Bombay to you is Mumbai to me

There are some thngs that are eternally India. As we opened the doors at the Mumbai airport to the surrounds, these things unfolded and became evident:

Jostling of taxis, cars, buses and man-pulled or pushed carts, bicycles. The endless hornblowing for no apparent reason other than that it is there so why not use it.

Women in beauatifully coloured saris which flowed as they walked bearing their soft middrift skin and shiney jewel-covered sandles amongst the crowds of plain clothed men in greys and black.

Men, women and children beggars at the window of the taxi or holding out a hand (or no hand) as you pass by.

Large billboard posters displaying the latest Bollywood film. We were in Mumbai for the release of the latest movie Om Shanto Om - a spoof about Bollywood which drew some critical acclaim from one of the veteran Bollywood actors who had been parodied and became offended - another great Bollywood movie looming - was he paid or was it real?

The crowded street bizarres - the Fashion Street, the Silk Street, the Perfume Street, the Pots and Pans Street lined with wares displayed around the entrance to a small alcove of cluttered goods waiting to be found and purchased.

The vendors, persistent in their 'welcome', 'come in', 'special price', 'no need to buy, just look','would you like a cool drink'.

The irritating repetitiveness of Indians degrading each other in terms of 'he is a thief', 'their work is inferior', 'that shop is too expensive', - all to catch some trade themselves.

The occasional naked man in nappy-style dress with the red or yellow blotch on his forehead.

The intense smell of burning incense together with indian perfumes, exhaust fumes, urine, hot curries cooking and the oppressive humid heat.

The squawking of crows or vultures picking the crumbs of scraps in nearby garbage.

The endless roadworks, paths blocked and buildings in need of repair or falling down from deglect.

Our five days in Mumbai reminded us of the beauty and the tragedy of India and its people. We were cocooned from the poverty the minute we entered our West End Hotel until we entered the streets the next day. We experienced numerous taxi rides in taxis that displayed decorated Krisna, Ganasha and other dieties, with fluoresent cabin lights glowing blue, carpeted ceilings and the reflection in the panoramic reavision mirror of the big dark eyes and white teeth of the smiling taxi driver.

The 'better-class' restaurants with their rich array of menu items provided us with great vegetarian delights of samosas, curries, yoghurst dishes, lentils and many other tastie delights that also cleared our digestive tracks.

We were taken by the extent of exotic jewellery, the multiple rolls of fabric in every known colour and quality, the obliging nature to make anything we liked for self or family and were the recipients of constant hassling to purchase goods which we sometimes succumbed.

We were able to measure the extent of pollution in the air in the mornings by the degree of the slit in Paul's eyes and the residue of particles glueing his eyelids together.

The craziness of this city played on Robby's conscience in sleeping hours with her waking in the night to visions of being followed by a stalker who that evening aggrevated her by touching and stroked her and the sadness of the sight of a baby lying on the footpath naked for all to step over.

In a few hours we are on our way home. It feels like we have had a lifetime of experiences in this one place.

Our minds are focused on returning to North Avoca, seeing family and friends, a swim in the ocean, a good BBQd steak, a cappuccino at the surf club and reliving our experiences through stories to those who are interested in listening.

The 219th day of this journey is with us.

Madrid and Farewell Europe

We arrived in Madrid after a very long, cold and cramped bus trip from Malaga. Fortunately had accommodation booked so were soon thawing under a warm shower and before long eating a nice hearty chinese meal near the hotel.

The next day we were keen to get our visas for India so that meant finding our way to the Indian Embassy on the other side of Madrid. On arrival we were reminded of the very beuracratic way of doing things the Indian have. After 1-1/2 hour wait we were told we could pick up our visas in a weeks time. Of course by then, we had hoped to be in India. After much tooing and froing they agreed to provide the visas in four days time for an additional fee of 44 euro. Next we nedded to secure accommodation for an additional night so set out to find a more reasonably priced hotel or hostel. We were in luck with a hostel with much better room facilities than our hotel and 30 Euros less and just across the plaza.

Again the art scene was at our fingertips in Madrid. With a special ticket to the three major galleries - The Museum Thyssen-Bornemisza, Museo Del Prado, Centro de Artereina Sofia. What is interesting and enjoyable about the galleries is that you can in fact view the entire gallery in 3-4 hours. There is always exceptional paintings that we had seen in picture books or read about but never dream would see the real thing. For example in Sofia we were treated to the well known works of Picasso - Guernica. To see it in real life, and the sketches and paintings that led to this masterpiece one can understand the trauma the society must have been enduring at the time of the Spainish Civil War. It was accompanied by a display of photos of Madrid - plazas and metro stations we had visited - during this time in history.

The Prado had just opened a new wing days before we arrived. On one level there was an amazing collection of Goya's etchings and drawings from bullfights to street scenes. The gallery itself was amass with El Greco, Velazquez, Van Dykes, Goya, Ribera and Rubens as well as many others.

On our final day, and battling colds, we headed to the Thyssen. This museum which is primarily a collection of the works of Baron Thyseen-Bornemisza and his wife Carmen Tita Cervera, a former Miss Spain. It provided a chronological display of works form the baroque and early renaissance through to the impressionists and modernists such including works by Pissaro, Van Gough, Degas, Monet, Cezanne, Freud, Kooning, Chargal, Kandinsky Klee and Rothko. It was a potpourri of surprises, colour and energy and left us on a high.

A visit to the train terminal with a central tropical garden with ponds of turtles, water sprayers brought us back to a humid surrounds and reminded us of the jungles. Unfortunately, everything was booked out to Barcelano so we delayed our return for yet another day and of course this had a domino effect requiring further accommodation. We were in luck though as another move meant we were in yet another hostel within the same plaza. It also meant we witnessed the trimming of the Xmas tree in the main square where the bear eats the strawberries from the stawberry tree. This is also where Madridians celebrate New Years Eve.

Madrid also gave us flamenco singing, music and dancing. There is something about these together that really arouses the emotions. The intensity of the singing, the deliberate and imposing steps and engaging expressions of the dancers places you tentively in their hearts and minds. We firstly visited a flamenco show in the back of a café bar. With sangria in hand the display of singing, guitar playing and dancing whetted our thirst for more. The three men singing dramatic songs of 'we don't really know what' but they were almost contorted with the emotion as they sung. The two guitarists were completely taken by what appears to be disjointed tones of flamenco but who, together provided a sound that again enthralled us. The dramatic entry of the female flamenco dancer decked out in her frilled spotted dress and tapping her toes and heels to the rhythm, the frowned expression of emotion and the hands and arms equally displaying the emotion all had us enchanted. The male dancer didn't disappoint either. With his slender body covered in black pants, a cumberbun, a short waistcoat, white shirt and the boots of a flamenco dancer he had the beat and movements that were so intense that within minutes the sweat was pouring from his brow and to our amazement and enjoyment he continued tapping and twirling suggestively for at least 15 minutes.

'Fully inflated lungs wailed and bellowed in unison with the sacks of emotions extending the dancers tendrils to the fragmented rhythms of the flamenco guitars. The audience was won with the screams of ola, bravo heurpa.'

The show lasted 2 hours.

The second flamenco show the next night was much more contemporary. In fact it was really a ballet so whilst it still had some intensity of the previous nights flamenco show it also incorporated various variations with colourful costume, various contemporary routines and had recorded music. So again it was capativating but not quite as enjoyable as the authentic routine in the café bar.

And so, with the weather turning quite cold - requiring leather jackets and warmer undies, we ventured into the endless plazas, viewed the amazing monuments including one to the street sweepers and walked the streets. We also learnt that drinking and eating at the bar can save you many euros and that churros (a fritter) are served with hot chocolate so you can dunk them. So why tell you this? We had had churros in Ronda and when the waiter came with a cup of hot chocolate we politely told him we hadn't ordered a hot chocolate. He took the hot chocolate away and no doubt had a giggle at our ignorance. We were better informed the next time. Ah well, you learn a lot from travel!

Finally on our way to Barcelona where we deposited most of our luggage until we returned and from here we head to India. The trip through the open plains where the rain mostly falls was dry. The hills and mountains were adorned with the colours of autumn tones in the patchworked paddocks of grapes, citrus, olives and many other varieties of fruit shedding their leaves. The soil changes colour from a the stark white of newly farrowed stripes to rich red and black of the lush soils.

We left Madrid with some sad news that our friend Marie in Adelaide is back in hospital so she is at the foremost of our thoughts.

With only a day left in Europe we still have a couple of galleries to view. Spain is a beautiful country.

PS Just finished our final day in Barcelona. It was a full day of Gaudi. From the historic Sagrada Familia (church still under construction after 125 yrs) to the La Pedera (an apartment block designed by Gaudi) and then on to Park Guell with an amazing display of mosaic art and more lollypop type architecture of Gaudi. All in all it was an exceptional look at one of the worlds famous architects on a beautiful autumn day in Barcelona.

So tomorrow it is on to India and with only 8 days before we reach home!!!!!

Where is Benagalbon?

If you find Malaga on the map on the south coast of Spain and travel east for around 25 kms then there is Benagalbon. Why are we here? We're visiting our friend Inger's sister, Gudrun. Gudrun has lived in Spain for 18 years and it is wonderful to be here with a local who has generously shown us the 'real' Spain. The beautiful countryside with the hillsides scattered with almond, citrus, olive trees. Also mangoes, avocados, vineyards, valleys full of market gardens, and drying beds for some grapes to become raisins. From the mountain top we saw small villages with their whitewashed houses and farmhouses dotted around the mountainside.

A stop off in a village led us through the narrow streets, some tapas and coffee and a local spanish lady beckoning us into her house to see what she has for sale. We walk out with fresh almonds, raisins, mangoes, dried figs and quince jelly. We then wound our way back down a very windy road to the coast.

The next day Gudun accompanied us into Malaga. The main pedestrian street was flanked by Rodin sculptures (a special exhibition), we ordered café con leche and sat outdoors to watch the passing parade. The highlight of the day was a visit to Museum Picasso. Picasso was born in Malaga and his grandson and daughter in law donated an exceptional display of his work to the gallery. We also paid a visit to his house of birth where there were a number of photographs of childhood plus many small sketches and artworks of his as a child.

A drive along the coast gave us a glimpse of the vastness of the Mediterranean and the black sands.

Paul and Robby were so taken by the countryside we decided to take the hire car into the countryside of Andalusia for a couple of days. We weaved our way through cork forests, mountain ranges and by lakes to the district of Ronda (the home of the first modern bull fight for which they are very proud!) and then down to the Costa de Sol. Our introduction to the coast was on dark, there was much traffic on the fourlane highways as well as hundreds of kilometres of townhouses. This is the area, we are told, that many English have bought villas etc for the summer with many migrating here. We managed to get ourselves completely lost after a couple of hours of driving and anxiety levels heightened we decided to bed down at the first available hotel - next to a casino in Marbella. The accommodation was above our normal standard but hey, when one is lost you don't have much choice. And, it is the first time on this trip we have been offered champagne for breakfast.

The next day we woke to the sun rising over the ocean and the mountain range covered in rain clouds. Our trip took us along the Costa del Sol. Back at Benagalbon, Gudrun had organised the 'best' home cookked paella at the local restaurant in the village.

The following morning Gudrun accompanied us to the bus station and bid us a fond farewell and safe travel as we departed for Madrid.

Barcelona - Valencia - Granada

Although we were both feeling a little travel weary, as soon as we hit Barcelona that changed. Spain was to be an indulgence of art and, Barcelona certainly was a fine introduction. With a special Art Ticket to visit 7 galleries we saw 4 of the 7 galleries with two of them specialist galleries of some of our favorite artists. Paul was meditative by the display of Antoni Tapies and for Robby the colour and the whimsical symbols of the art of Joan Miro. On top of these two exhibitions there was the wonderful display and retropspective of Picasso, the Barcelona Contemporary Museum and not having enough time we just have to return to see the Centre for Cultural Contemporary art and the fairy-tale-like structures of Guadi.

That wasn't all Barcelona had to offer. We found just walking along the streets of the Gothic quarters an array of wonderful architecture and myriad of squares with interesting gargoyles and sculptures. The markets - the fruit, vegies, cheeses and proscuito and the artesan markets with hand made jewllery, clothes, jars of jams and olives, as well as hams traditionally cured, pates and pastries to die for.

As we left Barcelona we were happy knowing that we would spend another two or three days before heading home.

So, we then headed for Valencia where we new there was much to see especially around the major Plazas and some modernist architecture. For the first time on this 7 month journey we arrived and was unable to find accommodation. A very friendly taxi driver took us to over 6 hotels without any luck plus phone calls to many pensiones and hostels left us homeless for an evening. The next best thing was to get on a train and head to our next destination Granada. We were lucky. The train didn't leave until 1 am which gave us 8 hours to see Valencia. The weather had turned quite cold and wet so the first stop was another art gallery with paintings by Valequez, Goya, El Greco and Van Dyke. We then walked and walked the inner streets of Valencia until we had had enough, found a bar then moved on to a paella café (Valencia is the home of paellas) and sat until it was almost time to catch the train. We arrived in Granada at 9:30 am.

Granada offered us the beauty of Alhambra. The only tickets we could get were to the gardens and to Generalife gardens. What a treat this was with the acres of very manicured hedges and colourful flowers and waterfuls. 4 hours walk went by without noticing. Today we are moving onto Malaga and looking forward to meeting up with a friend Gudrun.

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Lesbos for Three Days

Our excitement was high as we reached the shores of Lesbos in the ferry from Turkey. It was a strange feeling returning to the place we had become so familiar with and part of for 2 months in the summer. We were returning for our hosts surprise 70th birthday and to reaquaint ourselves with the surrounds in a different sort of way. This time we stayed in an apartment high on the hill of Molyvos, near the castle and only accessible by walking through the steep and cobble stepped streets. The front balcony demanded a view over the terracota roofs to the island in the distance. This in many ways was quite a contrast to our home of 2 months on an acreage with all the cats and an uninterrupted view to the Aegean.

Another stark differences was the absence of tourists. Literally no one around except the odd gathering of Greek men having coffee in the handful of coffee places and restaurant still open. The dogs which seemed to have taken over the village outnumbered the cats, although, when we opened our doors to the balcony we were greeted by a 'desparate' meeow trying to take refuge from the cold and wet.

The weather was the starkest of contrasts. For our previous 2 months in summer we had only seen blue skies. Not even a whisper of cloud. This time, the sky was enveloping us with its deep greys to black skies, the rumblings of thunder, the skuds of rain, the intermitent strong winds and the chill.

The harbour of Molyvos was quiet, except for the fishing boats which had anchored to seek shelter from what was locally considered strong winds and bad weather. No restaurants open - well on the last day we found one to enjoy a final fresh Greek squid and a Greek salad.

We love Lesbos and even more in the summer time.

Our friends Gianni and Eleni who were busy with their car rental business 16 hours a day in the summer were now busy preparing for the olive season. Laying nets etc as well as building a house. A welcoming Greek coffee from them and before long the four of us were out snail hunting. There was a pause in the rain and the hills were alive with the locals collecting snails. Huge hard-shelled juicy looking characters (the snails) emerge after the first rains. This is a sign that the season has changed, and the snails are a tasty treat. Within an hour the four of us had collected around 200 of these cute little delights and Eleni had a special recipe that would delight the family after a few days of preparation. Instead, they treated us to a wonderful homecooked dinner.

And then there was the party. We new this was going to be big when Melinda, the No.1 daughter started talking about it back in June. The first night we arrived we greeted a couple from Oaxaco,Mexico as they arrived at the castle and we escorted them to the same residence as ours. Michele and George instantly became our new friends as we spent many hours talking, eating, drinking and sharing stories. The following day some more Aussies and people from London, America, Thailand, Zanzibar arrived.

The party was a total surprise. As Jenifer enetered the hotel dining room with her 5 daughters and husband Giorgo, she was greeted by over 100 guests from all corners of the world. One could imagine how overcome she was and the surprise and thrill showed in her actions and comprehension that this was her birthday. And so the party continued until the wee hours of the morning. Fine food, wine, ouzo, water, singing, dancing - greek and modern, fireworks, 70 lanterns lit and rose to the skies. The weather had cleared and the sight of these lanterns rising higher and higher was like something from a fairytale.

The evening surprise was not the end of the party. The following day all long distant travellers were invited back to 'our' home on the hill for another birthday cake and more food. The atmosphere was much more subdued but equally exciting. There was no sign of our dog Roger or the numerous cats we had cared for over the 2 months in summer.

And so our time in Lesbos was over and with an early flight to Athens (we spent the day roaming the streets and a last vista of the Acropolis) we are now in Barcelona.

Gallipoli and Troy

'If you go to Turkey any Australian or New Zealander must see Gallipoli.' words we had heard many times so, despite Robby's reluctance Gallipoli was on our way back down the coast (we are now going anticlockwise). We hopped on a tour that took us from Istanbul to Gallipoli, Canakkale, Troy and on to Avylick.

No one was disappointed.

Anzac Cove heralded the beginning of a 6 hour tour of the area in and around Gallipoli.

The tour gave us a great sense of self as we walked around and heard the stories of great commarade by both sides to each other yet the horrific carnage resulting in over 500,000 people being killed and maimed.

On reflection, the stories are best described by many who expeirenced or who have been involved in commemoration ceremonies since. To quote some of these we feel is better than our description:

On head stones:
'The price of peace with honour', 'As the day breaks and shadows flee away, RIP' ' He died for freedom' and 'Sunshine passes shadows fall, love and remembrance outlast all'.

Stories of a Turkish soldier holding a white flag and advancing to a wounded Australian soldier and carrying him to his commrades.

Trenches within metres of one another, during ceasefire both the Turks and Australians having turns to sing songs followed by applause, sharing food and cigarettes.

The deparate attempts to attack resulting in carnage.

The letters of soldiers in the museum read of a vivid description of the terrain yet the fear the soldiers felt.

The sombre experience was a reminder of the futility of war.

As described by our guide around Troy, the Anzac war was yet another Trojan war. It was a fight for access to the Dardenelles. That is of course unless you are of the belief that Troy is about a fight over a beautiful women named Helen.

Troy also opened our eyes to important historic events and archaeologists dream which has exposed 9 different cities on and near the one site.
Oh what a difference a passionate guide makes when visited these sites. He was so good we bought his book on Tory and on Gallipoli, A Turning Point. Of course a visit to Troy is not complete without a photo of the Trojan Horse.

After a night a Canakkale, our bus trip took us down the picturesque west coast of Turkey to Ayvalik where we will take to boat across to Lesbos today for a surprise party on Sunday.

PS It is official. We are returning home on 19 November arriving 1430!!!!!!