Our last stop in Australia, awkwardly further away from New Zealand than Melbourne, was another visit at relatives’: my aunt and her family moved to Brisbane a few years ago, and I already had the opportunity to come by during my last round-the-world trip.
I was definitely luckier this time. Brisbane was not flooded.
“… The car ferry is cheaper, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but you’d have to cross the bridge and then walk a fair distance to get ‘ere.”
I thanked the driver and clumsily got off the bus — with my backpack and the groceries in my hands, I was unable to turn around. The doors closed and the bus went on its way, to the Sealink ferry. The one we would not take.
Let us be honest: India, though a marvellous and eye-opening destination, has more than a fair share of hassles in pack for travelers. I have talked with people disgusted after leaving the country, seen travelers pack up for home almost as soon as they had arrived, and read so many warnings that I could tell stories about that fact without even mentioning my own experience. The short conclusion is: most people love and hate India. At the same time.
And even though I tend to think I loved it more than I hated it, Phillip Island (Victoria), where Aunt Coeri and Uncle Rod took us for some holidays, still was a huge shock for me. An agreeable shock, mind. As opposed to the mountains of garbage and plastic we had previously encountered, Phillip Island boasts a pristine or, if altered by man, well-conserved environment. The contrast with our months spent in India was tremendous; and this contrast, I think, made our enjoyment of the Australian flora and fauna all the better.
I find it particularly adequate that up to the last hour before parting, we were still furiously playing coinche, our favorite card game, as if wherever we were, and whatever happened, was only a background to our most important activity. Like everytime we had been together. Since August.
The time finally arrived when we really had to move to the restaurant for a last meal together; and the world abruptly came back to us. Marine and Guillaume shouldered their backpacks from their last hotel room after a year spent traveling across Asia, and we set out on the sand under the palm trees. The sea was, as ever, singing its unending song; that day it was one of farewell.
Since the last time I was in Goa, three years ago (already!), I only wanted to come back; and deep in the cold of the Himalayan mountains, a few days before entering India again, I thought of Goa to cheer me up. Not of the Taj Mahal, not of the Indian food, not of the bright, colorful, ever-joyous and crazily chaotic Indian culture. I thought of Goa.
Ladina put down her whip, took off her hat and wiped the sweat off her brow. We had just escaped a deadly arrow trap followed by swinging axes when we had stumbled upon a long gallery. Astonished by our discovery, we slowly made our way along the walls, using our torch to bring light to ancient, crumbling bas-reliefs depicting what seemed to be forgotten gods in scenes of daily life: battling demons, wrenching entrails out of an agonizing enemy, or sometimes simply lifting mountains above their heads.
“I think we would better appreciate all of this if we had some historical context, or better still, theological explanations.”
“Let me get the Lonely Planet out”
That is the reason why the blog has seen so few updates in the last three weeks. Not the cows: the beach. While we were declaring to everyone we were super ultra busy in our travel, we were actually shamelessly whiling the days away, basking in the golden sun, sipping fruity lassis or playing frisbee (admittedly at a terrible level). Well I guess that still made us a bit busy.
Oh God, I want to be back in Goa already. Why did we leave, again?
Although it is seldom mentioned in Western education, India has a millenary-old history going back to the earliest stages of Antiquity, full of the drama of warring kingdoms and crumbling empires, mighty Maharajas and decadent peoples. In particular, almost the whole subcontinent of India was united under the banner of the great Mughal empire from the 16th to the 18th century, after years of conquest and military supremacy of the Muslim armies. The Mughal emperors would leave a lasting trace of their glory in History, with Shah Jahan having erected the Taj Mahal, and the mighty Akbar being still today revered as both a skillful general and a wise ruler.
It is thus unsurprising that so much of their passage could remain visible today, all across the state of Rajasthan. Immense (as well as impregnable!) forts dot the countryside, while majestic and luxurious palaces sometimes emerge at the most unexpected locations.
