Thank you, India

I am heading home and what a journey it has been. It feels like months ago that I was sitting in Melbourne airport eagerly awaiting the call to board the plane. India, you have given me one hell of a ride and I know that I have only skimmed the surface of what this country has to offer.

Here are a few things running through my very tired mind:

I love India. It is not an easy place to travel through. You have to be willing to negotiate, argue, squat, get sick, breathe in very polluted air, see things you possibly don't agree with and, if you're a women, get ogled by men, but it is one hell of a place regardless of all these things.

I love how when I say thank you people say 'welcome'.

I love being lost in a sea of people.

I love seeing women in delicate, colorful saris.

I love learning - both the educational variety and learning things abouy culture and life itself from people who have lived it.

I love travelling.

I love the comfort of having a home to go to, with a lovely bed and a shower that has clean water. For this I am extremely grateful.

I love fruit, in all countries.

I love chai, and the ceremony that goes with it.

And lastly, I love exploring, I love adventure, I love writing and I intend to do these things to the day I die.

Thank you India, you have been a garland of vibrant awesomeness.

'Welcome', she says.

From the heaving city of Mumbai to a tranquil beach in Goa, India has it all

Putnam beach in south Goa is great and thanks to the lovely looking women in saris sweeping the beach (yes, that is correct, sweeping the beach), it is very clean. I've been staying at Lotus Yoga Retreat for the last three nights and doing various yoga classes looking out over the beach morning and night. Devine! There are excellent restaurants lining the beach selling a mixture of Indian, Italian, Chinese and Goan dishes. This is to cater for all the tourists that visit this area for the six months that the sun is shining. Two of my favourite spots to eat are Chillies, where Jess and I sat with our feet in the sand and sampled the catch of the day before trying their Goan desert  babyinka (?). We also got to play with their adorable puppy Bella. The big paws and floppy ears are just too cute. Another favourite that allowed me to carry on with my mid morning coffee is called Home. It is owned by a Swiss couple and offers a mixture of beautiful European cuisine. Seems strange when you're in India, but the coffee and black grape juice is to die for.

Jess and I fell in love, first with the puppy and secondly with the young chap that walks the length of the beach all morning. He is a child, but he has the clothes and wisdom of an old man. Dressed in high waisted trousers and a check shirt and sandals he sells newspapers and garlands of flowers. The second day I was here he walked past and said the usual 'flowers?', I said 'no, thank you' and he looked at me with a crestfallen face and said 'Oh, pretty flowers' in the cutest voice in the entire world. It melts your heart. Yesterday I bought some of his pretty flowers. It made his day.

Someone asked me what I liked best about India. I had to think about it for a while, because there are so many different things I could take away with me. However, the unpredictability is what I love. And this surprises me. I thought I would hate unpredictability. But there have been various instances where I have set out not knowing what was in store and after nine hours, several car rides, numerous cups of chai and four or five locations I have found myself once again lying under my mosquito net perplexed, and at the same time filled with wonder, at the unpredictability of it all. Questions race through my mind: How does the honking system work? How is it that traffic flows, yet doesn't flow? Why are there no rubbish bins? What is the secret ingredient in chai? But the biggest question of all is how does all this chaos, wonder and unpredictability leave you wanting more? There is something intoxicating about being surrounded by extremes and in the midst of a country of contrasts. There is a functionality about the whole thing that is perplexing, confusing and at times tiring, but one cannot help being pulled deeper and deeper into its heaving pulse.

Cartwheels along Putnam Beach at dawn

This morning I rose after a restless night. There are a pack of stray, but delightful, dogs that congregate outside my current accommodation, the Bridge and Tunnel. They spend their nights howling at the moon and their days lying on the beach with their bodies nestled into coves dug out in the sand. Some of the stray dogs in other parts of India are rather disheveled and I fear for rabies. However, thanks to the local animal rescue team around Putnam and Colomb bay these dogs are quite lovely.

There is something extremely comforting about waking up, walking out your door, and pressing your feet into the sand. The ocean waves have a methodical nature that makes sitting quietly by the beach at dawn tranquil. Today I headed south along Putnam beach, my feet toying with the lapping waves. Something stirred inside me and my inner child took hold as I performed several cartwheels along the beach, the only audience was the ocean waves. I then pressed my big toe into the sand and drew a love heart, because I could.

I have spent the last few days here on Putnam beach in south Goa with Jess. After the chaotic vibe that had become familiar in the large cities, it is a welcome change. This beach is one of the quieter beaches in Goa, with less tourists and a very relaxed feel. The beach is lined with restaurants and resorts and signs advertising yoga, it feels like my kind of paradise. I have attended several yoga classes and yesterday I went along to the Shiva Yoga Center where Swami Shivanand Jee took us through his gentle hatha yoga session. The day before I had gone to an early morning ashtanga (Mysore style) yoga session and while it was great, I have problems with my knee and hip and so didn't want to push it to the limit, because that's not what yoga is about after all. I got into a conversation with Swami after the yoga session as I was keen to see what sort of insight this yogi from India had. He told me about life, happiness and love and one thing stood out from the rest. He said 'what is beautiful? ... Truth is beautiful. Beauty is truth. It's not until you know you're own truth that you can be happy'. I think these were very wise words.

Last night we made our way to Neptune Point after hearing that there was an open air cinema. It is an absolutely stunning bay and we ate our dinner while watching the sun go down. As we ate there were a large group of kids playing football on the sand. They ran up and down the bay, the older boys taking charge and instructing the younger ones on the finer points of the game. There were some serious skills unfolding in front of my eyes. What a wonderful way to spend the evening for these children. I am reminded of going on a family holiday to Otaki as a child and spending hours on the beach making sand castles and rolling, time and time again, down the enormous dunes. At the time they seemed like mountains to us as we set out from the base and crawled and dug our way to the top. But it was all worth it when at last we reached the top. We'd climb on our flutter boards or cardboard or any other board we found lying around and fly down the dunes, sand spraying out beside us. Nothing felt better than that. Pure bliss. I intend now to go off and enjoy the rest of the day, doing more child like activities, because it feels like that kind of day.

The red sari that sailed the streets of Mumbai

Mumbai is a wonderful city, well what I've seen of it anyway. It's huge. Some 14 million people live in this city and there was evidence of this wherever we turned. Geographically speaking Mumbai is long and skinny (technically speaking) and so is surrounded by water. Some of the bridges are magnificent and beautifully lit at night. We are staying in south Mumbai in an area called Colaba which has a distinctive colonial feel. The Sassoon docks and the marine parade are a minutes walk and make for a really nice morning walk to go and get a descent coffee.

I've spent the last few days wandering the streets. Down the end of our road I purchased some water from a lovely girl in a deep blue sari. Her shop, wrapped in a square and hugged closely around her, was lined top to bottom with crisps, Indian snacks and sweets, water, lighters and cigarettes. The layout reminded me of a shed we had down the bottom of our property in Eastbourne when I was four years old. My sisters and I used to play shops for hours, lining the shelves with jars and cans of food to sell to our imaginary customers. Preparing the shop was always the most fun.

One of the main shopping districts is Colaba Causeway, a bustling area with tourists and locals mingling about. Every meter or so vegetable vendors sit with their fruit and vegetables displayed before them, the pinks of the pomegranate shine under the mid morning haze. Every building has its own distinctive exterior, my favourite is the turquoise brocade apartments, with windows strung open and shutters pulled revealing linen hanging to dry. Jess and I went into several shops to try on various clothes. Rather than changing rooms they use trial rooms, which I thought was super cute. After all, we were trialing the clothes, if only for a minute. Some shops don't have a trial room, only mirrors. I asked a man, all dressed in white, if he had a trial room and he said 'no, it's your size'. I had a quiet chuckle. That's not the point mister. I did like the conviction in his voice, however, and I thought it was a very useful strategy to use.

On this day in Mumbai there were vendors galore as we made our way along the arts precinct. We passed a woman with a monkey on a chain and I quickly turned away so as to avoid any contact with woman, monkey and feeling associated with woman, monkey and chain. Further on we walked past several men selling their artwork, all beautiful pieces with vibrant colors known to India. I ended up purchasing a lovely painting created by a local man named Sanjay. I have become accustomed to the street life. As it was a public day there were people everywhere. On one corner an infant was tight rope walking with something balanced on her head. Not the usual extra-curricular activity for children under the age of four, but maybe in Mumbai it is? On the next corner a mother had tied a piece of fabric between two posts and was using it as a hammock to swing her baby high into the air, and I mean high. As we made our way back along the Cooperage maideen there were hundreds of men lounging, leaning, watching and playing the countries prized sport, cricket. I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked about cricket. It is the sport that binds us. Watching these games from outside the fence I could feel the energy it created. In the next street we pass a man on a bicycle transporting several cartons of eggs. What an amazingly optimistic means of transportation.

The last image of Mumbai that sticks in my mind is wonderful yet surprising. It is the image of a women. She sits sidesaddle on the back of a motorbike, her red sari glistening in the wind as it flows out behind her. Such delicate fabrics atop such oily pieces of machinery. I love the contrast it creates. These bikes weave in and out of the traffic, and it still amazes me how women are able to sit on the back with babies in their hands and feel at ease. While it sits under a sea of smog, it is a wonderfully vibrant city and I hope to return another day for masala tea and a lassi.