Trains, Rain, Spirit & Splendour Part 1: Insert 2 _____ Mumbai

Trains, Rain, Spirit & Splendour 

Part 1: Insert 2

MUMBAI – Early morning 29^th December 2012

I’m playing a waiting game now, trying to find sleep on cold grey floors in Mumbai airport, fighting with my phone and its inability to contact anyone, wondering if I've missed Lauren's flight, wondering how much longer I'll be stuck here. I’m hoping to glance upward at the right moment to catch Lauren as she arrives. I met an older Indian woman, who had just ‘upped and left’ from a job in Saudi Arabia which hadn’t been feeding her. She journey’s back now, to meet her family in Bangalore.

It’s a bizarre thing here, caught between physical spaces, not having stepped foot in the country outside of the airport doors, wide open to my right. I’ve packed and reorganised my backpack, changed my clothes, washed my hands and haven’t spoken a word to anyone except  goodbye to my four British acquaintances as they made their way out into Maharashtra, India. 

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No signboards to tell me when the Emirates flight from South Africa was going to land, I kept my eyes peeled on peoples bags and ears open for accents. It was four hours on those cold floors until my spirits soared as I saw Emirates labelled bags round the corners and brown beautiful and tired looking Lauren, coming around the corner. 

We flustered and embraced hello’s and stepped foot outside of those be-damned sliding doors. Immediately thronged by taxi drivers, wanting to take us to Colaba beach and Leopold’s Café for a whopping 2000 Ruppees; our senses told us to do better than that and we managed to book a 200 Rupee ‘tuk tuk’ through to our middle-of-nowhere bus-stop (if you could call it that). Lauren's backpack was thrown gingerly onto the roof while mine was stuffed next to us in the small gas run vehicle and we were hit senses first with the noise of blaring Indian traffic and the dizzying, worrying speed of everyone on the road, worrying about the wayward backpack on the roof but oddly ready to accept its dangling fate. 

Our driver didn’t know exactly where the bus depot was. After some middle-of-the-road stopping and direction-asking he wheeled around and left us on a dusty corner beneath a huge highway bridge. Mottled puppies wondered around in the dirt, people sat on the sidewalks watching us and our eyes bulged with the instantaneous shock of not knowing where we were. But somehow we mustered our courage enough to wander across the busy section beneath the bridge and began the long three hours search for an internet café and a place to eat.

 People pointed us in all different directions and our heavy legs carried us down streets lined with drooping Banyan trees, schools where young boys played cricket. We passed shoe repairmen, sweet vendors, a huge red Ganesha whom an old man was excited to point out to us, fruit sellers and a confusing array of places to eat! We found a tiny room with four computers to send out emails and update our social media, letting everyone know we were safe, if not somewhat bewildered and then decided upon a place to eat an Onion stuffed Roti, where I had my first ‘lovely’ toilet experience as well. (See my insert on toilets for a laugh! ) .

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A Glimpse of Ganesha

A Shoe Repairman

We were almost left beneath the bridge in that dusty intersection. If we hadn’t known the name of the coach and waved frantically at it as it  passed our waiting spot, it would have forgotten us and carried on. Not a moment to lose it reversed at a speed, took our tickets, shoved us on and before we had a second to contemplate our surroundings we were already on the main highway out of Mumbai along the sprawling slum city. Our backpacks at our feet, we had climbed onto the second level ‘bunk’ of the sleeper bus onto our two person sized mattress, replete with built in pillows, a rack for shoes  and a small TV already blaring a colourful Bollywood movie. Sleep was very welcome.

Backpacks at our feet

Trains, Rain, Spirit & Splendour Part 1: Insert 1 ____ In Transit

Trains, Rain, Spirit & Splendour 

Part 1: Insert 1 

IN TRANSIT – 1^st Full Moon, 28^th December 2012

On Board the first plane. Already other’s stories are emerging and merging with mine. I imagine there will be many tales to fill me as I journey. The girl with the thick black hair and the bright eyes is following her heart to Argentina, there is something I  deeply respect and am simultaneously frightened by as I survey her choices. Will my heart do the same I wonder?

We drove beneath a full silver moon to reach Cape Town International Airport, the mountain range above Noordhoek, a breathtaking silhouette. We were indeed being guided by the sky and now, into that seemingly infinite space, I will fly; fly and find freedom and love and magic and all that comes with it. It hasn't struck my yet, the alone-ness. I wonder if it will.

It’s been hellishly quick so far. I made a silly mistake and didn’t realise that lacto-ovo vegetarian meant that I choose to ingest dairy and eggs and not the other way around! This is of course mildly confusing for my body, but I think from now on its really mind over matter for all that I encounter. [I thank the ‘Mousebird’ card from the Bird Card Pack by Jane Toerien & Joyce van Dobben  for this http://www.birdcards.net/]. 

We have already begun our descent into O.R.Thambo Airport in Johannesburg and all that seems to occupy me are the devastating expanses of farmland instead of lush life, and surprisingly, just as I write that, the land turns to rich velvet green and I laugh to myself.

How do we find harmony with Mama Earth? Balancing cultivation with exploitation? I often wonder to what extent our intensive farming is excessive. Who’s mouths are we really feeding? Oh right. It’s not just the raw material, its products and by-products and pharmaceutical organisations. Goodness Mama Gaia I pray that what all us eco-warriors are doing will help bring you (and us!) back into balance! I love you my South Africa. It was an odd thing to stare out at your rising fire orange sun and breathe  a sigh as I murmured a silent goodbye to Mama Mountain. Already so far and the journey is yet to being! How delighting.

I choose to be present though. In each moment. This is not some dream, this is the reality that I am choosing to create.

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Like walking into paradise, golden beige seats and smooth cool air, music to soothe the soul and soften the travel frenzied temperaments, this is the beginning of my adventure. You have done well Ethihad Airways, you truly have! I met a man and his wife going to Mumbai; they advised me to go to Backwaters in Kerala. I met a family of Indians from Durban on their way to Chennai, Mumbai for a family holiday. The older woman was beyond sweet! I spotted someone kin like as well; golden dreads and big searching eyes, all clad in Indian already, she was with a young British couple. Everyone is on their move to the East. It’s so strangely beautiful. My own little paradise has begun…..

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Sleep doesn’t come easily. Weird positions. Stomach filled with the unnecessary evils of cheese. Headache. But still this un-tameable excitement. The reality of it persists!

IN TRANSIT –Abu Dhabi – 29^th December

Rasgulla! Egg shaped syrup soaked pods that oozed odd white moisture. Oh wonderful introduction to India.

Abu Dhabi Aiport Roof

I met four Goa bound travellers each from England. The kind clad woman with honey dreads and olive coloured jersey, one mild-mannered curious young lawyer from Plymouth and a couple with a Birmingham accent. We teamed together for a while, trading stories and tips about our adventures and finding solidarity in our hunger and our exhaustion as we moved along each flight (Now currently stuck in the regal Abu Dhabi airport, waiting on our delayed flight to Mumbai).

Olive Jersey Traveller

We finally boarded and the Plymouth lawyer and I talked about finding and following a sense of adventure as we stared out over the dark expanses of Saudi Arabia, lit up by the unnervingly structured trails of street lights and desert blackness.