ronshavreen

“THE ROSE RED CITY HALF AS OLD AS TIME”

We went on an ‘organised’ trip from Aquaba. It was a couple of hours in a private taxi with a driver who had mastered about 36 words of English which led to very stitled conversation.

When we arrived at Petra our organised tour included a private guide. We weren’t offered a choice but the young man we got (who told us he was a medical student) spoke reasonable English and was sufficiently knowledgable. So the tip is, make sure you can understand your guide before setting off.

Petra itself is an amazing place. Unlike modern cities, where buidlings are close together and there is some degree of planning and organisation, Petra is very an-hoc. There were buildings and cave dwellings, there were houses with no space between and areas with no buildings at all. There are open spaces and narrow defiles. After two hours we were abandoned by the guide (you only get two hours paid for) about a mile from the entrance. There was still a huge amount to do. There were view points to climb up to, public buildings to explore and further reaches of the city to discover. It could easily have taken a couple of days to make a worthwhile visit. We had a couple of hours. It was December, it was grey, it was drizzling and it was cold. If you go in the winter be prepared to wrap up warmly! We went back to the entrance and found a restaurant serving hot food and prepared ourselves for another two hours of 36 word conversation. If it hadn’t been for Petra it would have been an awful day.

I went to Kandy (I don’t know why it’s listed as Kandi) in both 1982 and 1995. It’s an interesting and attractive town dominated by the Temple of the Tooth at its centre. There are sights and visits to make but its easy to get sucked into the tourist trap of ‘My uncles gem shop’, ‘My brother’s batik factory’ and so on. The square outside the Temple has a selection of beggars in various states of decrepitude, some of whom can be very persistent and demanding. A trip into the surrounding countryside is worthwhile. It is easy to hire a car/taxi and driver for a half-day tour. If you’re lucky you’ll see working elephants and visit quarries where women break rocks into road-stone using nothing but lump hammers. They daily risk damage to their eyes from flying chips of rock. There are temples and shrines, little villages, wonderful views of river valleys complete with the local women washing their clothes, monkeys, bamboo scaffolding (amazing), fruit bats and a wonderful Botanical Garden.

If you’re lucky you’ll arrive at the right time to see the fabulous Esala Perehera. I’d even recommend timing your arrival to co-incide with this. For a full, detailed account see my piece about this event listed under Esala Perehera.

THIS IS A VERY LONG ACCOUNT OF AN ABSOLUTELY SENSATIONAL EXPERIENCE.

The Esala Perehera is not a place but an event. But it is an event which happens in Kandy. It takes place in the run up to the August new moon so its calendar date is fluid, it may be as early as the start of August or not until after the middle of the month. It is a religious festival during which a tooth (or a replica of it), found in the remains of the Buddah’s funeral pyre, is paraded through the town for everyone to see.

Normally the tooth is kept in the most inaccesible sanctum in the Temple of the Tooth. This temple stands above the town which turn sits in the bottom of the bowl of hills that surrounds it.
The temple is approached by a long ramp at the top of which you leave your shoes. Then one can respectfully walk around the temple and its courtyards barefooted. The temple itself is well worth a visit. Many educated and fluent English speaking guides can be found waiting near the gates to act as your guide. A generous tip/contribution to their fund is a reasonable anticipation on their parts.

But I have to write about the Perehera. The Buddah’s tooth is taken from its home deep within the Temple and paraded through the town. It’s paraded every evening for (I think) 8 days. It is amazing. It’s was one of those experiences that was totally surprising. I had NO idea of what to expect. I had no anticipation or assumptions. Arriving in Sri Lanka at the right time was pure fluke. Being informed about it by a Sri Lankan travel agent who just happened to get my name from the airline, was a stoke of sublime luck. Being accompanied to the route of the parade from our lodging house by an English couple cycling home from Australia gave that little extra comfort that can be reassuring in a strange town, at a strange time in a strange land.

The Tooth is paraded around the town on the back of an elephant. This is the temple tusker and he has been specially trained for the job. He has lived most of his life in the temple, had huge amounts of human contact, has been well fed and well trained. He is decorated; draped with a huge sheet across his back from shoulder to rump, the sides hang down to his knees like curtains. This sheet is decorated with metal studs and dishes in patterns, stars and the outlines of flowers . He wears a nose cover that covers his forehead and runs all the way down the truck. In colour and decor this often matches the sheet draping over his back. His ears and cheeks may also be decorated with coloured powders or chalks, his tusks may have metal bands or coloured ropes encircling them. He looks magnificent but he is not alone. Indeed he is the last in a procession of elephants that may number thirty or forty in the early days of the week and up to one hundred and fifty by the end. New arrivals join the procession on a daily basis. Many will be working elephants released for a few days from their efforts in the forests. Some come from many miles away – I was told ‘all over the island’. Every day until the final day the parade takes place in the evening. A procession of elephants shuffle past, moving slowly, stopping for a minute or two before shuffling slowly on. Down on the pavement the crowd can be four, six or even eight deep. In many places moving is impossible; the pavements and narrow streets are packed with people, mostly local, who have come on some kind of pilgrimage to see the procession and its climax, the casket with the tooth inside. The whole procession is lit by coconut braziers. Teenage boys walk along with the parade. They carry metal braziers which they hoist above their heads on the end of a metal pole. The braziers burn fiercely giving off flame and light. At times the boys will lower their brazier and tap it vigorously on the road. Ash, embers and burnt husk will drop on the floor to be replaced by an army of smaller boys who run back and forth with baskets of coconut husks. Other small boys zig-zag back and forth between the husk carriers with watering cans full of paraffin which they pour over the new, unburnt load in the refreshed braziers. I hear rumours that the braziers are being phased out. If that is so it is a sad loss as the braziers were central to the atmosphere of the parade. Through all this the elephants shuffle on. Around their necks they wear bells which chink and click as they make their ponderous progress. Occasionally a chime rings out, perhaps as one of the giants flaps its ears or waves its trunk. The bells are attached to heavy chains which are wound round the elephants’ necks and attached to their feet. In 1959 the elephants were not shackled in this way. During one terrifying evening one of the visiting animals trod on a pile of ash and embers. Unfortunately the embers were still glowing hot and as the heat penetrated the elephant’s foot it panicked and began a stampede. Fourteen people were killed that night and 125 injured. Perhaps it’s no surprise that they want to phase out the coconut burners.

The elephants are the stars of the show but there is much more to see and hear. The very head of the parade is lead by men carrying heavy whips that crack like gunshots. There are fire spinners who whirl flaming spheres on the end of ropes. They jump and duck each others’ spinning flames, sweeping and cartwheeling the brands in incredible patterns. The procession is accompanied by troupes of dancers and drummers who come from many parts of the island. The dancers – all male when I saw the parade – were close to dervishes. Thier dancing was frantic. They leaped, jumped, spun, run, twisted, turned – all at a pace and with a precision that was astonishing. There were young teenagers and older men. They were dressed in baggy sarong type wraps made of richly coloured material, often decorated with studs or metallic braid. The wore hats vaguely reminiscent of helmets and a metallic breats plate; and all danced barefooted. By the end of the week their feet were swollen, bruised and lacerated but the dancing was infused with passion, emotion and excitement. They wanted to dance despite the personal cost.

The dancing was accompanied by drumming. Each dance troupe had its own drum section and every section was very similar in size and repertoire. The smaller drums were stuck under one arm, the larger carried on a sash or harness. They were played with a bent stick, ten, fifteen or twenty of more all at the same time. The rhythyms and pace were frantic, there were subtle interplays and changes of structure, there was sweat and gusto and as abruptly as they started the drumming would stop, the dancers would halt and everyone would have a rest: but three elephants down the road another troupe would be in the middle of entrancing themselves and the onlookers with their own frenetic, pulsating contribution to the evening’s parade.

Towards the end of the parade and number of men struggle past with large hooks through the flesh of their backs. Long ropes were attached to these hooks and other men pulled on the ends of the ropes so the skin was pulled and stretched backwards. Each pierced man might have six or eight hooks through his back. Whether they change roles or do the same thing for eight successive days and nights I don’t know.

It can easily take well over an hour for the parade to wind its way past any one spot on its journey through the town. It is time well spent and should be an experience on every traveller’s list. It is unforgettable (I went in 1982 and again in 1995) and accessible. It is a procession with real meaning. I sensed both excitement and reverence. Tourists are welcome but in no way is this a performance for tourists; as a tourist expect to be vastly outnumbered and lost in a crowd that focuses on the procession, not you. There are small boys who will pass throught the crowd, tug on your sleeve and ask you to buy a single sweet or perhaps post card. Go with a few small coins and a generous nature but don’t take a lot, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were also some pick-pockets amongst the crowd.

For those of us from from western cultures this could be the most accessible and most understandable oriental festival. It is domestic, peaceful and dramatically exciting. It is an experience I will never forget and quite unlike any other. Go if you can.

The Malvern Hills are a gentle rippleback of hills running up the western edge of the Severn Valley. There is little that is hostile or threatening about them, they are old enough to be ‘tame’ hills. It is in this that lies their particular charm. The Malvern Hills Conservators is the venerated body that cares for this string of hills which are neat, tidy and well manicured. There are valued facilites circling their base; loos, bus routes, pubs and cafes, car-parks, antique shops and hotels. But they are still hills and a walk along their length, climbing two beacon hill and crossing only three roads is an significant achievment.

Such a walk is accompanied by extensive views to both sides of the hills. You can see all the way from the Cotswolds to the Black Mountains. You can be burnt by the sun or blown off the hills by the wind. Up on the hills you are in a different world. A twenty minute hike lifts you above the habitation line and you are in a world of grazing sheep, bracken and open sky. As you look down you can see, in detail, the world you have left behind; roads, cars, commerce, technology. Up here you are away from it, if only to run the dog for half-an-hour.

Few hills are as accessible as the Malverns. Few have such stunning views, such domestic care or such an inviting appearance. Whilst missing the majesty of even a small range of mountains, they have a form that draws the eye and leaves an lingering impression. They are comfortable, well used hills, well worth the emotional and economic investment the surrounding communities make in them.

This is a beautiful land.

I chose Tongue as a representative for all of the north west coast of Scotland from Fort William north to Durness and then east to Dounreay. Why Tongue? – because I spent several holidays there in days well before digital photography, and I long to go back. I could have chosen any of many small places around; Applecross, Ullapool, Bettyhill, Gairloch or Lochinver for they all have beauty in plenty.

This is a stark land of broad glens, lonely, towering mountains, majestic lochs and big skies. There are flat roads and steep mountains. It is a land of water with lochs, lochans, ghylls, becks and bogs. It has a stark, lonely beauty that fills me with awe and a spirit of grandeur. It is a land lacking people. There are ruins, isolated farmhouses and small, widespread communities. It breeds independent souls and strongly linked communities.

This is a land that doesn’t change and where changes occur in just seconds. The mountains stand guard for thousands of years at a stretch but this moment’s bright sun in a blue sky foretells rain by the time you can turn round.

It is a long time since I went and I’d love to go back. In the mean time here are Gavin Shaw’s photos of some of those imposing mountains with magical names; Foinavon, Ben Loyal, Suilven, Quinag, Cul Mor and Ben Hope.

http://www.users.zetnet.co.uk/gshaw/nw_frame.htm

This is a hardy land best explored by those prepared to spend a lot of time out of the car and away from the road. There is challenge and joy and much to discover. You can search for garnets and abandoned villages; you can see seals, golden eagles and red deer. There are generous people and those who prefer their isolation and the liberty this implies. A land to be taken slowly. Come here, rest and spend some time here. If you can unwind you will enjoy it.

Actually Topside 0 is a bit unkind. The desert around Exmouth is awe-inspiring as many deserts can be. Exmouth itself was an interesting if not classically attractive town. (Now that is being polite!) But it was an interesting community and welcoming.

But it is underwater where the the real richness of this coast is found . The reef and reef life is profuse and intense. I remember in particular the number of sea snakes, a big manta ray and whales breeching in the distance seen from the dive boat. And even better than that was the diving on the Navy Pier. Big shoals of fish, wobegones, and much else that I can’t remember, all amid a mass of piers and pylons. And now I hear that you can’t dive there anymore, like the Salt Pier in Bonaire. A bit more fun spolit.

I first visited the Dome in 1967, a few months after the six-day war. The Israelis had already pulled down streets of houses and opened up a huge open space in front of the Wailing Wall which is also the wall of the Temple Mount. You passed the Wall, walked up a slope and emerged on the top somewhere between the Dome and the Al-Askah Mosque.

The Dome was amazing. Outside it was beautifully embelished with swirls and patterns, mostly blue on white. It was the inside that was truely glorious though. The floor was covered with layers of rugs and carpets. The light swept in through windows of stained glass giving a bright but richly coloured light which gave pools of sunlight and shadowed, hidden corners. The internal decoration was richer, more complex and more colourful than the outside and over all of this was the typical religious building atmosphere of calm, quiet and contemplation. I was able to sit on the floor for 20 minutes or so just soaking up the atmosphere before quietly walking out.

I went back with my wife 16 years later. We had to pay an admission fee, had to walk round on a quick accompanied tour and had to wait outside for the rest of the group. While we were sitting in the sun, wife got shouted at for exposing her knees. Not a pleasant return, the first time was better.

Now I think I’ve heard that they accept no visitors at all.

I enjoyed my first visit to the Dome. I was impressed by the beauty of the Islamic architecture and decoration. I felt rested and revived by the peaceful, reverent atmosphere. If visitors are no longer welcome I think that’s a shame both for those who are unable to appreciate the beauty and wonder of the place but also because it seems another symbol of the tension of the Middle East when it could perhaps work as a bridge instead.

Bryce was recommended to me (and many hundreds of thousand others) by Alastair Cook on an edition of ‘Letter from America’. By lucky coincidence I was planning my first visit to the States at just that time. He said forget the Grand Canyon, go to Bryce and Zion instead. I was glad I heard the broadcast.
I never saw a picture of Bryce before I went there and had no idea what to expect. Arriving at the Park I pulled up in the first car park and walked through a narrow stip of forest and came out in Fairyland. What a magical place! The late afternoon sunshine made the spires, pinnacles and towers glow with a golden orange. The shapes and stacks of layer upon layer of rocks and boulders just inspired awe and wonder at the natural beauty of the place.
Number 1 on my list of places that I must see again.

Sentinel Dome hangs over the Yosemite Valley opposite Yosemite Falls. It is pretty easy to get to in the summer although I guess it is often snowed in in the winter – we only got half way there on a February visit when the snow was falling and the Park Rangers closed the road even to 4×4s.
Take the road to Glacier Point and park in a lay-by. From here it’s a 20 minute walk to the dome, a far easier hike and climb than that for Half-Dome! The views from here are sensational all the way up, down and across the valley. You can hear the thunder of Yoseite Falls as a backdrop to the birds, bees and occasional car. Returning straight to the car will have given you something to remember but if you want a solitary experience continue to the left along the valley rim. A well marked trail takes you through forest where, if you’re lucky, you might see deer, ground squirrels, porcupine or if you’re really lucky a bear or bobcat. Regularly on this walk you’ll get more views of the valley, all inspiring. Eventually the trail breaks away from the rim and back to the road. The fittest can run off uphill to get the car whilst the rest wait in the sun to be collected.
While you’re on this road it is probably worth going the extra mile up to Glacier Point. This is a real tourist ‘honey-pot’ with cafe, shops, big car-park and so on. However the views over Vernal and Nevada Falls with Half-Dome in the background are not to be missed.

Ron S.

An hour’s drive or so from the tourist development around Ayre’s Rock (Uluru) the Olga’s are a rock world growing out of the desert. Unlike Ayre’s Rock these are divided by canyons and valleys into what appear to be a dozen or so separate monoliths of red stone. Walking the paths and trails you find a world of secret, hidden places and peaceful spots by unexpected pools and rills. There are places of lush vegetation, of barren rock, of deep shadows and of views that stretch away to nothing.
Some of the trails and paths require rough walking and strenuous clambering. It is possible to be on your own here, something that looked impossible for all those trying to climb Uluru. It is also possible to feel more respectful as there don’t appear to be the notices that are found at Uluru pointing out that it is a holy place for the Aborigines who would really rather that you didn’t climb it.
I was able to spend one August afternoon here. It wasn’t too hot and there were enough cars in the car-park to make me feel that I didn’t need to prepared for a great adventure into the outback. It would be wise to take water, especially in the hottest times of year but otherwise a short casual visit will give you plenty to remember even if you do only ‘scratch the surface’.