Chhath Puja..

We've been back in ole Banaras for a little over two weeks now and it feels like our last days living in this city are all too quickly racing away. We've been insanely busy packing up our home and selling off most of the possessions we've amassed over the years, trying to schedule in enough time do decent goodbyes with friends (which I feel we're failing at), trying to not wear out the kids with all the running around (which I feel we're failing dismally at) - and of course, trying to manage all of the above with a family who have all had the flu since arriving back in town.. It's been an exhausting couple of weeks!

But none-the-less, I'm trying to make the most of our last days here and thus trying to get the camera out as often as possible. And whilst those who know me know that mornings are not my most favourable time of the day I decided to get my sorry butt out of bed get and down to the Ghats before sunrise last week to witness Chhath Puja. 

Chhath Puja is a an ancient Hindu festival that centers around Surya (the sun god) in which participants offer puja and gifts to thank the Sun for sustaining life and to grant their wishes. Prosperity, healing, babies and other various wishes are all considered up for grabs over this four day festival in which devotional acts such as abstaining from drinking water, offering prayers at the rising and setting of the sun and prolonged standing in bodies of water are all part of package. Whilst men and women both participate in Chhat Puja, it does seem to be more of a Women's festival and with the noticeable increase of women outside of their homes it actually creates quite a different (and wonderful) atmosphere in and around this overwhelmingly man's world which is Banaras.

I hope you'll enjoy this little morsel from the feast of colour which is the Varanasi Ghats during Chaat Puja!

(And because I can't help myself I have to point out that the compression that occured when uploading these images has done some weird things with some of the colours and really brought out the vignettes. You'll have to be patient and forgive me this time round till I work out how to fix it.)

Fishing In The Post Apocalypse Mall..

The Mall On The Other Side Of The Apocalypse..

On one late Autumn night in March 2014, I was huddled up on a couch in Australia and killing time on my computer when I happen to stumble across a comment on a Facebook thread that would immediately crawl in under my skin and make itself at home. Someone had heard a rumor about an abandoned shopping mall somewhere in Asia that had flooded and subsequently become home to a large population of Koi and this person was looking to find clues to it's existence and possible whereabouts. I eagerly followed the thread hoping to learn more but found that as the comments slowly dried up I was left hanging with no concrete information, no photographic evidence, no first hand accounts.. nothing but an explosion in my mind at the thought of the possibilities and burning desire to find out if this place really existed. Cue the inevitable sleepless night that followed filled with the pounding of various word combinations into Google until finally I happened across a grainy, pixelated, low-res yet outstandingly exciting image and the name that accompanied it; New World Mall, Bangkok, Thailand.

As I poured through various websites and my eyes grew wider with excitement at the various images a thought suddenly hit me like a steam train and for a moment I held my breathe as the sound of my heart beating in my chest began resounding in my ears. As many of you know, after many years living in India we're relocating the beautiful mountains of Northern Thailand and so between mid-October and mid-November we doing some traveling, a lot of traveling, including journeying from Australia to Thailand, Thailand to India, India to Thailand (and then in December Thailand to Laos to Thailand.. don't ask!) and that during this time we will be passing through Bangkok on at least two different occasions. I furiously opened up my travel itinerary and there it was, a 17 hour stopover in Bangkok between connecting flights on our way to India! If I could track this place down and organise our timing just right, I might actually be able to step foot inside it for myself!! The thought immediately caused my heart rate to double.

New World Mall, Bangkok..

 
Seven months later and the thick, heavy, humid air was filling my lungs as I hurriedly pushed my way through the masses along the sidewalks of Bangkok. After much research I had managed to track down an old address online and so booked our accommodation close by, and with the help of Google Maps in my pocket I was feeling confident that I was where I was meant to be and that I was on my way to something special. Suffice to say that after 25 minutes of walking with a growing feeling of confusion a helpful police officer was able to enlighten me that I'd been walking in the complete wrong direction since my first step out of the guest house.. niiiiiiice.

Fast forward through the long walk back and I soon found myself on the street which I knew the Mall was just off. I walked the length of it three times but any indication of a giant abandoned mall filled with fish was nowhere to be seen. Most things I'd read online about the mall were now a couple of years old and one mentioned how it was highly likely to demolished and developed at any time as it was in a area of growth and gentrification; a growing sense of foreboding and impending letdown was upon me. 

... B&W Three Shot Panoramic ...

From what I could gather online, it seems that some years back a brand-spanking-new eleven story Mall was being built in downtown Bangkok which would go by the name of the New World Mall. The unforeseen Global Financial Crisis in 2007-8 meant that the funds to finish the project dried up and soon after the doors closed on a half finished Mall. But the story doesn't end there, oh no, the eleven story mall was being built in an area where the zoning regulations prohibit construction above the seventh floor and so when the council came in and knocked it back down to it's seventh floor they opted to not bother with putting a roof on. This one act of a leaving a completely exposed and roofless mall meant that when the monsoon rains arrived they fell into a perfect reservoir and over time came to completely fill the bottom floors. With Malaria and other Mosquito borne diseases being a problem throughout Thailand, the story goes that a local man released a handful of fish into the waters to eat the Mosquito larvae and as this was an artificial watercourse which therefore had no natural predators in it, the fish thrived and began to multiply.

But this is where I come back into the story. You see I was standing on the corner of a small and completely nondescript alleyway that was filled with plastic tables and chairs and one or two of street food vendours, the same alleyway I had already walked across the mouth of 3 times, when I I saw the Krungthai Bank logo, the landmark I was searching for, and realised I was precicely where I was suppose to be.

 
I began walking down the alley and could see that less than 20 meters a head of me the alley ran into a wall and became a dead end. Two-thirds of the way down on the right however I could see a large wire fence covered in green shade cloth running parallel to the wall, the type of fence you put up around the outside of construction sites when you want to keep people out, and smack bang in the middle of this was a gate with a handwritten Thai sign which even as a foreigner I could tell said 'Do Not Enter!' My heart began pounding harder and harder as I stepped closer but I wasn't able to even get within a couple of meters of the gate before an elderly Thai man grabbed my arm and regaled me with the universal hand gestures for 'You can't go in there.'

I asked as politely as I could (currently being a non-Thai speaker this wasn't quite so easy) if I could just pop my head in quickly but he kept waving me away. I know the Thai word for 'Fish' and so I pointed to the gate and said "Plā" and the old man and his friend nodded vigorously yet with even more vigor they waved me away. He picked up a rather large piece of concrete from the floor and gestured that it had fallen from the roof, he then repeatedly tapped the top of his head - now after three years in India I've gotten pretty flippin good at charades (you should see me trying to ask my neighbors if they've seen my wife's bra after it's blown off the clothes line on our roof) and so I knew he was telling me that it wasn't safe for me to go in because  the roof/walls/giant pieces of concrete were liable to fall on my head. I appreciated his concern but yet found myself standing at the crossroads in which one direction meant to walk away and miss out on potentially seeing something amazing whilst the other was to stay and try and change the minds of these immovable objects/gentlemen without having any grasp on the language at all. I opted for the latter.

I began by using the few Thai phrases I knew; "Hello, my name is...," "I am .... years old," "I come from ...." etc. etc. etc. But it had little effect. I dug deeper into my memory bank and came back with "I like Thai Food," then I smiled real big. Both gentleman smiled politely and waved me away. I had pretty much exhausted my repertoire of Thai sentences and so was force to reverted to single words. "Fish. Buffalo. Monk. Temple. Bottle Water. Airport. Left. Man. Traditional Hats." That slightly sideways quizzical look began taking over the old mans face so I continued; "Child. Right. Little. Novice Monk. Elephant. Symbols. Snake... Pad Thai!!" The corner of the old man's mouth began to tremor and slowly raised into a smile. Success!!
  

First Floor; Women's Hosiery..

He began chuckling and so I kept on repeating my random assortment of Thai words and he turned slowly and led me up and through the gate. From the street side of the gate the opaque green cloth obscured all vision of what was on the other side but within one step through the gate the attached photos were all I could see. It was astounding. There was no long walk, no scrambling through tunnels, just one step through a wire gate and I was standing in the place that had been dominating my mind for months on end. What's more, literally millions upon millions of people would pass within a handful of meters of this place each year and yet the vast majority would never know it existed. To be so fortunate was rather humbling.
 
I'm not sure of what breed of fish they were (fairly sure they weren't Koi - at least not a breed that I'm aware of) but goodness me they were huge and numerous! Hundreds and thousands of amazing dark Blackish-Blues and Albinos splashing around in this cavernous underground wonderland. And when the old man began hitting a metal pipe that protruded from the water with a stone the fish turned and almost uniformly began swimming towards us whereby he reached into a bag and threw a mass of pellets to them which they swarmed over and devoured in an instant. I whipped out my camera and began shooting in what was a massively tricky lighting situation, and though deep down I'd love to go back and improve on these images, I'm happy enough to have come away with a handful of keepers. The old man began pointing at the roof above me and I could see where large slabs of concrete had become dislodged and fallen all over the floor, within 2 or 3 minutes since first entering he again he grabbed my arm and this time I knew it was the right time for me to leave.

All in all it was one of the more exciting and surreal moments of my life. When I burst back into the guesthouse and couldn't stop my lips from pouring forth the longer (and exceptionally more boring) account to Wild Flower (but she's a great woman and an even better wife so has learned how to put up with my ramblings) and I was riding the high for days. So if you ever find yourself in Bangkok and want to hunt down one of the most amazing places on earth make sure to get yourself to Banglumphu Junction on Samsen Road (walking distance from the main backpacker district of Khao San & Ram Buttri Road), find the Krungthai Bank (big blue sign with a white eaglish-hawkish-birdish logo) then keep your eyes pealed for the small and easily missable Soi Kraisi, turn right into it and look for the green netting a stones throw away on your right. The only other advice; just make sure to have your list of completely random and completely unrelated Thai words at the ready.


* Dedicated to my ole boy Ragnar - It's not Kolmanskop, but it's getting close!

Home Is Any.. Where?

iPhone's panoramic photo mode holding it's own..

For a while now I've been a tad worried. Everyone we know in our soon-to-be hometown has been telling us that unless we're really quick about it we're simply not going to find a place to live. The unofficial real estate guy we'd been emailing while we were in Australia was really putting the pressure on us to say yes to renting one of his places and I was hoping he was just trying to pressure us so he could make a sale, but as we were soon to find out, he was being legit.

The flights to Thailand were fine; long, tiring with the little ones, hard work moving around with most of our worldly possessions packed into one suitcase per person, but ultimately fine. The subsequent 3 hour minibus ride up the mountain and through the now famous 762 twists and turns that lay along the road to Pai were nauseating, but also relatively fine. Yet when it came time to get into the house hunting, that's when I really started to feel the ugly feeling of stress rising up from the inner most parts of my being.

We rented a motorbike and spent a couple of days riding all around the countryside trying to find anything that would be suitable for our family but kept coming back with empty hands. We checked out a couple of places that proved to be way too small for our family of four, one that could have worked out well in terms of living space but ultimately was so far out of town and in the middle of nowhere that it would have left Wild Flower stranded most of her life as she doesn't drive or ride a motorbike (yet) and so wouldn't be able to get anywhere, and the second last place we checked out was literally just two separate and small bedrooms on a second story with an empty space underneath. Whilst these rooms shared a wall, that wall didn’t provide a door or any other access between them and so you had to walk out the door on the left side of the building, down the stairs, underneath the building, up the stairs on the other side and into the second room via the right side of the building! Oh, and the stairs were completely exposed with no railings, perfect for my 18 month old and my threenager. Gah! After walking out of that pad the unofficial real estate fella looked me in the eye and said "listen, I really don't mean to pressure you, but this is all the houses I know of, if you don't take it, and soon, I can almost guarantee you that by this time next week there won't be a single place left."

That night I lay in bed trying to not to let my mind wander into what life would like look if we had to live in that place. In previous years we could have made it work, if Wild Foot wasn't such an energy packed danger-loving little guy then sure, in those circumstances we could make it work, if we were absolutely desperate and simply had no other options then *sigh,* what else could we do? We'd have to make it work. But our family is still pretty frazzled (14 months with a baby that didn't sleep coupled with unexpectedly having to move countries at pretty short notice will do that to a person) and our desire to put down roots and have somewhere to really call "home," a place where the kids can play and I can plant gardens and we have enough space to actually have more than 4 people in a room at any one time is an emotion that's burning white hot within my whole tribe.

So it was in that head space that we hoped aboard our motorbike the next morning and set off to check out what was literally the last place on the list. We crossed the bridge at the edge of town and turned onto a small road that I'd never paid any attention to before and proceeded to follow it around the corner and behind a row of trees. The road narrowed down into a raised dirt path that snaked along between the gloriously green rice fields, only weeks away from the harvest, and within a minute I turned to Wild Flower and confessed that I feared we'd taken the wrong road. There was nothing further along that road to be seen; nothing but open spaces, spectacular views of the mountains and a myriad of green. As the path was too narrow to swing the bike around easily I started easing off the throttle and began to simply enjoy the moment; I was in Thailand, my gorgeous children were sandwiching me on the bike, my ridiculously beautiful wife was hugging my back, the warm sun was shining on my face and the clean mountain air was filling my lungs (a real rarity for us these past years!). I completely forgot about all my housing woes and simply breathed in the moment and thanked God for this incredible part of his creations.. It was about then that Wild Flower saw it.

That's right! We saw the sign for The Pork Healing Center! But what's even better than that I hear you ask? Well the only thing that could possibly outdo that would be the house that was behind the sign, the one in the top image; the free standing, two bedroom, fully furnished, fireplace wielding, semi-outdoor bathroom with bathtub brandishing, giant second story veranda with uninterrupted views of the mountains offering, local farmers market neighbouring, massive back/side/front yards with pet Ducks grazing, house that as of yesterday morning we can start calling HOME!!

We're still in transit mode.. next week we'll be heading back to India to pack up our previous yet also current "home" (it's odd I know) and so won't actually move in here for another month and are therefore still feeling far off from being settled, but today we're reveling in just how incredibly blessed we feel! The last 12 months have been hard, really hard, easily the hardest of my little life, but looking into the future I'm excited and positive and really learning to trust in my Creator for His guidance as I take each new and ultimately wild step. So Sawat-dii Khrap and Welcome friends, to the next chapter in the (hopefully) soon to be more settled story of me!

Public Enemy #1..

..The One & Only Govinda Baba..

Like most kids growing up in the West, at some point during my childhood I desperately wanted a pet monkey. From cartoons to movies, advertisements to the much loathed Totally Wild, they all seem to present a single unified message; ‘Monkeys = Fun!’ So it’s no surprise that when you first start travelling in Asia and end up in a place like Banaras where monkeys are as ubiquitous as birds, it all feels a little bit magical!

They’re in the trees, clambering along the power lines, jumping from building to building and yes, occasionally you will be squatting in the bathroom only to look up and see them watching you through the window as you go about your ‘business.’

Illusions Of Bathroom Privacy

But there comes a time when the honeymoon period comes crashing to an end and you begin to realise that they are less like the bunch of smiling, fun loving, scat singing (King Louie style) creatures in the tv dreams you’d been sold in your youth, but in fact are much closer to a pack of savage wild dogs that are brazen enough to invade your home (as we discovered one day when we foolishly left the door unlocked), become highly territorial when in heat and most terrifyingly have the advantage of being able to climb - thus giving them the high ground advantage from which to attack you from. In hindsight, perhaps seeing the Wicked Witch of the West shriek “Fly my pretties, Fly!” should have tempered my childhood illusions with something much closer to the horrifying truth!

No better example of this can I think of than the day I was leading the first group Meditations of the 2012-13 season at the River Ashram. It was monsoon and still extremely hot and humid but most of our long term community members were back in town. We’d shut down the Ashram during the hot season and most of us had taken off to the foot hills of the Himalayas to escape the brutal daily temperature highs of between 45-49°C/113-120°F… it’s worse than it sounds.. and so the Ashram had been unoccupied for almost 4 months, or so we thought.

Being the first meditation for the season we expected only a small turnout and so by the time we reached 10 or so people I got the ball rolling and we began the session. I was leading an Aggredior Divina meditation (translated from Latin as ‘Approach (the) Divine’) in which we usually spend the first 10 or so minutes in silent contemplation on our surroundings - which on this morning proved particularly poignant as it wasn’t long into our silence that I began feeling the uneasy sensation of being watched.

I opened one eye and quietly scanned the courtyard. Nothing. Just our circle of sweet hairy travellers from the far reaches of the globe, now blissing out in the early morning heat. I closed my eye and continued to focus on the meditation.

Minutes later I again felt the sensation of being watched, but this time I could also hear its source; a sound I’d come to know all too well, Bundar (Hindi for ‘monkey’). I opened one eye and looked up where sure enough, in those braches high above our heads sat two juvenile Bundar, quizzically watching the goings on down below. As they were only young and so high up I closed my eye, tried to refocus myself and offered the next instruction to the group.

Minutes later I heard them again but this time the sound felt close, too close. I quickly opened my eyes and was startled to see that they had descended from the tree and were now perched directly above us in the shade cloth which hung only a meter or so above our heads. Not only that, but they had managed to pull the seams apart and were poking their heads through the mesh to get a better look at these hairy foreigners who were quietly sitting below. Being only youngsters I figured that they posed little threat to our group and so was happy to continue to the meditation, hoping that at the very least they would keep their distance and do so quietly – yet as with most things in Banaras, it wasn’t long before I realised I was wrong.

What would have proved helpful to know at that time was that in the previous months while the ashram grounds were vacated a wandering family of Bundar had stumbled into the perfect sanctuary to set up shop and raise their young. In the eyes of these newly acquired tenants, we had basically walked into their house, put our feet up on their coffee table and made ourselves at home. Cue the inevitable turf war.

A loud metallic twang rang out through the courtyard and this time I opened both eyes and there he was; the Alpha Male, standing tall and strong on top of the metal staircase, his scar covered face jousting towards us with fierce jolts whilst baring his teeth in a display of unbridled aggression. Worse than this, he’d brought backup. Along the wall behind him stood another 5 or so Bundar which began to follow his lead, and as I turned my head to check the surroundings I discovered a further 5 or so perched atop the wall behind me. We were the victims in a textbook pincer manoeuvre, and seconds later they began to descend.

I looked around our group and immediately noticed that every person who had lived in Banaras for more than a couple of years had their eyes open and was fully aware of the encroaching madness, yet every short term traveler (obviously still in the honeymoon phase) was still silent, still with closed eyes and crossed legs and blissfully unaware of what was about to transpire. I breathed deeply and spoke loud and clear “as I count backwards from 5, slowly open your eyes and feel your awareness returning to the circle.”

“5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1 … NOW RUN!!”

In the shock and confusion of the following moments we scrambled to collect our possessions and retreat inside, yet the doorway closest to our group also happened to stand dangerously close to the striking range of the Alpha Male. Immediately Govinda Baba, our dearly loved 65 year old Canadian Sadhu, sprang into action. He grabbed the beautifully decorated talking stick from the centre of the circle, charged at the spiral staircase and like a crazed medieval knight wielding a broad sword swung wildly at the Alpha Male who dodged each blow with ever increasing hostility.

The Alpha Male growled at Govinda. Govinda growled back.

The Alpha Male lunged towards Govinda. Govinda thrust him back.

The Alpha Male tried again to advance. Govinda stood his ground.

As I shepherded the last traveller through the doorway and into safety I turned back to witness the sight of our white bearded, orange robed, tough as guts friend going full combat with an Alpha Male Bundar so that the rest of us dirty hippies could have safe passage. Having held back the encroaching tide of Bundar just long enough for us to clamber to safety he turned on he heals and hot footed it indoors with the rest of us – the pack of Bundar not far behind. We slammed the door shut, breathed in our safety, and burst into laughter. 

The sight of those blissfully unaware hippies, the throngs of invading Bundar descending from on high and dear ole Govinda Baba going toe to toe for twelve rounds with the Alpha Male will forever remain one of my most joyful, awe inspiring and lets face it, utterly ridiculous memories which to this day still causes me laugh out loud whenever it enters my mind.

So if you’re planning on travelling Asia any time soon and find yourself reading this and thinking “But monkeys aren’t really all that bad,” I’ll simply leave you with the advice that my ole boy Oody gave me when I was still fresh off the boat in Banaras;

“Just wait till you have your first bad experience with them… Just. You. Wait!”

The 'Best Of' Series..

..Our soon to be homeland..

As many of you already know, due to a totally unexpected turn of events our days calling the great city of Banaras ‘Home’ are soon coming to an end. This doesn’t mean that our traveling adventures are over, far from it, starting in less than 3 weeks we’ll be embarking on a whole new set of crazy adventures as we seek to establish a new home and a new life for ourselves in the mountains of Northern Thailand. That’s right.. we’ll be going back to square one in a new culture, in a new location, in a new community, in a new language.. my heart is beating faster just thinking about it!!

The necessity to move came as quite a shock and as with most unforeseen circumstances that result in loss, it causes you to step back and reflect on your life and your movements over the past years. One of the ways I’ve been processing this period has been to trawl back through the terabytes of photos I’ve amassed during our travels which has brought to mind a number of truly beautiful memories - some of which I’d all but forgotten. On more than one occasion I’ve found my heart aching in my chest and a strange salty liquid amassing in corner of my eyes as I’ve reminisced about the places, friendships and experiences that I’d expected to continue being regular features in my life but am now faced with the sad reality of soon having to say good bye to. Through processing all this joy mingled with sadness, it’s prompted me to start a month long series of post which will essentially be my “Best Of…” series which kicked off last week with post #1 – I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony. They won’t necessarily be the greatest moments, or the worst, or even the most exciting, but when I let my mind and heart open up to reflect on these past years this series reflects those memories which I treasure most and seem to force their way to the front most often.

I hope you’ll enjoy catching a glimpse into the life and times of our little tribe over these past years as we go about wrapping up this truly wild and life changing chapter of our story.

I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony..

Our Rootop

Our first home in Banaras was the ultimate hippy pad! It was once the servant's quarters for a rich family (the landlord would swear black and blue that it was previously owned by the King of Nepal) and was just two small rooms that were built on the rooftop of a 3 story building. It was hot, dark, cramped, had no privacy, no hot water, no silence, no shower, no way to keep the dirt out, a squat toilet, you had to walk through the landlord's house to get to the front door, it was infested with rats.. ok, so essentially it was a hovel, but it was our hovel, in the city we'd spent years dreaming about living in, and we loved it. It was close to everything, overlooked an ancient religious site that was potentially thousands of years old and had one of the most amazing views of the city! And out of all the mixture of memories we have from our time living in that most wonderful of homes, one most definitely stands out above the rest; our landlord.

His name is Tiwari Ji, but we affectionately just called him "Tooza." He would love to tell you just how important he was and would remind me on an almost weekly basis that Brahmin was not just the top caste, but a Super Caste! I'd find myself half expecting him to finish that sentence by busting out a cape that he'd been hiding under his Lungi! But he and his family were a truly wonderful way to introduce us into Banarsi life and culture and the following three episodes are some of my favourite memories from those early days in Banaras that will give you a taste of the learning curve that lay before me!

Bucket Bath Bliss

 

Episode 1 - Mawiage Is Wot Bwings Us Togever

One day I was walking up the stairs to the rooftop from where we could access our house. As I reached the top I saw our landlord and his twenty-five year old son crouched down in the middle of the balcony busily working away at something that I couldn't quiet see. As I crossed the floor I saw that they were huddled over a pot plant, some scissors, a few rolls of sparkling tinsel and some tape and were busily cutting up everything into smaller bits and pieces. I awkwardly Namaste'd them and proceeded to ask what they were up to and the Son replied that it was a special day because Tulsi was getting married and they were helping her to prepare. 

In my mind, I knew that Tooza only had two sons and that one of them was already married, and also knowing that in Banaras it's not really the done thing for men to have interaction with women who aren't direct relatives, so as far as I could see there was really only one explanation.

"Oh, how exciting! Is Tulsi your cousin?" I asked.

Both men immediately stopped what they were doing. The son's jaw gaped open and he looked sideways at me with that kind of expression that makes you feel like you've just said the stupidest thing in the history of mankind. Tooza rolled his eyes and turned his back on me. The son just began to shake his head.

After standing there for what felt like an eternity with the overwhelming feeling that I had unanimously been voted the biggest fool in the country, I tried again.

"So Tulsi's not your cousin?" I asked.

"No," the son replied. "Tulsi is the pot plant."  



(If like me you needed an explanation, try here)

...Home...

Episode 2 - The Illusion Of Privacy

It was very early one morning when Wild Flower asked me if I'd pop out to a local dukan ('shop') to pick up some milk as we had run dry and our fledgling Chai addiction was demanding to be placated. The sun had crossed the horizon yet still the grey tinged darkness refused to flee and so from out of our windows the world appear glum, wet and hazy. I grabbed a bag and made my way to our front door where I sat down and leaned back against it to put my boots on.

But the very moment my back touched the door something caught my ear! In an instant I was reefed out of the illusion of privacy, and sat motionless with the knowledge that I was not alone.. and I listened. The sound was close, very close, too close. And it was repetitive; just a soft sloshing, slapping, moist sound, right near my ears. On all fours I silently turned and faced the door, my nose just inches from the wood, and knew that someone, or something, was on the other side.

Out the window above I could see the awning which overhung the front of our house by a couple of feet but nothing else, and so slowly, very slowly, I raised myself up higher and set a trajectory for the window. 

As the crown of my head reached the lower limits of the window I held my breath. I was still new to this country, still confounded daily by almost everything I saw, still aware that I had no idea what that sound was and therefore absolutely anything could have been waiting for me on the other side. 

As my eyes finally crested the window sill I peered down into the chasm below, and there he was, in all his glory; dear ole Tooza! Our elderly, bald, bushy eared landlord, sitting in the only stream of sunlight that just so happened to be falling upon our front door step, wearing nothing but a loin cloth and rubbing cooking oil all over his body. 

The soft sloshing, slapping, moist sound proceeded to eminate from our doorstep for further 25minutes.. Suffice to say our stomachs went Chai free that morning.

...Sweet Home...

Episode 3 - I Saw Your Nipples On The Balcony

It had been a busy morning in the Thundersong household as we had a big day planned at the River Ashram and Wild Flower and I had spent most of the morning hurriedly going about getting everything prepared. Some things were coming together well (ie; the pots of amazing food Wild Flower was whipping up to dish out over lunch), other things however.. not so well (ie; the sterilizing of the rubber tops of Little Feather's drink bottles which were accidently forgotten about and left in a pot of boiling water, which when the water evaporated away left the rubber to simply melt in the pot, thus filling the house with the charming and toxic aroma of charred rubber. We literally had to put the melted remains on the other side of the building just to get away from the smell!).

At some point during the flurry we put the last touches on our preparations and were finally ready to go. I put on my backpack and grabbed the large pot of food, Wild Flower hoisted Little Feather up into her sling and together we began our decent into our landlord's house which we always had to walk through whenever we wanted to enter or exit our home. Now that might sound a strange set up, and it was, but after a while you do get a tad more used to having to always walk through someone's home and when you're in a rush instead focus on how to get away with the least amount of small talk possible. But there is glaring problem here; Tooza loves small talk!

Every morning he would race to greet us and the first words out of his mouth every.single.day. would be "I heard your babu crying X number of times last night" *head wobble.* Now if you're a parent I'm sure you can imagine how joyful it makes you feel when someone says such things to you. I would occasionally find myself replying quiet sarcastically that because our daughter was in the same bed as us that we heard her crying X+1 times, but mostly I would refrain and simply return the *head wobble* and ask how his day was going.

But something different happened on this morning. As I stepped off at the bottom of the stairs he raced to greet us in his usual way but this time he did not greet us with his usual story, this time he began with a question, a question which will forever be seared in recessess of my mind! He looked past me to Wild Flower who was only a couple stairs behind and said "No milk for Babu this morning? I saw your nipples on the balcony."

My jaw hit the floor. 

My eyes grew twice their normal size.

My brain exploded. 

As I stood there too dumbstruck to say anything Wild Flower reached the base of the stairs and stood beside me. Without missing a beat she calmly and matter-of-factly replied "Oh yes, I tried to clean them in boiling water... but I burnt them."

I grabbed at the handrail to steady myself from falling.

I tried to force out words; "Did you just..?! But he said..?! How can it..?! What the..?!?!" And for a moment it seemed most plausible that I'd fallen into an alternate universe in which this scenario was so common place that people could discuss it freely whilst being completely nonchalant about it.

But then it dawned on me; Little Feather's drink bottles! The rubber tops (or 'nipples' if you will) that we'd burnt and put outside to get away from the smell..


This moment still haunts me!



We may have moved a number of times since those days back in 2011, but our first home/hovel in India and our dearest Tooza, have captured a place in our hearts and left an indelible mark on our lives which we'll never forget! ...No matter how hard I might try!

That Which Locks Most Dread..

There is a silent terror that lurks in the back of every dreadlocked mind, and indeed the back of your mind is where you want it to stay! Because when that silent terror moves from simply lurking in the back of your mind to lurking on the top of your head, well, that's when you know you're in real trouble! 

We recently were enjoying some time away with our dear friends and whilst as far as we adults were concerned it was just a sweet time of filling up the love bank between us, something far more sinister was taking place between our children. At some point along the lines a silent and unknown exchange took place which would bring our deepest terror alive and into our home. Does this terror have a name I hear you ask? Why indeed it does.. Pediculus humanus capitis! That good ole blood sucking obligate extoparasite of humans... otherwise known as Nits!

Now maybe that doesn't sound too bad to you; perhaps you can remember getting them at school when you were a young or have already had to deal with you own kids getting them and so you went to the shops and picked up a bottle of something off the shelf and it stopped them dead in their tracks... but alas, you don't have dreads.. because those who do know that in dreads they are almost impossible to kill! Your locks are so tight that they have plenty of places to dig in and hide, and head lice brushes like the one pictured a little below, forget about it! I have literally met people who have had to shav their entire head, dreadies and all, after years of growth and maintenance all because they couldn't get rid of their nits and the scratching began driving them crazy. So if you're a regular person (by which I mean a poor soul without a glorious mop of Dreads) then this post is for you, so that you can sympathise with us in our terror and feel that weightiness of that which locks most dread!!

 

Day 1:   You've just put on a friend's hat/you've cuddled up close with your child whose come home from a day at school/you've laid in a bed that usually sleeps someone else/you've taken part in any number of other such seemingly innocuous activities and it's happened. A lone, solitary female Nit has found her way in amongst your magnificent head of locks.. and she has decided to stay. After cruising up and down the block a few times she decides on a location that's near to the local amenities and services and begins laying eggs - just like the Mother Alien in Aliens (which if you haven't seen yet then you are truly missing out on one of the all-time action classics). Whats interesting is that at this point you are continuing to go about your day in your normal fashion, completely oblivious to the invading species that has set up shop right next to your brain and is literally there to suck your blood! So whilst you enjoy your coffee and watch repeats of the Bachelor (not mentioning any names here *cough cough Wild Flower cough cough*) somewhere between 3 and 8 eggs are being laid right on the top of your head.

As an interesting side note and something which I only discovered during our recent ordeal, 'nits' is in fact only the name of the egg. What emerges from the egg/nit is actually called a Louse, but considering that throughout my entire life I and everyone I have known has called the adult Louse 'Nits' - I shall unashamedly continue to call them so!

Day 6:   You've continued on about your business this week completely unaware that your new neighbour is currently busy finishing up the last touches of her nursery and making sure she's happy with her birth photographer. Unlike you, she is fully aware that today is the day that will mark the homebirth of between 3 and 8 of her darling little angels. Now whilst the addition of 3-8 extra nits doesn't seem like much (and rightly so as you're still unlikely to feel anything), Mother Nit hasn't just been sitting around in her rocking chair knitting booties and complaining about stretchmarks, swollen ankles and the strains of being a single parent, oh no, she's kept herself busy this week by laying up to an additional 48 eggs, all up and down the block!

Day 8:   Your life still hasn't changed in any significant ways. Sure you might have the occasional urge to have a quick scratch, but it's nothing serious and you think nothing of it. But down on the microscopic scene things are progressing rapidly. The babies that were birthed just two days earlier have graduated from primary school and undergone their first moult whilst Mother Nit has busied herself laying up to an additional 64 eggs.

Useless Waste Of Money!!

Day 11:   Things haven't seemed to slow down in Locktown as the first high school graduation and second Moult takes place for the first generation of nits born on your scalp. But for you, the realisation is starting to emerge that you've been scratching your head a little more than usual and that occasionally at night, and particularly behind your ears, it's been itchy like all hell, but unless you happen upon a chance sighting you're more likely to just chalk it up to some dandruff.

Day 16:   Today marks a fairly significant moment in the War Of The Curls. Mother Nit who was once that trailblazing pioneer and explorer of new worlds has grown frail throughout the years (well, days..) and now lays quietly in her bed surrounded by her loved ones. Without any fanfare or commotion she quietly and very peacefully slips away from this world to enter into that great big hairball in the sky. Her first borns, filled with grief, shed their skin in a ceremonial manner for the final time and emerge as fulll grown Adult Lice (and then it starts getting all weird and Deliverance like as they start making out with their siblings). 

Wild Flower's Experiment; The Manhattan Project

Day 18:   The mobile phones of every midwife begins producing a cacophony of ringtones as all of the Female first generation natives of your head have finished their final Lamaze class and begin laying eggs. And this dear friends, is what they will continue to do every.single.day. until they die some 16 or so short days later. You, on the other hand, have become aware that something is up as you can't go more than a couple of hours without feeling the overwhelming need to scratch like a crazy man (or woman). A detailed exploration of your roots reveals the worst fears have come to fruition; you have nits. You explore the scalps of those in your home, they are also colonised. As the full implications of this begin to dawn on you and the realization of your Leprosy-esk status in society sinks in, you start scrambling to get your hands on something, anything that might do away with these vile invaders but soon you come crashing back down to reality with the revelation that the only product you know actually works on dreads needs to be imported from the UK! Salvation, you realise, is almost a month away! 

You walk aimlessly in the backstreets and lane ways.. you remove your infected clothing and don sackcloth and ashes.. you sit in the dust.. you weep!

Delacet: Salvation In A Bottle

Day 31:   It's been one month since the invasion and colonisation first began. The beachhead was formed, reinforcements arrived, supply lines were established and a highly sophisticated network of trenches now keeps the invaders mobile and protected. You are tired and weary. Your scalp is itchy, really itchy, always, constantly and unceasingly itchy! You find yourself randomly yelling insults at inanimate objects, but you tell yourself it's ok, because deep down you know it was really the bookshelf's fault, not yours. The various store bought potions and lotions may have worked on your children but they've failed dismally at stopping the flow of opposition on your mane. 

At that moment you feel an icy chill shoot down your spine because you crunched the numbers (yeah, I really did!) and realise that you could potentially have as many as 16 new nits born on you that day, another 24 currently undergoing their first moult, a further 40 on their second moult, a devastating 128 full grown adults set up homes, and a catastrophic grand total of 4,352 eggs that have been laid on you since the invasion first began!! You run to the calendar where the dark clouds of dread envelope you as you realise that you'll still be waiting another 18 days before the postman arrives with your cure. You slump into a deep depression and drag your tired feet back into the lounge room where you open the floodgates and let the bookshelf know what you really think of him!  

Day 33:   Your significant(ly more attractive) other is hunched over the laptop but in the flash of an eye stands bolt upright and exclaims that she's had a brain wave! She's in too much of an excited fluster to explain anything but instead disappears in a puff of smoke only to return an hour later with a bag of groceries which you assume are for dinner, but they're not for dinner.. and considering the bag only contained Apple Cider Vinegar, Coconut Olive and Cling Wrap you're in no way disappointed. She disappears into the bathroom and you follow. She lays out the plan and it rocks your socks off! It turns out that the active ingredient in the product your still waiting to arrive is basically Vinegar, and so by some fairly liberal application of Apple Cider Vinegar (which essentially strips the Louse of their ability to grip tightly to you) followed by Coconut Oil (which is apparently used in plenty of hair products these days but has the added benefit of suffocating your attackers!!) then wrapping your head in glad wrap for the evening (to hold it all in place as well as attract members of the opposite sex.. so hot..) you launch another offensive against the ever encroaching hoard!

Day 49:   Your initial blitz worked! And even though nothing can kill the eggs without also taking out your hair follicles as collateral damage, on the morning after your assault every moving thing atop your resplendent head was dead! In the days since you deployed your version of the Manhattan Project you have felt signs that you're on the verge of acceptance back into the broader community. The contamination warning signs and quarantine tape hasn't quite been removed from the front of your house but you've noticed birds have begun to perch in your backyard once more. Sure people still won't come near you, but it's a start. Now even though the eggs that were laid previous to the initial fallout have continued to hatch, none of them have reached maturity and thus are unable to reproduce, but it's then that you hear it! Your heart begins to race, your palms get sweaty, the knocks continue to echo down the hall as you race to the front door and there he stands! The postman, wearing a Hazmat suit and baring a package from the UK that's addressed to you! You grab it, race to the bathroom, and breath deeply; for it is there that you will make your stand! It is here you will deliver the final blow! 

Delacet had arrived. The war is over. You return to society. You are Nit free.

My final word to you today is this; and be honest now, just how many times did you catch yourself scratching your head while reading this post?