These are a few images from Varanasi where as in all over India cricket is the game. These guys are playing along the ghats! Also a couple of Dharamsala shots and finally two pics from Bharatpur. This must be the best bird sanctuary in the whole world. It is teeming with migratory waders. The numbers are quite staggering.
The weather is pretty wet and cold here in New Zealand, so I've taken the opportunity to load some pics. It takes ages!!!

Send emails. In the midst of all this travel they are very welcome. For texters my New Zealand number is 02102506327, without the 0 and adding the NZ code.

Love to everyone. xxx Hilary

Before leaving India I headed north to Dharmsala and stayed with my friens Jeevan Kumar and his family in the Himalayan foothills. The scenery was very beautiful and the weather extremely chilly. The Dalai Lama who lives there had rather thoughtlessly gone to Italy the day I arrived, so I made do with other Tibetan lamas who were mostly busy drinking coffee or speaking on their cell phones.

Then Varanasi. What can I say... Burning ghats, Mother Theresa's hospice, The Ganges, millions of people, noise, smells, rickshaws, car horns, street food, colour, beauty and everything Slumdaog Millionaire has to leave out. Enervating, exhausting and wonderful at the same time.

Pictures hopefully to follow.

India Photographs January 2009

India January and Feb. 2009

Abandoned all plans for a regular blog when we arrived at camp in Lalsot, Rajasthan. We are right out in the desert. No shops, no other houses. We have salubrious mud huts, each with its own tap and an uncertain electricity supply. It is seriously back to basics and as the only people living near us are nomads and tribal people living in tents with their camels who live like this all of the time and have done for thousands of years, it really is like moving back into history. h uproariously at me among themselves.

Life is tough, they are seriously poor but seem to cope much better than in the cities. The local farmers grow mustard as a cash crop, it needs little water and also their own vegetables. The women seem to do most of the really hard work, digging, planting and cutting, and even in the fields they wear the most gorgeously coloured saris and look beautiful. Against the monochrome of the desert it is a riot of colour. The men are straight out of the bible, tall, erect and dressed in white dhotis and turbans. Most have fine beards or mustaches. They get to drive tractors and lead camels.

No one speaks English. The Raj is dead and gone or never reached Lalsot. Communication is difficult and its all about pointing and laughing and going with whatever happens. Our work involves painting a mural on the wall of the local school. It was filthy work and hot, but we enjoyed it and felt really pleased with the outcome. We also put on a play about under age marriage. I was the beastly mother who agreed to sell her 11 year old daughter to an ancient old fogey of 35. It was in Hindi!

600 people had climbed in over the school wall to swell the audience. After the play some old women came up to me and through an interpreter told me that this had been their story and they were visibly moved. Since then I have seen wedding parties in which little girl brides are all huddled up looking terrified in their marriage clothes.

It is clearly a man's world here. Women work all day, the men chat and play cards.

Its been a great experience. No sickness or illhealth and a lot of fun.

I know the weather has been dreadful in Ireland and all I can say is next year come and volunteer in India.

Love to you all. Keep well and send me an email from time to time. I should have better internet access in future.

Much love,

Hilary

Here are some pictures from Rajasthan.