oh darling, let's be adventurers!

The Old Man and the Rose

ruthandklas — Tue, 1 Apr 2014 17:22:00 GMT

On the 15th August 2013, Klas and I left London and started our adventures in India, the rest at that stage was unknown. We had a list of places we were keen to see and countries we thought we might visit, but because of the huge amount of stuff we had to organise before leaving the UK, the 7 1/2 months ahead lay open to inspiration. Looking back I'm happy it worked out that way, it has meant we've remained flexible. The routes we've taken have developed organically because we resisted the urge to plan, as though India has taken us on her own unexpected journey.

Before leaving the UK it was all about endings - endings with my clients, endings with my colleagues, goodbye to our little house and to a chapter of our lives in Edinburgh - well at least until we knew what our future plans would be. There were many goodbyes in Sweden and in the Midlands too, until we set sail into the unknown.

There have also been some endings along the way - back in February I made the decision not to return to my post with the NHS after taking a 12 month career break, which I was due to return to in July. A tough decision to make as I've been so fortunate with my position there and the experience I gained over the past 5 years, but most of all because of the fantastic relationships I've had with my colleagues. As we return from this big adventure, now seems to be the perfect time to take a leap into the unknown and to seek out new challenges, the decision I've made feels like the right one.

We've just spent the last week of the trip searching for Hornbills and rescuing ship wrecked cats on the sweet island of Koh Phayam, off the west coast of Thailand close to the Burmese border. A great place to kick back and contemplate the transition back to reality. As I write this on the final day of our trip, sat on a Bangkok rooftop, thinking about going home tomorrow, I'm caught between day dreaming about all the excitement we've shared versus what lies ahead...

No longer will I wrestle on overcrowed Indian buses with my backpack, brush my teeth with an audience of 10 men on the train, be woken up by the chai man at 5am, cross a busy street with the help of cows and goats, have to respond to - ' coming from ? ' or.. ' your country ? ' at least 10 times per day. At last I can return to machine washing and no longer have to wear any of these 5 t-shirts ever again! I know that once we reach home turf though, these are some of the intracacies of travelling I'll miss and things that I won't want to forget.

Thinking about returning home or even writing 'home' in actual fact feels strange, we're not even sure where 'home' is yet, 'home' in the physical sense anyway. I think for the first time in my life I'm not sure what I'm returning to. I remain curious, apprehensive too, but up for the challenge and excited about what the next chapter has in store for us.

During our trip we've stayed in 69 different places - some barely resembling anything like 'home' whereas ANET, although being so totally different from anything we've known, felt, for 5 weeks of our life, very much like home.

On this trip 'home' has become ourselves and each other, at times it is all we've had, relying on our own instincts, building resilience, knowing ourselves and our limitations because of the situations we've been thrown into - our relationship is stronger because of all of this. Perhaps this is why India has made such an impression on us - everything about this hynoptic and relentless culture has created a weakness in each of us which in turn has forced us to be stronger. The overwhelming poverty... the beautiful 6 year old girl with a snotty nose clutching at my legs... the family settling down for the night on a partition on the motorway... the man stuggling with a load the size of a small vehicle on his back, desperately attempting to pick up a cigarette butt off the ground - I feel it has been important to see it all, to feel what it feels like to live a privileged life and yet see how other people in this world exist, and the affect this has on us. To consider what drives people in their struggle to survive each and every day and to observe the wonders of their ingenious entrepreneurship. If this doesn't impact upon the way we see, choose, live and work in the world, I'm not sure what will.

I feel a new and different appreciation of humanity, of strength, of community and of the importance of pride. At times in some of the far away places we've chosen to wander, we've found ourselves out of our depth, sometimes lost, and people have helped us, shown us the way, given us honest advice and made us feel safe. Everything always seemed to work out. Maybe we were just lucky but I'm not sure I believe that.

It might be the end of the big trip but now seems to be all about beginnings - we're going back to create a new life for ourselves and a new 'home', in the physical sense but also in terms of incorporating the ways our experiences have shaped us and shifted our perceptions. The rest is unknown. Like our friend Dave recently pointed out ' just because you're not in India doesn't mean the adventures have to end ' ;)

There's certainly so much to look forward to!!! There are new babies to meet!.. babies on the way!.. engagements!.. the weddings of some of our favourite people! Huge reasons to celebrate and lots of opportunities to catch up properly with our families and friends. In terms of work there will be new projects and ventures, artmaking, new connections and lots of learning. We want to approach all of this without letting go of what we have inside us at this precise moment, allowing all that we've gained to guide and inspire us.

When I was about 11 or 12 years old I was sat on the sofa at home looking out at the garden, a very old man walked slowly by, before he passed he stopped and gently bent down to smell one of the roses. This moment brought a tear to my eye, and still does sometimes when I think about it. I didn't know the man and I doubt he's still around but this small memory has always stuck with me. Something about taking time to appreciate the small things, the beauty which lies around us, asking nothing of us but giving so much in return if we just take the time to notice and remain open to feeling moved.

The Theory of Doors

ruthandklas — Mon, 31 Mar 2014 17:07:00 GMT

My father wisely said to me once when discussing careers that one must change ones job once every seven years to avoid stagnating in ones ambitions - 'one must never become comfortable' he said. With new challenges come renewed energy, personal development and furthering of knowledge. He often uses the analogy of the door; 'keep the door open' (options); 'don't close any doors' (relationships); 'new doors have opened' (opportunities).

Before we set off travelling Ruth and I had both been through a very intense period in our lives balancing work and social life with living far from our families; we were stretched thin and needed a change. Not everyone around us understood how we could so easily up-root and seemingly 'give up' all that we had; jobs, flat, salary and car. For many people that we have met in India the idea of not working for 8 months is inconceivable, never mind not having a home to return to at the end of it - one of the most common questions asked being; 'how did you get a holiday for so long', followed by the upfront; 'how can you afford it?'

Economic society, European or Indian, is constructed around the idea that people work, pay taxes, nurture a younger generation and prosper together. Taking an 8 month leave is in many cases seen as going against the grain. Now, I'm no rebel, believe me, I want a house to knock-down, re-build and renovate too (preferably with a nice profit once sold), and going travelling for me is not about giving society the middle finger. I have always been curious of other cultures and of seeing different landscapes from the ones I grew up in. I think that the one really important characteristic of a good architect is their sensibility to context and people; you learn a great deal about yourself and the place you're from when seen in contrast to completely different cultures. So going travelling is about further education; it's about the Theory of Doors.

As Adil, an Israeli guy we met in Meghalaya, put it; travelling is a four-stage process of relating to the door. Firstly, one must realise the door is there; secondly, one must dare to open the door; thirdly, one must step through the door; and fourthly, one must choose whether to close or leave the door open.

Ruth and I met as flat-mates in Edinburgh in 2005, and I remember taking my first tumble towards falling for her whilst we compared stories about far-flung places and about New Zealand in particular; we were both certain to go travelling again as soon as University was over. We knew the opportunities, the meetings and the fun that lay behind this door. The first stage is about dreaming, imagining the time away together, the places you will visit and the people you will meet. And we dreamt about this trip since then, seeing the door every day but not touching the handle - life pushed in and other priorities crept in. That's why the second stage is such a defining one, because you either open the door or you spend the rest of your life wondering what's behind it. It's an emotional moment when you turn the handle, you turn your life upside down, every penny goes towards saving, you have awkward meetings about leaving work, you say goodbye to many good friends knowing that things will not be quite the same when, or if (see stage 4), you come back.

Stepping through the door is not as simple as getting on the airplane. I left my office job four months before we flew out of Heathrow to start up my own business; I flew out knowing that I had four very exciting projects to return to. So although my body had arrived in India, my mind was still at home - I switched off and packed away the computer only 5 hours before departure. My mind was also with friends, and as I've come to realise whilst away, with my family; I've not seen them nearly as much as I would have liked to in the past five years.

Stepping through is a transition from home to away. It is a movement into the present leaving behind manufactured commitments for selfish fancy to dictate the mood of the day. Eventually, you allow yourself to pause the realities of home and become a traveller, which, for me, happened whilst trekking in Nepal. From that point onwards you finally relax and the reasons for opening that door in the first place gain clarity; time to reflect, time for conversations, time for Ruth.

Adil, our Israeli friend, was on his own personal journey; travelling for him was a state of being and his journey was conceptual as well as, I suspect, psychological. He wanted to attempt to leave everything behind - including values. He wanted to completely become part of the fabric of the place he happened to be in, without pre-conceptions; he wanted to step through and then to close the door behind him.

I can, in an 'Into the Wild' kind of way admire Adil's point of view, but now, whilst contemplating our imminent return home, I'm very grateful for being able to step back through that open door. I have become an uncle whilst away, to Elliot, and I can't wait to meet him, my sister is getting married this summer and we have a handful of other weddings to celebrate with amazing friends when back. The past eight months has given us that energy that we so dearly lacked, energy that we will now share with our friends and our families.

This hasn't been an eight month holiday; it has been an eight month period of reflection and of allowing ten years of very intense education to settle. I have made incredible connections in the Andamans; new doors that have opened which I would never have known had we not travelled. I opened a new door, and left it wide open, just before leaving with starting my business and have brilliant projects waiting to start up now we're back. I am excited about developing these in the years ahead; and now I have heaps of energy for it!

I fell in love with Ruth over a conversation on travelling and this trip has nothing but re-affirmed that love. This trip has given us experiences and friends that will define us forever; experiences that have strenghtened us as a couple and which will form the foundation for new ones. I am excited to come home and if you ask me 'what's next?', I'll answer you in a sobbing Ben Fogle manner: 'family'?!

Infuriating India - Magical Meghalaya

ruthandklas — Tue, 18 Mar 2014 20:59:00 GMT

As I turned on the shower it really was as hot as Ruth had said, and combined with the pressure, soothing in a way I can't remember since early January - yes no proper hot shower since our last night in Bangkok. I felt the dust and the soot run off me, the water was actually black; I blew my nose into my hand - black and disgusting too. 36 hours of travelling running off and out of me. We had set off from Darjeeling for our last adventure in India, happy to drop below 2000m again, shed the fleeces and enjoy the heat, but then - one delayed train; 9 hours spent sitting on a dirty mosquito infested platform; an involuntary overnight train journey once the train arrived; coach full of agitated, mainly male, passengers and the accumulated waste (and rodents) of having departed from the other end of the country; night-time harassment of Ruth by some disgusting, poor specimen of a man; rest of night spent sleepless and scared; life-threatening journey up the half-finished mountain road at uncomfortable speed whilst breathing dust and diesel all the way up there; arrive into yet another noisy and polluted hill-station; despair and tiredness, a runny nose.

At this point we decided to throw in some more money than the budget allowed and we got a private taxi to our destination, still not knowing whether it was going to get any better but trusting good advice from friends. As the city subsided behind us the countryside opened up; it seemed the day would most likely end alright and Ruth fell asleep in the back seat. As we drove across the Meghalayan plateau towards Cherrapunjee I was lazily enjoying the stunning scenery, with vast valleys dropping off the sides of the road steeply, and the beautiful Khasi villages lining the road.

After arriving, and after THAT shower, we sat looking out over the misty hills rising up from the Bangladeshi plains with the sun setting in the west whilst sipping tea. We were clean and content, and once again this amazing country of contrasts had saved us. Travelling India requires endurance; you don't just move from one amazing place to the next, the in-between can sometimes be enough to book an early departure out of the country. But if one endures the hassle, the dust, the pollution, the stares, the poverty, the begging, and the indecent men, you always get your reward - it is just how it works. It was as if Mother India wanted to remind us one last time before heading home that if you persist here, if you see through the dirt, then she is all too easy to fall in love with.

And what a reward Meghalaya is!!! A land of bees and butterflies, tucked away between Assam and Bangladesh and well off the beaten track in India. It is where the women rule, following a matrilineal tradition where husbands and children take the surname of the mother. Khasi is the main language and the people, from a Burmese/Chinese background, give wide smiles as they greet you with a 'Khublei' - hello in Khasi.

We were here to explore the living root bridges that Jackson, from ANET, had told us about. These amazing structures are created from Banyan trees; trees whose roots grow above ground as additional support and water source, and these roots have been trained across rivers as wide as 30m creating incredible 'living bridges'. The tradition of guiding the roots goes back hundreds of years and Dennis, whom we were staying with, discovered them only 15 years ago whilst walking in the area. Before then the locals simply considered them as a convenient way to cross the rivers which, during the monsoon, become huge roaring masses of water - Cherrapunjee has the Guinness World Record for the highest annual rainfall and the area is known as the 'Scotland of the East'.

Still, the area gets very few visitors and we felt like superstars when walking through the villages with children pointing, smiling and running up to us; shocked when we greeted them in Khasi! Dennis' guesthouse is perched on a ridge in Laitkynsew high above the valley, so after a day of exploring the largely Christian community and enjoying the views, we packed a small overnight bag before heading down into the jungle to explore the bridges - spending the night in Nongriat on the valley floor.

2227 very steep steps take you down to a string of villages along the river where life is as peaceful as it gets. Busy honey bees buzz all around you (the area is famous for the honey), thousands of butterflies flutter between trees, beautiful women give you wide red betel nut infused smiles as you pass, strong men carry large, wonderfully smelling, sacks of bay leaves heading back up the steep steps, in the distance brown sheer faces of limestone shoot up from the jungle and rivers pierce the green landscape. We sweated as we climbed up and down the humid paths and then cooled off in crystal clear river pools trapped between huge boulders. The bridges are completely like something out of Lord of the Rings and some of the most beautiful built things I've seen, spanning rivers and generations, and showing off human ingenuity and ability to live alongside nature.

That night, whilst sharing stories with a permanent Israeli street musician traveller, we kept hearing loud horn like noises that Adil claimed came from a small amphibian - we set off to find out the source. Adil took us down below the famous double-decker bridge and gave us a 'leg-up' into this water filled hollow in the rock where a tiny purple frog was sat inflating its cheeks and giving off an almighty amplified croak. Laughing, we returned to swapping stories about the best off-the-beaten track destinations; I think Adil will head for the Andamans next!

The next morning, over breakfast, we got to know Byron and his father, now 76, who last year carried a fridge/freezer all the way down the 2227 steps on his head. This is not the first time we've met a fitter-than-average OAP whilst out in the most primitive villages - their peaceful and healthy, though hard, lives seem to be the key to a long life! With this in mind we set out to trek back up the steps.

On our last day in this incredible place we went for lunch in the village after a morning spent reading and lazing in the sun. More smiles and polite pointing greeted the foreigners whilst we tried to make our food order understood; pork fat in gravy with paratha and meat pakoras was served. We smiled, ate, paid and left - yum.

When stepping back out the local church group was getting ready for an outdoor service, so we stayed to enjoy the enthusiastic singing. Before we knew it, we had been ushered to sit down, been given a Khasi hymn book and were attempting to sing along. Not wanting to be rude we stayed the whole service, which was 2 1/2 hour long and first involved some very beautiful singing but then proceeded to an hour of the preacher essentially shouting the word of Jesus to his increasingly fidgety audience. The service then ended in a number of American inspired healings before half the congregation rushed up to us to ensure we came back for dinner. A lovely dinner followed, although we had to eat pork fat for a second time that day, with the most gorgeous children fighting over showing us around whilst our kind hosts were curious to find out as much as they could about us.

It's now time to leave this country of mad contrasts, and the idea of seeing our families and friends at home soon again is beginning to feel real - we've missed them! Leaving Meghalaya means going back down that road, filling our lungs with dirt and fumes. Leaving Meghalya more importantly also means adding another magical experience to the diary; a totally different India with its mesmerising landscapes, its tangible history, fascinating culture and people who so warmly invite us into their world, so distant from our own. Our experience here has reminded us that new discoveries, even in today's society with its ever-increasing population, is possible.

Tea, Trekking and Tiny Temperatures

ruthandklas — Wed, 12 Mar 2014 21:06:00 GMT

Darjeeling... I pictured lush mountain hill tops, neatly scattered with sun drenched tea plantations, perhaps the odd tea picker or two in brightly coloured clothing, and maybe a few road-side tea stalls offering the day's finest pickings and opportunities to gaze out over the magnificent Himalayan mountain vista...

Landing in Darjeeling having just spent 6 weeks in the tropics of the Andamans came as a shock to the system. We quickly realised that this tea-famed hill station was pretty far from our romantic expectations.

My first thought as we struggled through the smoke choked, litter lined back streets was 'What have we done!' - had we really chosen to leave behind the heat of the south to spend our last few weeks in India freezing our butts off in Darjeeling? I literally felt myself shrivelling away into a heap of snow and ice. We had no idea it would be this cold.

Back in November after completing the Annapurna trek we'd packed up and sent home all our warm gear, not anticipating we'd need it again. There's only one thing more striking than a pair of lost looking foreigners fighting their way through the hustle and bustle of Darjeeling street life - a lost looking foreigner in minus conditions wearing flip flops and a beach dress (that was me!). No haggling was required as the man selling us the fake Mammut fleeces saw the chattering of our teeth and our lips turning blue. I rummaged for the best of the garishly coloured gear in the limited local market including long-johns, a shawl, gloves and a wooly hat, the same one I later spotted a 90 year old woman sporting. Now I really did look the part, or more like ready for retirement.

Once kitted out and stationed at Andy's Guesthouse (cold but squeaky clean) and run by a sweet Mr & Mrs Gurung, we were ready to sample the famous Darjeeling tea and found ourselves in the very surreal Windermere Hotel. As if transported straight back to British colonial times we indulged in over-priced afternoon tea in the Victorian style 'salon' where we were aptly joined by an old English gentleman who enthusiastically told us about his schooling in Darjeeling in 1946 blah blah blah and 'oh how Darjeeling has changed ' - yawn and time to escape! Just before leaving the hotel I had an Alice in Wonderland moment, whimsically wondering whether we'd step outside to find ourselves in the heart of the English countryside having dreamt up our wonderful Indian adventures after all. We were relieved to find the world outside was just as it should be.

We had planned to visit Darjeeling because of Arnab's recommendation to do the Singalila trek (Arnab is a Land Artist who we met at ANET, working on the treehouse build with Klas). - a 5 to 7 day hike taking you up onto the ridge which straddles India and Nepal, with views out over Bhutan and Sikkim. At its highest point the ridge reaches 3675 metres, and most excitingly - provides the opportunity to stroll past 4 of the world's 5 highest peaks - Everest, Kanchenjunga, Lhotse and Makalu.

A guide is mandatory in this region because of border control between India and Nepal and this was swiftly arranged in Darjeeling over a chai with Subash who managed a local trekking agency. Ajay, our guide, close in age to ourselves, welcomed us onto the 5 day trek by inviting us into his family home and presenting us with Buddhist 'good luck' scarves, which he tied onto our backpacks. We also had the pleasure to meet Anita, his wife and their gorgeous little daughter Ashnita.

The trek is considered as a type of 'tea-house trekking', and happens in a similar way to what we experienced in Nepal. You spend each day hiking (between 6km - 22km) depending on the altitude and gradient and in the late afternoon or early evening arrive to a small mountain lodge where dinner and a bed is provided, heat unfortunately is not. The great thing about having a guide (which we realised we'd missed out on in Nepal) was being thoroughly looked after. Ajay brought us hot water to wash our faces, fed us endless amounts of tea and biscuits and best of all gave us hot water bottles before bed - which we desperately needed, I have never before slept in waterproofs! He even woke us up in the morning with a cup of tea!! Primitive luxury. He also had a fascination with taking artistic style photos of us whilst hiking, some of which were a bit odd actually.

During the first couple of days spring came to life with the first blossoms as we hiked through misty oak forests, which reminded me of autumn in the countryside where I grew up, and although we sensed the valleys falling away from us on either side, could only make out a few steps ahead. As we climbed higher we entered red panda territory and hiked through green and blue bamboo forests which covered the hilltops as far as we could see, the mist had finally started to lift. Along the way Ajay shared his extensive knowledge of the local flora, which included teaching us how to make a toothbrush from a twig and the Hindu legend connected with indentations resembling teeth marks on a certain type of leaf.

On day 3 we made the final steep ascent from Kalipokari to Sandakphu, along with Ian, our new hiking companion we'd picked up at the lodge the previous evening, interestingly we discovered he'd been the script writer for Eastenders, Casualty and The Bill for many years, but now preferred to travel the world!

We reached Sandakphu at midday, 3675m, the highest point of the trek, We raced through the army checkpost and up onto the hillock above the lodge to see if we would catch a glimpse of elusive Everest, (remaining hidden along the trek up to now), before it became enveloped by the accumulating cloud.

We had spectacular 360 views of some of the highest Himalayan majestic mountains, Lhotse, Makalu, Kanchenjunga and the highest peak in Bhutan, they appeared so close despite being 200kms away in some cases - a measure of their sheer size. Everest remained tucked away in the cloud, tomorrow morning would be our final chance to catch a glimpse before heading steeply back down along the ridge to the village of Rimbick - for a hot shower, a celebratory beer! and the return to Darjeeling the following day where we'd say farewell to Ajay.

Klas peeped out of the frozen window by the side of the bed, orange light poured into our tiny wooden room; I looked at my watch - 5.30am. We rolled out of bed (already dressed for the day) pulled on our boots and speedily climbed the nearby hillock, the highest point apparently in West Bengal, Ajay and Ian were just behind us ( Ian unfortunately scared of heights found negotiating this climb at the crack of dawn rather challenging). Once at the top we had the most unbelievable view of Everest along with his brothers, sisters and cousins. A radius of mountain peaks illuminated by the red glow of the early morning sun, bringing highlight and shade to the spikes and valleys. We felt completely speechless (that could also have been due to minus conditions to be fair ;) - a super memorable moment.

I reflected on how fortunate we've been throughout our adventures, experiencing these powerful and serene moments surrendering completely to nature. A feeling of being in the absolute right place at the absolute right time, from the bottom of the ocean to the highest mountains of the world.

During our first days in Darjeeling we felt miserable and cold, a few days hiking in the mountains had left us feeling totally transformed, reassured and excited about what India had in store for our final adventure..

Photos: The Andamans

ruthandklas — Sat, 1 Mar 2014 21:20:00 GMT

Peed on in Paradise

ruthandklas — Fri, 28 Feb 2014 14:56:00 GMT

Diving is a rite of passage for the serious backpacker (I did my Open Water on my last travelling adventure 12 years ago), and the Andaman Sea is one of the most popular places in the world to do so - in Thailand. However, the islands that give the sea its name are untouched, unspoilt and uncrowded. To dive at the Andamans instead of 250km to the east is like when you have that perfect day in the Alps - crisp sunny morning and fresh powder overnight - but instead of sharing the experience with thousands others near the ski-lifts, you have it all to yourself because you hiked up two days earlier, stayed in a remote hut and is now anticipating the joy of sharing the untracked snow with your good friends only.

The Andamans rewards people who go out of their way to get there and the diving we've done there together with Lacadives is nothing short of perfect paradise moments. You wake up slightly earlier than normal (6am), have a quick Chai and walk to the beach (whilst Shyam speeds past in the jeep with all the gear), then load up the dunghi and set off with the sun rising over the emerald blue sea. Our boat is the only boat out there, we're the only divers there, new sites are still being discovered, and you dive with people who care, love and know so much about the incredible coral reef and its life there. In between dives you drink more Chai, eat biscuits, listen to music, go snorkelling, sun bathe and compare underwater stories - its an underwater version of the perfect powder day.

During the last week at ANET I mourned the departure of the tree house team and spent my days either in conversation with Tasneem and the core ANET team about future projects and possibilities for linking up (we feel so completely at peace here and can't wait to return!) or went diving. We got to dive around Chirya Tapu (1 hour drive from ANET) - on the wreck dive we had 30m plus visibility, the descent was like a slow-motion skydive and the fish life was straight out of Nemo, and we also dived at Cinque Island, an amazing underwater boulder landscape, with huge amounts of fish in formation everywhere around us.

When we set off for some island hopping, emotional and hung-over after the crazy, shakira-dancing art exhibition leaving party the night before, we were looking forward to seeing more of the islands but sad to leave ANET behind again. First we travelled through Middle Andamans on the controversial Andaman Trunk Road that cuts straight through the territory of the anthropologically mysterious Jarawa tribe - from an African negrito background (Africa is far away...). Ravi, ANET's Mr Fix-it-all who took us to the station in the morning, assured us over morning chai that we would never spot them. So when four of them were stood next to the road when our convoy passed (vehicles are only allowed on the road at certain times in convoy) Ruth and I felt a strange mixture of excitement, privilege, sadness and shame over modern society's interaction with them. There really are very few places left in the world where people live completely untouched by Apple, Google, Coke or concrete, and a glimpse into their world is selfishly exciting. But realising that their continued existence is seriously threatened by development and over-population is really sad and makes you question whether we really need to map out every corner of the world.

The rest of the journey to Ranghat was spent in contemplation (we were hung-over after all) whilst our bus cut through incredible thick lush jungle and rolled on and off rusting car-ferries crossing narrow expanses of river like sea inlets - perfect crocodile territory (didn't spot any though). On route we met Radju, the chef at Blue Planet, Long Island, where we were headed. Together we travelled through quiet, peaceful little villages to reach the jetty where a small fishing boat navigated the backwaters through dense mangrove forest to reach Long Island just before sunset. We immediately fell in love with this exceptionally sleepy place where we spent 5 days marvelling at the stunning timber buildings - now in a suitably photogenic, weathered/run down state, and drinking Chai with the locals and finding out about the difficulties facing the island after the timber saw mill closed down (sadly many people are now un-employed and the very skilled carpenters no longer pass their skills to the new generation who choose to leave the island). We also had a lot of time for reading books at Blue Planet, we hiked to remote and perfect Lalaji Beach through dense jungle, and we digested and reflected on our amazing time at ANET.

On our last day we joined the very pleasant early morning island rush hour, involving two Chai stops, before getting on the ferry to Havelock Island. Havelock is THE place to go in the Andamans and we had been given a great deal of mixed reviews about it which was partly the reason we didn't visit in December. I was expecting a Koh Tao - a heaving backpacker dive island spiced with Indian honeymoon couples and package tourists from the mainland, and Havelock is busy, but by Andaman standards. So instead Ruth and I were super-excited to find it chilled-out, with great cafes, friendly locals, smiling travellers and perfect beaches - this is where you find Radhanagar Beach and Neil's Cove, regularly voted as one of the top beaches in the world, where we lazed the days away with books, yoga or snorkelling.

Adding to our Havelock experience, Susheel, who joined our party at the last night at ANET, and his Austrian wife Uli looked after us with great generosity at their magical jungle resort, and Zan, a Canadian yogi/dive master/professional traveller who we met at ANET came out to see us again. Together we dined, dived and discussed our time away in paradise. On our dive we spotted a rare, and very shy, little sea horse, as well as a huge giant grouper, and an electrifying cuttle fish, and in conversation I learnt about the scary corrupt power of the Indian concrete companies that is destroying the vernacular architecture of India.

On the second last night Smita, Tasneem, Savita, Chetena, Paroma and Pooja all came out to join us from ANET and that night, whilst surrounded by good friends and laughter, we felt as though we had stopped travelling altogether. The Andamans has completely opened its arms to us in a welcoming hug and the sequence of events leading us here - flying to Ladakh in the north of India in September, me getting altitude sickness and us therefore choosing to leave early leading us to meet Smita on the long and spine-jangling journey to Manali and therefore ending up visiting and falling in love with ANET, has really come to define our travels. We have gone with an open mind and fate, God, clinamen, or whatever one believes in has taken us to paradise!

Ohh, and what's with the title you wonder? Well it's not all great friends, tree houses, art making, emerald seas, mind-blowing diving, crystal white beaches, humid jungles and facinating wildlife. Blue Planet, which is run by a lazy, colonialised British woman; "resting on her laurels" as Ian, a true British original weirdo, so eloquently put it, is the only place to stay on Long Island and is an unfortunate example of the dangers of monopoly. It is nice enough but cramped, run down, expensive and the rooms are shared with permanent rodent residents. This is not actually that unusual when it comes to permeable bamboo hut living but it is nonetheless not a pleasant experience to, whilst still lying in bed in the morning contemplating how to best spend another day in paradise, beeing peed on by a rat!

ANET TreeHaus Project

ruthandklas — Thu, 20 Feb 2014 16:17:00 GMT

When new visitors arrive at ANET (Andaman and Nicobar Islands Environmental Team) one is taken on a reconnaissance walk around the property. From the large timber hall and library at the front gate, via the dive shop and the social/dining/kitchen space overlooking the pond holding the harvested rainwater, past the vegetable garden and the huts for the researchers, interns and volunteers down to the mangroves and then curving around the mud flats and back into the forest past the huts of permanent staff and visitors.

When Ruth and I were taken on our 'reci' walk by Smita back in December she pointed out this elegant Banyan tree overlooking the mangroves and mentioned ANET's plans to build a tree house there in January. At that time I was too pre-occupied (scared) with ensuring I didn't step on any snakes and didn't therefore take much note of this exciting project.

Our visit to the Andamans in December left us genuinely in love with the place and with ANET in particular. So when learning about their intention to develop an Arts division to complement the already existing functions of Research, Education and Policy, with the building of an Art Studio Tree House marking the beginning of this development, we were both super excited about the possibility of returning - despite my fear of snakes. With ANET finding a way to squeeze us in at last minute it was the best decision of our trip to cancel Vietnam, sort out new visas and book return flights to India - destination Wandoor, South Andaman!

The Green Chakra Collective is based in Bangalore and has over the past 6 years developed their skills and knowledge in working with natural building materials - bamboo and mud wall constructions in particular. Their work is driven as much by design and spatial vision as it is by a deep appreciation for the materials they work with. They are true craftspeople taking on an environmental and educational responsibility within a country that is suffocating in its concrete dominated architectural world. It is led by Jackson Porretta, an American designer/architect, living in Bangalore, who has brought together a team of local craftsmen and versatile designers and artists from Srishti School of Art and Design. They have a long-standing personal relationship with ANET but the TreeHAUS Project was to become their first collaboration - set up as a workshop bringing together architects, artists, designers and the odd micro-brewer for an intense 12 days of building.

John Saw, a native of the Andaman Islands belonging to the Karen tribe of Mayabunder, is Mr ANET and has been there since its inception. He is the most humble man with the deepest appreciation of the intracies and interactions of the fragile ecosystems surrounding the Andamans and which ANET works towards protecting. John has planted a lot of the trees around the base and the elegant Banyan tree overlooking the mangroves is one of his children. It was a great testimony to John's faith in ANET's future as well as in Jackson & his team's respect for the tree in developing the design and detailing for the tree house.

The workshop lasted for 12 days; however the project took 4 weeks to complete. I arrived after 1 week of construction as a workshop participant but stayed on until it was finished. It was an incredibly intense and fun three weeks sharing knowledge and learning heaps about local materials, traditional carpentry skills and mud wall construction. The design was led by Jackson who was the first to acknowledge that the tree is the primary designer, and then secondly ensured the workshop really was a collective exercise. From initial concept, through to detailing, roof construction, and finishes around approach and access, this was a shared experience - in design and build.

The tree house appears to float in the tree, the moveable joint barely touching the branches supporting it, the entrance further emphasising movement and lightness taking the user into the heart of the tree before climbing up an elegant stair into the tree house itself. Once inside, and with the hatch door closed, a large space has been carved out within the tree from which one gets views out to the mangroves whilst sitting in the canopy of the forest. Arnab Basu, a landscape artist, designed and co-ordinated a phenomenal mural embedded in the mud panels enclosing the space, the mural reflecting the four ecosystems around you. The hexagonal shape of the platform is emphasised in the roof construction where a floating ring beam frames the sky above and creates a beautiful volume in which to house ANET's Art Studio.

The building of the tree house brought an amazing energy to ANET through a great mix of people whom all became great friends. From the construction itself to the evenings spent together around the campfire, the ethos was teamwork - from focused precise timber detailing, to mud dancing, to lungi dancing, to learning about beer brewing techniques and to sampling the local rice beer, this was weeks of laughter and fun - another testimony to the warm, creative atmosphere existing at ANET. The tree house attracted a lot of attention during the four weeks and has now become the first destination when new visitors are taken on their 'reci' walks!

The project was brilliantly documented by Pooja Gupta, an Edinburgh College of Art Animation exchange student!, and can be viewed below.

http://vimeo.com/86684906

Art Residency Work at ANET

ruthandklas — Wed, 19 Feb 2014 21:48:00 GMT

Our reason for returning to the Andamans was to go back to ANET (The Andaman & Nicobar Islands Environmental Team) - a place that made a huge impression on us in December and where we'd shared experiences remaining with us long after we'd left (only 4 weeks earlier to be fair).

The ANET team is in the process of developing an Arts division, contributing to the multidisciplinary nature of the research centre and its rich learning environment and I was asked to spend the month helping to establish their Artist Residency programme as part of the wider Arts division.

Arts and Science commonly exist as separate disciplines and within the residency at ANET there is much potential for arts and science practitioners to explore the mutual platform existing between the two – an interactive and beneficial exchange for both disciplines, and the start of an exciting new relationship at ANET, one which I was looking forward to being a part of and contributing to.

As an artist working within a scientific environment, unique opportunities exist in terms of a fusion or exchange of ideas between the arts and science. Living and working alongside resident researchers and scientists not only provides a wealth of knowledge covering extensive topics, but also provides scope for a valuable interchange of thinking which in turn can be used to consider alternative perspectives, expand the artistic process and extend the possibilities for 'making' within the diverse environments.

Klas was going to be working with Jackson, an American designer/architect based in Bangalore, and his team to design and build the Tree House Art Studio set in a beautiful banyan tree overlooking the mangroves. We were both thrilled to have our own projects to get involved with and which meant so much to each of us personally.

Before leaving the UK we'd talked about spending a longer period of time in one place to have the experience of getting to know people in more depth and to contribute to a wider project. We hadn't wanted to plan anything before leaving home though - if this happened we wanted it to happen organically. The fact that this opportunity came about all because of a chance meeting with Smita on a random bus journey between Leh and Manali in September once again restored my faith in fate and reminded me of the beautiful Scottish saying 'What's for you won't go past you'.

After a few days we were back in the rhythm of life in the forest (this time in a tent in the mangroves), bathing in harvested rain water, adjusting to regular meal times, and remembering the necessity to walk carefully wherever we went to avoid stepping on snakes. There is truly something special about living life completely outdoors - I have never felt healthier or more energised.

Through discussions with the team I was invited to create a 'Visual Art Library', a resource that would be used and referred to by artists coming to stay at ANET. I was also asked to produce a number of supporting documents and to investigate how an Artist Residency programme could be incorporated operationally.

I set myself a month long project of producing drawings, paintings and prints to represent and interpret The Elements of Art (line, shape, form, texture, colour, space) and The Principles of Design (unity/harmony, dominance/emphasis, balance, hierarchy, scale/proportion) within the 4 ecosystems surrounding ANET - the coral reef, the tropical forest, the intertidal zone and the mangroves.

My mornings were often spent researching and writing in the beautiful timber library and in the afternoons I'd either venture downstairs onto the veranda overlooking the forest or wander off into the forest/mangroves to draw, paint or make prints. Having this amount of time to 'make' was just incredible. It reminded me of how important it is to find balance in my life between working therapeutically with clients and being involved in my own art practice.

Whilst at ANET Klas and I took every opportunity to dive in the nearby Mahatma Gandhi National Park and we both started our advanced dive courses. The intricacies of the coral reef formed further inspiration for some of the new art work once back at base. The knowledge of the dive team and the researchers was invaluable - I learnt so much.

My most treasured moments of the month were getting to know such an incredible group of dynamic and inspiring people. Despite the fact that Klas and I were “foreigners” coming to work at ANET for unique purposes, i.e. not scientific research, we never felt that we were considered as outsiders. From the moment we returned we were shown nothing but love, warmth and encouragement - part of the big family.

It took me a while to really put my finger on what it is about the team here that makes it different from other communities I've stayed with - what it comes down to is authenticity. There is a realness to the people and there's no bullshit or backstabbing. Everything is out there, all disputes are aired. I guess that within a communal setting negativity can very quickly infect the atmosphere and start to shake the foundations. The sense of positivity and determination to make things happen and get things done has made for a totally inspiring environment in which to work. It also made for some bloody good party nights tucked away deep in the forest wearing Amazonian style masks and lungi dancing on the dining table.

On our last evening I was invited to exhibit my artwork and spoke to the team about what I had been working on over the past month. It was a fantastic evening starting with some intellectual conversation and ending in twenty people dancing to Shakira! ;)

How could we ever leave this place! Discussions have already begun about future collaborations. I think this HAS to be to start of a lifelong relationship!

Photos: Art Residency Images

ruthandklas — Tue, 18 Feb 2014 00:11:00 GMT

To Be or not to Be back in the Andamans?

ruthandklas — Sat, 18 Jan 2014 21:11:00 GMT

The decision to change our travel plans and return to the Andamans was easy... getting there wasn't!

We returned to the Indian embassy in Bangkok after a nail biting week, waiting for our new Indian visas to be granted. Having risked a lot and spent a fair whack of un-refundable money to change our plans, we knew that realistically being refused entry back into India meant returning to the UK 3 months sooner than we wanted.

We had made a deal with each other that if our new visas were granted we'd celebrate with rooftop beers at our hotel, if not we'd get drunk in the nearest bar we could find. The deal was on.

At the embassy we hastily flicked through our passports to find a new visa - YES! but also a statement stamped over it exclaiming 'no entry to restricted areas' - the Andamans as a whole is restricted! We didn't know what to think, were we allowed back into India but not the Andamans?!

An official at the embassy flatly reassured us that we could go anywhere other tourists could go and that was the end of the very brief discussion. We left the embassy feeling confused and more importantly couldn't decide on whether it should be beers on the rooftop or drowning our sorrows in the nearest bar! We decided to stay optimistic and went for the rooftop, did some online research and our understanding was that 'no entry to restricted areas' is a standard stamp on all visas which we could ignore and in 2 days time would hopefully make it past immigration control at Port Blair airport.

When reaching Calcutta by 1am the following morning, the pilot announced the plane couldn't land due to fog and that we were to be re-routed to Hyderabad (the other end of India!). We then sat on the plane for 4 hours at Hyderabad airport, were fed stale sandwiches with ketchup and watched as wound-up Indians tried to persuade the pilot to get flying again.

Once we arrived to Calcutta (8 hours delayed) we'd missed our connecting flight to Port Blair. After a number of heated conversations and using our best means of persuasion with two airlines, the reality seemed to be that we would need to buy new tickets to the Andamans. It was at this point that I wondered if the universe was trying to tell us something, maybe we were never meant to go back?!

We then realised that the last flight of the day for Port Blair was leaving in 20 minutes. We didn't fancy venturing into Calcutta for the night so in that 20 minutes we purchased tickets, checked in luggage, made it through security and with the help of enthusiastic airport staff (who were convinced we were Italians?!) were accompanied/sprinted across the airport to catch the flight - we'd bagged the last 2 seats of the day and waved to each other in disbelief from opposite ends of the plane - phew!! Our obsession with the Andamans had just reached a new level!

Photos: Thailand

ruthandklas — Fri, 17 Jan 2014 23:33:00 GMT

Five of a Kind

ruthandklas — Fri, 17 Jan 2014 20:38:00 GMT

Have you ever played Yatzy? It's a game of life and death (only kidding) involving five die where you have three goes to roll 15 poker like sequences - one pair, two pair, three of a kind, full house, etc. You also have to roll 3 of a kind of 1's through to 6's, which when added up gives you a score of 63 and a bonus of 50 points if you make it. The ultimate roll is five of a kind or Yatzy giving you a sweet 50 points and sending you on your way towards victory. There are two types of players; the lucky and the unlucky, and the luck most certainly depends on whether you're Swedish or English (or a complex combination of both), or perhaps on the number of Changs consumed, this is yet unknown.

We had to leave India at last, visas were running out and we had visitors (read Yatzy competitors) coming to see us. The Andaman Islands are about 250km off the Burmese coast, i.e. very close to Thailand. Still we had to travel 355 degrees of a circle, on four flights over 3 days, via Chennai, Delhi and Bangkok to finally arrive in Phuket. The Andamans really did seem remote then, so when Jude arrived from Birmingham, via Dubai and Kuala Lumpur, with mask and snorkel at the ready we all felt equally jet-lagged.

Phuket Town seems to be disliked by visitors (probably because it doesn't have a beach), but it is as brilliantly understated and genuine as I remember it when I came to Thailand in 2002 as a wide-eyed 19 year old out to see the world. We slept off our tiredness after having enjoyed great food and cheap Chang (in preparation for the Yatzy tournament), before jumping on an overpriced speed-boat to Koh Mook where we spent the first days fine-tuning the Yatzy rolling techniques whilst awaiting the arrival of Joachim and Marie-Claire. This generally involved resting in the hammock outside our exceptionally fancy bamboo hut, kayaking around the huge limestone cliffs shooting up from the emerald sea and building on the tan (well, Jude was trying to catch up). Obviously we also consumed Chang, particularly whilst watching the sunset, and we also celebrated Christmas, Thai-style, eating BBQ fish and wearing silly hats.

The fabulous five was complete on Boxing Day when J&MC rolled in, and the tournament was about to begin. Joachim had to lay down the rules, which he did with exeptional enthusiasm, before we could engage in Yatzy battle. In between games Chast (aka, Cheese, Chief or Chis), our bamboo hut host, took us out to some spectactular Trang province snorkelling sites as well as to the famous Emerald Cave - an amazing lagoon that you reach by swimming through an 80m dark tunnel, which allegedly used to be a pirate hide-away. The snorkelling was some of the best I've ever done (no need for Scuba) and we saw a huge puffer-fish and swam in and out of carved-out caves.

Jude got off to a flying Yatzy start but her form was hampered by an eye-infection which consequently meant she couldn't drink Chang and steadily Joachim began catching up. By the time we reached Koh Lanta, most of us, apart from Marie-Claire, were playing rather well, but then MC prefers a Mai Tai. On Koh Lanta we celebrated a magical New Year's eve on the beach with cocktails and fire lanterns after an equally magical dinner at the Red Snapper - one of these incredible Asian fusion restaurants, i.e. Thai food with a great twist (great find Jude, and a very generous treat J&MC!).

It was incredibly difficult to do the usual thing and find somewhere to stay as you arrive, and on Koh Lanta we ended up in separate places with Jude, Ruth and I sharing a bed. Still, the beaches were empty and the bars too. The complete opposite was true for Railay beach and Ton Sai were we headed to with sore heads on New Year's day. This was my favourite spot in 2002, I remember sitting on the beach more or less alone, and there being 2/3 resorts on Ton Sai, but now this incredibly beautiful place has been over-run by noisy longtail boats and too many people. Adding to the experience we all got the Ton Sai Nora bug, except Ruth who seems to have an iron-lined stomach.

Still, we lazed the days away by the pool, or ring-fenced a spot on the beach, where we concluded the Yatzy tournament which Joachim elegantly won after rolling enough Yatzies to last a lifetime (we all agree that his Chang diet might lead to future doping-suspension). On the last day, J&MC set off for a luxury last few days in Phuket, Ruth and Jude went for a jungle hike where Jude got jumped by a monkey who stole her Snicker and left a nasty scratch on her back (rabies check in the UK), whilst I went climbing on the famous Ton Sai limestone cliffs with Sash, a friend from Ben Nevis who lives in Bristol. Before we knew it, it was just the two of us again, sad to see our fantastic five broken up, but very happy to have had just over two great weeks of seeing familiar faces and catching up with life at home.

As I write this Ruth and I are sat pool-side on a roof-top in Bangkok awaiting our flights back to India (this backpacking thing is hard). We are going back to the Andaman Islands and to ANET to take part in a tree-house building project and help set up an artist in residence programme. We rushed back to Bangkok after Ton Sai, fought our way through the infuriating Indian bureaucracy to finally gain a new visa. The week long wait for it has been spent exploring futuristic Bangkok and cooling off in chilled out Pai in the north, whilst reflecting on the different experiences we have had.

Thailand is an anomaly, a superstar country compared to India with it's clean streets and efficient infrastructure, with sexy shopping malls and futurama people, soaring skyscrapers and chic designer hilltowns. It is unfair to compare yet hard not to - Bangkok is what Delhi seems to aspire to, the south-western beaches share the same sea as our beloved Andaman Islands, yet they seem a world apart, the northern hill town of Pai is reminiscent of a traveller-friendly Leh, only on a smaller scale. Thailand has been an odd break on our travels, a sort of holiday from travelling. It's a country strangely close to home (let's face it, we're not the only westerners here), and we have realised just how much India requires from you in order to get under your skin.

Which is exactly what it has done. Thailand is easy, it's fun, the food is great and everywhere is clean yet the overwhelming feeling is that it is not challenging enough. India on the other hand is intoxicating, and we like how our preconceptions are constantly questioned, so we're going back to the dirt, and to those empty (and I mean empty), pearl white beaches!

Notes: Goodbye India, Hello South-East Asia

ruthandklas — Fri, 20 Dec 2013 19:49:00 GMT

We flew into Delhi, jumped on a flight to Ladakh, the northernmost state in India up in the Himalayas, then travelled, generally in a southern direction, by bus, train, rickshaw, taxi, foot and boat, until we reached the southern shores of this vast country. It has taken us more or less four months, through amazing mountain scenery to white sandy beaches, from floating villages to dusty cities, and we wouldn't leave if it wasn't for the fact that our visa is running out. India - we have loved you and hated you, you have infuriated and inspired, your passion for life is contagious and as we leave, for now, you have given us memories that will define us for years to come.

How to summarise these experiences? Maybe a book one day, but for now, here's our best and worst, up and down, top and bottom, lists, roughly in chronological order...

Best moments:

- Seeing the Taj Mahal (yes, it truly is amazing, almost ethereal!!)

- Paragliding in Manali

- The Yoga & Meditation Program at Phool Chatti Ashram

- Crossing the Thorung La on the Annapurna Trek (the light up there, and the relief)

- Sunset beers in Goa

- Losing and finding ourselves in the backwaters of Kerala

- Living in the jungle at ANET, North Wandoor and diving in the Andaman sea

- Feeling free as a bird on Beach no. 1, on Neil Island

Worst moments (guess which happened to who):

- Being soaked by a bucket of brown curry water in Delhi (thrown from a height)

- The grubby hospital admission in Leh

- Staying the night in Kasol in a damp cigarette stenched bed (with a rave going on downstairs!)

- Staring down the stained toilet at Emerald Heights Hotel, Pinjore (for 3 days!)

- Forgetting the PIN no. to Debit card

- Attacked by wild dogs in Nepal

- Peeing in public with nothing to hide behind

- Snowed in and stranded in freezing Yak Kharka

- Riding a rat infested train to Jabalpur

- Watching in disbelief as a pair of stow away knickers fall out the bottom of trousers whilst trying on dive equipment (Klas's story...)

- Meeting creepy people on Neil Island (Luigi you smarmy bastard!)

Top Journeys:

- Flying into Leh over the Himalayas

- Leh to Manali bus trip

- The Shimla toy train (and being able to hang out the doorway - thank you India for overlooking health & safety everytime! How refreshing!)

- The Annapurna Trek (obviously it's well up there!)

- Boatride down the Ganges in Varanasi

- Jeep Safaris in Kanha National Park (damn you elusive stripey cats - we'll get you next time, gadget!)

- Canoeing down the Keralan backwaters

- Rickshaw riding everywhere (although Krishna on Neil Island was our favourite)

Top travel tips:

- Bring sporks for all that yummy street food (and hand-gel)

- Don't drink bottled water, buy a filter-bottle, ours was from aquapure

- When trekking, bring a tube of Pringles (don't eat them all at once or you'll have stomach cramps), when finished, the tube makes a perfect bin for carrying your waste out!

- Don't bring a she-wee, it doesn't work

- Get side berths on trains for a degree of privacy

- If getting hassled gets too hassly - speak Swedish (you all know what the Swedish chef sounds like)

Top places to stay:

- The Manor - Delhi

- Apple View Guest House - Old Manali

- Hotel Global Inn - Pokhara, Nepal

- Hotel Himalayan - Upper Pisang, Nepal

- The Courtyard House - Kanha National Park

- Kannur Ayurvedic Hospital, Kalpetta

- Greenpalm Homes - Chennamkary, near Alleppey

- ANET research centre - North Wandoor

Top Encounters:

- Rafting down the Zanskar river with Sam, Rohith and Hari

- Meeting Smita on Leh-Manali bus

- Meeting the one-rupee man in Swarg Ashram (and buying him a pink umbrella)

- Munna at Phool Chatti Ashram who made us smile SO much

- Spending the night in Bahundanda at Dinesh's guest house

- Everyone on the Annapurna trek, Arnie gets a special mention (mainly for his Dutch oven joke)

- Hanging out with Brett and Vanessa on the train to Jabalpur (chatting non-stop for 12 hours)

- Dada at the Silk Factory in Varanasi

- Ude, our tiger spotting, and intellectually opinionated, guide in Kanha National Park

- Lazing the days away at Riverside in Goa with Dom, Bart and Rolf

- Spending the day with Marie and Antso, and David, in Wayanad

- Anne and her family in the backwaters of Kerala

- Getting to know everyone at ANET in North Wandoor

Best reads:

- Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts

- The Book Thief by Mark Zusak

- The White Tiger by Aravind Adiga

- Annapurna by Maurice Herzog

- Archetypal Chakras by Arnold Bittinger

- The tree of Yoga by B K S Iyengar

- India; a portrait by Patrick French

- Love and Longing in Bombay by Vikram Chandra

Best food moments:

- Tasting menu at Indian Accent in Delhi

- Fresh grilled trout in Old Manali

- Pane Puri, street stall in Shimla

- Evening Thali at Phool Chatti Ashram

- Homemade lasagne and chocolate cake at the Himalayan Lodge, Bragha, Nepal

- Street Masala Dosa in Varanasi

- Prawn Masala at Dunes in Goa

- Prawn Kati Roll at Dal Roti, Fort Cochin

- Grilled prawns from fish market, Fort Cochin (yes, we like our prawns!)

- Anne's homecooking at Greenpalm Homes

Best beverage moments:

- Indian Accent Cocktails

- Ginger, lemon, honey tea in Leh

- Lassi in Varanasi, at the Blue Lassi near Manikarnika Ghat

- Celebration beer in Muktinath after crossing the 5400m Thorung La

- Masala Chai on the trains

- Mango Juice in Goa (well the beers were pretty tasty too)

Most bizzarre moments:

- Taxi driver screaming to a halt, jumping out of the car, and getting a boy with a stick to come and scare off a hitching lizard that had appeared on the dash board

- Being offered hashish by an 80 year old man in Manali

- Seeing a legless man on skateboard hitching an auto-ride by hanging onto the back of the rickshaw

- Klas stuck on the roof of the bus tying the luggage down when bus sets off

- Girl (about 15) at Nek Chand in Chandigarh being completely star struck by Ruth and following her around for an hour saying 'I love you'

- Neti pot (nose) cleansing at yoga ashram

- Getting stuck in a teenage booze and drug fuelled party in the Nepali mountains (randomly everything ended abruptly at 8pm!)

- Having Lassi in Varanasi whilst funeral processions carrying the deceased march past

- Old lady speaking Hindi at us for the entireity of a 14 hour train journey to Mumbai (hoping that we may eventually understand her?!)

- Ayurvedic massages, the one in Kalpetta being a master-class in how to grease up a chicken. - Being scouted for a Bollywood film in Fort Cochin

- Petrified of stepping on a Pit Viper snake on the way to the toilet block at ANET

Photos: Andaman Islands

ruthandklas — Thu, 19 Dec 2013 17:05:00 GMT

Here be Dragons!

ruthandklas — Wed, 18 Dec 2013 19:34:00 GMT

Back in September, on the spine-jangling journey between Leh and Manali, we met Smita - an architect with an inspiring story of leaving life in Bangalore behind to work on the Andaman and Nicobar Islands; a place she felt she belonged. This remote collection of islands is still part of India but is actually closer geographically to Burma and Thailand and they never featured on our travel itinerary until Smita spoke so passionately about them. Knowing that Smita's invitation to visit was one of those rare opportunities that only comes around once, we booked our tickets.

On ancient maps of India the Andaman and Nicobars are depicted with skull and crossbones with the annotation - 'here be dragons'. Indigenous tribes still live here today, some of whom have never had contact with the outside world. Allegedly some live cannabalistic lives and apparently believe that everything sighted outside of their islands belong to the spirit world - we couldn't wait to experience these distant and mystical shores.

We arrived early in the morning to the ANET base (the Andaman & Nicobar Islands Environmental Team), Smita's home and work. ANET also functions as a Centre for Herpetology (snakes) and the Madras Crocodile Bank Trust. We were greeted by smiley Smita and shown to our jungle hut. Within an hour of arriving we were asked for our blood groups - discovering that in the jungle/forest where we were to spend the next 8 days, shared with venomous snakes, monitor lizards, spiders and many mosquitos, this was essential knowledge. For the first time I was glad we were taking the anti-malarial meds but slightly concerned neither or us knew our blood group! Klas was about to face his fears and get up close and personal with the slithery forest natives; on our first day alone we sighted 3 snakes between the kitchen and our hut, including the highly venomous Andaman Pit Viper, which Hari the snake researcher/charmer captured to collect data.

Many of the researchers/marine biologists living at ANET need to dive to carry out their work and Lacadives dive centre is attached to the base which is handy for everyone as the reef in only 5 minutes away. So I decided to face a fear of my own and learn to dive again following a failed attempt 12 years ago in New Zealand which made our experience in the jungle even more surreal. One minute we were doing our best to avoid snakes and the next I was hiding under the mozzy net, watching the acrobatic action of a foot-long stick insect on the ceiling, whilst studying dive videos set in the Californian 80's!

I had the most fantastic, experienced dive instructor - Umeed, whose passion for the intricacies of the marine life combined with underwater photography made him a brilliant teacher. Umeed made it possible for a very nervous me to remain calm enough underwater at 16 metres to remove and replace my mask and eventually pass the course to qualify as a certified diver, along with my fabby dive buddy Diya - hooray! The underwater world is incredible and we were very lucky to spot a grandaddy green turtle gliding, gracefully, past us on our final dive. We also spotted crocodile fish, lion fish, huge blue star fishes, brain coral, clown fish (Nemo) playing in the anemone and the very rare leaf ghost pipefish (my favourite)! I felt totally inspired, particularly when Umeed told me you can get underwater sketchbooks!

When we weren't diving we were in the open-air communal dining area eating or getting to know the researchers at the base and learning heaps about insectivile bats, toxic cone snails, snakes and the mangroves with it's unique eco-system, as well as discussing India's issues in more detail and learning about some of the projects they work on (such as getting the council to get a proper waste management strategy in place). Rauf, one of the originals at ANET who had had Malaria 39 times!, was a true character and academic entertainer who spent half his time at ANET and half living in a large, creative commune called Auroville on the mainland. When we suggested that he lived an amazing life, he smiled and exclaimed: 'It's fucked up'.

On our last night, 14 of us piled into the jungle jeep and went to 'Sanctuary' - the local bar, serving only 8% beer or whiskey; we certainly had a good send off. Leaving the next day for Neil Island (also in the Andamans) I felt what can only be described as homesickness. We had become part of the life at ANET for a short time, having got to know an incredibly friendly and intriguing bunch of people and learnt so much during an intense week; in a strange kind of way it reminded me of what I felt in the summer when leaving Edinburgh. We would love to be involved at ANET in the future if that was ever possible; the plan to build a tree house art studio and provide opportunities for resident artists seem particularly exciting!

The empty, nauseous feeling wouldn't budge even after arriving on tiny Neil Island; I guess it didn't help meeting the only other tourist - a creepy Englishman with piercing dead eyes, and the owner of the huts - a man who looked like he might murder us in the night and put our heads on spikes! After convincing myself they were both psychopathic serial killers we moved to a different part of the island. Here be dragons indeed!

That said, Neil Island is as close to paradise as we've ever been. Days were spent settling in to the exceptional slow pace of life, cycling around the island, being lazy on the pristine white sandy beaches, snorkelling and dozing off in the hammock. We wish we could have bottled even a smidgen of this blissful place to save for a rainy day - instead it looks like we might just have to return.

Photos: Kerala Backwaters

ruthandklas — Mon, 2 Dec 2013 09:04:00 GMT

Reflections in the Backwaters

ruthandklas — Mon, 2 Dec 2013 01:05:00 GMT

Deep in the heart of the Keralan backwaters is the traditional village of Chennamkary, and the warm home of Anne, Matthew, Thomas, Maria and Philip, the beautiful family with whom we would spend 4 serene days. It's hard to find the right words to describe our time here as something quite special took place - it was as if time completely melted away from us.

A few days earlier in Fort Cochin, before we reached the backwaters, we visited 'Idiom', a dusty, well stocked bookshop recommended by Edinburgh David. I became well and truly part of the furniture in the yoga and ayurveda section at the back of the shop whereas Klas found himself inspired to read more about India's ever changing portrait. Needless to say we left the shop with additional weight for our poor, already overloaded backpacks.

The days sitting on Anne's wicker clad porch, overlooking the backwaters and palm groves, watching the rice boats drift past, made for phenomenal reading sessions. The books I chose to read spoke powerfully to me about re-connecting with self. I realised that over the past 5/6 years, work, study and life itself had got the better of me - quite literally! - leaving little vital energy for myself. I love the work I do and to socialise with the people I care about, but I was now reflecting on the time I gave myself.

One of the reasons why travel is important to me is to allow time to find that energy again. I'd hoped that on our journey I'd experience true perspective and opportunities to reflect on the last decade of my life - and perhaps acquire some wisdom for the next! I'd even started getting a little impatient - these moments of 'epiphany' hadn't yet happened - I was wondering if I was doing this travelling thing wrong somehow. Instead I discovered, on my 'un-epiphany-ed' travelling path, that it wasn't about 'finding' anything at all, but all about the right time and the right place, 3 and a bit months in (and with the help of a good bookshop).

An an art psychotherapist working in the West I'm familiar with discussing the importance of the connection between the body and the mind, something that is often neglected socially and culturally. Problems which manifest themselves physically can provide us with important clues about what is happening for us psychologically. In addressing the psychological the physical difficulties can therefore also be addressed. During our relatively short time travelling in India I've been really struck by India's interpretation of the body/mind connection. It's more than a philosophy here, it's part of everyday life, it's inherent to the culture.

Yoga (in it's widest sense), Meditation, Ayurveda (the traditional Indian medical science) and the way in which religions are practised in this country recognise that when our body, mind and spirit are in balance/in harmony with one another we feel pretty damn good overall. Within religious practice here it seems not solely about the worship of an external God but about connecting with the divine which is reflected in the self. Namaste.

Some spectacular efforts are made to create environments conducive for this very purpose, some of which we've fortunately been a part of. Spiritual India is slowly beginning to make sense, just in time for our date of departure.

As well as reading, our idyllic little spot on the Keralan backwaters provided us with oodles of time to get to know a lovely family, experience the beautiful village life of the region, practice yoga, sample some of the best Indian home cooking to date, learn about the many uses of the coconut (including the worst alcoholic beverage - Coconut Toddy! YUK!) and most useful of all - perfect our mozzy slaying skills (I also discovered that frogs squeak! Something that happened when I scooped up Mr. Frog from our bedroom floor). If we had any dosh, and the spare time, we'd buy a humble plot of land and return to the backwaters as often as physically possible. I'm not sure anywhere else has ever made such an impression (well maybe Barcelona :).

Photos: Wayanad & Fort Cochin

ruthandklas — Sat, 30 Nov 2013 23:52:00 GMT

Expect the Unexpected

ruthandklas — Sat, 30 Nov 2013 19:47:00 GMT

This has, in fairness, become our ethos as every day throws in something unexpected. Our favourite read so far is "Shantaram", and one of Roberts', alias Linbaba's, best advice is that in order to win in India you must first surrender. We now surrender all the time and we are all the richer for it. The following four stories, happening over five days, is of our recent surrenders, and of conversations lost in translation and beautiful people.

. . .

At just before eight in the morning the bus, complete with LED disco lights and louder than average Hindi songs, dropped us off in Kalpetta in the hilly Wayanad area of Kerala. Slightly bewildered we sank onto the roadside contemplating what to do; at first appearances this wasn't the lush mountain retreat we had expected. Having just come from our secluded Goan beach colony, travelling overnight with that annoyingly familiar feeling of the uncomfortably churning stomach (shouldn't have braved the vanilla ice-cream), we were running out of energy and lacking in pro-action. We took a stab at a random suggestion from the increasingly less reliable guide book and jumped in an auto.

Behind a scruffy old sign announcing the location of the "Kannur Ayurvedic Centre and Hospital", we were warmly welcomed by a serene and immaculate courtyard house and our apprehensions about staying in a hospital faded. The room was a bargain, the staff exceptionally kind and the range of massage treatments promising; we both signed up for the afternoon.

Ayurveda is an ancient form of holistic medicine that combines herbal cleansing treatments, yoga and meditation to address physical ailments. A massage is really more of a work out so I had asked for a more relaxing session instead whilst Ruth wanted to try out the meditative oil treatment where a bowl of warm herbal oil is slowly dripping onto your forehead and into your hair. As I entered the treatment room, similar in design to a sterile Victorian hospital, it quickly became clear that our requests had been lost in translation.

When instructed, I surrendered, I stripped and put on the paper-thong, I positioned myself on the hard plastic bed and allowed the two men to get to work. An hour later whilst sat in the steam-box, a sort of medieval looking torture chamber, with my head sticking out, I felt remarkably like an oiled-up Christmas turkey being steam-cooked, only thing they had missed out during the treatment was a sprig of rosemary. Having wiped the oil off me, thinking that was the end of it, I was again instructed to lie down and before I knew it, spiced warm oil was dripping on my head. I dozed off meditatively. I had been kneaded, bent and broken, steamed and cleansed, and I felt amazing. The churning stomach had disappeared and the sore back lingering since Nepal was gone.

. . .

Thinking we had to be only ones seeking out this random Ayurvedic Hospital, I opened the balcony door to be greeted by two of the warmest smiles we have received to date. Our neighbours, Antso and Marie, from southern France, were like childhood friends we hadn't seen in years. Together with David, our new friend from Edinburgh, we toured the hilly and cool tea, coffee, pepper, cinnamon, coconut and fruit plantations, we went on wild elephant and tiger safari (again the stripy cats remain elusive), we visited an ancient Jain temple and caves with pre-historic art work, our open-top jeep guide took us to see rumbling waterfalls and crazy rock formations and then served us a delicious Keralan lunch, David shared what was to become expert advice for further south and made us miss home, and when we left them only two days later with tears of goodbye, and laughters about desperate fights with lids to tin boxes containing our dinner, it was with a promise to ensure our paths cross again.

. . .

Fort Cochin is one of these places where you immediately feel you could live; like El Borne in Barcelona or the old Medina in Marrakesh. It smells of salt and freshly caught fish. The narrow lanes and brightly coloured houses are reminiscent of Lisbon. Small cafes, galleries and bookshops attract laid back and cool young creative Indians. A refreshing breeze runs through the lanes from the nearby Keralan backwaters. Hip restaurants serve up fusion food, and the pace is relaxed, it's chilled out.

Whilst enjoying yet another of the many tastefully designed cafes, this one with large timber plank flooring, exposed timber trusses, shuttered bay windows with seats below, yellow washed plaster walls elegantly decorated with the work of a talented photographer, and 1950's furniture, we were approached by a man with an air of excitement and anxiety, and with an offer too tempting to miss. He was scouting foreigners for Bollywood.

It was urgent he said, we would get paid he said, and a good lunch also, but we had to come now! The car was waiting. Before I'd had time to finish my fresh lime soda, we arrived on set, Ruth was off to get changed - she looked too Indian! - and we received our instructions as hip and busy young people around us fine-tuned the details.

And Action!! We were starring in a romantic comedy, walking carelessly down the street just behind the star attraction, the beautiful woman whom the man on his motorbike drove up to in style whilst we bought flowers from a local stall. An argument broke out and he drove off into the distance with his priced bride. And Cut!!

We returned to our cafe and finished the lime soda. "Seven Good Nights" will be screening in December 2014, check it out.

. . .

No man in India, except the Saddhus and the Sikhs, wear their hair long, but then they never cut it. Women never cut their hair either and often you see the most amazing thick plaits reaching down their waists. There is always an entrepreneur for everything here, in fact, if there is a demand then the supply will far outbalance any normal situation around the world which is why prices are often so low in this over-populated country. But I was concerned about my hair; it was getting too long, puffing out like Mickey Mouse ears around the sides, and I doubted there actually was a hair-dresser who would be able to cut it the way I prefer, considering the lack of demand for this skill.

I hedged my bets on Cochin, as an Indian hipster community I was more likely to find one here than where we were planning to go later. I found one, he actually had long hair, or rather more of an 80's mullet style, and he seemed my best option. I showed him a photo from Delhi saying "I want it to look like this, bhai (brother), from 3 months ago", to emphasise I measured with my thumb and index finger, "about an inch off please". He smiled and wiggled his head like all South Indians do. This is the most brilliant body language invented, it often means "Yes", although it sometimes is reserved for a "Maybe", or "I don't know". When paired with a smile though, it always means "Yes"! My hair dresser would do a fine job.

The first hair fell, it was about 3 inches long, and before I could stop him my new hair style was either going to be short, or I could stop him mid-way accepting that bizarre, Goan, hippie-look, where you leave one side of your head long and the other short. His head-wiggle had clearly meant "Yes, one inch long, I understand". I accepted that my hair was going to have be shorter than it has been in about seven years.

Notes: Indian Driving Lessons

ruthandklas — Fri, 29 Nov 2013 17:15:00 GMT

When arriving into Delhi we were picked up by a pre-arranged taxi, an air-conditioned bubble, a cocoon, or what Balram, Aravind Ariga's main character in "The White Tiger", calls the wealthy man's egg. Through the egg's darkened windows our first sights of India were experienced. As the driver navigated the noisy, monsoon saturated, mayhem of wallahs, rickshaws, beggars, buses, lorries and other sealed and air-conditioned eggs he spotted the familiar wide-eyed stare in his rear view mirror; the newly arrived foreigner. With a big smile he proclaimed that:

"In India, you need three things for good driving. Good horn, good brake, good luck".

Two weeks into the trip when braving the 2 day Leh-Manali road, infamous for the high-altitude passes and hairpin bends making it the road of choice for "Ice Road Truckers-India", our speedy bus driver excersised all three of these basic Indian road rules outlined by our Delhi driver. The horn was certainly in excellent condition, the breaks were squeeky but seemed good enough, whilst his choice of deity was looking after our lucky selves. In case the gods weren't paying attention, the local government had sensibly put up regular reminders along the way cautioning any erratic drivers with comical messages. These are a colourful contrast to the direct and dreary digitalised signs of the British Islands and favourites included:

"Alert today, alive tomorrow"

"This is not a race or rally, it is a beautiful Valley"

"Speed thrills, but kills"

"Mountains are a pleasure, if you drive with leisure"

"Normal speed, meets every need"

"Be gentle on my curves"

And the winner, which ought to be adopted in our kilt-clad homeland:

"Drinking whiskey, driving risky"

As with most things in life, once an accepted system has been understood, it seems like the most natural thing; applying Western skills of driving in India is likely to be as successful as speaking Swedish to Indians. Our beloved guide book, for example, simply states;

"DRIVING - don't do it"

Although we have feared for our lives on several occasions when in motorised transport the system of driving has begun to transpire (it was put to a test in Goa, read Ruth's account of this and judge our success for yourself). Luck is being looked after by divine intervention and brakes are a mere technical problem of service and maintainence. The real trick to driving in India is to decipher its language; the pattern of honking, horning and flashing, and how this links to taking a turn against the traffic. From observation it is, in theory, straightforward:

1 short horn - I want to overtake/I'm turning

2 shorts horns - I am overtaking (the overtaken car usually responds with 2 horns and/or a flash)

1 long horn - get out of my way, I already honked once

1 extended really long horn - I'm getting frustrated here, get the HECK out of my way

Car flashing - making any oncoming traffic aware that I'm around (at night)

Several shorter horns - I can't see what's around the next bend, so letting you know (if you're there), that I'm coming

1 long + 3 short horns - hello to roadside friends

Lorries/buses flashing each other - stop in the middle of the road for a chat

Symphony of all of the above - time to practice your Hindi swearwords, you're stuck in a jam

Once you speak the same language you simply follow another of Balram's observations; you are supposed to drive on the left in India, but no one thinks of this rule as an absolute!