My Oscar moment...

So this is it. My last blog post. I promise I won’t do a Gwyneth and cry too much. So after 42 blog posts, 13 months, 10 days and 6 hours, my time as a VSO volunteer is over and I will return back to civilian status on the stroke of midnight.

I can’t believe it’s over. I’ve had the most incredible year that has actually felt like three year’s worth of experiences, fun, learning, adventure and madness that only India can give. So I’d like to use my last blog post to say thank you to everyone who has helped make it such an amazing experience in true Oscar style.

No Oscar winner can do their job without a best supporting actor/actress, so in this category I would firstly like to nominate my family. I’d like to thank my parents who have been their usual wonderful supportive selves. My father, who has been my very own Miss Moneypenny for the last year sorting out all my admin, my mother for sending me wonderful packages, Marmite supplies and newspaper clippings, my sister and brother in law for finally getting married, flying me home for the wedding of the year, wonderful phone chats, treats, ongoing support and all for visiting me.

Next up are my friends, both home and away. I can’t tell you how great it’s been to get snippets of news from home, pictures of little ones, packages of treats, updates on love lives and Skype chats over the course of the year. Thank you for keeping in touch and being there for me. To all the new friends I’ve made over the last year, especially fellow VSO volunteers, thank you for being part of the good times and making me laugh in the bad times. To everyone who I’ve reconnected with through my blog thank you for just saying hello and seeing what I’m up to.

For best actor in the leading role I would like to nominate George, the CEO of my NGO. The thing that makes your VSO placement is the placement itself. I have been extremely lucky to have volunteered at Score Foundation and hope I’ve managed to contribute as much as I’ve got out of the experience. George is a bit of a legend in my mind. Anyone who can run a half marathon in three hours, let alone be visually impaired deserves more than a medal. I’ve really enjoyed working with him over the last year and his drive, energy and determination to help those living life with blindness in India is a true inspiration.

For best visual effects well, the award has to go to India itself. I’ve been lucky enough to travel in thirteen different states over the last year. India really does live up to its tourism tagline and it’s truly incredible. From the majestic Himalayas to the madness that is the metropolis of Delhi itself, India at times is overwhelming in its colour, chaos and lack of consistency but will always be beautiful to me. For best sound editing, well if you’ve been here you will know there is no editing. Every time I hear a honking horn I’m going to think of India.

It may not be an Oscar category but for the best audience award I would like to nominate you, dear reader. Thank you for reading my blog, it started out as a bit of a diary for me so when I looked back I would remember everything, both good and bad. Never did I expect for so many people to read it and to get such lovely comments. Thanks to some rather clever Google tracking technology, I’ve discovered people are reading my blog everywhere from Australia to Zambia, so thank you whoever you are. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about my adventures as much as I’ve enjoyed having and writing about them.

So what’s next? Well tomorrow morning, I’m getting on a jet plane and heading to Sri Lanka. I will be spending Christmas and New Year with my gorgeous cousin at the beach. And then because January is such a cruel month, I’ve decided to fulfil one of my life long ambitions and learn to surf. I’m heading to Indonesia for a month (a girl’s got to mentally and physically prepare herself for a return to London town...). So, full civilian life awaits for February when I get back to Blighty and enjoy a good fry up, glass of wine, decent cup of Yorkshire tea, glass of tap water, roast beef, cheese, high heels, a hairdryer and catching up with everyone. There’s only one more thing to say, don’t forget to honk... if you like curry!

Highlights: Everything. It’s been one of the most; interesting, frustrating, liberating, repressive, challenging, educational, athletic, restful, creative, adventurous and exciting year of my life so far.

It’s been a blast and I’ve had a ball, now where is my bikini..?!

A weekend in the Himalayas with TED...

So, who is this TED I hear you say? An attractive UN peacekeeper in need of heading to the hills? A charming South Asian correspondent researching his next headline? Well, sadly none of the above as TED is actually a website.

Well more than a website. One of the things I’ve most enjoyed about living in India, is having the time to read and learn lots about new stuff. TED has been one of my favourite finds, it’s a website that is devoted to ‘Ideas Worth Spreading’ and showcases riveting talks from remarkable people. Some of the talks are filmed at TEDx events which are held all over the world. Getting a ticket to one of these events is a bit like winning a golden ticket Charlie & The Chocolate Factory style. So, when I saw that tickets were up for grabs for TEDxKumaun, an event focused on development issues in India which was being held in the foothills of the Himalayas, I got pen to paper pronto.

I could think of no better way to spend one of my last weekends in India, in Uttarakhand, a beautiful region that I had visited before in June when I had my weekend in Jilling. To have the opportunity to learn more about development in India with the magical view of mighty peaks like Nanda Devi (7816m), was certainly not something that I will get to do back home in London. The event was over two days and involved 2x eight hour night trains and 2x three hour drive up very winding hills. One of the great things about living in India is that I’m now totally immune to long journeys. So it turned out to be 24 hours of travel for 28 hours at the event but it was so worth it.

The topics discussed ranged from growth, governance, health, education, corruption to food security. As my work has concentrated on disability, it was really interesting to find out more about other key development issues that I knew a bit about. One of my favourite slides had to be from a presentation called ‘The decentralisation of corruption through the corruption of decentralisation’ (try saying that after a few Kingfishers...) which showed the complexity of all the different government schemes to get funding to local communities. The chart was mind boggling and you could easily see how corruption could happen. Especially when I found out that in Uttarakhand out of 45,000 registered NGOs only 15,000 were legit, so that’s why fundraising can be tough in India...

As with all these events, it’s the people that really make it. The whole atmosphere was very informal and it was easy to chat to the speakers. Everyone was bundled up in layers as it was very chilly at 2,500 metres, to the point where we looked like we were at a snowmobile conference. I had some great chats with a range of people; some had travelled all the way as far as Bombay and Chennai to be there. Everyone had diverse backgrounds and it was great to meet other foreigners who were in India doing some really interesting work. One of my favourite chats had to be with Anne, a spritely septuagenarian who had lived in the area for a while. She used to work in advertising in Delhi in the ‘70s and it was really interesting to hear her stories about dealing with clients in such a different culture.

As with any Indian event, the food was fantastic. Grown in such beautiful surroundings the vegetables were extra tasty and it was nice to get a final fill of curry whilst sitting around a fire chatting away. The hotel I was staying in had amazing views but had to be one of the coldest places I had ever stayed. Despite donning three layers, a hat, a sleeping bag and two duvets, when I lay in bed I could still see my breath in the air. But mountain air always sends you off to sleep and it was worth some shivering for the early morning view of the rose tinged glow on the Himalayas that I woke up to.

We got back to Delhi at 4.30am this morning, in the rickshaw home cruising on the empty streets lit up by fires and swaddled figures trying to keep warm, the weekend seemed very surreal. It was a nice feeling to get home, shed a layer of fleece and jump into bed for a few hours kip before work. So, an average Indian weekend? An above average one, thanks to TED.

Highlights: being a loser and a winner – with the festive season in flow party season has arrived, last weekend it was off to the Australian Embassy for their 80s fancy dress quiz, we may have got the boobie prize in the quiz but we won first prize for our amazing Flashdance outfits – a proud moment, no pleasure without pain –in preparation for my travels it was off to the Dr for jabs, what I thought may only be one small injection turned out to be five (ouch!) but worth it for some tropical time, public transport – my new commute to work involves going on the metro which I have to say is very enjoyable in the ladies only carriage (a semi stare free environment) and some sort of training for getting on the tube again I guess, comfort food eating time – it’s so cold it’s time to keep warm through the power of eating, what’s not to love about this time of year..?

Incredible India – by plane, train, automobile and running shoes...

No pain, no gain they say and I definitely have to agree with that, especially on Sunday when I was puffing my way through 21km of pain, AKA the Delhi Half Marathon. Over the last three weeks, my training schedule had become a bit more exotic, as I got the chance to run across India in the states of Tamil Nadu, Karnataka and Rajasthan courtesy of my lovely family who came out to visit me and whisked me away on a very jolly holiday...

I think the one thing that all volunteers miss the most is family and friends. The longer you live in a developing country as a volunteer the harder it gets. I’ve certainly found the last few months tougher and reached what I like to call my ISP (India Saturation Point). I think it’s quite natural when you only have a few more months to go and civilisation awaits (decent coffee, high heels, a soft bed, wine, a good hug and cheese) you start to become more irritated with the rhythms of life that can be India on some days (honking, no rules when it comes to anything, groping, staring and harassment) so I was greatly looking forward to seeing my family, showing them around my home for over a year and getting a good hug or two.

Adventure seems to be in our DNA and we had an ambitious itinerary starting in South India ending back in Delhi. We must have travelled over 4,000 miles by various mode of transport over the three weeks, but I have to say it was one of the most relaxing holidays I have been on. It certainly was an upgrade in travel style from the usual volunteer mode (let’s just say one night we stayed somewhere there was a bed made of marshmallow, a bath and a roaring fire in my room... heaven!). In the South the highlights were Ooty a picturesque hill station (cold enough to wear jumpers and I got to run on a treadmill as the early morning mist rose off the tea plantations) and Hampi, stunning fourteenth century ruins situated in lush plantations which could have easily been the set of the next Indiana Jones film.

By two overnight trains and a plane we got back to North India and to Rajasthan which was truly magical. We firstly stayed in Udaipur in a picturesque hotel looking over the lake which was the film set of Octopussy and had lost none of its Bond charm. I had some very memorable runs in Rajasthan, the peak of my training was a 1hr 55min run which I was not looking forward to. But as I headed off at 6.30am from a remote village in Rajasthan (and from the comfort of a bed made of Angel Delight in a very nice boutique hotel) to run on sandy tracks around a lake as the sun rose, the pain seemed worth it. When you are lucky enough to run with the soundtrack of the tweets of the three Ps of the bird world (parakeets, peacocks and pigeons of course) and cause most of the male members of the local village to nearly fall of their motorbikes in shock of seeing a puffing blondie saying ‘namaste’ you can’t help but fall in love with India again.

We then headed into the desert and even did a camel trek. Rajasthan is truly enchanting. With palaces, fortresses and legends of princely maharajahs worthy of a fairy tale book, you see a side of India that is straight from a Merchant Ivory film. By the time we reached Jaipur and had reached out TSP (Temple Saturation Point) we were joined by my sister and brother-in-law who had just spent their honeymoon in Bhutan. It was lovely to get more hugs and catch up with them both. We ended the trip with a dawn visit to the Taj Mahal which was definitely worth the 5.30am wake up call.

As everyone headed to the airport early Sunday morning to return back to London, I was shivering like a whippet in a hail storm as we reached the marathon start line at 6.45am. Delhi has suddenly got cold, so I had an incentive to keep running. But as soon as the sun came out it was baking, 40 minutes into the marathon when the lithe elite runners were 6km from the end and passing me in the opposite direction I realised the heat was not going to help. My only aim was to run the whole thing, which I managed to do but it got tough after 12km. I don’t know how anyone does a full marathon, I have complete respect for anyone who is brave enough to give it a go. But after 2hrs 30mins I made it across the finish line, slightly delirious and relieved it was all over. We rewarded ourselves with a slap up afternoon tea at the posh Imperial Hotel and despite the fact I’m still walking like a robot and stairs feel like climbing Everest it was all worth it.

Highlights: it’s a family affair – a big thank you to my parents in particular, for coming out to visit me, treating me to an amazing holiday and it was so nice to all catch up together (thanks also for sharing your final bit of honeymoon with me sis!) and to have the chance to show everyone around India, surviving an earthquake – it was only 4.9 on the Richter scale but it rocked and rumbled in Rajasthan one night and has to be one of the weirdest ways to wake up at 4am, money, money, money – I am truly chuffed at the amount we all raised for the marathon of just over Rs10 lakhs (that Rs 1 million!) and that we beat last year’s total by 100%, I think I am now officially a true fundraiser, a slap up tea and a sighting of Bob – it’s not often you get to have a guilt free afternoon tea post completing a half marathon, nor is it that often when the conversation randomly turns to celebrities and Bob Geldof get’s a mention that 5 mins later Sir Bob walks into the hotel to be greeted by three volunteers laughing like hyenas, I blame all that sugar..!

How to be a domestic goddess VSO style...

With just over a month until I have to move out of my flat and my placement comes to an end in December, I’ve started thinking about the everyday things in my life that are essential features of domestic living as a volunteer. Below are my three top tips for being a domestic goddess VSO style...

#1 Find your inner MacGyver
Living on a budget and in the developing world really makes you good at the ‘make do and mend’ philosophy of life. In India, you don’t need much to live on and I’ve definitely enjoyed the challenge of spending a year without lots of stuff and home comforts. My proudest, most practical and most used MacGyver creation has to be my ‘home entertainment unit’. My laptop is; my office, TV and telephone back home for Skype chats so it gets used a lot every day. With the dust and heat of Delhi the fan was starting to go into overdrive. So for a bargain Rs200 I got a laptop fan and thanks to a wonderful care package from my sister, recycled the box into my home entertainment unit. My favourite MacGyver trick around our flat is courtesy of my flatmate who has created an art installation out of our sofa worthy of the Turner prize. Having bought our furniture second hand, we knew we had to find a cheap and easy way to fix the crack in the middle, so it wasn’t like a game of Buckaroo every time you sat down. I think the installation of a brick to prop it up adds a modern art chic worthy of a Tracey Emin installation any day.

#2 Plastic is your friend
I don’t think I have ever owned or used so many plastic items in my life. We eat off plastic plates and everyone I know has a bucket and jug in their shower. The bucket is perfect for washing clothes, the jug is the only way to wash your hair as Indian showers sadly lack power and are as effective as an Evian facial spritzer. Everyone brings their own lunch into work in a tiffin and I’ve had several compliments on my Tupperware (double side clips don’t you know). And then there are plastic chairs. Seriously they are everywhere and I swear my backside is more toned on the account of not sitting on soft furnishings for the last year. Everyone has them in their house or in every NGO office. Here’s a little insider tip, having been stuck in a few three hour meetings the trick is to definitely get one with arm rests to enable you to levitate for a few seconds using your arms, in order to regain circulation for minimal numbing of buttocks.

#3 Cook up a storm with only a pan
One of the hardest challenges I knew VSO was going to bring, was not having an oven or Waitrose down the road. Food as you may know is very important to me, so the thought of not being able to bake some brownies, whip up a lasagne or create a quiche for a year was going to be tough. Standard VSO issue is only a two ring gas hob so your weapon of choice is only a frying pan or saucepan. My culinary skills have had to be adapted. Let’s just say I won’t be cooking stir fry, chilli, curry or omelettes for a while when I get home. But, I’ve rediscovered recipes from my childhood and student days. Can’t bake brownies? It’s time for Mars Bar crispie cakes. Dreaming of creamy linguine with scallops? Well tuna, sweetcorn and mayonnaise pasta is nearly the perfect substitute.


Highlights: tourist time – I’m using my last few weekends in Delhi to see all the sights I haven’t got to yet, this weekend I did Humayun’s Tomb a stunning world heritage site (accompanied with a large mango kulfi, India’s most delicious ice cream), beauty on a budget – I’m really going to miss the Rs200 (£2.77) pedicures in my local salon, getting a big hug from home – I have friends from London arriving on Friday so enjoying plotting a gourmet weekend in Delhi with them and most excitingly, my family arrive next week so I’m a really, really excited about spending some time with the Mellor Massive and getting a big hug off them all, breaking the 60 minute mark – I am now running for over an hour a go and no longer sound like an elephant with emphysema or look like I’ve had a beetroot facial. If you need a reason to donate to my NGO for the marathon which you can do so here, it’s about 34°c when I run at 6.30am so I’m truly sweating for the cause!

To boycott or not to boycott...

So finally they are here. The Commonwealth Games (CWGs) have landed with all their opening ceremony pomp along with the scandals of snakes in stadiums, collapsed ceilings and bridges, paw prints on athletes beds and of course tales of corruption.

I’ve been amazed at the amount of coverage in overseas press and comparison with organising a big Indian wedding, chaos until the last minute and then it all comes together. Well, having lived here for the last 11 months I’ve witnessed more chaos than ceremony and I’m not quite convinced Delhi has reached its desired world class city status or that everything was going to be ready in time, but it is.

One of the reasons I was keen to take a VSO placement in India was to have the experience of living in a BRIC developing country that is on its way to developed status. The CWGs have been hailed as the event that would reinforce that India is on track for developed nation status, hand in hand with its 7.4% economic growth in 2009-10. Surely with all this growth, poverty must be reducing? Well, India ranked 67 out of 84 countries for having alarming scales of hunger in the 2010 Global Hunger Index, so guess not. Urban poverty is increasing at a disturbing rate, so living in Delhi you see poverty against the backdrop of contrast, slums next to shopping malls and migrant workers including female labourers building the so called world class facilities for the CWGs whilst their children play on the side of the road.

In a country where out of a population of 1.2 billion, 830 million Indians earn less that Rs20 (28p) a day, is it right that I attend, support and enjoy an event that has cost India $6 billion when I’m here to do my bit towards fighting global poverty?

I personally don’t agree with any country spending billions on a one off sporting event when there is no investment in sport at a grass roots level, in particular at schools. Let alone when that money could be used on basic education, infrastructure, healthcare or stop people going to bed hungry at night. There are more poor people in eight Indian states than in the 26 poorest African countries combined. Delhi has amongst the lowest occurrences of poverty in India, while at the other extreme, 81% of the state of Bihar’s population is poor. It’s ironic that many of the 100,000 labourers who worked for unfair wages to prepare Delhi for the CWGs were from Bihar.

There are two sides to every story and Delhites will benefit from the CWGs even if the rest of India won’t. The opening of the metro has definitely made my life easier. I can now spend Rs12 on a journey rather than Rs60 in a rickshaw. The city is a lot quieter as most people have escaped and the alleged thousands of tourists have not arrived so the traffic is marginally better. The whole place is on lockdown this Thursday for the closing ceremony so we all get a day off work. But there also have been disruption and disease. Schools have been shut, shops and markets are closed and there has been a mass outbreak of dengue as the construction sites have been a fertile breeding ground for mosquitoes. Last week I was with a fellow volunteer when she got admitted to hospital with dengue and sitting in the waiting room with a lot of other sick people I doubt anyone would have got enthusiastic about the CWGs.

So, for the first time in my life I’m officially boycotting something. I roar in the face of Shera the mascot, who according to the official CWGs website is, “a ‘large-hearted gentleman’ who loves making friends and enthusing people to ‘come out and play’”. Well sorry Shera, I love your country but this volunteer isn’t going to come out and play.

Highlights – being dazzled by bureaucracy – from banks to hospitals I’ve seen it all now and last week at a face/off with a bank teller whilst trying to explain to her what the principles of customer service are I got firmly told “well Madame, that’s just the way we do things in India”, the Axis of Evil Supper Club tour continues – Delhi just has the best restaurants, we tried a good Iraqi the other day but it was out trumped by an amazing Afghani (melt in the mouth meat including beef), next on the list to try is Iranian food and can’t wait, being a fundraiser – it has to be No. 1 for job satisfaction when the money finally comes in, my weeks started by going to pick up a fat cheque from a new donor and thanks to them my NGO can employ two new people to help with research and advocacy, keeping running – well I’m up to week 10 in my training, with five more to go I’m hoping I avoid any mosquito based diseases or injuries to make it to the start line.

Goats, golden temples & gourmet treats...

So how was your weekend? Pretty average? I’m not too sure what an average weekend in Delhi or being a VSO volunteer actually consists of or, what I thought it would consist of when I was in London. If you had said to me, “your Friday night, which you will look forward to all week, is going to involve a BBQ goat” I don’t think I would have believed you...

But that’s where my weekend started and there was much excitement about the goat. So for all those who know me or have read a few blog entries you will know how important food is. Being a volunteer in India is great if you love curry, which I truly do, but I had perhaps not been prepared to eat a mainly vegetarian diet. Being veggie most of the week has not been too much of a problem but sometimes I get carnivorous cravings. When we first arrived in India we did some touristy things which involved a visit to Old Delhi and Karim’s restaurant. It’s a traditional Muslim restaurant which serves great food and mainly ‘non-veg’ dishes. Its piece de resistance is a BBQ goat (stuffed with biryani) that feeds twelve people quite happily. So as one of our fellow volunteers was leaving the fold we decided to go out for a meat feast to say goodbye.

And my, was the goat good. We feasted away and it was the perfect start to a weekend which revolved around more delicious food. So Saturday morning I was up early on a six hour train to Amritsar for a weekend away with a friend. Amritsar has been on my list of places to visit for a while. It has two main attractions the famous Sikh Golden Temple and the highly entertaining border ceremony where India and Pakistan have a very engaging face/off to much cheering and jingoism. We arrived just after lunch in time to get a quick plate of kulcha channa. This is a traditional Punjabi delicious dish of very flaky, spiced bread that is generously slathered in butter which you dip into chick pea curry. My, it was yummy. We then jumped in a taxi to go to the border ceremony an hour’s drive away. The road to the border was probably the smoothest I had ever been on in India. We worked out the reason for its lack of potholes was that it needed to be in tip-top condition to send in the tanks if things got a bit nasty with Pakistan. Green fields flanked the road and it was nice to see more green than rubbish/construction work for a change.

We arrived at the border to what looked to be the opening of a carnival. The route was thronged with popcorn sellers, groups of excited school children were milling with families and everyone was rushing to get a prime position in the stadium seating that lined the border gate. Due to our tourist status we got a good spot near the front. The atmosphere was incredible. It was like being at the final of X-Factor. Bollywood hits were blasted out, whilst school children ran up to the border gate with oversized Indian flags, then gangs of kids got up and danced school disco style as the compeer cheered on the crowd. Soldiers in their fancy hats (adorned with napkins and a lot of starch it seemed) had whistles to herd the crowd into some submission but were very jovial. What was particularly bizarre was that the same thing was being replicated on the other side of the gate in Pakistan in a slightly tamer form.

I felt sorry for the Pakistani side at first. There was less of a crowd, the women were separated from the men and sat high up in the stand. Their Bollywood tunes weren’t as tuneful. It was all a bit more sedate and there were fewer tourists too. Then the ceremonial pomp started. It involved a soldier from each side power walking up to the gate that had been opened, saluting and high kicking to much shouting. It was straight out of Monty Python but the crowd on both sides loved it and continued to cheer through the whole hour. The flags on both sides were lowered as the sunset and as we left it was like leaving the end of a rock concert. We got back to Amritsar tired and delighted to see our guesthouse had an excellent menu so we ordered cheese toasties and finger chips (that would be chips) and sat in bed watching particularly trashy American TV. With no access to TV and cheese being a luxury item it was my idea of a perfect Saturday night in.

The next day we got up early to visit the Golden Temple which was stunning. We wondered around watching young Sikh boys and old men have a dip and prayer in the waters surrounding the temple. I don’t think I’d ever seen more Indian men in their pants in my life. We sampled the free food cross legged in the dining room, the temple serves food to up to 80,000 meals a day and there was an impressive washing up chain gain. Then we of course tracked down a renowned kulcha channa road side stand for more eating. After a bit of shopping and a good piece of chocolate cake it was time to get back on the train and we headed home back to Delhi after a more than above average weekend.

Highlights - traffic lights – my pedestrian woes seem to be easing as thanks to the CWGs my six lane highway of death that I have to cross everyday now has traffic lights, jumping red lights are fairly normal in India but now I have an extra 0.007 seconds to cross the road, hello Mr Sunshine – the monsoon is finally over, blue skies and sunshine are here to stay so here’s to no more running in the rain. Work – with only a few months to go it’s really rewarding to see funding coming in and our marathon campaign pulling in lots of support.

“Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me...

...to be a backing dancer in the next Five Star pop video as I think they are fab.” Well that’s the letter I meant to get around to writing to Sir Jimmy Saville back in 1985 when I was aged 7 years but never did. So I was more than delighted when back in July I wrote to someone called Jimmy and he fixed it for me to go to Hong Kong.

Why Hong Kong I hear you say? This time around was my plea to star in the next Jackie Chan film after my recent Bollywood debut? Sadly no, it’s actually more to do with life post VSO. So with only a few months to go my thoughts have naturally been on what’s next? I sadly cannot sustain my volunteer lifestyle and the honourable world of employment beckons once again. So my cunning plan is to go into CSR so I can still be part of the development world but use my corporate skills for the power of good. For all those not hot on their acronyms, CSR is Corporate Social Responsibility, nothing to do with CSI Miami as someone asked me the other day.

Whilst researching the world of sustainability and CSR in July, I noticed there was a big CSR Asia Summit being held in Hong Kong which looked really interesting. So using my new fundraising skills of ‘you don’t ask, you don’t get’ I applied for a scholarship to attend and won. All I had to do was cover my flight and accommodation costs. So as VSO is all about flexibility and adaptability, I flexed my credit card for the flight and got in touch with some wonderful friends who had another wonderful friend who lived in Hong Kong to request the use of his sofa for a few nights.

To say I was more than excited about going would be an understatement. A few weeks ago I think I had reached a natural stage in the VSO lifecycle where, with only a few months to go I had reached my saturation point of India. If I heard one more Bollywood ringtone or honking horn it was going to get nasty. So civil society beckoned, and my how life is civil in Hong Kong. Firstly it’s the easiest place to get around. You can go on public transport and not get groped. Everything is clean, from the money to the pavements, I felt like I had been transported to the future. I could wear a dress in daylight, high heels, use my credit card to buy a train ticket, not eat curry for lunch and most importantly drink wine. The sofa I was supposed to be surfing on turned into a luxury bedroom with my own bathroom where the bed was made of marshmallow. I don’t think I have slept that well in 10 months. That might also have something to do with the free drinks reception on the first night.

The conference was very interesting. I had really lucked out to get a place as it was sold out and there were 400 people attending. It was really well organised and I met a lot of lovely people so it was easy to network. I had my first cultural induction to the business world in Asia outside of India when I realised I need to bow slightly and present my business card with both hands. I learnt lots about sustainability (CSR is so last year darling) and particularly enjoyed the talks on how business can get involved with solving the Millennium Development Goals, providing support in disaster preparedness and sustainable value chains - did you know that P&G recycle old shampoo bottles into plastic tiles? Amazing.

The conference was for two days and I had a day either side to explore Hong Kong. My mission was to eat everything and anything but curry. By the first morning I had tracked down Pret A Manger and had my very own When Harry Met Sally diner moment over a latte and ham, cheese and tomato croissant. I had the most amazing dim sum, sushi, beef, prawns and lots of delicious glasses of wine. I explored the city on foot, ferry, tram, metro and bus. My gracious host took me out to dinner and to a night at the famous Happy Valle races so I got to experience life as a local. My favourite area had to be Hollywood Road which is the old antiques quarter, with incense full temples, quite local parks with coy carp filled ponds and some great local graffiti.

So at the end of my four days, it was with a slightly heavy heart and full belly that I boarded my Kingfisher flight back to Delhi. But, I was invigorated by the whole trip, I arrived back to the sparkly new International terminal just opened in time for the Commonwealth Games and all was well. The smell and heat of India hits you within seconds when you arrive, I was comforted by the sound of honking as I walked to my taxi and thought that curry for dinner would be a nice change...

Highlights – seeing another side of Asia – learning about life for NGOs in China, Indonesia and Malayasia it was great to understand more about the region beyond India, being part of the VSO mafia – sitting down for lunch on the first day next to a chap, asking him what he did to find out he worked for VSO in Beijing it’s a small world, networking – until 4am, hitting the dance floor in high heels with fellow CSR conference buddies the next day I could hardly walk but all for the cause, running in the rain – the monsoon lingers so marathon training carries on and it’s actually really lovely to feel cool for a change after pounding the park, listening to 100 percussionists – I attended a great event on Saturday to raise awareness of the Millennium Development Goals it was called ‘Stand up and make some noise’ and 100 percussionists from all over India played in the historic ruins of Purina Quila at sunset which was breathtaking.

An ode to rickshaws...

Over the past few weeks I’ve been spending more time than usual riding around in the back of auto rickshaws. It’s been somewhat painful as it’s been all in the quest of trying to get my visa extended which it seems is the Holy Grail of Indian bureaucracy. On my journey my file has been lost and found due to a case of mistaken identity, causing me to gain and loose a Japanese husband on the way (careless I know). But I have completed my quest, after nine visits and between various trips to ministries with offerings of paperwork, endless queuing, photocopying and enjoying the spectacle of other foreigners go into meltdown (tears and tantrums never work in the face of an Indian bureaucrat especially before lunch time) I’ve had time to ponder...

With my time here heading into its last few months I’ve started to think about those things that have become every day and will no longer be a feature of my life back in London. Renewing your visa is definitely one of the not so glamorous sides of living in a developing country that I won’t miss neither is having to travel around in rickshaws. They are fairly safe and cheap (but still eat into your volunteer budget if you do more than one journey a day in Delhi) and surprisingly very green as they all run on compressed natural gas (CNG). But it still does not draw attention from the fact that each journey is somewhat traumatic, involves negotiations worthy of a UN peacekeeper and you are effectively riding around in a dodgem / hairdryer. And with hair like mine, I always seem to look like Bonnie Tyler having had a cat fight with a can of hairspray when I gracefully step out at my destination.

The trauma begins with trying to flag one down. Rickshaw drivers are not of the London cabbie school of customer service. They normally refuse to take you to places and drive off. Or they won’t have a clue where your destination is so you have to tell them the way. That can be pretty hard as Delhi is not the easiest city to get around as the whole place is covered in dust and rubble due to the Commonwealth Games (CWGs). You sometimes feel like you are a malfunctioning Sat Nav randomly trying to look for landmarks of familiar construction sites to find the way home.

Before you even get into a rickshaw serious negotiation needs to be made. The natural assumption is ‘blondie = rich’ therefore a ‘special’ price is given. So every day you have to barter hard which is painful if you are: a) running late b) its raining c) 6 rickshaw drivers have refused to take you so far d) just not in the mood for negotiating. Rickshaws have a meter but it rarely gets used. Until recently, as thanks to the alleged flood of tourists that will be turning up for the CWGs, rickshaw drivers have been forced to use their meters and a new rate card.

This meant happy days, hassle free travel for a while but the novelty ran off after Week 2 and most rickshaw wallah’s tend not to use it. They have conveniently slipped back to the old ‘meter broken’ excuse so it’s time to barter hard. And my, do rickshaw drivers have some valid reasons for charging a little bit extra. The usual one is ‘the traffic is bad’, well yes I can’t deny that living in a city of 16 million but it’s bad everyday and isn’t my problem. Or my favourite was last week when I got told the fare would be double ‘due to the rain’ when I responded saying ‘the rain is God’s fault not mine so charge him double’ I at least got a wry smile, head nod for get in and pay what you want. The monsoon has added a whole new twist on travel, if you are lucky enough to flag one down you then have to be prepared for being exposed to the elements, particularly large 4x4s who plough through puddles at high speed easily causing a tsunami onto your rickshaw and giving you a good soaking.

But they are not all bad, sometimes you get a great driver you can practice your poor Hindi on, they often like to sing slightly tuneless Bollywood hits throughout your journey providing some entertainment from the traffic, they know how to get rid of beggars and hawkers at traffic lights, can drive like demons when you are running late which makes it sort of feel like you’ve got AC and are definitely an unique part of India you can never forget...

Highlights: making it home on time – today is the first time in a few weeks I’ve just got back before the heavens opened, I’m writing this in the dark because the thunderstorm has caused another power cut but least I’m dry, breaking into my flat –the rain also does stealth damage it seems, as when I returned home in the wee hours merry from a night out and failed open the rusty lock on our front gate after 10mins of trying I suddenly turned a bit Yuri Geller and had bent my key in the lock. I knew that a 3am wakeup call was not going to be an option to my landlord so the only way was to get up and over the 8ft gate, luckily my mountaineering skills had been honed in Ladakh so it was a fairly painless ascent and descent, Sunday brunch bake off – it just gets to that point every few months where you’ve just had enough of curry and need a taste of home so we all piled over to another volunteers for a non-masala meal with delicacies such as tarte au citron and my contribution of Mars Bar crispie cakes seem to go down a treat, an egg upgrade – this may sound quite tragic but this week I taught myself how to make poached eggs (god bless the internet for teaching you everything) as eggs are my main source of protein in a mainly veg diet, a change from scrambled eggs and egg mayonnaise sandwiches after 10 months is so welcome, I now just need to master hollandaise - oh for eggs Benedict...!

Let's get physical...

as Olivia Newton-John once said, or try to if you live in Delhi and are training for a half marathon...

For those who know me, don’t laugh and yes it is true, I am indeed training for a half marathon. The Delhi Half Marathon is a big fixture in our fundraising calendar so on 21st November I will be (attempting to) run 21km to help raise funds for my NGO, Score Foundation.

Firstly, I wish I ‘glowed’ as elegantly as Olivia, the problem with running in India and the fact it’s 36°c by 7am, is that you end up looking like you’ve had a beetroot facial whilst being wrapped in clingfilm in a sauna. It’s not helped by the fact you need to still be covered up whilst you are exercising here. Tracky bums and a baggy t-shirt are fine, but shorts and a vest top are a no, unless you are male. I’m very jealous of a Sikh gentleman who power walks around my local park in (slightly too tight) shorts and I enviable stare at his bare legs. But I should not complain at least I can go jogging outside, many female volunteers in more rural areas have no options for exercising al fresco. The local gyms are male only so you can only exercise at home, so one resourceful friend has created her own workout regime A-Team style with bricks and plastic bags.

Running on the road is a complete no unless you are on a death wish, or are doing a Krypton Factor style regime that involves hurdling cows and dodging street dogs so you need to find a local park. Delhi is actually a lot greener than you would think so there are quite a few options near us. Our local park (a rectangle of grass in a residential area) has a good ‘track’ (a concrete path about 3ft wide) around; some grass where cricket is always played, a concrete badminton court, a playground which seems to be a crèche for local street children and construction workers , random malnourished topiary statutes of elephants and Lord Ganesh.

Without generalising too much, on average Indian’s don’t exercise that much. You very rarely see people jogging but power walking is a big thing. Power walkers tend to be middle aged, gather in gangs and combine walking and chatting together. It’s more of an exertive stroll and they tend to walk in threes which makes it particularly hard to overtake when you are trying to embrace your inner Paula Radcliffe.

A nation of non exercise lovers is not particularly helpful when you are trying to raise money for a marathon, particularly when it comes to recruiting people to run for us. We had a group of management consultants in the office the other day for a CSR ‘make a difference day’, I thought this was going to be rich pickings and I would easily sign a few runners up. As I stood up to pitch I looked around the room and noticed most of the men (young and old) were sporting rather rotund ‘ghee guts’. So my request of “who loves running?” and “who loves going to the gym?” was warmly greeted with silence. I think I’m going to have to rethink my strategy to get anyone to sign up and Just Do It...

Highlights: rain, rain, rain – you have to love the monsoon when you are cosy at home, munching on peanut butter toast and another storm rolls in but having now been caught in a full deluge trying to cross a knee length brown river (the road) to get to work the novelty is wearing off – gone are the days where your washing dried in an hour and the emo goth panda eye look is really not my style, new friends and Sunday brunches – smoked salmon, white wine spritzers and great conversation the perfect way to end the weekend, having time to read – due to my marathon regime I’m getting up earlier and have quality book time over a cup of tea before I go to work, work food approval – so finally I decided to make my own Indian food and bought some homemade aloo gobi into work for all to share, many said no to trying some as allegedly my vegetables were ‘too crunchy’ but I got the seal of approval from one of my colleagues whose delicious South Indian food I always get to eat so that’s good enough for me.

Boys, boys, boys...

...as Sabrina once sang, she was looking for a good time but in India they are just looking and everywhere it seems.

So I might sound a little paranoid but being stared at and being surrounded by men has become an everyday part of living in India. Let’s start with the facts, it’s been estimated (well Wikipedia reckons) that at birth there are 1.21 boys for every girl so the statistics back me up.

My commute to work is the start of my daily stare off. I firstly go past a gang of mobile ice cream vendors. Their wheelie kiosks are being filled by the time I pass and many are chopping up large blocks of ice or having a wash in their y-fronts or lungis. It probably doesn’t help that most of my route to work follows a construction site for the new Metro and the Commonwealth Games. I firstly reach Construction Corner where there’s a regular posse of workmen having a good look and hanging around looking like they are auditioning for a Village People video. I then go down Grease Alley which is a strip of mechanics, so ignoring the stares I pretend I’m Sandy from Grease and they’re the T-Birds about to burst into song (but sadly I’m yet to hear a ‘wallah, wallah-uh’). Some women do stare, but it’s easy to ‘charm and disarm’ with a smile. The cycle rickshaw wallahs can take staring to a whole new level which involves driving up to within 5mm of you and shouting ‘Rickshaw madam’ whilst delightfully blocking your path and causing me to give a death stare back.

So why the staring? Am I provocatively dressed or just the hottest thing in town? Hot, yes , but in a slightly sweaty betty sense from the monsoon humidity. I dress in salwaar kameez, hide behind my shades but guess it may just be my pale skin and the fact a blondie is walking rather than being driven around in an air conditioned pod. Some days I’m fine with it. I like to think I’m Claudia Schiffer and I must be having a good hair day despite the 90% humidity. Other days, it can make you go into meltdown. Being stuck in traffic causes the maximum staring as trying to hide out in the back of rickshaw from prying eyes in the terrible traffic and endless jams is pretty hard. I did have a Travis Bickle, Taxi Driver, moment the other day. I was most proud when I translated ‘you starin’ at me’ by lamely shouting out ‘Kya?’ (“what” in Hindi) which caused much merriment to the five businessman crammed into the back of a Tata Nano.

It’s best not to get stressed about it. So a few weeks I decided to retreat from the streets and treat myself to a pedicure. The beauty parlour, the perfect sanctuary for females where boys are firmly banished and a girl can just relax. Well not in India it seems. The pedicure team were all male and for Rs200 a girl can’t really complain. I tried to enjoy the calf massage but it seemed to be wrong that so many men were applying lotions and potions and pampering away. It’s particularly wrong when you see women doing heavy construction work on the side of the road daily. But India never makes sense, with such a large amount of human capital there’s always jobs for the boys...

Highlights: good food + great company – having returned from my travels and got to taste exotic delicacies (e.g. not eat curry everyday) my palette is having to adapt back to the spicy side of life so it was a real treat to go on a gastro tour of Delhi last week when some other volunteers came to town, pizza, sushi, real coffee, fish and chips- just heaven, when it rains it pours – being woken up by a clap of thunder and full monsoon storm last weekend, grey moody skies and water up to your knees on the streets it was cold enough to even have a hot shower, getting my ‘road legs’ back – I’ve had to retrain myself in the art of crossing road e.g. causing traffic to stop to have a chance of getting anywhere, so I was particularly pleased when I had my very own Moses/parting of the Red Sea moment and got 4 lanes of traffic to stop due to the power of sticking out my left arm and defiantly marching across the road - you have to love a bit of pedestrian power, free drinks + great company – it doesn’t take much to please a volunteer but getting a golden ticket to a book launch at the five star Taj Mahal hotel on Friday night made my week, great wine (chilled Pinot Grigio) and even greater company, the perfect way to start the weekend...

The adventures of the Princess of Leh, at 6123m...

So finally it was holiday time. I know many people think that by working abroad every day is holiday time, but believe me in between fighting global poverty and living in Delhi a girl needs a break...

So it was off to Leh which is in Ladakh and is an autonomous area of Jammu & Kashmir. It’s known as ‘Little Tibet’ and is nestled between the Himalayas and Karakorum at 3500m which takes your breath away – literally. My plan was to go there for 12 days to spend time with two friends, the first at a music festival and the second who was visiting on a group sustainable eco holiday and to do a bit of trekking. Of course this being India, it did not quite go according to plan.

The music festival was cancelled a few days before I left due to local protest and fear that a mass influx of revellers (4000) would corrupt the local youth. I was a little peeved, particularly as I was looking forward to spending time with my friends I was going with, but on arriving in Leh I understood why the festival had been called off. The flight was slightly exhilarating as it took two goes to land due to the wind and obstacles such as snowy peaks and monasteries clinging onto cliffs, all within close proximity of the runway. I took a taxi to the guest house that my festival friends had booked and was warmly greeted by Dawa who ran it.

The guesthouse was definitely local. I was the only a)girl b)foreigner staying and it was me and 8 helicopter engineers from Bangalore. I was treated like a princess, hence the nickname I gave myself for the rest of the week. I was given the penthouse ‘suite’ (on the roof with a private bathroom) and was woken every morning to hot lemon tea and a bucket of hot water for a shower. Heaven. The engineers failed to convince me to play cards with them every night but we did have a rather fun day trip on the Sunday. We went to the local Sikh temple (gurdwara) for a free lunch, visited Dawa’s village to have a cup of tea with his Mum and went to Spituk monastery. Visiting Dawa’s village was a great insight into Ladakhi life. Living is around sustainability and each house has a beautiful veg garden with a stream flowing through for irrigation. Sadly this traditional way of life is declining, hence why the musical festival got cancelled. Basking in the sun petting his cows I could see why it was important to preserve it.

So with no rocking out to be done, I decided it was time to hit the hill seriously. Stok Kangri (6123m) looms mightily across Leh and I decided I was going to climb it. So let’s put this in perspective, it’s quite high. Higher than Mont Blanc (4260m), higher than Mt Kilamanjaro (5895m) but not quite as high as Mt Everest (8848m). But I like a challenge, particularly mountain based, so off I headed on a 4 day trek. We had a great group, consisting of a Dutch couple and a French girl and guy. The first day we walked for 4 hours to the first camp (4200m). I thought this would be easy but by the time I reached the camp my head was pounding and I had the first signs of altitude sickness. I started to get a bit worried that if I was feeling like this now how would I be at over 6000m? Well there’s nothing like a good meal and night’s sleep to sort you out. Our expedition cook was excellent we even had pizza and a cake on our last night.

The next day it was a 2 hour walk to base camp (4900m), I took it slowly and spent the afternoon resting. After 6 days of bluebird skies and sunshine the clouds seemed to be ominously chasing us and by 5pm the camp was being lashed at by heavy rain and wind, not a good sign for our 1am start to the summit. Shivering in the tent (from cold and slight nerves) I tried to rest. At 12.30pm with no rain to be seen, a cup of tea was poked through the tent and it was up for porridge. So off we set. Through the patches of cloud the stars were amazing and we hit the snowline and glacier at 5000m. Other trekker’s head torches could be seen ahead in a caterpillar formation like gloworms but apart from that the mountain was pure silence and darkness.

By 5800m we had plodded uphill steadily and sadly my French tent mate got altitude sickness and decided she should go down with one of the guides. So as the dawn broke it was onwards with our crampons and ice axes being fully used. The final ascent to the ridge was at a 45 degree angle and involved falling in line slowly with fellow mountaineers. This consisted of another English group of guys on an organised tour and a platoon from the Indian army. The ridge started at 6000m and whilst everyone rested, we decided to break out of the chain gain and head for the summit. Breathing was getting harder by every centimetre we seemed to move. You could literally only walk 2 metres before needing to stop to get your breath back. But we finally made it to the top. Sadly the cloud hung around obscuring the view of K2 but as it temporarily shifted the catches of the view we had were stunning and worth all that effort. We descended exhausted, as it began to snow a few hundred metres before we reached base camp, I was very glad to be warmly greeted by a big cup of chai and congratulations for making it. A true adventure for the Princess of Leh.

Highlights: going on holiday and not feeling completely broken – this had to be the first holiday I had for many years where I was not completely exhausted from work and needed a week to wind down and feel sane, Tibetan food – momos (little parcels of stuffed heaven) and delicious noodle soups - yum, my discovery of Jungle Tea – that would be a Ladakhi hot toddy made with rum - double yum, beating the boys – I know I shouldn’t boast but I was extra chuffed that we beat the Indian army platoon and slightly smug group of English guys by half an hour to be the first on the summit that day, a visit to SECMOL a sustainable school that helps Year 10 students learn life skills and takes on the failing education system in the region – chatting to Ladakhi students about their life and ambitions that revolve around staying in the area and carrying on their traditions was truly inspirational.

Home sweet home...

So I have returned home (Delhi) from visiting home (London) and realised how nice it is to have two homes and appreciate the experience of living in two very different places...

The main reason for my return home was for my sister’s wedding, which was amazing. I could gush endlessly about it for the next several paragraphs, but it might be pretty boring for you. Before I left for London I was rather stressed about the wedding and was having a slight bridesmaidzilla meltdown for two reasons.

The first stress was over my dress. My sister and I decided it may be easier if I got my bridesmaid dress made in Delhi. I managed to track down a designer who sketched out something suitable and all seemed to be going well. Alarm bells should have been ringing when she kept referring to it as “the gown”. I first got a glimpse of it a week before leaving. She’d been a little ‘over creative’ with the colour and it was dip dyed two shades of purple. Perfect for a hippy wedding in Goa not the best for Babbington House in Somerset. So the dress was remade. It wasn’t quite the right fit and I was not too sure about the voluminous netting at the bottom that allegedly gave it “shape and style”. The second viewing 48 hours before getting on the plane was a slight improvement but not quite right. Let’s just say if I ever need to go to a party where the fancy dress theme is ‘Priscilla Queen of the Desert’ or ‘Muriel’s Wedding’, my outfit will rock. Anyway, thanks to the genius of my sister’s speedy online shopping a suitably divine dress was found and the problem was sorted within 2 hours of landing at Heathrow.

The second stress was over some secret stealth plotting that had been underway since February. I decided to organise a surprise hen party for my sister but as I would only be home 5 days before the Big Day, it had to be the weekend before the wedding. Most brides are probably at meltdown stage by then so I was a little nervous it was cutting it a bit fine. But all was not lost as my sister’s amazing friends rallied around, sent emails about fake hen lunches, carried on the subterfuge and we managed to keep the secret going until the second she opened the front door to be greeted by all her friends for a proper send off to married life.

So let me return to the gushing, the wedding was wonderful it was even more wonderful to be home, see my family and catch up with as many people as I could. London was a balmy 30°c; I came back with a tan and had my fill of as much wine, meat and cheese as I could. It was so clean and calm compared to Delhi, I loved the luxury of pavements and rubbish bins, sleeping on a soft bed and the feeling of carpet between my toes. It was lovely to be greeted in the office so warmly by my colleagues on my return. It was great to show them the wedding photos and explain some of the traditions of a Great British wedding. On seeing the size of my mother’s wedding cake I was asked “how many kgs was the wedding cake?” Also, “had my sister chosen her husband and met him before the wedding day?” and “with the tradition of carrying the bride over the threshold, what would you do if you had a fat wife and lived on the top floor?” All very valid questions, particularly as I could compare the two different types of weddings having been to an Indian one a few weeks before.

So now I’m back home and it’s a nice feeling to know that my two homes both have amazing things about them that I can appreciate even more. And this week’s photos? Well it’s my dedication to my fellow volunteers who are missing and craving Western cuisine. Please enjoy the food porn, it was all worth the wait and tasted all the more divine for having a curry based diet for 8 months – enjoy!

Highlights: the wedding – ok this is the end of the gushing but I have to say we Brits know how to throw a good bash, what an amazing day and loved the fact we were up dancing until 3.30am, it’s hot, it’s steamy and very unpredictable – sadly I’m not describing an attractive young man sitting next to me in seat 39D on the flight home - it’s Delhi in the monsoon, never have I enjoyed grey skies and rain in my life so much. If you haven’t seen it already, enjoy my Bollywood ‘debut’ in a soap opera spoof, so far it’s had 4,793 hits on YouTube and apart from securing a role in a chewing gum ad, I don’t think I need to get an agent quite yet...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0xc_XK51YQ&feature=related

For the next 220 hours...

... I will be back in Blighty for a flying visit for my sister’s wedding. Since I found out in February I would get the chance to go home, I have been forming a mental list of all the things (that may seem day to day for you but are seriously exciting for me!) that I am going to relish doing and here’s just a few...

Hugging and kissing all my lovely family and friends. I’m very excited about the wedding, not only is it a really special occasion I also get to spend time with lots of the people I miss the most, I finally get a brother in law and a recall on a job position I last had when I was five (this time no primrose taffeta involved) as a bridesmaid, so can’t wait to finally be there for my sister. I’m also going to be meeting three little people who last time I saw them were bumps in tummies so can’t wait to give a big cuddle to baby Eva, Rohan and Guy.

Eating the following; steak, fish and chips, smoked salmon, roast beef, sausages, bacon, prawns, pie, Scotch eggs, bagels, cheese, lasagne, cake (particularly my Mum’s wedding cake), scones, pasta with creamy sauce, olives, hummus, Cornish pasties, smoky bacon crisps, avocados, burgers, proper chips, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, stuffing, fresh bread, cheese on toast with a splash of Worcester sauce, toast with marmalade, Percy Pigs, proper chocolate, a fry up, ham, salami and more cheese...

Drinking; Champagne, wine, a pint of Guinness, Magners on ice, proper mojitos, a decent margarita, Yorkshire tea, Early Grey, cappuccino, latte and Ribena. Enjoying a bottle of wine in a pub with friends is going to be divine as well as not having to drink 6 litres of water a day to beat the heat.

Wearing inappropriate clothing – yep, I may just flash some flesh whilst I’m home. I may just go outside with bare shoulders in a vest top (gasp!) I may combine that with a knee length skirt for the double bubble effect and show off my legs (double gasp!), controversial I know. I’ve also got a hot date with Daniel, my hairdresser, who may need to approach my dry and ravaged locks with an industrial pair of garden shears. It will be nice to get a decent cut as it tends to be Russian roulette when you go to the hairdresser in India, not knowing if you are going to come out looking like Edward Scissorhands has styled you for a Vivienne Westwood shoot...

The great thing about doing VSO is that it makes you appreciate so much in life that you have, from the really big things (family and friends) to the small things (a decent glass of wine) so I’m really excited to be back and only one more sleep to go...

Highlights: my Bollywood debut – at the weekend I helped a friend out who was making a spoof mini film, I got to wear a beautiful pink sari all day, was clueless to any of the dialogue and hopefully the one line I spoke in Hindi won’t make the cutting floor, on the day it reached 49°c knowing I would soon be somewhere at least 20°c cooler very soon, cheering England on with fellow volunteers and beer – a pre match WAGs style pedi was obviously a lucky omen made particularly sweeter as I won the bet with my boss about our victory so looking forward to receiving the wager of an office treat of samosas this afternoon.

"Food, glorious food...

...hot sausage and mustard”, as Oliver once sang. If only a) it was possible to get a decent banger b) I actually had the appetite to eat in the heat. One of things I’ve had to adapt to over here is a change in diet which is extra challenging when it’s so hot...

Curry is wonderful. I’m not complaining about eating it every day, I could quite happily do so forever but variety is the spice of life, particularly when it comes to food, one of my great loves. The biggest change in my diet since living in India has being finding my inner Linda McCartney. Most people tend to be vegetarian and it’s very hard to buy reasonably priced good quality “non-veg” e.g. meat. So I have adapted, but endlessly fantasise about bacon sandwiches, sausage and mash and steak. It’s made doubly hard by the fact there are so many cows wandering around...

We have a standard VSO issue gas hob to cook on. I really miss baking things. Oh to be able to cook lasagne / pizza / cakes anything that does not involve a saucepan. If I need a fix, I treat myself to some food porn and go on the Waitrose website and drool at the monthly recipes, tragic I know. When the heat reaches 45°c+ there is a 10 minute rule for cooking. It’s so hot in the kitchen you have to get in and boil / fry in less than 10 minutes before you are looking like you’ve been locked in a sauna in ski wear, have lost all appetite and are blinded by the sweat in your eyes. My diet has become very egg based. Egg mayonnaise sandwiches and omelettes have become a speciality. I feel like Gwen from Gavin & Stacey as I once again reach for the eggs in the fridge.

It’s difficult to be inspired at our local supermarket the infamous ‘Star Bizarre’. One of the joys and sorrows of being a volunteer in a capital city is the fact you have access to everything and anything, but can’t afford it. Star Bizarre, is an extremely prophetic name. Imagine the number of products of a large Walmart crammed into a tiny Tesco Metro. It’s the worst supermarket planning in the world. The shelves are piled high, the aisles are crammed by more products on the floor causing you to walk down them sideways like a crab, they have those irritating tiny supermarket trolleys and there is normally several fairly ‘shapely’ middle class customers endlessly browsing / blocking the aisles and queue pushing.

The one benefit is that they have a ‘Beer & Breezer’ counter. The only alcohol they sell is beer (Kingfisher of course) and Bacardi Breezers which seem to be ladies choice of drink in this part of the world. You can’t buy beer at the same time as your food shopping which is a tad irritating but the benefit is you don’t get groped which is standard practice for any hole in the wall speakeasy style off licence ( the only other place you can buy booze). One day the ‘Beer & Breezer’ counter disappeared overnight. It was replaced by men’s underpants. On enquiring why they’d introduced a new line of briefs in the place of beer I was advised the government had taken away their licence. Two months later the beer returned and the pants got upgraded to the top floor which is also a toy shop. How Bizarre.

Highlights: my work week – I had a really interesting and satisfying week with productive meetings about online individual donor opportunities, support for sports and development for a blind cricket project and was part of a corporate ‘Make a Difference’ day, appreciating a good night’s sleep - having enjoyed a weekend of sleeping without my AC, getting used to it again has been difficult as on the sound scale it has gone up in irritation factor of a mosquito mating with a pneumatic drill, rain storms – it finally cooled down for a few days and it’s a joy to be able to be outside a bit more and do things like go running much to the amusement of the gangs of boys playing cricket in my local park...

Time to head for the hills...

It was all getting a bit too much. The heat (47°c), the dust and Delhi’s population of 16 million was getting to me so there was only one thing to do, head for the Himalayas.

I had found the perfect retreat. Or rather, I had been told about the perfect retreat through a chance meeting at the Foreigner’s Registration Office. At the final stage of getting my Resident’s Permit, with a three hour wait to go, I got chatting to a rather charming German professor. After sharing many tips on Delhi, he informed me “if the heat get’s too much you must go to Jilling”. Jilling I discovered was a family run farm in Uttarakhand in the foothills of the Himalayas about eight hours from Delhi. The German professor had his own cottage on the site, had known the family for many years and it sounded like heaven.

So as a birthday treat, off I headed on Friday getting the train at 5.30am arriving at Lal Kuan at 11.30am. I was then picked up by a taxi for the two hour drive into the foothills. The view was spectacular and I felt like Lady Penelope as I sat in the back of the AC car winding up the hills. My poor buttocks are used to being battered about in the back of a rickshaw, so a car trip in soft furnishing was sheer luxury. The area is known as the Lake District of India and it was a delight to see so much green and blue replace the usual view of dust and rubbish. As we wound around the final corner of the road I was greeted by Steve, my host for the weekend.

I liked Steve within seconds. I first of all heard him before I saw him. The satisfying roar of the Bullet motorbike was backed up by the view of Steve complete with white beard and flying goggles. He looked like Captain Birdseye on shore leave, thoroughly enjoying some quality time on his bike. He was heading off for a ride and let me know someone would help me with my luggage for the final walk up to the house. The walk was spectacular it took an hour up winding stone paths, past cottages, horses, buffalos and friendly locals in an Alpine setting.

I arrived at the farm to be greeted by Steve’s daughter, wife and a delicious lunch. And so my weekend at Jilling started. I had my own cottage hidden amongst the trees further up the hill which was the German professor’s library. In between sitting outside reading on the terrace, watching birds, white monkeys and the spectacular scenery of snow capped peaks such as Nanda Devi (7816 metres) I had the most relaxing time. There were six farm dogs to play with, the adopted baby deer Benaru, who would accompany me on walks between taken for guided tours of the estate. The farm and woodland has been very carefully preserved and it was fascinating to learn about the ecology, effects of the population growth and global warming in the area on the flora and fauna and life at the farm.

One of the highlights had to be attending a local wedding over two days. The first day was a celebration for the bride called the Mehendi. It involved celebrating the bride’s big day with dancing, bracelet buying and henna painting. The women were dressed in vibrant orange, pink and red saris and the bride’s family wore traditional nose rings. It was fascinating and an interesting comparison to a traditional British hen do – no booze, strippers or dancing around handbags in site. The wedding on the second day was even more interesting. The groom arriving on a horse with a band and the ceremony involved handing over of lots of gifts. It did slightly remind me of Bullseye as the Hindu priest had a touch of Jim Bowen to him as he handed over briefcases full of everything from gold watches, knitted jumpers, cash and dried fruit.

The bride looked very solemn throughout and I was told that this was because it was a sad day for her as she was leaving her family. It was very interesting particularly to see how the families did not mix in the same way we do at European weddings. The groom’s family ate first then the bride’s ate. They sat separately across the courtyard and despite the fact everyone was singing and chatting throughout, the ceremony had a formal edge to it. I returned to Delhi on Monday night, feeling recharged and relieved it had rained so was slightly cooler. Stepping off the train at New Delhi station I was embraced by the sounds, smells and sights that only Delhi gives and reflected that it had been good to have my own adventure away from the daily adventure that life in India is.

Highlights: sleeping with a duvet – no noise of a fan or AC just the sounds of nature, eating delicious home cooked and wedding food, being able to be outside in the sunshine without getting third degree burns, being in the hills – it did not feel like I was in India for the whole weekend which was a bit of a treat as sometimes the dust, rubbish and heat can make you go a little crazy, my birthday – I had cake rubbed into my face in the traditional Indian way and enjoyed an evening of sangria and cigars which was very random but lots of fun, the Percy Pigs that I received for my birthday amongst other wonderful packages – the perfect train food and a nice change from samosas.

Time for some fancy dress fun...

So what’s a girl to do when it’s 47°c outside in the day and 32°c at night – organise a fancy dress party! Inspired by our recent trip to Varanasi there was only one possible theme – backpackers...

As with most things in life, it’s all in the preparation. As most people from home know me I take fancy dress very seriously. So the weekend before the party it was off to Paharganj, the backpacker’s district in Delhi, for some serious shopping. Pharganj is the kind of place that all backpackers end up as soon as they arrive in India as it’s got everything you need to give you the full taste of the Indian ‘experience’. Dirty streets, cheap shops selling tie dye outfits, hippy beads and the Om symbol printed on absolutely everything. Within minutes I had found a suitably inspirational orange tie dye dress to go with my pink baggy trousers and accessories worthy of any Gap year student.

We’d given our guests some party guidelines and there were extra points for baggy traveller’s pants, dreadlocks, bongos and excessive boasting about where they’d been and the impact they’d made volunteering at that ashram for a day. In true volunteer style everyone made huge efforts. To begin with, everyone had taken on a new name to match their backpacker persona. I had gone for Skylar to reinforce my trustafarian roots and we were lucky enough to have the presence of Moses, Amethyst, Rainbow and Quinn to name a few of our esteemed guests.

The venue was our roof terrace which occasionally gets a bit of breeze. The night was seriously hot and we provided suitable lounge seating in the form of a day bed pimped up with lots of ethnic cushions. We served beer, gin and tonics and watermelon to keep everyone cool. The star attraction of the night was another volunteer, who excelled in embracing his inner backpacker. Having turned up in ‘civilian’ clothing much to my distress, he informed me that he had bought with him his fire poi with him. For those who were not present on the Ibiza/Goan/Thai full moon backpacker party scene c.1994 fire poi are quite literally balls of petrol soaked fire on a chain that are swung around to form, well, pretty patterns. It takes quite a lot of guts to do it, bring your own petrol to the party and perform in the enclosed space that is our roof terrace.

The poi was lit and the spinning began. Everyone stepped back as the heat and petrol fumes hit them. Then suddenly our poi performer set himself on fire. Luckily we managed to stop the flames creeping up the back of his shirt before any serious damage was done and he carried on his performance to rapturous applause. It’s great to see some of the VSO skills of flexibility and adaptability in both work and play..!

Highlights: having some crazy fun in the crazy heat - it’s too hot to even think at the moment but it was great that everyone made such an effort for our party, treat time – discovering the perfect pedicure for only Rs180 (£2.40), stealth AC – having an excuse to hit the shopping mall and hiding out at the cinema to absorb some frosty magic, adapting – rose water lassis and ice cream have become part of my daily diet, when in Rome...!

What's in a name..?

Well, quite a lot when it comes to the title of my blog which encapsulates one of Delhi’s most frustrating features...

So why ‘Honk if you like curry’? Well the name came from an observation I made in the first few days of living here. You cannot begin to describe the sound/irritation factor of the constant honking that every vehicle in Delhi makes. Everybody drives using their horn, as if they are all honking in agreement for the love of their national dish. It’s been proven that 70% of noise pollution in Delhi comes from honking horns and there is even an official No Honking Day on 1st January. How considerate to choose the one day of the year everyone is going to have a hangover...

Maybe due to the heat, my irritation and tolerance levels are slowly sinking. My experience of being on the road usually involves walking down it or being stuck in a rickshaw exposed to the elements. My biggest frustration comes as a pedestrian. If a car approaches you (normally about 10 metres away) they will start honking as if to say “watch out, I’m bigger than you”. This could be seen as a polite gesture. But it normally involves several further honks which are not necessary. But then again, based on my experience of Delhi drivers I’m glad you get a warning sound. I don’t want to make a sweeping statement but no one seems to be able to drive properly in Delhi. No one can park, overtaking and undertaking with a few centimetres to spare, as well as driving the wrong way on a dual carriage way (I’ve seen it all) is quite common. Being on the road is like being in a Mario Kart game. The common vehicles you spot range from tractors, buses, large SUVs, tiny Tata hatchbacks, auto rickshaws, cycle rickshaws, motorbikes with up to 4 passengers, bicycles with up to 2 passengers, carts, cows and the occasional elephant. All driving is of course accompanied by a symphony of honks, which acts as a warning and voids any maverick driving manoeuvres.

I jokingly mentioned to my colleagues at lunch the other day about this frustration of mine and that it seemed as if no one had actually passed their test. I was then told I was right. As most people pay a bribe to get their test rather than sit it. Everyone then compared notes on how much they had paid for their licences. The least being Rs200 (£2.66) the most being Rs5,000 (£66.66) – what a bargain. One colleague had even failed his test by failing to give a bribe. That explains a lot I thought.

But like all things in India, the system works. I’m yet to see an accident, the skill and reaction of drivers to swerve with minimal damage is impressive. And the honking? Well at least you get a warning and it’s something I’m always going to associate with India. It’s going to be a long hot summer and only going to get noisier...


Highlights: mango season is in full swing – a visit to a ‘Mango Festival’ has broadened my mango knowledge apparently it’s all about the Alphonso, air conditioning the finest invention – I spent most of the weekend holed up at the American Centre enjoying a Hitchcock Festival and the frosty surroundings, getting ready for my sister’s wedding – it’s under 7 weeks until the big day, my bridesmaid dress is currently being made by a local designer and this week I chose the material and colour. Its hard being away from home in the run up to such a big occasion but seeing my dress come together is getting me more and more excited about my visit home for the Big Day.

177 days in...

I can hardly believe that I’m coming up to the 6 month mark of my one year VSO placement. Time has gone by quickly as every day is saturated full of new things, both fascinating and frustrating. Reaching this milestone has made me reflected on my learnings so far...

Rights
6 months ago back in London, if you had asked me what my rights were it would have taken me some time to answer. In the bubble that was my life then, I would probably have said; to vote, to get equal pay as my male colleagues, a pay rise every year to reward my hard work, afford a few holidays a year, clothes and good times with friends. How my opinion has changed.

Everyone has different reasons for doing VSO but at the core of it is the challenge of having a new experience and directly learning about the developing world. Every day you learn something new about so many things, including yourself. Not only have I had a change in career, there’s also been a change in continent, country, culture and customs. I think everyone must feel like a slight fraud in their first few weeks in placement. As much as we have ‘advisor’ in our job titles, how can we advise if we don’t even know the context our advice is to be given? Learning about the country you are in takes time. It’s been incredibly easy to embrace some parts of the culture such as food (God bless the fact curry is our national dish). Adapting to traditional clothes has been easy too. Wearing a salwaar kameez to work is the coolest option and I like the fact my wardrobe no longer is varying shades of black and grey but an explosion of colours. But how on earth can you start to understand a country like India, with 1.2 billion people, 31 states, 1618 languages, 6400 castes and 6 religions, in a short period of time?

Well I think the answer is fairly simple. Just by living here and being open minded. My walk to work is my favourite time of the day as I get to see what’s going on around. This morning I started thinking about my rights. Walking down the road probably is the biggest frustration of my day. Being stared at, called out at and nearly run over is all part of the challenge. Do I have the right to be able to cross the road safely and not be stared at? Yes and no you could argue. If the government was spending the money to repair the road on ensuring the 40% of the population (4.8m) who live below the poverty line weren’t living on less than $1 (65p) a day and could afford 2 meals, then I would say I don’t have the right to demand tarmac and traffic lights…

And with the staring, it’s the first time in my life I’ve been a minority. Being female increases the Stare Factor, should I get annoyed about the fact I can’t wear shorts when I go jogging or a vest top to the market when it’s 45°c outside? Not really, when women have a struggle for survival that starts in the womb, with female infantacide still common. In a patriachal society being treated as a second class citizen in relation to their male family members, receiving food and education last only if there is enough is still common for many. India is a democracy and in no way should be viewed as an oppressive state, being here enables you to learn and experience both the positive and the negatives and see everything in context.

So what do I think my rights are now? I feel very lucky that I have had access to and have an education, that I had enough to eat when I grew up, clean water, free medical care, that I am not discrimanted based on my gender, I can live independently and that I have enough money to be happy.

Relationships
The moment you get on the plane to your placement you experience a strange release / panic. Everything is new around you, including your identity. There’s no point of reference for you, no friends or family to fit into. If I decided I wanted to be called Tallulah for the next 12 months, only eat red food and take up basket weaving no one would have questioned me. You are at ground zero with your relationships and need to start from scratch on top of dealing with a new group of people/country/flat/job/lifestyle.

VSO training prepares you very well for dealing with the relationships around you. It’s so important to create and develop them. We lucked out with our group when we all arrived for our in country training. The eighteen of us all got on well and had minimal sense of humour failures despite living on top of each other and sharing rooms for a month. Our gang in Delhi are a great eclectic bunch and one of the many benefits of doing an urban placement means you already have an extensive social life to plug into.

Being away from home firstly makes you reflect how lucky you are to have such great family and friends. You miss the simplest things from meeting up with a friend for a glass of wine or calling someone up for a post work chat. Your new family really is at work. Relationships here are perhaps the most important and you need to develop them as fast as possible. That can be the most challenging as working life is so different. Everything is a lot more reactive, the pace so much slower, with priority and responsibility viewed in a different way to home. For a TOMTD (Task Orientated Multi Tasking Demon) like me – it’s been a big change! My favourite part of my work day is lunch, where we religiously all sit down and eat together. Apart from getting to try everyone’s delicious home cooked food the topic of conversation varies so much every day. Religion, politics, cricket, books, films, solar energy and Princess Diana are just some of the topics we’ve done in the last few days. It’s a great time to learn more about everyone and life in India.

So what do the next 6 months hold? Denial firstly that I’m half way through, then enjoying every second as I have done so far, eating a lot more curry, seeing more of India and continuing to learn more...

Highlights – there’s too many to list, so this week’s pictures are a selection of my favourites from the last 6 months - enjoy!

The heat is on...

Feeling hot, hot, hot. Heat wave. Hot in the city. These are just the few of the songs that seem to be on an eternal loop in my head as I enjoy my new commute to work...

So yes, predictably it’s hot at the moment. It reached 44°c here last week which is abnormal for this time of year. Global warming? Who can say, but it’s only going to get hotter. So I was somewhat relieved when I found out my new commute to work was only going to be 25 minutes long. Some may say its a bit mad dogs & Englishmen to be out walking in this weather, but I think it’s helping me keep acclimatised and my panting normally subsides fairly quickly after I’ve reached the office thanks to our very swish air conditioning.

I tend to start my commute somewhat irritated. This is due to lack of sleep. I seem to be having a love/hate relationship with my air conditioning unit at present. Don’t get me wrong I can’t live without it, but it seems to need a lot of attention. I love it for its ability to churn out waves of magical frosty air within seconds but it’s quite vocal about it. The sound varies between a small Cessna taking off to Concorde landing. Ear plugs are sadly not doing the trick yet, so I tend to have a ratio of two nights of no sleep to one of heavy sleep brought about by exhaustion. So by the time I hit the proverbial pavement I tend to require minimal eye contact, sound and interruption to keep me focused on the day ahead.

In India that of course is never possible. I firstly amble through Kailash Colony Market, AKA cycle rickshaw depot. Weaving my way through, I am constantly accosted by rickshaw wallahs most distressed at my pedestrian status. Their usual way to get my attention is loudly slapping their seats, ringing their bells with a “Hullo Madam”, driving straight towards me or slowing down as I cross the road so I’m forced to either choose them or have my buttocks clipped by a passing motorist. Once I’ve managed to avoid at least 30 of them I then hit the ring road. This ring road is getting the royal treatment for the Commonwealth Games. So, it’s another building site. The middle of the road is currently housing the ribs of the Metro extension and is covered in scaffolding and construction workers. As the traffic tries to squeeze through, teams of construction workers pour through.

Health and safety is only limited to hats in India. Most of them are dressed in what can only be described as ‘pulling shirts’ (nylon & skin tight). They look as if they decided to go to a fancy dress party as one of the Village People but gave up from the neck down. At least due to the repression factor none of them shout out things like “show us your white bits”, it’s more just the usual Stare Factor. To be honest I’m sure they are not staring at me but are in a catatonic state of sheer exhaustion. I was pleased to read in the paper last week that after a successful strike they’d managed to get time and a half for the final three hours of their 27 hour shifts...

Apart from the construction work and traffic the real challenge is crossing the road. There are no traffic lights so it really is a case of timing and courage. I haven’t quite got up the balls to try what I like to call the TST (Tiananman Square Technique). This involves walking out into the traffic with your arm held out and I’m sure using mind control techniques worthy of Paul McKenna to make vehicles and cows stop. I normally wait 10 minutes and sneak behind some school children, power walking with determination.

Highlights: I never thought I would say it but power cuts – with no AC we’ve rediscovered the joy of our balcony at night that’s marginally cooler than being indoors and a beer outside is always the best option to beat the heat, mango season – it’s started and long may it reign, my new breakfast special is muesli, yoghurt and fresh mango, discovering the American Embassy does free Friday night films with seriously good AC – god bless Obama.