grandmother’s face was a picture; they didn’t share our enchantment with the old buildings.

The baby was after the mum’s glasses.  The Grandmother tried to encourage the baby to take my husband’s glasses when he wasn’t looking.  She called us Grandfather and Grandmother to the baby.  ‘Not Auntie and Uncle?’ I asked, ‘No no, Grandfather, Grandmother,’ she said firmly.  Fair enough, okay, we’re old enough.

The woman, the baby’s mum, pointed at my Om pendant and asked me if I knew what it meant.  I gave a solid explanation and she nodded and seemed satisfied.  ‘Why are you going to Varanasi?’ she asked.  Indian people can be very direct.  My husband answered that one.  ‘India is one of the holiest countries in the world, and Varanasi is one of the holiest places in India, and the feeling you get from being in such a place is something we really appreciate, even though we aren’t Hindus.’

The family chatted to us for ages then left.  It was so sweet of them.  ‘Do you think they all just decided to come and talk to us? That they said to each other, let’s go and talk to them?’  My husband said.  We were the only foreigners we could see in our carriage.  Often when travelling on the train it was the same; we often wondered how the foreigners got to places.

I finished my blog and then we watched Netflix.  Like reading people’s blogs, Netflix provided a continuity, a thread that held me, wherever we were.

The comfort of watching BoJack Horseman together on my husband’s tablet.  As the silky intro music came on, languid with a sound like bubbles popping, I felt a wave of emotion and my eyes almost filled up.

‘Wherever you go, that’s where you are.’*  That’s true.  My white room in Harleston, my husband had gone out, I had stayed in feeling ill with a cold, and was cosy and happy watching endless BoJack; that music, the colours…  Every hotel room, every place.  The only thing I’m homesick for, is here.

I brushed my teeth and got into bed, my husband checked the chains to reassure me before I climbed up.  There was a clean white cotton sheet and a thick heavy charcoal woollen blanket.  I folded my scarf lengthwise and hung it over the chains which were covered in vinyl sleeves.

I lay there, I felt the train, lots of shaking and movement, and relaxed.  I felt myself come back into India, and India come back into me.  Moving, clanking, like gears, like a chiropractor, like my body assimilating into India again, adjusting.  I felt safe, and I slept.

At four am the half of the family that were seated elsewhere came to the half that were near us, started chatting with each other and woke us up.  At five am they got off and more people got on, people just talking normally with no concession to people sleeping.  ‘This is India,’ we had to tell ourselves.

At six am I gave up trying to go back to sleep up and got up.  I went to the loo and afterwards I stood looking out of the door- at least one of the doors are usually wide open on the trains.

Outside there was miles and miles of green.  There were derelict buildings, some being used as dwellings.  In the middle of the expanse of green there was a little gold temple.  I felt India say to me, ‘I got you.’  I wasn’t afraid anymore, and all the love was back.

Thank you very much for reading

*Jon Kabat-Zinn

About the author

Sold house left job decluttered almost everything else.  With husband went travelling for a year, mostly in India.   Here are my India highlights.  Currently in Vietnam.  Returning to the UK in three weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

Kolkata

Tags

Incredible India, India, Kolkata, Love India, Travel, Traveling, Travelling

Extracts of draft chapter for book

I arrived at Kolkata airport at one am.  I had a minor hiccup at immigration with not having the full address of the guesthouse- I hadn’t picked up my husband’s text- and then I was through.

I saw my husband outside and headed out, he wasn’t where I thought he’d be as he had walked to meet me.  We had a big hug.  It felt slightly surreal, us both being tired from our journeys, and the fact that one day I’m in Japan and he’s in Cambodia and then the next we’re back in India together.  It’s such a miracle, travelling.

It still felt warm, even at one am.  There was a kiosk open over the road; my husband had been there earlier, when he’d arrived.  I got food but wasn’t really hungry; I felt wired, kind of fatigued but not feeling sleepy.  There was a steep bank and steps on the same side as the kiosk, with lots of people sitting with suitcases and people laying and sleeping on the steps.  We met up with my husband’s Uber driver, and then we were off.

My first impression of Kolkata, which surprised me, was lots of bright lights.  A strip of blue lights on the road, very snazzy, and big smart brightly lit buildings; including one which in my sleep-deprived state I thought said ‘Government Enlightenment Institute,’ (was actually Engineering.)

I’d forgotten about the signs- only in India- ‘Give blood but not on the road.’

Then we came to run down buildings, then very run down, I saw a thin cow eating out of garbage, and nearer our guesthouse lots of people sleeping outside, and cycle rickshaws.  People were asleep on the top of taxis and just on the pavement in the open.

Our guesthouse was a beautiful grand old building with marble stairs and lots of wrought iron.  One of the staff had stayed up to let us in.

Our room was big with two fans and one double, one single bed.  It was clean enough although it smelled a bit musty.  I saw tendrils of mould growing under the beds, from the floor up the wall a good few inches, like thick embossed wallpaper in the shape of knobbly little trees.

There was a shared bathroom with a padlock and a key, ‘No one much else about though,’ my husband said.  The bathroom had blue dolphin tiles on the wall, and an orange bucket.  It reminded me of my old bathroom in my house before last, which also had blue dolphin tiles, and orange walls the same colour as the bucket.

The room was very hot, and the wet from the shower was quickly replaced by the wet of sweat in minutes.  We spent most of the time covered in a layer of sweat, which was especially itchy at the back of the knees.  One window was broken in places, there was no mosquito mesh so we had to be careful with opening the shutters and windows.
It was a big room so I could do stretches, vs Tokyo where I could only do a few stretches at the wash basins, if there was no one about.

When we went out, my husband told me to look out for the bumps in the road, like invisible sleeping policemen, that would otherwise trip you up.  There were hand and bicycle rickshaws on the corner near our guesthouse.  The rickshaw drivers offered once but were not pushy.

We got a bicycle rickshaw to Sudder Street, which is meant to be the backpacker area.  Watching a man’s sweat and muscles take us along was a challenge to my natural sensitivities and conditioning.  But a bicycle rickshaw was a great way to experience the narrow streets.  The view was super sensory overload, so busy, loads of tiny shops, birds nests of wires, again; and meat, ‘Don’t look right, look straight ahead,’ my husband said a couple of times.  He said I looked like a rabbit in the headlights.  ‘Maybe something easier would have been better for my day of return,’ I said. ‘I don’t think there is anything easier,’ he said.

Sudder Street was very busy and crowded, there was a long street market, with stalls selling cotton Indian dresses, cheap scarfs, piles of thin bright coloured Indian women’s trousers, and lots of Indian people shopping.

Then we were almost caught up in a huge queue, which we found out was going into a new shopping centre with an opening day sale.  It was not flashy, it looked like a 1980s UK shopping centre.  We wanted to say, No no no don’t do it, but that’s not how it works, as my husband says, everyone’s got to experience it for themselves, it’s no good us who have had it all telling people who haven’t not to bother (with capitalism, consumerism, and stuff.)

There didn’t seem to be anything in between chicken sticks and street food, and posh restaurants.  We went into a restaurant, posher than we’d normally go to, inside it looked more like a bar or a nightclub, and ate veg curry, rice and dal.

It was too hot to do more, so we walked through the crowds and negotiated a cab out of there.  I was amazed that my husband had been to Sudder Street already; he’d arrived a few hours before me and gone to look for a different guesthouse, as ours wasn’t really near food etc., but he said the rooms he looked at were horrible; damp, and expensive.  Plus Sudder street was crazy, as I saw for myself; I didn’t mind not staying there.

We found somewhere within walking distance for dinner, again, posher than we’d normally go.  I noticed white rabbits around in the form of bins, one grey with dust and age, one almost white.  In the restaurant area, which was opposite a market and where festival preparations were taking place, a man said, ‘Hello,’ and ‘Welcome.’

At the table next to ours was an Indian woman unselfconsciously taking tens of selfies while waiting for her food.

On the walk from the restaurant to our guesthouse we passed little houses on the pavements, proper homes with cooking set ups outside, a community with neighbours, and people washing at standpipes.

We went out to get my thyroid medication, we searched online for a good pharmacy and then went looking on foot, without breakfast.  We ended up going a long time without food or drink in the heat, a mistake again like our first day in Chennai.  The fourth pharmacist was able to help and I bought a three month supply to last the rest of the trip.  The pharmacist asked what we did for a living back home, ‘We’re in the same business,’ he said.

Tokyo to Kolkata was SUCH a shock to the system.  Walking down the main road it was so busy, with lots of people asking us for money, children following and tugging on our sleeves, young women and girls saying hi.  If we stopped still for a moment we got approached.  We reached a big junction, decided the idea of crossing was too crazy and turned back.  There were pavement dwellers right on the main road, right by the pollution from the road; so many people, my heart did swell up a little.

We didn’t have anywhere like Chennai with our chai stall, our coffee stall, our juice bar, our breakfast cafe and our restaurant for the evening, (plus loads of other options available), all of which had been found within the first twenty-four hours, but in spite of the lack of food, I was happy with our area.

The buildings epitomised the descriptive phrase ‘faded grandeur.’  One with newly painted shiny maroon shutters stood out.  The details of the buildings were still there, the coving, the arches; now black and white, now sepia, but when new…  Grey houses made colourful with washing.  A mosque, beside it a pile of rubble and a derelict street.

We found a soda place to sit and have a drink, next to it there was a tiny shop packed with hair products, dyes, jewellery; I bought two pairs of sparkly earrings.

In the street were chickens, cats, white and coloured, and thin dogs.
We passed two Indian tourists, smartly dressed with smart luggage, stood looking like they had arrived in the wrong part of town.

Near the market I saw an underwear advert on a post.  The model was voluptuous by Western standards, soft and with a tummy.  Seeing underwear pictures and pretty underwear on open display made it feel easy to buy, and the stalls had both men and women serving.  I hadn’t seen knickers for sale very often, let alone any suitable.  Here, I pointed to my hips and asked if they had anything to fit.  I bought two pairs of 100% cotton knickers, and they fitted perfectly.

Our train to Varanasi was overnight so we arranged to keep the room for the day so we could hang about and rest there before going to the station.

I looked again at the mould tendrils under the bed.  It wasn’t actual mould like embossed wallpaper, it had been cleaned, and just the marks were left.

Thank you very much for reading

About the author

Sold house left job decluttered almost everything else.  With husband went travelling for a year, mostly in India.   Here are my India highlights.  Currently in Vietnam.  Returning to the UK in four weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

Travel tips for India

Tags

India, Travel, Travel advice, Travel advice for India, Travel tips, Travel tips for India, Traveling, Travelling

Wear flip flops in the shower

In our experience the most dangerous thing about India was the slippery floors.  Marble is cheap in India and many bathrooms are done in it or some other equally slippery surface.  We both fell stepping out of the shower room.  One ex pat we met had had a serious fall in her bathroom, another had put interlocking plastic tiles on top of her flooring to create a non slip surface.  Both told us that Indians keep flip flops for the bathroom.  They told us they knew an Indian boy aged seven who had died after slipping in the bathroom.

Buy a pair of flip flops to wear indoors and religiously put them on every time you go into the bathroom.

Keep your devices charged

Depending on where you are, power cuts can be common, and that will otherwise invariably occur when your phone or tablet is almost flat.

Keep some water handy

There’s always a bucket in the bathroom, which is handy for washing clothes in.  Always keep it half full, that way you’ll be able to use it to flush the loo if the water goes off, which can be another common occurrence.  With the water in the cistern that’ll give you two flushes which will hopefully be enough depending on…

Tummy upsets

My husband and I got what we assumed was food poisoning (vomiting and diarrhea) both times we visited Delhi and ate in Main Bazaar area.  Middle class Indians we met told us they would never eat there.  A French woman we met whose young daughter got very sick in Delhi now only eats at one particular smart hotel in Delhi.  The last time we went to Delhi we ate hotel room service only and escaped unscathed.

Of course you need to get your own medical advice and check the ingredients of medicines re what suits you/allergies etc., but this is what we did:  The first time I got food poisoning the vomiting only lasted a night but the diarrhea continued so my husband went to the pharmacy and got me Cipro, an antibiotic that helped immediately, and gut flora (probiotics.)  Although it helped me, and it was mentioned in forums re traveller’s tummy and food poisioning in Ìndia, I am not recommending Cipro.  Des, a fellow blogger, highlighted that many people have reported serious side effects from taking Cipro.  Link to Des blog post about it here.  Some travellers swear by taking probiotics continually to prevent tummy problems whilst in India, and certainly a doctor we saw recommended taking them for traveller’s diaorriah.

Later in the trip a pharmacist in Pushkar sold us some natural Ayurvedic medicine, green tablets called Dysentrol, for traveller’s diaorriah.  He told us to take one in the morning and one in the evening, he said, ‘They are natural so will work slowly.’  Our experience was that they worked like magic and were invaluable for long coach journeys.  (Don’t keep taking them once you’re okay though or you might go the other way and get constipation.)

Having a funny tummy due to the heat, travel and unfamiliar food can be quite common in India but some people do get very ill with food poisoning/dysentery and need to seek medical help.  As well as the pharmacies, where medicines are very cheap (compared to Cambodia where they are very expensive; Vietnam prices seem closer to India), doctor’s and hospitals are also cheap.  (We have travel insurance but we haven’t used it.)  We sought advice from a Western ex pat re which services to use.

Embrace the bum gun…

…or jug and water to clean after using the toilet.  It feels so much cleaner than just using toilet paper especially in the heat.

Download the Indian Railways IRCTC app

So that you will be able to book and cancel your own train tickets.

Book your train tickets in plenty of time

Tickets go on sale three months in advance and popular routes can sell out straight away!

Get connected

Make friends, swap phone numbers.  A waiter we met in Kerala came from Kolkata.  ‘If you have any problems while you are there, call me, my friends will be there in ten minutes.’  Someone we met in Pushkar knows someone in ‘The train mafia.’  People buy up train tickets same as touts do for concerts in the UK, and sell them on for an increased price.  Trains in India are so cheap that even with this premium it can still be affordable for travellers.  He got us comfy CC (chair class) seats from Pushkar to Delhi when nothing was officially available.

Please feel free to add your own travel tips in the comments!

Thank you very much for reading

About the author

Sold house left job decluttered almost everything else.  With husband went travelling for a year, mostly in India.   Here are my India highlights.  Currently in Vietnam.  Returning to the UK in four weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything.

A funny little travel update

Tags

Hanoi, Health, Travel, Traveling, Travelling, Vietnam

Vietnam (and Cambodia) was supposed to be the easy bit!  That’ll teach us for having expectations!

This reads like one of those round robin Christmas letters written by an old person telling of their health woes (I realise we are old, to some!)

In Cambodia, my husband and then me had chest infections.  We spent a week in Phnom Penh, my husband was ill; then a week in Koh Rong, he was ill for the first half then I was ill for the second half; then a week in Otres Village, I was ill.

Then we went to Siem Reap for a week, I was ill for the first half, but for the second half we were actually both well at the same time and went out celebrating.

We arrived in Vietnam in Hanoi both feeling well, then spent the day out in the pollution and felt a bit affected.  My husband got worse and we realised it was flu.

We were due to get out of Hanoi but it involved a twelve hour overnight seated train journey so we cancelled and stayed put, staying indoors most of the time.

Also, our arrival in Vietnam unwittingly coincided with Tet, the Lunar New Year, when everything closes for several days.  We had to move places; we had to stand outside for a while as cabs were few and far between and other people kept taking them!

When we arrived and were shown to our room, it was basically just a partitioned off area of the reception, little bigger than the double bed, with no fan, the walls open at the top, so no way to keep mosquitos out and no net, and the windows un-curtained so people in the top bunks of the room next door could see in.

My ill husband needed to be in bed but we had to find somewhere else, and got a (rip off) cab to the new destination.

None of this did him much good, but luckily as soon as we were shown into our new room we knew it was okay: big, clean, own bathroom, comfy bed, duvet and towels.  (And hot water, although it’s funny how often we forget to use it as we got so used to cold water in India)

The whole family came up to meet us and say Happy New Year and even gave us gifts!  The owner walked with me to the supermarket, one of those that stay open, with a limited supply of biscuits, juice etc., and she phoned around until she found a pharmacy that was open and walked me there and back too.

They cooked us noodles, and later rice and vegetables, as there are no restaurants open.  They are very kind, but can only provide instant noodles or plain rice with boiled veg, mind you beautifully cooked piles of broccoli, carrots and cauliflower feels good to eat.

On day three my husband was well enough to go out and we went to the supermarket, which has a seating area, and does very basic food, and had plain instant noodles and iced tea.

I also found a big supermarket and got fruit and baguette; presumably thanks to the French, both Cambodia and Vietnam have delicious baguette and great coffee, and the guesthouse makes us hot black tea in pretty English looking cups and saucers.

According to the internet there’s several nice restaurants nearby, but the guy on the desk said they may all be closed until next week, as people are with their families in the countryside.

With the guesthouse and the supermarket we have enough to eat, it’s just a bit samey and it would be nice to get out and eat somewhere outside.

We are here for four nights altogether then we travel to Sapa by minibus for some fresh countryside/mountain air.

Mind you, probably because of Tet, the pollution doesn’t seem too bad right now.  And there probably are places open in the tourist bit, it’s just that isn’t where we are.

Photos by my husband of Hanoi night market just before Tet.

Thank you very much for reading

What’s next?

Tags

Change your life, escape the matrix, Minimalism, Narrowboat, Narrowboat living, Travel, Voluntary simplicity

Okay so we’ve bought the flights home and have five weeks left of this trip, so I’m allowing myself a look at ‘What happens next?’ whilst otherwise staying in the trip, being open to possibilities, and knowing that we don’t ever really know what’s going to happen…

Our flight arrives in the evening so we will stay a night or two in London then get a morning train to Northampton, then a bus to our village.  That way we have time to get coal, kindling, firelighters, water, food, etc.

Food and smaller items can be got from the local shop which is walking distance, and near the bus stop.  We think we have some coal, but if not there is a yard over the road we can walk to and bring back using a wheelbarrow.  (Must ensure we don’t arrive back on a Sunday when yard will be closed…)

Our clothes and bedding have been left on the boat for a year, so we’re hoping that everything is not mouldy…

We’ll need to get the car MOTd, we will ask our landlord to recommend a garage and book it in in advance.

As soon as the car is MOTd and the boat is basically set up i.e. dusted and warmed and bedding aired/at worst replaced, we will go to London to see my husband’s kids, bring one back who wants to come and stay; go to Norwich to see my son, and see the rest of family and friends.

There’ll be several trips to Norfolk and London and some longer trips over the coming months to visit people further afield.

And amongst all that: job applications/agency sign up; sell India stuff (we sent some stuff back to sell); finish the book, and maintain the blog.

I’m looking forward to being home on the boat and cooking proper meals from scratch in my own kitchen.  In the two weeks that we lived on the boat before we left, I really enjoyed that.

I’d also like to make my own natural cleaning products; and also toothpaste, shampoo, hand/body wash, hand cream, face moisturiser and body lotion, to reduce plastic waste and chemical use.  If I do a couple of products, I’ll be pleased.

There’s some activities/organisations/online movements that can support our lifestyle: meditation; going to classes/getting involved at the local Buddhist centre; LETS schemes; Vegan events; the Buy nothing, Minimalism and Voluntary simplicity movements, should we need/want.

I feel that our return to the UK and our new life on the boat will be a whole new adventure.

Thank you very much for reading

For pictures of our trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

How to write a book

Tags

How to write a book, India, Kanyakumari, Nepal, Placebo, Project 333, Rufus Wainwright, spiritual memoir, Thailand, Tokyo, Travel writing

Writing update:

Because we travel on 7kg hand luggage allowance only, I ruthlessly declutter even notebooks once the content has been typed.  I tear the covers off notebooks, pull the written-on pages from writing pads and discard the rest.  Although I usually have an A4 or more usually an A5 pad in the room, when I am out and about I have a small notebook.  Sometimes a really tiny one.  I often only have a waist bag and don’t like to carry a heavy bag.

The loose folded pages at the bottom of the pile, the two coverless notebooks and the small and tiny little notebooks contain a few additional notes from Nepal, and pretty much all the notes for India Part Two as in from October when I came back from Thailand and Tokyo, to when we left in January.  I have typed some notes up as I’ve gone along, and some of the blogs from that period will contain useful aide memoires, but these notebooks are priceless.

Does having a collection of tiny little notebooks to carry around and take care of cause me anxiety?  Well yes it does.  I wrap them all up in a plastic bag, then put them inside a polka dot draw string bag, then in my big handbag for travelling, otherwise they stay indoors.  (Other than the current one in my waist bag, of course.)

The last time I bound them up to pack I was thinking about the book, and the work, and about getting it all done, and then I saw how the books had arranged themselves.  There were just two words visible from the open pages of one of the notebooks:  Work hard

It’s actually part of a t-shirt slogan I noted down ‘Work hard, stay humble,’ (one day I will get around to that post, Indian t-shirt slogans are the best) but for now, I’m taking it as a sign or a mantra and I’m having it for myself.

In the photo of the little pile of notebooks is a green notebook.  Until a few days before I had also had a red one the same, both from the Kerala period May- August.  My husband had brought them back for me from shopping one day.   ‘If you love me, buy me notebooks.’  These two had been the worst, in terms of the oldest, the smallest, and had been carried around all over the place, India, Thailand, Tokyo and back to India again, once or twice I’d thought I’d lost them, but I’d put them somewhere safe.

Typing up the bits from them hung over me like dealing with the huge Kerala section.  In Otres Village, Sihanoukville, Cambodia, I worked through a chest infection on Kerala, Varkala, and opened the red notebook.  It had a few bits and pieces for the main Kerala, Varkala chapter, and it also had notes about the trip we’d taken to Kanyakumari.

I’d written a draft chapter about Kanyakumari at the time and posted it on the blog in a bit of a hurry.  Re reading the original notes I realised the blog wasn’t as warm, and the notebook contained potentially more depth of feeling.  After a moment of disappointment/overwhelm, I realised it was ultimately a good thing.  I retyped everything from the notebook, unless it was exactly the same as in the draft, so that I didn’t miss something.  I got the typing finished before we left, and whilst we’ve been at Siem Reap I got the Kanyakumari draft redone.

And then in Siem Reap I went back to the main Kerala, Varkala section, and opened the last notebook, the little green one; and found… that there was nothing to find.  Every page had a line crossed through meaning it had been typed, which I also checked, or was blank.  Sometimes the universe just throws you a bone.

I decided that was the moment to stop for the day.  My husband had gone out to give me writing space.  Rather than just plough on to the next thing I thought I’d take a moment to celebrate what I had already achieved.  Listening to this song alone in our beautiful hotel room, the end in sight, was a moment of pure celebration and joy:

The next day I did a final bit of tidying up and sent the Kerala draft to my husband to read: 23,000 words, and the section I’ve struggled with the most.  It’s still a draft, but it’s ready for a rough read, and it’s time to move on.  And oh yes, that felt good.  Below was the song for that moment, that pure burst of energy:

For anyone doing anything creative I wish you full power

 

Thank you very much for reading

A little bit of luxury: Siem Reap

Tags

anxiety, Cambodia, Cambodia sleeper buses, Health and wellbeing, mindfulness, OCD, Siem Reap, Travel, Traveling, Travelling

On the day of the journey from Koh Rong to Siem Reap I woke up feeling a bit sorry for myself, with a bit of a chest infection and the prospect of a twelve hour bus journey ahead that night.

As usual I was a bit anxious packing and checking and rechecking my bag, I have some OCD.  I wasn’t as anxious as usual about needing a wee, I think the more buses we’ve done, the more it’s been okay, they always stop, we’re always okay, that has gotten me used to it.

Indian sleeper buses have singles down one side, doubles down the other.  This bus had doubles down both sides.  This meant that the corridor was very narrow and the sleeper compartments were very cosy.  Still, it was nice and clean, with a pillow and a good heavy cotton blanket each.

The walls at the ends between the sleeper compartments were open for the last bit at the top, meaning you weren’t totally private from your neighbours.  We heard our young neighbours chatting excitedly and sending pictures to their mums, before they settled down to watch separate things on separate devices.  One of them had downloaded several films and I think they were disappointed when their friend said actually I’ll watch my own thing instead.

We didn’t watch anything together either though.  We sat/lay top to tail for more space.  As soon as we got into our space I felt myself relax, and I spent a long time just sitting and noticing and enjoying that feeling.

Every now and again I had to deal with coughing/trying not to cough, AC doesn’t help with that, whilst not drinking more than miniscule amounts of water, and sucking sweets.   I did lie down and sleep for some of it although it was a bit squashed even for me (I am short).  Once we stopped for the loo, and then the bus arrived two hours ahead of schedule, at 6am.

We hung out at the hotel cafe and had breakfast while we waited for our room to be ready.  We’d thought we might have to wait hours, but it was ready surprisingly fast.

The mattresses of South East Asia are not known for being always comfortable for soft Westerners.  So to arrive after a long night journey in a room that is clean, with white sheets, duvet, four squishy pillows, two cushions and a comfy mattress.  Oh, and hot water.  And towels.  Well, it’s a little slice of heaven.

There’s even a 7/11 nearby where I bought myself a facepack for some pampering.  I might even get myself a massage before we go, now my cough is getting better.  Siem Reap is lively and interesting, with pretty lights and good places to eat.  I have a writing desk in the room and a good work ethic.  Next stop Vietnam!

Thank you very much for reading

For actual photos of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony