Munnar

The mountains that surround Munnar are flanked by tea plantations.Some of the most beautiful country I have ever laid my eyes on.The greenest of green as far as the eye can see.The air crisp,clean and pure.

I liked our bus driver,don't get me wrong he had the craze that makes riding a bus in India exciting,very intense eyes,only smiling to break into a crazy laugh.Foot to the floor,bidi hanging out of his mouth...and always a thick mustache.

Two things have worked for me since arriving in Kerala.My Russian Futurists button,Kerala has a Communist elected government.And that my name is Chris, there is an Indian movie that was released this year called kris,spelled with a K. Kris is a super hero,India's equivalent to superman.So never under estimate the power of a button and a name when traveling in India.They take there Superhero's,Gods and Politics very seriously!

There is a small restaurant in Munnar called the Bamboo Hut,it's owned by a sculptor named Isaac.Most of the restaurants in Munnar are ordinary,I noticed the Bamboo Hut the night of my arrival.It was late and after my eight hour bus ride I wanted a comfortable bed.

The next day I dropped by the Bamboo Hut,it had only been open 16 days.Issac and I hit it off immediately,the town was about to go on a one day strike.A one day shut down to protest against the communist government.The Congress party had been in power for 20 years before losing to the Communist party this past year. The leader of the Congress party had caused some trouble,I doubt it was of the drunken brawling sort,but enough to land his behind in jail.He is very popular in Munnar,my button is not!My upward nods and smiles turned to downward nods and frowns.So in protest of there leader being hauled off to jail,the town will shut down for one day.Issac assured me not to worry,drop by tomorrow and you will be taken care of.

The next day I awoke from my late night stupor of biscuits and chai,I knew that third glass of chai was a mistake,sometimes you gotta live a little.I take to the streets,and sure enough not a thing is open.There is no one around,not a soul in sight.It was a little eerie,almost as if the town had become deserted overnight.A ghost town in the span of a few hours.

I show up at the Bamboo hut and Issac asks,"how do you feel about hiking?"...Hiking?I'm all about hiking...!So we start to hike,I'm wearing my black office shoes,a toque and a blazer.Yes well prepared for hiking!After two hours of "hiking" I ask,"Are we there yet papa smurf" he doesn't understand the reference but giggles anyway,telling me we'll be in time for lunch.And tea...what about tea? Will there be tea as well?We walk through a maze of tea plantations,a tea lovers dream,the olfactory organs all charged up with clean mountainous air,tea leaves and something cooking not to far off.Up a hill,across a bridge,through a lagoon,all the while being mocked and laughed at by the crows.

We arrive at Issacs mom's place to a beautiful spread of Thali all layed out for us.
Thali is an India dish that generally consists of some rice,curd(yogurt),Dal, vegetables,chapati,papad,pickle or chutney and a sweet dish.There are different variations from region to region,North to South.It's delicious,quite filling and takes care of indecision at lunch time.

After lunch we took a walk over to Issac's grandfathers house,he looked to be around 105 and was wearing a tea towel on his head.I could tell they were very close after some conversation of what I gathered to be of a serious nature. Isaac later told me that his grandfather was happy that he had moved back to Munnar from Chennai.After tea we slowly made our way back to town,most of the trek was downhill,avoiding the lagoons and the hills,the crows still mocked and laughed at us!

VARKALA

So I hopped a train,saying goodbye to the ganga,the chess players and the great Sadhu's that line the river bed.Oh and I can't forget about the holy shit,the little old man with the tea towel turban,the Merudi guesthouse and the German that threw his passport into the river screaming that he's renouncing the world forever and ever and evermore!.My train sped off with the ferocity that only an Indian train can,the ocean in it's sights,steam rolling along to it's destination thirty eight hours later. Goodbye Varanasi!!!

Finding my bunk on the train,I quickly made some new friends introducing my chessboard as my travelling companion.The chess and card games made the hours pass and took us into the night.Khursheed and his family spoke very little Hindi or english,there first language was Tamil.But it didn't seem to matter,the will to learn and patience broke through our communication barrier.

They were heading to Trivandrum for the Junior Carrom Championships.Which is a game played by flicking coins into a pocket,and are identical to Checker pieces.You strike the coin into the pocket using your finger as your striker.It's also called finger billiards.Well after some explaining I was convinced that this was a game I could be interested in,so I promised I would show up in Trivandrum at the competition by the 3rd of January.First I had a date with the ocean and the sun that I just could not bring myself to break.

So Khursheed and his family of carrom players got off in Trivandrum and I continued on toward Eravikulam.That is where my ticket was made out to.All I wanted was a beach,a palm tree and some fresh pineapple.I was now riding in a car with forty men that were on a pilgimage.It seemed more like a party than a pilgrimage,but hey what do I know about pilgrims!They were all computer software programmers from Bangalore.They've been doing this for the last seventeen years.No women,only the men!

I switched bunks so they could all be together.Myself and another girl were the only non pilgrims in the car.She was coming from Chennai,a university student on her way home to visit her family.We talked about Ghandi,the political situation in Kerala and how much cleaner Kerala is compared to the rest of India.There slogan is "Gods own Country" which I was quick to repeat to anyone throwing garbage out the trains window.She also spoke of a place called silent valley,it's claim is to be so silent that you can't even hear the crickets cricketing.I suggested that maybe the crickets took a vow of silence.God I crack myself up sometimes!

I decided to get off at Varkala,a couple stops after my scheduled stop.I hadn't seen the ticket inspector in awhile so I figured that I was safe.I said goodbye to the pilgrims and my non pilgrim friend.Hopped off the train,bought a juice and a bunch of banana's and set off on foot.

Arriving in Varkala the day before New Years eve without a hotel booked was not a good idea.Although they were totally full till the middle of January the people at Jicky's guest house were kind enough to let me use there phone and store my backpack till I secured a place to stay.Which I did!Next door at a place called Bina's.Actually it was more of a shack than a room,and it came with colourful giant red ants,spiders the size of small puppies,a giant cockaroacha that flies and skitters and a rat that only comes out at night...how thoughtful!On the advice of a well travelled friend and woman of the world.I decided to give my friends names.The giant red army ants will be the home team,than there is Ratzo Rizo, Connor the cockaroacha and I will give honourable mention to Sal the saavy Salamander.

There was another girl staying at Bina's who had like me,not booked a room and was a bit stranded.She was a little bit choked when I told her I was only paying 150 rupees/night,that is until she saw what I was getting for my 150 rupees.Quickly her average room turned into the penthouse suite.Tressa(Irish for Teresa)was on a holiday,three weeks in total.We wandered the beach,ate some fresh pineapple and exchanged stories.Another friend that I hadn't seen in over two years was coming to Varkala to spend New years with me.We last saw each other in Victoria,BC,both of us at the time expressing a keen interest in coming to India.Two and a half years later we land in India within a month of one another.

Tressa and Teresa got on well,having quite a bit in common.We made a plan to be enjoying an oceanside fish dinner come New Years eve.The water was warm and lovely,the three of us walked along the beach in silence with only the sounds of fireworks and the waves crashing on the beach to fill the quiet night.

The next day I slept in till 10 in the AM.Starting out in Kashmir waking up at 5am every morning I had worked up till 10am.Teresa and I had made a plan to start the year off with a three day juice fast.There is a juice bar on every corner in India...are Lassi's ok?We decided that yes Lassi's were ok.Ghandi would fast every Monday and take a vow of silence only communicating through the written word and hand gestures.

Teresa needed to get back to work and I had a Carrom championship to attend.I love the freedom that travelling alone allows.Jumping on and off trains,attending Carrom championships,taking in a beach,fasting....ahh life is truly beautiful!

Ganges purples,pinks and,Blues

India is a carnival of sights and sounds.A circus every single day!A festival of colour,a festival music,a sadhu festival,a festival for astrologers,a festival for textiles,jugglers,a festival for dancers.No admission needed,just walk out into the street and it's all there waiting for you.

India is best discovered by foot and when your shoes wear out there will be someone who is willing to fix them,for a few rupees of course.I didn't bother bringing any special shoes to India,and I've done heaps of walking.The soul of my one shoe cracked when I was in Varanasi,I discovered this one fine day,when stepping in Cow shit.Swearing has never really been my thing,however I may have cursed and said something to the extent of "shit,goddamn,fucking cow!",and as I was saying it I looked up and locked eyes with the cutest little old man wearing a tea towel on his head.He simply said "holy shit,good luck!"This is the beauty of India!

Varanasi one of the oldest and holiest cities in all of India,it's five thousand years old,furthermore that's five thousand years of recorded time.So who knows how old the city actually is.The town lies along the Ganges,which may be one of the most polluted bodies of water in the world,this doesn't stop the people of Varanasi from drinking it,bathing in it,washing there dishes or just taking a mid-afternoon dip,this is what I call faith!

You really feel the heaviness of the place.At the one end is the burning ghat where the Hindu's bring there dead to be cremated.You are strictly forbidden to take pictures.A Japanese couple either forgot to read this in there Japanese version of lonely planet or they decided to ignore the rule.They got hauled off to jail.I used to live in Ottawa and it would just about kill me to watch Japanese tourists posing with the decorative guards in front of the governor generals residence.Which makes me wonder if the same goes for burning bodies in Varanasi.

Along the river hundreds of flowers with candles are set adrift that you light at sun set.A large bell was ringing sending vibrating messages across Mother Ganga.There was chanting coming from all directions,mixed in with the beautiful sounds of sitars and strange instruments.Everything was illuminated with sound and colour,I tried to imagine what Varanasi was like five thousand years ago.Nothing has changed,only the faces.

The morning time by the river is magical,waking up at five AM and walking down to the river,having a chai and a thought.The river is set aglow with shades of purple,pinks and blues,a collaborative effort between the morning sun and the ghats that line the Ganges.

Down around the ghats at night there is a big chess scene.Chess originated in India and some say that playing cards was derived from chess.I got in the habit of coming down at night and playing with the locals.I was at a bit of a disadvantage not knowing Hindi.During these games it was the norm to have a crowd of twenty or more watching the game shouting random moves out or even reaching over and moving your pieces for you.The wins and losses bounced back and forth.With each loss came chants of "India,India,India!!!".I enjoyed my time in Varanasi and may return before heading back to Canada.

Before coming to India I loaded up my i-pod for those long train hauls.I haven't really used it much,If you haven't listened to "A meeting by the River" it's an album by Vishua Mohan Bhatt and Ry Cooder.You must own this record.I walked up and down the river from Ghat to Ghat listening to this.Track three Ganges delta blues will blow your mind!

"Christmas Tree Sunset" in Mcloud Ganj

Mcleod Ganj,sitting on a mountain ridge at 1700 feet overlooking Dharmsala in the valley.Yes a little haven in the sky amidst the mighty snow capped Himalaya's.I notice three monks elegantly dressed in burgundy robes.I greet there smiles with "Namaste" they giggle and keep on walking.Looking down I realise I'm wearing my bright red "Have you seen the Dalai Lama T-shirt?".I don't think they have!I than purchase a croissant from a shop with a sign that reads "frsh fish crosnt yummy dlishes"I deduce that a typo has been wrought.I find a stoop to enjoy my croissant on.I calculate that the only thing fishy about this croissant is it's about three days old.I share it with a dog,a new friend.He nods in agreement that the croissant is at least three days old.I spend the afternoon walking,getting acquainted with the town.My new friend tags along.I nickname him pugwash...pug for short.I purchase a fancy Flaro bracelet made of yak bone and a chessboard made of wood.The bracelet will give my wrist that sexy well travelled look and the chessboard I will use to make friends.The Dalai Lama in spirit is in all the shops.A photo of the man in his sharp looking bifocals graces every wall of every store.I ask the owner of one shop if he can arrange a meeting with his holiness?I tell him I'm from Canada and proceed to make an ass of myself drawing a parallel between the Dalai Lama and Anne of green gables. Unfortunately I was alone with not a friend in sight to stop me,so I continue with my absurd comparison.Yes see Anne (I call her Anne) graces all the shops and stores of Prince Edward Island.It may be a provincial law that you must have a picture of her holiness in your store,but don't quote me on that?I also make "note to self" that he seems to be getting a little steamed.I contemplate "what would Larry do?"Yes Larry David would take it even further.I once saw this Anne of Green Gables snow globe I say to my new friend.Yes picture this...The Dalai Lama in a snow globe surrounded by mountains-his big smile being snowed upon by big white fluffy snow flakes.A million dollar idea!

So what do you think?

Raul and his Goonda's!

I've kind of gotten away from The lonely planet guide to India also known by some as "The Bible".It wasn't really giving me that old time religion that I be needing!Though the writers were quite right about Jammu in stating "you really have no reason to go there" The next stop was Dharamsala-this is where his holiness "The Dalai Lama" calls home.If I was going to make it to Dharamsala I didn't have any choice but to go through Jammu.Arriving at 10pm that evening I was certain there would be a connecting bus out that night.If the bible says there isn't a reason to stay here than there must be a bus leaving for Dharmsala at 10:05 in the pm.I wish I could tell everyone that I didn't have the pleasure to spend the night in Jammu or that the Bible was so wrong and the town provided me with spiritual riches beyond one's wildest dreams and comprehension.

Well I did spend the night in Jammu,and it was a living breathing hell!Stepping off the bus into complete and utter chaos I decided first find out the status of the next bus to Dharmsala.The next bus leaves tomorrow morning at 8am and conveniently there is a hotel right next to the bus station.I believe it's name was Palace Jammu but I could be making that up.I was greeted by this fat greasy Dodgy fellow named Raul,very Indian name.Running his pudgy fingers through his wet,greasy hair than extending his hand out to me,"hi,my name is Raul" I unwillingly shake his hand,than ponder if this is what shaking hands with a wet sponge might feel like.Getting to the point I tell him I need a room,the cheaper the better.He takes me on a tour of the hotel,this is when I notice we weren't alone and several of his goonda's had also come for the tour. So we enter the room and the first thing I notice is the unmade bed.Definitely not a good sign!I give him my 300 rupees and he leaves.I lift up the mattress and get an ear full from about a half dozen angry cockroaches who didn't appreciate the interruption. I believe there was a meeting of sorts going on and I wasn't invited.My next observation was the giant rat droppings above the toilet.This is also when I noticed the massive hole in the floor...just big enough for a giant rat to crawl through.So I sit on my bed pretending to read,one eye on the page and the other on that giant hole in the bathroom floor.I look up at the clock-it reads 5:32...by the state of the room I calculate that time stopped here at 5:32 December 3rd,1963.Did something just move in the bathroom?I hear a scream come from down the hall.I start to sweat....my whole body itches!!I need to get the fuck out of here right now!!Over the years I have become quite the expert at packing and unpacking my backpack.Tonight I will shatter all previous records!Grabbing my bag I bolt out of the room into total darkness not a Raul or a flickering light in sight.I stumble into a room tripping over a body either lying dead or sleeping on the floor,which makes perfect sense at the time.Realizing I still have my room key in hand and hoping I don't run into Raul or any of his goonda's,I leap through a magical door landing in an alley to the right of the hotel.I look at my wrist which reads 1 in the AM.I don't wear a watch and will likely never own one.Seven more hours till my bus for Dharmsala arrives.His Holiness awaits!

Hotpots,salutes and one armed hugs!

Having learned from my Delhi experience I had arranged to be picked up and made plans to stay in a guesthouse for one week.My rides name was Arafat who was extremely excited to see me offering hugs and chai right off the bus. Kashmir felt at first like a town right out of the old west.Tea stalls,fancy cloth house's and Kashmirian handicraft stores opened up onto the road.Auto-rickshaws zoomed by,on the other side of the street there was a heavy military presence waiting to be attacked by rebels waiting in the hills.This town had a pulse and I was happy to be here.The mode of dress in Kashmir is one hotpot,these really great flannel plaid pants and a shawl.The winters here can be very cold and there is no heat unless you count baseboard heaters that rarely work and catch fire from time to time.You put the shawl over your head with one arm tucked in to hold your hotpot and with the other you can eat,wave,give one armed hugs and even salute the soldiers if you wish.At the moment I needed a nap,tomorrow I meet the honey lady!

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face,stars to fill my dream

I am a traveler of both time and space,to be where I have been

To sit with elders of the gentle race,this world has seldom seen.

They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed.

"Kashmir"

Led Zeppelin

Have a kingfisher for health,beauty and wisdom!

I had no intention of going to Kashmir.It wasn't part of my non existent itinerary.The lonely planet warns against it,a Canadian went missing there nearly eight years ago after setting off on a trek only to be ambushed by some rebels.So why go to Kashmir?

My bus set out an hour later than the scheduled time.On the advice of Dangola I hurried so I could secure the back seat.The bus ride to Srinagar was going to be no less than 24 hours and anyone that has taken a long bus ride knows that the back seat is golden when it comes time to getting some shut eye.To my unabashed surprise the bus was only half full with me being the only westerner.Up to now I hadn't seen any westerners.Our bus driver looked like the Indian version of Ralph Kramden only with a bidi sticking out of his mouth.

After sleeping for who knows how many hours I woke up to that feeling you get when you fall asleep in a plane and look out the window only to see a blanket of white.Only this time it was a three hundred foot drop off a cliff.Our bus was roller coastering up the side of a mountain,hugging the edge than rolling down the other side with on coming traffic barreling our way.Every news article that I had ever come across over the last ten years concerning buses flying off cliffs in India killing all 28 Indians and the one Canadian came flashing before my eyes.All I could do was stare out the window and down into the Valley admiring the beauty trying to forget about the bidi smoking madman behind the wheel.Attempting to sleep I was cajoled from my waking sleep into the realm of travelling by bus in India,which ended up being more contemplative than meditative.Flying through the air like Charley Brown getting knocked off the mound by Lucy,my backpack landing on top of me wearing a crown of kingfishers circling my head while snickering.

Fear and loathing in New Delhi...

The descent into Delhi was taking forever.I was on a high from my four days in Italy and was frightened to death of what was waiting for me once I landed. I cleared customs,collected my baggage and my wits,it was time to face the chaos known as Delhi.One foot in front of the other I started to walk.I had banana custard on my mind and my monday afternoon breakfasts at sneaky dees.

Entering the foyer at Delhi international I was greeted by a few hundred of my closest friends.And they were all promising the best of the best that Delhi had to offer.Cheap motels,cheap cologne...a foot massage for 100% guaranteed enlightenment,almost free taxi rides,money exchange,car rental,people rental,a vacuum cleaner that comes with a monkey for all your cleaning needs.Everything was right here in the foyer at Delhi international.So I grabbed the first auto-rickshaw and told him to take me to the broadview hotel.We drove forever to discover that the hotel was booked up and I paid about two hundred rupees to much for the cab.Apparently my calm,cool,collected and I'm in charge demeanor wasn't fooling anyone.Thank god for me that the nice man at the reception desk was so,so kind to call around to find me accommodations.A crappy to half decent hotel in Delhi shouldn't cost more than 1000 rupees which comes to approximately $20 Canadian.So he gets off the phone all excited giddy with joy that he found me a place and it will only cost me 2500 rupees.I agreed and he gave me the directions to the hotel.I left and started to walk...the alley was strewn with makeshift fires,three legged dogs,moans and cries coming out of the shadows.The night had just become that much darker.The panic started to set in,the paranoia...what I would give right now for some banana custard.Someone was walking towards me out of the dark.I shouted "who goes there?"I think my feet saw the long bony finger before my eyes did because before I knew what was happening I was booting it down the alley running for my dear Canadian life.
Coming out of the alley I was cornered by three auto-rickshaws yelling incomprehensible things at me in Hindi.I was half listening looking behind me to make sure whatever was attached to that long bony finger wasn't giving chase.I asked to be taken to a cheap hotel.The hotel wasn't cheap but it was nice.It didn't take long for me to fall asleep dreaming of banana custard.

Leaving Toronto.....

He sits down at a long table and looks into his school geography

book with the maps of the world,the white sweeps of current,testing

the names to himself,mouthing out the exotic.

Caspian. Nepal. Durango. He closes the book and brushes it

with his palms.Feeling the texture of the pebbled cover and

it's coloured dyes which create a map of Canada.

Michael Ondaatje,

"In the skin of a lion"