᚛ 4,600 ft feet above sea level ᚜

Mysore to Bangalore = 3 hours taxi ride and it aint the M25

Bangalore airport = 2 hour wait time

Bangalore-Delhi = 2.45 hr flight

Delhi airport = 4 hr wait

Delhi - Kathmandu = 1.40 hr flight

My journey began at 2am and ended in Nepal at 5pm the next day...

Exhausted , headachy and dehydrated.

This is my first view from the roof where I am staying.

As we circled Delhi waiting for permission to land I could see a mustard streak that sits above the city, a gruesome layer that floats atop the smokey smog like an ashtray cloud. A yellow Delhi ghost. Delhi looked huge and packed full of buildings. I'm not sure it looked very appetising although I am sure it is full of interesting India. The big cities scare me a bit in Asia. I'm a fan of the suburbs, the rural areas, the pastoral idylls, even if they do mask suffering. Suffering is everywhere but in a big city it's tangible, it's unimaginably awful and it's there in front of you. Reminding you that you have never ever got any reason to complain. Forget our badly paid jobs, our boring lunch, our knackered cars, our busy workload, our lack of motivation, our relationships....Suffering is everywhere and we all have had some but here it's mind boggling. I am going to pray for the grace to remember this stuff...this grey slimy misery, this yellow frothy topped city and try not to moan or wish for anything other than this blessed bit of life I have.
I really wish these life lessons would stay with me, but as we all know I'm the complainer of the century, the moaner of moaning, the itchy footed freak and I can but try.

After all of the waiting and zooming around in planes and sitting around at airports I was wishing I could unobtrusively take photos of kissing couples, sleeping tourists and strange hippy travellers. I'm waiting for Apple to develop the brain app, a tiny camera implant which means  all that I see I can download for viewing later. Especially as we started the breathtaking descent into Kathmandu airport. Oh wow, a big  lot of wow. I had begun to notice the sky clearing as we headed East from Delhi and the Himalayas were coming into view. I had booked a window seat and I was so glad. Mountain ranges look great from above. I'm not sure I want to climb Everest or anything but I do like looking at them. Once upon a time I declared myself a beach person but maybe I'm more inclined to mountains these days? It's definitely a mountain I climb every morning on my yoga mat...
As the plane sunk and my ears started popping and glugging I had the view of a lifetime, mountains, foot hills and green, green rice paddy terraces looking for all the world like torn edges of paper, layered and stacked in formation. No way of taking a photo but I will hold that image in my heart for ever. Beautiful, stunning and I wished I could slow down time so I could gaze some more at little houses on big hills surrounded with contours of grassy emerald and jade.


Landing was fine, after Bangalore and Delhi it looked like we were skidding into the Wild West. A few dilapidated buildings, nothing glittery or shiny here (thank goodness) I even saw a horse making a late afternoon shadow on an empty road and I thought there and then, "this might be my type of town."


I was met by a volunteer from the charity I have come to work with, as we raced through the narrow brick walled streets of Kathmandu I felt a frizz of life jump start my heart. I had arrived during the festival of Maha Shivaratri, the streets around the airport were bubbling with people and I saw impromptu drumming and dancing sessions by chillum smoking Sadhus. Hilarious and almost frightening, the driver zoomed away and we left the shouting and stamping feet behind us...

I'm going to be exploring more this weekend, I am working every day in a printing workshop which almost made me cry when I saw how simple and pretty it was. I am working with late teens/early 20s who are deaf and I am going to be learning Nepalese sign language twice a week, it is different from any other sign language apparently and I've also got Nepalese language lessons twice a week. Amazing. Pinching my arm as I write. This is my life? Thank you thank you. And it was casually mentioned that I would be visiting the paper makers next week and I'm sure my heart boomed loud enough for everyone to hear.

I'll show and tell some more next week...this is a sneak preview of the printed journals that they make in the print studio and below are some hand carved wooden stamps I found in the local mobile phone top up shop! Needless to say I bought a couple...the horse to remind me of the one horse town I thought I was flying into and the lotus seated pranayama yogi to remind me how I got here and a hand (not pictured) offering the blessing of good fortune. All made by hand, you can see the nicks of the knife. 

In my very brief ventures into the surrounding streets I've noticed that Kathmandu is a land of craft and makers. There are handicrafts and arts everywhere... It's going to be thrilling. It's very different from India, I'm still trying to work out why. The light for starters and not as friendly as my beloved Mysore but it is early days...I've only just begun.

ҩ loving the bones ҩ

I've joined a writing group. I normally have trouble with things that have group in the title, being a touch insular and having a fear of myself (autophobia-which is apparently cured by the almighty fix of yoga). 

But it is one of my new favourite things. Being in a group AND confronting myself. The panic subsided on meeting my fellow groupies who are now my new bessie mates in Mysore. I am becoming a belonger and whilst I resisted it for some time by sticking to my Essex ways I am settling into happiness and I'm rocking a smile big enough to light a small village in Nepal. 


It's only three weeks until I go to work in Nepal.

My new new fear is the power cuts that are daily occurrences there. According to my sources (i.e I can't remember who told me) the evening news on Nepalese television was read by candlelight in protest at 18 hour power cuts since the Nepalese sold their national electricity to India. A bit like pawning your lunch maybe? I curl into a panic at the thought of a) not being online b) not being able to read and c) not being able to see insects that may be hiding in corners before retiring. I am trying to convince myself that if I can manage to do a whole primary practise every morning and not die in slime on my mat, then I can cope with a little thing like that. But the time is looming for me to leave the sanctuary of my Indian mummy and I'm going to be going it alone in much more challenging circumstances. 

BIG deep breath. And smile again.

Writing class is an exercise in making time to write, in a very informal setting. We each write a word on a scrap and fold it up and put it in a bowl for the middle of the table. There is usually cake, coffee and snacks too... Then one at a time we choose a word and we all set off writing inspired by that word for 2, 3, 7 or 9 minutes. 
And out the words cascade. 
I had no idea I had so many jumbling around up here. I can't get them out fast enough. They somersault out of my pen like kids set free at home time. 

Then the bit that I was really scared of happens. We Read The Words Out LOUD. I was actually terrified of this bit. After all, the words that we write have no rules therefore no structure so it's a little like laying your mind out on the page and if yours is anything like mine, it's random and hip hop, tangled and a bit sweary. But it's fine here round this table of secrets. No judgement, no criticism, no praise, just listening to the words that someone else wrote is a big pleasure. It's inspiring and comforting and even I can do it. In my best Essex accent! The various international accents are a pleasure to listen to. It's as though I am tuning into a world radio installation of beautiful words, stories and snatches of prose. I really love it. I never want it to end. I wish I could catch the readings in a shell and listen to them later.

It's similar to yoga practise (which you might have noticed I try not to talk about, attempting to hold something in, maybe something like my Mula Bandha!) The writing is similar in as much as it's a practise of sorts and it is changing the way I look at things once more. This is very good for me. I want to change. I am glad to see things differently. The idea of practising creativity instead of waiting for it to strike like a midnight thunderstorm. This is revelation. I recommend it to anyone wanting creative sparks. Whatever your speciality might be. This, I am sure, would work for anyone. You don't need to be a writer.

So, now I dream of writing and fountain pens and the sound of scribbling. And dare I say it, I am able to concentrate, focus, immerse and absorb my asana practise more than I was before I started this writing practise. Light is illuminating the dark corners here anyway.

Sending a big smile from over here to all of you out there. Thanks for reading.

ⓁⒶⓏⓎⓁⓄⓄⓟⓈ

At the moment, apart from my mornings filled with yoga and meditation, I am enjoying swathes of space to think, write and doodle. I'm going to be working full time when I get to Nepal so this is MY time! A creative bath. I soak in it for as long as I can. It's quite hot and sunny and going outside soon shows me who is boss (the sun of course) so afternoons are nice and cool in my little rooms. I don't even need the fan on much in there, not yet. So I stretch and lounge like a spoiled pet. 

I take my camera on a visit to the kitchen because something smells so good in there. I love Pushpa's kitchen. the reflections in the marble, the fresh vegetables and the soup bubbling away on the stove.

The stove is a two burner calor gas affair on which Pushpa is able to produce vegetarian banquets unlimited and deluxe. The pans to cook with are like little vessels with no handles, there is a multi purpose gripping handle that works with every pot. Quite a neat system I think as it's less washing up and takes up less room. Also less places for grime to hide.

If I keep the bamboo blind up on my balcony the sun pours in and my ever vigilant Pushpa spies an opportunity to dry out her dahl which is easier to churn into powder for the magic that she does.

We take it in turns to follow the sun with the spread paper until it leaves the room.

This would make a great stop motion animation.

Here you can see the shadow of the rope that holds my blind up.

I like looking at it, it reminds me of sailing with my dad.

So these lazy loops are not just what my days are made of, the washing is a 'must do' job. A fragrant heap of yoga wear soon accumulates and a bucket is my washing machine. After navigating the pipe work map that lives in my bathroom I am able to drill into hot water after 11am as the solar panels have been doing their wonderful little job of providing us with free hot water.

And in I go with my Jasmine and Rose washing powder. I love doing my bucket wash, it's just fine. I'm doing stuff by hand and that counts for a lot. I love rinsing and rinsing and the thunderous rattle of water hitting an empty bucket is one of the Official Sounds Of India.

And the joy I know you will share of hanging washing out on a blow dry hot roof with coconut trees keeping my clothes company. As Chocolate Girl rather cleverly puts it 
"a lovely bit of billowage"

It dries in a couple of hours and smells quite a lot like sunshine.

This is of course easy for some of us to take for granted.

The UK is crippled with grey sky for ever at this time of year.

I say thank you thank you thank you. And then scoot back down to my rooms.

And while I am roving this afternoon with my camera I thought I would give you a brief glimpse of my new year's resolution fruit which is to teach myself to embroider. Please don't laugh. I am enjoying it thoroughly. I don't have a manual, I had one from a charity shop at home but left it in a packing disaster zone. I bought one here

"Learn Yourself 121 stitches with Pictorial Guide" 

You couldn't make it up.

but I am having trouble putting faith in a book that calls a needle a neddle.

And I can't understand the diagrams!

So, here's me.
very roughly
stitching a story

and only slightly more successful are my crochet squares which are keeping time with me

and being rather meditative and good company in their own right.

I think I might need a yellow wool to sing out the sunshine song.

This is going to be a blanket made of very happy memories.

I'm not allowed to throw these cut ends away. Apparently they will be useful.

I can't imagine what for but then again, I'm always after a little thing to knot or tie.

Love from me who appreciates all of you who drop by and share my blessed life.

I wish you could all pop round for chai and a spicy curried biscuit. 

Then you could hold my wool while I ball.

love what I do⏅do what I love

It is time to get my house back in order and reattach myself to this sharing caring blogging process. I had a crisis of faith about the whole thing since coming back from India. My creativity has been tocking away like a metronome & I've been working away like the shoemaker and the elves. 
But didn't want to share it *how mean and shellfish of me* 
I think it was the whole process of looking inwards and not being sure that I liked what I saw and thinking how frivolous my image making and making process is compared to the bigger picture of our existence and blah de blah blah...sometimes introspection is terrifying but I have now realigned myself to .this.is.what.I.do and acceptance is at hand and I am looking at using this 'gift' to change something about my approach to the universe. Sounds complicated right? Jeeez, you wanna stand here for a while. It's a cacophony of voices and ideas and on the verge of madness but I'm harmless enough. 
I just wrestle with why I do this and how perfectly everyone else seems to do it and to be honest how airbrushed it seems when the life I know is messy, dirty, smelly (that's the dog, not me), hyper, critical, argumentative and sometimes just like a box of fireworks that someone dropped a lit match into. 
Fizzing and squibbing into a blackened collapse.


And then I look at some of the creativity that is out there and I have to reattach myself to the community that is more honest than most of 'art' and say, "can I come back in now, it's cold outside?"


India and I, it's love. I miss it but actually it's great to be sparking off with stuff here and blogging and I? It's love too and although I can't share too much 'work' with you due to contractual constrictions here's some snapshots of life behind the hedge at the moment. 

°Ah there you are!°

As you may have guessed I've been feeling rather unbloggy but that's just because I had to catch my tail after two months absence from normal activity. Lost in a heavenly world of daily yoga practise and towards the end of my trip, committing myself to twice daily meditations I was a serene haze of gauzy wrap and landing back here was a delight and then quite quickly a mildly depressed bruise. 

Having dived straight back in to work related activity and waiting out on the edge of winter keeping warm vigil behind the hedge I am slowly becoming more acclimatised. I keep exclaiming to myself "Ah, there you are" and then realising that it's not quite me and then doing it again a few days later. "Ah, there you are" but no, it's not quite me either. I think I may have reset or changed a channel slightly within me but I can only presume that it is for the better because I am not miserable or worried; just different. 

I think there is an outline of me still on a yoga mat in India eternally practising the Ashtanga primary series. 

Which is just as well because all good intentions and self promises are kicked over the hedge here.

There is much work to do.

From headstands to leaps of faith, it's time to get cracking.

For all of you who sent me so much love and encouragement on my Indian blogging I thank you and will bring you more aspects of Indian life as you requested. It's just that I've been struggling to even look at my images. It's coming.