More from Wombarra and around

A few more words and pictures about my time in Wombarra, to go some way towards explaining why I couldn't wipe a smile off my face all week.

Some faces to go with the names. Here are Caro and David:

Caro had been asked to review a restaurant in Kiama and, although she couldn't take me to the meal, she did take me along for the ride. Also on the trip was Suze, a veteran food critic, with whom I very much enjoyed talking about what makes a good restaurant experience. My favourite of her juding criteria was that the food should have 'integrity'. I had a wonderful time there, first walking up to the blowhole then taking an almost childish delight in the water booming out of it, followed by a lovely walk along the coast. Moreover, by reports on the way back, I did much better with my fish and chips sitting on the grass overlooking the bay below than they did with their supposedly fancier meal.


Caro provides homework assistance to an African refugee girl in Wollongong. She took me along to the weekly afterschool session where I was matched with a bright and lively 13 year old Iranian girl who needed help with her mathematics homework. I was in my element as we worked through a division with decimals.

Another lovely moment was when Caro took me to the local sculpture garden. We were the only people there and spent a wonderful hour wandering through the native temperate rainforest and admiring the art as and when we came across it.

On the morning I was due to leave I woke up stupidly early (4am) and, when I couldn't get back to sleep, got up and worked on the computer. I didn't really notice the time pass until I glanced out of the window and was hit with an orange so bright that I thought something was on fire. In fact, it was the sun was rising. In terms of the brightness and vibrancy of the colours in the sky, it was the best I'd ever seen.

After eight days, it was time to move on. Though I was excited about adventures to be had elsewhere in the country, it was with great sadness, in fact with a tear in my eye, that I said my goodbyes. It was a perfect week.

Sydney

I got rather side-tracked in the last post from talking about my trips into Sydney. Now I'm back on task...

My first trip into the city was with Caro, who took me to the Fish Market for sushi, which went down a treat, as did the lively bustle of the place, though I was still in reverse culture shock. We took a beautiful walk along the Bondi-Bronte trail - I was in heaven soaking up the ocean breeze - before heading for the best ice cream in Sydney.

On my second trip into Sydney, I went, on Caro's recommendation , to an exhibition of the Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama at the Museum of Contemporary Arts (MCA). I enjoyed it immensely. Kusama creates large, bright, multi-coloured works, often covered with polka dots, that are lots of fun to be around. The piece that had the biggest impact on me was a recreated living room, the entirety of which was covered in these multi-coloured polka dots, which became seemingly alive under UV lighting. I strongly encourage you to Google her work.

After the MCA I met an old family friend, Nikki Ellis, for a delicious lunch, then spent the afternoon at the Museum of Sydney, browsing through it's well-presenting and informative displays on the history of the city, including a surprisingly absorbing exhibition on the tram. Between that and the MCA, it was rather a museum overload and by the time I'd caught the train back to Wombarra, I was as tired as I'd been on any day trekking around Annapurna.

The next trip into Syndey was with Caro and David for an extremely as-far-from-the-mainstream-as-possible dance performance, a one woman show based on Thomas de Quincey's 'Confessions of an Opium Eater'. The sound and visual effects were excellent but I enjoyed the actual dancing less, I think, than the others. The reason we were there was that Caro had been invited to moderate a post-performance discussion, which brought forth insights and explanations which did a good deal to enhance my understanding of the show. I must admit that for me the best part of the evening was seeing Caro in full professional flow.

The fourth and final trip into Sydney was with Caro and began with dim sum (or yum cha as it's called here), always a great start to the day. We were in town for a show called 'Gatz', a six hour reading/performance of 'The Great Gatsby at the Sydney Opera House'. It was certainly an original piece of theatre. The set was a shabby office and the production started with one of the workers coming in, attempting to get his computer working and failing. Frustrated, he picks up a copy of 'The Great Gatsby' and begins reading aloud. As he does so, other workers come into the office, look at him like he's kind of crazy, and carry about their day. But gradually, they morph into the characters in the book, taking over their dialogue. Ultimately, what is said on stage is exactly the entirety of 'The Great Gatsby', nothing more, nothing less. As the performance progresses, the office setting gradually pares down and the actors become increasingly like Fitzgerald's characters.

The production garnered mixed reviews, most calling it a tour de force whilst others felt it didn't work at all. I take a position in between the two. Over the six hours, there were plenty of moments that were spell-binding, truly innovative, exciting, funny, poingant. But there were also points where the momentum lagged, the actors seemed tired or the interpretation didn't quite make sense to me. Overall, though, it was a fabulous evening and definitely a piece of theatre that will stick with me for a long time to come.

An unexpected and fortuitous encounter

Wombarra, as I have already mentioned, is lovely in itself, but has the additional advantage of being close to Sydney, allowing me to get a (Western) culture fix, something I'd begun to miss during my three months in Nepal.

My first trip into the city had an unexpected benefit, a chance encounter that was to shape the rest of my time in Australia. I missed the train I was supposed to be taking (I was on the platform at the time, but a confusion over the timetable meant that I watched it pull away, just as I'd realised my error). There were three other women who were similarly muddled and we got chatting. I asked them for their recommendations whilst I was in Australia and one of them, Camille, told me about the Thorsborne Trail on Hinchinbrook Island, a four day bush walk on the country's largest island national park, along tropical beaches and through unspoilt rainforest. Needless to say, that sounded fantastically appealing and I resolved to do it. Moreover, Camille put me in touch with her sister-in0law, Soo, who lives in Cairns, who offered to lent me all the required camping gear.

Since only 40 people are allowed on the trail at any one time, you have to book in advance. There was only one four day during my entire stay in Australia when there was availability. I booked two places, in the hope that I would find someone to go with, and planned the rest of my time around it.

You'll be hearing much more about the trail, which thoroughly lived up to expectation, when I finally get caught up on this blog. There are some stunning photos for you to look forward to as well.

Caro and Wombarra

One of the main reasons why I wanted to come to Australia was to visit my godmother, Caro, who lives in Wombarra, a small town on the coast about an hour south of Sydney.

It was such a joy to see Caro and her husband, David. Caro and I have always gotten on well though, being continents apart, we've not spent all that much time together. Having a whole week together was heavenly. I think we covered pretty much every topic for discussion under the sun. She showed me an absolutely excellent time. I realised that I could have conversations with her that I probably couldn't have with anyone else. I'd always thought she was fantastic but now I reckon she's one of the most awesome people I know and I feel hugely lucky and privileged to have her as my godmother.

I absolutely fell in love with Wombarra and the surrounding towns (Coldale, Thirroul, Austinmer) along the Illawarra coast. They are unremittingly charming. Unlike the beach towns north of Sydney, known as dormitory suburbs because they are essentially commuter towns, the towns to the south still have a character of their own. They're just so sunny, not just in terms of the glorious weather (though it was glorious) but also that everyone I met there was of such a sunny disposition. I was blissfully happy the whole week. I'm not sure I ever stopped smiling.

It all got off to a very good start with a trip down to the local beach. Amongst her many talents, Caro is a photographer and has produced a beautiful range of pictures of the trails the snails leave when moving through a thin layer of sand and exposing the mineral-rich rock beneath. She calls these 'snail songlines'. I have long been familiar with these images, so it was a thrill to see the place where they were created and take some snaps of my own:

For Caro's photos, check out www.carolinebaum.com.au

The beach where they were taken:

Caro had sent me an e-mail when I was still in Nepal promising a change of dietary pace. My request was for meat that wasn't chicken or mutton, and she came up trumps on the first night with osso bucco, one of my all time favourite dishes, though she didn't know this. It marked the beginning of a week of total gluttony with Caro and I, who both love food, increasingly egging each other on in pursuit of the tasty. Ice cream, cakes, dim sum, sushi, scrumptious cheeses and figs, fresh local seafood. You name it, we probably ate it.

The journey: Kathmandu to Syndey

After three months based in one place and almost constantly surrounded with other people, it felt extremely strange to be on the road, on my own.

It took nearly 48 hours to get from Kathmandu to Sydney, via Delhi and Singapore.

I had to spend a night in Delhi, which I was not looking forward to, given that I hadn't really enjoyed my preicous trip to the city. Perhaps because my expectations were so low, I actually had a lovely evening. I treated myself to a hotel room (nicer than where I'd stayed with Sapna and at third of the price), had a yummy dinner and, most importantly, slept.

My three hour layover at Singapore was a total reverse culture shock. So clean and shiny, everything so new, there were even automaticly flushing toilets! The wealth on display, the retail extravaganza, was bewildering.

Here's the airport orchid garden:

My first sight of Sydney was coming in to land, shortly before 5am, an almost full moon reflected in the harbour. It was beautiful and I knew that I'd have a good time here.

Final goodbyes

I've already written a post describing how I felt in those last few moments before leaving Kathmandu. Here are some final photos taken in the last few moments before I left.

Kansi-didi, Sita and baby Mihir. The first two kept Spana and Rabi's house in excellent order, the latter did his best to mess it all up again!


The repair shop round the corner where my bike spent much of its early life (before I replaced the inner-tube, after which it gave me no more trouble).

My final meal in Nepal. This is dal bhat, but school canteen style (from MotherCare) and not nearly as appetising as the dal bhat from trekking days:

My final moments were lovely. Kansi-didi, Sita and Rabi had prepared a small leaving ceremony for me, lining the doorway with flowers and presenting me with a silk scarf as a sign of respect. I was extremely moved. And then I was off.

Last few days in Kathmandu

After Pokhara, I came back to Kathmandu with only a day and a bit left before leaving for Australia. I felt somewhat at a loss, so much that I wanted to do yet disinclined to do anything but potter about. It didn't help that Maria, with whom I'd spent pretty much 24 hours a day for the last three weeks, had opted to stay in Pokhara a few extra days and wouldn't be back before I left.

So in those days I mooched around Thamel, the touristy part of town, hung out with cute Maria, Jolie and a few other trekking buddies and tried to get myself in order for the next stage of my travels. I also caught up with Namrata and other teachers and parents from MotherCare and went for a tour of John Dewey School, which had finally opened (the one I thought I was going out to write curriculum for). It was also lovely to see Sapna and Rabi, who treated me to a delicious goodbye dinner.

I made it back to Orchid Garden for one morning and it was wonderful to see the kids I'd become so fond of again. It was the new school year, though, and many of my favourites had moved on. I spent the morning comforting a new boy who had not yet become accustomed to being so far from his mother and cried for her non-stop. I also went to visit Nishant, the little boy I'm sponoring, and Jenisha, the little girl my Mum is sponsoring, in their new schools. Here they are. Jenisha is the shy one in the back corner:

It was great to see Nishant looking so happy after reports from Maria that he'd been kind of glum at the end of last term:

Paragliding

Sangrakot, a few kilometers outside of Pokhara, is meant to be one of the best spots for paragliding in the world and so, to make up for the disappointment of not going to Chitwan, I signed up and thankfully persuaded Maria to do so as well.

As we were driving up to the jumping off point, I thought to myself 'perhaps this was not the best choice of activities for someone who doesn't like heights', and had to keep reminding myself that I'm using gap year as an opportunity to overcome fears. By the time I was all harnessed up and told to run off the cliff, I was fine.

I took my brain a fwe moments to compute what was going on and my body a little while to get comfortable, but once I was in position there was nothing to do except sit back and admire the view. I had been told it would be like sitting in an armchair in the sky, and that is indeed what it felt like. The haze that had so dramatically limited our view whilst trekking was hanging over Pokhara too. It was infuriating to know that I was paragliding over the Himalayas but couldn't see them. What we could see is documented in this little video. I was holding the camera still, so any movement is the result of the bumpiness of the ride:

My pilot, Neil, took me way higher than the rest off the paragliders up there, which was pretty cool. At our highest, we were about 1100m above the ground. The view was much like you get taking off or landing in a plane. The only time it seemed sensational was when I looked directly down and saw my feet dangling above it. Neil explained to me how he navigated: following birds, looking for those fluffy seedheads and going after those and even by using smell (if he can smell anything at that altitude he knows there must be a thermal that's carrying it up, so that's a good place to get some height for the paraglider as well). The ride was pretty bumpy. We were subjected to the same kind of turbulence that you get on planes, only this felt much more immediate. The feeling of simply sitting in the sky was just fab. We were flying! At times we were above the soaring birds and level with the clouds. Best of all I loved how natural it felt, just me, Neil a big piece of fabric and some ropes harnessing the power of the sky.

Pokhara and white-water rafting

After the joy of being in the mountains, Pokhara took some adjusting to, an adjustment I never quite made. It's the second largest city in Nepal but the tourist area, which we never made it out of, is only a strip long and full of over-priced souvenir shops, stores full of counterfeit trekking gear and restaurants geared at foreigners. It was impossible to walk down the road without being hassled every few meters by proprieters wanting your business. I hated it. I was tired and overwhelmed and sad about the trek being over. Moreover, I got word on my arrival that political troubles in the Terai region meant that I couldn't go to the jungle in Chitwan National Park which I'd been so looking forward to.

On the plus side, the hotel room that Maria and I signed into had space to move around in, beds that were significantly larger than our bodies and two whole lights and an electric socket, not to mention an en-suite bathroom. So what if it lacked character, had stains on the carpets and walls, ants marching along the floor and a cockroach or two. It seemed like the lap of luxury to us.

Since I wasn't going to Chitwan, I found myself with four days to kill in Pokhara. On a whim, I signed up for a white-water rafting trip on the lower Marsyangdi river, which was exactly where we'd walked along on the first day of the trek. The rafting was great fun. There were plenty of decent rapids with lots of splash as well as opportunities to jump into the river and swim along. As a bonus, I knew about half of the people in the group because they'd been on the ACT as the same time as us. The company that we went with, Paddle Nepal, knew their stuff. It was a great day.

The second day in Pokhara I just hung out with Maria, wondered up and down the strip, then up and down again. I indulged in a 'trekkers' special' massage - a whole lot of pulling, pushing and prodding - aft5er which I felt mcuh better. In the afternoon, we rented a row boat and spent a deliciously calm three hours paddling on the lake, Phewa Tal.

On the third day Maria and I went paragliding, but I'll write that up in a separate post.

Annapurna Circuit Trek: Conclusion

So, there you go. I've FINALLY finished writing up about the trek. It had its highs and its lows, literally and metaphorically. Although there were times when I was exhausted, in pain, angry and anxious, that's not what I'm going to remember. It was a challenge and I met it. I feel really good about that. I was in some of the most beautiful scenery I can imagine. I was fit and healthy. I made great friends.

I'm feeling at a loss for words to describe just how wonderful the whole experience was. In short, it's absolutely one of the best things I've ever done.