Freelance Nomad

2009-11-17T13:03:00.003+05:30

All change

You may have noticed that I've barely updated the blog in ages. There are many reasons for this, but let's not worry too much about that. It's time to look towards... THE FUTURE.

The all-new, all-singing-and-dancing WORLDOFPABLO.COM is coming very soon. I'll even be writing far more frequently on the blog itself.

In the meantime, you can also follow me on Twitter... http://twitter.com/worldofpablo.

See you soon!

2008-06-26T12:44:00.013+05:30

WOGMA trailer

Here's a fun trailer for my friend Meeta's movie review website - www.withoutgivingthemovieaway.com (also known as 'WOGMA'). It's mainly packed full of reviews of new Hindi movie releases, although it does feature the occasional guest review from yours truly. Anyway, this clip will only be up here for a very short time because of bandwidth issues - so enjoy while it lasts! (See how I give an aura of mystery there...)

DISCLAIMER: this might not make much sense unless you've seen all-time Bollywoord classic 'Sholay'. Of course, even then it might not make much sense either...

This is a fun trailer for WOGMA.
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2008-02-19T18:30:00.003+05:30

Yikes! I haven't posted any entries in months. However, I'll get some stuff up here soon - there's plenty to catch up on.

In the meantime, here's a link to www.footnotes.co.in.

Rujuta's just started taking her own dance classes and I've knocked up the website. So if you're in Pune any time soon, make sure you sign up...

2007-07-31T17:53:00.000+05:30

Holi

Just an old-but-gold photo from this year's Holi - the 'Festival of Colours'.

'Playing Holi' generally involves getting as many people soaked with water and covered in powder paint as possible. These days you can get herbal colours if you look hard enough, but there's no guarantee that everyone else isn't using products designed for industrial use only. It's then quite an effort to get all the paint off afterwards, but it's all part of the fun.

Look closely at this picture. I'm copping a bucket from Hans as Ashlu looks on. Ho ho. But wait! What's that in his back pocket? The sly rascal has a backup supply!

I will get my revenge next year.

2007-06-08T19:22:00.000+05:30

Keep Laughing

In a previous post I recounted the story of having my trekking boots nicked by the Uttar Pradesh police once I got back to India.

Well, I was reminded of it again yesterday, when big sister Jenny and I went to see Othello at the Globe Theatre in London. One sonnet seemed particularly apt:

The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.

Always good to see the funny side.

In other developments, I now have my visa to return to India - BRINGITON. As you can guess I'm very pleased about this... I'll be flying back on the 18th, but until then will be flitting around London and Norwich... See you soon?

2007-06-08T19:18:00.000+05:30

Ice Cold In Kathmandu

2007-06-01T13:46:00.000+05:30

Stigma Chakra
This the 'Stigma Chakra'. It's something Hans developed to illustrate what we see on the DISHA project time and time again.

People are ignorant about HIV. What it is, how it's transmitted, how to get tested, what it means to be HIV positive, what treatment options are available and so on. No one should be complacent: this lack of knowledge is NOT limited to India.

But the ignorance makes people fearful, leading to huge stigma surrounding the virus. When people encounter someone who is HIV positive, they react with discrimination. This leads to silence: why would you come forward if you might be shunned by your friends and family? People who suspect they may be HIV positive are reluctant to come and get tested. If they do find out they're HIV positive, they may be reluctant to tell anyone about it. As a result, they may run the risk of spreading the infection to their partner/s.

People living with HIV (PLHIV) often fail to seek medical help when they need it. Time and again, they won't come forward until they're at HIV stage IV, clinically known as AIDS. By this stage - needlessly! - it's too late. Yet by living healthily, treating opportunistic infections promptly and by following a regime of antiretroviral therapy, people can live with HIV for years. It is a chronic treatable condition, like diabetes.

But whereas people can live with HIV, AIDS is fatal. This reinforces the stereotype that HIV equals death... which leads to fear, leading to stigma... leading to discrimination... and so it goes on.

The key is to break the cycle. The enemy of ignorance is knowledge. Make people aware, and you can remove the fear. And the stigma, and the discrimination, and the silence.

2007-05-30T18:24:00.000+05:30

Quick announcement: Pablo returns

Well would you believe it.

It's been getting on for three years, but - at last! - I'm coming back to the UK, if only for a quick visit. Basically I need to sort out some administrative red tape and visa stuff so will be flying over on 2nd June, returning to India on the 18th.

Happily enough, my visit also coincides with Mum's 60th birthday - result!

I'll be spreading myself between London and Norwich, so if you're around, get in touch and we'll meet up. I'm really looking forward to catching up with everyone.

Cheers, Paul

2007-05-15T15:06:00.000+05:30

NEPAL TREK DIARY - PART ONE

Sorry for the delay folks. Part Two will follow in a few days...

DAY ZERO: Kathmandu – Dunche

After finalising a few things in Kathmandu it was time for the bus to Dunche, trailhead for the Langtang trek. This entailed an 8 hour bus journey on roads of variable quality (average to horrendous) on a bus that was designed for passengers significantly smaller than clowns like us. There was little to choose between our seats. Option one: the aisle seat, perched next to a vertical steel pole promising mild concussion every time the bus negotiated a pothole (which was often). Option two: the window seat, offering a knee-shattering orgy of pain countered only marginally by jamming one’s legs up to head height and leaning desperately out of the window.

MATT: “I feel like I’m being shaken to pieces.”
PAUL: “I know mate. It’s pretty bad.”
MATT: “Yes, but this is at the molecular level.”

Mercifully, we stopped halfway for lunch at Trisuli. Neither of us were in the mood to eat, being rather hungover after the misguided-but-inevitable piss-up in Kathmandu the night before to herald Matt’s arrival in Nepal. Whoops. The second half of the journey was little better, though the scenery out of the window was spectacular as we made our way along the narrow roads curving around the hillside. Eventually, after what seemed like days, our ordeal was over. Namaste Dunche. Luckily for us, it didn’t take long to find a nice room with fabulous views over the hills from the outside terrace. We asked at our lodge about porter-guides and were introduced to Lobsang, a friendly and enthusiastic Dunche local who had plenty of knowledge about our intended route. A deal was struck. Looking back, we were incredibly lucky: Lobsang was an absolute legend throughout our entire trip.

We had considered the issue of whether or not to carry our own equipment. In the end, the advice of many fellow trekkers – “remember, you’re on holiday” – led us to go for the porter option. No regrets. Despite giving him a load that we would have struggled to shoulder, he actually carried far less than most regular porters, who get loaded with staggering amounts of kit for tour groups: 35-40kg is a typical load. Those guys are amazing.

Before dinner we took a walk around Dunche, accompanied by a 12-year-old local lad called Buddha, who was comfortably the most precocious kid either of us had ever met. In fluent English, he quizzed us on our knowledge of geography, geology, science and sport, whilst casually reciting the heights of Nepal’s major peaks and bemoaning the difficulty he and his mates had finding a level surface to play football.

PAUL: “Come off it Matt, in years to come you’ll look back and laugh.”
MATT: “In years to come I’ll take a taxi.”

DAY ONE: Dunche – Thulo Syabru

Matt’s essential equipment: Two MP3 players, solar charger, gaiters, four-season sleeping bag, sterilised needles, IV drip, portable water filtration unit
Paul’s essential equipment: Sleeping bag liner, two books, headtorch, thermals, woolly hat Lobsang’s essential equipment: Change of clothes, handkerchief

STARTING FROM DUNCHE

Our first day’s trek was the perfect way to begin. Not too much up, not too much down, and reasonably cool as we followed a good, pleasantly shaded trail along the forested ridge. Lobsang recommended a nice lodge in Thulo Syabru, and we had a hearty dinner of dal bhat, Nepal’s national dish.

MATT (determined): “I’m not going to drink any beer until we get back to Kathmandu.”
MATT: (30 minutes later, rationalising) “Well it is San Miguel.”
PAUL (firm): “Well I’m not going to have any. I don’t feel like it.”
PAUL: (30 minutes after that, resigned) “Oh go on then. Just a small glass.”

DAY TWO: Thulo Syabru – Chamdang

The first day had been a breeze, but this was tougher, mainly because after lunch it was uphill all the way.

PORTERS CROSSING A SUSPENSION BRIDGE NEAR SYABRU

MATT STOPS TO CHECK HIS WATCH

Still, for most of the day we walked along a good path up through the forest. On the way we passed a kind-faced old man taking his grandson for a walk down to Langmoche.

GRANDAD: “Where you going? Lama Hotel?”
PAUL: “Yes.”
GRANDAD: “Ah yes. Very good. [PAUSE. RAISES EYEBROW CONSPIRATORIALLY] Want hash?” [OPENS PALM TO REVEAL PRIZE NUGGET OF MARIJUANA]

We decided to refer to him as Ganja Grandad after that. But we didn’t take him up on his offer.

Just before we reached Chamdang – a fair walk up, we passed some guys coming down. Fair enough. But unlike regular hikers, these fellows were carrying bikes on their backs. It turns out they were world champion mountain bikers and, insanely, were actually cycling up and down these steep Himalayan paths. Tellingly, they had one porter deputed solely to lug around their enormous medical kit.

Despite his extensive kit list and collection of gadgets, Matt’s watch stops:

MATT: “Hmmm. I should have invested in that wristwatch with built in GPS and altimeter.”
PAUL (glancing at his watch then pointing at handily-placed big yellow sign): “It’s 12.15, we’re at Ghora Tabela and it’s 2900m. Job done.”

DAY THREE: Chamdang – Langtang Village

On the way up to Langtang Village (a proper settlement as opposed to a collection of lodges) the valley really opens up and there are great views up to the mountains of the Langtang Himal.

WATER-DRIVEN PRAYER WHEELS

We pass some interesting water-driven Buddhist prayer wheels, before Paul stops to take a photo of a yak. Matt threatens that the yak looks ready to charge. Do yaks charge? Paul looks a little nervous in the photo.

PAUL AND A YAK

At this altitude, it was starting to get a little cold at night.

PAUL: “I think my soap is frozen.”

DAY FOUR: Langtang – Kangjin

Matt greets Paul in the morning with a friendly “Happy Birthday” and offers him a cough sweet. For some reason we have a seemingly endless supply.

It was only a half day’s walk up to Kangjin, the furthest (and highest) village up the Langtang valley, so we decided that after checking into a lodge we’d have a crack at climbing the nearby peak of Kangjin Ri (4400m). On balance, Paul decides that yomping around the Nepalese Himalaya is a bloody fine way to spend a birthday.

We still had plenty of energy, but since we weren’t particularly acclimatised it was fairly tough going. Nevertheless, slowly but steadily we made our way to the summit.

PAUL, WAVING FROM THE TOP

MATT, SILHOUETTED ON THE RIDGE

At the top of Kangjin Peak, standing on an exposed ridge:

PAUL: “Shall we carry on to the peak behind?” [Kyimoshung, 4620m]
MATT: “Well, since we’re up here already… Why not?”
Suddenly, the freezing fog closes in and it begins to snow.
MATT & PAUL (simultaneously): “On the other hand…”

We descend. Rapidly.

That evening it kept on snowing, but it was great to look out from the relative comfort of the lodge dining room. Despite the somewhat unnerving presence of several lycra-clad Frenchmen, it was all quite convivial, especially when we whipped out a small bottle of Indian whisky we’d got poor old Lobsang to carry up from Syabru. It was Paul’s birthday after all.

DAY FIVE: Kangjin ‘rest day’

Paul gets up at 6am to watch the sunrise. Following the heavy snowfall, everything looks stunning in the morning light. While every building blanketed in a white layer, the sun casts wonderful shadows on the valley walls and surrounding peaks of the upper Langtang. This is a tremendous reward for our efforts so far.

DAWN AT KANGJIN VILLAGE

There are no villages past Kangjin with anywhere to stay, so we planned to spend a couple more days exploring the upper valley and acclimatising to the altitude. We considered climbing the nearby Tsergo Ri peak (4983m) but decided to wait another day to see if the snow cleared a little. Instead, we chose to hike further up the valley, as far as Langshisha. Because the valley follows a slight bend, every time you trek a little further you’re rewarded with fresh breathtaking views of the Himalyan range. Towards Langshisha we got a great look at Kangchempo (Tilman’s “fluted peak”) and across to Shishapangma in nearby Tibet.

We also met a group of Austrians planning to establish a base camp on the high altitude pastures there before climbing some mountain or other. Fair play to these alpine types.

Given that this was nominally a rest day in our schedule, we ended up walking for 7 hours – one of the longest days of our trek. The last stretch was the toughest, since we were walking into the wind and the fog had started to move up the valley bringing snow in its wake.

Back in the lodge, the tomato noodle soup tasted damn good.

DAY SIX: The Ascent of Tsergo Ri

This was the big one. Ever since the early planning stages of our trek, we’d been looking forward to climbing Tsergo Ri; at just a shade under 5000m, it promised to be a challenge.

We were up early to begin our ascent. With fewer clouds than the day before, conditions looked relatively favourable, despite yet more snowfall overnight. Of course, the mountain looked beautiful, all dusted in white and looming broodily on the north side of the valley. Fortuntately for us, Lobsang had been up before and led the way. We took a long but comparatively gentle route up, winding around the mountain before attempting a steep scramble to the top across virgin snowfields of variable depth.

PAUL AND LOBSANG CROSSING SNOWFIELDS APPROACHING THE SUMMIT

Hilariously described in our guidebooks as a 3-4 hour ascent, it took us 5 hours to reach the summit, partly because of the tricky final assault but mainly due to our general struggle with the altitude.

YETI SIGHTING?

PAUL (having been hanging around on the bitterly cold, exposed summit for ten minutes before Matt joins him): “Right let’s take those bloody photos bloody quick so I get the f*ck down off this f*cker.”

PAUL AT THE SUMMIT

MATT AT THE SUMMIT

Of course, getting to the top was only half the battle. The journey down was a struggle too (Matt’s verdict: “most horrendous descent ever”). We decided not to go back the way we since as it would take far too long. Instead, we had to follow a starkly exposed ridge, cross a sea of boulders and then pick our way along a treacherous, slippery snow-covered trail. It was hard enough before the fog closed in and – inevitably – it started to snow.

THE ROUTE BACK DOWN

On the way down we rechristened the mountain as “Bastard Peak”, or “Mount Bastard”. It was physical. It was tough. But yes, it was satisfying.

Picture the scene: covered in a layer of snow and ice, looking vaguely reminiscent of Shackleton, Oakes and Scott (had they worn fake North Face gear that is), Matt, Paul and Lobsang burst open the door of the lodge dining room in a blizzard of icy wind and billowing sleet. Everyone looks surprised. Almost immediately, three people rise from their seats near the stove and move aside to leave room by the fire. The intrepid mountaineers order an enormous vat of hot lemon and begin to recount stories of their adventure…

Paul’s attempt at cultivating a hard-as-nails, mountain-man image is somewhat undermined (perhaps fatally) by a bad case of windburn, giving him hilarious panda eyes and a permanently shocked expression.

MATT: “Don’t you just love it when you return alive from something bloody dangerous?”

PANDA-EYES PABLO

2007-05-04T15:43:00.000+05:30

2007-04-22T20:43:00.000+05:30

Welcome home

I'm back in India. BRINGITON. As I type this I'm in Delhi, spending a couple of days at Sahara before catching the train back south to Pune, a 26 hour journey.

Of course, Matt and I will post a full account of our adventures up here shortly, along with lots of photos of us looking all rugged as we tramp around the mountain passes of northern Nepal. And / or the bars of Kathmandu.

But first, I might as well recount the story of the journey from Nepal back to India. Matt had a flight back to London via Doha, whereas I was travelling overland to India via the border crossing at Bhairawa-Sonauli. This was a fairly gruelling undertaking, involving a 10 hour bus journey from Kathmandu to the border, another local bus to Gorakhpur, and a 14 hour train to Delhi.

The only other foreigners on the first bus were three Israelis - I was too bleary to catch their names - and once we arrived at Bhairawa around 4.30am we chartered a couple of cycle rickshaws up to the border checkpost, where we woke up the official and got our passports stamped. Then we ducked under the barrier (tricky with loaded backpacks) and walked up to the Indian immigration office 50 metres or so up the road. Perhaps 'office' is a bit grand: it was a tumbledown shed. Again we had to wake the poor official, who was dozing on a table under an elaborately arranged mosquito net. I had to lend him a pen to complete the paperwork, but within a couple of minutes I had the required stamp in my passport and was legitimately back in The India.

I've been to a few border towns, and I have to say that Sonauli is comfortably the worst of a bad bunch. Still, we didn't have to linger too long, finding ourselves a ramshackle bus to Gorakhpur (nearest railhead for Delhi) which took about three hours on the bumpy road. On a couple of occasions I was catapulted at least a foot in the air from my seat at the rear of the bus, although amazingly I was still able to doze through most of the journey.

On arrival at Gorakhpur, I bagged myself a 'retiring room' at the station. These rooms - ranging from simple dormitories to air conditioned hotel-style rooms - are designed for weary travellers to take a rest either before or after a long rail journey. This particular one was almost a suite, with a bedroom and attached bathroom, both with double height ceilings. If being generous, I suppose I could describe it as displaying 'faded grandeur', looking suspiciously like hadn't been redecorated since the mid 1950s. But for Rs90 - just over a quid - it was excellent value and just what I needed, especially since I faced a 10 hour wait for my train. In the end, my train was delayed by a further three hours, although this is the first time I can remember a departure delay of more than half an hour or so on an Indian long distance train. I think I've been fortunate, but it still beats the British Rail 'experience' hands down.

Once I located my carriage, I discovered a fat policeman dozing in my sleeper berth. He actually looked just like one of those unsympathetic police goons in the Bollywood movies. Anyway, since I had gone to the trouble of booking a confirmed reservation, I turfed him out. He harrumphed a bit and then moved to sit on someone else. Literally.

There was actually at least a dozen policemen in our carriage, none of whom who possessed confirmed tickets but had decided to throw their not inconsiderable weight around all the same. Fortunately, they all got off around midnight at Lucknow and relative peace was restored to the carriage.

When I woke in the morning, my shoes had gone missing. I'd tucked them under the lower berth, along with my chained up bags. I was puzzled. A friendly man by the window filled me in.

"My shoes have been taken also. We shall have to buy sandals in Delhi. Actually this is UP [Uttar Pradesh]. And UP is renowned for being the state of thieves and dacoits [bandits]. Perhaps you should feel lucky you still have the clothes on your back."

Marvellous. Maybe I should complain to someone?

"Actually, I think it was those policeman fellows who took them."

Brilliant. My trusty boots that had seen me across the snowy peaks of the Langtang Himalaya, had been appropriated by the boys in khaki.

Welcome back to India, Pablo!

2007-04-02T20:57:00.000+05:30

A quick look back

It’s approaching two and a half years since I left the UK. About time then, for a quick look back.

Where have I been in all this time? First of all to India, then to Thailand (via a stopover in Bangladesh, though I’m not counting that), then Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand again before returning to India. An extended stay this time, picking up a couple of new qualifications along the way, and then off to Sri Lanka, and back to India again. Right now, I’m in Nepal.

Let’s just say I’m taking the roundabout route getting to New Zealand.

Some forms of transport I’ve used on my travels (in a vaguely chronological order):

Aeroplane
Taxi
Train
Van
Bus
Cycle rickshaw
Bicycle
Auto rickshaw
Motorbike
Jeepney
Camel
Motor boat
Scooter
Car
Ambulance
Coracle
Pedalo
Elephant
Thai songthaew
Cambodian improvised railcart
Ferry
Canoe
Horse
Sail boat
DISHA Mobile Awareness Vehicle (D-MAV)

What I have I learned in all this time?

1) Return tickets are for wimps
2) One should be very careful when sitting on a camel
3) Arrack (Sri Lankan country liquor) and ginger beer is a drink fit for kings
4) Feni (Goan country liquor) and Mazaa (mango soft drink) is a drink fit for fools
5) Late at night, in any city in the world, you can watch a movie on satellite TV starring Steven Segal. It’s probably ‘Under Seige’, and it’s probably on channel 57...
6) There are stories everywhere you look

More homespun philosophy another day!

Recently, I was back in Delhi. It was interesting, because that’s where I first arrived into India in October 2004, and I hadn’t been back since. After spending a reasonable amount of time in various parts of the country, it was interesting to see things through different eyes. Unfortunately my visit was somewhat curtailed, but I’m looking forward to spending more time there in the future.

Just one more thought... I’ve spent so much time in Pune that I now leave loved ones behind in India as well as Europe. But I haven’t forgotten about anyone, and look forward to the day we meet again...

Paul xx

2007-04-02T18:18:00.000+05:30

Off Trekking

Well... I'm going to be away for the next 16-18 days off on some comedy Himalayan trek with Matt. I picked him up at the airport this morning and we're off on a bus to the trailhead early tomorrow.

I'll post lots of pictures once we get back... see you soon and wish us luck!

2007-03-29T13:06:00.000+05:30

D-MAV

Back in the day, Hans and I were sat in a pub somewhere - Goa I think - and we were talking about the need for a car so we could go off on regular jollies.

"What we need is some kind of awareness vehicle for DISHA. Then we could borrow it at weekends."
"Yeah, just a second-hand Maruti 800. Paint it up and you're good to go."
"Or a van. That'd be practical."
"Yeah, we could do it up like the 'A Team' van and everything. You know, black with red trim."
"Brilliant!"

We returned to our beers.

Fast forward six or seven months, and we're organising the Wake Up Pune campaign. By sheer coincidence, the campaign colours are black and red. One of the old Deep Griha vehicles is sitting idle, having been replaced recently. Why don't we revive the old A Team plan?
And lo, the DISHA Mobile Awareness Vehicle (D-MAV) was born. We drafted a proposal and sketched out the design. I knocked up the necessary artwork in Photoshop. Funding was secured (kind thanks to the Acorn Fund) and the battered old vehicle went for a complete refit: bodywork, lighting, custom PA system, the lot.

I have to admit I was pretty excited to see the end product.

The D-MAV will be used primarily for rural outreach. Members of the DISHA team will head to the villages and run street plays and awareness sessions about HIV and AIDS. The D-MAV is also a visible advertisment for the Wake Up Pune campaign, and will be present at all high profile DISHA events.

Sadly, Hans and I won't be able to use it for our holidays. But I'm glad that all our hard work slaving over a beer has finally been vindicated...

2007-03-29T12:29:00.000+05:30

Just to let you know, since I'm in Nepal I can't be reached on my Indian phone number... So if you want to get in touch, best to email or post comments on the blog. I'll let you know once normal service is resumed... Cheers!

2007-03-26T21:06:00.000+05:30

Nagarkot

After a few days in Kathmandu I decided it was time to get out and explore the valley a little. I decided upon an overnight stay in Nagarkot, a hill-station 35km east of Kathmandu, famous for its Himalayan views, especially at sunset and sunrise.

Dodging a Maoist rally just outside Thamel I took a taxi to the old bus stand, where I hopped on a crowded bus to Bhaktapur – passing three more rallies on the way – for the connecting bus to Nagarkot. The second bus was even more crowded than the first, so I decided to clamber up and sit on the roof, a first for me. Despite the discomfort of perching on the luggage rack it was an exhilarating experience, especially with the great views over the valley as we made our way uphill.

There was a little drama when we ground to a halt and everyone suddenly started jumping out of the doors or leaping off the roof. I didn’t really know what it was all about until I climbed down and noticed the increasing pool of petrol leaking from underneath the bus. Some guy was studiously inspecting the leak – fine – although worryingly he had a lit cigarette between his lips. Along with about a third of the other passengers I decided to walk the last few kilometres. The bus did overtake us later on, just before breaking down again.

Now I probably only saved about Rs150 (just over $2) travelling by public transport rather than some kind of tourist bus but frankly, where’s the fun in that?

Once I finally arrived in Nagarkot I hiked further up the ridge and found myself a charming little ‘bamboo hut’ (actually half brick, half wood) overlooking the valley. It cost Rs300, after a little haggling. Perfect.

The next morning I was up at 4.30am for the walk to an observation tower in time for sunrise. With no moon and little light pollution to speak of, the night sky was filled with stars. Equipped with a head torch, I walked the several kilometres uphill out of town to the observation tower, originally part of the Survey Department’s Trigonometrical Station.

Near the top I was passed by a couple of taxis, filled with tourists who had (perhaps sensibly) decided that a few hundred rupees was fair trade for an extra 45 minutes in bed. Still, it was worth the walk. As the sun rose, the mountain ranges came into view, along with the rolling blue foothills rising from the valley. A spectacular panorama gradually appeared: to the northwest, the Ganesh Himal; to the north, the peaks of the Langtang Himal. Apparently, on a clear day you can see five of the world’s eleven highest peaks including the Annapurna Range to the west and even distant Everest in the east, but it was a little cloudy for that. I wasn’t complaining however, and neither were any of the other 20 or so tourists scattered about.

The walk back was a breeze, although I felt sorry for the army soldiers barracked here who have to run up and down to Bhaktapur every day. Several platoons passed me by on their early morning jogs as I strolled gently down.

After loading up with a hearty breakfast, I checked out and hit the trail. My plan was to hike the 3-4 hours to Changu Narayan (a historic temple and world heritage site) before continuing down to Bhaktapur for the bus back to Kathmandu. It sounded reasonable enough in my guidebook (a vintage first edition Rough Guide) but with a fully loaded backpack, it was hard work. Still, the decent along the ridge was wonderful, passing through interesting little villages and through lovely countryside along the way. The temple itself was interesting, with intricate wood carvings decorating the exterior and several priceless statues scattered about the grounds, though some restoration work was taking place on a nearby building (looked more like a demolition to me) so there was a lot of dust flying about in the strong wind.

It’s at least 10km from Nagarkot to Changu Narayan, and a further 5km down to Bhaktapur. Combined with the trip to the observation tower it was a fair amount of walking in one day, but undoubtedly good practice for the trekking that’s to follow once Matt arrives…

In front of the Langtang Himal, viewed from Nagarkot.
I'm laughing thanks to the young Japanese tourists who took the picture, who made me say 'SUSHI!' as the shutter clicked. They all joined in.

Buddhist prayer flags silhouetted by the sunrise, Nagarkot.

Countryside on the walk from Nagarkot to Changu Narayan
The entire walk had views like this. The countryside here reminds me of the hills near Sapa in north Vietnam, although it was rainy season when I was there.

2007-03-23T19:37:00.000+05:30

Kathmandu

When backpacking around, it’s always interesting arriving in a ‘traveller hub’. I’ve been to a few. Khao San Road in Bangkok. Sudder Street in Kolkata. Colaba in Mumbai, Pushkar in Rajasthan, Anjuna in Goa. Various quarters and districts in Phnom Penh, Chiang Mai, Saigon, Hanoi…

And now one more to add to the list: Thamel, in Kathmandu.

I got a taxi from the airport, 5km out of town. I guess Kathmandu is one of those rare capital cities where you could conceivably walk downtown from the airport, but I wasn’t really up for that. So, after dodging the shady taxi touts around the arrivals hall and taking a stroll down the road, I flagged down a metered cab.

Thamel features the usual tourist mishmash of moneychangers, travel agents, touts, would-be-guides, curio vendors, postcard sellers, hustlers, street children and rickshawalas, scattered around all the restaurants, cafes, bars, bookshops, cybercafes and new age shops. In Thamel of course, there’s also a healthy number of trekking equipment stores. And you’re never too far from some shady character whispering offers of hash, opium or whatever.

In one bookshop south of Durbar Square, on a road nicknamed Freak Street ever since its 1960s hippy heyday, I spotted a book called ‘Auto Urine Therapy’ by ‘An Experienced Physician’. The front cover featured a line drawing of what could only be somebody drinking their own piss out of a wineglass. As the blurb stated:

An ideal way to express your good wishes
An humble appeal to society
Present this book to your loved ones

I’ll be sure to remember that around Christmas time.

Just a few minutes walk from Thamel is Kathmandu’s historic old town area. It’s a fascinating mix of small lanes, medieval buildings, temples and bazaars. But it certainly doesn’t have a sterile chocolate-box feel; it’s alive, densely populated and busy.

I sometimes think the true way to appreciate any city is not to concentrate on ground level, but to look up. Above the shops that tend to dominate the street you can see all kinds of interesting features. Here in Kathmandu, most of the old dwellings are tall, narrow buildings with lots of small windows, all decorated with wonderful wood carvings. Even the new (concrete) buildings seem influenced by the old designs.

The Durbar Square area is home to the old royal palace, and a whole host of quirky temples, statues and historic buildings. It’s great just to wander around for a while, spotting an erotic carving here, a giant pair of drums there… On my first night I took an evening walk back through the old town and spotted a crowd watching young men take turns to twirl a 10m pole on the narrow lane just outside a temple, pausing very occasionally to let the traffic past, or disentangle the pole from the electricity cables running overhead.

Street in old Kathmandu.
On the right you can see a typical traditional Newar building, with wooden shutters for the ground floor premises and carved wooden balconies on the upper floors. Even modern brick building next door is designed along the 'tall and narrow' principle.

Carved wooden masks for sale at the Swayambunath Stupa in Kathmandu.
Akthough the stupa is a Buddhist monument, Nepal is 90% Hindu and the masks demonstrate this influence. Scattered around the large stupa which located 300 steep steps up a big hill, there's an interesting mix of small temples and monasteries, postcard sellers, curio shops, cafes and even a bureau de change. For a religious site representing the thirteen steps to enlightenment, you're certainly never too far from earthly distractions. Next time I visit I'll check if there's a cybercafe up there.

2007-03-19T20:31:00.000+05:30

The best laid plans…

I know it’s been a long time. For many of you, I’m sure it appears I’ve dropped completely off the radar. Usually, I begin my postings with some kind of apology, citing time constraints as the reason why I haven’t updated the site in so long. Or replied to the ever-growing pile of emails in my inbox, for that matter. And if it ain’t broke, why fix it, right?

So yes, I have been busy. First of all, the usual excitement at Deep Griha. There’s never a dull moment at that place, and I’ve been getting involved in various projects, helping out where I can. At times it’s been hard work, but I’m learning constantly and soaking it all up.

Back in December, I submitted a proposal for Deep Griha to Commonwealth Connects (a pan-Commonwealth development initiative focused on information communication technology). The proposal was entitled ‘ICT skills training for urban slum communities in Pune, India’ and for a couple of months I kind of forgot about it. Then, out of nowhere, I received an email inviting me to present the proposal at the Commonwealth Connects 2007 conference, to be held in New Delhi on 23-24 March. It’s always nice to receive some positive feedback and since I don’t have any formal training in development issues it’s good to know that the proposals I write are generally along the right lines.

The only hitch was that the conference was scheduled for a week after my visa expired. But things can sometimes be arranged…

My plan was simple: head up to Delhi a few days early, procure a 14-day visa extension from the Ministry of Home Affairs, attend the conference, then overland it to Nepal. As luck would have it, my old buddy Matt was making plans to trek in Nepal around the same time. Bingo – we’ll team up. After a few weeks clowning around the Himalaya, return to India on a fresh visa. Job done.
Of course, it didn’t work out that way. The MHA didn’t like the sound of me attending a conference on a tourist visa, not least one organised by a commercial sounding name like the Commonwealth Business Council. The fact that the event was co-sponsored by the Government of India, the keynote speaker was President Kalam and that a load of ministers and officials would be in attendance didn’t make any difference. The problem is that tourist visas are (ostensibly) non-extendable, and can’t be converted to any other kind of visa – such as a conference visa for example.

My old Pune University batchmate Jasmeet had met me outside the visa office. He’s a Delhi local (Dilliwala?), and as he rightly pointed out, “You don’t know how the system works.” We quickly embarked on a whistlestop tour of various government departments in an attempt to get the necessarily clearance. Jasmeet showed exactly the right kind of dogged persistence combined with infinite patience which seems to be the way to go about these things. I just played the role of ‘bemused foreigner’, a part I was born to play. At one stage, we managed to get as far as some junior undersecretary in the right department, but by then it was getting late. “It’s 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon, and your visa expires on Sunday. It would be very difficult to get much done in time,” he told us.

So that was that. I was left in somewhat of a dilemma, because with my visa expiring in just two days I had to leave the country sharpish. I did have a train booked from Delhi up to near the Nepalese border, but of course that was scheduled for after the conference. There’s a long waiting list for tickets so getting something the next day would have been impossible. We enquired at a respectable-looking travel agency in Connaught Place about flights to Kathmandu, leaving in the next couple of days.

Everything was booked out, on all airlines. Not good.

What about Colombo, Sri Lanka? (Always a good backup.) Nope. Nothing available at short notice. Okay… getting desperate here… what about Bangkok? Possible. But only a one-way ticket, because my visa was about to expire. What’s that got to do with the agent? That’s my problem, I protested; I’d get a new Indian visa once I arrived. Nothing doing. I pointed out that last time I booked a ticket to Bangkok the agent refused to sell me a single ticket, due to non-existent (or at least, non-enforced) Thai regulations. That’s why I ended up thinking about returning to India to study (lucky for me, as it turned out). This time, I wanted a return ticket, and they’d only sell me a one-way passage out of the country. Shi baba.

“What we need,” I said to Jasmeet, “Is a proper Indian travel agent. You know, some guy with a telephone.”

It didn’t take long. We passed a bureau de change and Jasmeet asked the man inside about travel agencies, and lo and behold he led us to exactly the kind of place we were after: guy with phone. Within half an hour, I had a flight booked to Kathmandu, leaving the next day.

So here I am. The plan is to kick around for a couple of weeks until Matt arrives, then hit the trail. I’m here earlier than scheduled, but that’s not the end of the world. First impressions are good and I’m looking forward to exploring the Kathmandu valley over the next few days. Watch this space…

2007-02-20T17:31:00.000+05:30

Horsing Around

This is me on a horse. A rare event. I must admit I look most unconvinced by the entire episode.

It was taken last month up at the hill station of Matheran in Maharashtra. Matheran proper is banned to all vehicular traffic so the closest you can get is a car park a few kilometres from the top. From there, you either walk or take a horse... or get pushed up in a hand-pulled rickshaw, if that's your thing.

The horse was called 'Yes Boss'. The guy in charge of said animal was a bit of a joker, and decided to teach me a lesson for haggling over the price by encouraging my steed to gallop along at a fair old pace, whilst Mum, Dad and Jenny gently trotted along behind.

Last time I was in Matheran, Matt and I arrived fairly late after travelling from Mumbai via a couple of local trains and a share taxi. We finally rocked up around 10pm. "Any chance of a horse?" we asked the Ranger. "You must be joking," he replied, or at least Marathi words to that effect. So we trudged up the hill, carrying our heavy bags, in near pitch darkness with only the light of my cellphone to help us on our way. And then, as is inevitably the way with these things, it began to rain: a morale-sapping heavy drizzle that got us soaked through by the time we reached the summit. Damn.

After a night in Matheran and a thoroughly satisfying five-hour walk around the hills, we made the return journey the next day on horseback. At this point I'd like to say that we were like two of the Magnificent Seven - James Coburn and Steve McQueen perhaps - as we confidently rode downhill. In reality of course, we were giggling like schoolgirls. Still, it was a lot less painful than riding a bloody camel.

Nevertheless, from arriving like thieves in the night, we left like conquering heroes. Kind of.

Photo from Lord's Point, Matheran, August 2006. It’s the rainy season.

The same point in January 2007. Spot the difference.

2007-02-15T16:02:00.000+05:30

Sunsets in India

One of the nice things about visiting the state of Maharastra in India in January is that when planning outings and activities you don’t have to think “we’ll see what the weather is like”. Likewise, if you want to see a beautiful sunset you’ve only got to choose the location. The sun will be there, for sure. We (Estrid and Andrew, Paul’s parents) have just returned from three glorious weeks in India. It was a very special family reunion as Jenny was able to join us from Germany for the first two weeks.

Paul was in great form and able to spend a lot of time travelling and exploring with us. In Pune we visited both new and familiar places and introduced Jenny to the wonders of the city, especially of course Deep Griha Society. The sunset from the hill above the Ranade Institute was beautiful and the noise from below barely audible.

The Hilltop station of Matheran can only be reached by train, taxi and – to get to the top – on horseback. It is well worth the effort and we spent a couple of days walking in the fresh air and enjoying the spectacular views. The sunset was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen and only slightly marred by a monkey doing its best to nick my bag. I won the battle!

We had all wanted to visit the Konkan coast and were thrilled to find beautiful stretches of empty beaches, banana and coconut plantations (our huts were built right in the middle of one) and to observe a rural way of life. One day we found ourselves on a boat sailing to and from the spectacular Janjira Fort, together with around 20 children singing to us – magic. As expected later that day the sun set in spectacular fashion and painted the sky, the sea and the sand a dark orange.

Our final two days were spent being tourists in Mumbai. Paul knew his way around and guided us with great style and confidence (cocktails in the stylish open-air roof bar of the Intercontinental Hotel? Hmmm – make that three beers, please...). Not only did we get the by now almost taken for granted spectacular sunset but were also treated to an air display watched by thousands of people. They had probably waited for ages. We knew nothing about this but the show began just as we set foot on the beach. When in India, always expect the unexpected.

The most enduring memories, however, are of the people we met, both old friends from our last visit and new ones, easily made in the relaxed atmosphere of the Grand Hotel, Roopali’s restaurant, or even in welcoming Indian homes. Thank you Anjali, Pratik and Rujuta, Meeta and Navin, Neela and Bhaskar, and not least Mira who made us the loveliest cup of chai and told us about her life in the Tadiwala Road community. The hospitality and friendly welcome we had everywhere was so generous and wonderful. But the biggest thank you goes to Paul for sharing your life in India with us for three wonderful weeks. We look forward to our next family get-together!

Estrid and Andrew

2007-02-05T19:37:00.000+05:30

Missed calls

I think these are an Indian phenomenon... At least, I've never encountered them anywhere else. So what is a missed call? Basically, it's a quick and handy way of saving a few rupees on phone calls or text messages. You dial a number, let it ring once, and hang up. Simple.

Deceptively simple perhaps. Depending on the circumstances, missed calls may have many different meanings. These include:

- "I'm thinking of you. How's it going?"
- "Yes. I agree" or "Ha. Very funny" [probably with the contents of a recently received SMS]
- "Yep. Will see you there"
- "Where are you? I've been waiting here for bloody ages"
- "Did you get my last message?"
- "I'm waiting right outside. Come meet me"
- "Call me back - I'm out of phone credit" [Hans uses this method on principle]
- "The lecturer has arrived. Leave the canteen and come to class"

Usually, the context will be fairly clear, having been agreed beforehand, for example, "Give me a missed call when you're about to reach and I'll meet you there," or something of that nature.

After a couple of years here I'm beginning to get the hang of them. So if you ever get a one-ringer from my cell number, you'll have to work out exactly what it means.

2007-02-05T19:25:00.000+05:30

School pledge

This pledge features in the front of Indian school textbooks and is recited by pupils at the beginning of every day. This photo was taken at the school we used for the Eye Camp in Tambewadi village.

2007-02-05T18:44:00.000+05:30

Eye Camps 2007

The team from Vision Aid Overseas were in town last month to run a series of Eye Camps. For the third year in a row - who could have imagined that? - I tagged along for a couple of the rural camps.

The dedication of the team really is remarkable. After flying over from the UK (they pay for their own flights, using their annual leave to come) they undertake a whistlestop schedule of 10 camps in two weeks, providing eye tests for more than 2000 people. Spectacles are dispensed on the spot and referrals made for operations where necessary - usually for cataracts.

VAO provides the optometrists and covers expenses whereas Deep Griha Society handles all the logistics, providing volunteers, translators, transportation and so on. Half of the camps are in urban centres, with the others in rural areas. Kadambari - the all round superwoman responsible for liaising with the villages - does a remarkable job of getting things organised. In the months leading up to the visit, she will go from village to village and persuade each Panchayat (village council) and Sarpanch (village head) to host the camps.

On the day, the VAO team are picked up by minibus and taken to the village. The DGS staff arrive in another vehicle with all the spectacles and equipment. Remarkably quickly, things are set up and the eye tests begin. People are registered, screened, tested and then given prescriptions as necessary. Perhaps as many as 250 people will be seen in one day.

The VAO team are usually welcomed at the start of the day by the Sarpanch. They'll typically be garlanded or given a blessing. When I tag along, I invariably get mistaken for one of the optometrists - in 2005 I was introduced once as 'Dr Paul'; last year it was 'Paul Madam'. Actually, I find it a little bit embarrassing because really I'm just a bystander rather than a member of the team. In this photo, despite my initial protests, I've just had a turban wrapped around around my head - a first for me.

This is Ramdas. As you can see, Ramdas has no arms. I escorted him through registration, and screening. Once we got to the (long) queue for the actual eye test, I was unsure whether to fast-track him through or not. But as a couple of people in the queue were happy to point out, "No, no, he's normal, he can wait." Quite right, I thought. I felt bad for being so patronising. Ten minutes later, Ramdas sneaks up and asks if he can jump the queue. Hey ho. In the end he walked off with two pairs of spectacles - for both close-up and distance vision. Another satisfied customer.

Schoolchildren practicing for the Republic Day celebrations to be held the next day, on 26 January.

Inquisitive locals Sachin and Subash look in at the window.

2007-02-05T14:43:00.000+05:30

Results declared

At last the elections are over. In our ward, Shakuntala finished behind the Congress candidate, who was re-elected.

India is proud to be the world's largest democracy. And these local elections are taken seriously, especially in economically deprived areas like Tadiwala Road. While allegations of malpractice surface from time to time, the elections are generally expected to be 'free and fair'. And despite dodgy voter inducements such as illegal cash payments, or even bizarre supposedly legal 'incentive' schemes, people generally accept the results once they have been announced.

The Congress party workers were certainly celebrating. They set up some huge loudspeakers and partied away with dancing, fireworks, paint-throwing and all that tamasha. I spotted a vehicle pulling up just near to the DGS office. Out jumped a couple of Congress workers, who soon unloaded bottles of Kingfisher Strong beer ('strong is wrong' - I know from painful experience) and several pegs of whisky. Time for a party. They must have spent a fair few rupees on hiring those speakers; the monotonous pounding music was driving us nuts. And then suddenly, it stopped.

Peace at last! Excellent.

It turns out that a fight had broken out. A few hooligans were chasing each other up the road wielding big sticks. Hence no more music. Things are back to normal now, and Tadiwala Road has reverted to its regular status of what I'd call 'chaotic harmony'... There's rarely a dull moment around here.

2007-01-29T17:40:00.000+05:30

Election Time

The civic elections are taking place in Pune right now. It's a big deal. Political rallies are taking place all over the city and Tadiwala Road is no exception. You can't go two minutes without seeing (or hearing) an autorickshaw kitted out with loudspeakers, blaring out pre-recorded campaign slogans or giving a mobile platform for one party or other.

Shakuntala - one of the DISHA team - is standing as a candidate. I hope she wins. Her compaign HQ is set up just outside my building. Perhaps if she's successful we can arrange an Evita-style reception from my balcony...

Many of the rallies pass along the path outside my flat. Of course, as soon as they see Shaku's HQ they up the volume. This gets a little trying after a while.

All this excitement will continue until 1st February, when the voters go to the polls. Afterwards there'll be a few celebrations, and then perhaps things will get back to normal. And believe me, 'normal' is still pretty interesting around here.

I was in Mumbai over the weekend and they've taken the dramatic step of banning liquor sales during the election period to try and cut campaign-related trouble. A newspaper report I read on Saturday quoted an anonymous political leader saying they'd prepared for this by stocking up on booze in advance in order to keep party workers going during the gruelling campaign. I wonder if they'll win.

2007-01-29T17:25:00.000+05:30

Sholay

Here's a still from the Hindi blockbuster Sholay.

Originally released in 1975, the film beacame so popular that some cinemas ran it for years. It remains the most successful Hindi movie of all time. I've got the DVD - it's great.

The plot is relatively straightforward. Small-time criminals Veeru and Jai (played by Dharmendra and living legend Mr Amitabh Bachchan, respectively) are employed by ex-policeman Thakur Baldev Singh (Sanjeev Kumar) to apprehend notorious bandit Gabbar Singh (the excellent Amjad Khan) whose gang has been terrorising the village of Ramgad. There are a couple of twists along the way to keep things lively, but essentially it's a struggle between good and evil.

The heroes really are heroic. The bad guy really is nasty - in one memorable scene, wiping out the Thakur's entire family as an act of revenge. In another, he forces Basanti (Hema Malini) to dance on broken glass to save Veeru's life.

And - importantly for a Bollywood film - the songs are great. Combine all this with action, humour, pathos and romance and you've got a winning formula. Certainly, if you spent your hard-earned rupees on seeing this at the cinema you'd definitely walk out having got your money's worth.

The film owes debt to Sergio Leone's spaghetti westerns - leading to it being described as a 'curry western'. Very clever. The landscape (near Bangalore) even looks like the wild west. Of course, a remake is in the pipeline. Sounds like a shameless cash-in to me. But if I'm in the country at the time, I'll go see it all the same. Bah.

2006-12-19T15:48:00.000+05:30

Roopali

Roopali Hotel. A 'hotel' in the Indian sense meaning an inexpensive food joint rather than a place to stay, it's a Pune institution, along with sister restaurant Vaishali, just up the street.

It's on Fergusson College Road, opposite the University of Pune's Ranade Institute, noted seat of learning and where I had the pleasure of studying for a year. For my circle of journalist friends, Roopali is our 'adda'. I guess the closest English translation would be 'hangout.' Event though our student days are sadly behind us, we still meet there regularly. In true student fashion, we can easily spend a couple of hours chatting about everything and nothing over a couple of cups of chai or coffee, shared 'two by two', much to the annoyance of the management.

The waiters - who we either know by name or nickname depending on how friendly they are - are fine gentlemen, looking pretty sharp in their white uniforms. They can easily discern between the proper customers – who eat proper meals then leave – and jokers like us, doing ‘timepass’ (my favourite Indian English expression). But then we are regulars, with our preferred tables and favourite orders.

Everyone thinks I always order the 'Special Tomato Uttapa'. This is not true, but it probably is probably my favourite item on the menu. Rather than dip mouthfuls of uttapa into the side bowls of coconut chutney (very tasty) or sambar (uh... a kind of mildly spiced watery tomatoey dip... more appetising then my description makes it sound), I tend to slather everything over my plate and mix it all up. This horrifies everyone, although usually I can get away with playing the eccentric foreigner card. I believe that in the same way that the English invented cricket and football (and rugby, and let's claim baseball, basketball, kabbadi and cross-country skiing whilst we're about it) yet other nations teach us rather brutal lessons in how to play them, so India invented the dosa and the uttapa and I alone know how to appreciate them properly.

I almost always have a fresh lime soda at Roopali. A healthy and inexpensive option. Now while James Bond may like his vodka martinis shaken not stirred, I like my lime sodas “No sugar, no salt. Plain.” The waiters all know this but they still ask me every time. It's their little joke.

Now despite my fondness for Indian cuisine, Bollywood movies, Hindi music and Kingfisher lager, I'm still very much the Englishman abroad. Perhaps not quite the white-suited Man From Del Monte, but I have been known to stroll around in the mid-day sun ready with a newspaper tucked under my arm, casually waving cheery hellos to all and sundry. I'm not tanning much either. The other day I was described - by a fellow Brit! - as looking like a 'frozen milk bottle', a harsh if not inaccurate description. And I still speak better Geordie than Hindi, alas.

Speaking of which, in Newcastle's Bigg Market, there’s a great Indian restaurant called Rupali. The manager is a real character, going by the magnificent name of Lord of Harpole; I suspect he purchased the title many years ago from one of those outfits that advertise in the back of Private Eye. His restaurant is home of the infamous ‘Curry Hell Challenge’. Basically, if you can finish what is alleged to be the world's hottest curry, you get your meal for free. It's a wonder Lord Harpole hasn't been prosecuted under anti-terrorism laws. I remember Matt giving it a crack several years ago and ending up with chemical poisoning. Beware.

2006-12-19T15:32:00.000+05:30

Christmas Caption Competition

OK - this picture is from last year. But since we have the technology, let's use it. Send in your best photo captions and I'll publish them here. Winner gets a mystery prize... And yes, that is a red saree I'm wearing (albeit unconventionally). Manda seems unimpressed.

Merry Christmas everyone.

2006-12-19T15:24:00.000+05:30

Some Indian English

Indian English is here to stay. Rather than just a load of tired linguistic clichés featured in old Two Ronnies sketches and episodes of Mind Your Language, it’s a pukka variant of English, conforming to developed grammatical rules, and is – I would argue – as valid as any other form of the language.

And it’s interesting to see how it works. I suppose Indian English has branched off from 1940s colonial British English, with constant modern inputs from all over the English-speaking world, particularly the USA.

Back in August I found myself giving a talk on British English to the Pune chapter of the Society of Technical Communicators (India). I talked a little bit about regional accents and dialects, but also used examples of American English and Indian English for comparison.

Indian English (not to be confused with Hinglish, which is something else) has many interesting characteristics. Rather than get into a detailed examination of the linguistic complexities – for which I am wildly unqualified – I’ll list a few words and expressions:

Airdash – to fly somewhere urgently, usually in the midst of a crisis
Batchmate – classmate
Eve-teasing – innocent sounding euphemism for sexual harassment
Funda – concept, belief. “He’s got some weird fundas. Like, he wears only purple on Wednesdays.”
Gift – used as a verb; “She gifted me that book for my birthday.”
Godown – warehouse, storage unit or lockup
Item number – song and dance routine in Indian film totally irrelevant to the plot but featuring scantily clad hottie writhing around a lot
Mild lathi charge – when the police decide to go whack people with their big cane sticks
Mishap – horrific accident. “In an unfortunate mishap 49 persons were killed when the bus in which they were travelling plunged headlong off the edge of a 300-foot cliff.”
Pain – used as a verb; “My leg is paining.”
Pass out – to graduate (universal; not used only in the military sense)
Votebank – politicians attempt to cultivate votebanks who they hope will vote for them en masse. These votebanks are often based on caste or religion; really, this is a cynical and divisive approach that fuels social and communal tension. If you ask me.
Timepass – obviously, passing time, but also an activity in itself. Sometimes even a description: “Dhoom 2? It’s a timepass movie.”
VIP – basically any mate of a politician who can blag favours and get free tickets for cricket matches
VVIP – a politician in office. They get to travel round in escorted convoys (if they’re not busy airdashing) and all traffic is halted to allow them through on their way to some jolly or other. They lose touch with reality and tend to believe that they really are the anointed masters of the people, rather than their elected servants. So there.

“The minister airdashed to the godown, scene of the alleged eve-teasing. Police resorted to a mild lathi charge to disperse a crowd of college batchmates, who had gathered for timepass.”

You get the idea.

2006-12-01T11:55:00.000+05:30

World AIDS Day: wear your ribbons

Today - 1 December - is World AIDS Day. Given all the work going on with DISHA and Wake Up Pune, that's a big deal.

This time last year DISHA organised an event called 'Celebration of Life'. It was about bringing together the local community to be positive about HIV/AIDS, to remember that HIV is not the end, and that people living with HIV should be treated with dignity and respect rather than stigma and discrimination. In the morning we had a rally around the area, with local schools and community groups joining in. Then in the evening, there was a stage show - with plenty of laser lights and dry ice for added atmosphere - featuring dances, songs, street plays, positive speakers and all that jazz. It was fabulous. More than 3000 members of the Tadiwala Road community attended. Not that they could really stay away, since it was held slap bang in the middle of the slum.

This year - tied in with of Wake Up Pune - we'd lined up Celebration of Life 2006, even bigger and better than last year. Unfortunately, the event has been postponed. The cause: violent unrest in Maharashtra.

A couple of days ago, a statue of Dr B R Ambedkar was vandalised in Kanpur, in the state of Uttar Pradesh. Dr Ambedkar was a major figure in the Indian freedom struggle, a brilliant mind (he framed the Indian constitution and served as independent India's first Law Minister) and a hero to the Dalits - the so-called 'untouchables', of whom he was one. Dr Ambedkar was a champion of the oppressed, and in many hutments in Tadiwala Road you'll see a picture of him on the wall.

As a reaction to the vandalism, there have been violent protests all over Maharashtra. Pune is no exception. "Normal life was thrown out of gear as Pune and Pimpri-Chinchwad municipal transport buses went off the roads for a major part of the day. Angry mobs continued to damage buses, cars, other private vehicles and shops." (Maharashtra Herald, 1 December)

I don't think Dr Ambedkar believed in this kind of violence. But tensions run high, and at the moment there are a lot of 'offended sentiments'. I don't know whether this bloody unrest is solely a reaction to the original vandalism, or is in fact a symptom of the wider issues of marginalisation and alienation in the community. Perhaps people just enjoy a good riot.

Anyway, for the time being, the Celebration of Life is off. It's important to be sensitive to the local population - as Hans puts it, any kind of 'celebration' would be inappropriate at this time. As for the rally, people might get confused what it was about. I saw a rally going round Tadiwala Road yesterday evening and they definitely weren't celebrating anything.

Things seem better today though: some of the local shops have raised their shutters, and rickshaws are plying the roads again. Usually, these things blow over in a few days.

How blasé we can become.

Folks: please wear your ribbons for World AIDS Day and show your support for the cause.

2006-11-15T15:47:00.000+05:30

Tadiwala Road...from the air

Here's an aerial photograph of the Tadiwala Road area.

The dark blue line runs along the 1km length of Tadiwala Road, right up to the river. You can easly spot the densely-packed slum areas. Approximately 30,000 people live here.

The green dot shows the location of Deep Griha Society's Family Welfare Centre. The red dot marks the block of flats where I stay, just a minute's walk away.

At the south end of the picture you can Pune's finest hotel - Le Meridien - which has just hosted Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie for a few weeks whilst they've been shooting in the city. The media went crazy.

The light blue line shows Boat Club Road, one of the most exlusive addresses in town. It's a little leafier around there.

As you can see, the slum-dwellers (average income, Rs1000 per month) live almost side-by-side with people who can afford property at Rs2500 per square foot, or a hotel room at $150 (Rs6800) per night.

Interesting na?

2006-11-15T14:36:00.000+05:30

Pablo entrusted with responsibility

On Sunday I joined 29 children from Deep Griha Society’s Aadhar Kendra Sponsorship Programme for a day trip to the National Defence Academy (NDA). Going one these kinds of trips is one of the (many) perks one often gets as a DGS volunteer. This particular visit was well worth it for all concerned.

We'd initially been approached a couple of weeks ago by Shailaja from Perfect Relations, a PR company, whose corporate client wanted to arrange something around Children's Day on 14th November.

I went along to the head office of Synygy (an IT consulting firm) with fellow volunteer Jenny and DGS Team Leader Rajendra to meet the Managing Director and discuss how the firm could get involved with Deep Griha. Eventually we might be able to arrange a formal volunteer programme, but in the short term they wanted to arrange a field trip for approximately 30 children in the 10-14 age group.

To this end, they lined up a trip for the kids to NDA, a few miles outside Pune city up at Khadakwasla.

At 8.15am on the day itself, I joined Rajendra, two teachers and the kids outside the DGS office on Tadiwala Road. Then the Synygy-organised bus arrived and we were away.

The Synygy staff welcomed everyone with snacks and drinks as the bus weaved its way through the heavy city traffic. I hadn't been on a school outing like this for a good few years now and I have to say these kids were a lot better behaved than we ever were. In fact, they were on their best behaviour all day, always listening attentively and waiting patiently when required. Synygy pulled of a masterstroke by giving out corporate baseball caps, which enabled us to keep a close eye on our flock all day.

On our arrival we were met by two young cadets who looked after us throughout the visit, answering our questions and explaining everything for us. Although Sunday is their official day off, the cadets had generously volunteered to show us around - cheers lads! Interestingly, as a foreigner - woooo - I had to get prior security clearance to visit NDA, although they didn't seem too concerned once we actually arrived.

NDA itself is very impressive. Spread over 8,000 acres, the site is the premier training facility for cadets in the country and houses thousands of cadets and officers. Unlike most centres, the Academy trains cadets for all three of the combined services of the Army, Navy and Air Force. There's a parade ground, assault course, gymkhana, stadium, many sports pitches, an Olympic swimming pool, a firing range, fully equipped classrooms, a large auditorium and all the other facilities you’d expect from a top-quality Academy. For a country that spends eight times as much on defence than on education at least this is a place that combines the two.

We got to watch a short promotional film about the Academy before taking a walk around the grounds. On the way we visited centre museum and posed for photographs by various tanks, jet fighters and other military hardware.

There are portraits and statues around of the NDA graduates who gave their lives for the country and were posthumously awarded medals of honour for their bravery. Nearly all of them were in their twenties.

One of the highlights was visiting Peacock Bay on the shore of Khadakwasla reservoir. The children got to look around the TS Ronnie Pereira, a land-locked concrete training ship for the junior Navy cadets to familiarise themselves with the layout of a real vessel.

There was a slight hitch when our bus driver went temporarily AWOL and left us all stranded on the wrong side of the campus. Fortunately, Sunil from Perfect Relations demonstrated that he had the right stuff and managed to rustle up a spare bus from a nearby village. I’d hoped that we’d be able to blag a lift in a passing tank but you can’t have everything I suppose.

By the time we'd had a good explore it was time for some lunch. Synygy sponsored lunch at the NDA cadet canteen which serves up some pretty good food. The children certainly took advantage of a hearty meal, although perhaps a few had a little too much since we had a few bouts of car-sickness on the journey home... Still, the swag-bags distributed the children went down well. I wouldn’t have minded one myself. Sometimes I forget I’m not a 12 year-old.

For the children of Tadiwala Road slum, a trip like this is a rare opportunity. Aside from the educational value, it’s a chance just to get away from the city pollution and get a little fresh air. Hopefully, we’ll be able to run more trips like this in future.

2006-11-15T14:22:00.000+05:30

Wake Up Pune

I know. The posts have dried up again recently. I know I'm in danger of crying wolf if I plead lack of time but things really have been chaotic recently (though wonderfully so).

Workwise, at the moment it's all systems go for Wake Up Pune, which kicks off on the 20th November.

Wake Up Pune is a city-wide HIV/AIDS awareness campaign being organised by a coalition of agencies working in the field of HIV/AIDS. DISHA (Deep Griha's Integrated Service for HIV/AIDS) is playing a major role.

What the campaign boils down to is this:

Does Pune have a problem? Yes.
Does Pune know there is a problem? No.

India is now the country with the single largest number of people living with HIV/AIDS (PWLHA) at 5.7 million (UNAIDS 2006). One in five of those cases are in Maharashtra, Pune's state.

According the the latest figures we have, the National AIDS Control Organisation (NACO) conservatively estimates that HIV prevalence in Pune is 1.8%, nearly twice the WHO epidemic mark of 1%! These are numbers from 2002... I think they've given up counting recently.
Given that Pune has a (rapidly growing) population of 4 million, that's at least 80,000 PWLHA. Nobody talks about this. People are burying their heads in the sand. Hence Wake Up Pune.

I've just been working on the campaign website - www.wakeuppune.org - designed by Coen with content from yours truly. If you're interested, full details about the campaign can be seen there.

Since I'm on the subject, here's a quick refresher for everyone...

There are only four ways to contract HIV:

• Unprotected sex
• Sharing infected needles
• Exposure to HIV infected blood
• Mother to child transmission

HIV cannot be transmitted through:

• Coughing, sneezing
• Shaking hands, kissing or touching
• Sharing food or drinks
• Sharing crockery or cutlery
• Contact with toilet seats
• Insect or animal bites
• Swimming pools, baths
• Eating food prepared by someone with HIV

Check out the website if you have time. It's got a few images of the posters we're producing for the campaign, along with details of the various activities in the pipeline.

2006-10-16T18:18:00.000+05:30

Religion, politics and cricket

I got chatting to an autorickshaw driver - a rickshawala - the other day. This isn't unusual, but normally my non-existent Marathi and their often-limited English restricts us to vague discussions about the cricket or the state of the roads.

Paul and Rachel in an autorickshaw, Hampi

This particular fellow - Ashok C was his name - spoke better English than me. We had an interesting chat on my journey from Deccan back to Tadiwala Road.

First of all he asked me about religion, and the attitude in Britain towards Muslims. He was concerned about relgious divisions and the resulting violence. "All religions share an ultimate truth. God, Allah. I have Muslim friends, Christian friends, Parsi friends. I myself am a Hindu."

Next we moved on to politics, and the corruption and mismanagement that mars governance in India - and many other places. "If you have a product, even if the quality is bad, even if it is shoddy, you sell it in the most glowing terms. In the same way, this is how the politicians sell themselves."

Given that India is a stable democracy, why can't the rotten politicians get voted out of office? "If you have an honest, educated man and he stands for election, he will never win. Because he does not know how politics works... In the USA they have the right to recall. Perhaps here we will have this in 5-10 years."

Ashok is actually a Real Estate Agent. He rents out the rickshaw to a driver who pays him Rs60-100 ($1.30 - $2.20) per day. Sometimes the driver doesn't come, so Ashok drives the rickshaw himself, as happened on this occasion. He says that working an 8-hour day, the driver will make a net profit (after expenses) of around Rs150. For 12hrs, perhaps Rs200-500. Sometimes, this can be boosted a little: hotels pay a commission of Rs250, or taking an industrial supplier around for a day will earn Rs400 plus petrol costs. "It is the easiest way for people to make money with a limited level of education. But even then it is not enough for a family."

The global pricehike in oil has hit rickshawalas in the pocket. In Pune, the meter rate is around Rs7 per kilometer, although prices haven't gone up this year. "In the last year, petrol has increased in cost by around 30%. But we have not increased our fares, because then people will not get in the rickshaws. So it is a problem."

It was a real pleasure to get these insights from Ashok. When I arrived back home, he said farewell. "I can talk to people for hours about these kind of things. But unfotunately my profession does not allow it."

2006-10-07T13:10:00.000+05:30

Stud

One stud... holding a bottle of beer. Cheers Matt!

2006-10-07T12:50:00.000+05:30

Maximum Security

Here's a picture of something I spotted last year, at Bangladesh's Dhaka airport.

It's a mystery package, taped to the wall by the transit passenger desk in the departures hall.

Security risk anyone?

It turns out many transit passengers on an overnight stopover don't fancy lugging all their bags to the hotel. So they stick them to a handy wall and collect them the next morning. I'm guessing that's not allowed at Heathrow.

2006-09-20T11:25:00.000+05:30

Comments...

Some people have reported problems when posting comments. I've now removed the word verification feature so things should be easier now. I really enjoy reading your comments so please keep them coming...

2006-09-18T19:01:00.000+05:30

The Hill Club, Nuwara Eliya

Yesterday I visited Nuwara Eliya's venerable Hill Club. It's exactly the kind of place I'd never be allowed into back home, so I thought I'd take a look around.

Founded in 1876 by the usual colonialist suspects, the club is now frequented mainly by pukka Sri Lankans including - shock horror - women. Or 'ladies' as they are respectfully known.

Nuwara Eliya is another one of these hill stations set up by the British so that they could feel at home despite being thousands of miles away from good old Blighty. Since the Hill Club is over the road from the race track and next door to the golf course, they clearly went for it all the way.
At 2000 metres above sea level, the weather really was quite British: misty and rather cold. 'Bracing', I suppose you could call it. Still, the views were spectacular and I helped myself to plenty of fresh air.

As for the Hill Club, I paid my Rs100 temporary joining fee, settled into the Reading Room (pictured) and ordered myself a scotch. Well you've got to sometimes, haven't you? I had a snoop round the premises - there's a Men's Bar, a mixed bar, a billiards room, gym and a very well set out dining hall. These days, a portrait of the Sri Lankan President has taken Queen Elizabeth's place above the fireplace, but she's still up on the wall, with Prince Phillip to keep her company.

I had to push off at 7 o'clock, because that's when the dress code kicks in. Sadly I didn't pack my smoking jacket when I left the UK - I'll know better for next time.

2006-09-13T19:21:00.000+05:30

The jaw drops

I fell in love yesterday.

It’s been a real pleasure getting to know Sri Lanka, little by little, one step at a time. But yesterday, I fell head-over-heels for the place.

That’s three clichés in one paragraph. Sorry.

What did it? It wasn’t cycling around the spectacular stupas and ruins of Anuradhapura, Mahintale and Polonnaruwa, enjoyable as that was.

It wasn’t sitting on the first floor veranda at Kandy’s wonderful Olde Empire Hotel, nursing a cold beer and reading Kipling’s Kim - how colonial can you get? – or early morning walks around the lake.

It wasn’t even the cave temples at Dambulla, or the 45 minutes I spent all alone atop Sigiriya – the imposing ‘Lion Rock’.

So what finally tipped me over the edge? The train journey from Kandy to Ella. For less than a single on the London Underground, I got to experience one of the world’s classic train journeys.

I love to travel by train these days, leaning out of the doorway, feeling the breeze and enjoying the scenery. It’s such a far cry from Connex South Central. But this journey was something else. Snaking up into the hill country, the train crosses several viaducts, passing through many rock-cut tunnels and running alongside pine forests, farms and tea plantations. Every now and again, when you think you might be tiring of the sheer drops and lush vegetation, you turn a sharp corner to pass by a waterfall, or a bridge, or a village. It’s brilliant. After six or seven wonderful hours, I arrived into Ella and quickly found a decent bite to eat and a friendly guesthouse to stay in. Perfect.

I slept ever so well. It’s all this fresh air, I’m sure of it. After a royal breakfast, Sri Lankan style – hoppers, rotties and dhal, washed down with some delicious locally produced coffee – I went for a nice long walk up to Ella Gala Rock via the Rawana Falls. For the first twenty minutes or so, I followed the railway tracks, tiptoeing over the wooden sleepers. Then, crossing the iron bridge, I bumped into a very helpful local farmer, Mr Jinadasa. He showed me the correct path – I would have missed it – and we chatted for a while by the gentle falls. He gave me one of his tomatoes (I had it later with my packed lunch, delicious) and then guided me through the plantations and up the track to the viewpoint. Like any self-respecting up-country man, Mr Jinadasa races up steep slopes in his flip-flops, spots venomous snakes half a mile off and lights his bedi cigarettes using a match flicked against the nearest tree. It was a tiring climb, but – naturally – was worth the effort. I’ll post some photos when I can, but they won’t tell the whole story. Basically you’ll have to widescreen, Dolby, and THX surround-sound the snaps to get the full effect.

After getting back to town, I had a siesta before striking out for Bambaragala Falls, 6km from Ella down the winding road to Wellawaya, which hugs the hills and delivers cracking views all the way. As for the falls themselves, maybe they weren’t so much roaring as purring, and the torrents were arguably more miffed than raging. There was however, a plunge pool, and after fannying about for a bit, I stripped off for a wonderfully refreshing dip.

Of course, a delightful 6km stroll downhill is an endless trudge heading back up. Being the pragmatic type, I caught the bus.

2006-09-13T19:17:00.000+05:30

Misspent Youth

The other day, for a few, terrible minutes, I found myself possessing a copy of the Da Vinci Code. I wanted that about as much as a dose of the clap.

The result of a bungled book-swap deal, I had to get rid of the damn thing as soon as possible. Two or three years ago, someone lent me a copy, and I squandered a couple of precious, precious hours enduring Dan Brown’s obnoxious drivel when I should have been enjoying my otherwise excellent Spanish holiday.

Unlike critics who find fault with its crackpot history, ludicrous plot or even the ‘controversial’ religious content, I have no problems on that score. It’s just the way Dan Brown mangles the English language to such an extent I could feel my IQ dropping as I moved from one page to the next. Yes, you guessed it. I didn’t enjoy it much. Howard, my old Amarpurkashi parner-in-crime, writes a far more lucid critique here. Read it. He’s right on all counts.

Those wasted hours I will never have again. They’re gone for ever! Dan Brown, I want my life back! On my deathbed, I’ll be cursing my misspent youth. Along with those bloody Matrix sequels, countless pointless trips to Selhurst Park and my one visit to Ipswich, the time I spent with the Da Vinci Code will go down in my personal history as yet one more monumental waste of time. And don’t even get me started on Dude, Where’s My Car.

That is all.

2006-09-11T21:02:00.000+05:30

British Garrison Cemetery

Today I went for a walk around Kandy, and found myself strolling up to the British Garrison Cemetery. Now I don't normally tend to lurk around graveyards, but since the National Museum was closed I thought I'd take a look. It was actually very interesting. As I wandered around the well-kept grounds, I met the affable caretaker, Mr Charles Carmichael, who took time to explain many of the stories behind the inscriptions.

For example, take Captain James McGlashan (1791-1817), who fought with distinction at Basaco, Albuera and Waterloo before turning up in Ceylon. A confident fellow, he made the mistake of walking to Kandy from Trincomalee through the jungle, getting repeatedly soaked in the process and ignoring advice to take shelter from the mosquitoes. As the register states, "He was seized with violent fever and accepted his end with manly fortitude."

Another is A. McGill (1837-1873) who died in Ambegamuwa from sunstroke. This was unusual since Ambegamuwa is in the hill country; according to Charles, the poor chap ran for seven hours to escape a wild elephant, before dropping dead from exhaustion.

What of young William Mackwood, who died in an accident in 1867, aged just 20? He was supervising the clearing of trees when he leapt from his horse to avoid a falling branch, only to impale himself on a stake left in the ground as a marker.

One thing very noticable about the cemetery is how young most of the people were when they died. Many were in their early twenties, succumbing to malaria, cholera, diarrhoea or jungle fever. I'm glad I've had my jabs and that I've got access to clean drinking water.

Continuing the slightly maudlin theme, I saw a sign today in the window of the 'Wine City' bottle shop, which also - fabulously - trades as 'Kandy Medical':

IF YOU DRINK YOU DIE
IF YOU DON'T DRINK YOU DIE
SO WHY NOT DRINK AND DIE

Interesting philosophy.

2006-09-10T19:29:00.000+05:30

Me looking thoughtful. I'm actually cooling off in the ruins of an ancient bath in Polonnaruwa, Sri Lanka. Sadly there's no water there anymore.

Stupa at Mihintale, near Anuradhapura. The pictured monk was a serious-looking fellow.

Fifth century urinal stone from a monastery in Anuradhapura. The monks carved the image of another monastery on it, which - they felt - housed fun-loving monks who lived it up a bit too much.

Spectacular example of a moonstone in Anuradhapura. Amazingly, these beautifully carved stones were doormats upon which the monks wiped their feet before entering the temple.

2006-09-03T19:23:00.000+05:30

Hello everyone! Welcome to worldofpablo.com…

It’s been a long time coming but I’ve decided to relaunch the website with a new look and new address. I was getting sick of all the spam postings on the old site. Time will tell whether we have any more luck over here…

The new worldofpablo.com is supposed to be more of a blog than an online diary, so I’ll attempt to write shorter, more frequent posts. And with less of a limitation on pictures (the old site supported only ten) it should be more interesting to look at too.

According to my calculations, the last time I posted was in May. I know, I know. Since then I have:

Watched England lose on penalties… again
Topped the class for the Journalism diploma
Begun – and completed – a two month course in Technical Writing from the same department
Attended a one week course in Film Appreciation at the National Film Archives of India
Got soaked in the monsoon rains… repeatedly
Appeared in a least three newspapers (as subject not journalist, hey ho)
Grown a beard…
… and shaved it off again
Been galavanting around Maharashtra with Matt Hinde
Left India for Sri Lanka… temporarily

As usual I’m beginning with an apology for not having posted in ages. The longer I leave it, the more I have to write about, so I put it off for a bit… and the cycle continues. It’s like with emails. Sometimes I receive these fabulous long messages and I don’t have time to reply right away, knowing they deserve a proper response. Then I seem to let them pile up until they become rather intimidating and I suffer from a kind of email paralysis. Hopeless.

One of the reasons I left the UK was because everyone had heard all my anecdotes and I needed to rustle up some new ones. Suffice to say, that hasn’t been a problem.

DGS wise, I somehow found myself writing the script for the new Deep Griha DVD. Hopefully it’ll help with fundraising and awareness building. It was an interesting experience but took several attempts as I had to produce the first draft before I’d even seen the visuals. In fact, there’s been so much going on at DGS recently. For the most part I’ve been a witness rather than being right at the heart of things, but I continue to be amazed by these experiences time and again. There’s been a really good mix of volunteers recently – international and local – who’ve complemented the permanent staff really well. Shazma from Kenya, Laine and Aisha from Canada, Mo and the 2005-06 Link crew from Scotland, Sara and Kate from England, Jane from Canada, Aislinn from Ireland, Paul and Coco from France, all mixed up with lovely locals such as Meeta, Cheryl, Natasha and Sonu. And what with Sharon returning for yet another crack at DGS, it’s been wonderful to interact with so many interesting characters. I’m definitely starting to feel like an old hand, especially when Sharon and I sit around trying to come up with wind-ups for the new batch of Link volunteers. “Wear only purple on Thursdays” is my current favourite. Although I’m arguing that they should address the Volunteer Coordinator as “Oh Captain, my Captain”.

The Deep Griha 31st Birthday Celebrations on July 5th were fabulous. There was a big get-together at the YMCA, and many staff members came up and performed songs and dances. The female volunteers devised a fabulous dance routine to Bollywood smash hit ‘Kajra Re’, which was VERY popular. There was even a memorable encore in a Pune nightclub a few days later…

In the past couple of months, I’ve visited Sahara Aalhad Residential Care and Rehabilitation Centre a few times. It’s a care hospice in Pune for people living with HIV / AIDS, and has developed a close relationship with DISHA (Deep Griha’s Integrated Service for HIV/AIDS). Anyone who goes there will confirm that it’s an extraordinary experience. The dedication of the staff (who often go unpaid due to lack of funds) is enough to restore your faith in humanity. Working in the slums is really less about starvation and disease so much as a lack of education and opportunity. But when you visit Sahara the situation is completely different. People who have been often been abandoned by their families – frequently they’re just dumped there – and have typically only come forward at a very late stage, typically at HIV stage 4 (i.e. clinical AIDS) because of high levels of stigma and discrimination within the community. I’ll post some more about Sahara soon, but please read Hans’ ‘Chaos Within’ posts on the Deep Griha blog –

www.deepgriha.blogspot.com – for further insights. Hans has just returned from the XVI International AIDS Conference in Toronto and has some fabulous stories to tell... I'm sure more will emerge in due course. Hans usually leads the English-language awareness sessions but whilst he was away, Mo and I stepped up to the plate and gave a talk about HIV/AIDS to a whole host of international girl guides. It was a new experience for us both but I think we managed to pull it off.

It's strange. I’m not sure at what point I stopped being a visitor to Pune and at what point I realised I was actually living there… Perhaps it was when I signed the renewed rental agreement for my flat. Either way, my (twice-extended) visa just ran out so I’ve come to Sri Lanka for a month’s holiday / visa run. After obtaining a fresh six-month tourist visa – hopefully a routine procedure – I’ll return to India. I’m not sure yet how much of that I’ll spend in Pune and how much I’ll try and travel around a bit. I’m still very keen on visiting North India, perhaps Himachal Pradesh, Varanasi, and maybe revisiting Amarpurkashi too. After that visa expires it’s time to return to Plan A: hit the road for New Zealand, although perhaps with an illogical but exciting detour via Nepal. Basically by that stage I’ll be properly strapped for cash so will need to start earning as soon as possible. Admittedly I’ve been proceeding a little slower than originally anticipated, but who’s counting?

Monsoon season is upon us again. Last year Tadiwala Road suffered from severe flooding and we had to get cracking with relief operations. There were some exceptionally heavy rains in July but nothing as bad as last year. Nevertheless, many people from all over Maharashtra were displaced from their homes, including many families in Tadiwala Road. Things have eased off for now but there’s always the fear of water-borne diseases such as leptosperosis. Naturally, the roads have all been washed away, making for a spine-shattering experience when negotiating the traffic. An innocuous looking puddle can turn out to be a metre-deep crater, and rocks and gravel seem to be scattered randomly across the roads. It's interesting to be in Sri Lanka right now, where the climate is quite different. More on that soon.

Back in June the exam results for the Journalism Diploma were released. As luck would have it, I managed to top the class, just scraping a First with Distinction by a few marks. I hadn’t realised that being the class topper was such a big deal here, but it’s been lovely. There’s a tradition in India where you have to buy everyone pehda (a special type of sweet) to celebrate exam success. Let’s just say I never knew I knew so many people in Pune. It cost me a small fortune, but was well worth it. I even ended up in several of the papers – Times of India, Loksatta and Sakal – and consequently have been receiving random congratulations from all over the place, including the watchmen in my building.

It’s actually slightly frustrating because I’m not allowed to work here, which is a shame since I’d like to pick up some more experience.

Since Pune is – after all – the ‘Oxford of the East’, I decided to study a little more and signed up for a two-month Technical Writing course, offered by the same department. Jasmeet and Susham, both fellow diploma students, also took part. I enjoyed it, and somehow found myself agreeing to take a session on ‘British English’ for the Society of Technical Communicators (Pune branch) a couple of weeks back. Random? Yes.

Back in June I also attended an eight day Film Appreciation workshop organised at the National Film Archives of India, based here in Pune. It was great. We got to see some classic movies along with some wonderful short films. I was worried that film appreciation might end up like GCSE English Literature, overanalysing everything until pleasure goes out of it. But it wasn’t like that at all. My favourite session was from a Bollywood screenwriter, who gave us some fascinating insights into how the industry really works. Hmmm have some ideas for the future there…

Matt Hinde came over for 10 days in August – top stuff as he might say. I’ll post a full report soon, photos included. Suffice to say it was a riot. Just never drink 'Stud' beer if you can help it.

Thanks to everyone for being so patient. I really hope you’ll enjoy the new blog and would like to encourage you to contribute whenever and however you feel like. It’s very important for me to keep in touch… a very dear friend recently said that sometimes I was often more like a character in some faraway legend rather than a real person these days, so I’ll endeavour to keep you posted with my comedy antics…

Love to all, Paul xx