Breakfast with a Surprise!

Over the last few weeks we had travelled through the Alpujarras and Andalucia without any premeditated plans and had been fortunate enough to find accommodation at every port we called at. Amazing considering that it was the height of the season and we hoped that the second leg of our journey would be as fortunate. We drove out of Cadiz, heading eastwards towards Malaga, along the Costa Del Sol. We were unsure where our next watering hole would be but excited about finding yet another pleasant surprise. Even now as I look back, this drive was endless and torturous at times. For some reason, we could not seem to find somewhere to stop... we just kept going and going. We had set out during the daylight hours and suddenly something was missing... Oh Yes, it was that feature that Spain is so famous for, The SUN!! All I could see were the stars and a big bright moon. We were hungry and tired and needed to stop. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we found what looked by an extended house come restaurant come service station. Our Spanish was as good as our Russian... but with the help of my amazing face expressions, animal sounds and sign language, we managed to order a vegetarian meal. I had explained in my best stressed Spanglish that we did not want any sort of carne (meat) or Pescado (fish) nada nada nada... nothing at all; simply vegetables, cheese and eggs were ok. As the food came out, our eyes lit up and our stomachs jumped with joy at the thought of being fed at last; but as each plate was placed in front of us by a smiling satisfied looking waiter, our hope took a massive plunge into the depths of despair... the plate of chips was immaculately garnished with bacon, the fried eggs were twinned with bacon, the vegetables had bits of bacon... we looked at each other, doomed. I had covered all the possible animal expressions that I could to say no meat but had forgotten to snort like a pig and of course, they had assumed pig meat would be fine and had generously covered all our dishes with it. Initially we tried to eat the bits not touching the meat but we could smell the bacon and it was impossible... eventually we surrendered, defeated and exhausted, we paid the bill... the waiter looked dismayed at the plates of uneaten food... and we dragged ourselves to the car once more. We would drive to the next town and hope to find a hotel where we would simply collapse.

We drove and drove and stopped at town after town... where we asked at hotel after hotel if there were vacancies but every where we went the answer was no... I thought of Joseph and Mary and how they got turned away from all the inns and taverns... but it wasn´t Christmas... surely we would be luckier? By this time it was past midnight and most of the reception areas of these small family run hotels were closing down... slowly but surely our luck was running out and finally we had to accept that there was no room at any inn for the Gandhis. What would we do? where would we sleep? We had ended up in a small town called Estepona. It was too dark to really tell what it was like and we were too tired to really care. Ketan looked at us and said "We will have to park up somewhere and sleep in the car tonight, hopefully tomorrow we can book into a hotel". Krisha had already fallen a sleep and we stretched her out in the back and propped her head on a plump rucksack and kissed her "nite nite". Ketan drove into an open air car park outside a nightclub where there was lots of lively activity. "It will be noisy for a while but it is safer here", he said. He parked the car and we reclined our seats as far as they would go and closed our eyes. Ketan dropped off quickly and Krish was fast asleep oblivious to our whereabouts but for a while, I could not sleep at all. I watched people going in and out of the night club like bees buzzing around a nectar filled plant: I was anxious that someone might harm us or what if Krish was abducted while we were fast asleep... but gradually, somnia pushed my eyelids down like a heavy weight pressing down a thin sheet of paper and I drifted off into another world.

As the day broke, we stirred and awoke to another day of glorious sunshine. We decided to drive down into the town to find a coffee shop to have some breakfast. It was early and everything was still shut so finally we ended up at a petrol station where I could smell the rich warm aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked bread. We got three huge hot croissants and comforting coffee and juice for Krish and we drove down towards the shore. Estepona was right on the coast and the beaches looked like silver dust and the sea looked calm and collected...despite the rough night, we were happy and ready to tuck into our meat free breakfast. I had never experienced such tranquility and this was probably one of the best breakfasts we had ever had... the three of us, looking out to sea, eating hot croissants and supping real coffee made with real beans. Just as things could not have got any better, we heard the pitter patter of feet, and saw a very fit, athletic man running on the beach along side the sea... We all watched him in awe and thought how disciplined he looked... suddenly without any warning, he ripped off his Lycra shorts and with absolutely nothing on he sprinted into the sea... "Oh, Oh!!!" I shrilled "Cover Krish's eyes up... she will be scarred for life"... We did not know whether to laugh or cry but as fast as he could, Ketan started the engine and drove away. I looked back at the man bobbing up and down in the water... and thought... "brave man... that water must be freezing...he obviously has the balls!" I smiled and thought how I would never forget our Breakfast in Estepona.

The Icing on Our Cake

The last few weeks have gone by so fast and I have wanted to cherish every moment of our time with Krish before she intrepidly ventures forth in that big wide world... I am so excited for her but at the same time gutted that she is leaving us, moving forward but without us... until now we have shared so much with her and virtually everything we have done, we have experienced it together but now it will be others you share her dreams and we will undoubtedly become spectators, with possibly the rare cameo appearances at special events. I wish I could have a special Life I-Player which enables me to replay all those fantastic moments of her childhood: the annual birthday parties with clowns and character cakes. Every year, the birthday party would be a major project to organise... my sister Alka would be enrolled as the party planner and we would decide what this year's feature would be: one year we had the party in the local village hall with a mad magician and lots of smelly egg mayo sandwiches; another year it was a bouncy castle in our back garden, with a chocolate caterpillar cake, which went down a treat. As she grew older the parties disappeared only to be replaced by insomniac sleepovers when the entire house would be swamped by friends and if we stayed we would be banished to our bedroom for 24 hours with no access to any other part of our home... so of course we would disappear to a local restaurant until we knew it was safe to return. In more recent years, she would go out with her best friends for a meal followed by cocktails in their favourite Moroccan style bar with golden globes, and deep, rich red resting places with comfy cushions eastern embroidered. Symbolically, like a pivotal turning point, this year, her 18th birthday brought friends and family together to celebrate a key milestone ... excited that she had grown up into a beautiful human being and proud of her achievements to date and already anticipating those yet to come...simultaneously there was a sadness as we said goodbye to our little girl and our cosy family set up. Next year when she is in Beijing, it will be the first time when she celebrates her birthday without us... I wonder curiously what this will be like for her and for us... I for one will raise a glass of champers at 12.30pm on 14th March 2011 and say thank you Krish for being the icing on our cake.

Krisha Kay Ketan Gandhi - The First 18 years

I have decided to take a diversion from my normal blog and write a little something about someone really special. She entered our lives on the 14th March 1992 at 12.30pm whilst I was lying prostrate on my back, screaming at Ketan, one of my specialisms, and grabbing his hand so tight he was crying, a rare moment when I just wish I had had the camera on me! She arrived to the sound of music on Radio One and the first thing the midwife said was "My God I have never seen a baby with so much hair!". No matter how much pain had been endured by me, with all those contractions, and by Ketan, who was probably down to 8 fingers, this was the happiest moment of our lives... we had created something so beautiful together. The nurse smiled and handed Ketan our first and only child, a beautiful baby girl with a mop of ebony black hair, congratulating us. We had no words but words were insufficient and unnecessary at this moment... we simply cried tears of happiness and smiled at this bundle of perfection. Then the nurse apologetically took the baby away and placed her in a cot on the other side of the room. Whisking Ketan away for a few minutes, she said to me "If baby cries, don´t worry, don´t get up, just leave her alone... you are fragile!" As they left the room, I lay back... all the pain had gone... I could not feel anything and I simply thought of our creation, our work of art... I already missed her and wanted her in my arms. Suddenly, she started to cry, no not cry... wail like an abandoned orphan... I could not ignore it... that maternal instinct, that every woman must have programmed within her, kicked in and I leapt out of bed and ran to pick her up... not noticing the blood gushing down my legs... "Oh my god!" I thought "The midwife is going to kill me!". I didn´t care, as long as I knew that my baby was alright.

Since that day, everything changed and for Ketan and I, this special delivery became the centre of our universe. Where the last eighteen years have disappeared, only god alone knows and if we could do it all over again, we absolutely would.

We named her Krisha Kay Ketan Gandhi. Like many Hindus we were given a number of letters from the Gujerati alphabet of which we chose the letter which sounds like K in the English alphabet. Krisha was an idea that her dad came up with. There was a radio presenter on the local Red Rose radio station called Krisha and also Ketan felt that it had K from his name and Sha from mine so and ideal combination. Later we found out that it was a Polish name meaning little boat...now I look back and think how apt for someone whose dream it is to travel the world; Kay was after my very good friend at the time...and I liked it because it was short and sweet; and like most Indians, we decided to also give her her fathers name so her initials were an unforgettable KKK Gandhi.

Krisha is the first grandchild on my side of the family and for my late dad, she was his pride and joy. He was so besotted by having a granddaughter and like all excellent granddads he spoilt her rotten. He bought her bunches of green grapes which she loved and any other fruit or food she enjoyed. I wish he was here to see her all grown up. Krisha has been blessed with a great extended family...also cherished by her granddad in Preston too. It won´t be the same not having the daily phone calls from Meera and Ravi... wanting homework help, chat girls gossip (that´s with Meera of course!) or talk footy!

Krish is undoubtedly a daddy´s girl and I don´t mind at all because it is a joy to see the fantastic relationship she has with her dad... They are so alike in many ways and they connect like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Sometimes when they talk about footy, it is annoying as I am a dunce when it comes to this overstated game but deep down inside I am quite impressed at their knowledge of players and the all the latest gossip about which team has bought or sold which player for the so many trillions of pounds. I love it when they both kick the ball around outside the house and I hear their shouting and laughing. Krish's love for footy, especially Liverpool, and great taste in players, has now got me hooked too... I loved the Real Madrid match we took her to some years back just so she could watch Mr Beckham... and it was worth it! It was crazy watching the World Cup this year... we screamed at the TV as Spain got closer and closer to becoming the champions of the world and when they did we ran through the streets of Alicante with the Spanish flag and she got me to drive around the city, beeping my horn until it and I were both exhausted... it was an unforgettable night.

The last nearly six years in Spain have been amazing. They have been quality years where the two of us have become closer. Now I almost feel like she is my fifth sister as we chat about music and she helps me download songs legally of course onto my IPOD. She is fantastically technical and if she can´t do it, she knows a very clever Russian that can... Max!!! I will so miss all of Krish´s friends... I have loved having them over... the house feels alive when Krish has had her sleep overs... OK the Kitchen is raided and her room looks like a war zone but it is a sign of life and I can´t imagine the house without these regular friendly invasions. I´ll miss cooking curries for her friend Jordan (alias my adopted son) and I´ll miss taking her and Emma to local shopping centres... ohhh and even though it didn´t happen very often, we'll miss waiting up for her at dawn when she rolls in from a Spanish night out!!!

I won´t forget our recent trip to London to see Beyonce in concert and I so hope we still get to see Alicia Keys together one day. I have loved our holidays to Spain, Turkey, Africa, America, Canada and of course India to name a few... Looking forward to visit her in the far east next year.

Krish has made us so proud over the last 18 years...and pride isn't simply based on academic achievements but more than anything about being the kind and caring human being that she is. I missed out on her early childhood development because of my own career ambitions but the last 6 years have enabled me to be there... at parents evenings, at awards nights and at other major events. I remember one parents evening her teacher said "What I love about Krish is that she is so compassionate": I was so proud of her because this is a beautiful quality to have and not always used to describe a teenager. It has been a joy to see Krish grow up into a caring and thoughtful adult who constantly thinks of others, especially those less fortunate than her. Krish's close friends will know that she loves baking and often has baked goodies for charity bake sales, helping to raise much needed funds for local projects. Over the last few years, she has become passionate about fund-raising and being instrumental in her school´s fund-raising committee. Every year I go to awards night and I am one of many proud mums as I watch Krish receive an award but this year I am sure I can safely say that I was the proudest mum in the audience as Krish stood smartly on the podium as Head Girl and beautifully delivered an opening speech with Head Boy, Sam. I was even prouder as she received three awards including the COBIS award for Excellence... I was like a Cheshire cat, smiling all night and wanting to jump for joy. I only wished her dad had been there to share the moment with us.

Well here we are: 11th August 2010 and in less than a week's time, our baby will be jetting off to the start of a new and independent life in Beijing. It's not sunk in yet and probably won't for some time but inside my stomach, I feel like I have thousands of butterflies all fluttering about madly as if they are high on ginseng. I have tried not to think too much about the actual departure as I start to well up but I know it's going to be an emotional time... I know that 17th August 2010 will be a turning point in all our lives as we kiss our baby goodbye and watch her enter the next crucial stage of her life... adulthood. I know she will grow and develop and become more independent but I hope she always stays the compassionate and loving human being that she is... and keeps her mum, dad and her four moggies close to her heart.

Good Luck Krish! Rock China!! but stay safe and remember keep smiling and the world will smile with you!

Falling in Love Again!

You know that funny feeling you have inside you when you fall in love. It's a magical moment when your heart races like a galloping horse and your stomach somersaults like an Olympic gymnast... you only think this happens to you once or at the most twice in your life... on this maiden holiday, I had fallen head over heels no less than four times and each time with a different town or city... if these were all men then I would unashamedly be having several affairs and devouring every moment. Could it therefore be possible that at our next port of call, I could feel the same fuzzy feeling again?

As we entered Cádiz, it felt like we had come from the top of the world to the end of the world. My first impression: Cádiz is Like a pure white mermaid basking in the shimmering sun, wallowing in the warm waters of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Ocean, Cádiz is simply enrapturing. It was only recently, I found out that Lord Byron had christened it as "Sirena del Oceano" referring to a beautiful mermaid, a curvaceous creature looking out to sea. There is an Atlantis feel about Cadiz except that it proudly and victoriously stands above the water. Like a Beefeater majestically guarding the queen of England, Cádiz Cathedral is so strategically situated at the head of the city and at the edge of the Atlantic, it is an omnipotent edifice: a cathedral, a lighthouse, a fortress and a castle all rolled into one, protecting the city, its people and their prized possessions. With its silvery white walls, its fusion of baroque-rococo-neoclassical styles and its gleaming golden domes, this iconic landmark is stamped in my memory forever.

As we walked through the sea of white houses, we found another popular plaza full of small, quaint bars with their al-fresco seating on the square. As we sat and drank our caña (beer) and ate our oily olives, a wedding party rejoiced as newly weds floated out of the local church, almost as if they were literally on cloud nine! I watched the bride in her immaculately white meringue-style dress, beaming with joy at her husband, excited about the future that lay ahead... and I wished I could have my wedding day again (with Ketan of course), here in Cádiz. I closed my eyes and envisaged myself in an elegantly, flowing, fitted snow white gown, gliding out of Cádiz cathedral, hand in hand with Ketan, suited and booted. We were laughing and crying with joy at the same time; we danced all night on the silvery sand, later swam in the turquoise ocean and spent our first night together under the starry skies of Cádiz's Costa de la Luz. I smiled as I thought how happy I was...I could feel my heart racing and my stomaching doing back flips and I knew I was in love again.

As we drove away from Cadiz, I knew it was not adios but hasta luego.

On Top of the World!

Leaving Granada was difficult as it had captured our hearts and we could not imagine anywhere else so bewitching. From Granada we drove to Sevilla which, in comparison, felt enormous. There was a magnificence about this city with its wide streets, its "all sort" architecture, ranging from Visigothic, Roman, Moorish to modern day. At that time, I had no idea that several years later, I would actually choose Sevilla as a research topic for my A Level Spanish. For now, I simply indulged in its splendour. I had never seen normal city streets lined with orange trees, so short that I could have picked the oranges. Lord Byron had said about this Andalusian capital, "Seville is a pleasant city, famous for its oranges and women." I could see what he meant. Every calle, avenida and plaza had its fair share of oranges and the gentle aroma of this citrus fruit penetrated every walk of life. As for the women, well I certainly kept my eye on Ketan... just his type... dark skinned, with beautiful brown eyes and often jet black, flowing hair... he was in heaven... surrounded by these Hispanic beauties! Sevilla was an overflowing fountain of history with stunning monuments: the 16th century Cathedral of Santa Maria built on the former Mosque, the third largest in the world; the Giralda (originally a Minaret and now a bell tower); La Torre del Oro (the Golden Tower) and Plaza de España ... everywhere you looked, you could see the fusion of bygone cultures coming together with an amazing synchronicity. However, If I am honest, I didn't appreciate the sophistication of Sevilla as immediately as I had been impressed by the greatness of Granada. I misunderstood Sevilla in almost the same way tha Mr Darcy misunderstood Miss Elizabeth Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, at their first meeting. It took me three visits and a research study nine years later to truly recognise its uniqueness and abundance of offerings to visitors and dwellers alike.

From Sevilla we made our way to Ronda without a clue about the next natural Hispanic haven that we were about to enter. We had never holidayed like this before: everything was unplanned and we had no idea where we were going or staying until we got to the next destination and this surprise element made the trip even more exciting. If there was one city which totally blew me away... it was Ronda. It has to be one of Spain's most exquisite creations, perched like a precious peacock on a precipice. Surrounded by mountains and 750 metres above sea level, the city straddles the river Guadalevin which cuts it in half and creates a 100 metre canyon, El Tajo, on which the city balances like a trapeze artist on a tight rope. Inside the city walls, you feel as if you are being carried away into the archives of history, with its three bridges Old, New and Roman and there is nothing new about the New Bridge as it was built back in the 18th Century! Ronda boasts history with the oldest bull ring where the Spanish tradition of taunting the Toro all began and with its Arab baths which date as far back as the 13th century. As we ambled through the gardens of the Palace of the Moorish King, with its aromatic herbs and trailing jasmine, we forgot we were in the 21st century. It was here, in this enchanting city, we sampled our first vegetarian paella... the Spanish Biryani without the spice!

We left Ronda, as if we were leaving the moon after a maiden visit... we had found something so incredible which we wanted to further explore but Cadiz was calling... it was time to move on to our next destination; but one day we would return to this monumental mountain metropolis and further explore its rich history and culture. For now, as the Spanish would say: Hasta La Proxima!

Another Day In Paradise

Mark Eveleigh a photo journalist described Granada as "an African paradise set under the Sierras like a rose preserved in snow’ and maybe it was the African in me that made me warm to this Moorish City within minutes of being there . Since this, our first trip, we have been back a number of times but never felt as mesmerised as we were on this virgin visit. As with Pitres we had not booked a hotel in advance, so our first challenge was to find somewhere cosy and economical to stay. Again with lady luck on our side, we found a quaint little pension in a side street behind the famous La Alhambra palace. The pension was tucked away and almost hidden like a precious jewel amongst restaurants and coffee shops. Our room was traditionally but pleasantly furnished and very spacious and the best feature was a tiny terrace garden which we had all to ourselves and we could access from our bedroom. It was full of brightly painted ceramic pots which had scarlet red geraniums, orange hibiscus and other pretty potted plants . In the evening a most seductive aroma would waft into the bedroom bewitching, hypnotic and alluringly aphrodisiacal... it was the essence of Jasmine. I could see now why this was one of Spain´s most romantic cities. If you need to revive your love life, I strongly recommend a trip to Granada or failing that place a potted Jasmine plant strategically next to your bedside... it will work wonders!

Our pensión was a stone's throw away from La Alhambra, the 13th century muslim medina majestically overlooking the city and its people. A visit to Granada is simply incomplete without a visit to this iconic, islamic palace: like a visit to Agra without seeing the Taj Mahal! However little did we know, on our first visit that getting into it would more difficult than penetrating the Bank of España! We casually wandered up through the palatial gardens, thinking of the wonders that we were about to witness only to find ourselves joining a long and winding queue. Obediently we joined this and waited and waited and waited and after a couple of hours, having moved a few inches, a guard came out and told us that no more people could enter the palace today and we would have to return tomorrow. Disappointed and drained in the heat of the August sun, we returned to the city. Totally by default, whilst standing in yet another queue in the bank, we found out that we could buy tickets for the Alhambra from here hence reducing our wait in the queue so we bought the tickets and the next morning, we were almost fast tracked into the Palace! All the waiting and frustration had paid off: the Andalusian architecture, the Islamic scriptures on the walls: solamente Alá vence - only Allah wins, the flowing fountains and carefully cultivated gardens were enchanting. We felt like we were being transported back to the days of Mohammed Ben Nazar, the Muslim conqueror. La Alhambra was magical and with its wondrous vistas of the Sierra Nevada, I felt I was in paradise.

After our regal experience, we drifted into the Arabic quarter with row upon row of Moorish malls selling ethnic and oriental jewelry, eastern influenced lanterns and delicately designed rugs minus the jamon! Totally enveloped with a spiritual fragrance of incense sticks and decorated with the brightly coloured Asian artifacts, and I could have aimlessly meandered forever. Was there no end to what this city had to offer?

No!

Everyone knows Spain for its Flamenco and before leaving Granada we had the amazing opportunity to watch authentic flamenco by real gypsy (Gitana) queens in the old caves of the Sierra Nevada. The dark moreno skin, the large almond shaped eyes, the buxom women in their brightly bosom accentuated frilly frocks... bewitched us and not only was Ketan drooling but so was I. We never wanted this night to end and when it did, we dreamed of paradise, we dreamed of Granada.