Reveries in Delhi

*WARNING: Nic has declared this entry 'too long', 'a bit preachy' and 'not boring as such...' She is most probably correct on all these points so read at your own risk (and when you're extremely bored and don't have anything else to do).

A few weeks ago, sweating in some jungly town not far from the steamy banks of the Mekong, we sat down to answer a profound question. What do you do when the world is your oyster and you have all the liberty and time you could require? To come up with an answer is more trying than you might imagine. In those steamy climes we put our heads together and bashed out a plan. Firstly, we needed to work, to have a purpose and a function. Secondly, we needed Europe. It is only when you spend so long away from the continent that you realise how much it too is part of our identity. I consider not just Britain but Europe to be my home.

So we decided that, after India, we would fly to Europe and volunteer on organic farms until finally arriving home for Christmas to rejoin society proper in January. We scanned the flights to Europe, trying to find the cheapest destination, just falling short of sticking a pin in a map. The best deal would take us to Rome. It seemed so apt, after all it was Roman gold that encouraged much of the Silk Road trade, imperial Roman soil over which we travelled for so many weeks and, of course, it is only natural that our road, like all the others, should lead to Rome. In a few weeks we'll be in Umbria picking olives in the Mediterranean sun.

It seems the right time to reflect on where we've been, what we've learnt, what we've seen. This has been a tough trip that's contained some seriously challenging times, but it has for both of us been the most educative and enlightening year of our lives. I might try and put into words exactly what it is that we've learnt. 

Lesson 1: We in the UK live in a liberal paradise
Iran taught us more than any other country we've visited. Seeing the people suffer the awful regime was deeply sobering and made us realise that even David Cameron is an easygoing, bleeding-heart liberal in comparison (this doesn't mean we shouldn't do everything in our power to dethrone the greasy little shit). As far as I'm concerned Britain is one of the most accepting and tolerant countries in the world. While still racist, homophobic and sexist it is light years ahead of almost everywhere else. Of this we should be truly proud (though still do everything in our power to destroy the racists, homophobes and sexists).

Lesson 2: Work is essential to happiness
You might imagine that one could be endlessly happy travelling the world, stopping to graze on fine food, chatting and playing cards into the tropical night. And you can for 6 or 7 months but there comes a time when you realise we all need a function, a role in society, a job. Otherwise you just float, you're empty and pointless. We've met people who've been travelling for two or three years and they are, without exception, bored, bitter and joyless. Society, community and function are essential.

Lesson 3: We know nothing of generosity
We've been shown such astonishing generosity on this trip it is hard to comprehend. Especially in Turkey, Iran and Central Asia there seemed nothing perfect strangers wouldn't do for us. Free meals, free hotels, free bus rides, free sightseeing tours, good company. It was a level of hospitality we have never experienced before and was quite humbling.

Lesson 4: We live in a world of miraculous things
By this I mean that we, in Western Europe enjoy daily luxury that is inconceivable to most of the planet. Among the most incredible are the following: Being able to draw safe, clean water from a tap, knowing that we are protected by legal rights and that we can say anything we like, living in a world where daily corruption is almost nonexistent (we do not need, for example, to pay teachers to guarantee a good result), knowing that our food is not only safe but always available, and, perhaps most miraculous of all, having free education and free healthcare (people cannot believe it when we tell them
this). There are many many more things that we daily take for granted, even gripe about.

Lesson 5: I no longer know what is East and West
Note: I've yet to find anyone else who finds this even remotely interesting, maybe you are the one!
We talk so often about life in 'the West' but what is it and where do draw the line? There are centuries old Muslim communities in mainland Europe and secular modernists in Central Asia, does modern Turkey now count as the West? Does Brazil or Australia? And how can we club Iran, China and India together as 'the East'? It is nonsensical, arbitrary and, as we continue to draw lines and wage wars over the idea of East and West, it is dangerous to continue with this gross oversimplification.
Note: I've yet to find anyone else who

Lesson 6: The world is indescribably beautiful (literally)
Though I've attempted to convey what we have seen in my blog, I will never be able to truly document the astonishing beauty that we have seen. The whirling of Konya's dervishes, the lumpen-throated beauty of Esfahan's mosques, the vast wastes of China's Desert of Death, the thousand-sights-a-metre onslaught of India's teeming streets simply cannot be put into words.

Lesson 7: We're quite possibly doomed
When you witness first-hand the industrial boom of Asia, the populations exploding like corn kernels, the hills stripped of trees, the smoke and and concrete dust spiralling into smoggy skies, you can't help but feel a little worried for the world. If the world as we know it is to end (and I'm increasingly sure it will in the not too distant future) it's as good a reason as any to live and appreciate the glories that we have before us and go out and see the beauty of an ever-shrinking world.

Lesson 8: Most people are good, everywhere
I'm not sure that takes much explaining. But it's true.

I could go on and on but cannot bore you with my mangled musings any further. In fact, I imagine most of you will have stopped reading by now and that I may be talking to an earless void.

We are now in Delhi and fly to Rome tomorrow. We're trying to soak up the last of our Asian journey, a journey that began as we crossed the Sea of Marmara way back in February. Outside, auto-rickshaws putter, cycle-rickshaws rattle and car horns howl to the scolding sky. This afternoon we will pick through the beggars and pushers to our favourite cafe, drink chai, watch the teeming world flow by and dream of distant yet familiar skies.

To Rome!

Into the Absurd

 But a week is left before our Asian journey is finally over and our new adventure begins (of more later). I did have a blog all ready to go ages ago but having accidentally deleted it I didn't have the heart to start again. So here, condensed into three exciting installments , are our most recent tales of daring adventure/layabout meanderings.

Part 1: How to become one with the universe
We begin in Rishkesh on the banks of the Ganges beneath kingfisher swoops and incense plumes.  It is a holy place where Hindus come to ring bells and wash away sins and foreigners come to meditate, yogarise and be healed by crystals. Travellers walk around with yoga mats strapped to their backs, pull yoga moves while waiting for their cheese toasties and think that combining trance music with Tibetan chanting is acceptable practice (it's not). A place full in equal parts of wisdom and complete and utter bullshit.

Being the highly uncynical pair that we are, we began our own 'spirtitual' journey in a darkened room chanting 'Om' for a solid half hour. Our meditation instructor was so softly-spoken and I was so busy straining to hear him that I perhaps missed my opportunity to transcend this earthly realm. Instead of feeling the energy of the universe I felt the desire to shake the guru by the collar and tell him to speak up.

Our second attempt at a mediation course was more successful. Taking time to simply witness yourself in the moment is undoubtedly something we could all do more of. As long as he didn't start wittering on about God and chakras and pixie dust it was pretty much wonderful. We also attended a breathing class. Apparently the idea is that you take air into your lungs through your mouth or nose (the holes located in your face) and then out again through the self same orifices. This, apparently stops you dying from asphyxiation. Amazing!

Simply watching the river flow, the gliding kites that scanned its waters or the beautiful langur monkeys that emerged from the green hills really was the finest meditation of all.
 
Part 2: What the hell is the place and what is that smell?
The answer to the first question is Deshnok near Bikaner in Rajasthan, where a remarkable (if preposterous) temple brings pilgrims flocking from across the desert sands. The answer to the second became apparent as we passed through the marble gates. The stench was a nostril-bothering mix of ammonia and neglected pet shop and stemmed from the temple's main residents. Every corner was writhing with wormy tales, skittering feet and lank fur. Rats. Thousands of manky, diseased looking rats. And what's this? People are feeding them the finest sweetmeats, laying down dishes of milk for them to greedily guzzle from, praying before shrines cascading with them. Because we had respectfully removed our shoes, our feet were soon peppered with the rat feed and rat shit scattered all over the floor. 'Why oh why!' you may cry (and for good reason). They are apparently the reincarnations of storytellers who were given ratty avatars to prevent them from being taken to the death god (or some such twaddle). It was the most absurd place we've ever been and was so bewildering that Nic finally decided that all religion everywhere was ridiculous and pointless. Oh European logic and reason! How we yearn for thee!
 
Part 3: Taking the in-laws to volatile borders
A week or so ago, Nic's Mum and Stepdad descended on Delhi, bringing gratefully received chocolate, Saturday papers and new pants. I can't tell you how good it feels to sit in your pants eating chocolate and reading the Guardian for the first time in 8 months (though this was perhaps not the primary sight Nic's Mum had come to see).
We've done many things but the most note-worthy thing was travelling to the India-Pakistan border to watch the lowering of the flags. This may sound thoroughly dull but it proved to be almost as funny/bizarre/disturbing as the rat temple. A thousand flag-waving Indians jostled for space on stands overlooking the gate through to Pakistan, chanting patriotic songs and running around manically as if they'd just won an Olympic gold.  On the Pakistan side a similar scene was taking place though, it has to be said, in a more dignified manner. Passionate cries of 'India Zindabad!' (long live India) were answered with 'Pakistan Zindabad!' from the other side. People were whipping themselves into a nationalist fervour that appeared part Royal Jubilee, part National Front rally (not that I've ever been to either may I add). And then the action started. Indian troops dressed in absurd fanned hats began matching with extravagant goose steps toward the border gate. The Pakistanis did the same until the guards were facing-off with preposterous high kicks, their feet cracking back down to the tarmac. The crowds went wild. The guards strutted around like arrogant cocks (either definition of the word 'cock' is apt here) attempting to prove the superiority of their own country. Though this is certainly better than the all-out war so often promised it was a vaguely disturbing and completely ridiculous display. To think that the two countries were once a (relatively) harmonious whole. It was like nothing we've seen on this trip. It the midst of all the noise and mayhem, we couldn't help but stare over the border a little longingly, nostalgic for the generosity and hospitality of the Islamic world. Thankfully, the in-laws left elated if utterly bemused, though Somerset-Wiltshire rivalries can be pretty fierce, home must have felt worlds away.
 

A typical Indian street complete with beautifully hand-painted shop signs

There's so so much more to write, there are temples of gold, mountains of green and cities of blue that paint the pages of my diary and jostle for space in jumbled memories. But I'm sure there's only so much you can take. We are finally done now with backpacking in Asia, feel we can take in no more and that the breeze is blowing us west. We're yearning to drink water from a tap (oh what luxury), sleep on sheets of discernible colour and use toilets that don't appear cleaner after I've shat in them.
 
Many of you may already know what our plans are for the coming months but if not you'll just have to wait for the next entry. We fly forth to the city which funded so much Silk Road trade and scattered ruins over many of the lands we have crossed. Perhaps then, a return to the source, from where our own civilisation once sprung...

On the way home from school on the back of a cycle rickshaw

The Golden Temple in Amritsar. I haven't mentioned this in the text but will allow picture to speak for itself.