The rest of my time in Sydney raced by far too quickly. I met up with many old, friendly faces. Some new mates appeared as if my magic, like Emma who was visiting from Mumbai. She and Cam were robbed in Geneva and she lost her passports and visas. She had to come back to Oz to get a new Indian visa, so we had a mini Mumbai reunion with her gorgeous mate Reesh.
Funny how fidelity is a theme that keeps popping up of late. Ems and I had a long chat about it and I just saw a play that explored its importance. More on that later though.
The uber talented Ian Darling kindly agreed to make some space for us to meet, despite the fact that he's deep in pre production on a 20 minute fiction short (he usually makes docs) that he has written, is directing and producing. He was inspired by the intricately twisted stories of the people he met when making his most recent documentary for the ABC called THE OASIS. It's an incredible film about street kids and a wonderful man called Paul (and his devoted wife) who runs a drop in centre in the middle of Sydney with the Salvos. It's extraordinary.
Ian is very humble about his achievements, but Rachael has roped him into doing a Friday On My Mind, which I'm sure will be great. He starts shooting his film very soon and I wish him and his crew the very best. Thanks for the lift Ian. He dropped me off after our meet at The Pier. My golly gosh what a fantabulous restaurant. I was treated to the most delicious meal in beautiful Rose Bay. Talk about spoilt rotten!!
The next morning I woke up Phillip Adams, who is such an old friend of my father's. They used to be the closest of colleagues and friends, and though they hardly see each other anymore, the bond is SO strong. We had agreed a time that surprised me (9.30am) as he does a late night radio show, but after ringing and ringing the bell he answered and looked utterly shattered. I told him all about my Legacy idea and the various things I'm working on and he couldn't have been more supportive. It's so encouraging to get such positive feedback, across the board, but from someone who has spent his life interviewing people and delving into real life stories, it was fascinating to get his take on how the idea might develop.
I left Phillip's incredible pad (he's into Egyptology so the house is filled with astounding figures and spears and knick knacks) with such a spring in my step, and wound my way through Paddington and into a beautiful park and somehow ended up in Rushcutters Bay. I'm always amazed when I make it where I'm supposed to be going. I have such a hideous sense of direction, so must have a map with me at all times. My worst habit it getting out of stations and talking on the phone and just walking a million miles an hour whilst chatting and not knowing where the hell I'm going. I suddenly realise that I'm utterly lost and hang up in a panic. Not an ideal habit!
Anyway, lunch was with the heavenly Murray Bell who runs Semi Permanent - a design conference that is finally coming to Melbourne later this year. He and I met through my great mate Jeremy Boxer in London and it's been fun keeping tabs on how Murray and Semi P have developed. We had a munch in the sunshine with his divine dog Bo snuffling around us.
That night I had the best fun hooning around town saying goodbye to everyone. I ended up at a random party somewhere called The Club where I danced around with a bunch of the best girls. Thank you Christine, Alice and Clare for going the distance. Not to mention everyone else who made it a wonderful send off for me. You're all gorgeous and Jo, you're so right that Icebergs is divine. I also had a ball at Darlo Bar. It brought back so many memories of when I was last in Sydney.
Sigh! Wish I had the energy to fill you in on marvellous Melbourne and what's been going on since my return but I leave that for next time. You'll have to wait to hear about the breathtaking ANZAC dawn service, the hideous Collywobbles, Hame's birthday bash, Caroline's play and more....the Logies are this Sunday. You should see the shoes I bought today for the occasion.
Lxxxx
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
ROCKING SYDNEY & THE ASTRAS
Sydney is such a blast. I absolutely adore this stunning city!I've been welcomed back with open arms by so many old friends and colleagues. After some initial sunshine there has been quite a bit of crazy, tropical rain but nothing can dampen my spirits right now.
Tony Barber took me to the ASTRA awards on the Fox lot. Unfortunately his divine wife Helen has been unwell, so I got to be his date!! He is not only one of the nicest men on the planet, but he's an incredible host. He knew so many interesting people and was in attendance representing TV1, who he does a lot of work for. They had a tranche of nominations, mainly for their program STUPID, STUPID MEN.
TV1 walked off with quite a few awards, so our tables got very happy. Why there have to be quite so many awards at these things I'll never know and they're always baking hot, but lots of fun. Peter Hudson (CEO of TV1) was our host and what a lovely man he is. I was lucky to be amidst a great crew and we had pole position of the main stage. One problem was that during the award presentations or performances, the waiters weren't allowed to serve booze. So we had to keep racing behind the curtain to get more wine, I crossed paths with many fun people behind the velvet curtains.
I loved the cast of MEN, particularly Leah Vandenberg who looked gorgeous in her traditional Indian dress. Of course we immediately connected about India (she's of Sri Lankan descent) and swapped many stories. Matthew Newton was racing about looking dashing and of course Tone's known him via his father Bert since he was a wee tot. Wayne Hope and I chatted over the course of the eve, I was curious that after he won the award for Best Perf by a Male Actor (beating Matt) he then got up and gave a scathing attack on Pay TV. It was funny at times, but a bit surprising given that the room was full of the top execs with fat (tish) pay cheques.
When we walked the red carpet, we chatted to the divine Miss M - that's Madga Szubanski - who looked glorious in a tight black dress, Marilyn Monroe hair and red lips. Her tap dancing routine on stage was the highlight of the night. She was presenting with Wayne during his diatribe and looked a touch surprised, but handled it well. I guess those nights need a bit of a shake up, but I doubt it will make it into the telecast later this week.
The opening number was a raucous routine by a gang of Stomp dancers. They were incredible - so energetic and fun, banging on garbage cans New York style. At the after party, I had a lovely chat to Alison Whyte (heavenly redhead) who won the Best Perf by a Female Actor for her role in the saucy SATISFACTION, caught up with Peter O'Brien after many many years (we met via the gorgeous Lisa Hensley years ago at Notting Hill Carnival) and then made a bee line for the Stomp dancers, who were carving up the dance floor. Sorry Troy, loved your breakdancing moves but I had to hit the hay!
I must mention my wonderful friend Rachael Turk who left her post as Editor of Inside Film (one of the top Aussie film mags) to pursue her own projects at the end of last year. She's hosting these brilliant nights at the AFTRS (Australia's best film school) called Friday On My Mind. I went to the last one to support her and thought it was excellent. They've got a session on SAMPSON & DELILAH coming up, which is an incredible film. It is a modern, fucked up Romeo & Juliet story, that's set in an Aboriginal township outside Alice Springs. I must say, it made me proud to come back to an industry that funds films such as this. It got major buzz at the Adelaide Film Festival, where MY YEAR WITHOUT SEX (the wonderful director Sarah Watt's new film, which Andy B has also invested in) opened the festival.
I'm also fascinated to see that there is a doc that's in post at the moment called INTO THE SHADOWS. It's about the Aussie industry and what's wrong with it. They interviewed Rachael for the film, along with BALIBO's Rob Connelly, Bruce Beresford and many more luminaries from the industry. They're exploring why audiences just don't respond (particularly in Oz) to Aussie films. There is rarely more than one break out (internationally) film a year and there should be more. It's strange, because audiences really remember the good films that have catapulted into our consciousness (KENNY & WOLF CREEK are probably the most successful of late but LANTANA, THE CASTLE, MURIEL'S WEDDING, PRISCILLA & STRICTLY BALLROOM are some of the best films made anywhere, anytime) and think the industry must be robust.
There are some good moves being made, for example I read that this year there are over 40 features coming out in Oz (almost one a week) and that's double the last few years, directly due to tax breaks. There are obviously many, many more being produced but those are films with distribution deals and that are on exhibitors' slates. I can't wait to see how people respond to Wayne Thornton's SAMPSON & DELILAH as it's a tough watch and sell, but it's pure poetry. I saw a preview screening with Andy, Matt Hearn (Producer of ROGUE, WOLF CREEK) and Julius Avery (whose short JERRYCAN has won so many accolades, particularly the Special Jury Prize in Cannes last year where I met him) and we were all blown away.
So if you get the chance to go to Rachael's Friday on My Mind or can seek out S&D, I say go and support our industry. I must get on the road as I've got lots of people to see before I leave on Friday.
Ahhh, the sun has just come out.
Divine.
Sunday, 19 April 2009
SHOOTING STARS IN RURAL OZ
What a way to fall back in love with one’s country. Just hit the road and immerse yourself in the landscape. And the people.
For my first project, I’ve been lucky enough to be invited into the fold of a close knit family who after a bit of cajoling, opened up to the camera like a bunch of pros. My first Aussie client for Legacy is a fascinatingly diverse Catholic family who are spread around Victoria and over the boarder into NSW.
The matriarch of the family had 14 children of which 12 survived and she now has 31 grandchildren. I’m making the film with her eldest grandchild, who is a very old friend of mine, Andrew Barlow.
His father John is the eldest sibling and luckily he was there over Easter to vouch for me. Which made a huge difference. Having known him for about 20 years, I guess mutual respect was evident and that allowed for his gorgeous Mum and fascinating siblings to trust me. Though they took a bit of convincing, some more than others, we managed to get a huge amount of footage and interviews done.
It was such a different experience for me, as usually I interview filmmakers about their projects and though we may talk about challenging things, it’s overall pretty positive. I have never had to deal with uncomfortable emotions. And the tears flowed, freely at times and tough memories were aired. It was a humbling and fascinating experience. I had to really stop myself from trying to console people and letting that raw emotion flow for the camera.
I’ve seen it on film sets. I’ve cried watching actors’ emotions come flooding out during a scene. I’ll never forget shooting Penelope Cruz and Rhys Ifans in the Isle of Man (very glamorous!!!). They knocked the whole crew’s socks off. Watching real professionals like that batting words at each other, it’s like witnessing top violinists playing a duet. It’s poetry in motion, cheesy but true.
I think because we were planning this as a test shoot and we weren’t sure how the Barlow clan would react, Andy’s and my expectations were pretty low. We planned to get lots of B Roll and background filler, perhaps one or two interviews, particularly with his Nana. But in the end, they were almost lining up to talk. It was truly an incredible experience. As it was Easter weekend, with its religious significance and because it’s a time when family come together, we just hit a sweet spot or something. But everyone opened up to the camera and blew us away with their honesty.
What a beautiful camera we hired for the shoot. Thanks to the guys at Video Australasia and to Hamish, Campbell Knott and Jeremy Boxer for all their advice. The Sony EX1 records High Def footage straight onto PC cards or a hard drive. This allows you to download the footage direct to your computer. If you have a MacBook Pro, the card slots right into the express slot and away you go at around 8 x real time.
Though of course it wasn’t that simple. We had a variety of technical hitches but luckily Andy has a techno brain, so he did battle and mostly won.
The footage looks beautiful. I can’t wait to go over it all and plan our next shoot. It’s dependent on various schedules but hopefully we might even get in some more shoot days before Cannes in May. It’s gutting that BALIBO didn’t get into the final selection. They’d got such a great reaction from one of the programmers, but there are some strong Aussie films this year.
I know that Rob Connelly, BALIBO’s talented Director, is still fine tuning the film. I can’t wait to see it. Though I haven’t been involved at all, Andy is an Exec Producer and feels very connected to the people and the project after spending time on set and getting his film hands dirty. It sounds like the East Timor section of the shoot was incredible and changed the lives of many people involved.
Check out this link to see Rob talking about it and a few sneak peaks.
Working on a film set is an experience that’s hard to describe to people who have never been near one. If you ever do visit, it seems like nothing is happening and then there are short bursts of intense activity when you ‘turn over’. But if you’re working on one, you know that every minute of every day the crew is trying to align all the moveable parts, all the myriad elements such as light, wardrobe, actors, design, props, make up etc. etc. etc. With crews that can surpass 100 people, it takes time to get each section in place and move forward as a team.
But on a good set, it fast becomes like a family. You form such intense friendships and it’s like you’re in a world all of your own. A bubble. That noone can touch or understand. It’s a crazy life, as sometimes it can be hard to get back to your ‘real life’ after each film. I’m not sure how healthy it all is, but if the elements are right (and filmmaking is true alchemy) it can be an incredibly enriching experience. Or it can be a nightmare!
Anyway, I’m up in Sydney at the moment and have lots to write about that but must save it for the next instalment. I’m heading to the ASTRA Awards with the wonderful Tony Barber. Pity I can’t wear my killer heels, but I’ve got a great frock and am getting myself all glammed up. The dress code is ‘sophisticated’ so I’m interested to see what the Sydney world of television comes up with. Will be a bit different from the BIFAs and the BAFTAs I’m sure. More soon.
For my first project, I’ve been lucky enough to be invited into the fold of a close knit family who after a bit of cajoling, opened up to the camera like a bunch of pros. My first Aussie client for Legacy is a fascinatingly diverse Catholic family who are spread around Victoria and over the boarder into NSW.
The matriarch of the family had 14 children of which 12 survived and she now has 31 grandchildren. I’m making the film with her eldest grandchild, who is a very old friend of mine, Andrew Barlow.
His father John is the eldest sibling and luckily he was there over Easter to vouch for me. Which made a huge difference. Having known him for about 20 years, I guess mutual respect was evident and that allowed for his gorgeous Mum and fascinating siblings to trust me. Though they took a bit of convincing, some more than others, we managed to get a huge amount of footage and interviews done.
It was such a different experience for me, as usually I interview filmmakers about their projects and though we may talk about challenging things, it’s overall pretty positive. I have never had to deal with uncomfortable emotions. And the tears flowed, freely at times and tough memories were aired. It was a humbling and fascinating experience. I had to really stop myself from trying to console people and letting that raw emotion flow for the camera.
I’ve seen it on film sets. I’ve cried watching actors’ emotions come flooding out during a scene. I’ll never forget shooting Penelope Cruz and Rhys Ifans in the Isle of Man (very glamorous!!!). They knocked the whole crew’s socks off. Watching real professionals like that batting words at each other, it’s like witnessing top violinists playing a duet. It’s poetry in motion, cheesy but true.
I think because we were planning this as a test shoot and we weren’t sure how the Barlow clan would react, Andy’s and my expectations were pretty low. We planned to get lots of B Roll and background filler, perhaps one or two interviews, particularly with his Nana. But in the end, they were almost lining up to talk. It was truly an incredible experience. As it was Easter weekend, with its religious significance and because it’s a time when family come together, we just hit a sweet spot or something. But everyone opened up to the camera and blew us away with their honesty.
What a beautiful camera we hired for the shoot. Thanks to the guys at Video Australasia and to Hamish, Campbell Knott and Jeremy Boxer for all their advice. The Sony EX1 records High Def footage straight onto PC cards or a hard drive. This allows you to download the footage direct to your computer. If you have a MacBook Pro, the card slots right into the express slot and away you go at around 8 x real time.
Though of course it wasn’t that simple. We had a variety of technical hitches but luckily Andy has a techno brain, so he did battle and mostly won.
The footage looks beautiful. I can’t wait to go over it all and plan our next shoot. It’s dependent on various schedules but hopefully we might even get in some more shoot days before Cannes in May. It’s gutting that BALIBO didn’t get into the final selection. They’d got such a great reaction from one of the programmers, but there are some strong Aussie films this year.
I know that Rob Connelly, BALIBO’s talented Director, is still fine tuning the film. I can’t wait to see it. Though I haven’t been involved at all, Andy is an Exec Producer and feels very connected to the people and the project after spending time on set and getting his film hands dirty. It sounds like the East Timor section of the shoot was incredible and changed the lives of many people involved.
Check out this link to see Rob talking about it and a few sneak peaks.
Working on a film set is an experience that’s hard to describe to people who have never been near one. If you ever do visit, it seems like nothing is happening and then there are short bursts of intense activity when you ‘turn over’. But if you’re working on one, you know that every minute of every day the crew is trying to align all the moveable parts, all the myriad elements such as light, wardrobe, actors, design, props, make up etc. etc. etc. With crews that can surpass 100 people, it takes time to get each section in place and move forward as a team.
But on a good set, it fast becomes like a family. You form such intense friendships and it’s like you’re in a world all of your own. A bubble. That noone can touch or understand. It’s a crazy life, as sometimes it can be hard to get back to your ‘real life’ after each film. I’m not sure how healthy it all is, but if the elements are right (and filmmaking is true alchemy) it can be an incredibly enriching experience. Or it can be a nightmare!
Anyway, I’m up in Sydney at the moment and have lots to write about that but must save it for the next instalment. I’m heading to the ASTRA Awards with the wonderful Tony Barber. Pity I can’t wear my killer heels, but I’ve got a great frock and am getting myself all glammed up. The dress code is ‘sophisticated’ so I’m interested to see what the Sydney world of television comes up with. Will be a bit different from the BIFAs and the BAFTAs I’m sure. More soon.
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
MY CUP RUNNETH OVER
Sorry for my silence.
It's been a month since I left the sunny shores of India for the distant shores of another. Australia. Home? I still call it that.
It's 3am and yet again I'm wide awake at an ungodly hour. It's not jet lag. It's just mayhem inside my head right now. I'm like a battery that has been fully charged and keeps turning itself on ready to go, go, go.
Since my return, so much has happened. I am amazed that my old friends can even remember me, I've been away so long, but some loyal friends (too many to mention but it's just heaven getting to know everyone again as adults and to meet their children and husbands - my heavenly godchild Mila must get a special mention) and my divine family have helped me to feel welcome and missed. It's a wonderful thing, being loved. And those friendships that go back 20 and even some 30 years, are golden. Truly.
There have been a lot of dramas. My gorgeous brother broke up with his lady on my first night back. My lovely cousin has had neurosurgery and can't walk further than 10 steps yet, which makes it hard for her 1 year old daughter not to mention her husband, mother..... A great friend from London has found out that her mother is terminally ill and is battling to get back to her side. That is every Aussie's nightmare who lives half a world away. My tenants have had similar news and have had to return to New Zealand. One of my father's school friends keeled over at 70 on the golf course and died of a stroke.......I could go on and on. It's real life. Adult life.
What I realise now, more than ever, is how important family is. And in that department, anyone who knows me, my little bro and my parents (not to mention my uncles, aunts and cousins) would agree that I am more than blessed.
I have only been back to Oz 3 times in the last decade. I have been living away from the nucleus of my family (though they have visited me as often as they could) for 12 years. 12 years! How did that happen? It is undeniable that time marches on with a vengeance.
I arrived in Mumbai under a cloud of terrorist fire and smoke. To Victoria, I arrived amidst a deluge of bush fires and a state emergency of a different kind. This country is vast and vicious when it wants to be. Life here is not as simple as one might think. This island is tough and rough and heaven all at once.
While floods devastated Queensland, bushfires raged in Victoria. How nuts is that? As most people would know by now, there were 5 or so days where the temperature soared over 40 degrees celsius (way over 100 degrees fahrenheit) and even reached 45 on the last day. The winds picked up something awful and unthinkable though it is, people dropped cigarette butts, arsonists did the sickest thing you can imagine and nature did even worse. The combination was explosive. Whole towns were completely razed. The radiant heat could kill you long before the fire reached your house. Whole families were burnt to cinders. The fire was unpredictable and unstoppable. It just jumped the Hume Highway like it was a dirt track. That's like jumping the M3. Seriously.
So, I returned to a country where the oldest form of terror was reigning. Pure survival. I witnessed it bring out the very best in everyone. I was so proud to be home. So proud of my Aussie roots, despite my somewhat Pommi-fied accent. Thankfully, my kin were safe but like when the Twin Towers went down, everyone knows someone effected. The stories that have emerged are often hideous and often inspiring.
Last time I tried to live in Oz, it was 9 years ago. I felt suffocated in Melbourne and went up to Sydney to give it a try. Now don't get me wrong, I love Sydney. I'm not one of those Melbournians who turns up their noses at that brash, beautiful city. But I was disgusted when the Cronulla riots broke out between the Aussie surfer dudes and the Lebanese boys. It was the worst side of Australia. Racism is the ugliest of sins. Unfortunately pig ignorance is not confined to the rednecks of America. I got on the plane back to London with a huge sigh of relief.
This time I'm doing my utmost to not offend my loved ones again. Or my country. And Aussies are extremely proud of their country. Don't you just love being here? Too bloody right you should be. Isn't it just the best? What you been doing over in Pommie land so long? What's with your accent? Who the hell do you think you are?
'Faaark you babe.'
That's the exact text I woke up to, shortly after my return. It made me laugh so hard. My family's Aussie rules team (the Mighty Maggies a.k.a. Collingwood) had beaten one of our old rivals (Essendon). Then we were creamed, seriously beaten to a pulp in the pre-season final. When one of my mates texted me that the Pies were shit. I retorted, what does that make the Bombers if we beat you last week? The above was his response.
Ahhhh Aussie rules footie. What fun it is to watch again, though I'm a bit rusty on all the rules and tactics, it is a joy. Even when being beaten by Geelong. I dragged a London visitor straight off the aeroplane to the new Etihad Stadium and into the throng of mega thousands of Aussies (mostly male, many bogans, mostly divine!). Although she'd never seen a match before, she had a ball. Ha!
It's great having Johanna here, as there are still so many parts of Melbs that I haven't revisited. She adored the coast, where my parents are based. Having her here, almost feels like I'm still on holiday. Though our days are packed and I've got a lot of responsibilities to fulfil, she is such a good friend that it's working out well. Johanna is someone I met through the film industry in London and I'm honoured that our friendship has become so much more.
The film industry here is scared, but forging on (like most industries right now I guess). The recession has really hit, as the bushfires have finally gone out and the rains have come. Everyone is now back to reality. And the reality is harsh. Half of Toorak, our poshest suburb - Chelsea equivalent - is owned by the banks. I know many people out of work and terrified about their future.
There has been SO much money in Melbourne, (everywhere I turn there's a Rolls Royce it seems), there are a lot of young people who just thought that life was always a bed of roses. They don't have survival skills. It's really scary. But also challenging and fascinating and terrifying.
I am resolute to move forward with my new company Legacy and it's taking shape. I want to help families record their history - on film, on tape or on line. It's getting such a positive response and I have my first client. He is a very old friend who is making his way into films and we're in talks about some other projects too. Plus I have other irons in other fires and it seems that I'm committing myself to stay. Shhhh.
Everyone's first question is always - How long are you here for? And my response has been, I'm just seeing how it fits, no promises for now. I don't want to disappoint or offend anyone again and I need to be where the work is. My round the world ticket takes me to LA - NYC - London but it's valid until November.
Thank god my beloved brother has taken me under his wing and given me his spare room. I feel like the little sister! Thank god my parents are the kindest people on earth - so supportive and generous. I feel incredibly lucky to have some time to work things out. So many people don't have that breathing space. I worked like crazy up until the last minute I departed London.
Having proper time out in India was true bliss. I haven't felt that sort of freedom in forever. I let go of technology, guilt, baggage, worry, night terrors, fear and so much more. It's indescribable the difference I feel within myself. Life is too short to carry all that shit around.
Back here, I'm doing my utmost to channel the freedom and resolve that I used to recharge my weary soul. I want my life to be worthwhile. Australia is an incredible country. It's not perfect. But neither am I.
Lx
It's been a month since I left the sunny shores of India for the distant shores of another. Australia. Home? I still call it that.
It's 3am and yet again I'm wide awake at an ungodly hour. It's not jet lag. It's just mayhem inside my head right now. I'm like a battery that has been fully charged and keeps turning itself on ready to go, go, go.
Since my return, so much has happened. I am amazed that my old friends can even remember me, I've been away so long, but some loyal friends (too many to mention but it's just heaven getting to know everyone again as adults and to meet their children and husbands - my heavenly godchild Mila must get a special mention) and my divine family have helped me to feel welcome and missed. It's a wonderful thing, being loved. And those friendships that go back 20 and even some 30 years, are golden. Truly.
There have been a lot of dramas. My gorgeous brother broke up with his lady on my first night back. My lovely cousin has had neurosurgery and can't walk further than 10 steps yet, which makes it hard for her 1 year old daughter not to mention her husband, mother..... A great friend from London has found out that her mother is terminally ill and is battling to get back to her side. That is every Aussie's nightmare who lives half a world away. My tenants have had similar news and have had to return to New Zealand. One of my father's school friends keeled over at 70 on the golf course and died of a stroke.......I could go on and on. It's real life. Adult life.
What I realise now, more than ever, is how important family is. And in that department, anyone who knows me, my little bro and my parents (not to mention my uncles, aunts and cousins) would agree that I am more than blessed.
I have only been back to Oz 3 times in the last decade. I have been living away from the nucleus of my family (though they have visited me as often as they could) for 12 years. 12 years! How did that happen? It is undeniable that time marches on with a vengeance.
I arrived in Mumbai under a cloud of terrorist fire and smoke. To Victoria, I arrived amidst a deluge of bush fires and a state emergency of a different kind. This country is vast and vicious when it wants to be. Life here is not as simple as one might think. This island is tough and rough and heaven all at once.
While floods devastated Queensland, bushfires raged in Victoria. How nuts is that? As most people would know by now, there were 5 or so days where the temperature soared over 40 degrees celsius (way over 100 degrees fahrenheit) and even reached 45 on the last day. The winds picked up something awful and unthinkable though it is, people dropped cigarette butts, arsonists did the sickest thing you can imagine and nature did even worse. The combination was explosive. Whole towns were completely razed. The radiant heat could kill you long before the fire reached your house. Whole families were burnt to cinders. The fire was unpredictable and unstoppable. It just jumped the Hume Highway like it was a dirt track. That's like jumping the M3. Seriously.
So, I returned to a country where the oldest form of terror was reigning. Pure survival. I witnessed it bring out the very best in everyone. I was so proud to be home. So proud of my Aussie roots, despite my somewhat Pommi-fied accent. Thankfully, my kin were safe but like when the Twin Towers went down, everyone knows someone effected. The stories that have emerged are often hideous and often inspiring.
Last time I tried to live in Oz, it was 9 years ago. I felt suffocated in Melbourne and went up to Sydney to give it a try. Now don't get me wrong, I love Sydney. I'm not one of those Melbournians who turns up their noses at that brash, beautiful city. But I was disgusted when the Cronulla riots broke out between the Aussie surfer dudes and the Lebanese boys. It was the worst side of Australia. Racism is the ugliest of sins. Unfortunately pig ignorance is not confined to the rednecks of America. I got on the plane back to London with a huge sigh of relief.
This time I'm doing my utmost to not offend my loved ones again. Or my country. And Aussies are extremely proud of their country. Don't you just love being here? Too bloody right you should be. Isn't it just the best? What you been doing over in Pommie land so long? What's with your accent? Who the hell do you think you are?
'Faaark you babe.'
That's the exact text I woke up to, shortly after my return. It made me laugh so hard. My family's Aussie rules team (the Mighty Maggies a.k.a. Collingwood) had beaten one of our old rivals (Essendon). Then we were creamed, seriously beaten to a pulp in the pre-season final. When one of my mates texted me that the Pies were shit. I retorted, what does that make the Bombers if we beat you last week? The above was his response.
Ahhhh Aussie rules footie. What fun it is to watch again, though I'm a bit rusty on all the rules and tactics, it is a joy. Even when being beaten by Geelong. I dragged a London visitor straight off the aeroplane to the new Etihad Stadium and into the throng of mega thousands of Aussies (mostly male, many bogans, mostly divine!). Although she'd never seen a match before, she had a ball. Ha!
It's great having Johanna here, as there are still so many parts of Melbs that I haven't revisited. She adored the coast, where my parents are based. Having her here, almost feels like I'm still on holiday. Though our days are packed and I've got a lot of responsibilities to fulfil, she is such a good friend that it's working out well. Johanna is someone I met through the film industry in London and I'm honoured that our friendship has become so much more.
The film industry here is scared, but forging on (like most industries right now I guess). The recession has really hit, as the bushfires have finally gone out and the rains have come. Everyone is now back to reality. And the reality is harsh. Half of Toorak, our poshest suburb - Chelsea equivalent - is owned by the banks. I know many people out of work and terrified about their future.
There has been SO much money in Melbourne, (everywhere I turn there's a Rolls Royce it seems), there are a lot of young people who just thought that life was always a bed of roses. They don't have survival skills. It's really scary. But also challenging and fascinating and terrifying.
I am resolute to move forward with my new company Legacy and it's taking shape. I want to help families record their history - on film, on tape or on line. It's getting such a positive response and I have my first client. He is a very old friend who is making his way into films and we're in talks about some other projects too. Plus I have other irons in other fires and it seems that I'm committing myself to stay. Shhhh.
Everyone's first question is always - How long are you here for? And my response has been, I'm just seeing how it fits, no promises for now. I don't want to disappoint or offend anyone again and I need to be where the work is. My round the world ticket takes me to LA - NYC - London but it's valid until November.
Thank god my beloved brother has taken me under his wing and given me his spare room. I feel like the little sister! Thank god my parents are the kindest people on earth - so supportive and generous. I feel incredibly lucky to have some time to work things out. So many people don't have that breathing space. I worked like crazy up until the last minute I departed London.
Having proper time out in India was true bliss. I haven't felt that sort of freedom in forever. I let go of technology, guilt, baggage, worry, night terrors, fear and so much more. It's indescribable the difference I feel within myself. Life is too short to carry all that shit around.
Back here, I'm doing my utmost to channel the freedom and resolve that I used to recharge my weary soul. I want my life to be worthwhile. Australia is an incredible country. It's not perfect. But neither am I.
Lx
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
THIS IS MY LAST GOODBYE
It's taken me a while to catch my breath. Sorry for the silence but I needed to let my last week in India wash over me. It is intoxicating and irresistible to me, though I know some might disagree I truly feel that this is the most inspiring and rewarding country on earth.
I arrived back in Bombay feeling slightly smug that I'd made it around India without catching what most travellers succumb to. You've heard the horror stories I'm sure. I had a gorgeous welcome back girlie eve with Emma, (Cam is still working like a dog, but has made leaps and bounds with his missions here and is rightfully proud, as am I), and laid down on my bed aching for sleep. A few short hours later I was awoken by a volcano in my belly and spent the whole night trying not to pass out on the floor of the bathroom. You get my drift.
When I wobbled out of my room at 7am, white as a sheet, Cam laughed and said, "Your trip wouldn't have been complete without getting properly sick!" True perhaps, but not ideal with Tomer making his way to Bombay to meet me that afternoon and a nice hotel all booked. Hmmmm.
Hallelujah for the Ayurvedic medicine that a kind friend recommended. For anyone who travels in India, leave your western medicine behind and go straight to an Ayurvedic doctor. I had recovered (mostly) by the time Tomer and I met up. And we've just had a gorgeous end to both our trips to India. I'm writing this from an internet cafe in Churchgate and I have about 6 hours left of my time in India.
Varanasi (Benares) has had a HUGE affect on me. Perhaps it's because I saved it for the last stretch of my trip, or because by the time I arrived I'd heard so many amazing stories and had already given myself over to the rhythmn of India. But nothing can prepare you for this ancient, mystical, dark city.
So many times during my time there (too short) me, and the travellers I met, tried to put into words how we were feeling about Varanasi. Without fail, the conversation would trail off into a sort of stunned, shared silence. The best way I can describe it (physically) is like Jerusalem crossed with Venice. It truly feels like time stands still there, like it has for centuries. It is known as Kashi, the city of light, with good reason.
It is a brutal place. Death does a constant dance right in front of you. In your face. There are bodies burning, right on the banks of the river. But the beauty and the sacred depth of the place do outweigh the filth, the decay and the seething underbelly. The people I met there were incredible. The emotions I felt there were deep. It cut through me and then sewed me back up again.
Despite moving abodes twice when I last wrote to you, I decided to move one more time back to the previously full guest house that had been recommended to me by Nichole. When I returned to check it out, Ashish insisted I move in. He gave me a room for 180 rupees (two pounds fifty) that overlooked the Ganga. Though small and extremely basic, it was a true haven.
Bizarrely, when I went to visit him for tea, Tomer called and said I must go and stay at Kedar Ghat. When I told him that I was sitting at Shiva International Lodge in Kedar, he replied that his guest house was the one directly on top of it. That clinched it. I returned to Vishnu, packed by bag for the gazillioneth time and made my way along the Ganga dodging touts and the detritus that will catch you unawares, if you don't look down.
At Shiva, I met a gaggle of Frenchies, Israelis, Brits, Brazillians, Russians and a Greek guy. Most speak at least 3 languages and play at least 3 instruments. Humbling to say the least. We had some heavenly music sessions. Just outside the guest house door was the best bead maker in Varanasi, Bandu, and a chai stand run by Ravi.
I had a glorious few days exploring the town, in particular the day that I met my new friend, a talented fashion designer called Nichola who is from Canada and lives in Italia. He introduced me to his wonderfully bright and mischievous guide Kishore and we spent an incredible day exploring the back streets of Varanasi. I just don't have the energy to describe the whole day right now, but the highlight has to be the wrestlers we went to visit, who were visibly shocked to have a woman in their compound. I hope you like the photo of me and the guys (to come)!!!
I arrived back in Bombay feeling slightly smug that I'd made it around India without catching what most travellers succumb to. You've heard the horror stories I'm sure. I had a gorgeous welcome back girlie eve with Emma, (Cam is still working like a dog, but has made leaps and bounds with his missions here and is rightfully proud, as am I), and laid down on my bed aching for sleep. A few short hours later I was awoken by a volcano in my belly and spent the whole night trying not to pass out on the floor of the bathroom. You get my drift.
When I wobbled out of my room at 7am, white as a sheet, Cam laughed and said, "Your trip wouldn't have been complete without getting properly sick!" True perhaps, but not ideal with Tomer making his way to Bombay to meet me that afternoon and a nice hotel all booked. Hmmmm.
Hallelujah for the Ayurvedic medicine that a kind friend recommended. For anyone who travels in India, leave your western medicine behind and go straight to an Ayurvedic doctor. I had recovered (mostly) by the time Tomer and I met up. And we've just had a gorgeous end to both our trips to India. I'm writing this from an internet cafe in Churchgate and I have about 6 hours left of my time in India.
Varanasi (Benares) has had a HUGE affect on me. Perhaps it's because I saved it for the last stretch of my trip, or because by the time I arrived I'd heard so many amazing stories and had already given myself over to the rhythmn of India. But nothing can prepare you for this ancient, mystical, dark city.
So many times during my time there (too short) me, and the travellers I met, tried to put into words how we were feeling about Varanasi. Without fail, the conversation would trail off into a sort of stunned, shared silence. The best way I can describe it (physically) is like Jerusalem crossed with Venice. It truly feels like time stands still there, like it has for centuries. It is known as Kashi, the city of light, with good reason.
It is a brutal place. Death does a constant dance right in front of you. In your face. There are bodies burning, right on the banks of the river. But the beauty and the sacred depth of the place do outweigh the filth, the decay and the seething underbelly. The people I met there were incredible. The emotions I felt there were deep. It cut through me and then sewed me back up again.
Despite moving abodes twice when I last wrote to you, I decided to move one more time back to the previously full guest house that had been recommended to me by Nichole. When I returned to check it out, Ashish insisted I move in. He gave me a room for 180 rupees (two pounds fifty) that overlooked the Ganga. Though small and extremely basic, it was a true haven.
Bizarrely, when I went to visit him for tea, Tomer called and said I must go and stay at Kedar Ghat. When I told him that I was sitting at Shiva International Lodge in Kedar, he replied that his guest house was the one directly on top of it. That clinched it. I returned to Vishnu, packed by bag for the gazillioneth time and made my way along the Ganga dodging touts and the detritus that will catch you unawares, if you don't look down.At Shiva, I met a gaggle of Frenchies, Israelis, Brits, Brazillians, Russians and a Greek guy. Most speak at least 3 languages and play at least 3 instruments. Humbling to say the least. We had some heavenly music sessions. Just outside the guest house door was the best bead maker in Varanasi, Bandu, and a chai stand run by Ravi.
I had a glorious few days exploring the town, in particular the day that I met my new friend, a talented fashion designer called Nichola who is from Canada and lives in Italia. He introduced me to his wonderfully bright and mischievous guide Kishore and we spent an incredible day exploring the back streets of Varanasi. I just don't have the energy to describe the whole day right now, but the highlight has to be the wrestlers we went to visit, who were visibly shocked to have a woman in their compound. I hope you like the photo of me and the guys (to come)!!!
I made one daytrip to the incredible sacred Bhuddhist site of Saranath. This is where Bhuddha gave his very first lecture and is a special place. A real haven where you can breathe, only 20 kms away from the staggering mayhem and onslaught that is Varanasi. My companions were Sarah from England and Glem from Brazil, mates from the guest house. Can you believe that in the rick on the way there, Sarah asked me about my work and then realised that she'd seen me give a talk in Hackney about Filmaka? Too bizarre!
There was a Saraswati (god of education) festival on the weekend I arrived. Big gangs of young guys, (women are not so present in this city, it's deity is Shiva and it is truly a masculine place), were throwing red powder at each other and dancing in the streets to screeching music. They carried statues made of straw and clay and painted up like dolls down to the Ganga where they chanted, jumped in boats and then dropped them into the river. It was extraordinary.
This city has to be the noisiest place on earth. I'm so glad that I didn't realise that the piercing howls I heard every night were gangs of male dogs raping the females, until after I left. Though the sounds still haunt me. The air is heavy, but the Ganga countermands this. Although it's polluted (seriously you don't want to know) after a few days, you can see how seriously the people worship it and their rituals quickly becomes normal. I even stood in it when I did my first pooja (sacred offering) and let a holy man drip water on my hands. When in Rome!
One of the strangest experiences I had, was witnessing a British guy make a bonfire and ceremoniously burn his little toe. Seriously. It had gone gangreneous the previous year and he'd kept it mummifying in a matchbox, brought it with him to Varanasi and then just next to where we were all sitting and making music, he gathered with a bunch of friends and burnt it ("It's fizzing!!". Before you get squeamish, imagine watching whole bodies being cremated in front of you. That happens every day on the banks of the Ganga. And sadly I hear, the horrendous fires in Australia have brought many innocent people and their homes to a premature cremation. I say a little prayer.
On my last night in Varanasi, the mist rolled in as we sat by the fire drinking tea, smoking and jamming. I was sat between two of the most exquisite guitar players (Nicholas and Oli) while Sagi jumped between the flute, the tabla and the guitar. I even sang a bit, joining the others. At one stage, we realised that the mist had come in so close that it simply melded into the Ganga, so it looked like we were sitting by an abyss. I had to keep pinching myself that it was real.
It was magical. I met a couple who were leaving to get married in Nepal (aforementioned Oli and his British bride Fiona) with 20 guests, was serenaded by a Tibetan devotee and made endless pots of tea with Sagi. We were sitting outside his room, which is where I watched every sunrise. In fact, I watched 5 sunrises in a row in Varanasi. It was only the last night that was sleepless, I was just so charged being there and wanting to experience every minute that I needed very little rest.
I have another roll of pictures to develop, so I'll put more photos up soon but I hope these suffice for now. I'm sorry but I have to leave it there. I'm heading to Singapore tonight to visit my divine friend Maddy and my goddaughter Charlotte, (plus her Daddy Harry and her sister Claudia), and then I'm on to Oz where I arrive on Friday the 13th!!!
It feels so good to be heading home. I can't wait to see everyone. I'm not sure when I'll be writing here again, but I promise to do my best to keep this up in some fashion. Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Please leave your comments. I'd love to hear from you.
Namaste.
This city has to be the noisiest place on earth. I'm so glad that I didn't realise that the piercing howls I heard every night were gangs of male dogs raping the females, until after I left. Though the sounds still haunt me. The air is heavy, but the Ganga countermands this. Although it's polluted (seriously you don't want to know) after a few days, you can see how seriously the people worship it and their rituals quickly becomes normal. I even stood in it when I did my first pooja (sacred offering) and let a holy man drip water on my hands. When in Rome!One of the strangest experiences I had, was witnessing a British guy make a bonfire and ceremoniously burn his little toe. Seriously. It had gone gangreneous the previous year and he'd kept it mummifying in a matchbox, brought it with him to Varanasi and then just next to where we were all sitting and making music, he gathered with a bunch of friends and burnt it ("It's fizzing!!". Before you get squeamish, imagine watching whole bodies being cremated in front of you. That happens every day on the banks of the Ganga. And sadly I hear, the horrendous fires in Australia have brought many innocent people and their homes to a premature cremation. I say a little prayer.
On my last night in Varanasi, the mist rolled in as we sat by the fire drinking tea, smoking and jamming. I was sat between two of the most exquisite guitar players (Nicholas and Oli) while Sagi jumped between the flute, the tabla and the guitar. I even sang a bit, joining the others. At one stage, we realised that the mist had come in so close that it simply melded into the Ganga, so it looked like we were sitting by an abyss. I had to keep pinching myself that it was real.
It was magical. I met a couple who were leaving to get married in Nepal (aforementioned Oli and his British bride Fiona) with 20 guests, was serenaded by a Tibetan devotee and made endless pots of tea with Sagi. We were sitting outside his room, which is where I watched every sunrise. In fact, I watched 5 sunrises in a row in Varanasi. It was only the last night that was sleepless, I was just so charged being there and wanting to experience every minute that I needed very little rest.
I have another roll of pictures to develop, so I'll put more photos up soon but I hope these suffice for now. I'm sorry but I have to leave it there. I'm heading to Singapore tonight to visit my divine friend Maddy and my goddaughter Charlotte, (plus her Daddy Harry and her sister Claudia), and then I'm on to Oz where I arrive on Friday the 13th!!!
It feels so good to be heading home. I can't wait to see everyone. I'm not sure when I'll be writing here again, but I promise to do my best to keep this up in some fashion. Thank you to everyone who has been reading. Please leave your comments. I'd love to hear from you.
Namaste.
Lxxxxx
Saturday, 31 January 2009
DOUBLE DOWNLOAD JEOPARDY
Ok, so after two massive brawls and a few hundred rupees, I moved myself to a wonderful guest house where my room overlooks the Ganga. It's perfect and is one of the original guest houses catering to travellers. I've met a great range of people already and don't even mind that my room doesn't have a sink! Or the crazy noises that emanate from the ghats below.
So before I bang on about Varanasi, which I'll leave for after my sunrise boat trip to check out the burning ghats and see the city from the water, I'll take you back to Jaipur.
My one and only festival post was in a sleep deprived, wine filled and floating state. As you may recall, I had just heard Rumi poetry purify my soul, (or was it that I was just overwhelmed by the atmosphere?), and sat next to Leila Seth. Well, I kept my promise and bought her autobiography the next day, and I tracked her down to dedicate it. I'm absolutely loving the book and had no idea I'd plonked myself next to India's first female Chief Justice. She trained as a lawyer after having her second child, in her 'down-time' when in London with no help whatsoever except for 2 weeks before her exams.
In the Durbar Hall of the Jaipur Literature Festival, I think I experienced the most stimulating and diverse week of my life. It's impossible for me to share with you all the authors and poets and musicians who took part (and don't forget I was in one of three venues, so sadly missed Thomas Keneally!!). So, I'll give you some bullet points to avoid this turning into yet another missive:
* Gulzar, truly one of India's most loved poets and lyricists (as previously mentioned) bears a second reference as Nichole (who ran the music stage on the front lawn and has become a mate) gave me a book of his poetry as a memento.
* I know I've been rabbitting on about his Mum, but Vikram Seth did a wonderful discussion on the front lawn whilst sipping red wine, of which a snap appeared in the local press and outraged many people. Honestly, he was sipping a glass of wine!!
* Alice Albinia is a British author and I can't wait to read her books, she was constantly referred to as a rising star. She was so bright and one of the few women on the stage, plus we shared a charpoy when listening to the Baul and shared nuts and bolts.
*Nadeem Aslam gave a fascinating look at India and its future with the brilliant Shoma Chaudhury hosting (another fab female).
*My new hero, Tarun Tejpal, who edits a brilliant magazine Tehelka, who stormed into the hall and blew everyone's socks off.
* The debate hosted by Madhu Trehan (top notch journo) and Manoj Raghuvanshi arguing "Whether it's possible to be honest in India?". Wow was this heated and fascinating, the stories of corruption, mostly shared by the audience were truly shocking, despite what one might have heard and read. There was even a murder witness in the audience who shared her story, which was chilling. And humbling.
*Chetan Bhagat got all the school kids and the women in a tizz, he has tapped into the younger generation's hearts and minds as no other author I saw there. I kept telling his kids off for making too much noise and his wife actually thanked me at the after party!!
*Patrick French in conversation with Pico Iyer. Need I say more? Heaven. Such different styles and such fascinating men.
* Nandita Das, Prasoon Joshi, Nasreen Munni Kabir and Vikas Swarup making the crowd swoon. This was actually a hellish session as any whiff of Bollywood and the audience went mad. I lost my cool during this session, the one and only time in the whole fest.
* My true hero and new friend William Dalrymple (see right down the bottom with his wife Olive, Vikram Seth and moi), my secret crush Colin Thubron (double my age and so lovely), the divine Pico Iyer and a new and impressive face Charles Nicholl who gave delicious travel readings. It could have gone on all day. I wanted to let it.
* Simon Schama. What a dynamo! He gave one session on Obama and American history and then another on Picasso. What a man, what a brain. Mine hurt.
* THE Tina Brown dishing the dirt on Princess Diana and Vanity Fair. Lascerating tongue. She admitted that Tarun T's mag Tehelka is her fave in the world.
* And soooooo much more. If you can make it to Jaipur next January, you really, seriously should. You can bet I'll be doing my utmost to be there.
I really couldn't believe the quality and quantity of authors, poets and I have hardly touched on the musicians yet, who were all singing for their supper at the Diggi Palace (what a setting) with such intensity and every single event was FREE. Plus everyone was thrown in together, there was no green room. The brilliant Teamwork Productions crew worked like demons to ensure that whether you were royalty, a school child or a guy off the street, you were made to feel welcome.
I must say that Sanjoy, Sheuli and Ila all lead by example and every single person who worked at the festival (too many to name but Avani who helped me out at Durbar Hall and is such a friend now, must be singled out) made it super special. The atmosphere was electric. Inspiring. Challenging and truly fascinating. It was an absolute honour.
I really have to go to bed now. I can't wait to see another sunrise.
Lxxxx
So before I bang on about Varanasi, which I'll leave for after my sunrise boat trip to check out the burning ghats and see the city from the water, I'll take you back to Jaipur.
My one and only festival post was in a sleep deprived, wine filled and floating state. As you may recall, I had just heard Rumi poetry purify my soul, (or was it that I was just overwhelmed by the atmosphere?), and sat next to Leila Seth. Well, I kept my promise and bought her autobiography the next day, and I tracked her down to dedicate it. I'm absolutely loving the book and had no idea I'd plonked myself next to India's first female Chief Justice. She trained as a lawyer after having her second child, in her 'down-time' when in London with no help whatsoever except for 2 weeks before her exams.
In the Durbar Hall of the Jaipur Literature Festival, I think I experienced the most stimulating and diverse week of my life. It's impossible for me to share with you all the authors and poets and musicians who took part (and don't forget I was in one of three venues, so sadly missed Thomas Keneally!!). So, I'll give you some bullet points to avoid this turning into yet another missive:* Gulzar, truly one of India's most loved poets and lyricists (as previously mentioned) bears a second reference as Nichole (who ran the music stage on the front lawn and has become a mate) gave me a book of his poetry as a memento.
* I know I've been rabbitting on about his Mum, but Vikram Seth did a wonderful discussion on the front lawn whilst sipping red wine, of which a snap appeared in the local press and outraged many people. Honestly, he was sipping a glass of wine!!
* Alice Albinia is a British author and I can't wait to read her books, she was constantly referred to as a rising star. She was so bright and one of the few women on the stage, plus we shared a charpoy when listening to the Baul and shared nuts and bolts.
*Nadeem Aslam gave a fascinating look at India and its future with the brilliant Shoma Chaudhury hosting (another fab female).
*My new hero, Tarun Tejpal, who edits a brilliant magazine Tehelka, who stormed into the hall and blew everyone's socks off.
* The debate hosted by Madhu Trehan (top notch journo) and Manoj Raghuvanshi arguing "Whether it's possible to be honest in India?". Wow was this heated and fascinating, the stories of corruption, mostly shared by the audience were truly shocking, despite what one might have heard and read. There was even a murder witness in the audience who shared her story, which was chilling. And humbling.
*Chetan Bhagat got all the school kids and the women in a tizz, he has tapped into the younger generation's hearts and minds as no other author I saw there. I kept telling his kids off for making too much noise and his wife actually thanked me at the after party!!
*Patrick French in conversation with Pico Iyer. Need I say more? Heaven. Such different styles and such fascinating men.
* Nandita Das, Prasoon Joshi, Nasreen Munni Kabir and Vikas Swarup making the crowd swoon. This was actually a hellish session as any whiff of Bollywood and the audience went mad. I lost my cool during this session, the one and only time in the whole fest.
* My true hero and new friend William Dalrymple (see right down the bottom with his wife Olive, Vikram Seth and moi), my secret crush Colin Thubron (double my age and so lovely), the divine Pico Iyer and a new and impressive face Charles Nicholl who gave delicious travel readings. It could have gone on all day. I wanted to let it.
* Simon Schama. What a dynamo! He gave one session on Obama and American history and then another on Picasso. What a man, what a brain. Mine hurt.
* THE Tina Brown dishing the dirt on Princess Diana and Vanity Fair. Lascerating tongue. She admitted that Tarun T's mag Tehelka is her fave in the world.
* And soooooo much more. If you can make it to Jaipur next January, you really, seriously should. You can bet I'll be doing my utmost to be there.
I really couldn't believe the quality and quantity of authors, poets and I have hardly touched on the musicians yet, who were all singing for their supper at the Diggi Palace (what a setting) with such intensity and every single event was FREE. Plus everyone was thrown in together, there was no green room. The brilliant Teamwork Productions crew worked like demons to ensure that whether you were royalty, a school child or a guy off the street, you were made to feel welcome.
I must say that Sanjoy, Sheuli and Ila all lead by example and every single person who worked at the festival (too many to name but Avani who helped me out at Durbar Hall and is such a friend now, must be singled out) made it super special. The atmosphere was electric. Inspiring. Challenging and truly fascinating. It was an absolute honour.
I really have to go to bed now. I can't wait to see another sunrise.
Lxxxx
SHE'S ALIVE, SHE'S ALIVE
I went down, down, down with a cold and exhaustation after the festival. I'm sorry for my silence but I gave every ounce of myself and then danced like a maniac at the closing night party, forgot to eat dinner, drank too much champers and got a chill. Typical!
At least it was in style at the City Palace where the theme was black & red. Yes, my fave combination. It was by far the classiest festival closing I've ever been to. And the French/Algerian dj was such fun, as were his various dancers who whirled around the perfect lawn with the turban-ed waiters attending our every need. Gosh it was gorgeous. And we were all so exhausted and elated, so we had a blast. Noone wanted to go home.
I can't wait to get the photos developed. There is still so much to tell you about the festival but I think I'll work backwards as I've got limited time.
I've just arrived at Varanasi. India's holiest city. Many proclaim it to be the oldest city in the world It runs a pigrimage line from and to Kanyakumari, where I spent the last full moon. It's where many people come to die or be re-born, there are burning bodies right on the Ganga. It's a staggering sight and experience, though they do camp it up for the tourists and follow you about mercilessly. It's a magical place.
After sleeping and snuffling the week away in Jaipur, missing my ride on an Enfield through Rajasthan to a Sufi festival and taking some time out at Krishna's wonderful guest house with all the colourful characters (more on them later, it's been like Days of Our Lives, seriously), I decided it was time to move yesterday.
It was hard to leave my new friends, but I had cabin fever. Just a quick word to the lovely lads in the photo. Adi is a brilliant Rajasthani musician and he introduced me to the wonderful Nichole and sorted out my guest house. Then came over for visits and played music for us, just as he's doing here while Rado (divine Slovenian who lives in Holland)is singing a folk song from home.
My god I nearly forgot to tell you about Nichole's and my lunch with the royalty of Jaipur. In short, I had left a bag at the closing night party and when I went back to pick it up, the Marketing Manager invited me and Nichole to come for lunch with the royal family. I dragged my cold ridden body out of bed and we got snazzied up and raced to the palace. We were greeted with flowers and musicians and given champagne. But no royalty appeared, turns out the Marketing Manager is a bit lonely after leaving London so he and his assistant hosted us for a delicious lunch. It was a slight let down, as we realsed we'd been lead up the garden path. But it was a beautiful, jewel laden path with a feast at the end. So we just giggled all the way home.
I tried to race to the railway station but only made it by midday. Everyone had said it was an overnight train leaving in the evening, so I didn't bother packing. Yup, the train was leaving at 3.30pm. I threw far too many things into my poor rucksack, ate lunch in record time (always know I'm better when I've got my appetite back) and made it onto the train having secured a nice sleeper. My first overnight train experience was pretty civilised, though I hardly slept a wink as it was lumpy as hell.
Pity the train terminated in Lucknow (capital of Uttar Pradesh) at 2.45am instead of going on to Varanasi as it was supposed to!! Most fortunately the lady sleeping below me, the gorgeous and wonderful Sushita, helped me and two London based nurses Liz (Brit) and Arik (Pole) get a car to take us on. We didn't fancy the shit fight of another train journey and the trip was entrancing, despite our tired eyes. I love watching India scratch its scrawny butt, yawn and then wake up with a groggy, colourful grin. People only really kick into gear at 10am.
Little did we know what was ahead of us in the car. For a few hours it was dark and easy going, except for the huge piles of stones that seemed to take up half the 'highway' and the massive trucks that kept coming head on. I was most glad not to be in the front and that I'd remembered to charge my iPod. Jeff Buckley continues to keep me company. I'll never tire of Grace.
We decided after a beautiful sunrise (blood red) and so many amazing sights (wild camels sauntering about in packs, monkeys abounding, groups of women wrapping themselves in vibrant colours, kids causing trouble) that we'd wait and have breakfast in Varanasi, as it was only 50km away. Ha! It took us many hours of circumnavigating the city to find our way to Liz and Arik's hotel. The relief. The view of the Ganges (Mother Ganga) that greeted us. It's beyond description. It made me realise why Rado had confided in me two nights ago, when I was trying to decide on one more stop in India before I head back to Bombay, "Dahhling, the Taj Mahal is beautiful but it's a dead monument and Agra is a pit, you can do it later, you haven't really done India until you've been to Varanasi."
For now I just want to let you know that I'm ok. There's so much I need to 'download' as my lovely new friend Nichole says. Unfortunately the hotel she recommended was full and I ended up being taken for a ride by a little boy (the touts here are uber professional) and ended up in some crappy overpriced place.
I've just had a shower, wandered along the Ganga, visited the fascinating Kedarnad temple (my forehead is covered in tika by Gita Tiwari) and found the perfect place. How am I going to get myself out of the hovel where I've just showered and strewn my clothes?!?!?
Wish me luck. More soon.
Lxxxxx
At least it was in style at the City Palace where the theme was black & red. Yes, my fave combination. It was by far the classiest festival closing I've ever been to. And the French/Algerian dj was such fun, as were his various dancers who whirled around the perfect lawn with the turban-ed waiters attending our every need. Gosh it was gorgeous. And we were all so exhausted and elated, so we had a blast. Noone wanted to go home.
I can't wait to get the photos developed. There is still so much to tell you about the festival but I think I'll work backwards as I've got limited time.
I've just arrived at Varanasi. India's holiest city. Many proclaim it to be the oldest city in the world It runs a pigrimage line from and to Kanyakumari, where I spent the last full moon. It's where many people come to die or be re-born, there are burning bodies right on the Ganga. It's a staggering sight and experience, though they do camp it up for the tourists and follow you about mercilessly. It's a magical place.
After sleeping and snuffling the week away in Jaipur, missing my ride on an Enfield through Rajasthan to a Sufi festival and taking some time out at Krishna's wonderful guest house with all the colourful characters (more on them later, it's been like Days of Our Lives, seriously), I decided it was time to move yesterday.
It was hard to leave my new friends, but I had cabin fever. Just a quick word to the lovely lads in the photo. Adi is a brilliant Rajasthani musician and he introduced me to the wonderful Nichole and sorted out my guest house. Then came over for visits and played music for us, just as he's doing here while Rado (divine Slovenian who lives in Holland)is singing a folk song from home.
My god I nearly forgot to tell you about Nichole's and my lunch with the royalty of Jaipur. In short, I had left a bag at the closing night party and when I went back to pick it up, the Marketing Manager invited me and Nichole to come for lunch with the royal family. I dragged my cold ridden body out of bed and we got snazzied up and raced to the palace. We were greeted with flowers and musicians and given champagne. But no royalty appeared, turns out the Marketing Manager is a bit lonely after leaving London so he and his assistant hosted us for a delicious lunch. It was a slight let down, as we realsed we'd been lead up the garden path. But it was a beautiful, jewel laden path with a feast at the end. So we just giggled all the way home.
I tried to race to the railway station but only made it by midday. Everyone had said it was an overnight train leaving in the evening, so I didn't bother packing. Yup, the train was leaving at 3.30pm. I threw far too many things into my poor rucksack, ate lunch in record time (always know I'm better when I've got my appetite back) and made it onto the train having secured a nice sleeper. My first overnight train experience was pretty civilised, though I hardly slept a wink as it was lumpy as hell.
Pity the train terminated in Lucknow (capital of Uttar Pradesh) at 2.45am instead of going on to Varanasi as it was supposed to!! Most fortunately the lady sleeping below me, the gorgeous and wonderful Sushita, helped me and two London based nurses Liz (Brit) and Arik (Pole) get a car to take us on. We didn't fancy the shit fight of another train journey and the trip was entrancing, despite our tired eyes. I love watching India scratch its scrawny butt, yawn and then wake up with a groggy, colourful grin. People only really kick into gear at 10am.
Little did we know what was ahead of us in the car. For a few hours it was dark and easy going, except for the huge piles of stones that seemed to take up half the 'highway' and the massive trucks that kept coming head on. I was most glad not to be in the front and that I'd remembered to charge my iPod. Jeff Buckley continues to keep me company. I'll never tire of Grace.
We decided after a beautiful sunrise (blood red) and so many amazing sights (wild camels sauntering about in packs, monkeys abounding, groups of women wrapping themselves in vibrant colours, kids causing trouble) that we'd wait and have breakfast in Varanasi, as it was only 50km away. Ha! It took us many hours of circumnavigating the city to find our way to Liz and Arik's hotel. The relief. The view of the Ganges (Mother Ganga) that greeted us. It's beyond description. It made me realise why Rado had confided in me two nights ago, when I was trying to decide on one more stop in India before I head back to Bombay, "Dahhling, the Taj Mahal is beautiful but it's a dead monument and Agra is a pit, you can do it later, you haven't really done India until you've been to Varanasi."For now I just want to let you know that I'm ok. There's so much I need to 'download' as my lovely new friend Nichole says. Unfortunately the hotel she recommended was full and I ended up being taken for a ride by a little boy (the touts here are uber professional) and ended up in some crappy overpriced place.
I've just had a shower, wandered along the Ganga, visited the fascinating Kedarnad temple (my forehead is covered in tika by Gita Tiwari) and found the perfect place. How am I going to get myself out of the hovel where I've just showered and strewn my clothes?!?!?
Wish me luck. More soon.
Lxxxxx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
