Abrams Family World Travel

Melbourne: More Random Acts Of Kindness

WE must be doing something right to attract good energy. I mean, to be pitched (literally) by the beach in Australia, living outdoors in the fresh air and have all our camping equipment provided for free by friends!

Throughout our journey around the world we have been the recipients of random acts of kindness. It doesn't matter how small or large, it always blows me away, reminds me there are lovely people in the world and makes me want to reciprocate.

I was chatting one morning after training with the coach at Crossfit Mornington Peninsula (who is from Watford, close to where we used to live in England). She asked what I was up to for the weekend and I explained we were heading back into town (Melbourne), by public transport.

Without batting an eyelid, she and her husband asked if we'd like to borrow their car, not just for the weekend, but for the remainder of our stay in Rosebud!

Of course, I was stunned by the offer and gratefully accepted. And they also found a car seat for Kobra (from another member of the gym) and hooked that in for us as well! Lovely people.

Consequently, our world opened up enormously. Places to visit that were out of reach (for kids and by bicycle) were suddenly on the agenda. 

Then on another day, as I was washing dishes (as usual) by the tap near our tent, a neighbour approached, carrying a can of fuel.

I knew he was leaving any day, so assumed he was coming to say 'goodbye'. But instead he offered us the fuel from his container.

He said he wasn't allowed to take it on the ferry to Tasmania and would have to throw it. But he opted to give it to us instead. Nice man. 

As if that were not enough, another camping resident (and a Bobby on the beat) we became friendly with, offered to help us move back to Melbourne. He said he'd collect all our stuff in his trailer (if we wanted). He checked his work schedule on his iphone and said he was free. "Give me a call," he said. "I'll bring my son and he can play with yours before we go."

Turns out that our plans changed and we told him "thanks, but we're leaving a few days later". He still checked his schedule and said he'd try to come. 

Then our Crossfit coach, who allowed us to borrow her car, offered, without prompting, to drive us back into Melbourne. "No problem," she said. And she did, even sacrificing a massage appointment in the process. 

The generosity didn't end there either. The day we finished camping, Nikki and Tony, our good friends who allowed us to borrow all their equipment, came to help us take it all down. Then they said I could use their car to ferry Jamie and the kids to our airport hotel, probably saving us about $150 in taxi fees.

To cap it all, I received an email from No Worries Curries, a Melbourne company run by a charming husband and wife originally from Goa, who make truly fabulous spice packs. I'd posted some comments on her Facebook page - genuine comments - and she wrote back to me, offering some freebies. 

So when people ask me if I ever regret leaving behind England and a stable job, I always say no for two reasons: 1. the fantastic people we have met along our journey and 2. the great experiences we have had. Some things money cannot buy. 

 

Mornington Peninsula: The Mauritian Vibe Goes A Long Way

I'D seen her walk by with her dog several times. There was something about this lady - the skin colour, thin calves - that made me think: 'She's definitely a Mauritian'.

I can sort of identify Mauritians the way I can British people abroad. Maybe it's a kind of sixth sense.

So one morning this lady I'd seen several times stopped outside our tent, talking to another person. Jamie said to me, "I bet she's Mauritian." I told her, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

As she spoke, I recognised certain pronounciations made only by Mauritians when speaking English. So I moved in and struck up a conversation, asking her outright, "Are you from Mauritius?"

She said yes and added, "I was thinking the same of you. I'd seen you around several times."

The conversation went on, me asking her who she knew that I might know. Sure enough, what with Mauritius being a small island, she knew relations of mine, including my second cousin who lives in Melbourne with her kids. 

We parted after a great chat. I wrote down her name (Joan), because I was going to mention her to my father, to see if he knew/remembered her. She continued her walk along the beach and then, about an hour later, reappeared.

"Hi Claude," she said. "What's your dad's name?" she asked, as though something had been on her mind.  I told her and her face dropped, like she'd been told she had won the lottery. 

"My God! You're kidding." Turns out she knew my dad, uncles, aunts, grandparents etc. In fact, her cousin was married to one of my grandmother's brothers. So, through marriage rather than blood, we are related.

Jamie and I went out for the rest of the day and when we returned I went off to do some work on the computer. As I came back to the tent, there she was - with her German husband. She wanted to introduce us. 

She was as excited about our meeting as we were. She said after our initial meeting she had jumped on the phone the moment she got home and called her sister to tell her all about it. She also called her cousin in Mauritius, who, as it happened, was celebrating there with my uncle, who had turned 70!

Mauritians are fantastic, believe me - so warm and welcoming. I'm lucky to be half-Mauritian. She wanted us to come to dinner. Not only that, she wanted us to come and stay at her house. She wanted to drive us to the airport. She just wanted to help.

She was so disappointed we had met at the end of our Australian trip. But I get the feeling that somewhere, somehow, we will meet again. 

 

Sydney: No Blues In The Mountains

FREQUENTLY we are asked how, financially, we are able to keep travelling the way we do.

It's a perfectly valid question, of course. But the answer is we have to be prudent with our funds and also find creative ways of making our bucks stretch further.

One way has been house-sitting, which we have been doing for nearly three years and involves caring for someone's home (and, usually, pets) while they are away, giving the owners peace of mind that their home is and animals are safe in their absence. In return, we get free accommodation, which is one of our biggest costs. 

We are members on two websites - trustedhousesitters.com and housecarers.com - and apply when we see house-sitting jobs become available where we are travelling or about to travel. We pride ourselves on doing a good job and leaving homes cleaner than when we arrived.

We have come to meet some genuinely amazing, gracious and generous people this way and see and stay in fantastic places from Notting Hill to Brecon to Huddersfield to Kuala Lumpur. Our most recent assignment was in the Blue Mountains, about an hour outside of Sydney. We stayed there - in a beautiful family home - 11 days, looking after a dog, rabbits and a hen.

It's a spectacular part of Australia, hence the advertising promo for the region which reads, "Easy to get to. Impossible to forget". The Blue Mountains is so called because of the density of Eucalyptus trees which emit into the atmosphere droplets of oil which, when combined with dust particles and water vapour, form rays of light that are predominantly blue.

There is so much to see and do in the region that you could live here years and not scratch the surface, so we took the more popular options, starting with the famous Three Sisters near Katoomba, which was about 45 minutes drive from where we stayed in Warrimoo.

The Blue Mountains covers some one million hectares and became a World Heritage site 12 years ago. In it you will see trees that have been around from before mankind and cave systems that have survived 350 million years.

At Echo Point in Katoomba is a large visitor centre and observation area where you can get the best views of The Three Sisters - three rock formations, each over 900m tall, that stand out side by side with a massive open landscape as a backdrop.

Aboriginal folklore says the rocks were three sisters who were turned to stone.

There is a walkway that extends for miles, it seems, around the cliff edge. It is all perfectly safe, spotless and perfectly maintained.

We didn't have time to see everything on our first visit, so returned to take in the Scenic Railway - the world's steepest incline railway - a cableway that takes you back to the top and a Scenic Skyway, another cable ride. You can purchase a ticket for all three with discounted rates for families and if you arrive before 11am.

Zenchai was particularly fascinated by the history of gold mining in the area and the log cabins for workers that have been preserved and some of the other equipment that was used.

Katoomba itself is a quiant little town that has a giant screen cinema (six stories high) showing film of the region's environmental value, but we didn't have time to check this out.

Fresh and organic food-lovers should make a trip to the food co-op on Ha'Penny Lane, just off the main high street, though we also found other stores in the region offering a wide and good selection of fruits, vegetables and such items.

Another destination we visited was Wentworth Falls, which, like in Katoomba, has special views and dramatic trails.

Being in the mountains was cooler than in the city. It felt so much fresher and healthier. We took several local walks, on one occasion - foolishly as it turned out - trying to follow a 5km trail from the house we were sitting, but got lost as the sun started to go down.

Thankfully, we came across a family riding their horses and they kindly offered to drive us most of the way back. Only then did we realise how far we had come - with Zenchai on foot and me carrying Kobra - and that the shortcut back to our 'home' would have involved scrambling through a overgrown bush trail.

As serious snakes and poisonous insects live in the region, the local lady thought better of suggesting we try this and dropped off all of us - dog included - where we could make it back safely, which we did. But, as someone once wrote, "If everything always went to plan there would be no adventures"!

Chiang Mai: The Magical Care Package

TEARS welled up as I opened the box and read the card. I couldn't believe what I was seeing - and feeling. 

Such generosity touched my heart - and deeply!

The kids surrounded me, anxious to take a peak, as though it were Christmas all over again. Zenchai was so excited. 

Slowly, we pulled out gifts - such thoughtful, beautiful and considerate presents - sent to us for no other reason than the desire to share and offer a helping hand. 

Even though we've been fortunate to receive random acts of kindness on our travels, each time it restores my faith in humanity.

So how did this package come about?

Well, a long-time Ozzie yogini friend of mine asked for our address here in Chiang Mai. She said she wanted to send a little something over to us. 

I recieved a little pink card in the post one morning telling me I had something to collect from the main post office (well I assume that is what it said as it was all typed in cryptic Thai).

My first stop before the post office was my weekly yoga class. Interestingly, as I glanced over to look at my alignment in the full-wall mirror, my mind couldn't help but to wander to my grubby yoga attire. Sweat dripping down me, I could only think about how I would need some new threads before I could present a class myself. Then I was whipped back into class by the challenge of another advanced posture.

After class Claude suggested we get lunch, but the surprise was killing me. I wanted to get to the post office to collect our parcel.

Zenchai and Claude trundled through the heat into the post office. They emerged 15 minutes later with a large box. From across the road, Claude was carrying it by those plastic ties they sometimes use for packaging - it looked heavy. Claude placed the box on the front seat and Zenchai said "looks like your friend sent you nappies [diapers]." The box was from a bulk nappy purchase. 

I thought it could be feasible, but then again I knew this friend has just recently had a baby, so I couldn't imagine why she would send us nappies that she would likely be needing.

Anyway, we went to lunch (at one of our favourite places, Beetroot Stories Cafe) and over our delicious meal Zenchai had great fun guessing the contents of the box (bouncy castle, train set, chocolates, cars etc). 

As soon as we got home, I went straight to the scissor drawer and plunked myself down on the floor waiting for Claude to drop the box in front of me. I carefully opened the top to discover a card. I pulled it out and began reading. While I was reading the card, Zenchai was emptying the box with "wows" and "what's this?" 

I read the first few lines of what my friend wrote in the card and couldn't help but to blub. You see, she travelled a lot with her husband before making her family. She has been following our travel adventures, knowing first-hand that travelling is not all sunny skies, beaches or one long holiday. Travelling is wonerderful and exciting, but it doesn't come without its ups and downs, especially when you have small ones in tow. 

Out of the love of her heart (and she has a mighty big one), she and her family put together the kind of care package that they would have loved to have received when they were out on the road exploring this mighty world. 

The box just never seemed to empty! There were books for the grown-ups, cars for Zenchai, a doll for Kobra, organic tea, beautiful soaps, children's puzzle and book, dresses for Kobra, chocolates, eco-friendly water bottles for the kids, natural bug spray and so much more.

But the cream of the crop for me was the addition of some of the most amazing yoga clothes I have ever seen - yoga clothes made of natural fibers, beautiful colours and super flattering fit. My friend is importing and selling these yoga jewels in Australia. In my 12 years of teaching yoga I don't think I have ever had any yoga clothes quite as nice as these!

I was so incredibly overwhelmed - and still am. I feel so grateful, not for just what my friend did, but for having her in my life. 

"You may wonder at this random act of generosity," she wrote. "You may feel a little surprised or even perplexed. But we believe absolutely in giving at every opportunity and we fully recognise the sense of joy in giving and the power it has to uplift us as well as the recipient [you guys]."

If only the world were full of more people like my friend and her family. 

 

 

World Travel: Buffalo Soldier

I CAN'T pinpoint where Zenchai's love for Bob Marley started. But one thing I do know for certain is that it began while we were on the road, possibly in Brazil. Zenchai will be the first to spot the cliched One Love cafes that seem to be dotted all over the map. He will even find all the rasta paraphernalia. 

For whatever reason, the Marley classic Buffalo Soldier is his absolute favourite song and, given the chance, he plays it over and over. 

It was while in Varkala, India that we first realised he knew the words and heard him bellowing them out whilst playing by the pool.

It turned into an education for him when he started asking "what is a Buffalo Soldier?" We had fun guessing, but had to look up the explanation - the name given to black soldiers in the US army by native Americans during the US Civil War. More specifically, Marley wrote about those black soldiers who fought during the Indian Wars after 1866 and symbolised black resistance. 

Here is what Zenchai imagined a Buffalo Soldier to look like:

I'm not sure, but Zenchai could possibly be the first shaven-headed rasta in history.

(Gabriel, if you are reading this maybe you could answer. Actually, I think you have a lot to answer for).

Amritapuri: Hugging Amma

FOR quite some time I have known of Amma, the hugging Indian guru. She visited London a couple times while we were living there, but for one reason or other I never made it to one of her hug-fests. 

While in Varkala her name kept popping up here and there. Her photo was also plastered in many of the places we frequented. I soon found out we were on Amma's home turf. Her ashram was only about 60km from Varkala. 

After a little investigation, we found out we could have our own Amma experience by hopping on the train for a short jaunt and then taking a taxi the remainder of the way.

While waiting on the Varkala platform we met a Russian family also journeying to see Amma. They had been the week before and really felt something in her presence. We decided to join forces and continue the pilgrimage together.

When we arrived at Amma's ashram (getting off at Karunagappalli station) we were fortunate to have the Russian family as they acted as our guides, showing us around the extensive ashram and how things are done in order to get a hug from Amma.

The ashram itself is of a considerable size with several high-rise flats for residents (more being built, too), a swimming pool, post office, ayurvedic shop, clothing shop/tailors, souvenir stall, several food cafes, temple and so on. Some consider it a five-star ashram. No photos are permitted. 

Around 10am a man sitting at a table began giving out international darshan tokens (darshan, or blessing, is what is recieved from Amma when she hugs you.) We had a 2pm slot, which meant that we were to return to the great hall at 1.30pm to start queueing up. 

We mooched around the ashram and, interestingly, bumped into two seperate people from different countries that we had met on other travels. It felt slightly bizarre! Zenchai and Claude had a swim at the ashram pool (men and women must swim at separate times). We ate (disappointingly, there wasn't any indian food on offer for visitors) and before we knew it, it was time to join the line.

Everything around Amma is meticulously orderly. While sitting in the queue you can feel the flurry of her devotees as they move people to and fro. We sat in the snail-paced line, sweating it out in the heavily stagnant air for just under two hours before we recieved our darshan.

As you are moved along the line closer to Amma things become very serious. There are many hushes and stoney faces (and glances of dismay if you happen to have children that make the wrong squeak or movement). Just before we were a hug away from recieving our own family hug, one of Amma's assistants asked me something. With the continual loud sound of the kirtan in the hall, I thought she asked if we were there to recieve darshan. I of course answered yes and thought 'what a silly question'. Claude then turned to me and said "why did you tell her we were Russian?" I laughed at him and his obvious mistaken hearing.

So it was our turn. Zenchai was thrown in. I am not even sure what happened to him, but later he told me he recieved an Amma kiss not a hug. Kobra was then taken and sat on Amma's lap and I was thrust head-first into Amma's bossom. She or her assistant nuzzled my head a few different directions before it was in the optimal hugging position. Then I heard Kobra crying, but I couldn't move my head. She had been taken from Amma by a devotee and Claude was shoved into the other bossom.

Amma said something, but I couldn't focus because all I could think about was Kobra and getting her. I even murmered to Claude something about trying to get her, but it was lost in the tornado of movement and noise. Seconds later, after we were pulled off Amma, I retrieved Kobra and Zenchai and we were quickly ushered to sit down nearish to the hugging station.

Some people report amazing healings after recieivng darshan from Amma, some feel incredible love or burst into tears. I can't say I felt any of those things. I did feel slightly dizzy but that may have been due to all the head-diving and heat.

My experience was tainted by hearing Kobra cry and not being able to attend to her needs. Claude's experience was similiar to mine except he couldn't appreciate the moment as fully because of the rough handling of Zenchai.

Later, once reuntied with our Russian commrades, we swapped notes on our experiences. As it turns out, Claude hadn't misheard Amma's devotee. Amma was told we were Russian and she gave us our blessing - in Russian! 

We asked Zenchai what he thought of the whole experience. He said "I felt really special." So it wasn't a total loss then!

 

 

Kerala: Our Vision Of India

  Bus stop in the Varkala rush hour - where are all the men?

Fresh coconut delivery service

Done the bodyboarding. What's next?

A modest attempt - by Indian standards - of transporting the family

Can you see why they call it Black Beach?

Outside the bizarrely-named Santa Claus resort in Varkala Beach

Kobra can't get enough sand

Bob and I saw this poor, hungry dog in the road. It couldn't use it's back legs, but was standing and not complaining. We got it some food, but have no idea if it survived

A nation's love affair with advertising boards

Cool in the shade on the backwaters in Alleppey

Pepsi delivery bicycle

The roof of a shopping parade - turns out to be a temple

 Someone likes a guitar

And it hardly ever rains - at least this time of year

Just casually making a painting while on the phone - as you do!

Magnificent sunsets over the Arabian Sea

 

Makeshift cricket - Indian style. How's that?

When you need shoes fixed, this is where you go

 Stuffed cat at the fish market

They can't get enough of Kobra

Amazing trees in Fort Cochin

Fort Cochin, India: Who Needs A Washer-Dryer?

WE - or should I say Jamie? - do most, if not all, our washing by hand. I haven't seen a washing machine or dryer since I left the UK.

But that's how it's done in these parts - even for large loads. And if you have ever wondered how hotels etc get their sheets and bedding cleaned, you ought to pay a visit to the local laundrette.

The process is quite simple. Men and women stand in what look like stone booths filled with water and beat the laundry clean - washing, pounding and rinsing several times. It's almost like watching someone having a workout!

The laundry is then hung out to dry in the sun - there are lines and lines of sheets and clothing.

From there the items are folded, awaiting the hot irons, some of which are powered by electricity, but most are fuelled by burning old coconut shells. These black irons each weigh close to 10kgs. The 'ironers', barefoot on planks of thick wood,  stand there all day.

The laundry is then neatly folded and stacked ready for collection. The finished product looked as impressive as anything I had seen in a dry cleaners.

 

Varkala Beach: Sewing Ganesh

I HAVE already mentioned my love for the shopping potential here in India. So many beautiful things. Yes, I am accutely aware of how 'things' aren't pratical or needed for the traveller (or anyone for that matter), but did I mention how gorgoeus 'things' are here?

One little shop in Varkala Beach repeatedly caught my eye. The items were somehow different than the rest.

I struck up a conversation with the owner, Ganesh (below), a young twenty-something from Rajistan. He taught himself how to sew and design clothes when he was 18 to try to overcome the poverty and hard life of farming, his father's struggling profession.

Ganesh began small, hand sewing all his own garments. Obviously talented, his clothing has become quite popular with tourists. He not only has a shop in Varkala Beach, but also one in Gokarna, Goa, which he employs his brother to run. 

Knowing Ganesh's story helped to make me feel less guilty about accruing more things. After all, did I tell you how pretty and affordable they are?

Find Sewing Ganesh at Bholenath Exports, www.bholenathexport.shutterfly.com, where you can order some beauties of your own.

Varkala Beach: The Lesson Man And Food Glorious Food

THE main reason we are here, in Varkala Beach, is because of my great long-time friend Bob Lesson. 

He introduced us, verbally, to this southern Indian town and, from his adventures here, sewed the seeds for us to plant ourselves in India for six weeks as we grow to discover Asia.

Bob first travelled to India back in the 1970s, when he was at school. I love telling the story of how, in his school summer holidays, Bob disappeared for six weeks, hitch-hiking halfway around the world - unbeknown to his parents, who couldn't afford to take him on holiday! Bob went through India, via Afghanistan, barely with any money in his pocket, on his way to Sri Lanka.

It was in India, where he was exposed to great poverty and, ironically, generosity, that Bob was most greatly influenced. 

Naturally, Bob can't get enough of this huge country, the seventh largest in the world, and for three of the last four years he has come to Varkala.

So when we planned our journey to Asia and knew Bob was intending to visit Varkala again, we exchanged notes and decided to rendezvous here. 

Bob's arrival was fairly typical - a knock at the door and a big grin at 6am after his early-morning arrival via Dubai.

Since then it's been fun, games and adventures. Zenchai loves Bob.

Bob introduced us to a wonderful Indian woman called Kumari, who at her home cooks the most fantastic Kerala-style meals (above), including a great banana curry. She has been doing it for over 20 years and doesn't advertise (and has refused to be included in the Lonely Planet). But by word of mouth visitors learn of her cooking and generous spreads (at a cost of R200 [approximately £3] per person). Everyone eats with their hands and on banana leafs instead of plates. She just comes round and dishes out the food until you can eat no more. On one recent occasion she served us 14 different dishes! We were all thoroughly stuffed and Kumari so happy.

She genuinely loves entertaining and pleasing people with her food. And there is always more than enough. We went once for dinner and again for lunch a few days later, when Zenchai, much to his delight, got to ride up front in a tuk-tuk. The food at Kumari's was delicious each time.

If you want to experience 'real' Kerala food, you can contact Kumari by telephone (9387911309). She takes customers for breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner, but needs to know in advance when you are coming. 

While in the food mood, Bob and I signed up for one of Varkala Beach's cooking courses (at the Bamboo Village).

Although the organisation was poor - the price wasn't made clear (we ended up paying R900 [£13] between us) and, when we arrived, we were told to wait in reception while the chef was impatiently waiting for us - it was worth it.

We very nearly didn't go through with it, though. When the chef lectured us about punctuality, Bob took great offence, which is unusual for Bob. He told the chef how he felt and was close to walking out. The chef didn't quite understand it wasn't our fault.

So we stayed - and I'm glad we did. So, too, was Bob. He and I served up some amazing nosh, as good as anything we have eaten in Varkala thus far (except perhaps for Kumari!) He taught us a few things, too, like putting a slice of onion over each ear to prevent tears when cutting it (look closely at pic above). And we adapted all the dishes to be vegan (except for Bob's fish, of course) by substituting coconut milk for cow's milk and vegetable or coconut oil for ghee.

On our menu was Masala Dosa, Vegetable Biriyani, Green Papaya Masala, Fish in Banana Leaf, Onion Pakora and Dhal Curry. It was all made from scratch and with (mostly) natural ingredients - in less than 90 minutes. This included preparation time.

Afterwards, Bob and I sat down and scoffed the lot (about 90 per cent of it) and didn't feel to eat again for the rest of the day. It was that delicious and satisfying. But if you choose to do the course, be sure to invite your friends and family. There is plenty to go around.