From Kathmandu to Manchester... Reflections of Asia

All things come to an end. All things must begin. Nothing stands still. 

I left Kathmandu nearly two months ago and haven't written a thing here since. Should I stop blogging? Maybe I should. But I can't leave the Bhutanical Adventure hanging from a paraglider like I did. Here's a blog for all the amazing people I met along the way on the streets, cities, villages, fields, mountains and airports of Asia.

As I cast glances back over the last 16 months it's interesting to see what comes bubbling up from recall first. Inevitably, it's people. I've never really understood the 'bomb around the world fast as you can ticking off sights' type of travelling. Temples are buildings, stones neatly arranged, often stunning, always symbolic with stories that go back far and inevitably have some interesting or disturbing aspects to them, but no matter how striking their sunset silhouettes, no matter how compelling their symbols and stories might be, there's no actual life in them; they don't look back at you. They don't question or challenge or reach out to you the way a person does.

So what do I see in those first flash images of remembering? I see Charles and the staff of the Atlanta gathered on the street to wave me off. I see my friend Arvind splayed out asleep on the floor, taking a break from his own wild party, Mayoor harmonising with me on Across the Universe, my friend 'Satan' rolling his eyes.

Bee and Om leaning lazily on Baby Rasta'a counters. Hari's character transforming  as the first glass of rice wine hits his belly. Sipping outrageously expensive red wine with Sigi in the Garden of Dreams or tucking into yet another Red Snapper with the American lad who wanted me to help him overcome his fear of fish. 

Martin and Tara diving deeper than I ever could do to get the scuba mask I let fall into the tropical waters. Being smashed against the rocks with Linnea. The BCF-ers, cocktails in hand, dancing madly to 'Firework' in Mark's living room. The buzz of the couple of hours spent playing with a band in Thimphu. Ashley laughing, Iman, laughing, Reidi, laughing, Martha making weird noises (rest in peace you beautiful and funny soul). 

Gold-panners in Burma showing off their haul, the kids shouting out A for Apple at the top of their voices, drowned out by all the other classes crammed into the 1-room school. The mysterious Snow telling me she loves me and me not believing her (!). Ayurveda acolytes assaulting me with endless reductions to vata-pitta-kapha. Noorin's surprise birthday jollies. Late night narrative structure conversations with screenwriters on the streets of Bangkok. Devouring Chinese New Year fish with Zoe. 

Epic snooker-a-thons with New Yorkers in backrooms of Burmese bars. The walk to the waterfall that wasn't there. Strangers approaching with probably menace through the late-night haze of Kathmandu. Desperate runs through Bangalore to save friends in trouble, policemen like robots, impervious to my rage. Paranoid Cumbrian climbers. Endless games of chess. Paul and his big planets, trying to sell me his shoes! The way Robyn giggled at every one.

The way my crazy Russian friend sang 'Start Wearing Purple' as he prepared the infamous Russian Smoking Machine that I never tried (his disappointment at my polite refusals). Riding through the jungle in the exhaust fumes of people I hardly knew, no clear idea where we were going. The monk who saved me when I was lost in the jungles of Myanmar (3am) and the music festival stumbled upon prior to my addled walk into nowhere. The kid with the tattoo tears who killed a man in prison and taught me some moves. French-gypsy guitar madness in the reggae bar.

Ahsley throwing her arms around me and planting a smacker as i took my final taxi to my final plane home...

...the list could go on and will never be complete. Thanks to everybody who made this latest adventure more sparkly than it might have otherwise been. You're all fabulous. I hope to see you all again. 

What drew me home? Family. Friends. My new nephew!!! And the next grand adventure of life, whatever it may be... 

     

Paragliding in Nepal

Flying...

Out of India and into Nepal

Well. India happened pretty quickly and with hardly any blogging. It was bonkers. I'll try to cover it quickly here and leave room later for some reflections. This is quick - I've got to dash with no sparing of the horses. Time for my first bullet-point blog...

1) It was hot. Too hot. Nothing to do but die in the afternoon hot. That hot. Sweaty me.

2) I went in to a recording studio one very hot afternoon with an ice cream and met two fabulous fellows and we turned the random trip into a commitment of sorts - a day of recording. This was traumatic. I had completely forgotten how dead a 'dead room' sounds. Like your singing into a piece of concrete. So I had a hard time digging out any kind of feeling, but I think we got there in the end. Should hear the tracks in a week or so. Good version of the Hat Song, one hopes, and another one I wrote about returning home from an all-nighter with the girl of your dreams, only to find out she's dreaming about the guy of her dreams. Who is not you. Oh dear.

3) The toilet hose is a magnificent invention and should be exported into our culture. I may export it into my bathroom if I ever get one.

4) The couch surfing guys I met opened my eyes to couch surfing, which is a good thing to have one's eyes opened to and a far more engaging and connecting way to see places - straight to the locals, but straight to more broad-minded and open-hearted folk generally.

5) The police are painfully useless. Sorry, but I found myself screaming vitriol into an officers face while a friend of mine was in serious trouble and he was doing nothing whatsoever about it. He somehow managed to keep smiling afterwards. Awkwardly, I hope, but still. Smiling. And doing nothing.

6) India has a remarkable amount of people. Remarkable and unmanageable. I can't imagine how governance works here, but then again, from conversations I've had and from experiences too, I'm led to believe that it sorta doesn't.

7) I rode a jet ski for the first time

Now I'm in Nepal. It is COOL. Temperature-wise. 

This is the culmination of the dream and I've patiently waited 15 months to go see the big mountains, having been tantalized by their proximity during my time in Bhutan but given no opportunity to get close. So tomorrow I'm rafting and camping. The day after I'm paragliding near the Annapurnas. Next week I head out to Langtang with a port/guide for 3 weeks of trekking. Of course, I've got my back problems to worry about, but drawing inspiration from Jane McGonigal, I've devised an ingenious gaming strategy to minimise my discomfort and defeat my evil nemesis... the sciatica. It''s all about keeping them discs happy and grabbing as many power-ups as you can ;-)

For those of you who haven't heard her remarkable story - click here... 

Jane McGonigal

(http://www.ted.com/talks/jane_mcgonigal_the_game_that_can_give_you_10_extra_years_of_life.html)

(why is everything suddenly so remarkable?)

Relaxing in the Great City of Bangalore

I'm in Bangalore. It's great. I'm staying with a few friends. One is Mayoor. I met him in Bhutan when he was couch-surfing in Gedu with Professor Istvan, the Professor in question being the closest and pretty much only 'westerner' friend near my school in Pakshikha. One day he arrived with Istvan, clomping along the feeder track and, finding me well-disposed to the offering of tea to pilgrims, he tarried a while and we became friends. He stayed again on the way back from his travels, filled my hard-drive with some of the best films ever made and then kindly offered me his couch whenever it might come in handy. I took the offer very seriously and now here I am in Bangalore. 

The other guy is Arvind. His home seems to be a nexus of the international couch-surfing community and a social hub in the local area - a great place to hang out and find good conversation or sneak up to the roof terrace for a spot of reading or the figuring out of a song. In short, it's the perfect place to take a rest from the whizziness of India and find some inspiration. 

Next week I have a job interview for a position I'm really keen on. I need to get work starting in September so I can enjoy my own work and the travel, but this one is a really good one that excites me. Fingers crossed. Tomorrow I'll leave all my stuff here and travel light to Goa, where I could rent another bike and spend a few days exploring the coastline and the countryside. I'll be back here for the Holi festival - a nationwide technicolour snowball fight of bright powders. 

Having met two very amusing and seemingly talented music producers this afternoon, I may record a few tracks before I move on, just to bottle the songs that I wrote in Bhutan, and because its fun to go into studios, especially when it doesn't cost hundreds of pounds per day! This notion got me thinking about music a bit and I dug out some old recordings. 

Here's one... a live-ish version of By The River, and incidentally the one I remember my mother saying she liked the best. Apparently the song suited my singing. A convenient happenstance.