Grrrrrrrrrrr

Udaipur, India

Miles - who knows? Somewhere around 7,000? Penny's afloat somewhere in the Gulf of Arabia.

When we planned that our world tour would include India, one of the things we dreamed about was the prospect of seeing a tiger in the wild. Ranthambore National Park in Rajasthan is widely regarded as the best possible place to witness such a thing, and since we had altered our plans to fly into Delhi rather than Mumbai, it was, in Indian terms, a short drive. Just 7 hours.

Waking before dawn and taking a 6am 'canter' - basically a school minibus with the roof peeled off - through the freezing mist into the wild bushland, our hopes were high of seeing one of natures rarest predators, that ancient Indian symbol of courage, the tiger. To see two would be incredible, and that's why I opened this chapter with that  jaw dropping photo I took...

...of a magazine.

The 1000RP (about £14) each I had invested in our 'safari' (which comes from the ancient African word saf-a-ri, meaning 'expensive disappointment') proved fruitless. Bless the girls for looking on the bright side, saying things like 

"It was nice to see the peacocks."

"And the deer. They were nice."

Peacocks! Deer! It's not Blenheim Palace! I wanted teeth and claws and roars and at the very least a dangerously close encounter with a cobra or two.

"There! On the lake" the guide would whisper with reverence. "An egret!"

An egret! Brilliant! We've crossed countless borders and 2 continents to see a bird also found in Poole Harbour!

"What next?" I whispered in awestruck wonder. "A pigeon?"

Of course I didn't. I was sitting next to Jill and I value my shins. 

In fact, although I can share my inner most thoughts with you, I actually do a good impression of a relatively non-cynical dad when in public. You should have heard me trying to engage Bethan, whose interest had waned somewhat after an hour or so.

"Look at the long grass, Beth. Can't you just imagine the tigers prowling stealthily towards their prey?!"

'Imagine'! That's right, I'm painting pictures in my childrens' minds! I should be invoicing those thieves in safari clothing. To be fair to the 'safari', we did see a crocodile. It was some distance away, but here's my long-zoom picture.

It lay entirely motionless while we watched. I know what you're thinking. I was thinking it too. Is that fibreglass? I blame Disney. I've seen too many theme parks. That damned mouse has robbed me of my wide eyed wonder.

We travelled on, bravely shouldering the crushing disappointment, to Udaipur, a pretty city on a large lake that bills itself as 'The Venice of the East'. (I thought that was Norwich). On the way we stopped at a large fortified town on a hill, looked at some temples, saw an ornate tower on a hill, spent some time in Udaipur looking around a 15th Century palace and another few Hindu temples, and the fact that I'm glossing over all these things is intentional. I need to crystalise in my mind a phenomenon that is affecting us all, and sharing it here is, unfortunately for you, reader, the easiest way I can do that. It's hard to describe the condition without it sounding horribly snooty, condescending and superior, but you're used to me by now, so here goes.

We're all suffering from a malaise that can only be described as 'travel weariness'. It's a creeping apathy that needs arresting and throttling as quickly as possible. A disease that, if left unchecked, may leave me being the only guy who'll turn up at The Grand Canyon and sigh "Not bad. Bit like the Wadi Mujib but with more tourists." I don't want to be that guy!

Getting the driver was a mistake. Naresh (nick name, er...Nick) is a nice enough bloke, but we constantly feel we're letting him down with our reactions. He'll offer us sightseeing opportunities that we feel we can't say no to, only to see him crestfallen when we return to the car after 15 minutes.

"You not like? Why so quick?" he would plead.

It's not that we don't like ruined forts, or old palaces and ornate temples, but...let me put it like this:

There's a scene in a film (sorry for the constant movie references in these blogs), no, not a scene - it's the definitive scene in the definitive sci-fi thriller. Rutger Hauer is Roy, a non-human 'replicant' battling with the realisation that he is mortal, and about to die. As he pushes a nail into the palm of his hand, trying to stave off the eternal sleep that's overwhelming him, he delivers Blade Runner's finest monologue to a rain sodden Harrison Ford.

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe" he starts, and then goes on to describe such fantastical sights as "attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion" and "sea beams glitter in the dark off the Tenhauser Gate" (wherever that is). I'm not going to post the YouTube link right here because you'll click it and then I'll have lost you. It amazes me you've read this far, and if it comes down to me versus Ridley Scott, I don't fancy my chances.

(Sigh, OK...I'll put it at the bottom.)

That scene keeps springing to mind when we feel duty bound to raise an excited smile and say complimentary things about the historic landmarks we're shown. 

"This is seats of ancient theatre" a guide will say, "where emperor would be entertained." Not bad, but I've stood in the Colosseum.


"This jug from 1500s." I've picked up discarded pottery that pre-dated Christ. 

"These walls are dating from 11th Century." I've blown dust off a 3000 year old Moab altar.

I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.

It's awful, and I feel horribly guilty admitting it. We're all unbelievably lucky to be seeing such treasures, and I really mean it when I say I don't want to become the man who shrugs "Yeah, pretty big. Shame about the flies" at Ayers Rock, but I'm giving you an honest insight into our mental state. At dinner tonight (vegetable biryani, vegetable pakora, zera aloo (potato and cumin) and naans - a week in India and still no meat! - Hooray for absence of dysentery!), one child asked how long the drive will be tomorrow and when Jill said 3 hours another child said "Can we please not stop at a fort?". None of us are proud of that, but there it is; the phenomenon of 'travel weariness'. I'm not entirely comfortable telling you about it, but it's too late now. I'm blowing the taboo wide open. It doesn't help that we're actually missing your snow. There, I've said it. Stop looking so smug.

Chittogargh. It's a fort. It's old.

As this blog is a little light on content (I was really counting on those tigers) I'd like to share a funny story that has entertained us throughout some of the many miles dodging cattle and kamikaze cars as we trek across India:

One of our dearest friends (who shall remain anonymous, lest the parents involved in this story somehow read this and join the dots) is a primary school teacher. She recently went for lunch with another primary teacher friend of hers and the conversation turned to the subject of 'what unusual children's names have you got this year?' - surely a perennial favourite with teachers of our little treasures.

"I've got a girl in my class" said her friend, "who spells her name like this."

She started to write on a serviette. "How would you pronounce it?"

She had written 'Le-a'

"Well," guessed our mate, "that must be Leah."

"Wrong." replied her friend. "I was calling her Leah for several days before her parents corrected me. Her name is Leedasher. You pronounce the dash!"

Isn't that brilliant? The 'text speak' generation is spawning its own breed of punctu-pronunciated children!

So, you know what's coming. 

What other clever names can there be that use this fresh new device? I'm sure you can suggest some. For those readers who are expecting a child, here are a few ideas gleaned from our long car journeys.

There's Dottie, obviously, spelt .e

(The friend in the story got that one, you see.)

But what about +am, P@, M@ and K@? Oh and don't forget H@ttie (or H@T, but that just spells hat).

Andy, Sandy, Sasha and Spike become &y, S&i, S#a and Sπk

But the star of the show, with his shaggy haired panache:

Gun's 'n' Roses guitarist, the man they call /

(and you thought this was just a travel journal)

Speak soon. Enjoy the snow. x

Blade Runner clip - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTzA_xesrL8

Are you telling your friends about this blog yet? What's wrong with you? You're snowed in aren't you? 9,000 hits and climbing! Get emailing! There's nothing better to warm your cockles on a cold winter's day than a mystical tale from the jungles of the East with absolutely no detail on history or culture and where the tigers don't turn up.