Drama in a Rickshaw Picture this. You are in an auto-rickshaw which is stuck in an interminable traffic jam. It is over forty degrees and sweat is glistening on every inch of your skin; you can feel your clothes wet with perspiration against the plastic covered seat of the rickshaw. The vehicle is laden with bags of stuff that you are moving to your friend's house. At the side of rickshaw a succession of children's faces appear; they are selling magazines, whic...

Apologies for the radio silence folks, I've been happily distracted by visits from my family; first from Emma and her husband Richard, who I met up with in Goa and then by my parents who came here to Delhi from where we did a few side-trips as well. Had a fabulous time and promise to fill you in soon, in the mean-time here are the photos of Goa to be going on with! Hope everything is well with you all X

A world of meaning in just one wobble! When I first arrived in India my communication with the local people frequently resulted in confusion, frustration and dead ends. Much of this, I believe, can be attributed to the infamous Indian head wobble. See example: Me: Is this the way to the YWCA? Local: Head wobble Me: Yes? Local: Head wobble Me: No? Local: Head wobble Me: Do you understand English? Local: Head wobble Me: I give up! Other questions such as &qu...

Gloat of the day! Now that it is officially summer, the swimming pool round the corner from me has opened its doors to the public. I went for the first time today - it was utter bliss! The staff on reception did look a bit non-plussed when I asked them when the busy times were; "It's not really the season yet Mam" they explained. Apparently only strange foreigners and teenaged boys are crazy enough to swim when it's a mere 30 degrees. So apart from a ...