Live, let Live...

Sometimes what comes later becomes a revelation in light of what came just before it, visiting Pushkar after Bali was something in the same nerve. A very simple analogy would be the serendipity to hear Nina Simone-Feeling Good play after Bill Withers-Ain't no Sunshine..
These two beautiful songs share something magical, they evoke a certain vibe, a certain mood and a strength of emotion that perfectly complements each other..

Driving down Bali was a tour of green and refreshing waters-nestled in green hills, terraced rice fields and flanked by beaches. Pushkar landscapes are essentially a palette of brown, with wisps of green acacia and desert hardened trees. The bare hills stare at you, brown in the sunlight and black in the shadows.
Pushkar in March is not the most ideal choice; it is really hot and gearing to get scorching hotter in
the coming months, but you forget everything once the magical evening descends. The Ghats surrounding the lake is where the magic happens; it’s an entrance to a different world. The facade of the main entrance ghat is fashioned like characteristic Rajput forts and looks majestic. It captures the lore of the bygone era in its soft whiteness. The swans paddling the lake adds to the royalty of the ghat. The constellation of small temples around the lake gives it a cozy feel and their twinkling lights complement the small lamps placed by the devotees lining the lake. The brown hills in the distance mirror perfectly in the waters of the lake and one can read the meandering pathway flanked by little light bulbs leading to the temple on the top of the peak.

Perhaps other religious places with water bodies can boast of a similar ambience, however this felt more personal-like a favorite passage in a book carefully marked for later reference. It also helped that the ghat was less crowded and one could take in the panoramic view without any rush or elbowing. The warm embrace of the chanting, hymns, conch sounds makes the heart sing the same tune inwardly and be at peace with everything around.

Pushkar is one of the oldest existing cities of India, is one of the five sacred dhams (pilgrimage site) for devout Hindus. Both Bali and Pushkar are living centers of Hindu faith, rooted in mythology, with temples and religious symbols at the turn of each corner.  Also both are flourishing centers of arts and culture, music and dance.
It is like a common creative force pervades the air at the two places, inspiring the artisans and giving their arts an authentic flair. Its a pleasure browsing through the collections in small shops selling colourful cotton dresses, metal, wood crafts, leather articles and everything else(or maybe a power bank is what you need)...
The air here also attracts a certain strain of traveler’s-weary souls inquisitively staring into the lives of people with faith and promise of Nirvana. Dressed in local hand printed cotton grabs, with matted hair and bare feet; they flock here from different parts of the world and just fit in with enviable ease. Ah! the charm of the hippie lifestyle..
I saw a tall white man, lovingly feed a cow on the main road, the two seemed to have a communion of their own. It was the same bonhomie around, congregation of men and women in hazy eyes and some with clear blue, green and brown eyes wearing a gentle smile. They waved and hi-fived the locals, who shouted back with a sheepish grin.
The live and let live mantra..

The two song playlist to sample the mood:
Bill Withers: Ain't No Sunshine
Nina Simone:Feeling good

Walk of Life..

It’s the same old pair of shoes; with a slight pick swoosh in the blue body. They have lasted longer than their brethren, been the most accommodating, never biting on the edges, never selectively abusing the right foot, never giving you the urge to peel them away just to let the feet stretch and breathe for a while. They just ‘sit’ perfectly and ‘walk’..

However yesterday was a strange ‘shoe day’, I must have tied my shoe lace almost 10 times in the course of the day. The morning was particularly awful, with a muffled yawn I would bend down to tie the knot only to find it come undone in another short while.
Evening was just the same, I finished one lap of the harbor front and before I could embark on the second lap, the shoe lace had come undone again. With racing breath; feeling the throbbing of the blood against my temples, I bent down to tie the shoe lace again, a little more tightly this time around.

The ‘butterfly effect’ is a beautiful metaphor in the echelons of chaos theory; at least I am a firm believer. Small, seemingly unrelated things sometimes are a pre-cursor of the things to follow. If this theory seems too abstruse, try to look at the daily rhythm of your life, focus on the seemingly unconscious things. You will probably realize that a shoe lace that comes undone every few minutes in the course of a day is not really about the shoe..

Interestingly there is a ‘Walk of Life Project’, a cinematic endeavor to prove the hypothesis that “Walk of Life” by Dire Straits is the perfect song to end any movie.
https://laughingsquid.com/how-the-dire-straits-song-walk-of-life-provides-a-perfect-ending-soundtrack-to-any-film-of-any-genre/

I’ll just use it to end the blog and rest my case...

Bali thoughts and recollections…

I felt an instant kinship with Bali, a feeling of sharing a common heritage. To put it more simply it felt like finally meeting a maternal cousin in flesh, who had existed so far only in conversations (of joy and distress) and holiday pictures.

In our social interaction we always try to seek similarities, the first level could be a very democratic terrain like sports, books, music, movies or any such activities. The next level could lean towards social and geographical familiarity like hometown/schooling, country/language if you are in an alien environment.(People back home are always interested to know if there are any Paharis around.. all is good if one exists!)
I do not invest much stock in religion; however in Bali I realized the bonds of common religious roots-Hinduism. It was an interesting exchange to indulge in conversations and stories about Ramayana and Mahabharata with our hosts.

The Bali Hindu still looks upon India as the mother ship of Hinduism; however he has distilled the essence of Hinduism in his unique island traditions and created a version which has its own distinct identity and sustenance.
I may not know the deeper theological similarities and differences between Indian and Balinese Hinduism but just at a visual and perceptive level, the Balinese Hinduism appeared more accessible to the uninitiated. The external manifestation of Hindu beliefs in the arts, architecture, dance forms and daily rituals is idyllic and approachable. Looking beyond the aesthetics one can sense something deeper- Hinduism as a way of life. It truly feels like the serenity and humility of the ubiquitous prayer baskets and offerings is imbibed in each island soul.

The cultural beauty of Bali is complemented perfectly by the richness and diversity of the physical landscape. We stopped by a couple of beaches, and each one had a different character and feel.
The beaches in Bali are a big draw for the surfers and it is good fun to watch their antics. For the newbies there are surfing lessons or alternatively you can rock the waves freestyle, time your jump to the swell of the wave and let it carry you before it breaks.
I was mesmerized by the magical sunset at Seminyak beach; you can see the distinct outline of this orange ball as it disappears behind the horizon. It was not a lingering fuzzy sunset but a spectacle that has precision of shapes and movement. I have never seen such distinct outlines of the sun and the horizon, also the movement of the setting sun is very palpable. I was aware of the speed of the setting sun as I was trying to focus for the perfect shot (which I missed!)

Padang Padang beach sure looks like Nature’s secret, with huge cliffs hiding it from plain sight. As you walk down the steps cut in the rock leading to the beach, you realize early on that you are being led on to a secret. This is a picturesque beach surrounded by cliffs and lush greenery, there are boulders around for people to find there own secluded spots. This beach may not be a good area for swimming as there is a lot of shallow rock and the mister managed to spot an odd sea snake but it is a nice shaded beach to sit back, relax and watch the surfers chase the waves.(this beach seemed very popular with the serious surfers)


We also stopped by the newbie Pandawa beach, which reminded us of Boarcay, Phillipines with its white sands calm turquoise waters. The government has made serious efforts to woe tourists to this beach-the convenient access road cut through the high limestone cliffs, the mythological figurines for the selfie stick tourists and convenient parking lots, its all well laid out.

The other major highlights of the trip included the early sunrise hike of Mt Batur(an active volcano).

It was a surreal experience to climb up the summit covered in black volcano ash- the local tour guides call it 'black snow' soft and slippery(downhill almost felt like skiing)! Climbing down the summit we shouted a 'hi!' to the caldera and we could hear the sound bounce and echo all the way to the very bottom.
There was steam coming out from different nooks and slopes like a chain smoker mountain- small steam from under a stone, steam sauna cave with the smell of minerals and what not!
It was a cloudy day so we could not see the sunrise, but it was a magical morning nonetheless. The darkness of the night turning into Prussian blue, the black shroud covering the lake Batur slowly slipping away revealing the gentle waters below. The black shadows of the hills right across conjured into their distinct tops and standing at the summit we saw the lowly clouds floating over the valley below.

I would like to be all poetic about the temples, the traditional dances, the prayers and the festivities but I am a lazy writer so I will just wrap up saying that locals take pride in their culture and they welcome you warmly to be a part of it.
Ubud is a shoppers paradise looking for artistic bric-a-brac, one can also visit the villages and workshops and learn more about the crafts and craftsmen. I guess it would be like 'Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory experience', but for us it will have to be next time...

We travel for different reasons, people can interpret and explore the same place in completely different trajectories. In a short 5 day trip, we sampled different flavors of Bali and covered the key tourist attractions. We learnt some new things and came back curious about others. We also realized that for some things 5 days is just not enough- like understanding what makes people tick or understanding a culture.

Anyways for someone planning a quick trip to bali, here is our sample itinerary (5 days 4 night)
3 nights in Ubud:
Day 1: Relax at the resort(enjoy the private pool), Ubud centre, lunch and dinner at Warung- local Bali food
Day 2: Mt Batur sunrise hike and visit to coffee plantation (booked tour package online http://www.balitrekkingtour.com/). Massage after the hike and a relaxed evening watching Kecak fire dance performance(schedule available online for location and timing of different dance forms)
Day 3: Relaxed morning and then hired a taxi for the afternoon tour: rice fields, Taman Ayun & Tanah lot sunset
1 night in Kuta:
Day 4: Kuta hotel checkin, sunset at Seminyak
Day 5: Kuta beach in the morning and hired a taxi in the afternoon to explore south Bali beaches all the way to Uluwatu temple. Evening headed back to the airport for our real early morning flight.

New Year-the New talk!

We have been raised on the dose of the ‘New and improved’ advertisements (Seinfeld’s rant) and the ‘New is better ‘philosophy (Barney’s mantra, HIMYM). An old men vs. women joke, also informs us that women are more enamored by the ‘New’. The joke goes like this-men and women mean different things when they say they have nothing to wear- men meaning nothing clean to wear and women implying that they have nothing ‘New’ to wear.
Now that I have quoted all the scientific research in the field, we can try to talk about some basic concepts and definitions. New is all about breaking the monotony of the old routine, sometimes it is a tangible/physical change like using a new toothbrush in the morning. The new one is different from the old, the bristles are firm and shapely, and the design or handling is improved. It doesn’t taste of toothpaste yet, it feels alien to the tongue, its feel is not yet familiar, it is new.
We might not always experience that in your mouth newness when we grudgingly wake up and dress up to go to work/school each day but since each day follows its own trajectory unlike a time loop (think ‘Edge of tomorrow’), each day is a New day. It comes with newer flavors, opportunities, challenges (or does it really?)
I can still buy the idea of a ‘New’ day each day but I have a bigger bone to pick with the idea of the ‘New Year’. It is a completely invented entity, one we have to go to great lengths to give legitimacy (lunar calendar, solar calendar, some calculation of time). The whole pageantry, the parties and the hoopla around the plain old ritual of the clock striking 12:00am, it is all an exaggerated attempt to fake ‘Newness’. Nothing really changes or turns new overnight, but there you have it folks- Happy New year 2016!

For all my trivialization of the annual ritual, I am a co-conspirator in the whole New Year charade. I may not be the elite 12 a.m. brigade but in the hallowed company of the elite I try to blend in. Sometimes I go a step further, gather the troops (a reluctant hiker husband) and undertake an ambitious hike to mark the special occasion. We planned to do the 15.5 km Plover cove country trail to ring in the New Year. At the end of the day I had a surplus, a personal best of 26 km of ground covered (the walk along the main dam and the vehicular road to the bus terminus and all the km in between)
We managed to get out of the apartment by 8:15am, the plan was to get breakfast on the go and have a buffer of 1.5 hrs to reach the starting point of the hike. Two things happened; our quick vegetarian breakfast option-Subway sandwich was not open in the morning leaving us to grab some pathetic veggie-morsels at Starbucks and then we found ourselves waiting for the mini bus for almost an hour (courtesy high turnout of New Year hikers and picnic families at the nearby waterfall)
There was also the thing when a mini bus (16 seats) had just a single vacant seat left and so we waited for the next one to come along. When the next one showed up (one with no bus number-probably a stop gap arrangement to clear the rush), we tried to double check with the driver if this one would stop at the Bride’s pool (trail's start point), the driver didn’t speak English and some co-passengers tried to communicate on our behalf. After a brief back n forth in Cantonese we were told that this wasn’t the right bus and we should take another minibus (the one which must have made 10 pickups since we waited for this one). Disappointed and a little cross we disembarked from the bus, only to be hailed back by our helpful interpreter family; there was much excitement and jubilation in Cantonese and I profusely thanked everyone in English, the Mister managed a meek Cantonese thank you (the back to the gallows version!)

The reason why I told this elaborate story is because we were in a similar predicament in another short time span. We climbed the first ascent to Ma Tau Fung (295m above the lowlands) with no soul in sight and reached the trigonometric station at the top. There was a big warning sign, which minced no words to say that the hike was challenging and retrace your steps if unprepared-no turning back beyond this point.
We were low in morale given a lame breakfast, long wait at the bus stop and found the first leg of the hike not very endearing under the sun so we took the warning to heart.
We surveyed our equipment-no hiking sticks, our supplies-energy bars, 1 bottles of water another bottle of ion water each, a bag of apples and some oranges. We were both concerned about the time in hand to complete the hike, it was 11:45 am (nearly mid-day), and the estimated time for the remaining hike was 6.5-7 hours, roughly in the ballpark of the less reliable winter daylight. I had packed the small pocket torch but we both agreed that we could not negotiate the treacherous country trail in the dark. I guess there was another factor in play, we had not met another person on the trail so far. It seemed all the hikers had made an earlier headway, we could hear some distant laughs but they could very well be the jungle fairies, who you should  not trust!

We put down our bags, sat down on the hill slope gobbled up some oranges and mutually agreed that the wise thing to do was to turn back and attempt the hike again with a better plan of rations and time. With a final resigned air of defeat we began to make our way back, our plan was to go back to city and watch Star wars (not sure which would earn us more loser points- quitting the trail midway or the fact that we had not yet watched the movie..)
When we attempted the first section of the MacLehose trail the year before (blissfully unmarried at that point), we were quitters. One year later after a couple of legitimate hikes under our belt, we had gathered the confidence to attempt a real country hike but we were still susceptible to the cold feet.

We were making our way back when we ran into a female with whom we had established an acquaintance a while back. I don’t have any memory of seeing her in the long bus queue but she had witnessed our episode at the minibus and apparently recognized us the next time we ran into each other (guess it is not much of a task to recognize two confused Indians in a hiking trail). On our first encounter we were taking pictures at the start of the trail and she was headed in the opposite direction towards the waterfall, we had exchanged some pleasantries and then each went their separate way.

Our second exchange with the women went like this- I told her that we were quitting the hike and she said she was attempting the hike solo. I wished her well and started to climb down the hill. But the Mister had a sudden change of heart at this point, for reasons unknown to me (wink-wink). It was a split second decision and we were back on the hike.

This hike was no doubt challenging, the length being a factor but primarily it is a basic country trail with scant niceties like paved paths or gentle steps. You had to constantly adapt yourself to the terrain, sometimes you are on all fours taking measured steps; next you are doing a steady run down the hill and occasionally gripping or holding small shrubs and brushes to break the momentum. The Luk Wu Tung slope, that local hikers call 'Falling Dog' is quite a challenge with loose rock on a steep slope. The stones kept changing colors, first they were a shade of purple like the shirt I was wearing, after a while the stones were reddish in color, but all in all they were just as tricky! A long stretch of the hike was along a ridge line overlooking the reservoir and there were occasional sign of warning for the steep cliffs. Some sections of the trail were well shaded, the roots of the trees made for an easy staircase to climb uphill but the evil leaves tried to get you on the descent. Some part of the trail also has stone steps nailed to the ground though some felt a little wobbly and you had to carefully watch your step. I was just happy that we were climbing down the stairs and not making our way up like some hapless souls.
The occasional distance posts were not much harbingers of hope, you always fell short of your expectation in terms of the distance covered. A heartfelt curse naturally escapes your lips when after nearly 2 hrs of non-stop walking; the post reads 11km remaining..

All long the hike I was torn between the feeling of achievement and the vanity of it all. It felt like a cruel joke to climb up the hills, then descent to the foot of the hill only to repeat the routine again. You overtook people on your way and tried to shorten your breaks to maintain your lead, a little competition does no one any harm!
Initially we didn’t come across anyone for a very long stretch, it was just us and the lady hiker. Slowly as we covered ground we came across people of all fitness level, walking along in different groups-friends, couples, families; however our North Star maintained a steady lead all along. She was the lone warrior negotiating the treacherous slopes and steep climbs with a stick in hand and taking pictures of all distance grid posts as she conquered them one by one. At the end of the trail we spotted her once again, briskly covering the flat expanse of the dam.

What a joyous reward it was to sit on the concrete walls and take in the sight of the lake on one hand

and the sea on the other side of the wall. The fresh sea winds that hit you have just the right invigorating bite. The reservoir we had circling was quite an engineering feat and a bold undertaking, it was the world’s first attempt to construct a lake from an arm of the ocean. Its main dam was one of the largest in the world at the time of its construction, disconnecting Plover Cove from the sea.

Tasting sweet victory I reflected on the perennial Shakespearean question-to hike or not to hike. My thoughtful response would be, suit your vanity-hiking is a healthy one at that. Different people find their mojo in different activities; hiking is just one of the drugs in the market. Passions change with time but this one has stayed a dear one for me, its like the childhood rhyme:“Make new friend, but keep the old..The New ones are silver, the old ones are gold!!!!”

PS: This is a long and not at all helpful post about hiking Plover cove reservoir.

Happy Place

Let’s talk about the human mind and banks, the common theme being the act of depositing and withdrawing at a later point.
You put your money in the bank and when you go to withdraw it stays the same-you get the same currency you deposited. Once upon a time you could earn some interest, but then again interest rate is a function of various economic factors, inflationary/deflationary trends which makes it discretionary (for banking institutions) and not entitlement (for the depositor)..

The human mind on the other hand is a strange beast, it records every single moment then taints it with our personal biases, interpretations, emotions and isolates the ‘happy’ and the ‘sad’ moments. Think of these two moments as separate currencies which the mind deposits into two different accounts assigning different interest rates. The catch is that at any point you can withdraw from only one account. The interest rate calculation is a complex zero sum game, if one account appreciates the other depreciates accordingly. Further the frequency with which you withdraw from an account determines the interest rate assigned to that account, the more you use the account the higher the interest rate. Humans are slaves of habits, they quickly turn into people who trade primarily in either one of the two currencies, thus for some people the past is always rosy (happy memories) and for others when they look back, all they gather are thorns..

The rosy folks shouldn’t do the victory dance just yet; the curse of the rosy eyed is that they often fall in the trap of comparing the past with the present. They fail to appreciate the beauty of the present because the past always looks more alluring to them. People, places, occasions, festivities, friendships from the past always trump the present in some way.

Yet there is a treasure of happy memories which fills the heart with profound joy and cannot be tainted by petty comparisons. You think of these people, places at your darkest hour and they have the power to pull you out of the abyss. Sure, there is a pang, a whiff, a feeling of loss if you know that you cannot run and claim that sanctuary ‘today’ but somehow just the thought that they ‘were’ there for you fills your heart with a warmth of optimism-this too shall pass..

I could also add that there are some happy food memories that can just as well 'fill' a hungry stomach. I have evoked many a happy food memories to lull myself to sleep when I crave a quick bite at odd hours at night.

Here I wanted to paint a visual picture of one such happy place for me. I visited my paternal native place in the hills when I was a toddler and after a really long time I made this trek again this year. Between now and then, I just had some old pictures of a feverish child clinging to her parents and grand dad in front of the stony facade of the old house and making offerings to the modest hill gods living benevolently under the shade of tall trees.

Honestly I didn’t have any first hand memories of the place but somehow I had extrapolated some visual aids using my imagination to create a memory of a happy place where the hills were dotted with tall walnut trees which looked admiringly at the lofty Himalayas. In the morning the Himalaya’s glistened with the golden rays of sun and then hid blushingly in the morning mists. The step farms, sometimes lush green, other time sprawled with dried pine needles and then again covered in a blanket of pure white snow always looked inviting. 

All hills are beautiful but some are more beautiful than the others.
All hills fill me with awe and peace, but some just stand apart.
This was the picture of my perfect happy place-one which I had mostly conjured in my own head

As we drove along the route to my 'Pahad', I tried to imagine the times when my ancestors made the biannual pilgrimage- once leaving the hills with all belongings and cattle during the winter months to the warmer plains and then again during the summer months back to the hills. Strangely it was only when the concrete road was finally laid connecting the plains to the hills that the pilgrimage came to an end and we decided to make the plains our new home, telling ourselves that we could make the trek back to the hills ‘anytime’ we wanted..
This is the most telling tale of our time, as improvement in infrastructure shortens the physical distances between the world and our homes, we become more outward seeking. We assure ourselves that we can always walk the distance back home when the time comes- when I have earned enough, when I have explored enough, when I have quenched my thirst…

'Home' then becomes the place where I aspire to be when I am at peace with myself and have conquered all the trappings of my mind.

Perhaps there is a certain hypocrisy in my choice to live in Hong Kong, one of the most developed places in the world and be nostalgic about my little home in the hills, but I would like to offer a different point of view.

'Home' is not just a place and point in time that we must cling onto, it is our drive to seek and re-create spaces that share the same core essence but build with new experiences. The impetus to add new milestones to the trove of older grey ones.
Every week when I force my husband to trudge along the hiking trails here in HK, I am seeking my inner happy place. When the Mister surprises you by pointing out the dried pine needles on the ground before you notice (he was the only one walking gingerly down the hilly slopes covered with the dewy pine needles back home because 'his shoes were slippery'), you reconnect with your happy place.
The happy places inside us are the ones we seek, we revisit, we share and keep them alive even when we move afar..

Travel journal-Boracay

We were drawn by the azure waters, soft white sand beaches, warm tropical sun but we came back richer in ways we didn’t expect. Also I maintain that the Pahari came across stronger than the Rajasthani when it came to braving the tropical sun while indulging in all the glory of the warm waters.

We settled on Philippines after jumping around countries for a while, then again we had two contenders- Boracay or Palawan.I was not particularly enthused about visiting Boracay, it seemed like a ‘once’ beautiful place marred by excessive tourism. Palawan seemed more like my calling, promising pristine untouched beauty and chance of a quite communion with nature.

However for a short getaway trip during the Monsoon season, Boracay- the poster child of Philippine tourism seemed like a safer bet than getting stuck in remote Palawan with torrential rains and sketchy infrastructure if weather gods played truant. Thus we embarked on our to trip to Boracay in search of the island soul still throbbing and surviving despite the overbearing limelight thrust upon it. I quietly promised myself that I will better plan the Palawan trip during the saner weather.

Quick note on the planning for someone who stumbles on this post while looking for Boracay travel tips. We took the HongKong to Kalibo direct flight (2.5 hrs) with Cebu Pacific, flew out Wednesday evening and were back Monday evening. This low cost round-trip flight is available only on specific days a week, so we tailored our itinerary around the same. This effectively gave us 5 days in hand to explore Boracay and we did some smart planning. We stayed in Kalibo the first night (reached 10:30pm) and planned for a trip to nearby Bakhawan Eco-Park( 220 hectare mangrove forest) early next morning. In the afternoon we headed to Boracay(90 min drive from Kalibo to Caticlan jetty port, 15 minutes boat ride to Boracay). Transportation option is plentiful between Kalibo to Caticlan jetty port(options are mostly tradeoff between money/time/service).We stayed 2 nights at our comfortable resort on White beach Station1 and the next two nights we moved to the opposite side of White Beach-Bulabog beach and rented a native house on a hill-top.(light wood,bamboo and a thatched roof making it airy)

We did all the recommended tourist activities in Boracay: swimming in the sea, stand up paddle boarding in the relatively calm waters, parasailing, island hopping in a motorised Bangka with snorkelling at Crocodile island and visit to Crystal cove island, collecting sea shell at Puka beach and Sunset Paraw sailing. All of the above were good fun, but I guess it is the unexpected small things that sneak in a well researched itinerary that adds true charm to a travelling experience. I will document some of them here while they are fresh in my mind.

The proprietor of Kalibo guesthouse gave us a tour of his property. I thought that the mounted orchids growing on logs of wood hanging on the wall were pretty cool, their aerial roots too upscale for the lowly earth! Wikipedia tells me that of 1100 species of orchids 900 are endemic to Philippines.
He also offered us some tropical fruits growing in his garden for our tasting; my educated taste buds discerned them as distant tropical cousins of their Indian brethren (Lychee & Keenu). The hospitality and our education of the tropical flora and fauna (with crustaceans thrown in the mix) continued with our next visit to the Mangrove forest eco-park.

All trees are tall, but some trees are taller than others (Redwood trees). All trees have roots, some trees are ‘rootier’(Banyan trees). All trees are cool(shady), but some trees are cooler than others (Oak trees), I could go on but the question is what makes the Mangrove tree special?
“Mangroves live life on the edge. With one foot on land and one in the sea, these botanical amphibians occupy a zone of desiccating heat, choking mud, and salt levels that would kill an ordinary plant within hours. Yet the forests mangroves form are among the most productive and biologically complex ecosystems on Earth”-National Geographic

Walking through the Mangrove forest was a first time experience for me, although a visit to the Sunderbans in Bengal always tempted me, the trip never materialized in my 2 year stay in Kolkata. In Kalibo, a mudflat was converted into a mangrove forest in 1990 as part of land reclamation effort. The Mangrove Reforestation Project provided twin benefits to the local community- a sustainable solution against flooding, and a means of income-crabs and shell fish farming. The eco-trail attracts tourists bringing in generous pesos (park entrance fee) for the park upkeep. Impressive!
The eco-trail is a 1.1 km bamboo pathway through the heart of the Mangrove forest, I was happy to stand on the curvature of the bamboo bridge overlooking the river underneath, flanked by the lush green mangrove forests while listening to the junk, junk, junk sound of the confused nightjars. Every gentle flutter or ruffle got magnified in the quite of the jungle; the most fun was to watch the antics of the flying fish- their zig-zag hop-skip-fly routine! The crabs were the perfect contrast-awkwardly navigating around with their hind legs, while their crab hands didn’t seem to help out much!

I realize that I have already filled up a lot of space even before we reached Boracay. May be I should stop tip-toeing around the sandy beach and jump into the clear azure waters already. As I took in the first view of the beach, I had to admit that I had never seen a pristine beach like this before. The soft white powdery sand had curvy wind scales, the waters so transparent you could see the white fishes running around. This sprawling beach looked like a royalty which made all the other beaches of my existence fade in comparison.
We had picked a resort(Sea Wind Resort) in Station 1, the less congested part of the beach. Also I liked that the resort encroached less on the beach, the front was spacious with the widest beach front. The property had expanded on the opposite side of the beach across the road with spacious garden view villas. I didn’t mind that we had to walk 5 minutes to cross the road and walk to the beachfront. I enjoyed the luxury of just walking into the beach from the resort, enjoy a swim in the sea and then take a quick dip in the swimming pool before lounging in the pool deck with my kindle. It was ethereal to look at the sprawling sea and sandy beaches each time you glanced up. Walking along the beachfront was also a charming sight, especially watching the silhouettes of the sailing boats against the backdrop of evening sky.

Alas despite all the prettiness I could not shake off a nagging feeling especially as we walked past Station 2. Nature had bestowed this place with pristine royal beauty but man had callously intruded her backyard with all the consumerist junk-big food chains, resorts on the sandy beach, loud throbbing music, massage and henna parlors and continuous barrage of touts selling their wares. I could see the dangerous game, how all these frills were trying to woo the multitude of tourists while slowly alienating the purists.

Thankfully one can venture out to the nearby islands to get a taste of pure untouched island beauty. It was reassuring to watch the lush green canopy of tall trees guarding the boundary of the Puka beach and as the last of the sun rays kissed the sandy beaches, the beach was left to its peaceful pondering.
While snorkeling at Crocodile Island, I glanced into the world of corals reefs and beautiful fishes for the first time. From the boat when I looked searchingly at the waters, I was fooled by the dark shadows, an appearance of shallow waters with submerged rocks. Nothing had prepared me for the sight that was lurking just under the surface for a depth of 6 meters-a blast of color and prettiness that my eyes had never experienced. Our guide told us that fishing is strictly regulated in this area; he also gave us some bread to feed the fishes- this attracted a swarm of fishes very close for viewing.
As part of the island hopping we explored the coves in the private property of Crystal Cove Island. The property had some quirky wooden seating installations (not sure if it was thematic), perhaps for people to relax and soak in the gorgeous views, but mostly they were serving as photo booths for the selfie obsessed. I had seen coves before in San Diego but had not ventured into its belly, this time we descended inside the cold cove and into the clear water washing up persistently. This was also the adobe of some secretive marine creatures; curled up sea urchins and crabs.

Our quirky native residence up the hill wasn’t exactly to the Mister's taste so I tried to bribe him

with Mangosteen. Side story- this tropical fruit had come up in a discussion with a Singaporean about Durian few days prior to our Philippine trip. I know it is a risky move taking recommendations from someone who likes Durian but knowing the Mister's love for trying out weird fruits, I picked up a bunch on our way back to the studio up the hill. Desperate time desperate measures! Thankfully this experimentation was better than the ones where I am on the receiving end..
On the first day of out stay we got introduced to another island regular-the gecko. It was so big and colorful that I first thought it was a decorative item but when it moved I nearly jumped out of my skin. Our host told us about these harmless island creatures and how they got their name, when night came we had no doubts about the name...ge-cko, ge-cko, ge-cko

Since we were on the Eastern side of the island, I woke up early both days to watch the glorious sunrise. We chatted up with our Swiss host as I dug into the sumptuous breakfast (while someone just sipped orange juice). Some people have a lot of interesting stories to tell about their life, their journeys; he was one of them. Talking to him gave us a peek into the old Boracay (a tropical beauty that enamored a man from the Middle East, a warm haven of sun, wind and waters that made a European seek refuge from the brutal cold). The conversation meandered to politics, business, dietary choices…practically everything under the Boracay sky!

The last day of our stay gave us a different flavor of wind and waves. A typhoon warning was issued for later in the week and we could sense the change in weather. It was mildly windy as we climbed into the sail boat, Paraw for a sunset cruise. Generally it is a serene gentle ride to enjoy the beauty of the sunset, but for us the island had planned a roaring send-off. As the sails caught the whiff of the wind the Paraw gained speed quickly, it cut through the waves sending splashes of water right across our faces. The thrust of the water pushed us backwards, kicked our behinds, and fought our dangling legs; I could barely open my eyes to watch the romantic sunset. It was a wild ride with loud cries and wet amused glances shared between people on board the sail boat..

Later as the evening progressed we witnessed a low tide(full moon night) and watched the receding waters reveal wide stretch of powdery white sand. The view was different in Bulabog beach where the receding waves uncovered swathes of sea-weed. I can just imagine the riches of the Puka beach where the low tide would have revealed all the colorful shells for anyone's taking. Perhaps this is the truth about travelling, you go looking for the beautiful sunrises and sunset, you bring back with you a little Moon-magic.

To The Lighhouse

One should not sleep walk through the flat earth for too long, it is important to hike your way up a hill to gain some perspective in life. When I use a sell strategy like the above on people, it usually goes like “perspective huh?” So I improvise and propose drinks at some high rise roof top bars, it usually is an easy sell. I know the two are not exactly comparable except if you argue for the word ‘high’ literally.

I slowly sip my iced coffee sitting at the footsteps of the hill overlooking the city as the sun slowly goes down and the city lights begin to twinkle in distance.
I slowly sip my Mojito sitting on my high rise bar stool overlooking the city as the sun slowly goes down and the city lights begin to twinkle in distance.
Just painted the picture so that the idea doesn’t seem completely outlandish..

However option A is still gold, once you are physically removed from your everyday surrounding, it creates a space where you can stand and look back at your life or try to gaze ahead and see where you are headed. I believe that Nature has that power over us; it can give us that outward/inward clairvoyance, a moment of peace to reflect without distractions.

In one of these moments of honest reflection as I gazed beyond the city at the large stretch of the South China Sea, the warm memories of the Pacific coast came back to me. I tried to look for the lighthouse that always showed me the way, only to realize that the blurred lines were fading away softly. I changed the course of my life and was gone too far in the opposite direction. I quietly thanked the lighthouse at the distance hoping that the waves will carry my message.

Looking away from the waters, I scanned the sky for the setting sun only to find that it disappeared slyly behind the distant hill when I wasn’t looking. I have experienced this happen to me before; the tricky sun disappears just when you are not looking, perhaps just to show that life goes on, even when we take our eyes off for a while..

Travel Charms..

Water overflows from a bucket and slowly begins to snake down the hill, slowly feeling its way down the sloping tangent guided by gravity. The little stream quietly glides by a small boy, the kid is not amused at being ‘overtaken’; he glances sideways at his competition and quickens his pace. I watch the kid as he begins to run down the hill, looking over his shoulders to make sure that the water stream doesn’t catch up with him..
This image has persisted in my mind for over a month now, may be because the scene was innocently human. May be because each one of us is kind of chasing random streams of water overflowing from different buckets lest we get left behind. May be because sometimes it is good to see that the life we live can have parallel in a kid’s universe. Life sure has a charming sense of humor; may be I should just leave this thought at this point

In a recent trip to the gambling city of Macau, knowing that riches and luck elude me, I choose to seek the charming side of history and culture. Not sure why the weather gods thought that showering us with buckets of rain would add to the charm of exploring the city but undaunted we started on the ‘list’..

We managed to cover the following on the list: Senado square, ruins of St Paul’s Cathedral and the Taipa village, toured the whole bunch of glitzy casinos and watched the much famed 'The house of Dancing water' show at the City of Dreams casino. We missed out on the museum tours, The Guia Fortress but I guess there is always a next time and with the time we had on hand we did a fair job of exploring the city.

The Senado square, the ruins and the Taipa village were all a slice of the Portuguese history in Chinese Macau, the churches standing tall amidst the cozy incensed temples.

The wavy black and white mosiac floor is the give away for tourists in the city trying to find the Square without any Google help. Once you start seeing the cobbled street you know you are close to The Senado square. The ruins of St Paul's Cathedral are also in the same stretch so it is easy to cover the two together. 

The colorful windows, potted plants, dainty cast iron lamp posts, it was a deja vu as i remembered the French Quarters in New Orleans. The quaint European feel that never fails to evoke the old world charm where perhaps aesthetic and beauty was a purpose in itself. 

The next day we covered the Taipa village. This small market area is a quintessential tapestry of East meets West, the narrow alleys lined with brightly colored buildings(the Portuguese flavor) in the midst of intricately designed roofs of Chinese buildings. There are small eateries, cozy restaurants all along the street with Portuguese, Spanish,  Macanese and Thai fare. Ice-creams- the Gelato variety, the pure milk Ice-cream from Hokkaido, Japan and the obnoxious Durian ice cream(i am entitled to an opinion). Taipa market is a melting pot of different cuisines, dig in and enjoy the food(hopefully you are a non-vegeterian)!

We watched the Dancing water show just before leaving Macau, the show completely mesmerises the senses, the acrobatics is awe inspiring, the design of the stage with all the water histrionics is impressive, the choreography and music set the right mood. Yet it is just that, a sensory pleasure, that holds you spellbound but doesn't grow into you. Nonetheless the show sells and it is not difficult to see why, its perfectly tailor made for the Asian Casino audience, drawing elements from both East and West and packaging it with a generous dose of Chinese motifs. I did enjoy the 90minutes performance and the Chinese lady sitting behind me was hysterical with laughter so i guess that counts for something..

I have kind of little to talk about the Casinos, they don't really work their Charm on me..(loser talk). But I do accept that each is grandiose in its own right- you heard me right, 'fake Venetian sky'!

That's it for now until I find something charming to chime about :)