I'm not in Kansas anymore...

The captivating sunsets of Goa Now where did I leave you....ah yes. I was enjoying myself rather too much in Arambol, one of Goa's northern beaches, having met a dashing tabla player and fallen in with a few locals, from whom I was enjoying learning Bollywood songs, Hindu mantras and the occasional bit of sithar. I was being conveyed about the tropical conutryside on the back of a scooter, with the wind in my hair. I was enjoying talking to hippies. I was doing yoga. I'll admit it - I got comfortable. I had uncertainty around whether or not I could go to the Ashram out of season (uncertainty I still have as I type in Trivandrum, after a 2 day journey en route there, but more on that later). I wanted to get to know Goa and it made sense to me to stay, as my lovely friend Liz Cirelly (also travelling, also blogging, check her out here: http:// limitlessliz.blogspot.com/ ) was passing through Goa whilst doing some DJ gigs. So I stayed. And I'm glad that I stayed as it all...

1.) Speaking English in an Indian accent really works if you want people to be able to understand what you are saying . I appreciate that it can feel strange at first (or even slightly racist like you are channelling The Kumars at No. 42) but it honestly has the desired effect. Just try it 2.) The infamous and occasionally infuriating, but also infectious Indian 'head bob' (a kind of figure of eight movement made from side to side) can mean either "yes" or "no" - you must clarify "haa yaaa na" ("yes or no") to get the answer you need 3.) Everything is negotiable - even food in a restaurant can be brought down in price if you haggle hard enough 4.) Train ticket bookings are not straightforward - if you have a 'waitlisted' ticket it does not mean that it is confirmed.  I recommend that you book in advance with a trusted travel agent who can help you to navigate the complex class system. Basically - sleeper AC for long jou...

I had my first experience of the Indian misconception of 'personal space' on the plane from Heathrow to Mumbai when, upon getting settled in my seat, an elderly Indian gent (slightly the worse for wear) decided to use my head and shoulders as a resting point for each of his many suitcases as he attempted to pack them into the overhead luggage. The theme continued in Goa when a jewellery seller was constantly trying to stroke my belly as I lay sunbathing, on another occasion a group of very young kids outside a temple excitedly ran over to try to grab my 'boobies' when we went to say hello to them - and the list goes on. This endearing (if not a little weird) cultural tendency is just one of the many things that I have become accustomed to in the last 7 days. The children liked my 'boobies' - "or were they just hungry?"  asked my new friend Jannick! I didn't look out of the aeroplane window until we were close to touching down ...

Bombs exploded in London the day I was due to arrive. A dreary Thursday saw four suicide bombers board three tube trains and one bus, each heading in the direction of a compass orientation. I hardly need tell you what followed - a symbolic dissection and literal crucifixion that left 52 dead, many more wounded and a hitherto seemingly indestructible city, reeling. For the first time in known history, London was closed. The following day I moved to a new city with a boy that I loved, fresh from our adventures in Sydney. But here, we were surrounded by chaos and noise, barely protected by the skinny walls of our “young professionals” apartment that resembled all the other characterless blocks around it. The pressures of living in a part of the city that was still rife with racial tension, trapped in a shoe box and without the beautiful backdrop of the Antiopodes soon started to take their toll. Alongside this, our desires were rapidly diverging.  Unsurprisingly, we pa...