How to be a Handmade Hero: Part 6 – Cooking, kittens, fair trade fun and escape to Jakarta

How to be a Handmade Hero: Part 6 – Cooking, kittens, fair trade fun and escape to Jakarta

How to be a Handmade Hero: Part Six – cooking, kittens, fair trade fun and escape to Jakarta. Featuring Come Dine with Me revamped for Indonesia, a small ginger kitten, how buying fair trade can save the world, a mad dash into Jakarta for lovely, lovely fabric, shells wearing googly eyes, and a final goodbye.

Tatopani to Beni to Baglung to Pokhara: “Happy Jerni to Pasanjar.”

On four wheels instead of two feet at last. Now I could relax. Yes, there I was relaxing. Enter disaster, stage right.

Varanasi: “Welcome to Varanasi.”

People waded into the Ganges to bathe, bent to wash clothes, stood beside the water to place floating lights on its surface, fished about in the depths for errant cricket balls, and in some cases took a quick healing drink (I didn’t join them on that one).

Jaisalmer (Thar Desert): “In the morning we go to meet your camel.”

I was first introduced to my camel as Michael Jackson (the camel’s name, not mine), but I later found out that his real name was Rallu. A much more camel-sounding name if you ask me.

Jodhpur: “Excuuuuse me, ma’am! You know what is wool?”

At one point, a bit yarn hungry by now, I happened upon a dusty bag of nasty pink acrylic wool. A small boy leapt from the shadows of the shop, “Excuuuuse me, ma’am! You know what is wool?” he demanded. I did know what is wool. That wasn’t wool.

Jaipur: “This is no rickshaw! This is Ferrari!”

An army of monkeys marching down three sides of a narrow alleyway, their tails waving like banners of victory behind them.

Two mud-black pigs caught snuffling through the worst smelling rubbish in a tiny side street, one turning its too-pink nose to pose for the camera.

Amritsar: “You my brother. You my sister.”

Gap-toothed rickshaw driver to the rescue! He lead us out into the street next to his chugging steed “No worry.” He told us through his festive grin. He motioned to the boys “You my brother. You my brother. You my brother.” Then with a pat on my shoulder “You my sister. Come. I find you room.”

Mumbai: “Excuse me, you want to be in a Bollywood film?”

Mumbai. Once Bombay (they just call Bombay Mix ‘Mix’ here), and now Mumbai, but still Bombay to half the people here leaving us all a bit confused really.

Palolem to Arumbol: “The hell was full…so I came back”

So I’d like to introduce you all to the wonder that is the Indian Road. The Indian road is like a montage of every major genre of movie all conveniently played on the widescreen that is the windscreen of your you-want-taxi-lady?