Travel stories and more

Life is a song

2012-10-24T08:54:00.002-07:00

It's almost an unsaid ritual--to pack our ipod/mp3 player when we set out to travel. Music for most of us is an essential part of traveling. And why not? It's an universal language that connects us all-- no matter what our country, our background and our identity says. Music helps us to get in touch with the familiar, it takes away the anxiety of being out of our comfort zone, it is a great conversation starter and ensures the camaraderie of others. Here, I bring to you six popular songs that makes being on the road even more fun.

1) I've been everywhere--Johnny Cash: Unlike this country music guru I've not been everywhere but nevertheless Cash takes you through the dusty Winnemucca road through to Reno, Chicago, Fargo
Minnesota and Tulsa. He crosses rivers, deserts and breathes the mountain air. A song that perfectly embodies the spirit of travel.

2) Around the World--Red Hot Chilli Peppers: Who can argue when they croon that life is beautiful around the world? It definitely is, let's sit back and enjoy.

3) Yuhin Chala Chal Rahi--Swades: A song that puts an instant smile on my face. Ace music director A.R. Rehman lends his magic in this soulful, happy song. The message is simple: Keep moving dear traveler because this world is beautiful. Now, who can disagree to that one?

4) Sweet Surrender--John Denver: I can sweetly surrender to this one. John Denver urges you to live to the fullest, live in the moment and live without care. In this world of chaos and competition, the song is like a healing touch which can make the toughest road trip a cake walk.

5) Time of your life--Green Day: This song begs you to ponder about the unpredictability of life. No ones know when life can take a turn because life is one unplanned journey. Well said Green Day!

6) Don't Worry, be happy-- Bobby McFerrin: "When you worry, you make it double. Don't worry, be happy." Not just a song for the road but for life that I am gonna sing note for note. C'mon let's put a smile on our face.

Music is a language, a reminder, a catalyst and the ultimate travel partner. It makes your heart croon, discard the blues and adds excitement to the travel. Do you agree?

London markets

2012-09-12T04:54:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite places to explore in any city is its markets. For me, they are the ultimate representation of a city’s personality. Away from the comforts of fancy ad gimmicks, air conditions and stripped of any artificial airs, markets are where you see the city in its true colours while indulging in some shameless people watching. Exploring a market is not just about shopping it’s about experiencing a city’s raw character, coming in touch with its rugged personality and getting acquainted to its many shades. Markets unlike malls also have uniqueness to them that can never be matched up. Of course, the fashionista in me is always beaming after getting her hands on that one unique piece.

At the bustling Camden Market

London, as we all know, is one of the best shopping places. Whilst names like Harrods and Selfridges have put London as a shopping paradise for the swish set; there’s definitely more to London’s shopping landscape than the glittery malls. I bring to you two of best shopping and people watching haunts of London—the Brick Lane Market and the Camden Market.

Vintage Cameras for vintage people@Brick Lane


Invitation from Brick Lane


Camden slowly waking up on a Sunday morning

Brick Lane Market: A study in culture and contradictions, this market is located on the northern end of Brick Lane along Cheshire Street in East London. In Brick Lane, posh boutiques stand in sharp contrast with rickety stalls selling a plethora of eclectic goods from old books, antique cameras, and vintage clothes to cutesy bric-a-brac. This place is popularized by bargain hunters, art students and curry houses, It’s unpolished, little wild, rough around the edges and definitely unafraid. And true to London’s multicultural fabric, Brick Lane is a place where people from all different cultures, backgrounds come together to clash and cherish. Brick Lane’s vibe can be summed up in two words—wild and eclectic.


Vibrant street art @ Brick Lane

Festival @ Brick Lane

Camden Market: One of the oldest markets of London, it has been the home ground for musical legends like Ian Drury and Amy Winehouse. Situated between Camden Town and Chalk farm, the Camden Markets give you a sneak peek to the city’s vibrant street culture. Saunter around its narrow pathways and you will soon realise that this is a place where alternative culture could have born. You will see an array of shops selling everything from Goth, Punk to vintage lifestyles.


as the name suggests

the Regent's canal

While its sheen as the alternative culture hub has dimmed a bit over the years, thanks to the influx of Starbucks and Gap, it still is one of the best places to go to get rid of the “herd” mentality and celebrate differences of all kinds. There are four main markets: Buck Street Market, Lock Market, Canal Market and Stables Market and each feel like you have been transported into a different city. Camden’s vibe can be best described as sinfully different and deliciously unique.

Fashion House@Camden


standing tall @camden

Oldest Spot?

So, what does market mean to you? And which ones are your favourite and why? Do let me know in the comments section.

Read my Weekend Note on Brick Lane here http://www.weekendnotes.com/brick-lane-east-london

My Welsh adventures

2012-08-05T14:50:00.000-07:00

Seaside Pier-Conwy

Conwy Castle

"Croeso I conwy,” the bright blue board told us. And before we knew, we were scrambling for the dictionary. But thankfully, just next to it the English board said “Welcome to Conwy.”

Yes, Welcome to Conwy.

An ancient walled market town on the north coast of Wales, this quaint little town is famous for its medieval Edwardian castle, nostalgia tinged houses and a place where the old Welsh language is still spoken-- sometimes casually, sometimes officially but always with pride.

Conwy castle, takes a place of pride in the narrow cobbled pathways of the city. And it is easily the centre point of the town, everything else surrounds this giant of a castle. Home to King Edward 1 between 1283 and 1289, it was built during England’s second campaign in the North Wales.

Much of the castle is in ruins but as you walk around, you can still signs of the ancient times. The castle was designed to have inner and outer ward. Today, the inner ward is in shambles but even then it doesn’t stop you from travelling to a different era. A World heritage project, the castle’s massive defensive wall still stands tall and proud.

Conwy Castle

As you step out, this town comes tantalizingly alive. We walked its paths and discovered its many niche shops while the waves from the nearby coastal pier gave us company throughout.

Panoramic view--Snowdonia

From Conwy, we drove to the nearby Llandudno. Wales, is a city for drivers. As your vehicle whizzes, your eyes are treated to beautiful rugged mountains, almost whimsical houses and vast green plains with schools of sheep.

Just half-an-hour drive from Conwy, Llandudno is a seaside resort. Llandudno, is a place where fictional heroine Alice from Alice of Wonderland , holidayed during her summer vacations. It is famous of its Pier, Bay and the Happy Valley.

Woodlands near Llandudno Pier

The Pier behind me

Our first stop was the Pier, a spectacle designed in Indian gothic style. It is made of cast iron, brackets of lacework in iron with a pretty balustrade and mouth extending to the beautiful blue waters of the sea, the Pier seduces your senses right away.

We take the much popular ropeway to explore the area. As the ropeway starts, at a breathtaking height, I cross my fingers and toes and open my eyes to the view of North Wales. The sea and the captivating Snowdon Mountains live me speechless.

Pretty Big thing

Bay From the Ropeway

And as the ropeway proceeds, the town of Llandudno becomes a mere dot in the vastness of the beautiful coastal ground of Wales. It’s an opportunity not to be missed. After stepping out, I go straight towards the pier to experience the blue waters of the sea up, close and personal.

Candid Camera

The village

The Village train

My reverie admiring the sea is broken, when husband announces that it’s time for the Bay--a gentle sweep between the sea made of rock and sand. The area of the Bay is the Marine Drive, a beautiful long road where the sea accompanies you on one side and the mountains accompanies you from the other side.

And here we are

Marine Drive

Llandudno, in a nutshell is this—a place where sea beautifully marries the mountains.

Llandudno, rydych yn wych.

Stumped?

Llandudno, you are marvellous

Slice of Rome under the English skies

2012-07-30T14:21:00.000-07:00

A famous legendary story around the city of Bath, Somerset in South-West of England is that the first human activity evidence was found during 8,000 years BC. The place had an air of mystery around it, with steam emerging from a green, hot, lush swampy area. Prince Bladud father of King Lear, had contracted leprosy and was cured after bathing in the hot muddy waters. In gratitude, Bladud founded the City of Bath around the springs in 863BC.

Inside the Rome Bath

Gorgeous Roman architecture

Outside view

Today, in the 21^st century these springs continue to draw the curious wanderer, artists, lovers and poets. And why not? With its quaint high street, cobbled lanes, velvety gardens, niche boutiques and Roman honey-coloured buildings feasting your eyes in every corner, the beauty of Bath has to be seen to be believed.
A UNESCO world heritage site, Bath was named as “Aquae Sulis” by the Romans in AD 43. Much before Britain went around making colonies, Romans invaded and colonised Britain. In AD 70, the Romans built a reservoir around the hot springs before building a sophisticated series of baths and a temple dedicated to the goddess Sulis Minerva. As a religious shrine and bathing complex, Aquae Sulis attracted visitors from across Britain and Europe, making Bath a popular destination.

Julius Caesar was a regular visitor

Ancient artifacts

Goddess Minerva

With a very distinct air to it, Bath is very different from other English cities. A great walking city, it is a slice of Rome in England. Bath has many attractions but I could only manage the Roman Bath and the Prior Park Landscape Garden.

Terrace View

Green and hot

Holy Spring

The quaint neighbourhood

Inside the Roman Bath museum, I learnt how the seemingly simple ritual of bathing can be an important social and economic activity. Well below the modern street level, the Roman Baths are known for four main features: the Sacred Spring, the Roman Temple, the Roman Bath House and the Museum.

The bath complex is a remarkable example of engineering as well as Roman art and architecture. Once completed in the 4th Century, it housed five healing hot baths, swimming pools and cold rooms, sweat rooms heated by an ingenious early plumbing system, and the Great Bath at the centre, where the surrounding statues of the Gods would float eerily in the clouds of steam.

The honey colored buildings

Bath Abbey

Bathing, during that period, was a ceremonial ritual where you socialised with people and even carried on business. Today, the museum gives you a taste of Roman life with actors dressed in various characters around the bath area.

The buildings above street level date from the 19th century and are made in the Georgian style. From the Roman Bath, I went to the lush-green Prior Park Landscape Garden, just across the Roman Bath (the city is not a very big city). An intimate 18^th century landscape garden, it gives you sweeping views of the city. An ideal picnic spot, it is a place where you can get lost with anyone or yourself.

Palladian Bridge

Built by entrepreneur Ralph Allen with advice from poet Alexander Pope and Lancelot Brown, it is also very close to the famous Palladian Bridge, one of four in the world. A stream tinkling with clear, cold blue water breaks the harmony of the green landscape.

From here you can clearly see the Bath Abbey, an Anglican Parish church founded in the 7^th century. A fine example of perpendicular Gothic architecture, the Abbey is characterised by sculptures of angels climbing to heaven, peal of ten bells, 52 windows and a large stained glass window. But its beauty lies in the fact that it easily blends in with other Roman buildings in the area.

Greenery everywhere

I sat there for what seemed like forever and everywhere I turned my heart skipped a beat by the beauty of this magnificent city. Needless to say, I felt a pang leaving the place!

Until later dear Bath.

Scaling the Snowdon, taming the beast

2012-06-07T15:04:00.002-07:00

The lovely snow capped mountain was staring at me quite audaciously. It was teasing me to come and experience it up, close and personal. I was in two minds—should I, should I not?? That it was a training ground for legends like Edmund Hillary was not lost to me. And there was that mind boggling number—1,085 meter high. It makes Snowdon mountain range in Wales the highest range in the area. It wasn’t a mere tease but flirting with danger for lazy city dwellers like me. So again the question remained—Should I, Should I not??

The husband prodded. I rolled up my sleeves, let out a small sigh and decided it was time to man up. And off we went. We gingerly started our trek on this Alpine topography. The path we chose was easy but still less used because the mountains can be a bit tricky with snow. Perhaps, it was this prospect of danger that kept us going. That the only way is up and if we falter…....well we did not. With each passing stretch the lovely village of Snowdon seemed like a mere dot. The landscape of bluish-white Mountains was beautifully broken by glistening, icy lakes and the mountain train which takes you through the range.

Snowdonia has its fair share of legends. Its Welsh name Yr Wyddfa means burial place and legend has it that the cairn at the top is the grave of Rhita Fawr a particularly fierce giant who had a cloak made out of the beards of all the kings he'd killed. Listening to these stories, we kept with our pace. As you go closer, the gentle U of the Snowdon Mountains stare right at you, the “U” was formed because of glaciers that were in the area some 18,000 years ago.

After about five hours we reached the peak, which was perpetually playing hide and seek, despite reaching the top of the mountain. The snowy wind was billowing with full thrust. It’s only with lot of willpower you try to move up to reach the peak. Finally, we reached the peak. And it was like experiencing God, the wind doesn’t kiss here it bites you. You reach top and you feel very humbled. There’s a reason why it’s lonely at the top because no man or beast is quite strong enough for nature. If the peaks decided to unleash its fury; only the unseen God can save you. But then the view, the calmness of mind, the agony of the untrained muscle is worth all the efforts.

Mountains are not to be underestimated. If going up is challenging, coming down is equally is tricky. With each step I gingerly took I felt the snow melting right under my feet, the surface stirring me a bit. It was demanding every ounce of attention. Meditation! We reach down in about two hours passing through hordes of pretty little yellow flowers and school of sheep munching away oblivious to anything.

When you reach down, it’s a moment of realization--that Earth can really hold you down.

It’s strangely calming.

Worth Remembering

2012-03-20T03:55:00.000-07:00

The World is a book and those who do not travel read only one page: Saint Augustine

The mystical Stonehenge

2012-03-14T04:38:00.000-07:00

As a kid, I have often been mesmerized by this structure, staring at me from the computer screen. So, it was only natural that I visit this mystical site which is just an hour from my home in Hampshire. This prehistoric monument, located between the countryside of Wiltshire and plains of Salisbury is one of the most iconic structures of present times. Believed to be the centre of Neolithic and Bronze Age monuments; it is certainly a destination for the curious wanderer and history lovers. From the rubbles of the plains, you will notice a circular structure where bluish rocks stand rather tall breaking the harmony of the green plains but lending it more charm. Welcome, to the enigmatic Stonehenge.

As you go closer, the site draws some serious awe. True history aficionados would love this place. The first stones were erected way back between 3000BC to 2000BC. Completed and restored in many phases from then on; today the structure is listed among the World Heritage Sites. The rocks are said to be Bluestone and Sarsen. Folklore and legend abound this place. Some called it the one of the most ancient burial grounds; for some it was the place of worship while some termed it as healing rocks. The rocks were once called Giant’s Dance and were believed to be brought from Africa and Ireland for its healing properties. It is also believed to be a site where followers of Neopaganism practiced religious rituals in the twentieth century. Whatever be the belief, no one really can tell how the rocks appeared here in the first place. There are also rumours of UFO sightings here!

Just outside the main entrance to the Stonehenge is the Heel Stone or Friar’s heel; a rough, giant stone which leans towards the ground. An interesting folk take around this stone is that the devil brought many stones from a woman in Ireland. While he was a carrying around the place, he stated that no one will find how these rocks came. A Friar then audaciously challenged him and said only he thinks so. The devil in his fury threw one of the stones which struck the friar in his heel giving birth to the Heel stone.

Despite these interesting stories, many feel the entire place to a bit of a dampener. Why? Because there is nothing else here but an explanation would be that it is a sensitive area, an area which is still researched time and again for Neolithic and Bronze Age cultures. Hence, it should stay away from “development” as much as possible. While some call the place rocks randomly scattered I cannot help but wonder if we ever made a similar structure in today’s modern age will it able to stand the test of time?

Food for thought

2012-03-07T01:52:00.000-08:00

Not all those who wander are lost. J.R.R Tolkien

Southsea, Portsmouth. Another trip to the sea side

2012-03-04T03:25:00.000-08:00

The skies are bright again but the mind knows no relief. I am bleary eyed, ridden with insomnia and a doubtful mind; I look for a quick out from the mundaneness. Sometimes, escapism brings a great joy, calmness and clarity of mind. Introspection, I call it. As I have said many times in this blog, ocean and beaches is my favourite spot when riddled with the various obscurities of life. The beauty of the ocean, its greatness, the sound of waves lashing against the rocks calms me, uplifts me, inspires me, awes me and definitely humbles me.

With the rays of sun slowly teasing my senses and my heart fluttering at the prospect of yet another new discovery I step out hopeful and head towards Southsea beach in the water front city of Portsmouth. The sea comes in many tantalizing forms as I discovered. Here there is no sand but the beach is made of many different types of stones, scattered and littered. I gingerly walk on them collecting some which catch my attention. They are pink, jade, sea green and some with a bit of sea weed on them. Aaah…the joys of finding something new out! Life would be so much more interesting if each day was different than the last.

In the horizon, somewhere where the sky meets the sea line, I see piers. There are two piers, I am told. The south parade pier and the Clarence Pier; the sites are now amusement centers. But to me from this distance the sight looks like a picture perfect postcard evoking great wonderment.

People come and go. Some are running, some are cycling, and many are flying kites. It lends an added charm to this already wonderful tapestry. As for me, I am once again lost in my bubble. I am at the safe place where the sea and its waves is my biggest comfort. Once again, the sea has succeeded in wrapping me around its safe arms. I feel uplifted, a tiny smile plays on my lips and the former frown lines are disappearing. The sea whispers to me to march on with head held high and that everything will be alright.

The dark clouds which were hovering around me are long gone and I am at a beautiful, happy place.

Just me, my thoughts and of course the ever calming sea.

Thought of the day

2012-02-27T01:10:00.000-08:00

My name is Bond. Vagabond.

London

2012-02-22T09:19:00.000-08:00

London.

A city always on the move.

A bustling, bubbling cauldron of many cultures, much to the chagrin of certain tram ladies.

A city characterised by the spiffy hum of several relentless minds.

The time is morning rush hour. Between sips of strong coffee and stretching; I stand waiting patiently to get my daily tube ticket. The sun was certainly out but the mist in the air was audaciously challenging it to shine brighter. Suddenly, there is a chorus of deafening booms. Westminster, the Houses of Parliament and the Big Ben lets out a screeching alarm reminding us to rise and shine, to shake off the last signs of snooze. I take the ticket; the helpful ticket-teller gives me necessary directions about which line to take. I am alert…at least for the moment. There are so many lines—Victoria, Jubilee, Metropolitan etc, so many changes and so less time to process it all.

I somnambulate and find myself amidst busy silhouettes jostling their way in a mélange of stylish suits, polished shoes and boots. With newspaper tucked on one side, a suitcase in one hand and the-all-important coffee on the other, they are an epitome of style. As the tube chugs in, everyone experiences a collective sense of alertness. Ready, steady and go. From somewhere a sharp voice reminds us to--MIND THE GAP.

Minding the gap, in less than ten seconds, I am in. Hurray. In the closed somewhat intimate space of the tube, everyone seems to be in some unconscious synchronized choreography, darting the headlines on their I-phones, rhythmically moving their head to the I-pod, reading the free newspaper Metro, skimming through their Kindle. I take out my own, try to get lost in the pages of my e-book. I think I look nonchalant; I hope I have blended in. Soon it is time to step out. Step out I did; only to get enveloped in a streak of grey. Grey skies were at it again! The streets were getting wet with the slow pitter-patter of raindrops. But thank God, I had the accessory dearest to every Londoner—the quintessential umbrella. Snooty yet a savior. I unwrap it, smoothen my skirt, tighten the jacket and march forward. I look London, I feel London.

Walking down the Queen’s memorial walk near Green Park, crisp autumn air kisses my face. The park is full of men and women dressed in stylish leggings and the shortest shorts running despite the nip in the air. Welcome to another slice of London life. I reach the famous Buckingham Palace after crossing the War memorial and find myself surrounded by ebullient tourists hopping around feverishly, snapping pictures, hoping to get a glimpse of the Queen or Kate Middleton. Suddenly, it all goes silent. It’s time to change the guards; I am told. The air is filled with guards’ bands and military music; new set of guards come out to take over the duties from old ones. With their red jackets and huge bearskins; they are an eye-catching sight. All of us look around, laugh and smile at each other; the differences of race, colour, and language are kept aside.

Time to move on; I walk along the St. James’ Palace catching in the local sights. On the streets, I can hear a myriad of faces of different races lending the city a beautiful, vibrant charm. Perhaps, it’s this variety which makes London a global hotspot. I find myself near St. Paul’s Cathedral, an ornate structure built between 1675 and 1710, a centre for arts, spiritualism, learning and public debate. The cathedral which was in news in 2011 for the anti-capitalism protests is said to attract people of all faith. Its legacy cannot be contained in the narrow borders of religion and perhaps is another testimony of the city’s multicultural fabric .

I still don’t know who is a true Londoner, but I am mesmerized by the variety the city offers, where each different culture comes together, integrate and become something greater.

As I step into the tube; I feel my cheeks flushed.

I think I am in love and hope it’s an affair to remember.

Thought for the day

2012-02-15T07:15:00.001-08:00

Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking. Spanish Poet, Antonio Machado

A walk to remember--Bakewell

2012-02-15T05:58:00.007-08:00

Ever fancy about getting out of the hustle-bustle of London on a weekend, get acquainted with nature and connected with yourself? Then head towards Bakewell in Derbyshire, a quaint little town known for its tantalizing walks, cycling lanes and mouth watering pudding. Nestled on the River Wye it is a small market town in the Dale district of Derbyshire meant equally for adrenalin junkies like bikers and cyclists as well as poets, lovers, painters, bird-watchers, artists and of course the true vagabonds.

As the sun rose on a lazy Saturday morning we headed towards Sheffield on an early London-Sheffield cross country train. There are no direct buses or trains from London towards Bakewell so it is advisable to start early. Two hours later we reached Sheffield interchange and from here took a bus towards this popular weekend destination. It takes about an hour to reach Bakewell from Sheffield and the rapidly changing skyline is welcoming enough—undulating valleys, beautiful foliage, old houses turned into little delis, shops and pubs, eye-catching meadows and greenery in various hues teasing your eyes and senses. The bus stopped near River Wye and as soon as you step out, you get a feeling of walking into a picturesque postcard.

The town is steeped in history; legend has it that town was probably founded in the Anglo Saxon times. The Bakewell Parish Church, a popular attraction and Grade 1 listed building is said to be found in 920 with a cross which goes back to 9th century, a proof for its heritage status. The popular Bakewell market was established in 1254 while five-arched bridge over the River Wye was constructed in the 13th century. With so history around, it is hard not to fall in love with this town.

Bakewell is known as one of the best walking destination in Northern England and it’s an honor not wasted. Walk on the banks of river Wye dotted with russet autumn leaves and aquatic birds happily crackling away on its water or through its many delis and shops selling vintage goods. Don’t forget the melancholy church; the all saint’s parish church; sitting atop a hillside is a breath taking site. The church is a treasure trove of many little wonders; two crosses which goes back to the Anglo Saxon time, wooden shields, pre-Raphaelite windows, sanctuary and altar. The beauty of the church is such that even the biggest atheist will feel a little connected to the creator after venturing inside.

It’s but natural that your stomach starts growling after giving your limbs so much of exercise; and this is the place for all food lovers’ especially sweet connoisseurs. Bakewell is the birthplace of the famous Bakewell pudding. There are many little bakeries all claiming to be the origin of the Bakewell pudding; ditch the need to find out the truth because all of them are equally good bringing happiness to your taste buds. While you are here don’t forget to sneak inside the famous Rutland arms hotel where Jane Austen penned her legendary work Pride and Prejudice. Maybe the writer inside you can come alive.

Bakewell is meant for everyone, walk, cycle, or simply do nothing. It is an ideal place to get re-charged and connect with yourself.

Hoping in the Hope Valley

2011-08-30T05:57:00.000-07:00

So life has taken another sharp twist and I am amidst new people in a new country taking baby steps to understand its different culture. Change is good and when you are in a different place its even better (not all hunky dory but yeah good). So far I am loving it. The better half and me are slowly settling in Sheffield and just getting over the end of a long, much looked for Bank holiday weekend. So as the weekend approached we decided to give "settling in" a break and just go out footloose and fancy as true vagabonds.

As the sun rose on a lazy Saturday we were bustling to get out of the door and see what the countryside of England, a country rich in culture has to offer us. No plans, no maps, no nothing..just an idea, a curious mind and a strong spirit (not the liquid kind :P) to guide us. From Sheffield we reached Hope Valley in Derby shire aboard the Sheffield-Manchester Piccadilly train. As the the train slowly left Sheffield, the skyline changed rapidly to huge trees, beautiful foliage, undulating valleys and green in every hue, tantalizing and teasing our eyes. I keep repeating this and once again I plead guilty--nature is truly humbling.

As we got down the Hope valley station; it felt like time travel to a bygone era. It was a scene befitting a painting...eye-catching meadows, old cottage houses rearing sheep, cascading mountains, watch dogs et all. The weather at this time of the year is perfect. It is warm enough to give your legs a good exercise and cool enough to do all that in a light jacket.

The quaint little valley is dotted with ancient churches, castles, small delis and not-so-big pubs and is a haven for adrenalin junkies like bikers, pony trekkers and rock climbers and even artists, photographers, painters, bird-watchers. Considered as one of the best walking countryside in the UK, it lies between the grit-stone moors of the dark peak and limestone outcrops of the White peak. The whole belt is an amalgamation of different valleys, moors and other ruins.

As we were taking in the lovely sights; we decided to make out first stop. Churches have always been a major interest to me, I don't know what it is about them--the serenity and divinity which wafts out from the place, the architecture or just some energy which attracts me towards them. We stopped at the church of saint Peter, a beautiful church standing majestically just on the outskirts of the Hope hamlet. Its an old roman fort structure said to be built in 1858. Built of wood and sandstone; its regal and breathtaking. Towards the right of the Parish church is a graveyard giving the whole place a very melancholy feel.

At this point we realized that with half of the day gone it is time to have at least an inkling of a plan, we decided to give cycling (mind you the leisure kind) a hand. But each shop we went told us we need to go to Bamford easily two miles from Hope to get one; and that's when we hopped into a bus. Now, there is something truly different between people from city and those from countryside; they are in many ways more hospitable and thus pleasant. We got into a bus and asked the driver that we need to get down at Bamford and if knows any cycle rentals in that area. He was quick to answer in negative, but before we knew it we were going through the narrow lane and by lanes of Bamford because our man was searching for a cycle rental shop for us. He got us down right in front of our biggest need of the day. Needless to say, it left us pleasantly overwhelmed. Once we got our bikes, we mounted and took a second tour covering Bamford, Hope before fixing our mind on Castleton.

As we biked the lovely breeze slowly kissed our faces making sure we are never too tired to give it up thus pushing us to trudge along the billowing roads of the valley. A quick lunch comprising chips and cheese omelet in a countryside British pub we reached Castleton; a haven for travelers of all kind; as the name suggests Castleton is dominated by castles like the Norman castle, the Peak cavern, Peveril castle, the Castleton village etc.

We headed towards the famous Peak cavern; a collection of caves where an entire village sustained some 180 years back. Popularly known as the Devil's arse it is one of the biggest attraction here. It was owned by the Duchy of Lancaster. The entrance to the caves is jaw dropping beautiful; it looks like an immense cleft on a humungous rock sitting in sharp contrast to a quaint stream flowing nearby. As you go under the cleft you enter a wide, impressive entrance of the caves. Families engaged in rope making used to live here. And even today you can see a house or two; not bigger than your own double bed there. As a testimony to the thriving rope making industry of the yore, the cave managers still give you lessons and tours on how they did it.

Beyond the entrance a narrow passage leads to a chamber known the Bell-House. Continuing on along the path you reach a chamber called the Great Cave which is about 60m high and contains a passage in its roof which emerges near Peveril Castle. Interestingly, outsiders used to believe that devil stays inside this cave and since the gurgling stream would make some noise; it was said that the devil was passing gas. See what all the simple act of flatulence can do.

But for the sake of royalty the name was changed to Peak's Cavern sometime in the 1900s as the queen was supposed to visit the place. Now the queen cannot say arse so a much polite (albeit a little too straight for my twisted mind) so the cave was rechristened as Peak's Cavern.

We came out of Devil's arse totally thrilled and not just because no one exercised this natural right inside the dingy caves :) and I could not stop wondering how many such mysteries and beauties our Mother earth is abundant with. Unfortunately, we were told it was too late (4:30PM) to go to the other castles and caverns. And my only grouse was at the ticking clock.

But then it only gives me a reason to go back. And I can't wait to hop in that train once more to get ready to be teased once again by the lovely countryside of Hope district.

The Humbling Sea--My Gokarna Experience

2011-06-12T08:12:00.001-07:00

One of the best things about having a job with unlimited Internet access is that you can keep troubling Mr G (Google not God, silly) endlessly. And so during my one of the many "working" moment, I asked Mr G about Gokarna and immediately images of the vast never ending ocean, pristine beaches and historical temples graced my screen. One look at the picture of the awesome Om beach; and I was positively lusting to go there. I mean I had to be there, it was some sort of epiphany and so with my roomie, my friend Jyothi I took off. Well meaning friends kept advising us with dire warnings--it is very sunny, it is raining cats and dogs, yada yada. But we still went, two mad girls going madder on the lovely beaches. It was a dream. It couldn't have been better.

Gokarna is a quaint little village in Uttar Karnataka; with vast beaches, a bustling village and the lofty Sahyadris; Gokarna is a ideal destination for those who loves the beaches and the mountains and want a taste of both at once. And being relatively less explored, it is every bit shy cousin of its neighbor Goa. After a really bumpy ride from Bangalore, very little sleep, we open our eyes as dawn hit. The first sight we see is the lush lakes, the still sleeping village and the smell of fresh rain treated mud awakens us; well its hard not to. A rickety tuk tuk take us towards Om beach and the famous Namaste cafe.

Still undecided where to stay we entered the cafe with much trepidation but as soon as we reached the eating area; we saw the sea waves hitting the hefty rocks, the sea wind caressing our skin and jaw dropping beauty of the OM shaped beach. The choice was made. The sea is a real moody creature, I realized. At times its calm, at times rocky and at times absolutely ruthless. It humbles you down and never ceases to amaze you. I thought the timing could not have been perfect. It was sunny just enough to take a long walk on the beach, get lost looking at the water, read or simply do nothing and cool enough to hike up the tricky cliffs. And as soon as you break a sweat, a quick five minute sudden shower will cool you down.

The cherry on the cake was meeting people from the other side of the world and befriending. Traveling gets rid of your bigotry and teaches you a lot, Mark Twain once said. And meeting different people and learning from them teaches you a lot. For starters, I could not help admire the gumption of this kindergarten teacher from Brazil who is in here for six months travelling alone,roughing it out in some unbearable conditions (unbearable for me) in sleeper class trains, living in match box kind of rooms all for the sake of finding herself. Or a German teacher teaching in a Chennai village who wanted to explore the varied nature of the seas, the people of this vast nation. I learnt at the end of the day despite our differences of colour, culture and languages. We all want the same things--to know who we really are, to explore the various secrets of world, to love and to be loved. I think this was the biggest highlight of the whole trip.

With this Brazilian friend we took off to the bustling market of Gokarna. Well, since it was off season and late noon, the market wasn't really bustling. But on the plus side we got some neat deal; loosened our wallet and bulked our bag with some psychedelic Alladin pants, colorful tops, knick-knacks and all. And while the locals do know how to haggle with an equally haggling customer (read me) I must admit they were much nicer than the shop keepers in city!! Its a quintessential village scene out there, with people greeting each other, shops slowly opening after their siesta hours, mowing cows moving about and all. The famous Mahabaladeva temple is located here. Unfortunately, out of bounds for the phirangs; believed to be some 1500 years old the temple dedicated to Lord Shiva, it houses the "atmalinga," legend has it that Ravana himself coined this name referring to the Shiva lingam's strength. With so much of legend surrounding it; its hard not to go there. And as soon as you enter, a strange sense of calm wraps you up....it is as if someone is telling you that all is well. It gave me goosebumps, I kid you not.

While there are other beaches as well, we could not go to most of them as it was the monsoons and we were told the sea can be really ferocious at times. It was closed even if we want to take the risk. But nonetheless, we trekked from Om beach to Kudle beach. But honestly after the mesmerizing beauty of Om, this was a bit of a dampener.Only because it was more populated which in India translates to more dirty. Really, when are we going to learn some civic sense and love the nature??? But to lift our sagging mood, we took a challenge with our firang friends. Trekking back to Om we saw the lofty rocks of the Sahyadris calling us. It was tricky and the unpredictable weather added with the high tide and sea waves almost slapping the huts was a warning enough, but we were hear to flirt with danger. And so we took, rough the slippery rocks, the wind plants hitting us from unknown quarters and gingerly without really looking down at the sea we walked. Looking back, I think if I had caught even a small peak, I would frozen, we were at a great height alright and single step gone wrong could have given a very nasty ending to this story. But Gods were with us. We scaled and it was every bit worth the risk.

The view was breathtaking. The sea all below, all around us. The "Om" shape finally revealing itself and of course the tall trees giving us shelter. It proved God is really there for only he could have made such a beautiful world. That moment I thought I was living inside a beautiful painting.

Gokarna is a place of contrasts. The small huts, the simple locals and ruined temples sits in sharp but comfortable paradox with the beaches, the cafes and the hammocks. You can get lost in the beauty of nature, get your adrenalin kick by trekking up the mountains and just simply discover yourself. Meant for everyone, bar no one.

Wild Wild South

2011-04-04T01:45:00.000-07:00

Work beckoned me; kept me endlessly busy. But I am back with a new adventure and a new story.

Blink and you are likely to miss this small, quaint town on River Chaliyar bank, some 70 kilometers from Calicut. Nilambur, is a far cry from the tourist hot spots of Kerala. There is no usual hustle bustle and virtually no sign of commercialisation. But don't let that stop you. You are in God's own country after all and here God comes in play throttling in raw splendour; wilderness staring right back at you. Me and Jit made a spontenous plan to go to this place one fine day only because I was whining that life has become a tad boring and like a clock. So we head off to this little known place in our car from Manjeri on a fine Sunday morning.

Honestly, I was not expecting much. I have never really explored the various trekking spots in my hometown. And Nilambur made a perfect start. The biggest attraction of this place is the Conolly's plot, world's oldest man made teak plantation. A small trek takes us to Conolly's plot, set amidst vast rainforests. The plot is home for a variety of teak species as also the oldest teak tree in the world- Kannimari-with a girth of 420cm at breast height and approximately 16-17 metres long. Your jaw is likely to drop when you see this immobile giant. There are as many as 117 teak trees in this plot. Before you wonder how so many teak trees came here then you must go into the deep history of this place.Conolly was a district magistrate of this place between 1835-1921. One of Conolly's duties were to ensure a steady supply of quality teak to British Ship building yards and for that Mr Conolly built this plot in 1844.Today, it is a perfect place to breathe in some fresh but wild air, take in the sounds of playful squirrels and birds chirping in the foliage. And let nature speak to you. As for me I regally played thepart of babe in woods while husband dear went on clicking away occassionaly indulging the child in me :).

But the most beautiful part of this plot is the hanging bridge. Made of iron bars and ropes, it connects the plot to the mainland. This strudy bridge sways gently as soft wind caresses you. Passing through the Chaliyar river amidst the vast green of the plantation, undulating hills and forest on the other side, walking on the bridge is like walking into a postcard. I kid you not!! Needless to say the best part of the journey for me. (Pics coming up soon)

From here we proceed to one of the kind Teak museum, some two kilometers from the plot. Now, I have seen many kinds of museums but this is truly unique as the various aspects of teak--historic, aesthetic and scientific has been diligently recorded here. Nature enthusiasts should certainly not miss this spot. Our trip comes in end at the biodiversity park. An artistically landscaped park which houses several species of different flora, medicinal trees and a small butterfly garden. The sights tease you and makes you come tantalizingly alive.

As we were approaching Nilambur, I saw large, palatial houses made of wood. The Gulf money was doing its job and its blatant display was only making me nauseous. I was only about to write this place off, Jits told me to keep an open mind. And that I did only to come surprised from this little known place.

The Motorcycle Diaries

2011-02-23T01:43:00.000-08:00

This year we ushered in the New Year in quite a ballistic way and were quite glad that it turned out to be exactly the way we wanted it to be despite many misgivings from dear husband. I wanted it to be different for three reasons:

• The idea of spending another year in a crowded pub with strangers was really very unappealing (Wisdom, wisdom)
• Our (Me and the better half) body and spirit was craving for some adrenalin rush thanks to the endless hours of work, pressure of deadlines and blah blah.
• I was thinking what better way to welcome the New Year, discover a new place, shake hands with adventure and if we are really lucky make some new friends.

And quite accidently we fulfilled all the above aspirations and Jithin, my husband finally learnt that the wife (Me, broad grin) simply knows more and it is better to listen to her ;). So after many deliberations, several arguments and discussions, we set off to a little know hill station called Yercaud, located in Salem district some 222 kms from Bangalore in our trusted Pulsar (Boy, are we adventurous or what). The journey replete with many breaks; coffee, food and exercise was quite an experience itself. We took off early in the morning just as the Sun’s rays were slowly hitting and was welcomed by mist everywhere. And before long we reached Hosur on the NH7. As we reached Krishnagiri at around 10 AM, the quintessential village scene was slowly unwrapping itself even as if we zipped, zapped and zoomed on the bike.
To give our tired limbs a break; we would often stop and stretch ourselves, giving a rather unusual sight to several lorry drivers using the NH7. It was pleasant to see women and men coming out of their abodes to work on the vast green fields. The air while passing through Krishnagiri is full of smell of mangoes and we learnt that Krishnagiri is one of the largest Mango producing districts in the country. By early noon we reached Salem and I was quite surprised to see showrooms of brands like Reebok, Adidas and Nautica here—far away from the fashion centers of the country. That’s when Jits told me that it is the next best place to shop after Tirupur where you get these brands in the wholesale rate.
From Salem we slowly moved to the Ghat road which was to take us to Yercaud and a sign board told us that we have to navigate through 20 hair pin bends to reach our destination. That was enough for me to hold on to Jit tightly and pray to all the Gods. While my eyes were closed, he valiantly navigated through the hair pin bends and other vehicles etc. With my eyes closed all I could do was smell the lovely mountain air and feel the cold air kissing my face. And I knew I was finally in the mountains…yiee!! And without much ado we reached Yercaud and made way to Glenrock Estate, a little known estate here. Smiling women and men busy smoking the bidi directed us to this place.
As we entered the estate, the air was redolent with the smell of local food. And my stomach growled telling us to eat. So without even going to our tree house (Yes, we stayed at a tree house) we jumped. It was the regular South Indian fare-rice, sambar, chicken curry, cabbage thokku but may be because it was all homegrown on the estate or maybe we were just too hungry it all tasted heavenly. Later, we trekked to our tree house on this large coffee estate. A minor trek but made challenging due to the slippery-forest terrain but we reached. The tree house was one of the best parts of the whole journey. Not only it provided a bird’s eye view of the entire estate and forest but also connected us to the wild aspects of nature. As romantic as it sounds, it was also scary to be here at night :P. We explored the little town of Yercaud. It is a good place if you want to trek, experience the wild side of mountain life or just do nothing but enjoy yourself and peace and calm. But every journey up and down the valley gave a great exercise to our legs and lungs. Apart from Coffee plantation, Yercaud is also filled with orange orchards, pepper, pumpkin and other citrus fruits.
As the day was closing to an end night was setting in, my husband’s misgivings returned. It is New Year and all we had was us and our tanhaiyee and certainly no dance and music. But we were lucky to meet a crazy and raucous bunch from Bangalore who certainly made it all the more memorable. Jits casually striked a conversation with Sanket who we were told later is the “Pappa” of the group. And he nicely asked us to join them. Pleasant introductions gave way to great conversations and not for a single moment we thought we were the “outsiders” in this group. We heard some funny nicknames Tiny for Kavita; Sheila for the Indian “French” boy Carthik, Daru for Darshana, Pappa’s better half and so forth. As night fell, we talked and laughed (mostly laughed) and ate delicious barbequed khaana while hubby made his specialty Pineapple-Cheese and Cherry.
While the air was nail bitingly cold all the laughter and antics made us warm. The women got the special privilege to make the men dance to item numbers, so Carthik did a Sheila ki Jawaani while Arnab became the badnaam Munni, Pappa danced on trance and Jits hip hopped!! While us women showered them with fake money in form of paper. A true Kotha scene only gender roles reversed :D. Now you know why they say women can make the men dance to their tunes!! But the best antic was yet to come. And it finally came as the clock struck 12 when Adarsh kissed and hugged the rocks; he certainly welcomed the New Year in a rocking way! As we all laughed at his expense I learnt we have to go back and dreaded the prospect to walk through that rocky path dead of the night.
My husband true to his nature held on to me, nudged and prodded me to walk. As we once again made way across the forest with the help of two lovely helped boys from the estate all I could think was the Blair witch project. The next day I was surprised to open my eyes and ears to mist filled mountains, birds chirping and a lovely feeling.
We made our descend from the tree house and Yercaud and I thanked God there was no Blair witch but memory of a great adventure, making new friends and an awesome time.

Backpacking across Ahmedabad

2011-02-22T01:31:00.000-08:00

Last year I went to Ahmedabad, the bustling city in Gujarat's hinterland twice. And it turned out to be a worthwhile trip, not just because of the lovely stories I got to report from here, but also because I was pleasantly surprised by this city famous for having the IIM and infamous for being a dry state! Dry state--for many it spells boredom with a capital B. But I understood early on, dry or otherwise, Gujaratis certainly know how to let their hair down without causing any major trouble.

The first thing which struck me was how clean the city is. Coming from Mumbai I am accustomed (If not happy) to see people spitting, throwing garbage and of course (men) peeing in any and every corner. Here I was pleasantly surprised to see people diligently looking for a dustbin to throw their rubbish even while on move. Needless to say, the city earned some brownie points just for that.

After as-comfortable-as-it gets train journey (Shatabadi Express) I reached Ahemdabad little after lunch time. Went to straight to my guest house. There was no traffic snarls to stop us and the drive explained that Gujjus love taking a chota break post lunch. Wow siesta hour, the term did not even figure in my dictionary and wasn't Mumbai the friendly neighbour city??? After freshening up, I went for my first assignment. While returning to my guest house, there were people full throng outside the city doing what they love doing--Eating! Roadside eateries selling number of savouries had opened and people were in full swing enjoying this palatable variety. I was overwhelmed pleasantly so for several strangers (families with lot of girls) invited us to have a treat with them. Though I refused politely their hospitality certainly won me over.
I refused because I was on my way to Vishala, a beautiful restaraunt designed tastefully like a village. Vishala is not just any restaraunt it is a little known tourist destination where you can taste not only scrumptious Gujrati cuisine but also a taste of the village life. As the evening turned into night beautiful girl resplendent in colourful garb came and danced garbha, dandiya etc while men dressed in turban and Gujarati attire of kurta and dhoti served the many guests. A word of caution: Go here only if you are a true food lover for they will fill you on and on without scrumptious local dishes like rotli, subzi, dhokla, thepla etc etc. Not that I was complaining! I returned to my room exhausted but satiated.

The next day my first stop was the famous Adalaj step well. Located around 10 miles from the main city, the step well, as the name suggests is a well with many steps to go inside. Now completely dry it was built some 500 years ago during the Vaghela rulers regime by Rani Rudabai. The well was a haven for travellers in the good old days where they would come to relax and have some water before proceeding. The total length of the well is about 240 feet and it has three separate entrances, the platform of the well rests on 16 pillars and each pillar is decorated with intricate carvings as is the various steps. Once a symbol of splendour today it resembles an abandoned building with signs of deceript catching in slowly. It was quite disheartening to see pan stains etc on this architectural wonder. But still, the clean parts spoke a story of utmost royalty.

No trip to Ahemdabad is complete without visting the historical Sabarmati Ashram, so my next stop was that. The Sabarmati Ashram, where history was written has always intrigued me. I was not surprised to see the Ashram without many visitors save for few History students and foreigners interested to know about the Gandhi legacy. There is something about the place it humbles you down instantly. I visited Gandhiji's abode and was surprised to see how sparse it was even back then. The Ashram authorities do a great job keeping it clean and green throughout and they are certainly a courteous bunch. Gandhi's story is filled in every nook and corner be it the home, the notice board with letters and sculptures and photos depicting Gandhi in many avatars. I really loved the place just for the quite it offered plus the lovely greens. The quaint Sabarmati river added to its beauty. Soon the banks of the river will be developed ( read Malled) and we might as well lose a symbol of simplicity and austerity very soon.
Now, a you cannot take Shopping out of a girl's list especially if the Girl is me! So, before wrapping up the journey, I made a quick dash to the Teen Darwaza bazaar, a bustling flea market. Flea markets and street fashion have always interested me. I firlmy believe a lot of latest catwalk trends comes from here and I never miss a chance to visit one. The Bazaar here is a microcosm offering you a great bargain on Gujarati textile, shoes, handicrafts etc. I brought some colourful dupattas and mojris which were completely value for money. And I left for home little poorer with money but richer with experience :)

Why I am here?

2011-02-22T00:54:00.000-08:00

Hello can't be seen but there are readers,
In this myraid world of blogs here comes another. This time I am here to share my various travel stories. The best thing about my job is that it gives me some opportunities to travel, meet other people and get acquainted with new culture. Luckily, I also have a hubby who shares the same passion. Not that we are constantly travelling considering there are jobs, bread to be won, salaries to be earned, pockets to be filled etc etc. But whenever we can we try and do it....individually or together. Travel to me is an adventure and at times the most psychologically challenging exercise. It is the best high I can ever get. And I don't mind roughing it in any circumstance. So watch this space to know about our travel adventures fellow travel lovers :)
Dhanya