Eating beef bacon in Bahrain

Well the best laid plans do sometimes unravel! There’s a check list to go through with some pocket and bag patting before departure. Visa, passport and tickets check. There’s something I still don’t really understand about airlines, and it’s their overbooking policy. So on my first leg of my flight from Heathrow two passengers needed to be removed, which then caused a long delay in rescheduling the flights take off slot. So there’s already tight timing  getting the connecting flight from Bahrain and we miss it, or so we’re told (as it was still  boarding when we landed!!!). Anyway a load of us are bumped off the flight and are put up in a centrally located Bahrain hotel resulting in an annoying addition to the trip. I had train tickets booked and plans ...

Talking to a fellow passenger from Totnes, who’s a human rights lawyer, interesting says technically were being held against our will, as our contract to get that flight has been broken. So being a hostage in a plush hotel in Bahrain, I ended up eating beef bacon for breakfast with my fellow hostages. 

White madam

There are so many remnants of the Empire still left, and an auto rickshaw driver referred to me in conversation with a temple worshipper as ‘Gori Madam’, which translates to ‘white madam’.

As with most destinations, you choose your style of travel according to your wallet, but often in India you can easily dip into 5 star luxury, stay in an old heritage place or just pop in to eat at the best hotel in town. Here you get an interesting glimpse into old Raj life.

Par Rumpa pum par

It was a lovely experience to go to midnight mass in the Portuguese old city of Dui. A choir assembled at the front of the church and accompanied by a guitar belted out jazzy songs. One of the Christmas carols we sang I’m sure was the little drummer boy, to which in very high notes we had to sing the chorus including Par rumpa pum par.

 It was amazing to go to a mass, as we spend so much time in Hindu temples and it’s nice to see something more familiar, which in the same vain seems so austere compared to local temples. We sat in front of a couple we had met earlier at sunset point, who had travelled to Dui to go to church. The service ended around 1.30am and we had to cadge a lift from a family in the congregation, as the streets were full of barking dogs, unwilling to let us share the sidewalks. 

They’re more English than the English

At Palitana we stayed in an amazing old Palace, where the old great uncle had once taught Edward how to play polo. You get a glimpse into the old Raj, and an unfortunate thing is the removing of the wonderful spices which make Indian food so amazing, to be replaced with bland vegetables fit for an English palette! 

You are meant to come here

In Ahmedabad we got up early to join the heritage walk, only to be taken to the wrong Swaminarayan temple. Too late to join the walk we meet an Anglo-Indian woman who talked to us about the temple and then we join her husband for a free breakfast, which is offered at many temples. Her take was that we were meant to come there, so we went with the flow and followed her recommendation to head to the nearby Swaminarayan ashram, the same Hindu sect of the Neasden temple, the largest Indian temple outside of India. Escaping the city chaos was welcome and the ashram was a tranquil oasis, and we were the only westerners in sight!  Very different from other ashrams I’ve visited, as the devout were all Indian. 

Oh no I’m a married man

Affection is not outwardly demonstrated here in India. You don’t see married couples walking arm in arm, but men sometimes do walk hand in hand! So as an outsider you have to be very culturally sensitive and when greeting friends or saying farewell you dampen down your contact. On saying goodbye to Kamlesh and his family I made sure that hugs were given in the privacy of the house, and when I went to hug his brother in law he declined saying he was a married man. It’s interesting to realise that it’s a real cultural exchange staying with people and we all definitely learn from each other.  

Why the tiny cups?

We English love a good cup of tea, and a masala chai becomes an everyday treat here. Full of ginger or cardamom the masala chai is delicious, but there’s always a catch .... it’s always served in a tiny cup, leaving you wanting more! Same issue even in someone’s home .... why the tiny cups?