An English Suburban Garden

My parents moved to their current house when I was three months old. It is in the heart of suburbia in a “well-to-do” area towards the end of the Metropolitan line on the London Underground network. Indeed the garden backs directly on to the train track and offers disturbances every few minutes.

Being brought up in the house, even now, I never notice the sound pollution, but visitors to the place cannot understand how my parents can live is such an abode. Much of it is due to their beautiful garden.

A few pictures can be found by clicking here.

Another Missed Photographic Opportunity

Ching Ching's Hangzhou eclipse photo

It is always great to catch up with family and friends, but i do miss my Dharamsala bedsit.

I know that my visa expired and I had to depart India to apply for a new visa, not to mention furthering my Masters studies in UK. However, i have missed out on a couple of classic photographic opportunities.

The solar eclipse in July was always going to be amazing. I witnessed a partial eclipse back in 2003 which was incredible in itself. The scenes in Varanasi shown on BBC World looked stunning, if somewhat dangerous. My Hong Kong movie bud Ching Ching headed off to Hangzhou for this event.

With the delaying of the monsoons in India has led to some rather amazing scenes in Bihar, one of the poorest Indian states.

Farmers have asked their unmarried daughters to plough parched fields naked in a bid to embarrass the weather gods to bring some badly needed monsoon rain, officials said on last week.
Witnesses said the naked girls ploughed the fields and chanted ancient hymns after sunset to invoke the gods. They said elderly village women helped the girls drag the ploughs.

"They (villagers) believe their acts would get the weather gods badly embarrassed, who in turn would ensure bumper crops by sending rains," Upendra Kumar, a village council official, said from Bihar's remote Banke Bazaar town.

"This is the most trusted social custom in the area and the villagers have vowed to continue this practice until it rains very heavily."

India has suffered its worst start to the vital monsoon rains in eight decades, causing drought in some states.

Another classic photographic opportunity goes begging.

The Parental Home

I have finished at Oxford and I am currently based at my parents house for most of the duration of my UK trip.

I’d be lying if i was to say it is pretty weird; clearly in their eyes their little boy is home and can’t spoil me enough. Meals are various and completely free-flowing, and i am banned from doing any household chores.

I left home for university at 18 and have thrived ever since. Naturally independent with an interest in cooking and “doing my own thing” i have not been based in Britain since 1991.

A recent survey released this week in the UK however states that one in three males (and one in five females) aged between 20 – 50 live with their parents.

One wonders if this is a question of excessive house prices, the economic recession, a pure love of their parents or just can’t be bothered to move on.

The Invasion of Painted Ladies in the UK

a Painted Lady resting up in my parents garden after it's huge migration

Millions of exotic migrants are breezing into Britain, but the tabloid press can rest easy: these new arrivals are painted lady butterflies and the only resources they will devour are nectar and thistles.

In what could be the biggest influx of butterflies into Britain in decades, millions have flown into Britain from the deserts of North Africa. Up to 18,000 were spotted sailing on the breeze across Scolt Head Island on the north Norfolk coast: 50arriving every minute according to Natural England nature reserve staff.

The mass migration began in May when large numbers were seen off Portland Bill in Dorset. Since then, UK’s highest mountains, biggest cities and thickest forests have proved no obstacle: thousands of painted ladies have turned up everywhere, from central London to Dumfries and Galloway. Several look rather pale and faded, but so would you after flapping your way here from the Atlas Mountains of Morocco.

Painted ladies reach British shores every summer, but the last major migration was in 1996. This year, rumours of an impending invasion began circulating in late winter. A Spanish scientist, Constanti Stefanescu, reported seeing hundreds of thousands of them emerging in Morocco in mid-February after heavy winter rains in North Africa triggered the germination of food plants devoured by its caterpillars.

Aided by favourable winds and unimaginable reserves of stamina, large numbers were seen in Spain during April. A few weeks later, they had reached France.

When they settle on garden flowers they are as striking as their less adventurous relatives, the red admiral and the small tortoise-shell. Certain weeds should be very afraid: painted lady caterpillars feast on thistles before emerging as an immaculate new generation of adult butterflies in August.

"It's really quite wonderful," says Matthew Oates, the National Trust's adviser on nature. "It may be that thistle-cutting or spraying is unnecessary this summer because the caterpillars will defoliate them for you."

Come September, the painted ladies will be off again: the British-born generation will begin an epic reverse trip, drawn by a mysterious calling to the hot, distant land of their mothers and fathers.

The painted lady butterflies can cover more than 2000kms in less than one month. Pretty incredible stuff.

A 60s Lovechild

Kita is your archetypal 60s Love Child. His Israeli father and German mother met in Goa on the overland trail in 1966. Born in Manali a year later, Kita spent his first eight years living in Manali, Goa and Kathmandu, before attending an Indian boarding school.

Tall, blond and blue eyed, Kita speaks fluent Hindi as well as a couple of local dialects. He speaks English with a mix of an Indian and German accent – although he has never lived in Germany. I met up with him on my recent puja in Spiti and then caught up again in Dharamsala.

His parents now live back in Europe, pissed off with the continual renewal of their Indian visas. Kita has spent the last eight years in Goa. In November last year, he was one of the first to be able to take advantage of a new law, stating that as a person born on Indian soil, he is now entitled to a permanent right of abode, land-ownership and business rights.

Witnessing the shock of the Indian-China border guards was a gem, especially as he retells the story of his new visa in Hindi.

The Shameless Diary of an Explorer by Robert Dunn

Written in 1903, Robert Dunn tells the story of a failed hike up Mount McKinley, the highest peak in North America. Led by “The Professor” Frederick Cook, described by the author as “a fearful combination of stubbornness and indecision,” the trip is doomed for failure. Dunn was a 26 year old Harvard graduate and gold prospector.

The expedition team is hastily thrown together with almost zero mountaineering experience, and Dunn is unable to hide his hatred of almost all his companions. He is also openly anti-Semitic and “Simon” the only Jewish member of the team is made to suffer at almost every turn.

The 15 horses are in poor condition even at the start of the trail and spend much of the time running away from the trekking party. Mosquitoes and gnats bombard the group who sometimes fail to travel even 5kms a day. The party fail to get above 4000 of McKinley´s 6194 metres.

Frederick Cook gained notoriety for falsely claiming to be the first explorer to reach the North Pole and the summit of McKinley.

Aub´s Verdict: Wild!

Israelis Behaving Badly

Whenever one travels abroad, whether we like we like it or not, we become ambassadors for our country of origin. Even though I have been in a self-imposed exile from Britain for almost 20 years, I am seen as an Englishman and I am judged accordingly. Invariably, “where are you from?” is the first question asked – or indeed “what is the name of your good country?” on the Indian sub-continent.

Now don´t get me wrong, some of my favourite cousins are Israeli. However the hordes going around town are a complete nightmare at times. Like so many towns in Asia and, more selectively, in South America, Hebrew signs can be found on the streets. Many of the restaurants here offer “Israeli salad” and hummus. I´ve even found falafel on the menu in an Indian restaurant! A real home away from home.

Loud, boisterous and cliquey, they show few manners or respect to locals or other travellers. At the Dalai Lama´s teachers they are often without transistor radios and are thus unable to hear the translations provided. Thus somewhat bored, they regularly shout to each other during the proceedings irrespective that others are trying to follow the teachings.

Fortunately, most Israelis prefer to ghettoise themselves in Bhagsu, 4kms out of town, but often descend to Mcleod Ganj´s excellent restaurants. They often seem intent on promoting anti-Semitism wherever they go!

Most Israeli travellers have come straight out of the army and, understandably, intent on having a good time. Sometimes too much! A group of mum’s in Israel are putting pressure on both Indian and Thai governments to tighten up visa access. Too many Israeli travellers have returned to Israel with drug habits and/or psychotic neurosis. Good on these Israeli mums! To assist this new political lobbyists, the Indian government will only issue one six month visa per year to an individual Israeli.

Personally, I am trying to be more empathetic with these travellers for I cannot imagine the pain and suffering of being forced to be conscripted to do military service.

I await your comments and abuse!

Communicating Abroad

Back in March I drew reference to Paolo Coelho where he claims that we don´t need to speak the same language to communicate when we are travelling.

Like the true Brit that I am, my foreign Language skills are minimal. I have a few Cantonese phrases that I can use in Hong Kong, a few Hindi words and crappy Spanish (I can understand South American Spanish quite well, but my spoken Espanol is shite!). And I certainly don´t speak any Himalayan dialects.

Yet, whilst hanging out in Keylong, I came across a large group of women (about eight aged between 30 -50 years old) sitting out on the roadside near the communal water-pump. Now in neighbouring Pakistan, in any small village, town or city, it is a very common sight to come across men “just hanging out”; never women. Even in India, it is quite unusual.

I ask them if I can take their photograph and they agree in a giggly sort of way. I keep up the blather as I take five or six photos in quick succession, and they are keen on seeing the results. I pass the camera around so they can see the results in the monitor. I tell them they are too beautiful, and this word is clearly recognised by one of these women who translates it for the rest of group. Much hilarity. One of the women starts touching up my ever-present silver bangle and she asks if I can give it her as a present. No, it is for my wife I say pointing to an invisible wedding band. Even more hilarity at this one, and a couple of ladies are obviously sharing a couple of crude comments. I blush furiously, which causes even more laughter.

This exchange lasts about 20 minutes and we understand each other perfectly.

Heading to London

It´s will soon be time to revisit the spires of Oxford for my dissertation tutorials. Actually, as the university is Oxford Brookes, it is modelled on a 1960´s sanatorium in some field outside the attractive City of Learning.

This trip ties in nicely with the renewal of my Indian visa. Hassle, but necessary. Surely the embassy in London is more organised than Kathmandu? I´ll let you know – I am flying to London on Sunday for five weeks.

I love London; I still have a lot of family and friends in UK, but I am scheduled to be there for over a month – more than two weeks longer than I usually can bare. Gulp! Expecting to frazzle!

Blogs will no doubt be sporadic, but tweets will be common. You can sign up for Twitter from Ketchup with Aubs

I´m heading to Delhi tonight and will arrive in London on Sunday evening.