History
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To Hoi An: The Land Of Lanterns
And so we head to Hoi An, a place about which we have heard so many good things that this will be our longest stay in one place whilst in Vietnam, a full six days. Our original intention was to go by train from Hue to Da Nang and then taxi to Hoi An, but we got chatting to a guy in a cafe on the first morning in Hue who told us he can book a bus which will take us door to door for half the price of the taxi alone. Bargain. Bargain? Well, yes, but boy does the journey bring surprises. Sure enough, we get picked up…
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Tam Coc to Hue: Inside The Imperial City
The climb to the dual peaks of Hang Mua is a hefty ascent of over 500 steps which are so irregular and uneven that coming back down is almost as tricky as going up, but the magnificent views from the top make every bit of the effort worthwhile. Sweeping panoramas across the lush green paddy fields, towering karst limestone hulks and twisting rivers lead the eye eventually to the urban sprawl of Ninh Binh city. These views hammer home just how much water there is here: villages are islands and roads are causeways. At Hang Mua, gardens have been laid at the foot of the hills and a few cafes…
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The Chaos And Joys Of Delhi
It feels good to get the backpacks unpacked as we settle back into Delhi – the first time we’ve been able to unpack in the ten days since we left England. Coupled with the sense of freedom now that we are once again independent after the confines of the Buddha Train experience, it feels positively liberating to wander out into the lively streets around Connaught Place. Gulping a first beer in eight days feels pretty good too. Even if it is Kingfisher. After majoring in Buddhism, touching on Hinduism at the Aarti in Varanasi and Islam at the Taj Mahal, our first port of call back in Delhi is the…
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Completing The Buddha Circuit: Balrampur-Sravasti-Taj Mahal
We awake on Day 7 of this 8-day tour with our train silent and stationary at Balrampur station, the sky grey outside and the early morning cup of chai clanking its way down the corridor. Amongst the Punctual group we have bets on how much we’ll miss the 6.30am departure time by: Lovely Malaysian Lady wins with a punt at 7:05 which proves to be out by just one minute. Thirty four minutes late. Here we go again. Of course we have some very decent people with us on this train as well as those who have surprised us with their behaviour: Malaysian Lady and Pretty Girl are just two…
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Birth, Death & Border Horrors: In And Out Of Nepal
The wheels of the Buddha train are still rolling as we finish breakfast and wander back to our compartment: evidently there has been some sort of delay overnight and we finally trundle into Nautanwa station about two hours behind schedule. Nautanwa is the end of India’s railway line, the border with Nepal just a few miles away. In spite of the extra two hours to prepare, and in spite of strict instructions to disembark quickly, about ten of the Dawdlers are late, and finally – finally, after 30 minutes waiting on the coach – Little Miss Selfie, the most incorrigible of the Dawdle group, bowls up as if it’s all…
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Absent Karma On The Buddha Train
The culture shock of India is nowhere near as powerful second time around, it’s that first time in the country which really knocks you sideways and shifts your understanding of what constitutes normality. This being our second time, we knew what to expect. Indian cities are cacophonously noisy, an endlessly discordant soundtrack of car horns, motor bikes, revving engines and raised voices. While the ears get battered, the assault on the eyes comes from the constant chaos and manic overcrowding, but the sense of smell suffers at least as much as any other part, so much so that just inhaling is an occupation fraught with danger. Never mind the putrid…
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In The Footsteps Of Lord Buddha: Bodhgaya-Rajgir-Nalanda
Fittingly, our journey through the life of Buddha starts where it all began, in the revered town of Bodhgaya. It was here that Buddha experienced The Enlightenment, meditated at length to define the principles of a life “free from ignorance, craving and suffering” by attaining a state of nirvana through meditation, and set in motion the path which was to become Buddhism. It was in this modest town that Siddhartha Gautama, Lord Buddha as he was to become, troubled by the direction of his life, sought solace by taking some time out to think things through and rationalise life, the universe and everything. This period of contemplation incorporated abstinence from…
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A Taste Of Delhi, And On To The Buddha Train
“Please wear this for your identification”, he says, handing us a white baseball cap with the Indian Railway Company logo emblazoned on it. “And carry this too”. A bright yellow pouch bag. Classy. Now, we’ve always smirked at people on cruises being shepherded around sites with their colour coded labels or whatever – now here we are setting off on this adventure with uncharacteristic white headgear and an even more uncharacteristic yellow bag, all for the purposes of being in that very type of herd which we thought we’d never be part of. Well, there’s a first time for everything. But before all this, we arrive in India’s capital city…
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Ancient Homes And Shifting Sands
After the stillness of the last few days, today feels a bit more like old school February, the coastal wind bringing a chill factor which makes a nonsense of the official temperature figures, cutting in via the rib cage and exiting the body somewhere just south of the shoulder blades. In any lee-side location, the lukewarm sunshine teases with a kiss: turn a corner and your body braces involuntarily against the cold. The dark afternoon clouds bring tiny hailstones which dance across the ground like mini ping-pong balls, darting into corners where they threaten to drift but then melt away quickly without a trace. It was incredibly cold up by…
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February Days In England
The stillness of a windless February day in England is a stillness unlike any other. Even the most stirring of places becomes a sensory underload, sound deadened by the absence of birdsong, colours diluted like too-thin water paints, no breeze to carry scents, no leaves to decorate the woodland. Gorse splashes its yellow blotches on to the clifftops but carries no fragrance, its delectable musk scent absent yet for another month or two. Gulls’ cries sound forlorn and lonely, the occasional rasp of a jackdaw only serves to accentuate the stillness. If a skylark takes flight, its song is truncated, a burst of panic more than a trill of joy.…
