Jo Herrings Adventures

national pride in full swing And my first day home. I woke early with the sun at 4.45am with the curse of long distance travel - jetlag. So I put on my last clean dry clothes and my trainers and went for a walk around the neighbourhood.  My neighbourhood isn't like any other in the world this week. Nor is it the same as it was a year ago. I live in East London, the hosts of the 2012 Olympics. Olympic Stadium from the Canal And what a difference a year makes and an injection of overwhelming funds! My local park will play host to a huge video screen showing the games (I'm excited to be having my welcome home party there) and has a beautiful portrait exhibition along the arenas temporary walls of Londoners hailing from all around the world.  Olympic Athletes greet me of a morning On my walk around the borough I found new adventure parks, a lake side organic cafe (with its token Kiwi staff), a group of runners from around the world all gleefully saying "good...

Where the water comes from the tap, unfiltered and the vegetables aren’t stewed or fried. Where, the wifi works well and I have a front door key and a comfortable mattress to languish. Where, I won’t leave home without my Oyster card and I know the direction to where I am going. Where the buses don’t take 8-12 hours and the trains don’t last longer than 6 hours – for a long long weekend! Where, I won’t be stared at (I doubt!). Where dining out will be a luxury not a necessity. Where I have a fridge – and can cook in a kitchen. Where, car horns will be drowned out with Ambulance and Police sirens. Where, the parks are places to enjoy in daylight and only a few live during the night. Where, Pimms is on tap and fish’n’chips is a staple. Where, no one asks me where I am from, we are all foreign here. Where everyone uses the toilet and those truly uncouth few get arrested for pissing in public. Where I have my own washing machine and can ensure my delicates don’t get mangled. Where, I ha...

Well I’m on the plane home to London and what awaits me I really don’t know. The reality of life will no doubt be masked by the mayhem of the Olympics which I am so delighted to be attending (with Tor to the Trampolining…yes it is an Olympic sport!). But the truth of the matter is - What next? Tribulations like sorting out a phone number, all my travel insurance claims, a tax rebate and well when that runs out a job. But right now my greatest joy is heading home to the flat in East London mere minutes from the Olympic action and catching up with family and friends. I have loved the contact from friends and family over the past year, and Tom & Vicky’s blog comments, without which I wouldn’t have survived the lonely days of solo travel. So readers take a bow, You have encouraged me on and this is your raucous cheer “HOORAH” from high in the air over….Kuwait I believe. I have been enjoying writing this blog and for the coming weeks I have a number of posts which need to ...

I was delightfully welcomed to the city by my good friend and former colleague Partho Bhattacharya. Partho is a Bengali who has lived in Tech cities across the world for the past 30 years and was visiting the city on business for the week. It was too good an opportunity to have a hug so I high tailed it to the bright lights of Bollywood. Its been 4 months since I saw someone I know so the familiarity was so wonderfully welcome for this solo spirit. As I got ripped off on my taxi ride from the train station I was keenly told that Mumbai is still Bombay to the locals so I learnt just like Myanmar/Burma it takes a generation or two of change a name. So for me it was Hello Mumbai, bring on Bollywood! My intention to get to the Ellora caves and Ajunta inland from the city was curtailed with ill health. There is nothing like relaxing the body, for it to inturn go into ‘reject and sleep mode’. I was brought back to health with some antibiotics and good company. Only sad that I could n...

No one ever wants the shits and to have it for my last 2 months makes my time on the Big Adventure less than enjoyable. It started in Nepal on the Everest Base Camp trek and ceased in the plains of India until I reached the Himalayas again in the foothills in McLoed Ganj and then amongst the mountains again in Manali. Then I’ve been welcomed back to the plains in Chandigarh with the need for the loo. It’s a real pace killer. So now I am packing that bad feeling into metaphysical suitcase and throwing it into a holy waterway (there seems plenty here in India) and making my way to the bright lights of Bollywood. And god damnit I am not going to be sick doing it. UPDATE:I’ve met an old friend from London in Mumbai and his first comment was “ Oh Jo you have been in th 3 rd world too long. You need to get home and eat ”. In an attempt to street feast on something new (Meat!) I discovered that its not just Delhi Belly but Bombay Belly that claims you here. Oh the joy. One week be...

Revisiting Shanti Hotel rooftop  Debs and I stayed in 4 years before... In April 2008 on my first visit to India with my good friend Deborah Kelly we made headways for a day at the Wonder of the World and the greatest monument to love in the world. The beautiful Taj Mahal. I could wax lyrically about this day but in truth the security guard wouldn't let me take in tampons and we were to spend all day in there so I had to try and explain what a tampon was to an Indian man....heavens! Alas we langished in the grounds from lunch time till well past sunset. Taking in the changing light on the marble masterpiece. And as we enjoyed photos on "Diana's chair" just four days after arriving in India I promised I would come back. To see the Taj Mahal from the otherside of the river...and the Red Fort down the road which looked pretty stunning in the distance. So here I am four and a half years later standing at the gates of the Taj Mahal - but never to re-enter. I coul...

Chandigarh, capital of the Punjab and the brain child of urban planners, architects and politicians. Hardly surprising then that I found despite having a public toilet ever 400m people still pissed on the street. Almost in protest to the uniformity of this modern city.  I feel a little history lesson is in order to explain the significance. Once upon a time there was a man name Gandhi. He believed in non-violence and wore no shoes. I came to realise whilst visiting India his loincloth folding was unique but the shoeless act not so much. Anyhow. He along with the many millions of Indians living in Hindustan wanted the British to leave them be and to create an Independent nation. In doing this the British would only agree if they could create one last marker of their legacy other than the railways ( here here old chap, I say, you have left them something truly remarkable, chin chin ), this would be to "help" the Hindu majority deal with the "lawless Muslims" and...