Meet me in the Bathroom

Bath, United Kingdom of Britain and the English Isles.

3 Years ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about jumping in a manual drive car for a 3 hour drive across England… I didn’t do it much in fairness but it wouldn’t have phased me. Roll the clocks forward, and the fear of some clutch foot was definitely there!

An hour in and I’ve re-located myself plus Nissan to central London in rush hour traffic, my right quads have made themselves known so I tuck into a few Percy Pigs, which soon become nearly a whole packet of Percy Pigs. Too addictive. I eventually find my way around Tooting and get to Flees place. After a toilet break, we set off… along with a Kinder Surprise… it was becoming a day of true health, Pigs and chocolate thus far, and we’re not at 10am yet.

Off of the M25 and onto the M4, we spot a place to refuel and grab lunch. A Bacon Double Cheese from Burger King and we’re off again, just as quick as I realise I forgot to put fuel in the car (I could tell I was outta driving practice). Petrol fumes get us to the next service station.

We rock up to Bath about 2hours behind original schedule, both of us quite excited by the prospect of seeing something new of England. After all, nearly every Australian I’ve met has been to this place! What I read, immediately gained confirmation; every building was made of Bath Stone with no terracotta to be seen, anywhere.

We parked up and set about getting about the place. Since we had the daylight, we figured it would be cool to have a little explore of the city. The Crescent and the Circus the centre piece masonry homes were London-esque under a bright grey sky.

A semi decent coffee later, and we gained admittance to the ancient Roman baths. Electronic audio sets in hand we wandered the ruins and learned. Bill Bryson had visited the place and I quickly found his narration far more interesting than the standard one.

Closing time drew in and the remaining few tourists were turfed out of the final pools of historical water. Then it was time to experience Baths modern baths.

Into the Thermae Baths and a solitary outing for my Aussie board shorts on this trip. Five floors of luxurious bathing facilities; consisting of foot tubs, steam rooms, a pool with spa and an awesome upper level. The roof consists of another pool, outdoors, but heated to a lovely temperature. Under the black night sky (again, great to be away from the orange night sky of London) I scampered in for warmth and only a minute or so in, lifting my head to take in the view…

The tips of Bathstone buildings could be seen illuminated along side the city’s cathedral and at the foot of the surrounding hills. Definitely one of the best facilities of it’s kind that I’ve visited in England…

After drying off, taking a few night shots around the city centre, a Pizza Express fuelled the car ride home… along with my first ever Espresso coffee; hopefully my last.

Several hours later, it was something like 2am. I’d been awake for 20hours straight and it was only now time to say goodbye to my old mate, Flee. I hugged her goodbye and then made another home-bound journey through the Dartford Tunnel and past Lakeside down the A13.

Move on now

Essex & London, UK

Just another Monday morning rolled around, and for this one I took a car ride into central London with Tim. I checked out his office/showroom and started taking pictures with my newest toy. I've never had a camera that makes that satisfying shutter release sound up till now and I have to admit, it sounded and felt great.

Onward I headed off to Oxford St, scampering in and out of the cold Febuary weather. A few T shirts here, a CD or two there... I was enjoying my London shopping expience. I continued to experiment with shutter speeds and apertures as I made my was pas Horseguards Parade and then past Nelsons Column. I eventually made it to the South Bank where I met Flee for lunch at the Slug n Lettuce.

I explored a little more after my bangers n mash; found a photographical exhibition and chatted to UK mates on local call charges rather than overseas.

The Sun dropped and the cold got more uncomfortable than I was comfortable with, so I headed for some final clothes shopping in an impossibly hot high street chain store before grabbing some nice Thai dinner and heading off home via the tube and overland C2C services.

***

Mum had timed her birthday well for my visit home, or maybe that should be the other way around. Either way, Sian had taken the day off of work and together, the 3 of us went for a cafe lunch in Leigh, a town located a little North East of home. Grove offered some tasty sandwiches before we browsed the little shops in the local precinct for mothers day cards and gifts. I delved off once again to take some pictures on this particularly cold and blustery day by the Thames Estuary.

That evening, it was Fonfara tradition to have a birthday meal followed by cake and gifts. In the background, some music eminating from dad's hi-fi as we pulled open some party crackers. Curry's all round, Megan aside who's little mouth hasn't quite adapted to the spices of India just yet.

Happy Birthday mum X

On Track

England - ...to the ReUniFon

I've already overtaken those leaving business class, and I'm almost skipping as I charge down Heathrows almost endless passages toward baggage reclaim. I see a vending machine selling yellow "Orange" Fanta. The nip in the air (even indoors) is typically English and I hear good music emanating from a radio station somewhere on route. Bag 1 is awaiting me, bag 2 arrives not too soon after. My brother Tim is there to collect me; unfresh from a day at the grind and traffic.

Hugs.HeathrowCarPark.M25ClockWise.A127.A13.Corringham.Home.Hugs

On the car ride home, my brother Tim asked me to give dad a call to let him know to start cooking dinner… he was planning to prepare a curry. I usually hate to cause a fuss and don't like to be an issue when someone else is cooking, but after 20 days of at least 2 curries per day, the first thing I didn't want, was rice with heavily seasoned/spiced meat & sauce. I'd been pining for some fish n chips for some time and so when the alternative was suggested, I could relax easy on the way back home.

After dropping Megan off to school, I was back on GMT. I headed over to Grays to meet up with the remaining workmates I used to earn a buck with nearly 6 years ago. Theobald Arms the venue, a pretty old pub that still smells of the smells that stuck to the carpet previous to the no smoking bans. Beer mats across the walls, and no VB, Carlton or Tooheys; one of the guys asked me if it was weird to be back; to which, I could only reply that it was not. For all the time that I had passed on the opposite side of the globe can't displace that feeling of localness, of home, even if that spark of nostalgia is the smell of 15 year old stale lager and cigarette smoke.

As the guys took it in turn arriving , it was like it was 2003 once more, if only for an hour or two.

After the pub, I visited another old mate Stuart at his place in Purfleet before heading home for some dinner and then going out for my first drink session. In it's 4th or 5th incarnation since it was built, the Sky Bar was a good bit of fun over in Festival Leisure Park… the night became morning and pretty soon I was staring down the barrel of a double barrel gun… with the prospect of being hungover for my re-union party the following day.

My brother Tim picked me up in the morning and together we took a train into Liverpool St, London. After a quick tube ride, we walked up cobbled streets from Embankment toward Covent Garden. After a terrible coffee, a moment of amazement overcame me, London is such an amazing city, still in many respects, the best I've seen in the world.

We located the Longacre in Covent Garden, and at around 1pm, I saw my last daylight of this Saturday. My cousin Mark and his wee son Joe were already waiting with beers and cokes respectively as an unexpected surprise. Jimbo and Flee arrived next; two people I've only ever met on the other sides of the world. By something like 5 o clock, our side of the pub was rocking and I was doing anything but sitting, making pleasent conversation.

My best mate Clive since around 5years old, mates from my job in Thurrock and newer friends made through travel intermingled with my brother and later my sister; the most extraodinary combination of people in one room at any one time for me personally. I kinda wish I hadn't already put a skinful of beer down me, so I could take in the moment a little more; but I am and was most appreciative for everyone making it along. The miracle of Facebook, for keeping me in such strong contact with people around the globe.

My gift to the evening was to bring out little drink habit direct from Sydney; the masterful mixture of a shot of Jagermeister dropped inside a tumbler of Red Bull... smashed back in seconds to reveal an awesome taste plus after effect... I think they went down pretty well ;)

As whatever time it was came around, Sian and Tim did the honourary sibling thing and dragged me away to catch the last train home... I'd forgotten about that pesky thing, though I'm sure it did me a favour in the long run. I recall chatting to some random Aussie from somewhere in NSW on the train ride home, almost like meeting a mate from home whilst being away... except I was home... and now very confused.

Vindaloo

New Delhi

Nick met us once again for some grub in the evening and after we took a stroll before wishing each other all the best before the next international meeting between the two of us might take place. In around 4 years, the two of us have visited a plethora of destinations from beach towns and festivals, to third world villages and sites of mass genocide, quite something considering we were brought together by a mutual love of sliding down snowy hills on planks of wood! I slept out the remainder of some anti-biotics and hoped for better feelings the following sunrise.

During the night, Aaron (of ‘my regular life’ fame) arrived in Delhi to join us… except I just about sleeping and off 24hours later, back to my homeland of Corringham – in a place called England.

Despite feeling ill, for that day, it was my desire to see as much of Delhi as possible. So myself and Aaron started by turning off the main roads and drinking Chai with locals. We got some poor fella to cycle us to the Red Fort, after tipping heavily and still not paying much more than a dollar, we checked out the fort; an internationally listed historical building. We later realised we did well in showing up early, as by the time we headed away, the place was starting to heave, just as the temperature started to gain momentum.

Without stopping for brekkie, I wanted something safe to eat, and Azz, well he was just hungry; so we fell past an armed guard beneath the Golden Arches for a bit of a Western, India style. With no beef for consumption in this part of the world, the Maccas menu looked pretty bare - with it's flagship burger being the chicken McMaharaja Mac. After some fries and a veggie burger, we were good to go.

Around lunch time we stumbled past Henna artists and succumbed (easily) to them doing some work on our skin. As the ink dried, we met up with the other guys for some lunch in a quirky little restaurant just near Connaught Place; the shopping Hub of Delhi.

We strolled about with no aims in particular as we discovered a shop selling Sitars. Our visit paid huge dividend in providing us one of the most memorable highlights of the trip; a live demo from an old sitar pro. He tuned, the plucked slowly for a while, before letting rip with the Indian equivalent of a Dire Straights solo section! A Western fix of a well known ice cream vendor put a smile on 5 boys faces as a mild afternoon sun started to dip.

I split with the guys for some last minute shopping and returned to them later with a full bag of stuff… and having escaped more business offers than I care to remember at any time of my life. One kid was offering to give my ears a clean with cotton buds, showing me his compliments book of past customers; I was quite happy to pass up on that one.

My final evening was spent with the guys eating a good (if slightly expensive!) meal at an Indian restaurant; though I guess in this particular case it was just "a restaurant".

The following morning I hugged the guys farewell; and began my trip from a skanky hostel in Delhi to a homely place in Essex. I was dropped at the “airport under repair” amongst a bit of controversy which I won’t detail here, and was soon in a dis-organised lineup for check in… before joining another slow moving lineup toward a customs check… before waiting for several unforeseen delays to the flight home.

Like stepping from black to white, hot to cold or a ruckus to silence, I was finally sat on a plane destined for the place I took my first steps. At this point it couldn’t come soon enough.

Say It Right

Srinagar, Northern India

I had packed my bags and left the wintry wonderland, completely high on life and looking forward to taking anything else on. Though as we descended back down to the standard level of living around these parts, my mood plummeted like a fat kid taking a fall, and it didn’t bounce back as I would’ve liked.

I was cramped in the front seat of the vehicle with a random Indian man, who had the gear shifter operated from between his loins the entire 100 minute trip. I had no sympathy for him, and I was caring only to be heading home – even though I still had several days of other visits to go. “ A house boat in Srinegar” was as much as I knew about the next 2 nights and days, and as we pulled up next to Dal Lake I was still in a pretty foul mood.

We were walked down to the boats by Mr Butt… which didn’t even make me snigger to hear, and shown into the front room of our home of 48hours and in 60seconds, I was higher than the kites that circled the lake insistently throughout the daylight hours.

It was like stepping back in time to colonial days gone by in India, a legacy left by the British if you like, a pot belly fire heating the room, couches and a large hard wood dining table partitioned by locally carved and designed wood work. Our personal butler would attend to us at the push of a buzzer and assist us with drinks, food and anything else he had power to muster.

I later found out that many of the groups moods had dropped much the same as mine had but we laughed it off and enjoyed real beer, and high quality cooked food for what seemed like a very long time.

The following morning, we set our alarms to wake us at 5.30am. Fifteen minutes later, we jumped on a smaller boat and were transported though darkness across Dal Lake. We had blankets and hot water bottles provided, that not a single man there was too masculine to decline the use of. Morning prayer accompanied the voyage, which some said sounded like “Little Drummer Boy”, though I reckon Bowie would’ve been hard pressed to see similarity. We observed Kashmiri’s trading at dawn as we sipped tea and ate fresh baked naan bread before heading back across the now highly reflective still waters of the lake. Enchanting, almost.

After some strongly craved internet time, Nick left for Delhi and the Taj Mahal, myself and Chris headed into the main city of Srinegar and the rest of the guys went for a trip around some gardens and a rug factory.

Quite an interesting wander; we saw mosques inside and out, tradesmen applying their livelihoods, without the almost standard sales pressure you’d get almost anywhere else in Asia and, lots and lots of kids playing cricket. I’m not exaggerating here, but they were everywhere, normal places like sports fields and schools, as well as down side streets, car parks and bus depots. They love it.

Despite only eating a bar of milky-bar, myself and Chris somehow picked up a case known in Latin as “Squitum-Vonbellhious”, or as we now refer to it; Delhi Belly. Chris was first to the thrown the following morning with me following in his stinky tracks soon after; only to ripen the smells further.

On a day where I was sick, I wasn’t really in the mood for any more Kashmir, or for that matter; India. The airport run was a serious drag, and after the bumpy (remember the state of my guts) ride, it was time for the highest volume of security checks ever performed at an airport. Now I understand that there is a war on in these parts, but six security checks, whereby you get ‘patted’ down and bags checked is a little OTT. The worst part is the efficiency of the checks; even with a mobile phone, some keys, a fairly solid camera and various other pocket junk, I was never even asked to turn out my pockets. Anyhoo, a quick departure lounge nap, a 1hour flight and a taxi ride in a little rascal of a vehicle and we were back in the Indian equivalent of civilization, less Chris who left for Brisbane.

Sunlight hits the snow

Gulmarg - a finale.


On our second Tuesday in Gulmarg, we found out that the forecast for the remainder of our stay would be ‘clear’. So for the first 10 days, we’d had unrelenting powder, and now we were to have my other favourite extreme of snowboarding conditions – Sunny cruisy days of having to wear very little in the way of insulation, along with awesome al fresco lunches at the foot of the mountain. The hunt for the untouched powder would also keep us more than entertained.

Our guide took us off the beaten track down some powdery gullies, and onward through the tree line to a village inaccessible by motor vehicle (at least, the wheeled variety) called Derang. On the way here, we entered a wide snow filled valley of snow pillows. It was relatively tough going on the legs as the track was so flat, but the views were some of the most amazing I’ve seen whilst strapped into my board. Here, local children greeted us shyly, and giggled and pointed at these strange looking white men wearing bulky synthetic clothing with huge over sized mirrored goggles. Some of the kids would come and stand on the back of our snowboards whilst we slid thru the village. Looking at what these kids had, we must look like space men gliding through on our shiny snowboards. I was a little aggrieved at having to rush through as quickly as we did, as it was a humbling experience to talk with these kids, and I didn’t get much of a chance to photograph things there as I would have liked.

Eventually we would arrive back at the main town of Tangmarg. After crossing a large flat bed river, the pathway elevated above the suburban sprawl and afforded us awesome snow capped views of thousands of Kashmiri’s homes. More kids would talk to us and practice their English, some would just ask to carry our board or ski’s whilst walking – for a ‘tip’ of course!

***

Fatigue was truly setting in with the group, and everyone took turns in sitting mornings and afternoons out with burned out muscle groups. Those of us left out, were happy finding stashes of north facing snow that hadn’t become sun baked. I was after the money shot with my camera, and it took several attempts, and a couple of occasions getting covered in snow… but I was happy with the final results:

With a couple of days riding left, I decided to hang back in bed for a morning to give me one last strong afternoon and a final day with the “don’t give a @#$%” attitude toward getting an injury. Myself and Nick headed up for a final couple of runs, though in honesty, we had now seen Gulmargs best offerings and now we were just chasing a dragon which we wouldn’t find. We trudged back from the cat-track to the hotel to discover the other lads had also headed back in early. They were midway through building up a couple of snow park features right out the front of our hotel. I gladly obliged in assisting and after a few hours of grueling work, we were ready to leave the features to set overnight for a final day not in the midst of tall trees, not standing 4000metres above sea level, but barely leaving our hotel.

Friday was bright and sunny, some of the older guys staying there opted to take the day off completely and sit in the sun and relax watching the younger guys do their best to hurt themselves. I like to point out that we saw our guide take a knock to his knee cap earlier in the week and saw the standard of the local hospital… and therefore it was that we would try extra hard not to land awkwardly, concuss or even break ourselves.

The kicker offered many pops of fun, Hux and Jubs the keenest to hit it hardest; my kicker best sadly a few years past, it would seem now. Luckily I was there to take so decent shots instead and of course look pretty for all the fine young looking, err, hold on – snow monkeys.

Midday past, and the sun started to dip. The temperatures dropped off quite rapidly and before we knew it, Gulmarg was dumping again. Big chunky flakes of snow fell around us. The brown tinged snow paths becoming virginal white again, the tracks in the snow we had trudged out, being filled again. Gulmarg tries her best to forget it’s guests as quickly as possible, and before we’d even left, near all evidence we’d ever been there had been erased from the sands of time.

Darkside/Lightside

Week 2 - Gulmarg

The whole group took a lay day at around the half way mark of the trip to let our muscles recover from the intensive time they had endured and we went to try out one of the only Western food joints in town. Apparently, there would be an internet connection there too! To our dismay though, the current power outage meant no pizza, and no computer connection for the internet. The dodgiest Chicken burger ever managed not to upset our stomachs and we wandered back to our hotel past the ice rink… which had about 30 men clearing 1 metre of snow from its surface. They would bring a large sheet of tarpaulin down to ice rink level, fill her up and sling it over their shoulders. This would then be emptied off in a heap 20metres away. I wasn’t envious of them.

It was Sunday, when, the second phase of the Gondola finally opened its doors to us. As we rose up to its final altitude of 3950metres above sea level, there were only several lines below us and we had the pick of fresh to gun through on our way to personal snow sport hedonism.

As it was our guide’s day off, we had to be careful, so with some caution we headed back down virtually under the gondola – the only “patrolled” area in all of Gulmarg.

This was what we had come to Kashmir for.

An 8 month wait finally at end, as we bombed the Kashmiri slopes and sprayed more white powder into the sky than any Columbian drug baron could ever dream of. I lead the pack momentarily, and spotted a small hill that had perfect snowfall on it, untouched, glistening like a diamond encrusted wedding gown. As fast as I could, I carved one huge turn, looking back to see a huge rooster tail of snow thrown skywards and into the sun; a temporary eyeful of daytime twinkle stars. I dropped back into the valley to see Chris drop a 6ft boulder, land and ride away… we were both in some kind of wonderland; Kashmiri wonderland.

I now have a new “happy place” that I shall return to many times in months and maybe years to come; this was one of the greatest feeling moments of my life.

***

As people around the world faced the ‘dread’, my Monday morning was filled with anything else but… well, aside from the physically demanding task of summiting Gulmargs highest peak. From the top gondola station, our gang strapped boards and ski’s to their packs, put heads down and strutted up hill toward what had been the highest point visible for the past week or so. Winds were sweeping across rapidly, and to look into the wind would cause an amount of pain I’d rather not think too much about. I trudged in others footsteps, and got higher and higher. Roger and I reached the dizzy heights of the summit together, high fived and set about photographing our surroundings as quick as possible. The only problem here was the temperature; around minus 20 degrees, had all but killed my camera battery, so a few shots before thinking about putting a snowboard back under my soles and getting away from these inhospitable temperatures.

As I awaited the rest of the group to attach their boards, my feet were yelling for help. They were the coldest I can ever remember them being. I wasn’t sure how they might react to having to steer me down a steep powdery mountain face. My bindings too, had frozen; I had a struggle trying to get them to lock into place. After they did, I took my turn in the first stage of descent, and to my annoyance, my left foot fell out of lock and I took a tumble. I whimpered down before I could get them fixed up.

Happily, the group including myself, made one of the best runs of the trip so far. Powder turn after wide, fast powdery turn… this is why I was here, this is why I went to Milton Keynes indoor slope all those years ago, this is snowboarding and the rush it gives me.

At The Foot of The Mountain

Gulmarg, Kashmir - Week 1

Gulmarg is Indias premiere snow sports resort. It has a 2 phase gondola section that gives a vertical rise of 3950metres. There are one or two drag lifts, but these are off limits to snowboarders… and they only service relatively flat areas anyhow. Once at the top of the Gondola, you can either ride one area of ‘patrolled’ terrain, or, if you’re experienced enough, you can go into some serious back country. It is for this reason you must have an avalanche shovel, a probe and a transceiver on you at all times.

The top phase of the Gondola is very subjectively open, and so on days when it is closed, there are many runs you can slash up under the tree line. The quirk here is though, you need a car to drive you back to the top.

Day one of our massively anticipated riding finally dawned. After breakfast, which was my first non-curry meal of the trip we congregated outside the hotel awaiting our guides arrival. The snow had stopped falling, and the sky was blue – it was almost too perfect to be starting this adventure in such beautiful fashion. Local dogs came to see what was happening, snow monkeys carried on with their business in the trees nearby and purple tinged crows flew over head as we tested avalanche beacon equipment. I’d sunk into the deep snow several times just heading over to where we would clip in, and as I knelt down to fasten my new board to my feet for the first time, I finally felt ‘on holiday’ – with all the long, lengthy, tiring traveling behind me.

I watched as a couple of others dropped off the snowy ledge and with the excitement now too much to bear, I too dropped in. My new Burton Fish surprising me with how easy it was to maneuver. A first look at the first phase of the gondola was something else to behold – bearing in mind, we still couldn’t see where it would finally end up – some 4000metres above sea level, for cloud cover still surrounded the upper peaks. The lift ticket system has been something that I think makes or breaks a good resort in Europe, America and Oceania – and I would quickly get annoyed if I had to dig out a pass each time I rode a lift; rather than an electronic pass system… Gulmarg has it’s own charm however. An Indian man sits in the corner near the pickup zone and sells each ride to you individually. In return you receive a voucher for your ride; the sponsors slogan mis-spelt “Stronger than the Stogest”. I decided this could get old quickly but didn’t realize how few times I would need to do this throughout the trip. To compare Gulmarg to anywhere else I’d ever been would be totally unfair however. This trip is the perfect fusion of my two favourite pastimes; traveling to remote locations, and sliding down snowy hills on carbon fibre core planks of wood.

At mid station, the relatively clear sky allowed our first looks of the mountain Affarwat, that just has to be seen to appreciate it’s full wonder. The peak still shrouded in cloud, and a queue solidly formed to get to the final phase of the lift, we rode the lower section several times. Fresh powder made the trips first few runs very enjoyable indeed, and each new run heralded a “better than the last run” feeling.

After a couple of these runs, we finally managed to jump on the gondola to the top station. The winds were blowing hard and the safety officer at the top informed us this would be the last run of the day; so to enjoy ourselves. And that we did. Although the light was as flat as a pancake, it was still easy to find untracked fields of fresh, and hit them at speed too. Before long, we had descended nearly back to mid-station, when I think I broke my personal record for fastest snowboard land speed along a cat-track.

As the snow fell, none of us realized that it would not be until the following Sunday that the top of the mountain would be accessible again.

The hotel continued to host us in charming Kashmiri style, the food was tasty, and dinners became romantic for the fact candles were oft used as the power failed several times per evening.

The storm which had shut down the upper gondola phase, raged on for several more days. I have never seen so much snow fall in such a short space of time, and so it was that every morning for most of the week, there would be plenty of fresh, and a constant snowfall. Since we were forced to stay low, we made the most of our guide Fayez, who showed us some awesome lines through the trees and along some steep challenging terrain that eventually delivered you at Tangmarg; a town based at the foot of the hill up to Gulmarg.

I attended an avalanche safety meeting on Tuesday evening which went some way to educating me of the dangers of back country snowboarding, and also gave a prediction of when the upper mountain would once again open – Friday lunch time at best, and this would be after several controlled detonations of explosives to shift some suspect avalanche hot spots.

The snowfall thinned toward the end of the week, and we lapped up the last of the untracked areas of fresh powder as the weekend landed. But still, by Saturday, we had only made one descent from the top station, way back on day 1… we were getting hungry and restless for all that fresh neige to be made available to us.

I'm Not Working

To India!

And just like that, I’m there… cruising the skies at several hundred miles per hour. I’ve had my last client, I’ve had my last experience of the rat-run and I’ve had my teary goodbyes. All that’s left now is 5 more additional hours to the 2 I’ve already killed till I reach Singapore. I’m being treated to a ride along in a new Airbus A380 along with the ability to plug in my USB memory stick and start word processing, rather than watch some brainless movies (of which I did also!) from the comfort of seat 52C.

***

My short experience of Singapore, incidentally comes exactly 2years after the day I flew out of Chiangi airport to Perth (not to mention 1 year since I made a trip to New Zealand for a visa run). I can see a thoroughly soaked runway through some windows, and an absurd amount of Fuscia bursting from every orifice they seemed to be able to grow a plant from through another. The taxi’s that wait to pick people up from the front look like crash test vehicles in a very plane and dull blue… I’m not regretful I won’t get to look around here further today.
***
Now back to more conventional means of mobile computing, I’m on my second flight from Singapore to Delhi, just shy of 5hours flight time, I’m now being blessed with a short, fat slightly disgusting Indian man sat next to me, who at around every 3 minutes, snorts the excess mucus from the back of his throat and then coughs without holding his mouth. He seems hell bent on getting everything he can from the in-flight menu too, I think I’ve counted 5 requests for peanuts… and they don’t even taste that good!

***

I’m a little sad to be sitting in the middle of the airliner as I miss the descent into Delhi – my foray onto Indian soil, but I get my dose of culture soon enough as I make it out through passport control and into baggage… My snowboard bag is waiting there for me, albeit with several wet boot prints on the top, so just my clothes to come now… What seemed like an hour with the hunger that was starting to build in my belly passed me by and I was finally on my way out to the hoards of taxi pimps awaiting my pickup.

Luckily one of those guys had a clipboard with my name on it, and I was able to kick back and let someone else take care of the rest of the evening.

I made friends with a few other guys here to snowboard, and we all laughed at the crazy Indian highway code “Beep to be seen” code of conduct. From the moment I got out of the plane, the air smelt like something had been burning that shouldn’t have been, like when you see a tire on fire on some derelict land; the atmospheric sky both foggy, smoggy and unclear.

I was soon at the airport hotel and was re-united with my old travel companion Nick, who’d flown in today also; from New Zealand. That’s another country we’ve traveled to together. It’s about 10pm local time when I think about sleep, though my body thinks it’s 3am and so I drift off into slumber as quick as I had anticipated. Sydney catches up with me at 2.30am local time when my body thinks it should be getting up for work, gotta love jet-lag!

***

So now everyone had made it to Delhi, and a day that had lasted 29 hours instead of 24 was behind me, we could all sit down to breakfast to compare travel stories and expectations of what lay ahead of us in Kashmir. The spicy curry breakfast was about as Indian a welcome as you could get.

Back through the crazy Delhi traffic, where vehicles seem to be able to travel whichever way they feel, along any roads and around roundabouts – most junctions and by-ways seem to serve more as an obstacle to most drivers than something that forms order and safety on the roads. We arrived at the airport where we checked in, and even had to go and ID our luggage out on the tarmac before it was loaded onto the airliner. It was also here that we would discover something of a recurring theme in India; the power cut. The domestic terminal plunged into darkness a couple of times, though the public don’t really panic… it’s just normality here.


We landed in Srinegar, Kashmir amidst a much cleaner air than we had so far been used to in India. As we walked across the tarmac to the terminal building, armed soldiers were periodically posted to check all was in order. The conflict between India and Pakistan that has continued since the earlier stages of the last century, still casting doubts over the future of Kashmir.

Out in the near-zero temperatures with our bags, we walked out of the airport along a muddy lane lined with barb-wire fences, I felt more like a Prisoner Of War than a tourist; the locals equally interested in us and our long board bags as we were them, and there traditional winter attire.

Once our gear was loaded onto the car roofs, our drivers sped off along the rubble streets and then onto tarmac. Many shanty style houses were there, though strangely, much like the new terminal building being erected, extremely modern blue reflective glass buildings popped up; that wouldn’t look out of place in Dubai or any major modern city.

Some brief flashes of snow covered peaks, and the weather was cooling rapidly – as we arrived at what seemed to be the last town before the bendy roads that would lead us to our home for the next fortnight. Local men mulled around our cars for no particular reason, it was quite unlike any other snow resort I’d ever approached before.

As we started up the final roads to Gulmarg, the snow was falling hard and the roads became more treacherous. Our driver seemed a little too naïve for my liking, and didn’t seem to realize that a vehicle has more traction the more gear notches you go. As a result we got stuck, many, many times. The other half of our group would arrive at the hotel a whole hour earlier than we did and for all my efforts, I just couldn’t educate the driver. He finally saw some sense and got the snow chains out, except in true Kashmiri style, there was only one – which meant the back end of our car was constantly fighting ahead of the other side of the car.

Regardless we were happy to finally get to the snow covered hotel in Gulmarg, still with snow landing heavily around us.