Yesterday was the first Sunday in YEARS where I didn't do a Sunday blog post - strangely, there were no questions posted. I think Bev at Sunday Stealing is having a few difficulties.
Anyway, today is the last day of my holiday. I'm currently camped out at the Cordis Hotel in Hong Kong, which has to be one of the loveliest places I have stayed in my life. It's amazing. Fantastic staff and service, the best hotel pool I've ever swam in, great views and location. I'd happily stay here again.
Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end and at midnight tonight I fly back to Australia and an uncertain future (my contract is up at the end of the month and I'm looking at a few weeks of 'funemployment' which would really do me the world of good if I'm honest. A job will come in the new year).
Anyway, I thought today I'd do a wrap up of the holiday. I have so much to write about, so many things flying through my head, a potted version of what went on over the last few days is in order.
This really has been the trip of a lifetime.
I'll put this into categories, to make things easier.
What I forgot to bring?
I'm an over-packer, but to my credit, I used pretty much everything in my bag. The one thing that I really could have used in my pharmacy pack of a drugs - eyedrops. The air quality in Delhi was so bad kids were kept home from school. Now in Hong Kong, my eyes are suffering from all the air conditioning. I bought everything else. Pharmacies could not be found around where I was staying.
I like being an Australian
Don't say this very often, but I am fond of some of my decent Australian traits. I like our general equalities. I like that we know how to queue. I love how we can strike up a conversation with pretty much anybody. I love that I'm resilient and adaptable. I'm glad that I've the ability to look at a situation, nod, smile and laugh (Very useful thing to have in India).
In India, you get called M'am a lot. It doesn't sit well with me. I found myself apologising and thanking people. The people are so friendly and try to be helpful. It's a strange dichotomy.
In the pool last night, I struck up a conversation with a guy from Wagga Wagga - as you do. He said the same thing - we Aussies are curious about the world. We want to find out more. We will talk to anybody. It's good.
Family is what you make of them
Indian weddings are about family and about show. They aren't really about the couple when it all boils down to it - something we Aussies found a bit strange.
At the wedding there were eleven of us from Australia. Most of whom worked with the bride in Sydney. Rue, Priya's office Mum. Al and Annette, and Mac, Martina and their five teenage kids.
For reasons I can't go into and don't get, none of Raj's family attended the wedding - a huge hole in proceedings for any wedding.
So we Aussies did our best to make up for the Raj's family sized hole.
Mac, a senior manager at the bank, stepped up in a father role.
Me, well I've been calling Raj my adopted brother for years, but I also go to be sort of be Mum.
We all rallied around Raj, trying our best to make sure he got the wedding he deserved, with people he could call family.
Raj and I went shopping on the day of the wedding - partly because after a week in India I wanted a little bit of normality, and I'd left my foundation at home, and I was getting ratty and wanted a bit of Western life (and there wasn't a McDonalds about, which is where you go in foreign countries when you need something familiar and besides, they sell no beef at McDonalds in India). The hotel left us pretty isolated - and shopping centres are few and far between. We had a puddle around the shops and had lunch in a food court, Raj ordering a food court lunch, Indian style. It was a time I'll treasure. Something Mum and son (or in our case, adopted siblings) would do anywhere on the day of the wedding. Which was held at the civilised tome of 6 pm - and not the traditional midnight.
It was the most maternal I've ever felt.
Leaving India on Saturday, I know I've walked away with friends. Mac and Martina's kids were some of the nicest young humans I've met in years (even got a hug goodbye from their twelve and fourteen year old boys - without asking - like did that even happen?)
I can live without Wifi
Indian telecommunications are interesting, especially if you're on the Telstra network in Australia. Yes, you can get and make calls and texts, but mobile data is not available to you. (and please don't tell me to get a Vodaphone account where you can get data at $5 a day while overseas - no chance)
There was always Wifi at the hotels - but there was no mobile data available during the day.
I survived. The digital detox did me the world of good.
Bottle water: Saviour or Sinner
I hate to think about the number of bottles of water I've used in the last ten days. The overuse of plastic horrifies me, but not quite as much as explosive diarrhoea, stomach cramps, fevers and vomiting. Thankfully I didn't get sick while I was over there, but being really vigilant with the bottled water and hand sanitiser probably helped.
Unwanted Observance
On the streets. It's maybe a cultural/socio-economic thing, or maybe it's a hygiene thing or maybe it's scabies, but Indian men touch themselves a hell of a lot more than Western men, who've probably had the habit of regular groin adjusting knocked out of them in early childhood. Once seen, it can't be unseen. Ah well. (A friend told me before I left,"In India, things that are seen as private here are very much public." Spitting, urination, defecating… you don't have to look hard -just watch where your feet are going.)
Things I have missed:
In no real order:
I had seven hours at Varanasi airport because of delays caused by the pollution. In that time I befriended a Gujarat family, had dinner with the wonderful Linda and Matthew from Hornsby, who were also delayed, comparing a lot of notes, had a half hour conversation, in French, with some Parisians, found a first name mate to board the plane with (we looked after each other's stuff when we needed to go to the loo). It made the ever growing delay almost okay - which is what you need when you're stuck in a regional airport in India.
When we finally arrived in Delhi at 1 am, my transfer was nowhere to be seen and my was phone dead. Managed to wangle a call to the hotel from a driver, and proceeded to hang out with the transfer man from the Holiday Inn until the driver turned up half an hour later.
Delhi is notoriously not a safe place for women at night. This is a blog post in its own right. But a bit of nous and resilience got me through.
My favourite bits of the last ten days:
In no order:
Onward.
Today's Song:
Anyway, today is the last day of my holiday. I'm currently camped out at the Cordis Hotel in Hong Kong, which has to be one of the loveliest places I have stayed in my life. It's amazing. Fantastic staff and service, the best hotel pool I've ever swam in, great views and location. I'd happily stay here again.
Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end and at midnight tonight I fly back to Australia and an uncertain future (my contract is up at the end of the month and I'm looking at a few weeks of 'funemployment' which would really do me the world of good if I'm honest. A job will come in the new year).
Anyway, I thought today I'd do a wrap up of the holiday. I have so much to write about, so many things flying through my head, a potted version of what went on over the last few days is in order.
This really has been the trip of a lifetime.
I'll put this into categories, to make things easier.
What I forgot to bring?
I'm an over-packer, but to my credit, I used pretty much everything in my bag. The one thing that I really could have used in my pharmacy pack of a drugs - eyedrops. The air quality in Delhi was so bad kids were kept home from school. Now in Hong Kong, my eyes are suffering from all the air conditioning. I bought everything else. Pharmacies could not be found around where I was staying.
I like being an Australian
Don't say this very often, but I am fond of some of my decent Australian traits. I like our general equalities. I like that we know how to queue. I love how we can strike up a conversation with pretty much anybody. I love that I'm resilient and adaptable. I'm glad that I've the ability to look at a situation, nod, smile and laugh (Very useful thing to have in India).
In India, you get called M'am a lot. It doesn't sit well with me. I found myself apologising and thanking people. The people are so friendly and try to be helpful. It's a strange dichotomy.
In the pool last night, I struck up a conversation with a guy from Wagga Wagga - as you do. He said the same thing - we Aussies are curious about the world. We want to find out more. We will talk to anybody. It's good.
Family is what you make of them
Indian weddings are about family and about show. They aren't really about the couple when it all boils down to it - something we Aussies found a bit strange.
At the wedding there were eleven of us from Australia. Most of whom worked with the bride in Sydney. Rue, Priya's office Mum. Al and Annette, and Mac, Martina and their five teenage kids.
For reasons I can't go into and don't get, none of Raj's family attended the wedding - a huge hole in proceedings for any wedding.
So we Aussies did our best to make up for the Raj's family sized hole.
Mac, a senior manager at the bank, stepped up in a father role.
Me, well I've been calling Raj my adopted brother for years, but I also go to be sort of be Mum.
We all rallied around Raj, trying our best to make sure he got the wedding he deserved, with people he could call family.
Raj and I went shopping on the day of the wedding - partly because after a week in India I wanted a little bit of normality, and I'd left my foundation at home, and I was getting ratty and wanted a bit of Western life (and there wasn't a McDonalds about, which is where you go in foreign countries when you need something familiar and besides, they sell no beef at McDonalds in India). The hotel left us pretty isolated - and shopping centres are few and far between. We had a puddle around the shops and had lunch in a food court, Raj ordering a food court lunch, Indian style. It was a time I'll treasure. Something Mum and son (or in our case, adopted siblings) would do anywhere on the day of the wedding. Which was held at the civilised tome of 6 pm - and not the traditional midnight.
It was the most maternal I've ever felt.
Leaving India on Saturday, I know I've walked away with friends. Mac and Martina's kids were some of the nicest young humans I've met in years (even got a hug goodbye from their twelve and fourteen year old boys - without asking - like did that even happen?)
I can live without Wifi
Indian telecommunications are interesting, especially if you're on the Telstra network in Australia. Yes, you can get and make calls and texts, but mobile data is not available to you. (and please don't tell me to get a Vodaphone account where you can get data at $5 a day while overseas - no chance)
There was always Wifi at the hotels - but there was no mobile data available during the day.
I survived. The digital detox did me the world of good.
Bottle water: Saviour or Sinner
I hate to think about the number of bottles of water I've used in the last ten days. The overuse of plastic horrifies me, but not quite as much as explosive diarrhoea, stomach cramps, fevers and vomiting. Thankfully I didn't get sick while I was over there, but being really vigilant with the bottled water and hand sanitiser probably helped.
Unwanted Observance
On the streets. It's maybe a cultural/socio-economic thing, or maybe it's a hygiene thing or maybe it's scabies, but Indian men touch themselves a hell of a lot more than Western men, who've probably had the habit of regular groin adjusting knocked out of them in early childhood. Once seen, it can't be unseen. Ah well. (A friend told me before I left,"In India, things that are seen as private here are very much public." Spitting, urination, defecating… you don't have to look hard -just watch where your feet are going.)
Things I have missed:
In no real order:
- Cleaning my teeth using water from the tap
- Salad and green vegetables (Salads are an hard to go without, but as you don't know what they were washed in, easier to stay away)
- Stars (didn't see one in Delhi, Varanasi or Hong Kong)
- Getting a straight answer - obfuscation is something in which Indians all have Masters Degrees
- Obedient traffic that doesn't use the horn for every simple traffic movement
- Animals with apparent, loving owners on the streets
- Short queues
- Soft selling techniques
I had seven hours at Varanasi airport because of delays caused by the pollution. In that time I befriended a Gujarat family, had dinner with the wonderful Linda and Matthew from Hornsby, who were also delayed, comparing a lot of notes, had a half hour conversation, in French, with some Parisians, found a first name mate to board the plane with (we looked after each other's stuff when we needed to go to the loo). It made the ever growing delay almost okay - which is what you need when you're stuck in a regional airport in India.
When we finally arrived in Delhi at 1 am, my transfer was nowhere to be seen and my was phone dead. Managed to wangle a call to the hotel from a driver, and proceeded to hang out with the transfer man from the Holiday Inn until the driver turned up half an hour later.
Delhi is notoriously not a safe place for women at night. This is a blog post in its own right. But a bit of nous and resilience got me through.
My favourite bits of the last ten days:
In no order:
- The ghats at Varanasi
- That cycle rickshaw ride through the streets of Varanasi
- The Taj Mahal
- Agra Fort
- Karahi Paneer. If I stayed longer I would turn into Karahi Paneer - or just paneer in general. Love paneer.
- Masala chai, even down to having to skim the skin off the top.
- The whole process of the Indian Wedding and being there for the kid brother
- Getting to know Rue, Al, Annette, Mac, Martina and their tribe.
- My favourite dumpling bar in Tsim Sha Tsui
- The last day in Delhi with Rue, a driver named Dalip, the Gandhi museums and the Qutar Minar.
- Not having to wear seat belts in the back seat of a car.
- The Jama Masjid Mosque.
- My mehendi. It went really dark. Tradition has it there is somebody out there who loves me very much - just have to find out who that is. I'll have the patterns on my hands for another week.
Onward.
Today's Song:
1 comment:
Sounds like you've had an amazing time, Pand.
:o)
Cheers
PM
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