I arrived in Thailand at 7am after 12 hours in transit from India, via a brief stint in Colombo’s departure gate corridors, which offered me some very welcomed free wifi. As my taxi drove along the highway towards Bangkok, I marvelled at the cleanliness of everything. But something was a tad confusing. Where were the beggars waiting to pounce at the traffic lights? Where was the disordered chaos of cars and people and slowly chewing cows? Getting Asian culture shock……
When I casually composed a bucket list for my travels through India, my favourite and most ambitious hope by far was to attend an Indian wedding. But I didn’t just want to poke my head round the door of a stranger’s matrimonials; in my heart of hearts, I lusted after a personal invitation, and all the joyous trappings that would accompany it. But I was pretty sure it would never happen. Even though thousands of young Indians get married every…
“And now, please activate the eleven pyramids sequence…” The cross-legged man at the front of the little room spoke quietly, eyes closed. I arranged the crystals and rudraksha beads as best I could on the plastic-covered mandala that lay beside my similarly crossed legs. The flies buzzed happily, completely ignoring the sacred space we had created with our measured breaths and the flowing energy coming from our palms. The most advantageous of the winged things attempted settling on the face of the girl lying…
“Make friends with your toes! Remember, there is no freedom in conflict! Now, hug the pillar and spread your legs!” Strange words to hear, certainly. Stranger still to hear them echoing around a green roofed circular hut at 7am , surrounded by bricks, bolsters, belts and a group of straining Westerners, all hell-bent on not breaking their friendly little toes. A huge black dog stepped daintily from sticky mat to sticky mat, yawning audibly and rubbing his head against the lean legs…
To say I never know what’s going on in the Tri-City is an understatement. At least once a day, in the midst of relative calm, there is a sudden rush of movement which everyone else seems to know the reason for. This results in a lone British voice asking plaintively to be informed of the situation, as I’m bundled into a car and driven to the nearest meeting, hotel, press conference, restaurant, or gurdwara – or even just driven aimlessly…
Since arriving in Asia four months ago, I’ve been subjected to more beauty treatments than I’ve ever experienced before. From threading and waxing to an impromptu haircut and some seriously questionable massages, my legs, arms, face and head have been dealing with the fallout of an almost incessant hair removal programme. Which is something they’ve certainly never had to endure to date. Back home in London, I’m pretty low maintenance. Shaving and hair removing occurs when it suits me, but…
I woke up yesterday with the heavy, dragging feeling of something hanging over me. The same infernal issue wreaking havoc in my head that had been there for almost a week. Should I get on the bus to Dharamsala today? Again? It was 9am in Panchkula and I was already boiling, despite lying under a steadily whirring fan (well, almost under. It’s situated over the bed and I’m currently sleeping on the sofa). The thought of waiting for hours at the Chandigarh bus…
“Look, they fall! All of them fall!” The man standing behind me grins widely into the mirror, and peels clumps of my hair from his oily fingers. I look at his reflection with a pursed mouth smile; those who know me are aware this isn’t actually a sign of genuine amusement, and actually indicates the strained politeness of a rather pissed off Flora. In broken English, he’s telling me that I’m losing my hair, and he clearly wants an explanation.…
Disclaimer: this post is the result of the sole opinions of a visiting Westerner, and should not be taken as an insult to those who know otherwise about the situations and facts I have mentioned. In fact, I would really appreciate hearing other opinions on this topic, so please do get in touch if you feel you have something significant to help with my knowledge on this matter. The photographers have been waiting for a while when the woman in…
After being in Chandigarh for over fifteen days, the cycle of air conditioned cars and free lunchtime press conference buffets was put on a slight hiatus. In its place came a week that facilitated my outbreak onto Chandigarh’s social scene, as I was gradually introduced to a whole range of its residents. Doctors, models, colonels, majors, babies, dancers and joggers: please meet the Western-Indian debutante.…