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Rachel

~ following the white rabbit…

Rachel

Monthly Archives: March 2019

March 31st 2019 The Matrix 20 year anniversary

31 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in escape the matrix, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Anything is possible, escape the matrix, The matrix, The Matrix 20 year anniversary, The Matrix 20 years, The Matrix 20 years later

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I believe in following the white rabbit.  Do you?

I’m not necessarily braver than you.  I’m not necessarily any more mentally intact.  I actually physically went somewhere else, but that isn’t necessarily necessary for everyone.

I woke up in my life and realised I had to do something in order not to die without having lived.  Watching, and thinking about, The Matrix, and Alice in Wonderland- see blog, helped me break free and dismantle my old life.  Placebo provided the soundtrack see blog explaining their impact.  My Escape the matrix posts one two and three

It is twenty years since the Matrix film was released see my previous post.

I watched The Matrix with fresh eyes once I started ‘waking up,’ at the time I didn’t get it.  It was the same with Blade Runner.  Later I watched  Black Mirror and Battlestar Gallactica.  Westworld will do it too, but that’s too violent for me to watch.

I sometimes think about where we ‘really’ are, and the nature of reality.  I sometimes think of being a brain in a tank, or going ‘back into the tank’ to regroup, especially when I was in the capsule in Tokyo! 

I have on occasion believed I just arrived in this day or moment, and that all my memories are a feed.  I also sometimes think, Wow, if I created this back story for myself, I really did a number on myself.  It’s not glaringly dramatic, I sometimes think that much more extreme lives might have been experienced by this consciousness, but that this is the last one and so is fine tuned to have any experiences that were missed previously; the things that upset me are so complicated and subtle and detailed and just keep on hurting, and therefore keep me emeshed and prevent me waking up fully.  In Blade Runner, they implanted memories, families, a back story, into the robots ‘to make them easier to control.’  I still feel a bit goosebumpy thinking about that

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In Siem Reap we watched The Thirteenth Floor and afterwards went for a walk.  Me feeling like I’d just arrived, Look at that, look at that.  A purple building, a row of neon lights.  I had to sit down on a bench, but even that was overstimulating, pictured above; shells and mosaics are kind of a thing for me.  I decided to have a working hypothesis that it’s a matrix.  That would mean: don’t worry about what people think, in cafes, walking past, don’t get distracted.  Instead focus attention, choose, consciously choose, don’t go around saying hi to everyone, don’t waste energy, don’t feel self conscious, don’t be scared of mother, believe I can do anything that any similar person can do i.e. write book.

Since then I’ve been lower, and right now I’m higher, confidence and frequency and understanding wise.

There can be many signs that awareness is increasing.  It can be seeing the beauty and feeling bliss.  It can be seeing the beautiful things even when feeling very bad.  Beyond that, it can be seeing things in real life that I’ve just seen on Netflix , or vice versa.  Or hearing similar conversations.  Or timing.  Or meeting people you need to meet.  Or the clock whenever I look at it saying 04:40 or similar: when I turned on my tablet to write this post and looked at the clock it said 07:07.

It’s about fearlessness.

Beyond all the films, books, the spiritual teachings, the New Age philosophy, it’s about waking up into your life.  And realising, really  realising, that you are a being, that you are here, in a life, in this world.  That you are conscious, that you are alive, but that you will die and that that could happen anytime.

Once you realise this, as Neo said, what you do with that information is up to you…

Thank you very much for reading

‘If you think you’re enlightened, try going home for Thanksgiving

29 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in awareness, escape the matrix, family, Personal growth, Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Anything is possible, artists, confidence, mother daughter relationships, mother son relationships, Parenting, Self realisation, separating from adult children, Shaman, shamanic ritual


For SMUT and Self-Esteem, a very wise and perfectly written blog. Reflecting on everyday experience through tools such as mindfulness and Buddhist teachings.

Even at the age of forty seven I was scared about telling my mum of our plans to give up work and go off to India, particularly about selling the house. And on the way to telling her about the boat I was as nervous as if I were on my way to hospital for an operation. I played the song above, ‘You say you can’t, I hope you can, I hope you can…’

My mother is an astonishingly capable individual, potentially a lot to live up to, and who has very strong opinions. But feeling as if I’m not free to live my life as I wish to because of what she might think or say isn’t on her, it’s on me.

Again and again people say, no one can have power over you without your consent, and such like. Certainly in the run up to going away I said the same kinds of things to myself and tried to deal with it on an intellectual level. I did what needed to be done, but I made a big palaver about it, putting things off and getting stressed out, and expending a lot of time and energy on it all.

On Thursday of last week we made our first trip back to Norfolk to visit people. Firstly we went to see our dear friend K, who made us a lovely lunch*, let us go on about India, and was very supportive about my book and our ideas. She asked us each if and how we thought the year of travel had changed us. We both said we felt it had, but that we didn’t know exactly how yet.

Then we drove over to see my mum. Towards the end of the year of travel I had had dreams about this meeting, and woken feeling anxious and intimidated, as I was when I visited before I left. This time, I didn’t feel even a flicker of nerves on the way there, and sailed through the visit authentically and confidently. We showed her photographs, she made us a delicious meal**, and we chatted about general topics. We all seemed happy to see each other, and had a nice time.

In the past I had involved her too much in my life, and I had felt shadowed by her strong opinions. The year away provided the opportunity to reset boundaries. I’m sure she doesn’t approve of everything I’m doing but she appears to have accepted that I’m doing it anyway, and didn’t question or comment.

I know it’s because she cares but I have to have this bit of separation in order to fully realise my own personal potential.

I wasn’t fake friendly or fake tough, I was totally myself during that time, and that is best described as relaxed and powerful. And it just happened that way, that’s how I’ve changed. (Just got to keep it up!)

Then we went to see my son. He’s not, as far as I’m aware, working on the same things with me, but I know he’s done better the less I’ve been involved in his life, culminating in him being offered, while I was away this year, the chance to exhibit in New York in May.

(I still have to work on resetting habits and expectations re money though, now that he is almost thirty and I am not working at the moment.)

We all acknowledged that he’d done the best all by himself, and I told him what the Swiss shaman I met in Kerala had told me, that when you have a baby it is your job to ‘Give them the bliss,’ but then when they grow up you must set them free. The shaman said I must set my son free so that he can become a great artist.

*beetroot and chickpea burgers, pasta in tomato sauce and broccoli
**vegetable curry, rice, samosas, and apple crumble and (soya) custard
We were thoroughly spoiled that day!
Thank you very much for reading

Italian Baba

24 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in India, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Anything is possible, Baba Cesare, escape the matrix, Hampi, Incredible India, India, Italian Baba, Love India, Travel, Traveling, Travelling

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In Hampi in India (for blogs about Hampi with pictures see here, here and here) we went to a chai stall on the temple side of the river; out of the main village, past the Rama temple.  Twenty years ago my husband had visited this chai stall and met Hanuman and his wife and was surprised and pleased to find that they were still there!

We visited most days for chai and coconuts, we chatted with them, fussed their pregnant cat and watched the monkeys in the tree nearby.
Hanuman told us about an ‘Italian Baba’ who lived opposite, on the other side of the river.  They said he had built an ashram there that had been going for forty years.

Hanuman explained how to get there and a couple of days later we set out to visit.  We had to walk beyond Hanuman’s chai stall, we went wrong once and had to go back and be redirected, but we got to a place where there is a man who takes people across the river in a coracle.

We explained we were going to see Italian Baba.  The coracle man told us that he had died the day before from heart problems; he had been taken to the government hospital but the doctors were unable to save him.  He said it was still okay to go to the ashram and pay our respects.

The coracle was beautifully made, there was just the two of us and the man rowing us across.  The water and the scenery surrounding it looked absolutely magical.

The man showed us where to go, and handed our money to the man on the other side, his boss.  We paused at a little temple first, we hesitated, unsure if we were allowed in.  An Indian family beckoned us, and showed us the way; we followed them down a stone corridor, at the end was a shrine with a very old Baba there.  We followed the family, gave some money and had a blessing.

The man who had rowed us was still outside and pointed the way through scrub and old garden to the ashram.  I had imagined lots of mourning devotees and was unsure if it was even appropriate to go, but there was no one about.  The ashram looked as though it hadn’t been active for a few years.

We met an Italian woman who had come especially to see him, she was very moved to have arrived the day after he died, and we all had a hug.  A caretaker was there, but no other residents.  An Indian man who spoke good English showed us around.  He showed us the Baba’s bed and a picture of him on the wall and we took photographs.  He asked to take a photograph of all of us together in front of the Baba’s picture, ‘To remember this day.’

He explained that he had grown up knowing the Baba, who had come to India as a young man in the 1960s and stayed, at first he had lived in nearby caves.  For the past four years the Baba had been living between Goa and Italy and hadn’t been to the ashram, as he was very old.  He had decided to visit the ashram and look around and do some tidying in the garden.

He had travelled from Goa to Hampi, which is quite a journey along bumpy roads; he was staying in a guesthouse in Hampi not at the ashram as he needed somewhere more comfortable with a fan.  When he arrived in Hampi he began to feel unwell.  His wife and children were with him.  He didn’t get to the ashram but he did get back to Hampi.

I asked the Italian woman if the Baba was famous in Italy.  She said not exactly famous, but known because of a book that had been written about him by a fellow Italian.  She said the title translates as ‘Barefoot on the Earth.’

After Hampi we left India and went to Cambodia.  We spent a few days in Phnom Penh and then went to Otres Village near Sihanoukville.  There we met a Spanish woman who speaks and reads Italian.  She had borrowed a book off another guest to read… guess what it was?!  Yes, the book about Baba Cesare the Italian Baba.  We took a picture of the actual book, above.  Below, the river and coracle and the ashram.

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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.  Just arrived back in the UK and now living on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

For more photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

Tales from the riverbank, part one

22 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in Narrowboat, Uncategorized

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

escape the matrix, Life on a narrowboat, Narrowboat, Narrowboat living

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Tales from the riverbank, part one
For Ms Lockwood at The Lockwood Echo: not a real newspaper, one of my favourite blog names.
Photo: we have made friends with a swan

So re-entry went well, thanks to our forward planning and a touch of magic from the forces of the universe.

We left our hostel in Ho Chi Min, Vietnam at one thirty am local time on Thursday, flew to Bejing, had a few hours there then flew to London. We arrived in London at around six pm local time Thursday, after a journey of around twenty three hours.

We got the underground to Kings Cross. My husband pointed out that there were only four colours of clothes on the train and that I was the most outrageously dressed, in a burnt orange jumper and blue scarf.

We walked to the Travelodge, dumped our bags, had a quick wash, brushed our teeth, dressed as respectably and warmly as we could, and went out to the all you can eat Indian veg in Chapel Market with my husband’s children. They commented that we seemed much more together than they had expected, which we were pleased about. Ooh, but it was bitterly cold walking about that evening!

We went back to the room, watched five minutes of Netflix and fell asleep. The next morning I showered and washed my hair even though I didn’t feel like it, knowing I’d feel like it even less on the boat. I forgot that UK bathrooms are not all wet rooms like in India, so that’s why they have the sign explaining how to use a shower curtain… The toilet seat being cold on one’s bum, was a ‘new’ sensation.

In the spirit of making the most of hotel opportunities I had a big breakfast of Linda McCartney sausages, baked beans, mushrooms and tomatoes before we left for the train station.

A woman almost walked straight into my husband, she was looking at her phone. Everyone seemed to be in their own worlds. It was busy, but so quiet. We saw more homeless people in two minutes than we had in six days in Ho Chi Min.

When we got to Northampton we bought sleeping bags just in case all our bedding on the boat had gone mouldy, then got the bus to our village.

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At the village we took photos at the bus stop like we had before we left. See blog post Nothing to lose but our dignity from March last year. We bought a few things from the shop and walked to the boat.

The boat was fine. Everything was dry inside, which felt like a miracle. Our clothes, our bedding, our mattress, everything was fine. It was Friday afternoon. After lighting the fire and eating beans on toast we went to the yard over the road with the wheelbarrow and got coal, logs and kindling. We went back there again Saturday morning and got another bag of coal. The yard is closed Saturday afternoon and Sunday all day, so arriving back Friday afternoon was perfect.

We had a warm welcome from our landlord, and we met some of the other boat people again, which was nice.

We weren’t as tired as we had feared, and it wasn’t as hard as we’d feared. But we were tired. The first night I wondered was it too late to message someone, then looked at the time and saw it was only 8.20!

As well as sleeping, the first few days have been spent unpacking and sorting out where to put things. Rediscovering things in the cupboards and drawers; jeans, natural shampoo, moisturiser, and best of all, Marmite! Enjoying Heinz tomato soup and toast with wholefood peanut butter after a good walk.

The garage came and collected the car on Monday, it passed its MOT easily and we walked to collect it on Tuesday.

We had five days on the boat before we went anywhere. I couldn’t believe it had been five days! We’d hardly done anything, and yet I couldn’t have done any more. It was the best possible place to be post re-entry, on a boat at the edge of a village. It was nice not having a car and just using the village shop and not having to brave a big supermarket.

Walking about, everything seems really clean. A bit plain, but nice and green, with blue skies when they are there. Dogs seem really big!

No street sellers, no plastic tables and chairs on the pavement creating a pop up cafe, with a karaoke set up on a motorbike stopping by to add to the party, like in Vietnam.

We walked 3.7 miles to the garage and aside from our village shop at the start, we didn’t pass a single shop. Not like in India, where there’s always food and drink nearby, someone selling chai, a street vendor selling bananas.

My husband said, it’s the price we pay for law and order, regular rubbish collections and clean drinking water, things are sanitised, and therefore in comparison, a bit boring.

Feeling the matrix now that we are back in the UK but remembering, interface with it on your own terms. Stay in the present, stick to the plan. Finish the book. Maintain the blog. Keep frequency high. Keep fear at bay.

Realising, now is the time to let go my fingertips from the cliff face and trust fall into the universe. Not the trip, now. This is the new life.

Thank you very much for reading

Everything we watched on Netflix this trip

17 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Atypical, Big Mouth, Billions, Bojack Horseman, Netflix, Sex Education, The Umbrella Academy

BoJack Horseman I’ve written about BoJack Horseman before; in a post about the show here, and about how the show has kept me grounded during my trip here

Atypical About a teen with autism and his family and friends.  Beautifully narrated facts about Antarctica help explain how he feels within the world.

Big Mouth More adult animation, about growing up, puberty, sex and relationships

Billions

Dear White People

Derry Girls

House of Cards

Kiss Me First

Maniac

Russian Doll

Sex Education The director is a big fan of John Hughes movies (me too- I LOVE  Breakfast Club and Pretty in Pink) and so it looks like an American High School (or what they look like in films and shows anyway) but it is set in Britain.  Made me cry anyway.

13 Reasons Why Kept me company whilst alone and scared of spiders in Thailand

The Affair Kept me company whilst ill in India

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina +The lead played the daughter in Mad Men  -Contains spiders

The Kominsky Method

Wanderlust

Wild Wild Country Gripping documentary about Osho’s ashram in Oregon.  Looked great at the start, and we moved into Osho’s guesthouse in Varkala partly inspired by it.  Later episodes took a more  sinister turn.  We had a wonderful time at the guesthouse though.

The Umbrella Academy
‘We’re not kids anymore. There’s no such thing as good people and bad people, there’s just people, living out their lives.’

Thank you very much for reading

‘At home wherever you go’*

15 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in Travel, Uncategorized

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Anything is possible, Cambodia, Incredible India, India, Love India, Narrowboat, Nepal, Thailand, Tokyo, Travel, Traveling, Travelling, Vietnam

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All the places we’ve stayed… in chronological order… with links to relevant blog posts

We had a budget per night of £10 (or US$13 or IDR1,000, roughly).  We stayed in private rooms, except for me in Tokyo.  We kept well within budget most of the time, often staying in rooms which cost half that amount.  We blew the budget in Tokyo (£20 per night), and went over once in Delhi and once in Bangalore, and towards the end of our Pushkar stay when prices went up due to an event.

* from an article in an old magazine about the benefits of meditation, read in a cafe in Pondicherry, India

Delhi, India (Hotel) pictured above Arrival meltdown and First sickness

Our first stop.  That spot is special to me, I did my yoga there, ‘I’m doing yoga, in India!’ and I lay there in the hall on the cool floor next to the bathroom the night I was sick.

Train Delhi to Goa

Colva (Hostel/Guesthouse) Colva (Hotel)

Agonda (first Beach hut)

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Agonda (second Beach hut) pictured above

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Hampi ‘the other side of the river’/ ‘hippie island’ (Guesthouse) pictured above

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Hampi temple side of the river (guesthouse) pictured above

Anjuna (guesthouse)

Arambol (guesthouse)

Panaji (guesthouse)

Varkala (bungalow)

Varkala (guesthouse) Meeting our people

Kovalam (hotel)

Varkala (hotel) Everyday enlightenment

Kanyakumari (hotel)

Kochi (homestay),

Night train to Chennai

Chennai (hotel)

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Chennai (guesthouse) pictured above A piece of my heart is still in Chennai and Broadlands Guesthouse

Pondicherry (guesthouse)

Bangkok, Thailand (guesthouse)

Night train to Surat Thani

Haad Rin (bungalow)

Thong Sala (bungalow)

Sri Thanu (bungalow)

Night train to Bangkok

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Tokyo Japan (capsule hostel) pictured above

(My husband went to Cambodia while I was in Tokyo, he stayed in two different guesthouse rooms.  He also did a trip to and from Bangkok with his daughter, and so had an extra overnight train journey, and three nights in three different hotels, so he wins on numbers!)

Kolkata India (guesthouse)

Night train to Varanasi

Varanasi (guesthouse)

Varanasi (guesthouse) 3 hours (unbearable due to building work)

Delhi (hotel)

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Sleeper bus to Pushkar pictured above

Pushkar (guesthouse) first room

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Pushkar (guesthouse) second room pictured above

We were there for a month and felt like part of the family.  They upgraded us for our last few days!  I loved Pushkar, home to Babas, gorgeous looking cows, and fun monkeys.

Delhi (hotel)

Kathmandu, Nepal (homestay)

Nagarkot, Nepal (wooden chalet)

Varkala, India (guesthouse)

Hampi (guesthouse) first room, second room So many things to love in Hampi…  and our second room

Bangalore (hotel)

Phnom Penh, Cambodia (guesthouse)

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Koh Rong, Cambodia (tent) pictured above (travel update Cambodia)

Otres Village, Cambodia (bungalow) Writing and contemplation

Siem Reap, Cambodia (hotel) A little bit of luxury

Hanoi, Vietnam (apartment)

Hanoi, Vietnam (guesthouse)

Sapa,Vietnam (hostel)

Hanoi, Vietnam (hotel)

Night train to Dong Hoi, Vietnam

Dong Hoi, Vietnam (pub/hostel)

Hue, Vietnam (hotel)

Nha Trang, Vietnam (hotel)

Nha Trang, Vietnam (hotel) next door

Dalat, Vietnam

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Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam, pictured above, our last room in SE Asia

As this posts we will be waking up in a Travelodge in London, before getting a train to Northampton, then a bus, to begin our new lives living on a narrowboat in the Northamptonshire countryside!

Thank you very much for reading

the end and the beginning

10 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in De-cluttering, Decluttering, escape the matrix, Narrowboat, Uncategorized, Voluntary simplicity

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Anything is possible, escape the matrix, Minimalism, Narrowboat, Narrowboat living, Travel, Voluntary simplicity

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In April 2017 we asked ourselves, what would we do if we could do anything?  The answer was stop working and go off travelling.
Just less than a year later, in March 2018, we left good jobs, sold our house, gave away most of our possessions and went to South East Asia, mainly India, for a year.  Here are my India highlights.

Getting from April 2017 to March 2018 was scary at times.  B, a fellow blogger and now friend who I met here on WP, sent me the Rilke quote above which is useful now too.

Before we left the UK we bought a narrowboat to live on when we get back.  It is moored in an area that was unfamiliar to either of us, we spent two very happy weeks on it before we left.

It’s natural to feel some anxiety about our return home (in less than a week!) and there have been times when it has tipped into fear.  With regular meditation helping I have recently experienced it as excitement rather than anxiety, and the future being unmapped as seeming expansive and joyful rather than scary.

I’ve channelled my anxiety into getting this week’s and next week’s blog posts prepared and scheduled.  The following week I hope to be back with an update re life back in the UK and on the boat.

I am not full of doom and gloom about returning to the UK, I’m excited about seeing friends and family.  My son has done amazingly well since we’ve been away, as well as facing his fears and getting his teeth done, his career as an artist has taken off, and his work is being exhibited in New York in May, see flier below!

Thank you very much for reading

For photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

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Hue to Nha Trang by train

08 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in Uncategorized, Vietnam

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

meditation, Sapiens, The Power of Now, Travel, Travel memoir, Travel writing, Traveling, Travelling, Vietnam, Vietnam coach journeys, Vietnam train journeys, Vietnam trains

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Hue to Nha Trang by train: 14.5 hours, 1 pack of Oreos, ¾ pack of Pringles, 1 corn on the cob, 1 baguette, 2 cups of coffee, 1 can of beer, 3 episodes of Atypical, and countless naps.

The alarm went off at 5.20am, the taxi came at 6.20 and we still got it together to meditate before we left.  Meditation warriors!  Actually we’d fallen off a bit since I wrote a post about our meditation methods. But since Hue we have been back into doing it every day.  Currently doing Krishnamurti style.

My husband is reading Sapiens and he read some bits aloud and we had a few discussions about capitalism, history and religion.  He also read me some of The Power of Now and we discussed that too, it linked interestingly to Krishnamurti meditatation.

We also spent time looking at the lovely scenery, lots of green, and lots of water.

Even though it was a day journey, as it was long we’d booked beds, first class AC, four in a cabin, with plenty of space and mattresses that were comfortable enough, nice pillows and cuddly duvets.  We had lower bunks this time.  We’d travelled the same class overnight Hanoi to Dong Hoi, and had top bunks, with space for luggage and to sit up.  People we spoke to who had gone second class, three high, six per cabin, said the top bunk was very cramped, they couldn’t sit up at all.

We arrived in Nha Trang late evening.  Nha Trang is very busy and very touristy, but the variety is all part of the experience.

20190226_15182920190226_151908Travel update  We have/had six weeks in Vietnam altogether travelling North to South, Hanoi- Sapa– Hanoi- Dong Hoi- Hue- Nha Trang- Da Lat- Ho Chi Min.  In Dong Hoi, Hue and Nha Trang every room has cost US$8 or less.  In Dong Hoi we had a private room in a hostel with a key to our own separate bathroom.  In Hue and Dong Hoi breakfast was included.  In Hue and Nha Trang the standard has been very high.  We have stayed in hotels, very clean, with own bathroom.  In Nha Trang we each had a double bed, the first room was enormous, the second (pictured above) was big, and had a bathtub!  As I write this we are in Da Lat, which is much more authentic and full of character.  As this posts we will be travelling Da Lat to Ho Chi Min, our last stop.

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Pictures above semi sleeper coach Nha Trang to Da Lat five hour journey, seat-beds three across two high, very comfy for me less so for my tall husband.

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 less than a week to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

For more photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

The Burning Ghats, Varanasi

03 Sunday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in India, Travel, Uncategorized, Varanasi

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Incredible India, India, Love India, The Burning Ghats, Varanasi

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The Burning Ghats, Varanasi

Draft book extract

The Ganga was high and so we had to walk the long way through the busy part of town, rather than walk along the river to the Burning Ghats, where cremations take place.

It was a really awful walk, with the heat and the pollution. We stopped at a stall and bought scarves to put over our faces.

The walk was hard but I saw faded red stairs inside a house, pale pink walls, and above the open door a tiny lemon on a string with green beans threaded horizontally above and below making a decoration or a talisman.

As we got near, people called out, ‘Dead body burning?’ and told us which way to go. It seemed so inappropriate to treat this as a tourist attraction, even though that’s what we and other people were doing. We do it, but we don’t want to be open about it. But people in India are direct and things in India are out in the open, especially death.

An man came up to us and took us around. He took us into the burning room where the bodies of Brahmins (the priest caste) are cremated. In metal frames raised off the ground were piles of fire almost out. We were very close, it felt very weird.

The burning takes several hours and the family stays for the duration. We saw a family, it felt intrusive although our guide appeared relaxed about it.

The room was up high; from one side we looked down and saw piles of firewood, from the other he showed us where everyone else was burned, on the ground level. Amongst the ash were gold pieces that looked like foil decorations.

The man showed us a small fire smouldering, ‘The Shiva fire,’ which never goes out.

He told us that he was a social worker at the hospice in the building next door, doing massage and caring for the dying.

At the end of the tour he asked for donations for poor people’s cremations. He told us how many kilos of wood it takes to burn a body, and how much the wood cost per kilo. ‘How many kilos are you going to buy?’ he asked. ‘Is that all?’ We both left feeling guilt tripped about our contribution being too little.

On the way back we saw a body being carried through the streets on a simple stretcher of fabric and sticks with a blanket over; the person’s body was so thin, so flat.

It was an overwhelming walk back again with the heat and pollution.
It was so good to be back in our alleyways; the old town is not so polluted.

We stopped at the nearest of our regular cafes and ordered fizzy drinks. I went to the sink and washed my hands. With a bottle of Sprite in hand I immediately better, before even drinking it; just by being back there, in the land of the living.

I still felt a bit strange from the emotional impact of it all. ‘Tea and cake’ was required. I bought biscuits from a little shop, and we went to a coffee shop. The coffee shop was small, with wooden benches and tables. Sitting near us were an Indian man and a Western woman. There was a long wait for coffee, and they struck up a friendly conversation with us.

He was from another state, travelling, trying to find something different to do, she was from Europe. She said it was her second time in India, but her first time in Varanasi. She said couldn’t do Varanasi the first time, it was too intense.

We spoke about being tired, and about the heat. He said, ‘Do stuff before ten am or after ten pm;’ the implication being, in between do nothing.

They ordered more chai. They said, ‘How many chai have we had now? Four or five? We’ve had one every half an hour since ten thirty this morning.’

They bought us tea. The coffee shop encounter and chat, the biscuits, provided me with the comfort I needed.
Anthony said, ‘There’s always something, for every bad experience, there’s a good one.’

We got back and told our guesthouse manager where we had been. He said, ‘People say they are social worker,’ ‘Yes,’ we said, ‘And they do massage, care for the people, and need money for wood.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘There’s no hospice there. That building is a place for families to stay. The family pays for wood, if they are a poor person, the community supplies the wood.’ I told him how many kilos for each body, how much per kilo. He shook his head. ‘How many kilos did you buy?’ His face was a picture. ‘You should have asked me first,’ he said.

I felt much better though, finding out we’d been scammed was better than feeling guilty about not giving enough money for wood for a poor person’s cremation. We paid for the man’s time and for the experience, we probably would have not had so much access without a guide, it was an ok amount, and any lies are on him.

On our last morning we woke up early and went up to the rooftop. The sun was just risen, an orange ball above The Ganga. People had put chapattis out on the roof terraces, squirrels were eating them. Some birds, like swallows, were making a huge noise.

There were monkeys all around, lots of babies, even a baby monkey sliding down a pole like a fire station pole.

People were already up, sweeping, doing exercises and prayers. People get up early and rest in afternoon, work around the heat. Women were making breakfast in caged off roof rooms, and hanging up laundry outside on the open rooftops, protected with sticks.

A black and white dog chained up watched the monkeys and barked when they went past. Another fluffy orange dog was loose and chased them, there was a near miss once.

We watched a monkey pick up a kite and just destroy it piece by piece, picking it up, looking at it as if interested, eating a bit, then tearing it to bits.

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 two weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

For more photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

Mountains are meant to be quiet: Varanasi

01 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Rachel in India, Travel, Uncategorized, Varanasi

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

Incredible India, India, Love India, Travel, Varanasi

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Mountains are meant to be quiet
Varanasi

Extracts of draft chapter for book

As we got closer to Varanasi, we saw red brick buildings, it seemed strange to see red brick again.  At first glance they looked like ordinary red brick buildings like in the UK, on closer look each individual brick had a pattern carved into it.  Some of the buildings were square shaped with turret shaped top walls, like unfinished castles.  They were pretty, and reminded me of Morocco.

The palm trees here were tall, thin and spiky; pure Dr Zeus.  As we came closer to Varanasi, two yellow butterflies landed on the outside of the window.

The guesthouse had said they would send a rickshaw to meet us.  We wondered for a moment how they would find us, before realising we were the only Westerners at the station.

I saw a little exchange take place at a corner, a near miss between a scooter and a bicycle.  It was the cyclist’s fault, he had gone out in front of the scooter, causing the scooter to stop sharp.  The rider of the scooter looked about fourteen, with a boy of maybe nine or ten standing up at the front of the scooter, the stop made a mild jolt and jerked the younger boy forwards.  Both riders stopped, made eye contact, there was a pause; the moped rider gave a head wobble that seemed to serve both as chastisement and to acknowledge acceptance of the cyclist’s apology, and off they all went with no words exchanged.

Our rickshaw driver went as far as he could then parked up and led us on foot through the narrow alleyways where the rickshaw couldn’t go; we had to walk fast to follow him through all the twists and turns, with him only occasionally turning around to check we were still there.  I was excited to see monkeys again in the alleyways, up high, jumping from side to side, but there was no time to stop and look.

The guesthouse was painted shiny mustard yellow.  The manager said people move to Varanasi, swelling its population; hence all the pollution, because it is believed that if you are living within its boundary when you die you go straight to Nirvana, guaranteed.

He said, ‘The weather is changing all around, because humans have interfered with nature.’  ‘Too many cars, I said.  ‘Yes, and too much chopping down of trees, and interfering with mountains.’  ‘Mountains are meant to be quiet,’ he said, ‘They are not for picnics.’

He asked what I liked about India, I said as always, the colour.  He said ‘Yes, I watch the news reports for Europe, there is no colour, there are no shining faces.  Even the poor have shining faces in India.  Even people living on the street smile.’

My husband had his answer, ‘Because in India you feel free.’  ‘Yes,’ the manager said, ‘Even the animals in India are free.’  He and I bemoaned the problem of cows eating plastic.  ‘People are lazy,’ he said.  ‘When I was a boy, every house had a cow that would come, and you would give it the food waste.  Now people put it in plastic bags.’

‘The animals have suffered since plastic came to India.  You see, they don’t have hands,’ he said.

At the top of the guesthouse was a roof terrace.  The rooftop provided a panoramic view of roof tops and buildings.  The view was incredible.  So many buildings cram packed; the rooftops different heights, some brick, many grey with age and dust but some colour with faded paint; white, cream, pale blue, pink, red, yellow and blue-green, and the washing hung out.

There were lots of mosques, mainly white.

Out to one side was The Ganga, huge and beautiful, with colourful wooden boats carrying pilgrims and tourists.

And so many monkeys.  Effortlessly jumping from building to building.  Tiny babies, medium babies, some on their mum, hanging under her tummy, or sitting on her back.  The highest building in near vicinity was painted pale pink and dark pink, with a wrought iron decorative balustrade.  At the top of the building there was an adult monkey sitting on the top of the wall, looking around, on top of the world.

There were boys and young men on different rooftops, flying kites made out of wood and paper, maroon and purple coloured.

So much detail to take in.  I imagined what it would be like to paint a picture of it or do a jigsaw puzzle of it; like those impossible baked bean ones.

We were staying in the old town where narrow alleyways criss crossed and went down to the ghats, the steps at the side of The Ganga.  Hole in wall shops sold tobacco, cigarettes, water, toiletries and so on.  Stalls sold hippy clothes, scarfs, thin trousers, silk, jewellery and ornaments for the tourists.  The stallholders offered as we went past but were not really pushy.  We bought loose cotton trousers and tops, feeling more relaxed already.

The narrow alleyways were plagued with bikes, which was annoying, noisy and polluting, and meant you always had to be moving out of the way.  I was surprised to see cows up high in raised porch doorways, so funny, filling up the space in front of people’s houses.  Dogs were curled up asleep in the alcoves of porches.

People born here seemed happy like the people born in Hampi.  When we asked the man from the clothes shop how he was, he answered, ‘Everything is perfect.’ So positive!

We met a sadhu, and went to his house for an astrological reading.  How genuine, who knows, but we entered into the spirit of it and of course embraced the bits we liked or rang true.  He told me I was a very spiritual person, that I have good intuition, but that I overthink things; he said that I get close, almost to my mission, to enlightenment, and then fall back.

He said, ‘Past is bullshit, Future is bullshit, Mind is bullshit!’

He gave us a blessing as a couple and told us to stay together until death.  ‘If he get angry, you be quiet, if she angry, you quiet,’ he said.

We got a little network going, people to chat to, two good food places and a chai stall. A man on the main street with a shop tried to sell us silk, every day we had a good humoured exchange as he tried to persuade us and we came up with different excuses.

We bumped into the man from the banana stall every day.  He wore the same red t-shirt every day.  One day at a time, it said.  He told us he used to be a Brahmin, but because when he was younger he was addicted to heroin he has spoiled that and is no longer a Brahmin, despite being clean for many years.

At the chai stall a man chatted to us and showed us pictures of his two girlfriends, one in Nepal.  ‘Do they know about each other?’ I asked.  ‘Are you crazy, if you had a boyfriend would you tell Anthony about him?!’ he said to me.

As well as the ceremonies which were held each evening, the ghats and the side of the river were wonderful to walk about.  Bells clanged at temple time.  Incredible looking sadhus, some naked and covered in ash, sat on high stone platforms beside the river.  A man offered to sell us opium.  ‘Why not, it’s Sunday?’ he said when we said no thank you.

One evening we bought a selection of delicious homemade Indian sweets from a little shop between our guesthouse and The Ganga.  We sat on the steps at the ghats and looked at the river, and the boats.

We watched a dog going from little rowing boat to little rowing boat, three tied up parallel to the shore, the closest, then the next, then the furthest, looking under the seats, in, out, to all then back to the bank.  I thought at first they were looking for a place to sleep, but maybe they were looking for food.

A smartly dressed man with a plastic carrier bag came down the steps.  He took a big picture in a frame out of the carrier bag and threw the picture in its frame into The Ganga.

In front of us was a red boat, it matched the red scarf Anthony was wearing.  ‘We’re a long way from Harleston,’ he said.  Yet at the same time, we’re only a visa and a plane ticket away, the same amount of money some people will spend on a sofa and new carpets.

Another man came down with a red bucket and tipped out mushy food for the dogs.  He tipped one pile, the dogs all fought over it, he moved along, tipped out another pile, all the dogs went to that one, he tipped another pile, the same thing happened again; before one dog eventually went back to the first pile where there were no other dogs.  In spite of the initial squabbling, six dogs all got fed.

‘Hello, Namaste.’  The man called to us.  ‘You are a good man.’  I said.
‘I try to be a good man,’ he answered.

On the way back, on the floor of the stone steps were red, orange, and yellow smudges of powder from the ceremonies.

I fed the rest of the sweets to a dog with puppies; I thought I was being kind but behind us we heard lots of angry barking as if I had caused a family argument.

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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 two weeks to live on a narrowboat.  Writing a book about everything…

For more photographs of the trip see Instagram travelswithanthony

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