SHERLOCK HOLMES would consider this elementary knowledge, but for those of you out there who don’t enjoy the same powers of rational deduction, I have news for you. I’m back.
The Asian adventure is over (for now) and the prodigal son has returned. No more dahl, very little rice and even less haggling for me. You’ll be happy to hear I have been accepted back into the fold with no major upsets or resistance.
I’ve already had my first pint of Keo in the closest thing I have to a ‘local’ and eaten a pitta of souvlakia/sheftalia with friends. In a break with tradition, I have avoided speed cameras and sneaky policemen hiding behind bushes (fully-clothed of course). So, as you can see, situation normal…
Now, the first question everyone asks is: ‘Did you find yourself?’ I never lost myself. I know exactly where I am, usually within close distance of food, and did not traverse half of Asia over six months to find the ‘me within’ or ‘mini-me’ or anybody like me.
To borrow an old-fashioned sentiment, I went to see the world. And I saw a good part of it. I came closer to Indian culture, improving slightly my understanding of a people who make up one fifth of the world’s population. I learnt of the deep history of the place and the legacy of colonisation; the rift across the border with Pakistan; the great hospitality and inner warmth of both countries; the misguided myths surrounding Islam.
I experienced the intense green of Nepal’s countryside and its munificent white mountains; the view from the top (or at least half-way) of the Himalayas from both sides of the Indian-Nepal border; and last but by no means least, drank the fruit of the magnificent tropics of Malaysia.
I suppose there are some out there who still need to ask the question: Yeah, but did you enjoy it? And the answer is: YES, wholeheartedly. I had a lot of fun. Made great friends, some for life, others for a few days. Met many unforgettable characters: from the Bengali in Bandhavgarh who tried to convert me to Krishna Consciousness (might have had a chance but for the whole ‘sexual abstinence’ thing) to the taxi driver who insisted on being called ‘Captain’ and the English-speaking tour guide in Rajasthan who couldn’t speak English.
The moments were many. Obviously there is the landscape, so diverse and stunning, and very unlike anything in Cyprus or Europe for that matter. But it’s the people that really make travel worth it. They provide the quirky realities of the Tower of Babel. Yes, all human beings have so much in common, mostly their aims and objectives are similar but also on an emotional level, we are more alike than we like to think.
But, saying that, there are certain things we do in each country that is so unique and quite peculiar that the world is just comedy in a box, or a circle or sphere… Anyway, not to undermine the many woes of the world, I just want to cut the knot of my religious affiliations by stating here and now that I am more convinced than ever, heaven and hell are here on earth. For travel advice on both, please don’t be shy to email me.
There were also some difficult times of course, mostly related to health. Apart from pulling a ligament in my right leg while trekking, I acquired two separate skin infections on my hands and feet; chronic diarrhoea on three separate occasions, the latter finding me on a drip in the Accident and Emergency Unit of Delhi’s Max Hospital at two in the morning; picking up a dust infection on my fingertips; having an infected swollen ankle after Nepalese mosquito known to hang around donkey shit bit me; blood clots in the nose and dizziness in Ladakh after arriving by plane at 3,500m above sea level; and seven days of insomnia in Penang, Malaysia due to the very strong tablets I was taking for an amoebic infection.
Do I regret any of this? Not at all. The setbacks were minor and what doesn’t kill you does make you stronger. Rather than hiding in a room worried about oxygen levels in the air, better to step outside and deal with it, you get a better view.
The most beautiful thing about all my little illnesses was that at every hurdle someone or something turned up to make the situation so much better. A doctor showed up in the Himalayas to give advice on my leg, friends stood by me when I needed looking after, guest house owners acted like family when I thought I was alone, and insomnia in small bouts does wonders for filling one’s usually empty diary.
Where there dangers? Yes, though this is all relative, as my Indian friends like to remind me. First off, walking, talking, driving or thinking anywhere near a road in India can be seriously harmful to your health unless you turn native – which is what I eventually did.
When initially being driven around, I would squeeze out the words ‘Jesus Christ!’ through gritted teeth every five seconds. Slowly, this changed to just ‘Jesus’ every few minutes and then ‘jeez’ every near-death experience. By the end, I was driving around Delhi with one hand on the horn, the other out the window and the only words coming out my mouth were Hindi expletives [side note: India’s Tourism Ministry should really think about offering some kind of award to goras who drive in Delhi].
What else? Using Royal Nepal Airlines at a time when even the locals prefer costlier foreign airlines. The dodgy national carrier recently slaughtered two goats in an effort to improve its technical problems which keep getting the fleet grounded.
All bus rides through the mountains felt perilous, and the row of transparent vomit bags hanging from the seats did nothing to dispel this. Having to use a horse to go up and down steep muddy mountains under a Himalayan sky. Going to Pakistan as a journalist with an Indian lawyer at a time when the country’s military ruler was facing daily demonstrations by the legal profession and the Lal Masjid in Islamabad was under siege – especially after my visa application prompted a character background check by the intelligence services.
People sometimes accuse me of focusing on the negative, but it’s the opposite. I take great joy in listing these minor dangers and setbacks because if I had to, I would do it all again. That is the beauty of it. People stop themselves all the time from doing great things out of fear. In six months, the worst that happened was a little Delhi belly, all the rest created so many rich and positive experiences that I really wouldn’t change any of it, not even the bathroom tiles.
It also gave me the chance to see a different social, economic and political set up in four countries. How can you judge Cyprus for better or worse unless you have something to compare it to? I hope to relay some of my adventures in Lahore, Ladakh, Kuala Lumpur, Penang and Borneo in the coming weeks and even attempt some comparative analysis. But before signing off, I’d like to thank the people of India, Pakistan, Nepal and Malaysia. I found you and in doing so, understood a bit more about me.
