Shamanic of Shambolic? Tales from a pilgrimage...

A roller coaster of the most epic proportion. That's how I'd reservedly describe the events of this past week. Guatemala is not a place that I have ever really been drawn to, but it is the home of the ancient Mayan civilization – and it's no real surprise to me that life has lead me here as the auspicious year of 2012 draws to an end. I came to Guatemala specifically to take part in a sacred shamanic pilgrimage, to mark the end of an important phase in the Mayan calendar and usher in what the ancient civilizations (and I) believe to be the dawning of a new era for humankind. The Mayans were master astrologers. Based on astrological movements, their observations provided explanations for creation, religious ritual, philosophy of life and living, and everyday practice in real life. Their philosophy blends together into a beautiful holistic world view and societal reality. The Maya had around 17 different calendars, tracking as far back as 10 million years, the accuracy of all of them far superior to the Gregorian calendar. The Mayan calendars are extremely complex, explaining in great detail the cycles in which celestial bodies move, and how these cycles effect the phases of evolution on our planet. We all know the Earth orbits the Sun, and so the Sun also orbits our galaxy. At sunrise on December 21, 2012 the winter solstice Sun rose to conjunct with the centre of the galaxy. Put very simply, the date marked the end of several astronomical cycles – one – the Earth's precessional orbit of the Sun - takes 25,770 years. It's not every day you're alive for such a galactic alignment – and I believe, as the Mayans did, that what takes place in our cosmos has a direct impact on our planet. The Mayans used these cosmic movements to predict different eras in terms of the evolutionary progress of our planet – and we have just completed the end of one of those cycles, launching us into a new phase of development. A pretty momentous occasion to commemorate if you ask me!

Lucy and I were under the impression that this would be a plant medicine pilgrimage, but as it transpired, the focus was more about doing ancient Mayan ceremonies in each of the significant ancient Mayan sites here in Guatemala. I must admit that when we initially found this news out, Lucy and I were a little disappointed, but we believe that it is no mistake were are here, so expectations have been left at the door, and we commenced this journey with open hearts and minds.

Being here, present amongst several elders – some from ancient Mayan heritage, some from ancient native American Indian heritage - and some from ancient Incan heritage – was a truly humbling honour. It is hard to find words that even come close to accurately articulating the amount of gratitude I felt for being privileged enough to be here. When I greeted Don Manuel – the Cosmic Catalyst who takes the form of a little man wearing a white suit – or in more earthly language, the shaman who is more or less the instigator for Lucy, Isis and I being on this pilgrimage, he gave me a hug and said “welcome home.” His words bemused me at first, “I'm only in Guatemala to do the pilgrimage” I instantly thought, but, during the welcome ceremony, as one of the Mayan elders was speaking, I knew exactly what he meant. His words struck something deep within me and I welled up. Tears started rolling from my eyes and although I didn't know precisely why I needed to be here, I knew that I had to be here.

The following morning we took part in the first Mayan ceremony, which was absolutely beautiful. As we approached the site where the ceremony was to take place I found myself crying again. I began to feel from a place deep, deep inside of me that this week would bring about some truly profound healing. A Mayan elder led the ceremony – who is a direct descendant of ancient Mayan nobility. The sacred ceremonial fire was built upon the large, round ceremonial stone and as each component of the fire was laid out, prayers were offered to the guardians of the four points of the compass and to the elements, of which we are all composed. The elders then spoke and we all offered prayers – again I started to cry. Something inside was deeply resonating. The entire ceremony was about uniting and healing the hurts of the world. The prayers were offered to the creator – or God – but not the God that Christianity teaches us to believe in. Instead, the Mayans pray to the infinite, boundless, intelligent energy that creates everything in existence. Of course, in reality, the God behind every religion is one and the same thing, it is just presented in different ways, according to the social paradigms of each country. But the Mayans have a much more direct experience of God – their belief of God is what I find resonates with me, and after spending 2 days on this pilgrimage, I do indeed feel as though I have “come home”.

Being on a pilgrimage is not all fluff, sparkles and happy-happy, joy-joy. It brings up a lot of things for everyone involved – and there are 200 people on this particular pilgrimage. Also, things tend to “go wrong” – a lot. Actually, that's an enormous understatement. The organisation of this pilgrimage has been utterly shambolic at best. Waiting for 4 hours in a hotel lobby whilst they try to check us all in, after we've been travelling on a bus all day, was a common theme. One night, after asking if it would be possible for us to get our room as quickly as possible so Lucy could put Isis to bed, it transpired that our names were not even on the room allocation list. The hotel lobby was totally crowded with pilgrims, all of them completely exhausted from a super early start and a long, long day of travelling. Don Manuel handed us the key to his room and told us to take it. It was 10pm and way beyond poor little Isis's bed time. She was being an absolute angel, but it was plain to see that she needed a bed. I could see that Lucy was beside herself. She and I had a mini hissy-fit over the whole debacle, but soon found ourselves giggling our socks off about the sheer ridiculousness of the whole situation, trying not to let the inconvenience get to us. We also tended to not be told about things in advance, so we often found ourselves onboard buses, totally unprepared for the events of the day ahead. Waking up at 4:30am to get to a ceremony and having to last until 1pm before we got food has also featured. I found myself constantly asking questions, attempting in vain to ascertain even an inkling of what was going on, only to be met with the answer “I don't know” over and over again.

For instance, on one night we were to take part in a sweat lodge. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it is best described as a spiritual initiation within the context of heat, using the element of fire to release toxicity within the body. For some reason, news of the sweat lodge did not reach Lucy, Rick and I until we were already onboard the bus, heading to out of the city to the first ceremony of the day. We arrived at the mountainous location of the sweat lodge just after sun set and there was a definite chill in the air. All I had to wrap around myself for the sweat lodge was my pashmina and a small cotton towel I had been carrying around with us for emergency baby Isis situations. I wrapped my pashmina around my waist to make a skirt, and fashioned a make-shift top for myself out of the towel. The temperature was dropping fast and those of us who were not in the first group for the sweat lodge sat around the fire, offering prayer (and trying keep warm!) It was a beautiful experience, but as the first group approached the end of their session I began to shiver with cold. I tried not to allow preoccupation with my rapidly declining body temperature get in the way of this beautiful experience. But wait, what's this? Just as my turn came around to get inside the sweat lodge and finally get warm, Don Manuel announced “my friends, I'm very sorry but we have to leave – the buses are illegally parked in the road and are not allowed to stay there any longer.” By now I was uncontrollably shivering. Lucy and I got dressed as quickly as we could, but we had left our clothes outside and they were now wet with the night time dew. Back to the bus we went, cold, damp and sweat lodge-less.

Despite Rick having the intention of coming over to Guatemala with us to make things work with his family and try to be a support to Lucy, it has transpired that he simply doesn't have the capacity to step up to the responsibilities of being a full-time father right now. Having him around has put a tremendous amount of emotional strain on Lucy - and that ultimately took its toll on her health. She came down with a fever and feelings of nausea on the first day of the pilgrimage. After seeing how distressed she was, Don Manuel sat down with her and gave her a healing - and one of the pilgrims who is an acupuncturist also gave her a treatment. Within 15 minutes the fever and nausea had gone. The next day she felt a lot better, but had diarrhoea, so asked Rick to take Isis for the day – and travel on a separate bus from her so she could rest during the 4-hour bus journey. To cut a long story short, he flatly refused, telling Lucy “I'm not her mother” and walking off. Despite understanding the pain cycles he's going through that are preventing him from being able to embrace being a father to his angelic little girl, I felt waves of absolute fury rising up inside me. It almost felt as though I was feeling the rage of all women who had been abandoned by the fathers of their children, collectively, all at the same time. Lucy looked distraught – we both decided to let the organisers know what was going on, and immediately they stepped up and offered help. When we next encountered Rick, Lucy and I exploded on him – we'd both had more than our fill of his de-stabilizing energy. Kyra, one of the organisers, who was aware of Rick's antics, came to try to talk to him. He exploded at Lucy in front of her – and then decided to leave the pilgrimage.

Lucy was obviously traumatised, but was holding it together for Isis as best she could. She had realised back at Lake Atitlan that she had to let him go – and has now drawn a line under their relationship. Of course she will allow him to have access to Isis, but she does not want any further emotional involvement with him. When we are not in the throws of anger, we do both feel a tremendous amount of compassion for him – yes, his actions have sent Lucy to hell and back, but we know they come from a place of great pain. I'm telling you this story with Lucy's express permission – in fact, she actually asked me to write about it - “it's all part of the journey” she said, with a smile on her face. And indeed it is. It's strange how things work out – literally as soon as he left, the beautiful people on this pilgrimage sprang into action, helping out with Isis. They played with her on the bus and took such pleasure in entertaining her. It felt as though a cloud had been lifted – this new day had brought with it new, lighter energy. Lucy and I really began bonding with the other people on the pilgrimage – there really are some true angels in our midst. A chat with Don Manuel over lunch saw him telling me “Rick left the pilgrimage because the vibration was too high for him”. Another of the elders said “ooh, he had such angry energy around him – he needs to let that ego go”. Amazing how insightful these people are – how clearly they see things. But...a day later Rick decided to make a reappearance. Lucy handled it really well – allowing Isis to run freely between them, but keeping conversation only to essential matters concerning Isis. I can't say I was happy to see him again, but he is Isis's father – and I have to respect that.

We took part in many ceremonies, some of them 5 hours long. The grounds of one particular one were beautiful and leafy, where tropical trees provided cool shade from the hot sun. Isis ran around freely, making new friends, and playing without a care in the world. Lucy and I sat together, absorbing the magical energy of the ceremony, feeling deeply connected. I laid back in the grass and looked up at the smoke from the fire. The rays of the sun shining through the foliage of the trees cut beautiful light rays through it, and as the smoke rose and swirled, it played with the rays, forming dancing patterns of sunshine. Once again I felt so deeply grateful to be here, having this magical experience. I have always been drawn to paganism, to white magic and mysticism – and I'm finding within these Mayan ceremonies a great sense of familiarity. I have no doubt that in a past life I danced around an ancient Mayan ceremonial fire, banging my drum and pounding my bare feet on Mother Earth beneath me. These ceremonies are all about unity, healing and love. They are delivered with such heart-felt passion that they stir the very soul.

As with my time spent in Amma's ashram, as well as experiencing the joys of growth, I am also enduring a few little niggles with some of the people on this pilgrimage. Reflecting back on my own little spiritual journey, I have noticed a recurring theme: in some individuals, myself included in the past, their perception of spiritual practices actually gets in the way of the very messages their spiritual practices are trying to teach them. Their preoccupation with the bells and whistles, the ins and outs of a ceremony, or their desire to hear words spoken by someone they deem to be a spiritual teacher actually makes them behave in ways that are completely contradictory to the message of the spiritual practice they are trying to follow. There has definitely been displays of some slightly spiritually neurotic behaviour on this pilgrimage. As part of the ceremony we are to offer 13 candles into the fire, to commemorate the celebration of the end of the auspicious 13^th cycle of the Mayan calendar. Lucy put her candles near a tree for safe-keeping – and someone decided to take them and make them theirs. Of course Lucy and I just saw it as ridiculous and laughed it off. Another person got her knickers in a twist when I stood in front of her whilst a drawing of the Mayan calendar was being explained to us. Today, a lady asked Lucy to move away from the ceremony when Isis was crying because she couldn't hear the spiritual messages. Memories of my time at Amma's ashram in India this time last year came to mind – Lucy has also been there and is familiar with the nutty dynamic of that ashram – and we both shared a giggle or two at the comedic dichotomous behaviour of those who are on a “spiritual path”, but sometimes can't see past the end of their own noses. It's a bemusing phenomena of human existence...that sometimes, what you think you need to do in life actually gets in the way of what needs to be done.

Over the course of the week we have consistently had to deal with the daily shambles that have been component parts of this pilgrimage. On the whole, Lucy and I (and baby Isis for that matter) took the annoyances on the chin, but on our penultimate night...I lost it. We'd spent the night travelling to the ancient ruins of Tikal and I probably averaged about 10 minutes of sleep on the entire journey. The cumulative late nights, early starts and lack of food had mounted, and I was beginning to reach the end of my tolerance tether. It was 3am when we arrived at Tikal, and we trekked for around an hour to get to the site at which we were holding the ceremonies to see in the dawn of the solstice. Yes, the stars were shining brightly, and yes, the looming shadows of the ancient Mayan pyramids looked epic in the moonlight, but fatigue plagued us as we walked through the jungle.

When we arrived at the ancient temple, Lucy was so exhausted from carrying baby Isis that she found a nearby tree and just passed out with her. I sat around the ceremonial fire along with the other pilgrims, with every intention of seeing it through, but I was so exhausted I kept falling asleep. Yes, it was December 21^st, 2012, but...by now, I couldn't help but feel I'd had my fill of ceremonies - and eventually I just surrendered and passed out under a tree. Lucy and I both woke up to the dawn, damp, cold and if I'm perfectly honest, pretty darn miserable. We wondered around the ancient ruins of Tikal, trying to be as enthusiastic as we could – it was beautiful and epic, but we were simply exhausted and quite frankly, had had enough of the shambolic pilgrimage – and as much as I hate to say it, we were feeling a bit ceremonied-out. We were feeling ripped off, disappointed, and grumpy, but were still managing to laugh at all the shambles we'd had to put up with over the past week. We thought of jumping ship and heading straight up into Mexico as we were in northern Guatemala, but Lucy had left laundry at the hotel we were to be returning to in Guatemala City, so we had no choice but to head back down south with the pilgrimage. Another hour-long wait on the bus before it went anywhere, then a “40-minute” bus ride “straight to the hotel” that turned into a 2-hour ride to seemingly the middle of nowhere saw my patience wearing dangerously thin. By now, everybody had had enough of the horrendous lack of organisation. People disembarked the buses to find out what was going on: the organisers were trying to sort out hotel rooms. After about 30 minutes of tedious faffing, I ascertained that Lucy, Isis and I were once again not on any list. Isis was crying, Lucy was, for want of a better term, feeling raped and pillaged and I had had enough. The organisers felt the wrath of my anger and I demanded that we be taken to our hotel room immediately so Lucy could put poor exhausted baby Isis to bed. We were transferred to another bus and within half an hour we were checked in to our hotel. Our room wasn't big enough to swing a cat in, let alone keep a toddler in, so after dinner, Lucy and I were transferred to another hotel. Yet more faff. The following morning I woke up so exhausted my entire body was shaking. Everyone was super helpful as we checked out of the hotel – they knew that my explosion hadn't come from a place of selfishness – it had come from sheer frustration that despite us trying our hardest to make the best of a bad situation, the seeming lack of consideration or concern for a mother and her baby had pushed me over the edge. Lucy and I joked that I had taken on the role of dad and was defending her little family.

Whilst being in the presence of so many wise and aware elders is of course an amazing experience, I'm finding that little Isis is proving to be our most powerful little shaman. She is our Cosmic Catalyst in baby form, showing us the way, just by purely being. Such perfect embodiment of the beauty of being fully in the present moment, fully in yourself. Completely knowing yourself. I never really fully appreciated the powerful intelligence of babies and children until now. Learning to give totally selflessly, from a place of love and joy, just for the pure pleasure of giving, has been a very beautiful lesson Isis has taught me so rapidly, and so effortlessly – now that I'm finally in a place within myself that allows me to be receptive to it. Allowing children and babies to just express themselves, through their own innate intelligence is such an important gift that we in the West have tried so hard to eradicate. The reason why is debatable, but to me is ultimately irrelevant. They inherently know their own way, their own path, and it is up to us as adults to simply support that – not to implant into them what we deem to be the path they should be walking. Allow them to walk their own path – they know which way they should be going – us adults just get in their way and give them the wrong directions. I really am developing a very deep love for darling little Isis, being with her, letting her guide Lucy and I through her beautiful innocence.

So yes, there were many, so many things on this pilgrimage that really pushed our patience to (and often beyond) its boundaries. We were so dissatisfied that we were ready to send a very snotty email to the organisers demanding a refund...but this morning on the bus ride back to Guatemala City, Lucy and I had a total epiphany. We began to fully comprehend, from the deepest parts of ourselves, not only the lessons of the past week, but the lessons that our lives had been teaching us. We as human beings are tremendously powerful alchemists. We have the power to transmute anything, we have just forgotten how to use that wisdom. When you are fully present, aware of the mind, hearing it, but not listening to it, you can start tapping in to that innate wisdom and begin understanding how to use the frustrations that you experience in life as fuel to manifest the reality you want. Of course life is chaotic – creation is chaos made manifest. It was the big bang that created this universe – a giant, chaotic explosion. Creation hates voids – you only have to open your eyes to the natural world to see that. Creative energy makes sure that every nook and cranny is filled. But what do we as humans tend to do? We hang on, literally clenching on for dear life, rigid, afraid to let go and acting totally contrary to the way life behaves. But if we learn to let go, to flow, to surrender, to listen to your instincts, beautiful things start to happen. If you are able to transcend expectation, and accept the present moment as it is, you begin to develop an ability to see what the present moment is trying to teach you. Give without expecting anything in return, knowing that if that act of giving comes from a place of selflessness, joy and love, without any expectation, the abundant flow of life with flow into that space of giving. Live life with a childlike quality – if you have a dream, pursue it, as that's what you're meant to be doing with your life. If you have many dreams, pursue them all – because life is infinitely abundant, and will support an ethos of abundant creation within individuals. Apologies were made to the poor people I offloaded to yesterday evening – and in their wisdom they just knew it was all part of the process I was going through and gave me warm hugs, happy that I understood the lessons I had to learn. Amazing. Not only did the organisers manage to maintain such a state of utter chaos that all my buttons were successfully pushed, but they also had big enough hearts to accept the reaction of those firey buttons. Those Mayans knew what they were doing...the temples that we were at were built specifically for December 21^st 2012...and boy did they do the job they were meant to!

Last night we saw in Christmas at the house of one of the Mayan elders. We ate together, then held a ceremony at midnight. My love for the ceremonies seems to have made a return. I've never seen in Christmas like this - it was truly magical. Lucy & I have decided to continue travelling on with Don Manuel and around 20 of his students from New York and Poland. Tomorrow we're heading back to Lake Atitlan to embark on the next step of this crazy adventure. Looks like my return to the Lake is happening a lot sooner than I had anticipated...but Lucy & I have decided to let go of planning this journey, allowing the magic to unfold of its own accord. Right now it feels like the right decision to continue travelling with Don Manuel. We'll see where the next few days takes us...

Preparing for one of the Mayan ceremonies

The Cosmic Catalyst himself...Don Manuel

The colourful head dress of the Maya

The sleepy ceremony to see in the dawn of 21st December 2012

One of the epic ancient Mayan pyramids at Tikal

Seeing in Christmas...Mayan stylie

Gorgeous Guatemala - Lake Atitlan

And so the first chapter of my Latin American adventure begins. I'm taking this trip with my dear friend Lucy - a soul mate for sure - and her heavenly baby daughter Isis. I was of course fully aware of how travelling with a toddler would add a new & different dimension to my travel experience this time round, plus, Lucy's partner & the father of Isis, Rick, decided to travel from Australia to join us & make things work with his family. This, not only being the first time I have met Rick, but also the first time that he, Lucy & Isis have been together after a few months of living in opposite parts of the world, has meant that the group dynamic has needed a little time to settle. I won't lie...there has been a spot of trouble in paradise & I have found myself caught in the middle of some difficult situations, but what has been happening has been making Lucy & I closer & our friendship has truly blossomed in the face of adversity. As for Lucy & Rick, it's long & complicated - but I think after trying time & again to make things work, they have now reached a place where they are recognizing they need to let each other go. It's sad to see as on many levels Rick does want to be a father to Isis, but right now it seems he just can't make it happen. 

I could write an entire entry on the ups & downs of the group dynamic over the past 10 days, but I'm not going to...instead I'm going to deliver to you the juicy details of the first leg of my South American adventure. This time, my journey has taken us to Guatemala, first stop - Guatemala City. Despite the extremely friendly demeanour of the people we encountered on our way to the hotel, I can't deny that we didn't exactly feel terribly safe in a city whose shops sit behind metal bars, and within the shops stood armed guards. The largest city in Central America, it's extremely busy & polluted city - & we knew our stay there would literally just be a pit-stop to rest & get us to where we wanted to be...Lake Atitlan.

To save time & effort, Rick treated us all to a taxi ride to the lake - so I'm yet to experience my first Guatemalan bus ride. Don't worry - they'll happen soon enough! The driver, a lovely guy called Melis, loved the fact that I was desperate to learn Spanish (literally as soon as I stepped out of the airport I turned to Lucy & said "I have to learn Spanish while we're out here!") and took it upon himself to tutor me for the entire duration of our four hour ride, ensuring that I knew how to say all of the essential things. By the end of the journey I had 2 pages of notes and knew how to tell someone I needed to make a call (something Melis deemed extremely important). 

It felt good to leave the busy smoggy city behind us and we began climbing up into the highlands of Guatemala.  Lush, green mountains rose up ahead of us & the air became fresh. It was 7th December and in Guatemala this is the day of La Quema del Diablo...or The Burning of The Devil. On the side of the road people were selling little paper mache devils - and in the mountain towns there was much excitement & festivities. People were dancing in the streets & stages were set-up, upon which bands were playing. It reminded me of the feasts that take place in the little village my parents are from back in Italy.

We arrived at Lake Atitlan just as the sun was setting. The air was fresh & smelled of warm summer evenings & the lake looked utterly beautiful. We had chosen to stay in the little spiritual village of San Marcos which was a boat ride away, across the lake. We bid farewell to lovely Melis & boarded the wobbly little boat that very soon filled up with locals. I smiled. I always consider it a good sign when locals out-number the tourists. After about an hour we arrived at San Marcos. It was now dark & we had absolutely no idea where we were heading, but that didn't matter as wait...here on the lake shores of San Marcos there are no roads...instead little cobbled pathways gently guide you around the very small village, unobtrusively leading you to the little collection of guest houses, healing centres & restaurants. We began meandering our way around & encountered a lovely lady from Vermont, Carol, and her beautiful daughter, Zoe - who took it upon themselves to usher us around San Marcos until we had found an adequate place to stay, which, funnily enough,  ended up being the very same guest house they were staying at.

The next day I began to absorb where I was. The lake really is utterly breathtaking. Surrounded by three dormant volcanoes, the crater that forms the basin of the lake was created during an enormous eruption 84,000 years ago. It is renowned as one of the most beautiful lakes in the world - Aldous Huxley wrote of it: "Lake Como, it seems to me, touches on the limit of permissibly picturesque, but Atitlán is Como with additional embellishments of several immense volcanoes. It really is too much of a good thing." Steeped in Myan history, there certainly seems to be something magical about this place - it is one of the most beautiful lakes I've been to, and San Marcos itself has become renowned for its spiritual energy. 

At first impression I thought I could live here. The people here are super lovely and there's certainly no shortage of holistic courses to keep me occupied...but...after spending a week here...I must admit I am beginning to feel a bit stifled. For sure, I'm all about spirituality & progression, but to me, the delivery is as important as the content - and I think that's the trouble with some of the spiritual souls of San Marcos...they take it a little bit too seriously. I draw the line when I'm not allowed to take a bottle of water into a yoga class because "no clutter is allowed into the sacred space". The maverick in me instantly reacts and the allure of the seemingly perfect spiritual sanctuary has all of a sudden become less attractive. Being here does sometimes feel like I'm in an episode of Lost. If you've never watched Lost, think Twilight Zone and you're close enough. 

Of course, I am being harsh - it is heavenly being here, and I have met some amazingly inspiring people. I've had some of the best healing sessions I've ever received in my life & I've decided to throw my head into a week's intensive Spanish course. My teacher, Myra, is of Mayan descent & talking to her about the legends surrounding the lake & it's towns has been fascinating. Almost every afternoon the wind picks up & starts whisking around the sleepy little towns & villages. Mayan legend tells that the wind comes to take away the sins of the people, purifying the area every night, ready for the dawn of a new day. Myra actually told me this story in Spanish...so it's good to see that after 5 days of classes at 4 hours each day, I've learned enough to understand a Mayan legend or two! I'm sure that if I stayed long enough I'd soon immerse myself in all manner of spiritual courses. But...my itchy traveller's feet are eager to move on & experience more of this fascinating land. I may return to this beguiling place & embrace my inner solemn spiritual practitioner after all...we'll see what the rest of my journey holds. On Sunday we begin a week-long shamanic pilgrimage through the sacred sites of Guatemala...I'm sure there will be some epic stories arising from that!

Lucy & Isis, my fellow travelling godesses - and lovely Zoe

The captivating volcanoes of Lake Atitlan shrouded in the morning mist

It was very sad to say goodbye to the beautiful souls I had connected with during my time at Ashiyana. It had been a very intense month and some deep friendship bonds were formed for sure. It was with a slightly heavy heart that I stepped on the plane, waving goodbye to the sandy shores of Goa and the wooden yoga shalas of Ashiyana. I hoped and prayed that it would not be too long before I could reconnect with those who had become so dear to me during my time at Ashiyana. As sad as the goodbyes were, I had to look onwards to what lay ahead for me...a quick pit-stop in Bangalore for a night of fun behind the decks, spinning some tunes for the very swish Blue Bar at the Taj President Hotel. It was great to reconnect with the lovely Praveen & Sam - and be treated to a night in a very, very posh hotel. Next, I would head to Rishekesh, the self-proclaimed yoga capital of the world, with Tania, Jenny & Violetta - a few of my buddies from Ashiyana. And who else would I happen to find there? None other than Sophie! The universe was obviously conspiring to unite us once again.

It did feel special to be on the banks of the great holy Ganges, but I could not help but feel a little overwhelmed at the complete commercialisation of Rishekesh. It was a very beautiful place for sure, and when wandering in tranquility along the banks of the great holy river, you did feel a connection to spirituality...but the over saturation of yoga, meditation and music schools seemed to dilute the magic considerably for me. In such a place of great holy repute you are also bound to find massive numbers of seekers, and I did feel everywhere around me I was surrounded by people who were ultimately lost, trying to find answers at the feet of gurus, or in a whirlwind of chanting...it all felt a little disempowering - a few too many lost souls for my own comfort zone. Water rafting companies are also two-a-penny here...it just doesn't seem right to have such activities in such a holy river...am I being too precious here?

We gave a yoga class a go, but were ultimately disappointed - we had been spoiled by Linda's expertise on the course - she is a very, very hard act to follow! Instead, I found my own self-practice more fulfilling, which, whilst a little disappointing from one perspective, is also very empowering and encouraging from another. Having the knowledge to be able to diagnose what my body needs - and to be able to practice according to those requirements is quite a gift. For sure, there are many reputable ashrams in Rishekesh, offering an array of wonderful yoga courses...but having just come from a strict routine at Ashiyana, I didn't feel inclined to check myself in to the confines of another ashram. I was almost tempted by the Kriya yoga ashram on the recommendation of a good friend who had just been there, but I felt now was not the right time for me...the higher ground of Himalayan Dharamkot was calling me, and my feet were itching to get there. I had just about enough time to make an impromptu trip to an absolutely breathtaking waterfall - which looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie - it was so utterly beautiful. Jenny & I took a cheeky naked shower under the misty tumbling waters, which revived and energised us in the most beautifully uplifting way.

I then made a quick detour to Mumbai to play a gig at an absolutely wonderful club called Aurus. I made yet another amazing friend in Mankaran, the lovely venue manager who booked me for the gig - and we spent the night chatting about human evolution, multi-dimensional existence, and companies that have the ability to energetically reprogram the vibrational frequency of materials so they emanate a positive frequency. Fascinating stuff! From Mumbai I flew to Delhi - transiting from the life of a DJ, having everything paid for, to sitting in a dark and dingy, run-down cafe in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of Delhi, awaiting my bus to take me to Dharamkot (which was 100 times more hospitable than the 'bus stop' 200 meters away, down a deserted road, in the middle of a derelict industrial building site). Fabulous. I love these extreme changes, they are so stimulating for the soul! Princess Liz almost came out - nearly despairing over whether or not this was actually a legitimate bus stop and whether I would ever make it onto this bus, but I caught myself, reigned myself in, had faith, and accepted the situation at hand. Sure enough, there were plenty of very lovely and helpful people at hand who saw me onto the bus that eventually arrived. Patience, tolerance...patience, tolerance.

The 12 hour bus ride from was actually not as bad as I'd been anticipating - even with the battery on my iPod running out halfway through the night. We eventually arrived in Dharamsala at around 5:30am and of course I was immediately greeted by an eager taxi driver who of course offered me an overly-inflated fare to take me to Dharamkot. Not really caring much to argue,  simply asked him which way I needed to go and proceeded to walk up the mountain. The fresh mountain air filled my nose, and the snowy Himalayan peaks rose in front of me in the distance. "I'm in the Himalayas!" I thought to myself...and my feet seemed to want to walk. I started to walk in what I was told was the way to Dharamkot (at 5am, and on barely no sleep for 2 nights) and I was eventually greeted by a little dude from the army who also happened to be heading int he same direction as me. He immediately offered to carry my rucksack, and found it highly amusing that I'd decided to walk my way to Dharamkot at 5am.

After climbing up some pretty steep hills and doing a spot of off-roading through some short-cuts, we eventually reached McLeod Ganj - the town just before Dharamkot - and Tibetan monks in their red robes passed us by, quietly chanting mantras as they went on their way. I felt at peace here - safe, tranquil...but my little tired legs could carry me no further and when a taxi driver offered to take us to Dharamkot for 100 Rupees I immediately accepted. The army dude jumped out (not literally) halfway there to get to his barracks - and in his pigeon English he wished me well. The taxi continued on and I glimpsed the Vipassana centre where I will be doing my 10 day silent meditation from Sunday...and I felt my heart jump in my chest. As the day approaches I am definitely beginning to feel a little nervous about it.

I reached the guest house where Jenny & Tania were staying, and I was greeted with chai and smiles. I briefly saw the girls, then had to head to bed for a power snooze. After waking I headed into town to explore my surroundings - so beautiful and serene - I feel totally safe here. White butterflies flutter around everywhere in their hundreds - it literally looks like there are snowflakes in the air when you look up - and people are chilled out and friendly - tourists and locals alike. I've also managed to find a little music school and have decided to learn to play the Indian flute - it's a lot different to the western flute, so I have an interesting challenge ahead of me. We've found a magnificent yoga teacher from Varanasi who has been putting us through our paces...and I've taken it upon myself to learn some powerful kundalini pranayama exercises to prepare myself for the Vipassana...let's wait and see what the next little while has in store for me. I'll be sure to report back to you from the other side of the Vipassana meditation course...wish me luck!

Yoga antics on the beach with my soul sister from New Jersey, Sandra (left), our utterly amazing yoga teacher Linda, (me!), my beautiful sister from another mother, Yam...and adorable Ashley - a Bollywood choreographer from Mumbai no less!

More beach yoga fun!

A beautiful Goan sunrise on our way to catch some dolphin action

Enjoying the freedom of boat life

Catching a quick snooze at Ashiyana in between yoga classes

Across this bridge you'll find beautiful Ashiyana...such idyllic surroundings

The reception area at Ashiyana

The main yoga shala where we had most of our yoga classes

We did it! We graduated!!!

Lakshman Jula - one of the main bridges of Rishekesh

The holy Ganges surrounded by the foothills of the Himalayas

The leading ladies of Rishekesh!

Sunset on the banks of the Ganges

Taking a little dip in the holy (and extremely cold!) waters

Yoga in action...this monkey has it down!

The beautiful waterfall in Rishekesh

Puja time on the Ganges

Beautiful Dharamkot

Two monks help one another up the steep pathway

Yup, it's a bit fresh up in these mountains!

Happy coffee!

The snow-capped peaks of the Himalaya can be seen on a clear day

Yup! Even the holy monks listen to iPods.

As my Goa-bound flight climbed into the sky above Mumbai I felt an unexpected wave of sadness. It took me a while to adjust to the rhythm of this crazy metropolis...but my heart had grown to love it in Mumbai, and my last few days with lovely Randolph really were such a treat. Stepping off the plane at 8pm in Goa, the hot tropical air embraced me...it felt good to be back here...the familiarity almost felt like coming home. A short taxi ride took me to Ashiyana, where I would be spending the forthcoming month doing my yoga teacher training course. Despite arriving at Ashiyana in the dark, I could see how breathtakingly beautiful it was. Set on the banks of the serene Mandrem river, nestled amongst the coconut palms, with the ocean a stone's throw away, it really felt like a perfect tropical paradise. My heart was racing with excitement and anticipation at what the month ahead had in store for me.


In daylight the true beauty of Ashiyana came into full bloom - 3 gorgeous wooden yoga shalas, beautiful luxurious accommodation (yes, I was sleeping in a massive four poster bed with white sequinned curtains no less - what a treat!!) ...and a collection of the most incredible people. There was a total of around 40 people on the course all together, including teachers and students - and I can truly say from the bottom of my heart that I loved every single one of them. Such an inspiring and colourful collection of human beings, each on their own little journey, and each with so much wisdom to offer. Our teachers were other-worldly in their magnificence - Linda and Yamuna our yoga teachers, were absolutely divine - so inspirational! 


The first week of the course saw me in a state of perpetual bliss. Not only did it feel amazing to be back amongst the coconut palms and sandy beaches of Goa, but being able to fully immerse myself in yoga & spirituality with so many like-minded people felt so nourishing. I was in beautiful surroundings, with so many beautiful people around me - and already I felt like I'd made some lifelong friendship bonds with some very, very special souls. My body was definitely taking a battering with all the physical exercise - and Linda's amazing flow classes certainly pushed me physically in the most wonderful ways possible...the sweat was literally pouring off me at times! My mind was getting bent just as much as my body with deep philosophical discussions and profound meditative experiences...and different interactions with people on the course brought to light more of my little rough edges that needed smoothing off. Our days were long - and tremendously busy - we started at 7:30am and finished at 9:30pm practically 6 days a week. We were officially meant to be in silence from 8pm until 10:30am the following day, but I found it such a challenge to maintain! Not because I'm a chatterbox (yes, I can hear you all laughing from here), but because there were so many amazing people here, all going on incredible journeys - and the days were so full the only time we really had to debate and process the events of the day was during the evenings, when we were meant to be in silence. What a conundrum! 


The Hindu festival of Holi occurred during our time at Ashiyana. It is a religious spring festival also known as Festival of Colours - and we celebrated it with morning yoga on the beach, followed by a full-on colour fight during which we smeared brightly coloured powders all over each other! What fun! A couple of us later went in search for more colourful fun in Mandrem village and were greeted by a small group of children who insisted on smearing us with more bright colours. Needless to say one of my buddies & I wondered around Ashiyana for the remainder of the day proudly covered in bright red and purple powder! 


During the night of the full moon wonderful Yamuna lead a bonfire ritual on the beach - we held a cleansing fire ritual, danced around the fire and howled at the full moon - it felt fabulous, so freeing. We danced, drummed and sang under the silvery light of the moon, with the gentle waves lapping up against the beach as our backdrop. 


Despite the days being super long and very full-on, I did have a lot of time for introspection. I remembered the days when I first started to tread the road of healing, naively thinking that I could call on a healer to deliver me a one-stop fix to all my problems and afflictions. Instead, the road to self healing is perpetual, and constantly changes as you yourself evolve - and if you lead your life with awareness it is amazing to watch what unfolds before you. If you allow your emotions to breath through you, if you are conscious to not allow your 'monkey mind' to become involved - to just sit and be present with what you are feeling in the here and now, without judgement, you become aware that your emotions are there to help you grow - you just have to learn to read the underlying messages contained within those emotions. For me that has been - and continues to be - an interesting - and sometimes exhausting challenge.


The lessons I learned in Amma's ashram - those of acceptance, tolerance, compassion & non-judgement, continue to journey with me & as I keep reminding myself of their qualities, so I find my appreciation and gratitude deepen. It is easy to cast judgement upon a person, situation or thing - it is not so easy to accept, tolerate or show compassion towards it. These things require constant awareness - and a desire to practice them. But I have realised, when you can find it within yourself to observe this practice, you can see the beauty in all. When you go deeper and examine where your ego-based reactions come from, you can begin healing yourself in the most beautifully profound ways. You develop a true understanding of yourself - and an acceptance begins to emerge of its own accord - and acceptance of who you are. Once this little beam of light begins to shine, you automatically begin to practice acceptance of your outside world - as without so within. I'm not saying everything in life all of a sudden becomes rosy...it doesn't...but you do develop an ability to learn the lessons life is trying to teach you when you face people & situations that are challenging. 


The course was such a beautiful experience in so many different ways. There is so much more to being a yoga teacher than I had imagined - the spirituality behind the practice is insanely beautiful. The science behind the asanas (yoga poses) makes complete sense. Our mental tension manifests as physical tension in our bodies. With regular practice, yoga eventually irons out these physical tensions, thus allowing blood to flow to previously starved muscle tissue, reviving your body through the removal of congestion and allowing your energy to flow freely through your body once more. Marrying science with spirituality has been a totally beautiful experience. Already I feel this path is going to lead to many more exciting things...yoga therapy being one of them. Little did I know, but this course was just the very beginning!

From Udaipur we made the 16 hour overnight bus journey (thankfully without any toilet emergencies…praise be to the merciful gods of poo!!) to the desert city of Jaisalmer. The landscapes of Rajasthan stand in contrast to the lush & leafy tropical south - up in the north-west the land is dry and arid this time of year. The mountains rise up, rocky, dusty, dry and golden, and the grasslands are parched and straw-like. It is beautifully stark. As we began nearing the golden city of Jaisalmer, the mountains flattened into the prairie-like desert plains of the Great Thar Desert. We arrived during the middle of the Desert Festival, and the city was bustling. Thankfully, on the recommendation of a friend, we had booked our hotel in advance, and wonderfully they came to pick us up from the bus station. If you ever happen to visit Jaisalmer, stay at the Mystic Jaisalmer guest house – it’s a fabulous, very friendly little place, run by lovely Ashraf – who goes out of his way to make you feel welcome & ensure you have all you need. When we booked, Sophie & I opted for a tent on the roof. In my head, I imagined a safari-like, big tent…but what we got was literally a camping tent on the roof! Ha! We laughed and agreed “bring it on”. It was cosily kitted out with warm mattresses and duvets, and Sophie & I very quickly felt right at home in our wee tent. 

Since we’d made the journey to Jaisalmer specifically for the desert festival, we headed out into the city to sample the sights & sounds. It was all taking place inside the sandy city stadium. Crowds were huddled around the arena, some on camels, others seated at the stalls, to watch the camel show. The camels were paraded around, and then some camel acrobatics took place. It made for good entertainment, but in all honesty, it was slightly naff. We stayed for about an hour before we’d had our fill of entertainment…and went in search of food, bumping into the rather dishy ‘Mr Desert 2012’ (really wouldn’t complain too much if he kidnapped me in the middle of the desert) – and wandering through the bazaars, taking in the beautiful & intricate architecture of the city.

The following day we opted to go on a camel safari through the desert. Whilst we were in Udaipur, Sophie & I managed to venture out to purchase ourselves a pair of absolutely divine turbans that we fully intended to wear in the desert whilst riding on a camel. We simply could not wait to bring our turbans out of their boxes and get ourselves dressed up for our desert adventure. Ambling through the dry & dusty plains on our camels, I truly felt like Lawrence of Arabia and couldn’t get the theme tune to the movie out of my head! The sun was bright and hot, and the wind was strong and cold. It was such a strange climate – hot but cold…and so very dry. No matter how much moisturizer I put on my face it still felt as dry as the desert itself! The dunes were serenely beautiful - I gazed at them, watching as the wind ceaselessly carved the sandy curves out of the tiny grains of sand. We visited little villages, glimpsing the lifestyle of the desert people. Life out in the desert must be tough – the people look haggard and worn...but yet they still smile and have a zest for life. We spent one night in the desert, camping out under the stars and the full moon. As we watched the sun setting behind the dunes in the west, we saw the full moon rising above the dunes in the east. It was a truly beautiful moment. Sleeping under the full moon was utterly magnificent – and the desert is beautifully serene & silent. You can hear the gentle hum of the wind around you, and the noises of the camels in the distance…and that’s about it. Despite the temperatures getting close to freezing during the night, we were well & truly cosy under a tonne of blankets.

Next, we headed to Jodhpur, the blue city – accompanied by Fa & So (how perfectly melodious), a beautiful Argentinian couple we had completely fallen in love with during our camel safari. Whilst we were there So, Sophie & I had some beautiful gagra cholis (traditional Rajasthani dresses) made for us, especially to wear at a wedding we had been invited to in Mumbai. In true girly style, we got so excited gushing about how beautiful the dresses looked and how many stunning, stunning pieces of cloth were all around us in the shop, that we almost had ourselves in tears – silly girls! Never have I been anywhere as colourful as Jodhpur's market - rows and rows of bangles, beautiful gagra cholis, pashmina shawls, beautifully carved statues of Hindu gods...this really felt like India!

To contrast the uber-girly indulgence of the previous day, Sophie & I ventured to the fort of Jodhpur in search of the Flying Fox zipline. It had been so highly recommended to us by one of the crew from Udaipur that we simply had to do it – and what an exhilarating experience it was! I felt like 007 himself as I zipped across the fort, traversing rivers and flying above the rooftops of Jodhpur. What an awesome way of seeing the city! I couldn’t help but sing the James Bond theme tune to myself as I zipped from one corner of the city to another. A definite ‘must-do’ on your list of Jodhpurian activities!

Onwards to Pushkar…but not without a compulsory 'manic Indian moment'…foolishly, Sophie & I had thought we could fit in the zipline, picking up our dresses from the tailor, withdrawing cash and catching the bus to Pushkar by 1pm. Oh no. Our dresses were late, none of the cash machines in the area were working…and the rickshaw driver didn’t know how to get to the bus station. Note to self…never, ever leave anything to the last minute in India! Nothing here happens quickly or easily! We made it to the bus just in time – and breathed a massive sigh of relief as we slumped into our seats. Pushkar – such a beautiful little town – with so many beautiful things to buy! I must admit, I came a little unstuck here and went on a bit of a shopping frenzy, treating myself to some gorgeous silk clothes…and they’re so very pretty! It wasn’t all about consumerism in Pushkar. Sophie & I ventured up a hill to one of the hill-top temples for a spot of spirituality, taking an open-minded little crew with us for a little spiritual cleansing ritual, and a fabulous view of the town.

And it was with Pushkar that we departed beautiful Rajasthan, destined for the metropolis of Mumbai. It is true what they say, you really do feel like you’re in real India up here – it is so full of colour and beauty - women wear fabulously coloured, sequined gagra cholis - think bright scarlets, fuchsias, yellows, greens - and sometimes cover their faces with their luminescent veils, giving them such ethereal beauty. The people are so warm & friendly – travellers and locals alike. As we sat on our train to Mumbai, Sophie & I reflected on how many wonderful people we had met since arriving in Rajasthan. It was hard to say goodbye to them and keep moving on, but I guess the very nature of travelling teaches you to let go – of preconceptions as well as attachments. It is perpetual transition – in your immediate surroundings you cannot develop any attachments for long, and if you carry preconceptions or expectations you ultimately risk hampering your experiences by placing judgement on them. It has been very interesting trying to apply this to my own life…travelling also offers you the gift of time – time to think – and dig out all those old attachments that no longer serve you.

And on that note we entered Mumbai…which has been a great teacher. It has tested our patience to the extreme, it has stretched (and probably increased) my endurance, it has definitely made me stronger and wiser. It’s a busy, bustling city – and it has a rhythm that takes a little while to adjust to. You need to learn – and learn fast - to deal with certain things…like handling the rickshaw drivers in a way that prevents them from literally driving you around in circles just to earn a few extra bucks from your ignorance. It’s busy, it’s bustling – it’s an assault on the senses – and the traffic is insane. London traffic? It’s a walk in the park compared to Mumbai’s roads. But, it is also charming and beautiful once you learn to rock with its rhythm. Built on the west coast, you are never far away from the ocean (even if it's not really apt for swimming in) and the diversity of people living within the city is really something to marvel at. The super rich live alongside the uber poor - and slums are surrounded by affluent financial districts. Whilst here, Sophie and I went on an eye-opening tour of Dharavi, Mumbai's oldest slum. A far cry from the desolate, poverty-stricken wasteland I was expecting, Dharavi is actually responsible for generating around $630 million a year. That said, it is mind-bogglingly densely populated - some of the streets are so narrow you can barely squeeze through them...and whole families live in unthinkably tiny houses. And as we wondered through the industrial area of the slum, I couldn't help but think to myself that the industries generated here are some of the seriously tough ones: plastic recycling, industrial paint & oil can recycling...and preparing animal skins for tanning (I will now definitely think twice before buying leather). There is industry here sure, but the people live in a less than hospitable environment...and their salaries are incredibly low. It certainly puts things into perspective. I'll definitely think twice now about complaining about the lack of space in London...

A world away from the slum was the traditional Indian wedding I was so blessed to be able to attend. One of Sophie’s closest friends is from India, and it was her cousin’s wedding. His family were so kind that they extended the invitation to me when they learned that Sophie & I were travelling together. What an extraordinarily amazing experience it was. The first event was a family gathering that involved much dancing to the sound of traditional Indian drumming, getting beautiful henna painted on to my hands, family members sitting in a circle singing traditional Indian songs…and of course tremendous amounts of delicious food. It was wonderful to be introduced to the groom’s family and to have such a privileged insight into such an important event in any Indian family’s calendar. 

The main event took place a day later – and Sophie & I excitedly donned our gorgeous gagra cholis that we’d had made in Rajasthan. We certainly made heads turn as we walked to the street to hail a rickshaw, our sequined skirts & veils shimmering in the Mumbai sunshine. We arrived at the family’s home just as everyone was getting ready – the ladies were putting on their finest (and tremendously beautiful) saris – and the men were looking smart in suits. After being served up chai and food, we were ushered into a marquee, where the men were having their turbans tied. The groom was escorted in, looking very dashing in a glittering golden jacket & turban. The priest prepared the area & the groom was seated. He was then bedecked with a golden crown, draped in sparkling golden tinsel that covered his face, and garlands covered with cash were hung around his neck. The drummers began banging out their infectious rhythms and the crowd exploded into joyous dance, twirling cash around the groom’s head. The procession then began moving outside the marquee and into the streets, where the groom was raised up onto a horse. We paraded the streets, towards a coach that would take us to the hall for the main ceremony. As we approached, dancing and drumming, people gathered at the side of the streets to watch the procession & wish the groom well.

Upon arrival at the grounds of the hall, we were greeted by another band – and an organ on wheels no less. Our drummers were also close by, and the two bands played conflicting rhythms, which, if you were caught in the middle of them, sent your head into dizzy confusion. I giggled to myself…so much like India herself. We were greeted by the rest of the wedding guests as we danced our way up the hill to the hall. Men were carrying huge candelabras on their heads, whilst waiters busily pushed trolleys laden with yummy appetizers, trying to avoid the toes of the dancing masses. We arrived at the entrance to the hall and the priest summoned the significant males of both the bride & the groom’s families. He placed garlands of flowers around their necks and they embraced one another, signifying the union of the families. We were then lead under a fairytale-esq archway, draped in flowing fabrics...and along a pathway, decorated with pretty coloured lights and flowers, to the main area. It was like walking onto the set of a fairy tale movie – it was vast – and all so beautifully decorated. As we entered the wedding area, the magnitude of the event really hit home – to the left was a stage adorned with swirly golden pillars that the bride & groom would later sit on to take their vows, next to that were 2 swimming pools, and to the right was a massive area with tables & chairs, several food stalls serving a wide array of delicious treats, couches to chill out on, water fountains, and various bars serving an assortment of hot & cold drinks. At the very front was a huge, elaborately decorated stage – and…a skycam, televising the whole event onto two enormous television screens that were placed either side of the stage.

After the guests had had a little time to sit and sip mocktails, the groom entered on his trusty steed and was lead to the main stage, he was dismounted and carried up onto the stage, and then lead to his throne to await his bride. After a few moments, the drumming could be heard once more, and the bride entered, covered by a red canopy, held up by her relatives. She looked absolutely beautiful (and also a little terrified), as she made her way up to the stage to meet her groom. The couple were wed - but no vows took place at this point - that happens at the very end of the night - this was a very quick ceremony. Next came a full-on feast of all sorts of varieties of Indian culinary delights - and Sophie & I absolutely gorged ourselves! At around 2am, the guests began gathering around the swirly golden stage near the swimming pools for the ceremony of vows. The priest read the vows to the newly-weds as they ceremoniously walked around a fire. Gifts were offered to them and flower petals were thrown over them to signify the end of the beautiful ceremony. Next, back to the groom's family home (and now the home of his new bride) for some traditional wedding games that involved fishing a golden ring out of a bowl of milk. The wonderful night ended at around 7am the next day...wow...wonderful!

From slums to weddings...to partying with the beautiful people of Mumbai. Halfway through my stay here I linked up with Randolph - one of the many lovely people I met through Pawas - who (in addition to being absolutely wonderful) just so happens to be somewhat of an Indian rock star. It's been a lot of fun hanging out with him, sampling the trendy party scene of the city - and putting the world to rights with long philosophical conversations! Tonight & tomorrow night I'm donning my DJ hat once more to play at a couple of cool little intimate parties. Very much looking forward to getting behind the decks again!

Then on Saturday evening I'm flying back to Goa for my yoga teacher training course. I'm so looking forward to fully immersing myself in yoga & meditation for a whole month...

 

The local cows of Jaisalmer having a chill amongst the market stalls

Part of the view of the Jaisalmer Desert Festival

More festive fun...and the fort of Jaisalmer in the background

A colourful crowd enjoying desert festival entertainment...well, at least some of them are...

The dark & mysterious Mr Desert 2012...oo-er...

Some of the gorgeous intricate architecture of Jaisalmer

Market time in Jaisalmer!

The Jaisalmer fort in all its glory...which is apparently sinking into the hill it's built on...

Morning!!! Waking up in our little rooftop tent...

The camels await to take us on our desert adventure...

A sample of desert village life

the sand dunes of the Great Thar Desert

Camel - check! Turban - check! Right then...off to the desert it is...

 

Setting up camp for the night in the desert

Trying to keep warm as the sun sets

desert camp!

Waking in the desert after sleeping under the stars...and a tonne of duvets!

Our desert trail

The beautiful blue city of Jodhpur

Zipping!!!

Taking a moment to strike a pose on the swing outside our pretty little room in Pushkar

Pretty Pushkar from the hilltop temple

The sacred bathing ghats of Pushkar

The Gateway To India, Mumbai

Hazey Mumbai

Having a chill on one of the many beaches of Mumbai

Having my hands painted with henna

At the family home, waiting for the festivities to begin!

The groom, bedecked in his golden tinsely crown

Dancing & twirling money!

The groom on his steed, with a little child - who, traditionally, would be his replacement should the groom suffer death in the ensuing fight for his bride. Happily these days the fighting part is eliminated.

Dancing in the streets!

The approach to the hall for the main wedding celebrations

The bride arriving on stage to meet her groom

The newly-weds!

Kisses from Mumbai!

The main stage...

It's all part of the wedding baby!

Yup, there were fountains too...

I do love my pink sparkly dress & veil!

The stage on which the couple took their vows

Bestowing gifts upon the newly-wed couple

Prettiness!

Pretty colours!