Life began at sixty-five. After a long, tumultuous relationship, I finally married the love of my life on my parents seventy-first wedding anniversary in 2015. Knowing that we were unlikely to share many decades together, we decided to pack in as many adventures and experiences. We share a passion for diverse cultures, cuisines, architecture, history, art and the glories of nature. What better way to indulge all these pleasures than to dedicate ourselves to travel.
The nine and a half flight from Melbourne to Hong Kong was certainly made much easier because of our frequent flyer business class tickets. With a six hour layover in Hong Kong, we decided to take a quick trip into town. We watched the locals enjoying a live band in a public area, admired some local sculptures, did a spot of window shopping and then it was back to the airport for our early morning flight.
MONDAY, 7th AUGUST, 2017 – ROME
We had coordinated with Kerry so that her flight from Sydney arrived just half an hour after ours at Rome’s Fiumicino airport. Kerry had booked a BnB very close to our own Airbnb accommodation at Via Ruggero Bonghi, 38 so we shared a taxi and agreed to meet up later in the afternoon.
We were delighted with our lovely rooftop apartment and the huge balcony with views overlooking the Colosseum.
This is the spectacular view that we enjoyed from our balcony at nightDay view of the colosseum from our balcony
The place where Kerry stayed was gated and so when we went to visit her in the afternoon we had to stand outside and shout until she finally heard us. We went for a lovely walk across a park at the bottom of our street to get a close up view of the Colosseum. It was forty two degrees and Kerry was feeling exhausted and a bit heat affected, so she decided to go back to her place and have a bit of a rest until we met up for dinner. She was only staying about 300 meters from our place and Barry gave her careful instructions on how to get back and also how to get to the nearby restaurant. At the allotted time we went to her house and shouted and shouted but got no reply. So we went to the restaurant hoping to see her there, but she didn’t show up. After dinner we went back to her place but our persistent shouting had no response. I started to get seriously worried and finally sent a message to her daughter, Ria, saying that her mother was lost in Rome.
8th AUGUST, 2017 – ROME
The next morning I had a distressed call from Kerry. The poor thing had been staggering around in circles, hopelessly disoriented and completely lost and overheated for what seemed like hours. She kept asking taxi drivers to take her to her address but they couldn’t understand her and thought she wanted to go to the train station. In desperation and fearing that she might faint with heat, she ended up lying down in the park with other ‘homeless’ people. She had wanted me to come and collect her from the hotel where she had eventually checked into. She had to go out into the street to find the name and address of the place. I can only imagine the frustration and fear that she must have endured!
That same day Barry and I had booked a guided motor scooter tour of the environs and introduction to the Colosseum. Barry went off to collect the scooter and discovered that the only ‘guided’ part of the tour was at the actual Colosseum which was our rendezvous point. Rome’s roads are peppered with one way streets which are not clearly defined on a street map. We could see where we wanted to go but couldn’t find a way of getting there. In the end we found ourselves going down a one way street and it was only as a large Mercedes appeared in front of us that we realised that we were going in the wrong direction. Barry found himself pinned under the Vespa with the melting tar on the road burning the flesh of his arm. I pulled the scooter off him and it wasn’t until later in the day that I realised that I had sustained a broken toe. So much for our ‘Roman Holiday’ Vespa adventure!
9th AUGUST, 2017
We spent the day doing the ‘hop on hop off’ bus experience of Rome spending time st the Roman forums, the Pantheon, the Vittoriano (the typewriter) and a host of other famous landmarks.
The VittorianoAnother great view of ‘the Typewriter’The Panthenon
10th AUGUST, 2017 – SORRENTO, ITALY
We stayed at the lovely GRAND HOTEL de la VILLE on Via Rota 15, SORRENTO
Later in the evening we took a taxi to my favourite restaurant in Sorrento. It was down the bottom of the hill in a lovely little fishing village and the food was every bit as good as I remembered it from my previous visit. Perhaps it tasted all the better because this time I wasn’t eating alone!
Porta Marina Seafood. Via Marina Grande 25, Sorrento
Kerry and I enjoying a pre dinner drink
11th AUGUST, 2017 – POMPEII
We had booked what was purported to be a small group tour of Pompeii with hotel pickup. When the minivan arrived on time all seemed well. We stopped along the way for a photo opportunity of the glorious Bay of Naples but when we arrived at Pompeii we discovered that our ‘small group’ was going to join up with about five others, so it was not so small after all! Nonetheless, we had a fascinating tour of Pompeii and were also able to send a special birthday wish to a very special girl.
Remarkable preservation of a rich man’s house Mummified in the AshesBrothel paintingMount Vesuvius The Bay of Naples Petrified by the Ash
12th AUGUST, 2017 – LUCCA
On my fifth visit to Lucca in seven years, I loved it even more than the first time. I had known Barry on every one of those trips and despite the time difference, we managed to speak together almost every day. Twice while I had been there, he had proposed to me, so it was very special to share my favourite Italian town with him. I had found a lovely Airbnb apartment right on the city wall which most unusually, had a large garden.
A perfect spot in the garden for a gin and tonic at the end of a hot day!
14th AUGUST, 2017 – FLORENCE
I never tire of Florence. Like so much else about this trip, it was a special thrill to share it with Barry. Every time I visit it is more and more crowded with tourists, but it is nonetheless worth it to see the Duomo yet again and all the other iconic sites of Florence, Ponto Vecchio, Piazza Della Repubblica and Piazza Della Signora. Then, of course, Kerry and I just love shopping in Florence!
Piazza Della RepubblicaThe rather tacky leather marketPiazza Della SignoraBarry is a very talented photographer!
15th August, 2017 – Lucca
The wonderful thing about spending ten days in Lucca is that it makes such a fabulous base. Walking around the 4 kilometres of leafy top of the city walls that completely surround the town gives a wonderful birds-eye view of the entire town. People stroll, jog, bike and roller blade around it. There is always something new to see and sometimes I take a break in the Botanical Gardens.
16th AUGUST, 2019 SIENA & SAN GIMIGNANO
While both Lucca and Florence are easily reached by train, some of the other lovely Tuscan towns can only be reached by public transport in a very convoluted and time consuming fashion. So we bought seats in a shared mini bus that took us to both of these absolutely delightful little towns. I had spent five days in Siena some years before and was thrilled to witness the spectacle of a competition of flag throwing by various districts of Siena. Each district has its own colours, symbols, medieval costumes and traditional bands and it was intoxicating to hear them coming from all the various sections and then gathering together in the town square (il Campo) sheer they compete in the flag throwing competition. This time we were going to be there for il Palio, a world famous horse racing pageant. I was tempted to attend until I realised that in order to get even a glimpse of the exhilarating one minute event, we would have to secure a place and wait there for at least five hours. We elected to go on another day!
SAN GIMIGNANO is famous for its 14 towers which give this lovely walled town a peculiar illusion of resembling a medieval Manhattan. These towers (which once numbered 72) were the symbols of the power and wealth of the city’s medieval families.
A perfect day culminated with a stop at a winery for bread, cheese and wine and glorious vistas of the Tuscan countryside.
17th AUGUST, 2017 – LUCCA
I enjoyed strolling around Lucca with Barry showing him the places that I had fallen in love with again and again and pointing out the various places where Kerry and I had stayed previously and some of the great restaurants we had eaten in.
Lucca has some of the most wonderful restaurants that I have ever eaten in. Unlike many other Italian towns, here every visitor is treated like an honoured guest. At Gli Orti Di Via Iliza 17, we had goat, Vitello tonato and gnocchi, all of which was absolutely delicious. We shared the space with many Italian families and this delightful cameo is one of my favourite photos ever.
I love this photo of all the little girls hairdressing!
Another great restaurant is Antica Drogheria Via Elisa, 5. The menu is casual and varied with many sophisticated surprises. This is the place to experience Florentine steak and slow cooked wild boar. Locals as well as tourists eat here and there is no discrimination.
18th, 19th & 20th AUGUST, 2017 – LUCCA
While Barry took the three and a half hour train trip to Rimini and spent three days there exploring motorcycle museums, Kerry and I gorged on shopping. We took another day trip to Florence and explored every lovely boutique in Lucca. Then on the 21st of August we went our separate ways. Kerry took a flight from nearby Pisa to Vienna and Barry and I continued on to Venice via Milan.
22nd AUGUST 2017 – MILAN
Barry needed to go to Milano to purchase parts to build his Benelli. I just love Milan!
We stayed in a wonderful hotel, Maison Milano UNA comes close to perfection. The location is the best possible – only steps away from the Duomo, Vittorio Emanuel Arcade and glorious shopping in all price ranges. I was initially dubious because the check-in area was so miniscule that we were all but sitting in the street. My fears were quickly allayed. Our room was of moderate size but opened up to an extremely generously sized bathroom that provided every conceivable amenity. There were even two types of salts for the bath. The bed linen was sublime as was the breakfast linen. Breakfast (at an extra €30pp) was only available as room service, but it was incredibly generous and delicious. Last but not least, the wonderful staff…They directed me to a nail salon for necessary ‘refills’, a trendy place for a pre-dinner drink, and a fabulous traditional Milanese restaurant. Top points!
I can highly recommend UNO Maison Milano, Via Mazzini 4, Milan
23rd AUGUST, 2017 – OH WOW! BAUER PALAZZO, VENICE
On my previous trips to Venice, I had also arrived by train and then jostled with the crowds to find a place for myself and my luggage on the Vaporetto, the public ferry. I love traversing Venice by Vaporetto and always have two or three trips, one of them at night, because this is a spectacular way to see Venice. This time, however, especially as we were staying at the magnificent Bauer Palazzo, I decided that we should arrive in style. So I hired a private water taxi. The exhilaration as we soared down the Grand Canal, past countless palazzi from the 12th to the 18th centuries, and then arriving at the private mooring for Bauer Palazzo defies description.
The Bauer PalazzoThis is the view that we enjoyed every morning at breakfast
We spent two glorious days exploring Venice, getting lost, admiring the spectacular buildings, Piaza San Marco, the Grand Canal, the Rialto Bridge and so much more before boarding our Silver Sea Venice to Athens cruise. We even took a very romantic gondola ride. It was all so very special!
We were so impressed with Isobel’s skiing that we very much wanted to consolidate her skills by giving her another opportunity for a lesson. We once again booked into the QT building for a week but we also booked Les Chalet again for three days, this time for Kiri and her partner. I wanted to let Kiri see what a fantastic little athlete Isobel had become.
We decided to bring Isobel up in the car with us so that she could maximise her time in the snow. The poor little pet suffered car sickness on the winding road on the way up and we had to pull over to let her lose her lunch. She perked up quickly at the first sighting of snow and by the time that we were getting out of the car at Falls Creek, she was as bright as a button. We went straight to the ski shop and had her outfitted with boots and skis and she was all set for her nine o’clock lesson the next morning.
She loved getting on the ski lift and watching all the skiers gliding by underneath us. We dropped her off at ski school and did four or five runs ourselves before picking her up at 3:30. Barry gave her the option of either going down to the bowl in the ski lift with me or skiing down the hill with him. She had gone down several times with her class and was desperate to try it again.
Barry struggled to keep up with her as she darted in and out of the trees, leapt over bumps and was in the air as much as on the ground. As soon as they reached the basin she begged to go up again, and again and again…..! It was wonderful to see such enthusiasm.
By this third trip, we had discovered some fabulous restaurants serving world class food, Elk and Summit Ridge being our favourites.
Ever since my good friends, Bob and Judy Pegg, came to visit me in October, 2013, I had wanted to revisit the wonderful time that we shared together in Cairns. Our day trip to Green Island, in particular, was a memory that will remain with me forever. It was the greatest snorkeling experience of my life.
Bob and Judy Pegg
So Barry and I took off to Cairns. We enjoyed the Botanic Gardens enormously and the rainforest walk directly opposite was extraordinary. I am a very keen gardener and a great lover of the glories of nature. My experiences here were so completely amazing that they defy superlatives. Let the photographs speak for themselves.
We savoured many world class meals in Cairns and looked forward to the experience that this was all about – our boat ride out to Green Island for a day of snorkeling.
Barry had felt unwell after our bumpy return ride in the sea plane from the Hawkesbury River to Sydney, but the rough choppy conditions on our 45 minute boat ride from Cairns to Green Island, was his complete undoing.Within the first ten minutes Barry had gone to the back of the boat for fresh air and then continued to throw up for the duration of the trip. He was feeling so poorly by the time we disembarked that all he wanted to do was to find a place to lie down.
The only option for him was to lie on a towel at the waters edge. Despite my disappointment at not being able to share the thrill with him, I nonetheless enjoyed my snorkeling experience and was fortunate enough to spot many colourful fish, starfish, anemones, sponges and sea urchins.
Poor Barry suffered greatly all day. He started to feel marginally better as the day wore on. Unfortunately, he then had to revisit his horrible ordeal on our return trip back to Cairns!
GOLD COAST
By an extraordinary coincidence, one of Barry’s very few living relatives, his cousin, Ron, lived in the building right next door to my brother’s building in Como Street, Broadbeach. Barry and I stayed at the Palazzo Versace Hotel which was an incredible experience. We shared a lovely meal with Ron, Zarah, Harold and Elaine. The next day we had the obligatory family photograph from Harold’s patio.
The apartment that we had rented for Joshua was conveniently located close to the chair lifts. We loved the look of the nearby QT building and saw the advantages of not having to trudge down and then back up to Trackers Lodge after spending time on the slopes, so we booked it. Less than a month after our first visit, we were back at Falls Creek and immediately saw the advantages of having private accommodation and being able to drop into it for a hot cup of tea between runs. The outdoor balcony spa was also a treat.
I felt the familiar trepidation as Barry strapped me into my boots, but my lovely new ski outfit gave me some confidence. Conditions were almost blizzard like and that added an extra fear factor, but I bravely persevered. That first gut wrenching sensation of standing at the top of Wombats Ramble almost had me buckling at the knees, then there was that horrible out of control sensation, as my skis slid off the path despite my best efforts. Once I managed to get down that first section, the worst was over. On a run that would normally take Barry five minutes from top to bottom, my time was closer to thirty minutes. We would stop at least four times along the way in order for me to still my beating heart and to regain composure before heading off again. The thrill of seeing the buildings of the basin come into sight, gave me such a wonderful sense of elation. Then on the final down hill stretch and right hand turn, I would invariable fall down (for the fifth or sixth time) on the more churned up snow. If I was feeling particularly brave, I would boldly point toward the chairlift and we would do it all over again.
Next to the chairliftLooking more confident than I felt
By the end of our stay I was considerably improved and on some runs (not many) I didn’t fall down at all. I was determined to come back the next year. It was a bit of a rude shock when we were about to leave and found our car half buried in the snow. Poor Barry had to go in search of a shovel and then a wonderful young good samaritain came to his aid and helped him out.
We wanted to do something really special to celebrate Joshua’s 40th Birthday. It had been twenty years since he skied in Canada and he absolutely loved it. He very willingly accepted our invitation to host him and his family for a few days in the snow.
Barry and I stayed in an all-inclusive lodge where he had once stayed before. It was a little basic but some of the meals were really nice. It quickly became obvious that the cook was drug addicted. On one occasion he was clearly desperate for a hit and his behaviour was quite manic. It had a real ‘Faulty Towers’ vibe. Barry had his own equipment but we rented mine from the ski shop. The ski clothes, unsurprisingly, were very basic black and made me feel like the Goodyear Blimp. Some of the ladies at the ski lodge were decked out in very fashionably styled attire that looked great despite the padding. If that wasn’t bad enough, I had to endure the terrifying ordeal of trying to move around on the snow wearing a pair of skis!
Trappers LodgeThe walk down to the ski lifts
My first few ski lessons were a nightmare and I was simply unable to follow the instructions given. Nor could I dismount the chair lift without falling down on the ground. I doubted that I was ever going to get the hang of it but Barry obviously loved the whole experience of being in the snow and was really enjoying himself, so I refused to give in to my fear.
Although we were renting skis and boots for the girls, we bought them bargain ski clothes at Aldi and it was lovely to see their excitement when the bounded off the bus all rugged up in their warm clothes. The amount of luggage that came off the bus for Joshua, Lauren, Omega, Astrid and Isobel was astounding and it took Barry, Joshua and I over an hour to carry it up the four flights of stairs to their apartment. They even had one huge suitcase filled entirely with food.
My lovely snow bunnies
The girls absolutely loved the snow. They couldn’t get enough of it. Taking them up on the ski lift on their first day of lessons was cause for much hilarity because farmor, predictably, fell down, while the girls just glided away. Conditions were almost blizzard-like that day and although Isobel took her lesson, Astrid absolutely refused to budge from the warmth and fun of the play room. By the end of her lesson, Isobel was skiing to a higher level than me.
It really warmed my heart to see how much Joshua enjoyed the experience and the way in which he so quickly regained his ski legs. He loved the night skiing so much that he managed to do the run down Wombat’s Ramble over ten times. Barry went down with him four times but retreated in exhaustion. Omega and Lauren also seemed to enjoy the whole snow experience.
Night skiingJoshua preparing for his first run in twenty years
In one of the most frightening 30 minutes of my life, Joshua and Barry escorted me down Wombat’s Ramble on a proper ski run. Not just Barry but also Joshua, was extraordinarily patient, caring and protective of me. I fell down countless times, my knees were buckling under me in fear, I prayed for it to be over, and yet the sensation of being so protected by the two men that I love most in the world, is a memory that I will treasure forever.
The time with Joshua and his family was over all too quickly but I was so impressed with Isobel’s natural prowess that I was determined to give her more opportunities to improve her skills. For my part, I continued to go down Wombat’s with Barry every morning and every afternoon for the next four days. I hated it. Every time I reached the beginning of the slope I was engulfed by fear. All I wanted to do was reach the end and stop. Yet I could actually feel a very gradual improvement. On our last day, Barry took me to the extraordinarily expensive resort clothing shop and fitted me out in haute couture of ski fashion. Clever man! Now of course I was obliged to return!
My new Danish colours ski suitMy daggy baggy rented ski suit
Barry had always dreamed of riding his Triumph GT Sprint 1050cc around Tasmania and so given that we had mutually dedicated our lives to travel and adventure, naturally I encouraged this dream of his. I had only ever ridden on the back of his bike for an hour at a time and even then my backside would become really sore, so I had some trepidation about how I would cope with rides of up to four hours at a time. I was very impressed with myself that I managed to squash 5 days of clothes, medications, cosmetics, shoes etc., into one miniscule panier, but I did it! Off we went to Station Pier to go through the slow and arduous process of boarding ‘The Spirit of Tasmania’. Why can’t they send some staff members to Europe to see how efficiently the boarding of car ferries can be done?
12th FEBRUARY, 2016
I had found a very nice one bedroom apartment on the river at Salamander. It took over two and a half bum numbing hours to reach Scamander from Devonport, but the scenery along the way was marvellous. Scamander is a lovely sleepy little town and served as a good base for us.
Our Scamander home
It was unseasonably warm and we broke our golden rule and didn’t wear full protective gear for our trip to The Bay of Fires to marvel at the incredible orange hued granite rock formations. The orange colour is actually formed by lichen.
We enjoyed our day trip to Bicheno beach. It was only an hour each way. Bicheno is a pretty little fishing village which also houses a motorcycle museum which was unfortunately closed on the day that we were there.
It took three gruelling hours on the motorbike to reach Hobart. Of course Hobart is always a delight. We stayed in a lovely serviced apartment right in Salamanca: Salamaca Wharf Hotel. We packed in a lot in our few days there: wandering around the lovely Salamanca area, especially the wharf and market areas, a catch up with Andrew, one of Barry’s former motor cycle racing team mates, a trip to the Museum of New and Old Art (MONA), and a visit to one of our top ten favourite restaurants ever, aløft.
MONAMONAAløft
If you ever get the chance, do NOT miss this restaurant. Aloftrestaurant.com. Pier one, Brooke St. Hobart.
It took more than Four painful hours to reach Devonport from Hobart. As I hobbled bow-legged down the street, I caught the eye of one of the many bikies, sitting in the gutter by their bikes waiting to board the ship. He gave me an almost toothless smile and said, “if you think you’re sore now love, try riding across the Nullabor”!
It was really rough crossing back to Melbourne. We had a suite right on the bow and felt a bit disconcerted watching huge waves breaking over the top of our windows. We arrived in Melbourne unscathed, save for a rain drenched ride back to Rowville. It was a fabulous experience but one I am not anxious to repeat!
As if the year hadn’t been exciting enough, we decided to welcome the New Year in by experiencing the fireworks on Sydney Harbour. I’ve always shied away from New Year celebrations. I don’t like crowds and I especially don’t like drunk crowds. We stayed at the Shangri-La when we were in Sydney for our September wedding so we knew that the views of the Harbour from this hotel in the Rocks area of Sydney was spectacular. Sydney hotels with harbour views not only charge exorbitant prices for New Year Eve bookings, but they also have a minimum four night stay. For us, this was to be a once in a life time experience, so we took it on the chin.
If guests weren’t sufficiently gouged, restaurants overlooking the harbour were charging up to $1,000 a head for the privilege of spending the evening there. That was just one bridge too far for me and I came up with the idea of having a picnic meal in our room with gourmet items purchased from the David Jones food hall. It was absolutely delightful! We had wide window seats facing the water and from there we could see the throngs of people below and more importantly, the truly glorious and impressive fire works.
It was a night that I will never forget!
We took the train to Turramurra to visit my parents and to wish them a Happy New Year and then took the ferry over to Manly for the best value sightseeing tour that Sydney has to offer. Not to mention some of the best fish and chips in Sydney!
For Christmas I had bought a special surprise for Barry. A trip via seaplane from Rose Bay to Berowra Waters to the Berowra Waters Inn for a 7 course degustation lunch.
The view of Sydney Harbour was amazing from a small sea plane
The food was amongst the best I have ever eaten. The restaurant is only accessible by water. If you don’t want to go by seaplane, a boat can get you there from Berowra. You can find out more from berowrawatersinn.com
If this wasn’t the most wonderful few days of a life time, there was even more to come! We managed to procure tickets to see Geoffrey Rush in his performance of King Lear, one of the greatest theatrical performances that I have ever had the good fortune to witness.
By necessity our first wedding was a brief, private affair. My parents were in failing health and there was no way they could travel or participate in anything other than a brief civil ceremony. When we first considered possible wedding venues we thought of Santorini but then realised that the complications of dealing with translating documents from Danish to English to Greek and the legalities of having the service recognised in Australia, simply became too difficult. Then there were the financial restraints that would have limited how many of the guests that we would like to share the experience, could actually afford it. Bali was much closer to home and we could dispense with the legal complications by having the civil ceremony in Australia before arriving in Bali.
The quest for the perfect wedding venue ended when I discovered Villa Bali Gita in 2.5 acre tropical gardens with classic Balinese landscaping, tucked into the jungle, absolute privacy, luxurious accommodations and half an hour from Ubud and 5o meters above the Ayung river. Our private villa comprised of five bedrooms, including a huge, totally separate bridal suite, with its own upstairs living and dining area, hot tub and wrap around verandah, tennis court, movie theatre, gamelan bale, swimming pool, billiard room, ponds, fountains and much more. It all seemed to good to be true but I was delighted to discover that it exceeded my expectations!
Dining roomBridal suiteAyung river below the villaOutdoor JacuzziHoneymoon suite bathroomHoneymoon suite spa
Once the family had settled in, we learned that massages and yoga sessions could easily (and cheaply) be arranged, so we naturally availed ourselves of those services. Dinner together in the dining room was a great success. I simply told the cook what we wanted to dinner and they prepared it. I was a little concerned when the guys decided to have a billiard competition. John T and John Hansen against Barry and Joshua. I learned something new about my husband – as a police cadet he had honed some billiard skills and he acquitted himself very well!
Jessie and Kerry getting a massageFirst night at dinner
THE WEDDING – 17th OCTOBER, 2015
Of course the real test of Villa Bali Gita was the actual wedding service. It was nothing short of spectacular! A hairdresser and make-up artist were brought in to attend to me, the wedding bale had been meticulously decorated and the path that the girls and I walked on to get to the ceremonial bale had been strewn with tens of thousands of petals. The suckling pig banquet, the table settings, the skills of the 25 staff members, the Gamelan band and Balinese dancers, all made this the night of my dreams. Of course I also got to wear my beautiful Rajasthani wedding dress, embroidered with 7k of gold that I had purchased in India earlier in the year.
I love the detailing on this beautiful skirtMy beautiful grand-daughters leading me to Barry
After the photo opportunities came a delicious dinner, fabulous entertainment provided by the Gamelan band and Balinese dancers and much fun and frivolity!
Lauren and Melody delighted us with their lovely singingJulia and Leonie in fierce competition
I so admired the beautiful Rajasthani women in their colourful clothing. While India has its fair representation of female doctors, lawyers, engineers, architects, teachers and other university educated professionals, the women that I encountered on this trip were usually simple working women. They were the cleaners in the temples, the workers in the fields, the vendors selling their wares, the ladies carrying huge burdens on their heads and often labourers clearing rubble or working water wheels. Their clothing was always vibrant and, in the most difficult of circumstances, usually immaculately clean. I loved their clothing so much, in fact, that when I saw Photographs of traditional Rajasthani wedding attire with full red skirts heavy with intricately hand sewn threads of gold, I was determined to find one for my own wedding later in the year. Our driver, Mahendra, appeared to be horrified at the very idea that I would want a previously worn antique. He kept trying to steer me towards the more modern and more garish varieties, often in bright green or yellow with machine sewn flimsy gold thread.
It took some time to discover the reason behind his repugnance. It seems that on the death of a Hindu woman (or man), all that persons possessions, including clothing and bedding, traditionally went into the funeral pyre with them. This, no doubt, helped to prevent the spread of fatal infectious diseases in times when medical services were limited. I do not know if this practise still exists but the obvious repugnance at the thought of wearing dead people’s clothes, clearly remains entrenched in social mores.
Such wonderful posture The plastering ladyHappy school girls A most beautiful and character filled face
We were fortunate enough to arrive in Delhi to witness the Holi Festival. Holi is the festival of love or colours that signifies the victory of superior over immoral, or good triumphing over evil. Happy revellers pelt colourful, perfumed powder over anyone who comes close enough to be doused.
Delhi itself, while retaining some remnants of colonial architecture, displays evidence of great poverty everywhere you look. Shanty dwellings, homelessness, mangey dogs, rubbish and a high police presence. We found the rules for entering a public park be be rather amusing.
6TH MARCH, 2015
We paid a visit to Jami Masjid, the biggest mosque in India. It was so very different to any of the mosques that I have visited in the Middle East or China. The atmosphere was almost that of a family picnic and it was lovely to witness the reverent devotions carried out by generations of families.
7th MARCH, 2015 -MANDAWA
We left Delhi this morning with our driver Mahendra in the small Toyota van we have for the whole of our stay. The drive out of Delhi was an interesting insight into freeway practices in India. On a massive freeway with six or more lanes in each direction, the chaotic dance of death that cars, trucks, buses and motorcycles engage in has to be seen to be believed. Marked lanes appear to mean nothing to anyone. Drivers commonly drive on for miles obliviously (or perhaps belligerently) straddling two lanes. Others weave – at high speed – in and out of the many lane displaced vehicles. After an hour of involuntary flinching and ducking for cover, I began to relax and leave fate to take its course. Mahendra of course, hardly showed any discomfort.
However, once out on narrower, two-way rural roads, the sphincter clenching really began!! The art of overtaking is a highly skilled interplay of hand-on-horn, foot-flat-to-the-floor, and violently wrenching the steering wheel in the classic right-left-right pinpoint accurate swerve!! This is all compounded by the fact that the manouvre is usually executed (no pun intended!) in the face of oncoming trucks, buses, cars, camel or donkey drawn carts and a variety of man powered push carts or rickshaws … motorcycles are barely an afterthought, as they are expected to pull over to avoid all oncoming traffic on the wrong side of the road!! It gives a whole new meaning to the expression, “I’m on your side!!!”
The drive to Mandurah took seven hours in total. The roads were often pitted with pothole that would swallow a small car, not to mention the traffic-slowing congestion and chaos through an endless succession of small towns and villages. Did I forget to add the lack of any semblance of order or road rules of any kind. That made navigating traffic snarls a matter of playing aggressive ‘chicken’ with all the other vehicular contenders!
Mandurah has been a revelation. In what is an otherwise small agricultural village, there is quite a grand hotel. Obviously, it had been a Maharaja’s Palace in an earlier life. But I can’t help being reminded of the ageing qualities of The Best Hotel Marigold. However, this has been surprising in its quality … if just a little bit quirky. I could resist the photographic beauty of the place. When we arrived, a thunderstorm lashed our van and our run to the front door (assisted by porters running to our aid with umbrellas). But within twenty minutes the sun was bathing the columns with a soft afternoon glow. Here are just some of the pictures.
We actually stayed some distance outside Mandawa, in a pathetically poor, dreadfully dirty agricultural village whose roads were mere muddy tracks between ancient, cream coloured, cement rendered brick houses. But in the centre of the jumble of rutted lanes stood the one-time ‘palace’, now re-birthed as a boutique Indian hotel. But it was a delightful place to stay.
Our first stop was in nearby, Mandawa where we saw the ‘Havali’ (painted houses) mansions of the wealthy merchants of a bygone age. Mandawa was on the famous Silk Road. The whole region of Rajahstan still relies on camels as beasts of burden, although it’s hard to get photos of them as we speed past them on the highway. We had another long day in the car, travelling from Mandawa to Bikaner, the location of the famous “Red Fort”. That was an impressive structure! But more striking was our stop on the outskirts of Bikaner at the (Hindu) Kavli Temple … which is famous (?) for the rats which are revered and scamper everywhere within its confines … including across your feet as you walk!!!!! Like all temples and mosques, you have to take your shoes off outside. Fortunately, they provided foot ‘covers’ (of course for a fee!!). The thought of going in there barefoot doesn’t bear thinking about!
The Red Fort was a huge imposing structure. It’s called the Red Fort from the red ochre colour of the sandstone it is constructed from. Photos, of which we have many, barely do it justice
After a succession of days eating in our hotels due to simple convenience or the remoteness of the location, it was a pleasure to have the opportunity to eat out at a local restaurant. Needless to say, the price was a fraction of the hotel fare but the quality of the food was particularly good. We were taken to a restaurant on the hill of the Jaisalmer Fort. It was at the end of a building that served as a guesthouse. It was a rooftop restaurant recommended by our driver/guide. It had a quaint ambience … by which I mean it had a rough cement floor, rendered low walls and columns painted an aqua blue/green. The columns supported a steel roof frame with a canvas covering. Between the columns, there were light cotton fabrics, slightly torn, serving as a wind breaks. The table cloths were of the same material, frayed at the edges … all were strikingly reminiscent of used hotel bedsheets!
The food was excellent, and the service was attentive … actually, far too attentive!! We’d only just had our meal served and the waiter/owner had walked away. As we ate, we chatted about the day and the delicious meal. Then we became aware that the owner was standing less that two metres from us staring intently, and making occasional comments and trying to engage us in a conversation we didn’t want to have. Our mistake had been to show interest and kindness when we first met him. He’d seized that opportunity to tell us all of his recent life history, and obviously regarded us as his new best friends!! The poor man told us that he was not from Jaisalmer, but had come from the Himalayas over twenty years ago and opened the restaurant. Two years ago he’d gone back to his home, a remote rural region in the Himalayas. One morning, he went out walking and was attacked by a black bear that ripped off the side of his face and right eye. In the dim light we hadn’t been able to see him clearly, being conscious only that he wore glasses and was otherwise nondescript. He took off the glasses to show us the featureless depression that had been the right side of his face. The attack had happened at about 9am and he had to be carried to hospital in a chair by a relay of friends. It took until 5pm before he reached the hospital.
Today we went with a guide to see the fortified city of Jaisalmer. The fort is set high upon a hill with a commanding view of the surrounding plains. It is an impressively huge structure filled with the most magnificent architectural features. It makes many castles in Europe look insignificant in comparison. Walking its narrow lanes was a feast for the eyes and for the senses. It was like a trip back in time and culture. While there was ever the ubiquitous and pervasive tourist-focussed vendors, paid photo opportunities and offerers of all kinds of goods or guide services, there was so much here that was simply the genuine cultural canvas of the region. It has been the best we have seen so far!
Our guide Padam was a mature man, with good English (he claimed to speak several languages) and carefully followed our request to keep the vendors and beggars away from us. However, that was to come back to haunt us at the end of our tour. We had expected to tip him – according to our satisfaction – and we had been very satisfied. But when we gave him what we believed to be a generous tip of 300 Rps, he rudely flipped the notes, counting them in my presence and said, “Not 500 Rps? That is the standard fee!” I’m sure it’s not ‘standard’ by any measure, but I simply gave him what he asked … but then that is hardly a ‘gratuity’!
It wasn’t such a long drive to Jodphur from Jaisalmer, but there is so much to see along the way. There were at least two wedding groups, each with the bride and groom lavishly dressed … but in each case, surrounded by a bus tour group of French or Germans insensitively and intrusively snapping photos!! At the last few hotels we stayed at we’ve had to endure the noisy ‘joys’ of bus groups … which is particularly irksome at the breakfast buffet!! So, at each wedding party, we drove on by. The independence of doing “India by car and driver” is its best feature. It truly is a wonderful way to see it all without having an abrasive group constantly around you.
Shortly after the last wedding party, we stopped at a roadside market. In this remote part of Rajahsthan, we were as much of an intriguing sight to the people as they were to us. This was principally a chilli market. I’ve never seen so many chillies in one place. As we stood taking the few photos we did, people began to surround us in a very friendly, inquisitive way, looking at the iPad and wanting us to take their photo and show it to them. But their curiousity made it hard to take the pictures we would’ve liked, so we retreated to the car and headed off to Jodphur.
Jodphur is partly surrounded by a remnant wall that snakes over hills and ridges, akin to the Great Wall of China. One stretch Barry tried vainly to photograph (without a wide angle lens) must have extended for six kilometres or more – and that was only a portion of it! But the Mehrangarh Fort, perched on a high rocky hilltop, was absolutely vast … and absolutely huge. From ‘ground’ level (at the top of the rock) it extended upwards beyond the height of a ten or twelve storey building (at least!!). Again, photography struggled to capture the colossal nature and immensity of the structure.
The trip from Jodphur to Udaipur was an eventful one. The road out of Jodphur is a straight featureless highway (single lane in each direction). It is a legacy of the hostilities with Pakistan. The Indian Army has upgraded the road for strategic purposes, and maintains it well. The road passes through the flat, scrubby desert country, reminiscent of the drive between Mildura and Ouyen, except for the wild camels and vultures feasting on roadside carcasses! But approaching Udaipur, the country became more mountainous, with bare craggy monoliths jutting up out of the plains. Further on, it became more of a wild, rugged winding mountain road in dry, harsh and arid conditions.
The road was simply a narrow single strip of bitumen with precious little space either side of the tarred portion. Two way traffic was a challenge (particularly given the very cavalier Indian driving) especially when the opposing traffic was a truck or bus. Overtaking buses was something of a thrilling experience too!!! Added to that excitement, at one point we were confronted by a group of four aggressive men standing in the middle of the road, blocking our path and plainly intending to stop us. They were waving and shouting and had strewn large rocks on the roadway, but not fully across our path. Mahendra, our driver, simply planted his foot and drove straight at them!! At the last minute, one of the men tried to roll a large, wheel-smashing rock into the small gap left open. The men leapt out of the way as the car plunged through the diminishing gap, our wheels thumped as they clipped against that last encroaching stone!
Mahendra laughed this all off as youthful exuberance in pursuance of the celebration of ‘Holi’. He said that they only wanted to stop us with a view to having us pay 100 Rps to avoid the car being ‘bombed’ with coloured powder or dye. In Delhi Holi was a single day, but here in Rajahstan it continues for ten days. I’m not sure whether that was truly the case or just Mahendra trying to reassure us that we weren’t going to be mugged … particularly as he forgetfully told us, some time later, of the “bad men” and poor people (i.e. brigands!!) that make the area a very dangerous one for tourists!!!!
Udaipur is known as the city on the lake, dating from the 14th century. The lake was created by the then Maharana building the dam to provide water in an otherwise arid area. In all of the rest of India the rulers are Maharajahs, but for some reason (explained to us in a convoluted way we never really understood) here alone, is the ruler called a Maharana. Apart from its picturesque beauty and historic architecture, there are signs everywhere advertising screenings of the movie, “Octopussy” which was apparently filmed here. In the middle of the lake is the white summer palace of the Maharana, now converted into an ultra-expensive historic hotel.
Our Hotel, the Jagat Niwas Palace, is also an historic ‘haveli’ (rich merchant family mansion). Most of the places we’ve stayed at have been converted havelis of greater or lesser grandeur (sadly some of them plainly ‘lesser’!). It is easy to see how the concept for the Hotel Marigold films developed. Many of Udaipur’s havelis are located right on the water’s edge – as is the Jagat Niwas – and most have been converted to hotels of varying standards. But most appear to cater to backpackers or those on a tight budget. But, despite the perception of India as a poor country (or at least afflicted with some of the very poorest of people) tourist accommodation here is far from inexpensive.
14th MARCH, 2015 – PUSHKAR
Our last night in Udaipur was disturbed by the mother and father of all electrical thunderstorms and torrential lashing rain and hail. By morning, the weather seemed to have cleared. The roads out of Udaipur climbed up the same winding, narrow and precipitous mountain roads. Heavy trucks, buses, fast erratic cars, slow, struggling three wheeled smoking ‘tuk tuks’, and speeding motorcycles, trusting karma, darting mindlessly in and out, between all of the aforementioned!! Added to the hazard, the roads were still wet from the previous night’s rainstorm. But no one seemed to adjust their driving to take the conditions into account. Leaving early, as we passed through some of the small roadside villages, it was plainly breakfast time. The weather was cold and damp, making the small stalls appear atmospheric from the steam and smoke of mud brick wood fired stoves, topped with large blackened, dished cauldrons. A variety of golden deep fried treats were on display. It was a photographer’s paradise. Many times, we’ve managed to capture the roadside scene in videos taken on our iPads out of the moving car. But often the best visual gems pass before you get the chance! The road at this village was so narrow with so many cars and other traffic behind us that stopping wasn’t an option. So the only ‘video’ was that captured in our minds.
Our destination yesterday was Pushkar, the location of the only Hindu temple solely dedicated to Brahma. It is a place of pilgrimage for Hindus in the same way as Mecca is for Muslims. It is also the location of the largest camel market and annual camel festival. We arrived late in the day, just as another downpour was beginning. It had obviously been raining there off and on all day. The narrow muddy lane that led to our hotel on the outskirts of the town was inundated in parts and slippery. We were met by a proud wizened man in humble native dress and a rich red turban. He held out an umbrella to take us to the reception. The place had the appearance of a fort, but was one of the many recently constructed ‘heritage’ establishments. The ‘cottage’ accommodation was well away from the main wing and dining room. The room was large and well appointed, but for the large, garish tangerine coloured cornices set against the otherwise cream coloured walls and ceiling. We were walked under umbrellas to be shown to our room. Unfortunately, they didn’t think to leave us an umbrella for the trip to dinner! The weather was cold and still threatening to rain, so we opted to have dinner brought to our room … after much of the ordering seemed to be ‘lost in translation’, finally a delicious meal materialised. But with no internet and cable television screening exclusively Hindi programs, we decided to have an early night … at 8.30pm!! However, despite being in the middle of nowhere and the place being otherwise as quiet as a tomb, there was an even more dramatic thunderstorm that night in the desert!! The ancient two-panel door, fitted with a sliding wooden ‘bolt’, creaked and groaned as the wind whistled through its cracks. The ventilation was superb, but the noise was sleep sapping!! Eventually, I pushed a large heavy chair against the door. Silence at last!! Well, at least for about two minutes! Despite its weight, on the polished marble floor, the chair slid back away from the door. That was the least of the issues as the storm generated thunder, howling wind, lashing rain and hailstones. The drumming on the roof and against the windows was at times frightening. The power went out in the night and the room was pitch dark. I tried feel my way to the toilet and became totally disoriented, bumping into furniture and walls. Fortunately, I found the bed again and, in exasperation, gave up on my urinary ‘quest’!!
This morning, another early start had us back on the mountain roads. More of the same driving thrills!! We made our way finally to what passes for a motorway in India. In many areas, because of roadworks, we were diverted onto the ‘wrong’ side of the freeway. Although there was never any delineation between the oncoming traffic and the diverted traffic. We just passed by each other in opposite directions with sometimes inches to spare! Mind you, it wasn’t much different even when we were on our correct side, because it wasn’t altogether novel to find motorcycles coming towards us travelling at high speed … and not infrequently, cars too!! We arrived in Jaipur at lunchtime, to check in at our hotel before an afternoon tour of the city with our personal guide. The Hotel, Shahpura House, is magnificent. It is a genuine heritage building that was previously the home of the a member of the Jaipur royal family.
15th MARCH, 2015 – JAIPUR
17th MARCH, 2015 – RANTHAMBORE
But something seemed wrong when the ‘guide’ gestured me to move over so he could sit on the right hand side. He did that without saying a word or introducing himself. So I looked straight at him and said, “Do you speak English?” The blank, totally unresponsive, stare looking back at me was the only answer I needed. Not only did he not speak a single word of English throughout the whole tour, neither did he speak to the Indians in Hindi. In fact, all he seemed to do was take up space and sat texting on his mobile (yet, unbelievably, there was reception!!). So now, in the tiny 1300cc four cylinder 4WD Suzuki, there were eight adults and a child, most of us perched high up, creating a very high centre of gravity on a narrow-track vehicle.
This zone of the park sat at the base of a precipitously high rocky escarpment. There was thick impenetrable scrub, a tangle of thorny trees (the size of Australian ti-trees) leading up to the base of the almost vertical rock face. Somewhere in there we were supposed to be able to see a tiger. Plainly we’d been told that in each of the zones there was a small population of tigers. But it was hard to understand how you could have any chance of seeing anything in this terrain. But we set off up a very narrow winding rocky track. For the first time, we were literally the ONLY vehicle in this zone. The truck-like 24 seat vehicles couldn’t even have got to this zone due to the state of the access road, much less have had any possibility of coping with the narrow track we were on. Neither did we see any other Suzukis at any stage!
The track actually required very high-difficulty four wheel driving in an overloaded, underpowered vehicle. The ‘road’ was a jumble of loose rocks and deep furrows. The furrows often so deep as to tilt the vehicle dangerously to one side – more often than not, over towards a precipitous drop off to the downhill side of the track. As the track steepened, the little vehicle struggled. It was in low range in first gear and had little left in reserve as it laboured up the impossible hill. I’ve done a bit of serious 4WD driving in the past, and this was well up with the worst I’ve seen … but never in such an ill-suited vehicle.
Needless to say, we drove on like this for over an hour and saw only the view from the top of a rocky plateau … a few spotted deer and some samba deer. All of this with hardly a single word from the driver or the guide. We were relieved to be heading back down the track – except that I knew that a descent posed almost as many dangers as the climb! On the way down we suffered a flat front tyre. We were about to get out of the car to stretch our legs and to lighten the weight while the tyre was changed. The guide signalled for us to stay in the car. But the Indians were already out and we followed. But the frantic haste with which the tyre was changed and the look of real concern on the driver’s face as he worked had the look of someone swimming in shark-infested waters!! Their fear of a tiger was palpable! Obviously, we’d been placed in the wrong tour! But this was our last night. Nevertheless, we had seen a tiger. Many others had not.
We’d returned from Agra (and the Taj Mahal) to Delhi by road and immediately took an internal flight to Varanasi on the banks of the ‘Holy Mother’ Ganges. We stayed at the “Palace on Ganges”. It certainly wasn’t a palace in any sense, but it was right on the Ganges. It was also the most expensive place we’d stayed at, so location obviously played a big part … the room and the service didn’t rate very highly. The bed smelled a little musty and the sheets felt like woolly sandpaper, covered all over with irritating pilling. It was only when we went for a sunrise boat ride that we understood the curious ‘scent’ and texture of the bedding. One of the fascinating sights along the river bank was the traditional washer men, doing the laundry for all the nearby guest houses. Sheets were being rinsed in the Ganges water and spread to dry on a steeply inclined paved embankment to dry in the sun … on the ground!!
Varanasi is claimed to be the “oldest living city” in the world, having been continuously occupied for over three thousand years. That’s probably true, evidenced by the fact that nobody has swept or cleaned up in all that time!! Like many Indian towns, it’s ‘town planning’ is medieval in nature. The streets are very narrow, intersected by countless lanes that led off in dark labyrinthine twists. Trucks, tuk-tuks, push carts, pedal rickshaws, bicycles, motorbikes, people cars, dogs, pigs and cows all vie for their own space on the thoroughfare, all moving at dangerously different speeds relative to one another … and some not moving at all! It’s hardly surprising any more to see cows standing in the middle of a road or even a freeway! But people as well simply stop anywhere on roads, in the most awkward of places, ignoring the agitated chorus of car horns! The horns aren’t simply honked here, they serve as a resting place for the driver’s hand, and blare annoyingly and continuously like a siren’s wail.
All that aside, words alone can’t describe Varanasi. This whole trip has been the experience of a lifetime and one not to have been missed. However, now as we wait for the flight home, we feel a great sense of relief to be away from the constant noise, chaos and overloaded senses.
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