Δ I'm always "square pegs in round holes" Δ

It's been a long time since I've been home. I keep wondering what it will feel like to walk on through into my space, the neglected air of the unlived in life. The unbreathed in or out of rooms. I think of my children, my bed, that dog, a fire in a stove and a garden happening without my daily examination of it. Does it even exist if I'm not there to prod it? 

And I mentioned the other day about 'going back' and someone very rightly pointed out that it's not Going Back at all. It will still be going forward. None of us are ever going back. So, a little home nausea creeps in but it's there to remind me that somewhere there, is a place where the wind will whistle out of my aching bones. 

I will find the dreamed about hum of silence.

Kathmandu is noisy. India is deafening. Asia is chaotic. 

My home page home surrounded with its thick traffic noise absorbing hedge is almost unearthly quiet. The noisiest thing is the dawn chorus which used to wake me up dawnly and dutifully as the birds sang the day into life. Here in Nepal there is the usual competition between dogs, the boys school next door, which sees the arrival of pupils around 6 am whereupon they beat the rhythm of a football against a half built, half concrete, half bamboo scaffold. Like a steady shot of stutter, the bouncing ball rolls through to my subconscious and lets me know it's time. 

Time to get up, sit, meditate, find a small corner to unroll a skimpy little yoga mat and do the one thing that makes everywhere feel like home. Reaching up and out and in. Coming home every morning. Going Back? Never.

The other constant colour in my life is the print studio. A solemn concentrated walk away. I have to be fully aware and intent on traffic, potholes, dead things and the strangely ugly but endearing, one eared half dead dog that almost wishes me a Good Morning as we meet each other's eyes. He sits and he sits. Blinking into the dust, the exhaust, the weary brick lined streets.

I scoot across the crossroads where the road has been dug up more times than I can remember and I've only been here a month. No health and safety, no signs, no cordons. Just a hole. 

In the middle of the road. 

Big enough to swallow a motor bike and several passengers.

If you fall in it, it's your fault. 

It's refreshingly non nanny state but there must be a happy medium.

This isn't it.

I turn left at this marigold and enter the art centre where we have a print and binding studio. I have started to try to make it a more inspiring place. Fill it with spring leaps of colour. The joy is already in here. Bouncing from the walls like the eternal football. It just needs a touch of illustrating.

The deaf young people I work with are bubbling over with enthusiasm and sweetness. We greet with a traditional Namaste, hands in prayer and then they rush me for a hug and I love them then for their simple faith in me and that we're going to have a great day together. Cutting, sewing, measuring, glueing. Smiling, signing, even singing, one girl sings a tuneless song under her breath, it is the soundtrack in here. It's comforting. Like Nepali tea made from milk bought in a plastic bag.

The girls travel for an hour to get to the print studio, they live out of town, in rural places and they trickle in to work by microbus. A jam packed bench seated small truck. They pick small plants on their way to the bus stop through the rural landscape and bring them to the studio and we print them. They were using dark indigos and clarets but I'm trying to encourage a bit of experimenting with colour and thanks to a very generous and kind offer of some new ink from Chocolate Girl we got a delivery from FedEx of some white stay open ink. This will hopefully open out our palette into a new spectrum and we can't wait to get mixing and cooking up a feast of colour. Thanks to the generosity of previous sponsors, we have a small table top etching press which we use to make these monoprints of plants...And I, in turn, have been turning them into rubber stamps to ease up the process.

The studio is a bit basic and thanks to the Power Problems we have here i.e intermittent supply = no water. If there is no power, then there is no water as it needs a pump to operate. The only water supply is in the loos anyway so we installed our own sink and water supply. I think this might be considered luxurious around these parts. It is poor. It is basic but we make a do. 
I don't think I could ever moan about my cramped, packed to the rafters workspace ever again. This is my challenge here. It's hard running a print studio with very basic supplies and even if we could afford them, the specialist items aren't available here in Kathmandu. 

So far, I've become a teacher of bookbinding, a guide for printmaking, a creative force, a reader of faces and body language and I'm learning Nepalese sign language. I think I can say for the first time I am spinning on newly oiled and slick machinery. 
But I have to say that out loud to believe it. 
And no-one to hear me but me.

During the last four weeks, we've moved to a new studio and I've been painting out a wall full of dark uninspiring emo graffiti with the aid of a table and a bamboo ladder. I've taught two new book structures, had days of printing sessions and lots of quality control. I've also got a desk full of hand-carved (by me) printing blocks to make this year's Christmas card. I've designed a new catalogue and am in the midst of the charity newsletter. Not much time to bruise and ponder. Just as I thought. A more thoughtful me is emerging. Not necessarily kinder but lazier to leap. But towards these hesitant hands, eager eyes and half closed sea shells of ears I feel an ocean of kindness, a rush of tenderness for difficult lives and fuzzy round the edges futures.

⫚ getting lost and the possibility of an earthquake ⫚

It's been ages. This is down to a couple of things. No electricity=no wifi=candles and early nights. This is good for catching up on sleep especially as it is cool at night and I can snuggle under a quilt reading by candlelight and drinking tea. (a hobby of sorts). I have also been throwing myself into the joyful division that is my work here in Kathmandu. It's very exciting and I really want to share with you images of the bookbinding and printmaking we have been doing but it is early days and I have to check with the boss that it's okay to publish these things and as he is really busy I don't want to disturb him with my minority blog reading requests. So stand by for gorgeous work images and I'll just take you with me to Darbur Square in Patan and the surrounding streets for a little tour of the Nepalese neighbourhood in which I reside, for now.

If you look closely you can see the Himalayas in the distance. A feast for my eyes. I had been quite sick for a couple of days & had lived a well worn path between my bed and the bathroom for a while and this was my first excursion into sunshine and streets and the mountains made my heart lift. My legs were a little dehydration caused wobbly but I managed to snap some pics. I want to return here at dawn, no people and probably more magnificent if that is possible. I loved it all. This is a world heritage site and it's stunning. An architectural dream and you can wander all over the place and sit on the little temples and you get left alone. I can't imagine English Heritage being in charge of this slice of history.

Then when I was meandering around this collection of stunning shapes and layers of history I decided to dip into a cool dark alley and had a cup of tea then promptly got lost on purpose. My new favourite thing to do. 

I am so nosey, poking around streets where life goes on unchanging for people; despite the world mutating and morphing and nature's power changing the world in a heartbeat. Nepal is due an earthquake. It wouldn't cope. It is overcrowded, overbuilt and very unstable anyway. In the house I live in here, there are earthquake alarms and notices telling us what to do. Drop to the ground basically and cover your head or get under a table? It is unnerving and when I wander these streets I can see how fragile this whole city is. A deck of cards. I say my prayers that these lives continue unrocked for eternity.

There are more images on my Flickr  page if you'd care for some more snaps! I will be back with the gorgeousness that is my job here. I am truly amazed and touched by what I am experiencing and am loving every moment of teaching and making with My Girls. Will tell all as soon as I get the OK and of course I know you will be waiting for the Trip To The Paper Factory post I am planning.

It was enough to give me the vapours.

Love from my little room in Nepal...

᚛ 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.

ᕱ moving on with a lighter heart ᕱ

"For now she need not think about anybody. She could be herself, by herself.
And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well, not even to think.
To be silent, to be alone. 


All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, 
with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge shaped core of darkness, 
something invisible to others.


Although she continued to knit, and sat upright, it was thus that she felt herself; and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures.
When life sank down for a moment, the range of experience seemed limitless...
Beneath it is all dark, it is all spreading, it is unfathomably deep; but now and again we rise to the surface and that is what you see us by.


Her horizon seemed to her limitless."


from To The Lighthouse-Virginia Woolf
quoted from A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit

I am preparing to leave India for Nepal. Next Wednesday sees me moving on.

Never

Ending

Peace

And

Love (apparently)

Here I come.

Nervous

Excited

Packing

Anxious

Looking forward to moving on

I already know the internet connection is going to be terrible,

so, bear with me my friends, I will be back.

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.

ᙊ beware of the crocodiles ᙍ

The lake is the closest this city gets to having lungs. Despite being close to the chaos and pollution, this area is literally a breath of fresh air here, especially at 6am. Clean and cool and quite perfect for a stroll. The mosquitos are nowhere to be seen and the birds and creatures seem completely unbothered by us.
Quite a lot of locals come here to trudge, walk or jog around the lake.
The lake is also home to fishermen who fish in coracle boats which are simple floating circular baskets. I have been in one before and they are surprisingly stable. Though when you look at them your mind fights this fact. Just beyond the fishing boats is a huge swathe of green that cuts across the lake and it is teeming with giant pelicans! Amazing! Next time I will get a picture but we glided past them when it was still dark. No way was I going to flash photograph them. Huge wings, huge beaks. I wonder if they ever get eaten by crocodiles? What do crocodiles eat anyway? Not chapatis & dahl.

Crocodiles live in the centre of the lake so I was a bit nervous, I hadn't read up on Crocodile Attack Survival but having said that I would have liked a crocodile wrestling story for my after dinner speaking tour.

I didn't see one but I did see the warning sign. Apparently when the lake dried up a bit last year the crocs were found wandering in the road. I don't know how true that is but how weird that would have been to see a croc strolling into the city.  

I hope these two don't mind that I snapped them, aren't they gorgeous in yellow? They were briskly walking and the sun was coming up. I felt a bit voyeuristic, I do usually ask people but this was a fleeting moment of action.

And this crumbly glamour? Reminds me of British Victorian seaside structures. Love those stripes... 

४ Pure Gold ४

Every morning when I wake up, here in India, I see Ganesh. Remover of Obstacles and God of Beginnings, it is a good way to begin my day. If you've been with me a long time then you'll remember how I prayed to Ganesh for help in India and he sent me Pushpa. Read my early forays into Indian life here  
Me and Ganesh? We got a thing.

But what also was becoming obvious upon waking is how much my hips were aching and how hard my bed was becoming. So I decided to buy a new mattress. My bed is bigger than a single size but not as big as a double and I went to the mattress making shop and constructed a deal (lots of head wobbling, head shaking and hand shaking) and chose my fabric from this selection.

These are brocades and I really like them. Can you guess which one I chose??

The mattress (handmade to my spec) was going to be ready to collect the next day! 

Amazing. Customer is called Madam.

This is why I love India. Nothing takes forever and it's all done with a smile.

The mattresses are sewn outside in the street by a man with a very large needle. They are stuffed with pure cotton and pierced with the needle by hand. 
And I really like them and wish I could have some at home for garden lounging and guest beds. 
*phones export shipping company*

When I went back by rickshaw to collect my mattress I spotted it from the street.

Now I have a lovely comfortable bed. 

And a growing penchant for orange.

And as a finale...look at this gorgeous creature I spotted this morning.