all star india touring company

Requiem for Mumbai

2006-12-04T03:16:00.000-08:00

"'Back to Bom!' I yelled happily, alarming airport coolies. 'Back to Bom!' I cheered, despite everything, until the newly-sober Jamila said "Oh Saleem, honestly, shoo!' ... and then we were in a real Bombay black-and-yellow taxi, and I was wallowing in the sounds of hot-channa hot-channa hawkers, the throng of camels bicyles and people people people, thinking how Mumbadevi's city made Rawalpindi look like a village, rediscovering especially the colours, the forgotten vividness of gulmohr and bougainvillea, the livid green of the waters of the Mahalaxmi Temple 'tank', the stark black-and-white of the traffic policemen's sun umbrellas and the blue-and-yellowness of their uniforms; but most of all the blue blue blue of the sea..."
Salman Rushdie, Midnight's Children

This is a leetle bit of a cheat, as you have read by now that Miss Moi is well and truly living it up in Goa while we're back in Melbourne either at work or, as I had to do, going to a 3 day leadership training course at the Australian Institute of Management...
But I had been meaning to write this as my final contribution to the blog, as a kind of homage to a city that both intrigued, repelled and fascinated me: Mumbai. The wonder I feel for it is kind of geeky, actually; it has to do with books. For years I've been reading about these mythical names: Malabar Hill, Nariman Point, Chowpatty, Mahalaxmi, Breach Candy, Haji Ali, Colaba, from the pen of someone I've reassesed as one of the greatest novelists of our times, Salman Rushdie (I stopped reading any of his books in dissapointment after The ground beneath her feet, but hey, I'm a tough reader as you will discover by the end of this post).
In this day and age you will be recommended to read three books about Mumbai: Shantaram, A Fine Balance, and Midnight's Children. On a bit of a broader India read, they will tell you about The God of Small Things, but in my opinion, anything but Rushdie's Midnight's Children is a waste of money.
The book really captures a love for India, it encapsulates what post-independence Indian identity is about. It blends history with customs, geography, superstition and fiction. Rushdie will be labelled a 'magical realist' but what makes him different to all other magical realists is actually something that you have to go back to Bollywood for. You see, all the ridiculous, unbelieveable and over-the-top plotlines and dance routines happen in everyone's Bombay. In this year's Bollywood blockbuster, Dhoom:2, the main characters have a gunfight that involves crazy stunts by the bad guy fleeing a cop who shoots at him from a ninja motorbike and another cop who shoots from a helicopter, while bad-guy ROLLERBLADES down Marine Drive, Mumbai's favourite beachside stroll. It makes you think "Oh my god, I was there just an hour ago!" instead of "Hey, that's ludicrous!"
What does this have to do with a Booker Prize winner? Just add heaps more depth to it. Midnight's Children is the story of Saleem Sinai, a kid who is born on the stroke of midnight on the day that India's independence was declared. By the time he is 9, he discovers that he, along with the other 500 or so kids who were born in the first hour of independent India, has supernatural powers. He is a rich kid from Bombay who grows up in what is still Mumbai's poshest suburb, Malabar Hill, down Warden road not far from the Breach Candy club, which boasts a pool in the shape of India, where as he puts it, a Brit could swim freely in India without having to cross paths with an Indian. Back in Saleem's (and Rushdie's) childhood this was a segregated club and to this day is still kind of segregated. An American expat who took us to a nightclub on Warden Road, not far from where Saleem grows up, told us that to get in there you have to become a member, and to become a member you need 5 referees who are members of the club and then pay a million rupees (about 300,000 aussie dollars).
Saleem's nemesis is an untouchable from Mumbai's northern slums, Shiva, who was also born on the stroke of midnight and shares equally powerful gifts. They become a symbol for India's extremes of rich and poor, and their childhood evolves in metaphorical correspondence with the early history of India's independence. When Saleem is sick, there's some sort of trouble in the country, when Shiva and Saleem are at their most antagonistic, there are riots on the streets. Saleem is a rich Muslim, Shiva is a poor Hindu. It is subtly woven genius all plotted on actual places. It gives it so much more significance than, say, Garcia Marquez's imagined Macondo, and is as saturated, exhuberant and kitsch as India itself.
So, that's what really makes Midnight's Children the definitive book about India. I'll give A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry the benefit of the doubt - but personally I thought the guy can't write dialogue. The God of Small Things by Arundati Roy is a cute, easy read, and if you're into that, I won't hold it against you. I kind of liked it. But do not bother with Shantaram, it's a badly written, tall traveller's tale that he just wants to be true. I have no idea why a lecturer at RMIT's Professional Writing and Editing tried to sell Gregory David Roberts to us as a publishing phenomenon back when Shantaram was first published. Roberts is a bland cup of soy chai brewed in St Kilda. Rushdie is every pot of sweet masala chai brewed on every corner in Mumbai.

Goodbye, from the comforts of Melbourne,
Luis.

Moi at Rancho Relaxo!

2006-12-04T00:09:00.000-08:00

Well, Anna Leigh & Lu have abandoned me; I must therefore roam the plains of India solo. Waah!!! I suggested the manifestation of some mysterious illness so they could all stay in India a little while longer but they don’t listen! The lure of pristine, palm-fringed, sand-swept beaches, amazing food, beach shacks and dirt-cheap cocktails just wasn’t enough… tee hee. Sorry kiddos. Don’t mean to rub it in. I miss you guys heaps! Waah!! Altho, you all really must try the local Goan firewater feni- alcoholic beverage made of distilled cashew apple juice…bit of oomph there!

I am currently at Palolem Beach. Bee-lined here straight from Mumbai (after a brief necessary stop at Panjim). This is the most southern of Goa’s developed beaches. Because it is the furthest away it is also the quietest, which means I only get “Conichiwa! Japan? Korea?” once every 30 metres rather than once every 3 metres. I’m staying in bamboo hut on stilts for about 5 bucks a day. I share a room with a lizard who perches on the beam above the fan, eating the mossies I hope.

I could get used to this beachy beach lifestyle. My days generally go something like this: Wake up, go for a stroll along the beach, get a masala chai at one of the cafes, watch the boat people take tourists on dolphin watching tours. Then I go to a yoga class for a couple of hours (yes anna! There is an awesome yoga instructor here. She is gold compared to the phonies we’ve encountered so far!). After yoga, I have breakfast (trying to eat something different every day, costs about $1.50 max). I then read a little bit, mite take a nap… do some kung fu practice, go on the net… In the late afternoon I hit the beach where I remain till after sunset. After that I have a shower, eat dinner and drink GnTs…Yep, could definitely get used to this! Only in India can one sunbathe next to sacred cows and their inevitable canine companions. They just want to be near you, these animals!

Arriving at Palolem makes the horrendous 14 hour bus ride to get here worthwhile, and horrendous it was! For those of you who don’t know the story, here are a few clues:
1) She takes a 14+ hour long haul bus ride.
2) Simultaneously, she contracts a bout of food poisoning.
3) She misses the bag… about 10 minutes into the bus ride…
Is this Murphy’s Law or what?
Understandably, the two American chicks sitting in front of me were mighty pissed-off,! But the poor old Indian woman next to me was kind enough to offer me a lozenge. Bless her little socks.

Anyway, I better go and continue my bid to rid the “work-or-idle syndrome” (I see what you mean now James). I’d post some photos but since the company is three team members down, my pool of accessible resources has substantially diminished!

Not too long till I get back now.
Miss you all and long cuddles! Mwah, mwah!
Moi.

and then there was one

2006-12-01T21:57:00.000-08:00

we left moi on this street with tears popping out of her cute little eyes
after sleeing off the great vomit she had on the street eariler 5 stars moi
after getting her a taxi to go to a bus to go to goa "on her own ok " by her self"

it was a ball tearer of a sad event indeeedy.

MOI : how are you going do you need us to mail some vegie mite ??
did you go ok on the bus are you sitting on the beach right now
drinking a martiny
is goa like the post cards hmmm
we all stuffed some ruppees in ya purse
when you wern't looking so i buy
your self something shiny
much love from the rest of the company

Bollywood stars

2006-12-01T19:10:00.000-08:00

So, it only took about ten minutes walking down the main gringo strip in Bombay, Colaba Causeway, for someone to ask Leigh "Hello friend, would you like to be an extra in a Bollywood movie?" Of course, one of our main desires when entering one of India's (and the world's) wierdest cities, was to get scouted to be anonymous background actors in a Bollywood extravaganza. We were going to be payed 500 rupees (about 20 bucks), so obviously we weren't going to do it for the money. Any other details were from the beginning quite sketchy - all we new is that we were going to be in a "music scene". We met the guy outside the Causeway Macca's where a group of about 20 other whitie males (girls and Indian lookalikes were not required) were waiting to be taken to Film City for their 2 seconds of fame. When we get to the set Leigh is issued with a bad-arse leather jacket, another two guys get waiter outfits, others get other random jackets. It's about 30 degrees outside, so getting in the air-conditioned warehouse set was relief. This is when we start to discover the rest of the details: the shoot was for an upcoming movie called something like "Cafila", which will basically be about a group of Indian immigrants that get conned by a dude who promises them legal entry into the UK, but abandons them somewhere in Bulgaria. So they're stranded in a non-descript "Russian Bar" and decide to break into a song and dance number. All the whities raise their glasses with the Indians and, out of nowhere, a group of five Russian hotties (pro dancers, just about the only authentic thing on set) dressed in shimmering bellydancer outfits come out to join in the fun. Why not? Leigh was at the center of the action, leaning by the bar next to one of the main actors who encourages him to raise his glass. At one stage they realised they didn't have enough random white guys so they started getting people "from all over the world" to be part of this Russian Bar scene. That's when they pulled me onto the set. Their instructions were "you're just standing here, walking to over there, I don't know, probably to the stairs. All of a sudden you see the dancing and think 'what this is' and you start enjoying, Ok? Remember, enjoying, enjoying!" Leigh and all the other guys were enjoying as per instructed early in the morning, until they found out the shoot would go until about 9 pm. After the free veg thali at lunchtime, we decided to dump the bad-arse leather jacket and resume our enjoying Bombay elsewhere, forfeiting our 500 Rs payment. Our absence, according to other extras we bumped into later that day, was barely noticed...

Ah the black Vegmite of home

2006-11-23T22:41:00.000-08:00

i tell ya curry berakfast lunch and tea gives you the squirts
ya need nome roughage some fiber some vegmite ha ha

and so vith my trusty jar of vegmite with me at the breakfast table
each morning i have learnt how to order toast with cheese and then
i loveing add lashings of black gold and and much on a strange
half way familliar breakfast follow this with two boiled egges and then

it's time for scooters yesterday i took luis to the scooter hir shop now at first when the gut showed him how to ride i was worried but he got the trick of it fast as you are forced to in india an we were off to find the petrol station and the off to the lake at udipur

now baisicaly the road around this paticular lake is like a freaking grand prix track wide lanes minimal traffic it time to seee just what speed this scooter can reach only at full pelt lookiing

down to the dash you realise the spedo dosent work an is indicating 0 kms

it's things like this that helped us coin the phrase "INDIA LAND OF DOGE"

Having returned to the hotel at dusk the concerige asked us if he could siphen the remaining fuel out of the tank an put it in his scooter before we took our scooties back to the hire placce in exchange for a lift to the bus station on check out day.

P.S. in india the food is great but i can't wait to eat a steak

Land of doge

da da da da ba ba na na ba da da doo do do

2006-11-23T22:29:00.000-08:00

George Lucas wrote starwars purely based on a holiday to India.

This is our newest hypothesis

~ in the desert you can shine a torch in the sky and it looks like a light sabre

~ there are really old men walking around who look and talk like Yoda

~ street bazars are identical to the bar in the planet Tattoine

~ camels sound like Chewbacca

~ Babafet lives in Jaisalmer

~ riding a scooter through indian traffic requires the same skill as riding a flying scooter in the Ewok planet

~ you can find all of princess Leah's costumes here

~ Indian men are like Lando Calrizian: they make you feel at home then sleaze on your girl and betray you

~ and finally, Darth Vader lives in a Jain temple in Ranagpur

Hooning around Udaipur

2006-11-23T22:17:00.000-08:00

Leigh was the first to experience Indian traffic first hand. I was somewhat scared to do so. You see, Indian traffic is quite unlike any traffic anywhere in the world. There's a very open interpretation of lanes, people don't use their mirrors (motorcyclists actually prefer to fold them in), constantly use their horn (meaning "i'm coming" or "get out of the way"), forget about helmets, and pretty much share the road with pedestrians, bicycles, motorcycles, scooters, rickshaws, carts, cars, buses, trucks, sacred cows, stray dogs, and the odd elephant or camel (complete with French tourist on top).
So when Leigh discovered the Indians' love affair with motorbikes, he hired his first scooter in Jaisalmer. From then he was hooked and I thought he was mad. Once in Udaipur he managed to convince me to hire one too and go hooning around. The practice run at Heera's motorcyle and bycicle hire - a couple of laps in the guy's 5x5-metre garage - wasn't the most confident display of riding ever seen, but Heera was happy to let me go out on the road in one of his automatic scooters.
After the first few minutes of downright fear, I discovered that Indian roads really represent the concept of organised chaos. It just seems to flow: everyone is so focused on dodging everything that it just works. You beep at pedestrians/cyclists, dodge them ever-so-slightly over to your right, if a bigger vehicle is trying to dodge you they will beep to let you know. Slow down for incoming rickshaws or sacred cows as they're fairly unpredictable, and you'll be right.
Ended up having a whale of a time riding around the residential areas of Udaipur and the local markets, where no gringos are in sight. Noticed that unlike anywhere else we've been in Rajasthan, there's a large amount of hot Indian chicks on scooters. The possibilities for decoration are endless: tiger-print seats, faux-fur seats, double or triple seats, hot pink bikes, spikes poking outwards from the wheels' axis, flags on ninja bikes, etc.
The makes and sizes are as varied too: there's anything from tiny Bajajs and Vespas, to the huge Hondas and Suzukis. But our favourite so far has been the Royal Enfield.
We're off to Mumbai today. I read in one of those lonely planet guides that the best way to get around is on a motorbike. Judging by Delhi traffic, I think I'll give it a miss, but you never know... anything is possible in India.

bum chika bum

2006-11-17T06:37:00.000-08:00

Apologies for the delay, but we were just out in the middle of the desert, about 150 kms east of the border with Pakistan, a little town called Jaisalmer, were there is no such thing as broadband (go figure) and all internet cafes have computers old as the hills, so posting pictures was not an option.

But for our desert adventure, we had to go out even further, another 45 kms towards the border to a little town called Khuri, where we got hooked up with four camel drivers and six camels. Their boss, Davi, spoke English remarkably well for someone who claimed never having gone to school. Basically the guy has quite a knack for mimicking tourists' accents, so after three days of riding through desert dunes, we had taught him to speak like he had been born in Broadmeadows. His crazy antics have provided the name for this post, as he had a liking for riding across the sand dunes yelling "bum chika bum, bum chickaree, chickaracka chickaracka bum!". An that became a warcry of sorts over the length of our safari.

In exchange, he and his crew taught us all about riding camels, how to make them sit down, get up, walk, trot, stop scratching and getting them away from edible bushes... The sand dunes were an amazing sight, especially at dawn and sundown, when the guys started cooking up what the company agrees is the best possible camp food on the planet: they actually cooked up rice, veg curry, dahl, their own chapatis, and chai with goats' milk depending upon availability (i.e. whether there were any goat herds around).

Spent two nights under the stars, and on the last one, we were keen on getting their cooking secrets, so we had their main cook, a guy we called Hello Man give us a class. (We called him that because "hello" was the only English he spoke - it was really his way of drawing your attention towards anything from dinner to antelope running among the bushes or a big branch about to wack you on the head).

So there it is, we have truly become desert people. There will be an Indian campfire cooking night coming to a house in Collingwood near you...

Today we're spending the night in a place about 400 kms to the south, Jodpur, after which we'll set out further south to a town called Udaipur on our ever-reliable Hindustani Motors Ambassador Classic.

Bum chicka bum

Luis

Penniless in Pushkar

2006-11-08T22:45:00.000-08:00

I never knew I had it in me but when it comes to bargaining in India the HK-bred haggling bi-atch takes over! I completely agree with the notion of a progressive tourist tax but when the starting price is 500% the local domestic price, you don't wanna be taken for a fool! I've managed to get most things for a little over half the first quoted price, pissing quite a few of the vendors off. Oh well, boo-hoo. It's actually a really tedious affair- trying not to get super-ripped off with everything you do. Anna and I even bargained with the yoga instructor who we suspect is a bit dodge... In the middle of a lesson, a girl came up looking for the instructor and exclaimed "You're not Yogis Yogi!!". Hmm....

Anyhoo, some things we have learnt about bargaining-
1. Offer them half of what they ask for and go up by silly incremental amounts.
2. If buying quite a few things, offer them a price and if they don't accept, pretend you'll only get a couple of the things from the bundle..
3. Flirting works sometimes but you don't wanna get the little Indian men too excited. Don't want any red-rocket action...
4. When they say "no no that price is not possible", you reply: "Anything is possible in India!".

LOve to all,
Moi.

2006-11-08T22:30:00.000-08:00

cow, Line of rickshaw men, holy man,
holy fraud man, dust, beads shop,
motorbike, scooter, cows, street kids
street resturant,

ahhh the town of pushkar finds the company well
our driver gehan gir who now has many nick names
papa, zing zang, Sick Chuk (teacher), is resting in the hotel
and we are walking around the city shoping for trinkets

the other day we went to a tailor in the town of jaipur
and all had our own clothes tailored the men in the
shop keep ofering chai tea softdrink and ciggareates
as the took our mesurments and hagled over prices

and this little rat ran to and fro now and again

Luis look a million bucks in his new suit and i
now have the coat of an indian prince and two pairs
of pinstriped pants !!!!!!!

Computers, international white people, henna tatto,
celing fan, dust,

Soon we are going to the desert to go on a big camel ride
Alchemist style this will be fun Whoopie
Camells are really really big really much bigger than you
thought you couldent jump down no sir need a step lader

yes yes !!!

Leigh

big trouble in little jaipur!

2006-11-06T19:49:00.000-08:00

so being the adventurous lot we are we think hey let's go out on the town, eat some street food, find a nice little chai stand, get to know the locals ya know..
so we get about 5 mins down the road when moi and i realise we're the only women on the street..being hard core kung fu-ers we don't let this phase us until we discover we're being hotly pursued by about 15 boys ranging from the age of 10 to oooh just about 19..leigh was doing his best to draw them off with his afro swaying in the jaipur wind but the whole thing came a-kimbo when they had a go at accidentally bumping into moi's breasts and grabbing at my ass like it was some kind of ripe peach!!
well!!
i know i'm supposed to respect the culture and blah blah but i'd reached the point of no touchy touchy, span around van damme style grabbed onto that wondering hand and gave them a good talking to about western women, politics, feminism etc and that it's NOT OK to grab us..they scattered quick sticks..and after that so did we!!
crickey
there's a lesson from the dr they won't forget fast ;)
hehe

The Crapper

2006-11-03T06:01:00.000-08:00

Well i did my first indian shit yesterday and woah mamma....

No no it wasen't horrific they had a toliet just like at home the strangest thing was
there was a guy wating when i got done sitting in a deck chair and you gotta give
him some coin wich was a problem cause my wallet was in my bag in the office
where we where booking our driver

but the guy who was showing me around helped out and every thing was fine...

my hair is driving the indians batty today at lunch the waiter came up and
started to dig into my head calling out to his friends and exclaming it's real or orignal
as the say so many people have stoped looked and groped the now i am charging 5 ruppes
for a feel

and yes we have a driver....

He is the INDIAN MAN really like allidans genie we meet him first this morning and he is still
takeing care of us now we been driveing all day after stopping for ( bannas lunch in a crazy hoptel where they serve kingfisher beer in tallies ) we finish he is going to drive us back to our hotel which

is a dirtly littly cave but nice with four beds pushed togther a painting all over one wall
a toliet a tap and a bucket ahhhh the indian shower !!!!

yesterday we all needed to cross a really big street with thousands of cars rushing this way and that no crossing no lights nothing we were like hmmm how do you get over presently a marching band walks up and starts off into the traffic so like in the movies we jumped in behind and got to the other side

well it time to go so i better go

TA TA

From leigh leigh

Smoking in a grubby internet cage in Agra...

2006-11-03T05:47:00.000-08:00

This is such a bizarre place...

No concept of road lanes, trucks and rickshaws that request you "HORN PLEASE" and, best of all, smoking allowed everywhere. Leigh's loving this of course.

We got ourselves a driver in Delhi, good ol' Jahangir, who's taking us over the next 21 days across Rajastan stopping and buying stuff at Indian prices wherever we want to. We're driving a HM (that's Hindustani Motors) Ambassador - no air con, (unfortunately) no radio, but what it does have is nice embroidered cushions, ornate tissue boxes, and best of all, a driver that has a love for beedis!

Let me say, Agra is a bit of a dump. Shit everywhere, cows everywhere, beggars everywhere, like downtown San Salvador times 100. But, Jahangir has given us the lowdown on the history of the place (Leigh's recorded some of the stories on his minidisk) all the Mughal emperors, etc. We start tomorrow at the Taj Mahal at the crack o' dawn, then the red fort and after that breakfast and off to Jaipur in Rajastan we go.

So, it's good to be alive and in this fabulous country... oh did I forget? BANANAS ARE FUCKING CHEAP! I've been getting in to the guava too...

Anyways, we've got some Kinfishers in the car getting warm, so we better scoot. Here's some pictures for you to check out in the meantime...

Luis

Delhi is our bitch!

2006-11-03T05:44:00.000-08:00

was is ever in any doubt?
the crew have conquered the big bad streets of delhi without getting
a) ripped off (too badly at least)
b) terribly lost (how could you with a friendly guide at every corner??)
c) delhi belly (who the hell invented that rumour anyway?) our bellys have in fact been tip top and we've managed to sample some mighty fine indian food so far..

here's what we DID achieve..

we crossed a road...sure it took some time, guts, and a little insanity but we made it to the other side, and boy was it invigorating!
we caught a bus!! yes the local, no chickens and all for a measly 5 rupees (although the guy tried to charge us double on the way back...who the hell does he think we are?? amateurs??)
furthered leigh's musical career, damn that biy is STAR material..our favourite comment so far? "is it original??" he's at the point of charging 5 rupees for a feel..we're in the money baby!!

stay tuned for photos and more exciting stories..

love

the team

The company Prepares

2006-10-29T20:40:00.002-08:00

well.. There is one sleep left and tommorow at about midnight the all star company is rolling out

Tactical operations officer Luis is running around buying things to the tune of shorts, socks, hankies, lollipops, elephant whistles, goodluck charms... those little necessities

we are currently chatting with our man on the ground in India about renting a car at the air-o-port.

The goood lady doctor is a bit nervours about arriving at night an negotiating little pieces of important information but is being reassured by our man on the ground in india

Our most beautiful Moria is certainly using her vast amounts of charm to ensure the greater goood is and will be in order...

And i, our captain of Australiania am currently munching on a steak and bacon pie wich i am washing down with some of that bloody nice bundy ginger beer, after which i will put on me thongs and wander down to the bottlo and savour the taste of a selection of our wonderful beers...

well i'll have to leave you there folks look out for our word from NEW DELHI....

foreign correspondent

2006-10-29T20:17:00.000-08:00

Another member has joined the team..
Ms Hollie Sparkles Lui
foreign correspondent in Hong Kong
Sparkles will be keeping the team up to date on the latest fashions to hit asia, in order that the team will be looking hip at all times. Phew! I don't know what they'd do without her..

meet the company directors

2006-10-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

miss moi moi "l'amour" o'hagan
PR
ms l'amour has advanced skills in espionage, devilish charm and enough spunk to melt the heart of any hard arsed indian hotelier..her role will incorporate high level negotiations, financial transactions and occasionally getting us out of any trouble we may land ourselves in..

sir luis alexandro gonzales
Directions and tactical specialist

as the only one who's read the lonely planet cover to cover, we'll be relying on luis for all things directional..he'll be counted on for what train to catch, where the train is going to and how many chickens to have seated on your lap at any one time

"Crazy" leigh robertson
This young man is to undertake the most critical role thus far: Australiana
he'll be called upon to regularly use phrases such as "well chop off me legs and call me shorty" as well as display a firm knowledge of australian sporting greats such as ricky ponting (at least that's what he told us in the interview)

Dr Anna Sidis
Medical
The Dr as she is affectionately known, armed with panadol, a few bandaids and a homeopathy for travellers kit will have the troublesome task of keeping the team healthy during the tour. This could quite possibly involve the holding back of hair and application of the old "there, there" in times of uncertainty. Having memorised the symptoms of most tropical diseases along with that tropical disease known in the medical world as "you've smoked too much hash" our team members are undoubtedly, in good hands..

2006-10-22T21:07:00.000-07:00

hello all concerned, this is the travel blog of

Luis Gonzalez, Leigh Robertson, Anna Sidis And Moria O'Hagan

and we are all going to India for a holiday YAY !!!

feel free to check in and read our funny stories

and look at our colourful pictures along the way

things will be getting under way soon as blast off

is in just seven days !!!!!