Letter from Netherlands 1987-1988

My flat on the 14th floor building in Tilburg
 

Whilst my friends in England were all settling down to a happy family life with kids, a mortgage and a car, I have yet to pass my driving test. All that had to wait as I decided to move home again, this time to Netherlands. I could not refuse an offer of an exciting job as an assistant designer in a small town called Tilburg. A job for life I thought but (there is always a big BUT in my life) I only lasted one miserable year.

 

Netherlands is a flat land, easy to ride a bike if I wanted to , the roads are straight, easy to find my way around, the people are beautiful, tall, blonde, friendly and they all speak English, I should have been happy as a lark, but I was not!!

The land was so flat that I found it boring; I kept coming home to the hills of England. The beautiful friendly people of Netherlands are white European race, just like the English but I quickly discovered that they are of a very different temperament; I could not get use their ways!! My first accommodation was a room at my boss’s family home. He was known as Hitler at work and for the few days I stayed at his place I had to have his permission to go out for a simple walk!! My second place of stay was with a lady who spent all her time cleaning her beautiful house and I was not at ease living under her roof either. Finally, I moved into my own flat. As I was over thirty, old enough to have 2 children and a car, I was given a massive big flat for four on the 14^th floor building and a garage on the ground floor. I had very little intension of investing any money on furnishing my flat. People of Tilburg were generous they donated  a table and two chairs, one single bed, a worn out sofa, a small fridge and hot electric plates for cooking. I did very little cooking when I was alone, eating out became an easy option for me and it was also a way of meeting other people of very small town of Tilburg.

I did not want to invest my money in having a telephone in my flat and all my calls to England were from public phone outside my building. There I was rattling alone in my flat, my friends at work kept telling me to buy a parrot for a company but I found listening to BBC radio 4, kept me away from jumping from 14^th floor window!! Every morning I walked on a narrow small tow path by a canal leading to my work place but my friends at work kept telling me to get a bike, as most had three. I had very little confidence in riding a bike amongst hundreds of bikers who were also going to work on the same tow path as mine; one big problem they saw which I failed (until I got hit) was in fact, in the dark winter days it was difficult for the bikers to see me. Even though one of my friends gave me a bike, I continued to walk, avoiding bikers at all cost.

 My school days German lessons helped me to start speaking and writing Dutch but all my friends, including my Dutch tutor wanted to improve their English and they spent very little time speaking Dutch to me to improve my Dutch. Things got worse for me when I met them socially outside working hours, they would all talk to each other, ignoring me completely, as far as I was concerned it all sounded ‘Double Dutch' to me !! (I got to know where the saying ‘Double Dutch’ originated from). One of my friends pointed out that the whole world would have been speaking Dutch if only the Dutch people had kept their valuable discoveries to themselves the mighty North America and Australia. 

 

 

During my time in Netherlands I spent all my weekends away from my flat, either I came home to England or I travelled around Netherlands to places like Utrecht, Eindhoven, Nijmegen, Apeldoorn, Rotterdam etc…… When visiting England I would hop on to a train from Tilburg which brought me to the port of Vlissingen in time to board the night boat, sleeping all the way to my home. The people of Netherlands, including my boss saw Amsterdam as a foreign city but when my family and friends came to visit me the first port of call was always the great city. The canals, the art and culture, the red light district, the cafes were all exciting and different from the rest of Netherlands. At times with friends I crossed borders to Belgium to Breda for lunch or to Germany travelling as far as to see the Berlin wall and to Austria to the city of Vienna to eat the Viennese’s pastries and see the rest.

 It was so easy to cross borders whilst I was living in Netherlands that I decided to spend two months travelling across Europe down to Crete before returning home to my beloved England in September 1988.

 

 

 

 

 

Post card from Barcelona ( Spain) 1986

 

Gaudi's work in Barcelona

Having finished my studies at Huddersfield in summer 1986, I prayed for rain for my chauffeur
driven trip with my man all the way to Barcelona. My payers were answered, cricket gear never got out of the car as we headed towards the English Channel at five in the evening to cross over to France before the night fall. We stayed one night in a one of those hotels where we did not see a sole and entered the main door by taping in our  credit card details and slept in a space like shuttle with just a bed and sheet for a cover. It was depressing experience to have to go through before we arrived the following day to a beautiful Spanish sun, the blue sea which was visible night and day from our rented accommodation of six !!

 Barcelona with its art and Spanish culture is impressive city with Gaudi’s work dominating the city’s square. As we visited all the sights in and around the city, and had the swim in the blue sea we spend most of our evenings making use of the facilities provided in rather large accommodation with a balcony from where the sea view was out of this world. Any sea view away from English shores is out of this world!!!

 

Taking my mother to Heaven 1984




Masai people of Kenya
 

One of my memorable journeys I recall was when I decided to take my mother’s ashes back to India via Kenya. We were on a dream ticket for sun, fun and lots of wild adventures. It was also going to be a journey where my mother’s ashes and I relived our past before our final farewell. With my mother’s ashes in a plastic box, safely tucked away in my canvas bag, we arrived at Heathrow airport with lots of time on our hands and ten hours later we were still waiting for our plane to take us away to fulfil our dreams.

 Arriving a day late in the Nairobi hotel meant that our group tour to Lake Turkana had left without us. The following day at crack of dawn, I placed my life and my mother’s ashes in the hands of a black taxi driver. As he drove away from the sleepy city, I tried to forget the days of the Mau-Mau’s uprising when my people were savagely murdered by the natives. When we finally caught up with our group ahead of us, I reassured myself that I would at least live for another day before my turn came to join my mother.

 

 Lake Turkana (also known as the Jade Sea) surrounded by thorny landscape, looked inviting, as we were all hungry for a good bath. However, the invitation was limited to the shores, as it contained a largest population of crocodiles. My first night was spend sleeping out in the wild counting the stars above me, leaving my mum in my tent. Later during the night the sand storm and the hyena cry kept me frozen in my place until sunrise. I was too afraid to make a move into my tent; I could hear my mother voice reminding me of my foolish choice! I spent the following morning dusting tons of sand and to my horror, baby scorpions, from my sleeping bag.

Our next campsite by the Sumburu lodge was a civilised place compared to the last one. This little oasis reminded me of my childhood paradise in which I grew up in the fifties and early sixties. Sadly today a large part of Kenya is barren, dusty and fruitless. Sumburu lodge offered us wild life beyond the camping site; at crack of dawn we chased wild animals for our pleasure, after lunch we cruised around the jungle with our cameras to spy on the love life of the lions and in the evenings the birds, monkeys together with nightly tour of the hippos and the elephants kept us awake all night.

We were informed that the elephants are vegetarian, however they do jealousy guard their offspring. At our next campsite near Nanyuki, by birth place, we soon discovered some over jealous elephants on our walk to the Mau-Mau caves. The walking tour led by the native guides on elephants’ territory was also the home of the buffaloes, the most dangerous animals in the wild. After half an hour, our walk grew longer and longer. The guides were whispering the presence of elephants in the area. As the news of the danger filtered down the line of 20 ramblers, my thoughts of returning back to the campsite were soon crushed when the first herd of elephants with a baby appeared from nowhere. Silence fell upon all of us and we all froze behind nearby bushes, unaware of buffaloes that may be lurking behind the same bushes. After their first warning the elephants disappeared into tall grass. The guides came out of their hideout and so did the rest of the group. I was afraid that I might never escape alive from this hell hole to see my mother again. I could hear voices in my ears; they belonged to my mother’s best friends, cursing me for taking their friend’s ashes on a foolish venture.

The walking tour continued, slowly but so did the attacks. The final thunderous cry from a giant elephant who charged towards us with its huge trunk up in the air reminded me of a scary scene from old movies. We all fled and our guides were nowhere to be seen. The giant elephant took out his anger on the nearby tree and disappeared. The guides came out of their hiding once more and we all responded slowly, gathering around for some words of comfort. It was getting dark then and we were almost at the foot of the dreaded caves. A quick session of cameras in motion was all I wanted out of this nightmare. For our return journey the guides took a different route through the dense jungle. We struggled on, climbing the hills, avoiding the snakes above and below our feet. As the dusk fell we prayed that the cheetahs were having their siestas up in the trees. We all came out alive, shaken and desperate to tell our own version of the story to those who were wise enough to have stayed behind and missed all the drama.   

 

 I and my mother needed a good rest from all the jungle life and we headed towards the coast where the sun, sea and minus the wild life awaited our arrival. We had a comfortable hotel in Milindi, where my father worked when he was young. We could not venture too far out of the hotel vicinity in fear of being mugged or even killed. Our stay in Mombasa with relatives was like being harnessed in stocks for days with a label reading “girl behaving badly”, they simply did not approve of me travelling alone. I did not confess to my relatives that I was carrying my mum’s ashes; such an admission would certainly mean I would be thrown out of their home. Mombasa held lots of memories; I went to see my old school and also the old house where all my family once lived together under one roof. I was sad to leave the city and managed to upset my relatives yet again by catching the train to Nairobi and sharing my compartment with the local Africans. The servant-master relationship, between the Africans and the Indians was very strong in my young days, and sadly was still there in 1984.   

 

 

Wandering from campsite to another for five weeks and getting chased by heard of elephants was not my mother’s idea of seeing Kenya, but she had very little choice. As for me I was lucky to have come out alive to complete my mission. Despite some more flight delays at Nairobi airport we made it to our final destination with one final hiccup. As we landed at New Delhi airport my canvas bag,( only held together by a zip) refused to show up on the baggage carousel. I spent hours making enquires before I started to breathe some sigh of relief. With pride in my heart and emotion filling my eyes, I carried the bag with my mother tucked away in her box. The whole ritual of scattering the ashes took only half an hour!! With love and tears, I smiled and waved my mother a final farewell and watched her drift towards her Heaven via the gates of the almighty river Ganges in Hardwar.

I sometimes wonder if the hurdlers I confronted on my journey were my mother's doing, trying to put a stop to the mission which is only reserved for men?

(The photo below taken of the pundit who recorded my mother's death on his register which he claimed has my family recorded history going back thousands of years!!)

 

(The above edited version of my story under the tittle " my canvas bag" was published by Observer newspaper, the only story so far, I have to admit where I can claim my 15 minutes of fame )

Remembering my beautiful mother 1984

My mother with her grand children at home in Coventry.

  My experience of my mother’s life after her death shocked me. I was shocked to see my mother turned into ashes and put into a plastic box. I was shocked to see her Madame Tussaud wax-like body in a coffin dressed in red for a bride to be in her next life.

My mother was a simple, shy woman and the only make up she ever wore on her face was her smile. Her gold nose stud, her pair of gold ear rings and her gold neck lace were the only jewellery she ever wore which signified her marriage status. My mother was peace maker in the family and well loved too. My mother was god fearing religious woman and had to fend for her self and the children when my father deserted her.

I accepted the fact that her Hindu culture had to dominate the final journey of her life on this planet; I had no right to object to her life in the next world, especially when she had a hard time in the life on my planet she left behind.

My mother would have liked me to leave her ashes in the hands of the men in my family because that 's what her culture demanded of the deceased. That's not what I did.  

What I did do with my mother’s ashes was the most important journey of my life; the story unfolds in the next chapter, headed “taking my mother to Heaven”.

 

Post card from Isle of Wight 1984

Playing on the white sand of Isle of Wight

My wonderful man Friday whisked me away for three days to Isle of Wight where I tired to forget the sorrow, the pain I was going through due to the news of sudden death of my beautiful mother on 14th May 1984.

 My mother would have liked me to be at home with the rest of my family, sharing my grief with all her friends for days and nights until she was cremated; I found being away from home and with nature, the sun, the sea and the sand was my way of dealing with my very personal lose on this planet.

I was grateful, my man had made time to share my grief with me; he had never met my wonderful mother!

 

Post card from Rome ( 1983)

Sight seeing in Rome

 

My new found friendship revolved around the cricket season in England which meant I could not have the company of my new man to travel with when the cricket was in full swing and I was on my  summer hols.

 Lucky for me rain stopped cricket play in September 83 meant that I could have a short break to Rome with the company of my new man who spoke perfect Italian, loved his Italian food, knew his Italian wine and breathed Italian life when he was not playing cricket in England.

  Rome is one of Europe's greatest city and has 2000 years of art and culture in the open air for everyone to admire. I was taken to see the three massive ancient Roman columns which resembled the three stumps on the cricket pitch (only a true cricketer would see that?), the classical Colosseum and the rest of Roman’s ruins; finishing off each night with good Italian food and fine Italian wine!

 Sadly my sight seeing tour was cut short as my guide picked up tummy bug, (too much of Italian sea food, I thought). Luck as it, I escaped, perhaps it had to do with having developed a strong stomach after a year of eating junk food from the streets of the third world?

 

Post card from Paris ( 1982)

 

 

Mono Lisa in Paris

 I was in Paris in my young days and was living the fashionable Parisian street life with the rest of my class mates then. My visit to Paris in 1982 was different, it included trips to all the art galleries and all the areas where only adults went!! I watched with amusement, all my young in experienced class mates with their high heels, in discomfort pulling their overloaded suitcases up and down the stairs to reach the underground metro system. My gap year had taught me a lot about travelling!!

 The most member able occasion of my visit to Paris was when one evening a friend of mine from London who was on a business trip in Milan, changed his return flight back to London via Paris; picked me up from my hotel for a beautiful evening dinner in Paris ; safely delivered me back at my hotel door and then caught his flight from Paris in the early hours of the following morning. The following day at 9 in the morning, he rang from his London office and found that I was still in my bed catching up with my sleep from the night before!!! “The lady loves milk tray”, advert came to my mind and I had a smile on my face for the rest of the day; unable to explain to my young  fellow students of my previous night experience on the tiles?

 

 

 

 

 

Moving to a new home 1982

Enjoying student life in Huddersfield

 

I returned from my ‘gap’ year before such term was even thought of and at the age of thirty two, I wanted to be an artist. My worldly possessions were stored away in Liverpool, so art school at Liverpool provided me the qualification for a course in Textile Design at Huddersfield University. I moved to Huddersfield in September1982 and was there for four years.

 Studying for four years meant, time to feel young again, lots of visits to art galleries in the UK and another visit to Paris as a matured student.

 

Post card from Lausanne ( Switzerland) 1981

Snowy steps in the street of Lausanne 

I was back in Lausanne on 28^th December and my Asian friends were there to welcome me.

  On 30^th December I waited at Swiss airport lounge, thinking of all the unfinished business I had waiting for me back home. Whilst waiting, there was also time to count the number of hours, minutes and seconds left before the take off. As I boarded the plane my tired body ached with fatigue; my heart kept missing a beat as I found my seat on the plane. I was so physically exhausted that I thought I would collapse as soon as I stepped out of the plane on arrival at London ariport.

 I did not fall, instead I walked tall with a smile, towards a familiar face of a  friend who was to be my partner and then my husband for the rest of his life on this planet. What a joy to be alive on the planet of mine!!

Letter from Germany 1981

Skiing in Tuttlingen


On 21^st December, the snow was everywhere, and with some help from a delivery man I crawled out of the front door of the hotel at 6 o’clock in the morning so that I could catch my train to Munich. The train was taking the scenic route, going through beautiful forest full of snow capped Xmas trees in the cold winter day; but what followed my arrival in Munich was an experience not easily forgotten!! 

  I was invited to stay with a German friend I met in Hong Kong. On my arrival at his flat, I found out that he, his father and two other flat mates were all on eviction order and there I was, invited to sleep for two nights in his over crowded accommodation. As he had few more days to move out, he kept his promise and provided me a corner of a room. During the two days with him, I roamed the streets of Munich, taking in all its glory, (it is a beautiful city) and also listening to his numerous phone calls to his solicitor whilst searching for new place to live. There was one big advantage for listening to  my friend’s troubled time, it  stopped me thinking about the roof over my own head when I reached home. My host actually belonged to the German aristocrat family and inherited  a tittle of a baron, however he lived like a tramp of out choice and really enjoyed living on the edge!!Not the one for me!!

 On 23^rd December I took a train to visit another pen friend of mine who lived in Tuttlingen, in the Black forest, south of Germany. There I had a room to myself and a warm welcome from my friend’s mother, who lived on the middle floor of the house, and her grandmother who lived on the ground floor of the house and my friend who lived with her husband on the top floor of the house. I spent Christmas day with the whole family; it was warm and peaceful family occasion for me to have experienced before my departure to England. On Christmas night, I accompanied the whole family to the local cemetery to pay respect to the deceased, including my friend’s father; the whole of the cemetery covered with white sheet of snow was lit up with candles on every grave stone and the hymn ‘silent night’ could be heard in the back ground; it was idyllic .  

    

 Before leaving Tuttlingen, the family took me out for skiing, their winter sport and not mine. They all had the gear and provided me with some old out fit for me to wear. Instead of catching up with my sleep, which I desperately wanted to, I went off with the family for a bit of fun, so I thought?

My body was not built to ski and just to keep my feet on the ground was damn hard work; I kept falling off like Bambi on snow, the Disney cartoon character; I kept wiping my runny nose but found that I was wiping frozen water; it was so, so cold that I only lasted ten whole minutes of falling off and getting up, over and over again; though I wanted to cry like a little girl who failed , I simply laughed all the way to the café for warmth and hot drink!!   

 

 

Post card from Switzerland ( Europe) 1981

Snow scene in Switzerland

On 18^th December I arrived from a very hot, warm and friendly India and landed myself in snowy cold, but unfriendly city of Geneva. I was happy to see the snow everywhere, it reminded me of home; however I was ill prepared for the dramatic change in the climate and the people’s hospitality.

I stayed only one night in Geneva and moved to a smaller city of Lausanne where I booked into a cheap hotel for two nights. My body was tired, I developed a cough, a massive cold and temperature too and all I wanted to do was to sleep all day and all night. Unable to speak any French, I used sign language to obtain medicine from the chemist and had a long sleep, hoping for a quick recovery.

 Lausanne is famous for its lake and I had very little time to go out and explore the unfriendly environment. Fortunately, there were two Asian men in the same hotel as mine and their company and spicy food they shared with me was worth waking up for each evening of my stay in this lonely planet of mine!!  

Post card from India again (Bombay or Mumbai ) 1981



Gateway to India...Bombay

Back to my beloved India and as I landed in Bombay, the smell, the colour and the people all looked  familiar and I felt very much at home.

I came back to India to bid my farewell to the land where my forefathers came from. I was moved by  one special friend who flew from the other side of India to wish me a safe journey home. I first bumped into him on a flight to Nepal and from there on, he was generous with his time and fulfilled my dreams to reach the corners of the vast continent which would have been very difficult for me to reach alone.

Post card from Bangkok again ( Thailand) 1981



Out for the night to see Thai dancer in Bangkok

Homeward bound, back to Bangkok for two days.  I stayed in the same hotel as before and met up with my Toy boy who looked after me as before; provided me with a reliable taxi service to take me to the airport. Airports started to become my second home.

The city of Bangkok which  never sleeps, helped me to stop counting my days for going home and offered me an entertainment which was hard to resist; two nights of Thai dancers with lots more tourist for a good reason to be there!!

Letter from Japan 1981



Street cleaners having a break in Japan
 

 

I landed at Tokyo airport with my luggage which was getting extremely heavy and the problem was immediately solved when I purchased a luggage trolley from the airport and what I needed next was a pair of new underpants, as the one I was wearing was so worn out that I had one hand on the trolley and the other to hold my underpants up; with a smile on my face and help from the Japanese people I reached my hotel without embarrassing my self on the streets of Tokyo!!

 Japan I thought was a bit health crazy, on my arrival at the airport I had to fill in a health form and if I was showing any symptom of a common cold, I had to wear a mask to keep the germs to my self. There were lots of people with common cold in Tokyo; a surgical mask they wore gave away their secret?  There were lots of Joggers too, common past time hobby, I guess? The streets were clean and spotless. The Japanese people went out of their way to help me find my directions. I was starting to miss the chaos and the madness of my beloved India!!

 

 The Japanese people loved anything to do with England and as soon I mentioned the name of famous footballers for example Bobby Charlton, I received a V.I.P treatment. Tokyo to me seemed like a toy town, everything was small and neat and worked efficiently; the railway, the underground system, the traffic lights; mechanical gadgets were everywhere in the shops, in the restaurants and my heated toilet seat was such a luxury to have experienced in a very modest hostel. Having a Japanese bath was another ball game; it took me two days to work out how to have a  standing up Japanese bath?

 I have always been interested in the Japanese drama and costumes and I decided to pay a lot of money to visit the grand theatre in Tokyo to see a play, knowing very well the language barrier. The experience of seeing it all alive in Japanese colours, the costumes and the drama, the make up  was all very exciting at the beginning. However, sadly for me the excitement went all pair shaped. The play had very little spoken words and the action were so, so very  slow  meant that  I simply wanted to get out of my seat,( which was starting to give me back ache, it was designed for small Japanese people not small Indian like me) during the interval and leave the theatre. However, to please the very helpful audience around me, who were translating everything for me, in broken English; I stuck out in my seat for the whole five hours of performance!! 

  

 I arrived in Japan during autumn, and decide to make a trip to Kyoto which is best known for its Buddhist temples, Shinto shrines, palaces and gardens. The famous bullet train took no time at all to make its journey of 370 km to Kyoto. It was so fast that I felt I was travelling through space and I kept falling off to sleep and waking up again to take in the fact that I was not in space but with lots of other passengers, most of them watching small hand TV!! (the land of the electronic gadgets indeed).

Kyoto was beautiful, with autumn colours in the gardens and the city’s Buddhist temples and Shinto Shrines were magical places to visit. I stayed in very old fashioned hotel where, all the inside walls were thin, made of paper. I had to take my shoes off and wear the slippers provided to entre my tiny bedroom, with a bed on the floor; and when any body knocked on the paper door, I was on my knees to open it.

 

I boarded the plane at Tokyo airport on the 10^th December 1981 and when the plane took off, the stewardess did her normal bit to settle all the passengers down. We were up in the sky looking down at Tokyo for about three minutes when the stewardess made another announcement “everyone remains in your seats until the plane comes to a complete halt”. My heart sank for few seconds and I looked up in terror, so did the rest of the passengers!!

 

 

Letter from Manila again 1981



passport stamped for my departure from Philippines
 

I was a bit more wiser when booking my return ticket back to Manila from Cebu. No, I did not take an easy option to catch a flight, I booked a first class cabin for myself and made sure I locked my self in without any food and had a good night sleep through out my journey. On arrival at the port in Manila my friend, who arranged to meet me was no where to be seen and this time I knew what she looked like,( though all the people on the Islands looked the same to me). So I hired a taxi and left my life in the hands of their God. I agreed the price of my ride before I boarded the taxi with my luggage, however my taxi driver had no clue where he was heading; at times I stopped the taxi to ask the passer by for help and left my belongings and the rest of my host’s boxes (I was a courier for my host too), praying that the taxi driver will not runaway with all the loot. Luckily, the taxi made it to my friend’s house, how ever the cost of the taxi had gone sky high, and I had to borrow money from the maid to get rid of the taxi and the driver. According to the maid my friend had not shown up for the past 2 days?

 I was coming to the end of my stay in Philippines and it was also time of the year when Christian families of Manila were thinking of Christmas decoration and the shops were stocked up with white plastic Xmas trees. Yes, can you imagine white plastic Xmas trees in hot, hot sunny Manila, the sight of seeing them made me ill and also sadly made me home sick too.  

My final departure from my friend’s home was another saga which I need to share with the readers of this blog. My friend worked for a travel agent and was use to meeting people at the airport during arrival and departure times. As planned, she accompanied me to the airport and what happened next was a very new experience for me and I would never want to repeat it again.

 Whilst I was in India travelling by plane, I had carried some duty free cigarettes for relatives of mine and was given a good advice by fellow traveller, not to carry anything for anybody; it can land me in all sorts of trouble with the custom officers. Ten months on, I had forgotten all this. At Manila airport my friend saw me off at departure lounge and gave me a wad of money to buy 250 boxes of duty free cigarettes which, she explained will be picked by another friend of hers inside the duty free area. A favour I could not refuse for all the hospitality I received for a month.   I had very little idea what 250 packets of cigarettes looked like and when I bought them and quickly realised the huge plastic carrier bags full of cigarettes packets I got myself lumbered with, I wandered around like a headless chicken wanting to get rid of them; at the same time looking for some eye connect with some official who was in with this racket!!  I was finding it hard to see anybody who would take this burden off my shoulders, so I decided that if I don’t get rid of 250 packets in the duty free area, I shall distribute them all to the passengers in the plane to Japan. Whilst these thoughts were invading my mind, I saw a signal by an official and followed him to the cabinet where I discreetly placed the 250 packets and lived to tell another tale of mine. Another official approached me with money in his hand for some more packets and you can guess what I said to him?

 

I boarded my flight to the land of the rising sun, Japan with my head in the sky!!     

 

 

 

Letter from Cebu 1981

Houses for the poor in Cebu

There are 7000 Islands in Philippines and the cheap way to hop from Island to another is to travel by over loaded boat and pray that it will get you to your destination without any hiccup! 

 I had a shock of my life when I boarded my boat full of fluttering chickens, squealing pigs and hungry goats that were to accompany me for 30 hours of my journey to the city of Cebu. My upper deck sleeping arrangement was on a plank of wooden seat where I tried to get some sleep amongst the rest of the travellers and I had eaten some fish food which made me so sick that I wondered if I was ever going to get out of this hell hole alive!Of course, I did, I wanted to continue telling my tale.

  In the city of Cebu I stayed with a family who were so, so filthy rich that I questioned as to why the wealth of these beautiful Island people was not evenly distributed , who could sing like Beatles at a drop of a hat, who smiled in their misery which surrounded them and who were god fearing too. My host filled me with all the politics of the Islands, Muslim at war with Christians; the First Lady who we know had obsession for collecting shoes. I had some beautiful time at the exclusive sea- side resorts, sea diving and getting my self in the hospital for having been bitten by a jelly fish. I saw a cock fight, their past time hobby, and ate their favourite delicacy, a boiled egg with half developed chick with eyes and wings inside the egg. I had my first ever 'dum-sum', Chinese steamed meals served in a family restaurant situated on the 5th floor of the building  they owned. I was staying as a guest in a room big enough to accommodate a family of four on the seventh floor of building. I was living a very high life and had very little to complain about  but I  found myself lonely when I saw no body, until meal times or when it was time to go out fully escorted. An elderly couple in their eighties, belonging to the family were also situated on the same floor as mine, and as part of their daily physical exercise, they walked around on the seventh floor foyer all day long. It was depressing for me to see that they could not get out of the building and walk in the sun shine.

 

 The highlight of my journey was a visit to the sea side resort of Tagbilaran alone. Whilst there, I met up with a group of young people; so there we all were, eight of  us accompanied by the sun in the sky, the blue sea in front, the white sand to play with and the coconut trees for the cool breeze and me down to my under pant and T-shirt so that I could get my feet wet. Sheer magic! 

 

( p.s. My friends from Philippines proudly tell me that Thgbilaran is now a big holiday resort with lots of hotels and an airport too.... sheer hell!!)

 

 

Letter from Manila ( Philippines) 1981

Shanty town of Manila




My reason for flying to Philippines was to visit an old pen friend, I never met but  I had been writing to her since I was fifteen years of age. I arranged to be in Philippines for a month.

 Having decided not to hang myself from the 6th floor window in Hong Kong hotel, ((yes there were times when depression took over my travelling dreams, hanging from the hotel window seemed the only option out of this lonely planet of mine) I caught my flight to Manila on 5^th November 1981. I arrived at Manila airport and before spending more time hanging around looking for my pen friend as arranged; I decided to catch a taxi to her home. Yes, the taxi drivers all over the world are the same, they will take a longer route to get you where you want to be and waste all your time telling you about their beautiful land. I discovered that there are 7000 Islands where 98% of the population are Christians mainly Catholics. The fairer race on the Islands come from China  and own most of the wealth where as the beautiful tanned race, the indigenous people of the Islands do all manual jobs and are poor. Lucky for me my pen friend forefathers came from China.  

 As soon as I arrived at my friend’s place, I had to wait an hour outside her house for her arrival from the airport where she had been looking out for me. On her arrival I was given few safety rules to digest and one of the rules was not to catch a taxi alone in Manila!!

 I found that my friend could not cook or clean and lived in a cramped room for one person with a beautiful tanned Pilipino maid who looked after her needs. So where was I to sleep and eat in her tiny room which was surrounded by more cramped rooms of families and lots of screaming children? It seemed like I have landed in a shanty town of Manila, I reassured myself that this was no different from my life in Delhi; I shall survive, but for how long?

 

 All the women I met were Pilipino beauties, tanned, with tiny, slim figures and most were hanging around with seven feet tall American guys in the hope they will take them away from the misery of everyday life in the city. My friend had an American boy friend too and she left me in her so called apartment with the maid every evening and went off to stay the nights with her American boy friend. During day time we spent hours seeing the highlights of Manila, the posh hotels with beautiful girls with men at their sides and we ate out in cheap places where we were served food on a banana skin.  We visited all the American style shopping Malls where the girls in the make up department store thought I had a very beautiful pointed nose and big eyes and would I like to be made up? Yes, came my reply; though I looked like a clown, the process of being made up into a beauty, helped me to kill my time in this very Americanised city where boredom started to creep into my life.

 Fortunately, within few days of my stay in Manila, my friend had arranged for me to stay with one of her relatives in the city of Cebu and it did not take long for me to get myself sorted out for this exciting journey which I was ill prepared for?

 

 

 

Post card from Shenzhen ( China) 1981



My passport stamped, showing the date of my visit to China

A day trip to Shenzhen was a break from the vibrant life of Hong Kong. A bus full of tourist like me headed off to take a peep at China across the border of Hong Kong. It rained all day and throughout my journey to Shenzhen I had to listening ear for the unhappy life of an English woman who sat next me and who had left her husband for another man!! The day trip was well orchestrated. For our hard earned cash , we were provided with a very beautiful lunch and visit to a school where all the children were beautifully dressed and were happy to entertain us by singing a song. It was a grim reality of China to witness for a day in 1981. 

Post card from Hong Kong 1981

 

Busy street of Hong Kong
 

As my plane was about to land at the Hong Kong airport, I thought it was going to hit one of the high rise building on its flight path. Hong Kong city is built on a very tiny Island, it is unimaginably crowded by concrete buildings, the plane hitting one of these high in the sky building was the way I saw things ahead as the pilot started his climb down to the runway. The pilot must have done this journey hundreds of times before because he safely landed the plane and I lived to tell my tale.

Hong Kong was an expensive place and I found a crummy hotel with cockroaches to keep me company and luck was on my side too; I also met up with a German guy who had been to Hong Kong before and became my guide for few days of his stay in the city. The crowded, vibrant city of Hong Kong was full of shops and restaurants, bustling with human life, day and night. With the help of my new found German friend, who spoke perfect English, I managed to see life out of the city and swim in the sea and visit the Kowloon district for a river boat trip. It was all very refreshing.

Post card from Singapore 1981



Modern city of Singapore

A very modern city, I could be any where in the West but I was not, I was thousands of miles away from home. I found a room with a coloured TV in a YMCA with 5star service.  I had not seen a TV for the last ten months and it was such a joy to watch television which provided me with English speaking entertainment and I even got to see the famous series in England called ' Shoe String ', but sadly it was sub titled in English. When alone at night the TV was such a comfort but it also made me home sick and I was having sleepless nights, bad dreams and counting my days for the journey home.

Singapore is a city where most tourist, especially the wealthy one from India, come to buy truck full of electronic goods and it has a large Indian and Chinese population. It is the only place I know on this planet where I would get arrested if I did not leave a clean public loo after use!!It also has a law where chewing bubble gum in public and spiting it out in public place will mean harsh penalty. Yes, Singapore cleaned up its streets of drug and opium smokers and the street are spotless of any chewing too!!

Post card from Bangkok ( Thailand ) 1981



Toy boy outside one of the temples in Bangkok

I was so glad to have left the madness and chaos behind which had surrounded me for the past ten months in India. I landed at Bangkok airport with a smile on my face, knowing well that I was free from the shackles of Indian life. I found a room in a hotel near the city centre where I was able to receive my phone calls from England; what a joy it was to hear a familiar voice over the phone in English after ten months!!

The hotel I stayed in was always full of beautiful Thai ladies to be picked for an evening out and I was luck enough to be picked up outside my hotel, by my very own toy boy ( his name was Toy) who reassured me that I needed protection from bad men visiting my hotel. I believed him. He was true to his word and guided me through the streets of Bangkok and always left me outside my hotel door without payment of any sort. I wondered what were his motives for his generosity, his English was not good enough for me to question him.

Bangkok is the city of holy shrines ( including now,one for David Beckham) and also has colourful markets on land and by the river bank. It also has huge sex industry of all shapes and sizes and people from all over the world use the industry for their own pleasure!!

The city was certainly different from anything I had experienced in India and my life started to look good, for how long I wondered?

Letter from Delhi ( time to leave India) 1981



I dressed up in sari with friends at a wedding in New Delhi

I found my beloved India full of contradictions. I could not accept the corruption and bribery system the god fearing Indians seem to accept without any questions. I could not accept the caste system as part of their DNA, I found it difficult to accept the massive gap between the rich and the poor and  ' karma' was to be blamed for the human misery was not what I wanted to believe. The dusty roads with cows and elephants, open sewage system, constant storage of water and power in the homes I stayed where I sat by candle light for hours; rubbish every where, crowded public transport, and the extreme weather were all the experiences of India I had tasted and they started to effect me. I longed for my home comfort.

My stay in India taught me a great deal about my forefathers. I got to know about Hindu religion. I celebrated all the Hindu festivals and even enjoyed few weddings where I took pleasure in wearing Indian costumes. I taught myself to speak Hindi, after watching 30 Hindi movies in ten months. I taught myself to write Hindi too, to help me read road signs when I travelled alone. I loved the  India's passion for being none throw away society, where they recycled near enough everything; when travelling in the trains I was always served tea in hand made clay cup which went back to earth and made into a cup again and my food was often served on a banana leaf which saved a lot of washing up time!! I loved India's passion for life, her colour full landscape with her beautiful people and her struggle for survival on our beautiful planet. I promised myself ( and those I left behind in England) that I shall be away from home for whole year. However, ten months on, I found myself emotionally drained, I had enough of my beloved India!

I failed my mission, to find a suitable man. My female Indian friends kept telling me to improve my flat chested figure as men in India prefer women with big boobs, however I never seemed to be short men ( all unsuitable in my eyes)  giving me all the attention. I even took up courage to write ( and got published) a very strong letter to one of the Indian's well read pornography magazine, asking the men of India to have some compassion for a lone traveller like me; this message appeared to have fallen on deaf ears as I continued to be hassled and followed around when ever I was travelling alone.

I decided to leave India and spend rest of the year travelling as far as Japan. So I bought a flight ticket from Delhi to Japan ( the country I most wanted to visit) and stopped over in Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong, Shenzhen ( China) and Philippines. My return from Japan brought me back to Thailand, India through Europe to Switzerland, Germany, and then back to Switzerland  and finally home to England in on New Year day of 1982.

Post card from Varanasi ( Utter Pradesh ) 1981

Varanasi ghats by the river Ganges


Varanasi, situated on the banks of the sacred Ganges is the ' eternal city' and the most important pilgrimage site in India. It has been a centre of learning and civilisation for over 2000 years and is now important place for learning Sanskrit. For orthodox Hindus, the city is not just a pilgrimage centre but a place to die and a place to be cremated, which ensures instant route to heaven!! There are special centres for Hindu widows who leave their families behind to live in the centre in the hope of meeting their death in Varanasi.

I took a flight from Khajuraho to Varanasi to witness the principal attraction of the long string of bathing ghats and the ' burning ghats where bodies were cremated. The city was full of colourful narrow lanes with over cramped life in tall houses and for me, a day visit was full of magic of India.

Post card from Khajuraho ( Northern Madhya Pradesh) 1981

 Stone work on a temple in Khajuaho 



Khajuraho, once a capital during 950 A.D. is now just a quiet village with lots of hotels for the visitors from all over the world. The main attraction Khajuraho are the temples with erotic figures running through a whole of ' Kama sutra' positions, this is not by any means pornography, according to the Indians!! The stone carved sculptors shows many aspects of Indian life 1000 years ago, depicting gods and goddesses, warriors and musicians and mythological animals and real one too.

After my stay in Darjeeling, I took a flight to Khajuraho from Delhi and stayed in a hotel with a swimming pool and shared the pool with lots of  newly wed Indian couples ( fully clothed where as I was in my bikini) who were in Khajuraho to enjoy their honeymoon!!!

Post card from Gangtok ( Sikkim) 1981



View of the Himalaya in Gangtok

Another muddy journey by jeep and I was able to go to Gangtok without any permit and without showing my British passport; I simply pretended to be a native Indian and I entered the gates of Heaven, Sikkim!

I was in the clouds , staying for one night in The Elgin Nor-Khill hotel, blend of Sikkimese and British architecture, situated high up on the hill side with a view of Mount Kanchenjunga in front of me and a view of the football match being played below be me; sheer magic!!!

Post card from Kalimpong ( West Bengal ) 1981




A holiday resort in Kalimpong.
 

To get me through muddy tracks I reached Kalimpong and back again by hiring a jeep. My stay there was only for two nights in a beautiful resort built with recycled material in a very isolated area. It was meant  for the honeymoon couples and each room was different in style. The resort was surrounded by lots of plant life and it resembled a forest.

Sadly, in this beautiful surroundings, I found I was robbed of my cash on the first day of my arrival and since I was alone, I was ignored most of the times by the staff whose job was to serve me with food and drinks!!

There is no life for a single woman?