Wayback memories at the farmette

It's a sunny, frigid day at the farmette. A frosty -22C when we got up. No snow over night, but about 16 inches still on the ground.

Last week, I was rummaging through the filing cabinet looking for something I've now forgotten when I happened upon the travel diary I wrote on my trip through India, Nepal and Thailand 35 (!) years ago. I was 27, thin, and adventurous. I had looked all over hell's half acre for the damn thing, mining for story ideas. I knew I'd packed it. But where?

Deep in the bowels of the filing cabinet where all our bills, veterinary invoices and tax returns are kept, obvi...

After writing about my late friend Karen last week, it seemed serendipitous that I finally retrieved the journal. So here's a brief look back.

We travelled from mid-October to mid-December, 1990.

This is me, in my still-smoking days, sitting in the Palace of the Winds in Jaipur, India, the Pink City.

We had started in Delhi, went on to Agra, and the Taj Mahal (gorgeous, way better in real life than pictures), then headed north and west, through Rajasthan and the Indian desert.

It was magical, in a tough, thrilling, lovely, terrifying and surreal way.

I'd forgotten so many details. The Indian boys pinching our bums and boobs. The long lines at train stations only to find out there were no tickets to be had. The puking and desperate fatigue. The civil unrest between the Hindus and Muslims along with the violence and curfews.

We spent three days in the Indian desert with a guide, a cook and three camels. Amazing. Even chewing on the camel fur baked in the chapatis.

India was a test of the old adage 'Keep calm and carry on'. Nepal was welcoming and the most physically testing part (we trekked for a week through the Annapurna range on a 45 degree angle most of the time.) Thailand was dirty and conventient (Bangkok), peaceful and boring (Koh Phangan) and a partying rocker beach buzz (Koh Samui).

It wasn't all trying. We had wonderful help and encouragement from folks along the way. The majestic, gob-smacking scenery was transcendental. We learned so much, not only about history and geography but also about how others live, work and play. And I found a resourcefulness I never thought I had in me. Thanks to Karen, who was almost always the stalwart one.

From the tops of mountains to sunny beaches, it was a trip of a life time.

We had so many close calls. We stowed away on a train from Ahmedabad to Bombay because they lied (once again) in the train station about ticket availability. The conductor tried to get us off halfway through at a nowhere station that Karen was sure we'd expire in. Stubbornness and faking being stupid Canadian tourists (not a stretch) saved our bacon. Sleeping on the compartment floor beside the toilet for the rest of the trip seemed like small beans.

We also had incredible luck. The rumour that the Pushkar Market was cancelled were untrue. So we went, we saw, and we enjoyed an amazing couple of days at the festival, with sights, sounds and experiences we would never even dream of in North America.

I had just met Rob, and missed him. The journal has gooey ramblings about seeing his smiling face. This was mostly when I was sick and puking and feeling low. He laughed when I told him that today.

Can't remember whether this was Koh Pi Pi or Rai Lay. Anyhow. Thailand.

So glad I found the journal. There are tons more details about the Danish, German, Spanish, English and Australian tourists we met, travelled with and moved on from. Along with the locals, many of whom were kind and generous with their advice.

Sitting in the farmette house under a blanket of snow, it was fun to travel back in time. Hope you enjoyed it too. Until next week.

Gratuitous summer time cat photo courtesy of Calvin, Fred and Wilma, who enjoy a bit of kitty television every once in a while.