Archive for Africa

Pilgrim of life

hajj

So, what’s the point if you live in London and can’t do something cultural every once in a while. I don’t know what really prompted me to go exploring on a cold Friday evening, instead of curling up on my couch with a cup of tea. Maybe, the fact that the British museum is just 20 minutes from home and I’d never set foot was reason enough. Within 5 minutes of entering the museum, I was already inspired to sign up for the annual membership. It just felt like buying a cheap air ticket. Free trip to different continents and civilizations, even though its all inside a museum.

Walking around, the first thing that strikes you is the vast central hall. Can’t really put it in words but it felt absolutely theatrical or dramatic. Like a story would unfold in front of your eyes any second.

As much as I wanted to go and see the Rosetta Stone, I decided to save it for another day when I had tons of time. For those of you who are wondering why the language training software is named Rosetta stone, it’s not named after a fat lady who speaks all the languages of the world. The Rosetta Stone is one of the most important historical finds that has been housed at the British Museum since 1802. The stone bore decrees inscribed in 3 scripts (hieroglyphics, demotic and Greek) and has been key to decoding Egyptian hieroglyphics. For any linguist or aspiring linguist, this is the Mecca.

With just about 2 hours in hand (guess what! the museum stays open until 20:30 Fridays), I decided to go and check out the two exhibitions Time out was raving about all these days.The first one was on the Hajj, the journey to the heart of Islam.

Year before last, one of my colleagues had undertaken the Hajj and I remember the preparation he went through and the life changing experience it was for him. Well, I took his word for it. But, I could feel it just through the way he spoke about it. That made me very very curious about the Hajj. I guess many people look at it just from the religious perspective – something every one of the 1.6 billion muslims around the world dream of going to. A once in a lifetime journey.

The exhibition showcased the work of contemporary artists who have attempted to bring to life this amazing journey to a non-Muslim audience. What was stunning was the journey that people took from different continents to reach Mecca and Medina and the simple principles that they try to live by during this time. It’s like going back to the basics.

One of the Islamic rituals of the pilgrimage is called the Tawaf. During the Hajj, Muslims walk around the Kaaba seven times, in a counterclockwise direction. The circling is believed to demonstrate the unity of the believers in the worship of the One God, as they move in harmony together around the Kaaba, while supplicating to Allah. The Kaaba is a huge black cube shaped structure and is the most sacred Islamic site. All Muslims around the world face the Kaaba during, no matter where they are. This circulation of the Kaaba is something that visually looks stunning in any video or photograph, like the one below. Can you imagine the energy there?

This has inspired many artists to create their tribute and that’s what stood out for me in the entire exhibition. One work of art by Ahmed Mater is 1000 little magnets bending towards a cube, symbolifying the attraction or the pull this divine structure has. Pilgrims who wait their whole life to reach this place feel this unexplainable pull I guess.

Funnily, the second exhibit at the British Museum was by Grayson Perry, a famous British artist known for his ceramic vases and cross dressing. He had spent two years almost creating this exhibition which was inspired by various works within the museum and contemporary life. He admits that he has traveled the world mostly through the British Museum. Grayson’s funny modern sculptures and ceramic vases would have charmed a history buff as much as it would have amused the average passerby.

I remember one vase talk about religion and how it may be difficult for a new God to establish himself without a Facebook profile. Another vase was dedicated to his really old childhood teddy bear Alan Measles. He relates it to Egyptian civilization and states that Alan, had he existed then, would have been a good friend of Bes, the Egyptian deity who was considered the protector of everything good and the enemy of everything bad. Just grayson’s imaginatiin makes you chuckle. (Check out his bike with Alan’s seat below) 

Another one was a curious odd Japanese hand towel, which had two hello kitty characters (modern cartoons) dressed as pilgrims from the ninth century (ancient ritual), an image found these days in women’s handbags. To Grayson, this embodied the spirit of the exhibition. The past and the present and the future all together. I noted down what he had to say about the exhibit and here it is -

Do not look too hard for meaning here. I am not a historian. I am an artist. That is all you need to know. When I was young I had an imaginary civilization. I became an artist and my civilization traded with the world and all its history. Now I am not sure where my imagination stops and where the works world starts. Deep in the mountains of my mind there is a sacred place where there is a monument to skill. The tomb of the unknown craftsman Is just as real as everything in this museum. The ideas and beliefs behind it are real. You are the pilgrims. Reality can be new as well as old, poetic as well as factual and funny as well as grim. The tomb could be another name for the british museum itself.

I guess you are wondering why I put the Hajj and the Grayson Perry exhibit both together in this one post. Interesting enough, the Hajj is a pilgrimage undertaken once in a lifetime and Grayson perry’s exhibition is one where you see that you are pilgrim of everyday life.

Travel Bloggers and Powerpoint

This is a travel blog. Yes. But, this is also a travel blog run by a corporate slave.

The last two months have been about Powerpoint presentations more than anything else.  And, I have done one presentation over and over and over again. So much that I don’t remember what was the story I was trying to tell in the first place. I don’t hate powerpoint. I hate it with all my life.

Don’t get me wrong. I really think it is probably a very cool invention. It looks quite beautiful – pictures, flying effects, transitions et all. But, in a nutshell, I think it is for people who lack the ability to communicate.

I still remember my Grandfather’s scribbles on my History textbook, drawing little maps of kingdoms and territories won over by kings. He was a super cool communicator. I remember my hockey coach showing game plays on sand. So on and so forth. They did not need Powerpoint to make a point.

All this got me thinking about why I hate it so much. Well, for starters, imagine I were to use Powerpoint as a tool to make my travel blogging or traveling better. What would happen?

Situation – My holiday to Egypt.

Step 1 – How I plan to take some cheap flights to Egypt. Show a slide with a faded world map with just your country and Egypt highlighted. Then, transition this to hundreds of colourful logos of various airlines around the world. They will slowly emerge from the map. Then, a bright colourful ugly chart pops up (graph ideally) showing the pricing of airlines. Then, out of all the logos, a few disappear (faded zoom) and the ones that are really cheap stay. Then, in a bright box, you type the key message – Such a long distance to go. But, very few cheap flights to get there. From that, you can switch slides and show a troubled backpacker with no money. That is me. Then, you switch pack to a the slide with minimal logos and knock them out one by one till the cheapest one stays on the screen. Point made.

Step 2 – Searching for hotels to stay. A creative presenter will go all visual and show images of the hotel rooms, facilities like swimming pools, sauna, beautiful balcony views, the food et all. The number cruncher will show the satisfaction graph on parameters like comfort, food, price, friendliness of staff, ratings. The combination presenter will merge graphs and pictures and highlight the key message with ugly bullet points. In my case, I would have probably shown one slide which shows the benefits of staying in a hotel and the benefits of staying with a family and quickly transitioned to a picture of a local family (very happy one with open arms welcoming me) and made the point – No hotels.

Step 3 – What to see in Cairo? Powerful images of Cairo zoom in from all corners showing the Islamic quarter, the Coptic area, the Pyramids of Giza… et all. They appear and turn transparent one by one, creating this crazy collage of faded pictures of a city. Then, in a psychedelic box, you have a key message about ‘So many places to see. So little time’.  And, God forbid you want to run your idea past someone, it won’t be that easy afterall. They might have a say in the animation order or the fading effects. You get the drift.

What can make all this worse? If you write your story about Egypt, and someone changes it to look like it was a story about Venezuela.

It would take probably a couple of hours to put this presentation together and then many many variations before you can get the point across.

My readers would stop visiting my blog and if there was something on the internet available to block websites, they would do that as well. All this if they did not already fall victim to ‘death by powerpoint’.

In the end, I’ve made up my mind that Travel blogging cannot be enhanced by Powerpoint. This is compeletely my point of view. Infact, if you spend all day making powerpoint presentations, you can probably use the power of blogging to vent about it or travel somewhere to avoid it all together.

Please imagine the last paragraph is in font size 72.

Vacation during war – What is happening to the world?

Someone once told me that it is a sign that you are a local the minute people start asking you for directions in a new city. Well, a new town as this case maybe. Taking the bus from Salzburg to Fuschl (the little town that has recently become my home), I was approached by this Libyan lady and her son. They seemed to be the only ones in the bus who seemed more lost than me with the language and the place. I very happily drew them a map of Fuschl and told them where to walk around and have a coffee. It almost felt like those elaborate excel sheet maps I used to make of my neighbourhood in Mumbai.

One thing that niggling me was why there were 2 Libyans hanging around in this remote place in Austria. As the case maybe, they took a 3 month vacation to avoid the war. Can you imagine that? Going away on a holiday when your country was at war. That made me think. What kind of social position they are in to actually take a vacation. Scary isn’t it?

Anyway, the son (who seemed absolutely bored with the stunning lake and sunset) kept coaxing his mother to leave. She seemed rather reluctant to leave Fuschl, while all her son wanted to do was be in sunny Malta, where they had been the previous week.

All in all, war in Libya, tourists in Austria, not something I would have even understood sometime ago. Not that I understand it now.

This escape from reality is the new reality.

Around the world in many Cups

People are clearly coffee people or tea people. Just like you find Dog people or Cat people. Just last week, a good friend of mine made a remark about how I had changed in 2 years. Apparently, when he met me 2 years ago, I would drink nothing but black coffee. Agree. About a year ago, I was overworked and I would drink nothing but Red Bull. Partly agree. Recently, he mentioned that my preference has changed to tea. Disagree. All this hype about Coffee, Tea and Red Bull, I decided to think about my life, my travels and really figure out who I am. So, here are plenty of coffee moments, some tea moments and many life lessons.

Nothing inspires me to write more than coffee – Coffee has been the savior. When I blog. When I write in my travel diary. More than anything, when I had to write innumerable mails at work. When I had to especially frame politically correct emails. When I had to apply for a job. When I had to write my resignation. You get the drift. (Infact, right now, that’s what I’m drinking)

Starbucks should not even be your last resort – If you are anywhere near North America, they sell you brown liquid in the name of Starbucks Coffee. I detest Starbucks. I avoid it all costs. Whoever came up with Tall, Grande and whatever? I know Americans like everything ‘supersize’ but it is ridiculous making anyone drink that amount of bad coffee. (I know my sister is probably going to kill me for this, but to save humanity from bad coffee, I had to write this). If they worry so much about the coffee farmers and so on and so forth (as it reads in their promotional material in store), they would stop spending so much money on real estate and give it back to society.

The best coffee can be brewed with socks – Honest to God. In Brazil, they have this coffee maker called a Cuador, which is nothing but a sock like cloth attached to a metal ring and handle. You put the coffee powder in this and Voila, you have a hot cup of awesome coffee. This makes a fabulous travel companion. All you need to do is buy the local coffee from a supermarket and boil water and you can make your own coffee, about 10 times cheaper than drinking coffee outside. If you do not get a cuador, fresh clean ankle socks works.

Meet the people behind the scenes and hear the coffee stories – Whether it is in the Guatemalan coffee farms or the Bali coffee estates, you’ll find coffee farmers to be warm and loving and ready to make the 100th cup of the day just to share with you. I remember sitting and chatting with this lady who was roasting the ‘Luwak’ beans in Bali and telling me the history of coffee. Known as Kopi Luwak, it is among the most expensive coffee in the world. The process of making this coffee will disgust you – they make the little Asian Palm Civet’s eat the berries and excrete the same. Then, the beans having gone through the intestines and out, are separated, cleaned and roasted and so on and so forth, till the most amazing coffee is made.

Sometimes, the only thing that can get you through bad coffee is good company – I love black coffee. Hanging around a bus station in Brazil with a friend, I was deeply disappointed to find only coffee chains with milky coffee and not the usual Cafezinho (small black coffee). Remember cribbing a lot. Then, the adaptable calm friend of mine picked up the coffee and literally thrust it on my face. One coffee slap was good to get me slurping out of the cup. And surprisingly, I enjoyed it as she cracked jokes about bus stations, travel, losing weight and all that. So, it is true. Bad Coffee + Good Company = Great memories.

The one thing on top of my sightseeing list in every city is the oldest café – Whether it is Café Sperl in Vienna or Café Tortoni in Buenos Aires, it was top priority for me to visit these cafes. All the museums and palaces of the world came next. Old world charm, black and white photographs, the history adds to the nostalgia.  Imagine sitting in the room where the King of Spain sipped coffee. I’ve landed up spending a bomb across such cafes but you never think money when you think coffee. These are far stronger memories than seeing a hundred paintings in a museum and not remembering one.

When in trouble, find an Illy - For those who take their black coffee seriously, visiting a new country and not finding the perfect blend can be worrisome. I’ve had terrible terrible coffee in Malaysia, North India and Egypt. A wise woman I met in Mexico told me that the easiest way to find good coffee in a country is to find the Italian Embassy or Italian Cultural Centre and hope they have a cafeteria. Illy rocks. (Now, I can’t help but remember the day my Italian neighbour in Chennai taught me how to make an Italian espresso – Read more here)

Never make the mistake of ordering coffee in Tea land – Was in Egypt last year and craving for coffee one day. Made the terrible mistake of ordering a coffee in the old markets of Cairo. With tons of Elachi and a terrible fragrance, one sip made me cry out Allah. I had the impression it would be close to Turkish coffee or Arabic coffee, dark and strong. Had no idea it came with spices. Prompty, I switched to Tea. It is not about the drink at all. It is about lounging around in a Sheesha place with a glass of tea for hours.

When you in the wilderness, coffee or tea, have it hot – After a long day bushwhacking or trekking or hiking or whatever you do in the wild, the only thing I yearn for is a hot cup of whatever. (This is obviously second to a cold beer, but I generally don’t carry a mini fridge when I go hiking). So, for a change, its not about coffee or not about tea but about hot water. As the kettle gently sways over the camp fire, you have this warm feeling within you that doesn’t go away. (Tried and tested in many places around the world – Special moment was in Swansea in Wales and Smoky Mountains in the USA).

While coffee goes with backpacking, tea goes with luxury – Unless you are backpacking in the Middle East or roughing it out in a guesthouse in Varanasi, I would suggest the best companion to backpacking is coffee. Anyway, coming back to tea, why tea and luxury? Recently, I was invited to a Champagne Afternoon Tea at the Dorchester hotel in London. No, I’m not kidding. With scones and jam, champagne and perfect little sandwiches, they served a whole bunch of us tea in fine china. I was so worried I was going to knock down something or break something. It was like being in the Titanic, with all the cutlery. Rated as one of the best Tea experiences in all of Britain, this was something way out of my league. (Ok.. someone else was paying.. Haha) Anyway, I’m not bad at role playing. I promptly held the cup like most of them do, with the little pinkie finger sticking out, pursed my lips and slurped away. And, I felt like the perfect lady when the waiter actually asked me, ‘Would you like some more teaaaaa?’. And, that is the London experience I worry about.

Saving the best for last, nothing beats South Indian Filter coffee – Yes, I’m that South Indian girl who grew up drinking filter coffee from a tumbler. So, now you know why the obsession to find coffee everywhere I go. This was just a few moments before my wedding (early in the morning), drinking a strong cup of filter coffee, freshly brewed at home. (My aunt was hyperventilating that I would spill the coffee on my Sari, but I managed). I absolutely needed to clear my head before taking that big step towards marriage. Like I said, nothing beats South Indian Filter coffee.

So, brought up in coffee land (South India) and obsessed with coffee land (Brazil), moving to tea land (Britain) is a bit of a worry. Especially after I read this quote. “Coffee in England always tastes like a chemistry experiment.” – Agatha Christie

And, such is life. No fear. What lays ahead is a path of discovery. I cannot wait to begin my coffee crawl of London and add to these stories here.

Wild affair with Travel God

I’ve never been religious. I’ve personally hated going to crowded temples and waiting in long queue’s to pray to God, when the first thing I was taught when I was a child was “God is one and everywhere”. But, I still went to temples to please my grandparents. And then, as I grew up, I saw random bullshit happening around the world over “which God is better” et all. It drove me nuts. I stopped going to temples when I moved out of home. The only time I visited a temple since then, was for my wedding, that too since the venue itself was a temple.

And its been more than a decade, temple free. But, I realised I’ve been making up by visiting all these sacred places around the world in the name of traveling and forgotten they are houses of prayer. Did I go there for God? God no. I’m trying to remember why I went – Architecture maybe. Unesco World Heritage site I guess. History for sure. Wonder of the World, who knows? Either way, I never prayed when I went anywhere. But, looks like there is one God hanging around across all these places and that is the Travel God. He loves me, chases me and makes sure I find him in the next destination or he finds me in the next destination. I’m having this wild affair with him and no one seems to mind. It is for him that I climbed those ridiculously steep steps in the Guatemalan temples or walked through claustrophobic passages in Egyptian temples. It is for him that I kept silent in the serene cathedrals across Europe or danced with no inhibition on the streets of Salvador. And, the beauty of it is that we keep discovering each other all the time.

So, here are the memorable moments from across the world in sacred places, where I found the one God to love. He made me fall in love with him and he taught me a lesson or two.

At Christ the Redeemer in Rio De Janeiro, Brazil – Where Travel God tested my patience with the crowds and the unbearable sun (not being favourable to my photography).

At the Cathedral in Cusco, Peru, just outside which my wallet got stolen. This was the first test of travel – Can a solo woman backpacker manage without money in a strange land. He was just putting me in a situation to see how tough I can be.

At the Bonfim Church in Salvador Brazil, on the day of Bonfim festival, the first house of prayer I went to after having beer and dancing. A strange new concept to me. But, he seemed to derive joy from the mad parade and I just went along.


At Westminster Abbey in London, where he showed me two sides of a coin. The place were union and separation exists under one roof. The place where so many people marry. The place where so many lay buried. I had goosebumps thinking about Grand Royal weddings. I felt more moved when I saw the graves of those Great poets, authors, scientists, nobles… The poets corner and so on.

At a beautiful Hindu temple in Bali, devoid of the loud chattering Pujaris that you often see in India or the crowds or the Aarti’s or the flowers or the fire. He showed me that religion is incidental. It doesn’t have to follow norms. The same Hindu temple in Bali was more Buddhist than anything else. Buddhism. Hinduism. Doesn’t matter. It was silent and beautiful.

At the Duomo in Florence, Italy where I found the Artist in him. The artistic cathedral itself. The artists outside the cathedral wanting to make portraits of you. The artist within.

At the Alhambra in Granada, Spain where he showed me that God is in the detail. The less said, the better.

At Chichen Itza in Mexico where I discovered that God doesn’t mind an evil side. All those skulls. All those demons. All those you see oh so often across the world. If we did not know what evil was, how are we supposed to identify what’s good.

At Abu Simbel in Egypt, where he taught me that nothing comes easy. Getting up at 2 30 am and taking a convoy to reach there to see the majestic idols at sunrise. What’s tougher. This whole temple was moved from one place to another and built piece by piece. Nothing comes easy, my dear.

At the monastery in Ladakh in India, where he showed me that God is as much in energy and restlessness as much as he is in calmness and patience. Check out the young monk and old monk and you’ll know what I’m talking about.

That’s the only spiritual discourse I have for the traveler’s soul. Tell you more when I meet him next.