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Another airplane ride, more reading of Mr O’Brian’s books, which though based on the oceans of the world I shall now surely associate with flying about in aeroplanes, and guess what, I am sitting next to British Naval Officer. To Edinburgh we go with a full complement of family members, Mother, Step Father, Sister and niece but the flight is too short for any bad behavior. Look out of window and there is snow on the ground, that’s going to be a bit of a shock. In fact it was, walking to Tesco in a Barbour coat and Cambodian Krama in a blizzard had its funny side, but we had to pick up the essentials, beer, wine and milk. Packed taxi into the City Center, dropped two off at their hotel and here I am back in the flat in Albany Street, it’s like coming home. The pub is there almost next door, the gardens are looking inviting but alas, no time to go over to Princes Street to see the Castle, maybe tomorrow morning.
Yesterday was fun, we left early to go to Avebury Ring, a more real, ancient experience than the inevitable Stonehenge. The niece, Sophie, was bubbling with excitement as we two hugged the old stones, ran around in the five thousand year old ditches, and visited the gift shop. Odd to think isn’t it, the circle has been there for thousands of years yet no one knows why they are there or what they were for, as far as I know. On then to Stonehenge, the visit marred somewhat by terrible traffic, we didn’t park, the monument is surrounded by barbed wire but even so is most imposing, rising out of the landscape in that so, so familiar arrangement. The whole area seethed with visitors from all over the world and well, we saw it, what else can you do there besides buy souvenirs and use the loos. On then over Salisbury (pronounced Saulsbrie !) Plain, a pretty part of England, all rolling green hills, racehorses in jackets, chalk hills with white Horses carved into the greenness, and the Military on maneuvers. Salisbury Cathedral with its tall spire, completed in Twelve Fifty Eight it is quite old, but after Avebury and the Henge it is a comparative newcomer on the landscape. To the South Coast arriving at Bucklers Hard just in time to miss lunch, but no matter, this is Nautical History Heaven. Nelson’s flagship before the Victory, HMS Agamemnon, was built here along with a couple of other major contributers to the Battle of Trafalgar.
I had a great wallow in it all with Sophie, who did her best to look interested, thanks Soph’.
This is written in the Cairngorms, a mountain range between Edinburgh and Inverness, snow covered on the heights but green in the valleys, Glens actually, true Glens. We have just passed a monumentally huge house, all white and turrets with a flag flying from the top most, a signpost to Killiecrankie, white sheep with lambs on the hillsides, gloomy looking grey, slate roofed houses dotted about, whisky distillieries, bright yellow gorse, bluebells and of course the purple heather. It is all Scotland is supposed to be. All we need now is a bagpiper, no wait, we had one. Dinner the first evening here the French tourist group at the hotel had their Haggis “piped in” though quite what the French made of Haggis I can’t quite imagine. Pipes we had tho, right next to where I was sitting for dinner. No, I shan’t be rushing out to buy a kilt tomorrow but you know, it really doesn’t get more Scottish than Scotland. To cap it all we just passed the sign to Birnam Wood, eh, what, Birnam Wood, you know, Macbeth, Shakespeare, iambic pentameter, come on you lot, keep up, ” Great Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane”
Up early and off on the train to York. What joy, twenty minutes of free wifi , this, after Sister’s flat suffered a major connection failure within hours of our arrival in Edinburgh. Despite some nine or ten calls to BT’s call center and a new modem/router we never did recover the signal leading to major sense of humor failures from all flat occupants. No Facebook, no Skype no Twitter, how deprived we all were. Dashed off a quick email or two and the twenty minutes ran out, ten dollars for a further hour seemed too steep so back to the Kindle App. York, York, what a whirlwind two and a half hour sightseeing feast. The Minster, it’s not a cathedral, it’s a Minster, was quite impressive, we figured out that it was built around the same time as the Rajasthani forts, around Eleven Something, so definitely on the old side, Aulde even. Fantastic medieval stained glass, a bit of a creepy Crypt, soaring towers, a Good Friday Service happening, thundering organ music, a very fine clock, lovely Choir but no gift shop, it was closed. I walked on the old wall that still exists all around the old City, I saw where the Queen had lunch yesterday, a Viking house built all of wood but no nails, I met the Marketing Manager for the Royal Shakespeare Company who I last lunched with when she was six and she remembered me, ha ha. How fun it was to meet up with old friends again, not missed a beat in all those years.
Thanks.

The Ring at Avebury.

There it is.

They used to build boats here.

It’s always good to be welcomed back.

Scotland.

York.

I feel like I have slept and slept,three long nights and an afternoon or two resulting in perhaps something like normalcy. The beaming sister was waiting for me at the airport and we battled the traffic on London’s ring road for a while and then swooshed down the motorway to Winchester, no pot holes, no beeping, nothing coming at us on the wrong side, just went very fast, arriving in no time at all. She, the sister, had bought me a bottle of water for the ride, that seemed very familiar. Huge hugs when we walked in the door, not only affectionate, but I feel given with relief, I had made it intact and whole. Cheeses then and big Carr’s Water biscuits, opened cards and gifts from near and far, how much effort had gone into making sure they were there and waiting for me. A wine or two and slept soundly all night.
The first day in the UK was something like the first day in any of the other countries I visited, top of the list was to get the technology working, so into town to the cell phone shop. At least the gentlemen behind the counter knew what I wanted, no hand gestures required, no waiting around for someone who spoke a spattering of English and of course, unlike India, no passport photo needed or forms to submit in triplicate. That said, it did take a while, but now I am the proud owner of yet another SIM card and my phone works, I have a UK phone number and I feel less reliant on family members. I slipped away and took photos of famous landmarks, bought a newspaper, it all felt oddly familiar.
Day two, after the adrenaline had worn off, was a little harder. I found myself wandering off in my mind, back a week or more, to Udaipur, where I was exactly a week ago, on my way to Pushkar, which I didn’t miss at all, though the memory of getting totally lost in the dark on my way back to the hotel made me smile. Cleaning my teeth using tap water, what a treat, washing my hands every time I passed a sink out of habit, checking my pockets to make sure I hadn’t lost anything, going to the pub for lunch and listening, watching, wondering, do these good people have any idea what life is like at the two hundred kilometer marker outside Jaisalmer. Internalized it all though, don’t want to appear to be unhinged, do I . Everything is so much easier, see it, eat it, drink it, read it, there is no need to worry, it’s safe. Worry that I am being unsociable after so long on my own, I don’t say much. Try and look at some photos, but there are so many, and really, as always only about one in twenty five is worth lingering on, and anyway there isn’t time to tell the story. I need a computer for some serious editing.
Requests have come in for me to share these thoughts, so here we go. Nat in Seattle suggested I go somewhere I have never been before to help the transition back, I just might do that. Picking up the niece from the train station and then tea with Great Aunt today, like I said, it’s all so easy.

Springtime in England.

The Cathedral in Winchester.

That tall building is the home of the one family and all those staff that I mentioned earlier.

I have always known this event would occur, I am in the Departure Lounge at Mumbai Airport and I have very mixed feelings.
Basically I have made the transition, I am back in the West already. Muzak playing, polite handlers, etc etc.
But before I jump on the plane, check this out ! :

Birthday cake courtesy of British Airways !

Two hours South of Jaipur and I guess this is what is known as rural India, not seen a road in ages yet the villages are still passing by. We crossed a huge plain with occasional low hills, sometimes topped by old falling down forts, not the ones in the guide books. The ladies in their saris are bringing in the wheat harvest, by hand, sickles and things, where are the menfolk I ask. The conductor brings round tea and sandwiches, a late lunch. Incredibly sweet tea, rather dull sandwiches. There is so much of nothing to see out of the window. Mile upon mile of wheat, stretching into the far distance, what a bread basket this is, and think what a combine harvester could achieve. All too soon it got dark and there was nothing more to see. My companions, a couple from Mumbai, shared their dinner, how nice, they seemed very proud of their daughter in law’s cooking and immediately phoned her to tell how much the westerner enjoyed her home cooking, it was very good in a simple and basic fashion. Then the train dinner came round, oh dear, not very appetizing.
I had a few hours sleep, constantly aware of the speed we were going, very very fast. This is the Jaipur to Mumbai Super Express and it doesn’t stop too often. The horn blares constantly, the sound of the rails changes as we cross bridges and viaducts, I am aware of all this while sleeping but most of all it’s the speed. Being thrown about on my bunk, practically hanging on.
The last bit of the journey was down from the Rann of Kutch (always wanted to say that) along the coast, marshes and salt flats, stagnant pools and oozing rivers, not very pleasant. Now in Mumbai, confusing, I know, half the people seem to refer to it as that and the other half say Bombay, I personally prefer the latter, I sounds more historical. Into the station and out onto the street where the taxi touts are legendary, they were. No exaggeration I must have had ten or so clamoring for my fare, fortunately I had spotted a sign to that old stand by, the Prepaid Taxi Booth. Shedding hustlers I paid my two dollars and twenty five cents (125 Rupees), and out we went, easy. Fabulous looking architecture to look at, will I have time for a wander. Hotel and checked in, mentioned birthday tomorrow and was given a top floor room with a sensational view of the Gateway to India and the harbor, as my Mom says “If you don’t ask you won’t get”. So now by pool recovering from the eighteen hour train ride and four hours of sleep.
That’s it then, some two months on the road. I have not reached any profound conclusions about my sojourn, maybe it will all swim into focus at wheels up tomorrow on BA 198 to London’s Heathrow Airport and then I can spend the flight having some sort of regurgitation. I can tell you this right now though, nothing, no amount of planning, no amount of book reading, movie or documentary watching or going to classes can ever ever prepare one for India, it’s simply too big and varied. I remember I remember when I first moved from London to San Francisco all those years ago it probably took five years before I felt comfortable and not like a tourist. I could order breakfast like a local, take the bus, ride the subway, make change, drive a car, take interest in local news etc etc, and that was just in San Francisco. Kerala, Goa, Rajisthan and Mumbai are as different as SF, NYC, Texas, Utah and Washington State. Maybe I should have just focused on one small piece of India and stuck to that for five weeks, but, would it have made any difference at all ?
I doubt it, five weeks is not five years,
I am exhausted but exhilarated.
Last night in India, sad, but looking forward to seeing family and friends.
More from the plane.

Another elephant in the parade in Jaipur.

Two lonely Rajisthani forts.

The bed on the train.

There it is, the Gateway to India.

And lastly ! Saw this on the side of a truck today, it spoke to me.