Comparing Gandhi and Ataturk
Raising the flag in front of the statue of Gandhi at the Gandhi Museum in Madurai
The statue of Ataturk in Taksim Square, Istanbul
Mohandas Gandhi and Mustafa Kemal. Both have so much in common. They both liberated their home country (both from the British… funny), and both received a name meaning Father (Ataturk actually means Father of the Turks, but whatever). To compare these two figures, one must first know a bit about them. And I learned a lot about each as we travelled through both India and Turkey.
Originally published in Alternatives Journal Online
A field of plastic and a dead cow outside Bikaner, India
“Do you see those mounds of plastic?” our guide asks. “Each one was a cow.” Continue reading
Hard at work!
Hi everyone! I know you all have been waiting for the second part of ice cream around the world, so I am writing this. Continue reading
India never ceases to surprise: the latest Hindu temples are now kid-friendly theme parks
We’ve been four weeks in India, and the end is in sight, just a week away. Continue reading
Eva finds her prince
Eva here. When we were in Varkala in the south of India we were walking back from the beach one day. Someone was holding out flyers for something called “Kathakali”. Of course mom took the flyer. We took a quick peek inside the cultural centre where the Kathakali performance was going to be held, and we saw the performers finishing up their makeup. We didn’t have time that night to see the performance so we decided to go the next night. Continue reading
Rajasthan! The land of deserts and forts. Where to start?
After several relaxing days at Wild Haven it was time to push on. We reluctantly said goodbye to our little oasis and climbed aboard a local bus. The first hour of the journey was full of the joys that Indian bus travel affords – it was standing room only and we were jammed in with scarcely any room to move one’s feet. Chris insists he had the best spot, however, as he was right at the open back door, camera in hand, with the wind blowing in his hair. Continue reading
If we thought having our own houseboat was luxurious, we felt even more like royalty when our personal driver showed up the morning we stepped off the houseboat in Alleppey. The introductions went like this. “Hello”, he said. “You are Mister….”, (he had forgotten our names). “Yes…”, said Chris, who had already mistaken another local taxi driver for our man, and was being cautious this time. Our driver, Faizal, then rhymed off the itinerary, and we knew we had our man.
Three weeks into India and we are only now able to start processing all the sights, sounds and smells of this ancient country. Friends had warned us that it wouldn’t be easy and, well, they were right. But all in all, we wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Continue reading