Homeward Bound

My my, never imagined doing this.....writing our last memoirs right here in well the not quite so sunny Holywood, Northern Ireland. It's been a rough passage home but as our french friend Flo said, "La voyage forme les jeunnes".





There's no point blabbering on about the woes and mercies of returning to friends and family before we have off loaded the stories of how we got here on to your, by this time, 'bored with Rory and Ryan's adventure stories' ears!





So then, this chapter begins thousands of miles away in monsoon plagued Nepal. After Rory resurrected himself from the dead in Pokhara, and a 7 hour bus journey to Kathmandu, Joe and Janet Campbell of our hometown, welcomed us in with open arms. It wasn't long before we made ourselves right at home and our pungent aromas crushed the scent of the sweet smelling roses wafting in through open windows. Needless to say, our aroma was in a different league to natures finest, although still just part of nature! For this we apologise Joe and Janet! Kathmandu was fascinating but to us it was a rest halt, a comfortable boudoir where we could rest our weary travelled bodies for 10 days or so, preparing it for the rigours of India that scared us like a schoolyard bully. We did at times drag ourselves out of bed and discovered a wonderful city. Originally 3 ancient separate cities, now just one sprawling mass, it did still manage to keep it's distinct characteristics of each area. All had there own Royal Durbar squares, their own festivals and distinct trades. The shopping was also amazing. Even though aimed at the tourists, the clothing, art and craft work demanded that we part company with our few remaining rupees and buy up all that we could squeeze into the small corners of our bags not yet filled. Honestly ladies, scrap New York, London and Paris, even forget about Connswater, Bloomfields and Primark, Nepal is the place to go for cheap, cool albeit slightly strange, handmade clothes. Take a break from A&F, Canterburys or burberry caps, the usual NI trademarks. Try yak wool coats, Pashminas, shawls, scarfs and saris, crazy wool hats and all colours of trousers. Granted, hippy look is only trendy when one is a traveller, but other bits and pieces can brighten up any wardrobe for the price of a Maccie D's.





With less than 3 weeks before we would once again be bowling in Dundonald Ice-Bowl, it was time to say cheerio to Joe and Janet, Kathmandu and Nepal. We really enjoyed walking around the streets of Kathmandu, Trekking in Annapurna, eating all of Joe and Janet's food, meeting their freinds, attending their church and generally sponging off them as much as we could, but to be in Mumbai in under 3 weeks with toilet stops at the Taj Mahal and Delhi along the way we really needed to get motoring.





So motor we did.....for 50 hours! Our "tourist" bus from Kathmandu to Nepal will forever be etched in our memories as if done so by sharp pieces of shattered glass. Maybe that's because on the morning of the second day, while still deep inside Nepal, the windscreen mysteriously shattered, covering all of those at the front in millions of splinters of glass and delaying our journey still more. Infact on leaving, it took us 3 hours to simply drive back past Joe and Janets house where we had just come from. Atleast since we were at the very back we escaped the glass but this proved catasptrophic in other respects. Like a giant see saw, we were sat right at the end, where you sat when you were a wee kid trying to get airborn down at the park. It's cool when your small and you can get off when your bum is suitably bruised, but there's no walking away from this see saw unless you want to walk the rest of the way to Delhi, hundreds and hundreds of kilometers away! So 50 hours later, after misplacing a windscreen and after being delayed at the border for hours due to some antique smuggling going on in our bus, we arrived in Delhi, as if just taking a beating from our seats. Literally heads hit ceilings, backs and necks ached and sleep deprived brains battled with pounding headaches.





So our pansy mattresses in Downtown guest house were a welcome relief even though a cardboard box would have been more cushioned. Our meal that night was also a welcome relief as over the past 3 days we had the sum total of 1 meal. Infact, like all indian food it was unbelievable and our starving bellies just made it even better. Delhi, maybe a bit surprisingly, turned out to be nearly as good as it's food! We watched "traditional" Rajasthani music performances with the token white boy on bass guitar, visited a few important religious sights, some old ruins, Gandhi memorials and museums,....the usual stuff that by now had become just a normal day. Looking back now, how blasé had we become about some of our activities that would in normal life be an occasional luxury? Still Delhi was a surprise hit and we did really enjoy our few days there. A surprising highlight for us both was visiting a working Sikh temple with our rickshaw driver who was keen to tell us all about his faith. After our visit, it became more than just another world religion, but actually a faith that millions of people all round the world follow and practise like we do with Christianity. It became a reality rather than just a topic in a RE textbook.





Still the clock was ticking so a short train ride (only 3 hours this time) took us to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal, among other things. After fighting with rickshaw drivers and hotel managers we eventually found a shoe-box of a room that was only slightly larger than Rory, literally a shoebox. Still we only spent a few hours trying to sleep in there as we were keen to get up for sunrise at the Taj Mahal the next morning. Even at this time there were queues and the dark rain clouds obscurred any sun trying to rise and burn our noses. However, the Taj still looked magnificent! Not quite on the same level as the Eves mansion but still no kennel. Infact the closer we walked towards it in our beautiful clown shorts, the better it looked as the intricate detail took shape before us. Totally symmetrical from all angles, the Taj is nearly 400 years old and built as a tomb by the powerful Shah Jahan to honour his late wife. Now recognised as one of the wonders of the world, and one of the most perfectly designed buildings, he has left quite a legacy that is unlikely to ever be repeated or bettered. We found the wealth of these old rulers to be totally unbelievable, considering that the Taj and many other mausoleums that bejewel India's countryside are simply elaborate graves that cost millions of rupees even hundreds of years ago. What man today could afford to bury himself, his family or loved ones in something so amazing as Akbar's Mausoleum, the Taj Mahal, or Delhi's immense Humayun's Tomb?


Agra was an ancient city full of incredible sights but also desperate shop keepers. It was the latter and the pesky rickshaw drivers that drove us away after spending only one night and on towards Jaipur, the Pink City. Jaipur is famous for it's amazing forts, beautiful palaces and it's old town made from pink Sandstone. However for us and the Eves family, it will forever be remembered for it's hospitals. On our first day exploring the city, with our new friends we had met only hours before on the train, Rory decided it was about time for another few days in bed. Starting off with a headache and quickly developing into worse symptoms, the poor bloke became quite delirious and worried us all with more malarial looking jitters. Luckily a Canadian and Frenchman came to his rescue, speaking perfect English, whisking him off to hospital, phoning his poor worrying mother and trying to contact a once again, hideously lost Ryan! In the mean time Rory lay on his death bed waiting for the fateful hour. Fortunately for us all, or for Rory anyway, that hour never came. Many hours and days were spent in Santokba Durlabhji Memorial Hospital soaking up all the expensive medical treatment and lying doing nothing but waiting. India definitely developes patience. The hospital was completely different to that of ours at home here were we are given what we need as soon as you need it. In India a family member (or friend in our case) must always be present to go and buy the needed medicines and generally just give a hand in looking after the patient. Still it's all just another story, and although a miserable time, we are truly grateful of all the help we received, especially from Suzanne and Julien who did so much more than friends of less than a day, are ever expected or could be asked to do.

Eventually, a daring escape that makes the Great Escape look like a stroll through the park, was attempted and we successfully made it back to our guesthouse onboard waiting getaway rickshaws. The details of our escape will never be discussed again for everyone's safety but take it from us, it was epic. Over the next few days we lay low, barely venturing beyond the confines of our room, learning the native languages through the mediums of Bollywood and cricket. Indians love nothing more than these spectacles, not even their food but for Ryan it was not enough. Hunger and boredom drove him out into the city where he found the beautiful Palace of the Winds, Hawa Mahal and the Jantar Mantar. 200 years ago, the Maharaja built the Hawa Mahal, a delicately, honeycombed, pink sandstone palace so the ladies of his Royal court (his hareem) could watch the daily life and processions of the city without having to go near the dirty dangerous streets. Jai Singh built the Jantar Mantar 80 years before that, to chart the annual progress through the zodiac, predict eclipses and tell the time. The largest sundial in the world is no wrist watch but it is accurate to within 2 seconds!

With a worrying mother at home and not particularly enjoying being sick, away from home in India of all places we decided to book tickets home a week early and made plans to get down to Mumbai pronto. Before such an ordeal though, it was necessary to release any pent up frustratuions and lose our remaining rupees in a days shopping spree that would shame Mahatma Gandhi. Shoes, drums, shawls, wall hangings and jewellery were all snapped up before our final splurge in Jaipur's niftiest restaurant. Yes, it may have cost 10 times the price of a normal meal, but it was still only £10 and we had never tasted Indian food as good. Like Violet from Charlie and the Choclate factory, we rolled out the door into a waiting rickshaw, back to our humble abode, for our last night of hostel sleep.

And so the journey home began, or maybe it began all the way back in Milford Sound, New Zealand. Roughly the half way point in time and also about as far away from home as we will probably ever be, this is where we turned round and began a journey home, hence the name of our silly blog. Still back then we had so much still to look forward to and it was all part of the journey. Now we only had one small journey onboard a train for the next 16 hours before a quick 9 hour flight home where it would all be over. Not much to look forward to this time. Well that's a lie, both of us were keen to see family and friends again, and for Rory, some proper rest and medicine in his own bed probably sounded like heaven come early. However, it was the end of cheap living, buzzing tuk-tuks, perfect tropical beaches, exciting prospects, travellers commaraderie, great exotic food, car journeys longer than 30 minutes, different varieties of cultures and religions, new faces, living out of a back pack and generally doing whatever the hell we wanted to do! It was the end of our holiday and the travelling life that had become the norm to us. We had always known how blessed we were to be doing what we were doing but on the last journey home it sank in a bit that it wasn't going to last forever.


Thankfully our flight back to London had enough entertaining movies to distract us from getting to deep and miserable, but nothing could distract Rory from the powerful gases threatening to destroy everyone in the plane that Ryan was producing. He may not have been ill, but Ryan was certainly not a well boy, something was very very wrong with him! Atleast Rory didn't have to deal with him any longer. At Heathrow airport, we got a last photo, had a quick manly hug/slap on the back type of thing, before Rory checked in for his flight to Dublin and Ryan made his way into the heart of London for one last dollop of tourism with his family.


Seems like that's the end of our stories folks. The blog may be pages too long but in reality it's only a snapshot of what all we've got up since January. On a final note it may only have been Rory admitted to hospital with any medical condition, but both us have picked up another bug, that can't be treated and doesn't go away. God willing it won't be long before we're away again, living our latest dreams and satisfying the travel bug inside.

From Holywood with love,

Your friends,

Rory & Ryan xoxox