Good Evening all my fellow South Africans, Happy Freedom Day!
This may come as a shock to all you that know me as a materially obsessed, 'anorexic in mind' wannabe Blair Waldorf (for you ignoramuses she's the hot brunette in Gossip Girl.)
But I am proud to announce that I am giving up all material possessions and am going to live and practice under Yogi Sharmanana in Goa, India as of the next lunar eclipse. We practice principles such as following the dolphins' ripples in the ocean and the whispers of the palm fronds. Here we will coat ourselves in coconut milk and be blessed by Shiva and Shakti, the sacred Hindu gods.
Ok for any of you who actually believed that, tsk tsk. I've just had 2 glasses of pinot grigio (didn't have ANY in India) and 'Sharmanana' rhymes with 'Banarama' so thought I would give it a bash. So I am finally back in the Western World, who knew it held such brimming promise and virtue?
Anyway back to my extraordinary adventure in India. Ti and I jetted off on the 1st April and arrived in Delhi, this is after I loaded myself with Chanel perfume and Clinique Mascara at Duty Free where I still envisaged that I was going to look 'Safari chic'. Hmm.
We arrived in a blanket of heat at Delhi International. Katie Pitman welcomed us with beautiful marigold laurels that looked pretty until a caterpillar crawled out of mine and I almost had heart failure. I was charmed by the hooting, tooting, buzzing and heady hum of the Delhi traffic. Oh how darling the barbers and limejuice makers were, how pretty the oleanders and flame trees were that blazed along the rubbish ridden road.
Delhi made my head spin. I have never seen so many people in my life. I think they should take a leaf out of China's book in the future and implement the one child policy. It was hot, dizzying in fact, like 47 degrees Celsius, my makeup couldn't handle it, I had to resort to no makeup or hairdryer, no sleeveless tops or short skirts. Basically I had to transform from a Western hoochie into a subservient woman - ok not quite. I do tend to exaggerate. For once I wasn't lapping up the male attention that is showered on me. I thought Western men were unsubtle, but these guys take it to another level, you could basically see them leaning over the toll booth with their tongue rolling out at a piece of pale western flesh, but I guess, fair enough.
So the first weekend we went to the most stunning palace called Patardi Palace. It was built and then nurtured by Colonial England. You could just imagine 40's clad, pretty white English girls nursing Mint Juleps with their uniformed, stiff husbands standing awkwardly at their side, while their Indian servants lugged their trunks to their rooms.
It was so pretty, the gardens dripped with fragrant roses and trellises of star jasmine. Walls of vibrant tangerine and crimson bougainvillea coloured the landscape. Peacocks lazily strolled the grounds while kingfishers dived in the pool and oriels let out their haunting call. To make you jealous, Patardi Palace housed Julia Roberts and her family for a month while she filmed 'Eat, Pray, Love' and Ti and stayed in the room she stayed in, aptly named 'Pretty Woman'.
The pool was gorgeous, we drank salty lime juices as we lazily read on chaise lounges and I got stuck into Stieg Larsson’s Millennium series (ok who else thinks he was a dirty perve in real life?) We swam, we slept, we played badminton and drank pastis on the roof, and it was epic.
The next day we went to Goa. The flight was hilarious. You know how in the Western World one turns up their nose in disdain to those who dare to clap at take off? Well, no such thing in India, it was swinging Samoosa parties, cheering, chanting, standing and socializing on this ride.
We got to Goa and hitched a lift in a mini van adorned in fake tiger fur - in 40 degree Celsius humid heat. After fearing for my life after swerving donkeys, dogs and god knows what else, we arrived in Agonda in South Goa. It was beautiful and tranquil. We settled in for a couple of days and had long walks on the beach, swam in the warm sea, watched fisherman at dusk haul in their catch of the day. We admired the sacred cows on the beach and oohed and ahhhed at horses galloping at sunset. We slept, read, and practiced yoga at dawn on a roof with views of the ocean and swaying palms.
We ate curries, strangely lots of boiled eggs on toast and I drank a few mojitos and G & T's... I didn’t have one cig or hangover this holiday so I might be able to proclaim 'I am a new woman'! The first place we stayed at, reminded me of a Doll house crossed with a shack, one where every hippie had stayed in the past. But as I was with the McCarthy’s and didn’t want to substantiate that I am the biggest snob ever, I tried to tolerate the smell that exuded from the grubby sheets- I had to sleep with my Gap shirt as a pillow and Ti and I were in hysterics about the manky mosquito net. The bathroom had a pink bucket and the shower was over the loo, uh uh I couldn't deal with that after one night. Not this South African Princess.
The next day I was fully happy to fork out for ‘luxury’. Luxury came with fuchsia pink covers and zebra striped cushions next door (very Ibiza in the 90s). It was actually amazing in comparison to the last place; we had an outdoor shower, a day bed on our patio and undisturbed views of the ocean 20 meters in front of us. You know you're getting old when you appreciate silence and sanctity. No hawkers, hippies or haberdashery, just undiluted relaxation.
We went to Palolem for the day where I proceeded to confuse 50 and 500 Rupee notes and mused why the locals gave me beaming grins for a few quaint souvenirs. Drinking luke warm Pina Coladas and eating rubbery calamari, we idly watched local Indian boys get drunk with Western woman and stumble in the ocean, (for the Indian boys, it's a status to ‘kiss’ a white woman and for the Western woman, it's a bonus to get a six pack laden local boy that wants a bit of fun). Additionally, so many sari clad hawkers admired our pale skin and exclaimed that white = prosperity and freedom. How hectic but true. They were entranced by my feather earrings from Accessorize, all the men laughed at me and said the feathers were sacred, which led me to believe I was part of some cock and bull story so to speak.
After a sumptuous few days in South Goa, we moved to North Goa and went to one of the best restaurants of my entire life. A sheer cliff, dancing palm trees and the deep ocean was the centre point of this Greek restaurant in Vagadore. Wow, you have NEVER seen anything like it. The beach huts we were staying in next door were amazing and a bargain at about £8 a night! Right next to the restaurant, we were watching the sun go down and Katie and I noticed a massive splash in the sea, it was wild dolphins literally jumping out of the water, it was like Sea World gone mad. What a memorable and humbling sight!
We then moved on to uber luxury of Goa. We stayed in exquisite white canvas tents decorated with a Philippe Starke twist and even better, owned by a gorgeous French man. Splashes of turquoise and blue featured throughout the tent from the cushions, to day beds and lanterns. We went with a few expats from Delhi and it was so much fun. From the scattered pomegranate seed fruit salads in the morning to La Plage, the understated and French beach restaurant that served fresh fish and a mean cashew and green papaya salad, it was bliss.
After a dreamy week in Goa we went back to Delhi for a couple of days and then Ti and I headed to Agra to see the Taj. We know it's one of the 7 wonders of the world, but for the life of us couldn't recall all 7, can you? We took a train from Delhi and as Tia and I pondered over all of the people squatting along the railways, I got stuck into the 'Times of India', and drank Darjeeling tea and munched on sugar and aniseed as a refresher. The Taj as you can imagine was exquisite, a site to be seen. Afterwards we decided to go to the Oberoi and have lunch and splash out, it's like the poshest hotel in India hmm, like the Mount Nelson in Cape Town. I had smoked salmon and buffalo mozzarella and wine, and ironically my most expensive meal in 3 weeks made me so ill afterwards.
To add to this adventure, we were picked up by a truly psychotic driver who was taking us from Agra to Jaipur. He had his hands permanently on the hooter of his car and swerved everything from camels to downtrodden Tatas and mammoth trucks - without the bat of an eyelid. It made Hoi Chi Min and Manila look tame in comparison. I literally thought I was going to die at least 1000 times. I kept on nodding off but was rudely awakened every five minutes by the abrasive hooting. I was also desperate for the loo after glugging back liters of water and Coke out of dusty glass bottles. I looked out for a spot in the bush to go as one does in South Africa in the Karoo, as there was no ways I was going to public loos, but that's when I realised that quite literally, not a piece of India is left to the land, there are people EVERYWHERE!
Said ‘acid’ ridden driver drove us to Jaipur, the 'Pink City', in Rajasthan. It was painted Pink when Queen Elizabeth or some such royalty visited and the tradition and ceremony has remained. We arrived at sunset, just as the sun cast a rosy glow on the city. It looked like a burning ember; I will never forget the colours and energy of Jaipur. We got to our hotel and immediately jumped into the pool, a little hidden oasis. As we lazily floated in the pool, Tia had a mini panic attack at the bats that skimmed our heads as dusk approached.
The next day we went to Amber Fort in Jaipur and rode up on an elephant to the top. I was silently freaking out, due to the smell, heat, height and petrified the ellie behind me would try and bonk mine, luckily they are all girls. Amber Fort was transfixing, a place where Royal Rajasthanis resided for centuries.
We then went to a hand printing fabric museum (think Liberty of London) and then local fabric shops that were adorned with brightly coloured Rajasthani umbrellas. We haggled for reams of beautiful table cloths, quilts and sheets, ones that made Oka and Anthropologie look pitiful in comparison. We also picked out glittering gems and I bought a beautiful champagne coloured quartz that I intend to have made into a glittering rock on my finger seen as though I can’t seem to nab a husband to do the same with a black diamond…
*End of Part 1*
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