Derby – city of the hangovers, heartaches, hidden handholding and half-price promises of my misspent youth. I returned here dragging my feet so reluctantly I may as well have been walking backwards. A cup of tea, a deep breath, a check of the knitblast utility belt and a trip into my past. Here was the […]
Kathmandu. I have always wanted to come to Kathmandu, though I didn’t really know anything about it. The name alone convinced me it was somewhere I needed to see. What did this Cat Man look like?
It is the place where I finished my first ever sock. In a restaurant where rats ran in and out of the kitchen, jumping off shelves and around jars, causing a French woman to feed her dinner to a passing street dog and say to the owner “You should beeee ashaaaaaamed of your restauran’, eeet eeeez full of rats!” before storming out.
“She is very old and gets sick when she travels.” The girl explained, “She must sit by the window”. Granny moaned in pure Bollywood style. We looked at the Indian men stretched out on the bunks above, one to a bunk, opening a sneaky eye to watch the proceedings and then hastily shutting it when they saw us watching.
The maze is 20 hectares of pure imagination, twisty passages, armies of wobbly-legged stickmen, spindly ponies, growling stone hounds, hobbling rocktagenarians clutching clay pots, wavering-necked graceful but gawky swans and peacocks with shards of mosaic feathers, and colourful boogie-ing bracelet maidens.
Before now I have had no reason to fear the cow. I have cheerfully chewed my way through still-mooing steak for as long as I can remember. They must have known, though I have been veggie since we got here, because three days ago the cows took back the power…
It is quite frankly all kinds of magnificent to stand in the dark with the cool cave floor beneath the soles of your feet, peering up at a carefully and adoringly carved image of so many people’s faith.
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.
having my clothes washed by Jesus (a large Indian man in a white shirt with the word Jezu emblazoned in bright red on the front) and his grinning, giggly wife (who found her joke that women’s pants cost less to wash than men’s because “they’re so small!” so hilarious her smile took over her whole face (she hadn’t seen how big my pants actually are at this point.