DEMETER DROP-OUT AND ATHENIAN SCAMS

So my last day in Athens comes to an end. Its been fun. A lot of fun. I have loved being here and tramping around the major sites of Ancient Greece...

I woke up a little later today knowing that Eleusis is not as far away as Delphi. Delphi is 3 hours drive by bus, Eleusis is only half an hour. No sweat! It should be easy to get there, I thought, and had a nice lie-in.

I set off about one o'clock for the square where the bus is supposed to go from, hoping to pop into a few Greek churches on the way. Said Greek churches failed to appear, having apparently morphed into some grim looking tenements along fairly grimy streets. My early optimism faded a little as I appeared to be wandering back into the Hellenic version of THE WIRE and wasn't helped much by getting to the square I was supposed to find the bus at. Everything was in Greek without English subtitles (which are everywhere else) and I thought to myself 'Am I destined not to get to Eleusis after all?'. For a moment the prospect appeared attractive as I was bushed, but then hey presto! I stumbled onto the bus tucked around a corner. There it was. No problemo!

I shared a half hour's bus ride with some slightly scary looking Greeks. I say that with a little bafflement as I seemed to get across India with scarier looking Indians all around without getting into a fret. Once again perhaps Europe had lulled me into a false sense of security. I needn't have worried. The journey passed without incident. All I was seeing was Greece in the raw rather than the affluent joie de vivre of moneyed Athens.

The journey was very nondescript except for a sudden view of the legendary port of Pireaus which lay spread before us for a stretch, magical under the sun. Once again I thought about how the Greeks couldn't help being a great nation under such circumstances. There is something about the seascape of Pireaus which lifts the spirits, inspires one and makes one WANT to leap on a ship and explore. Once again I found myself gazing in awe, just drinking the mythical wonder in.

The arrival at Eleusis was painless. Elfsina as it is now called is, like Agra, not a place of translucent beauty. Its not as shitty as Agra by any means, but it is utterly nondescript. Like Watford or Turnpike Lane, its one of those places which you pass through to go somewhere else. Its flanked on all sides by salubrious oil refineries which don't make for much of a mystical atmosphere. Ah well. Never mind. The site of Eleusis is what is important.

I wandered around a bit trying to find it and have to say that 'the Archeological Site of Eleusis' is one the worst signposted in the world. Apart from a horrendously ugly modern statue of Aeschylus, the father of Greek Drama who was born in Eleusis but was never an initiate, nothing indicated where anything was. Being careful not to vomit at the full horror of the statue I soldiered on and eventually found what I was looking for.

A word of background... The Eleusinian Mysteries which celebrated the love between Demeter and her daughter Persephone, were the most important and secret Rites of Ancient Greece. Initiates were said to have a vision of their own immortality and to leave understanding that this transient life was not their full existence, thus able to face death and the turbulence of life with fearlessness and equanimity. The Mysteries were kept utterly secret, but it is said that the final vision, which fell on my birthday, may have involved a vision of Persephone in the Sacred Fire and the cutting of a single ear of corn in absolute silence by the High Priest or Princess. It is where we get the word 'Mystic' from, 'Mysterai' being the name of the Initiates who underwent the Rites each year. Imagery of corn and seed found in the Gospels is said to echo its ceremonies and symbolism. So important were the Rites to the Greeks, who saw their performance each year as being the foundation upon which the harmony of the whole Kosmos depended, that during the siege of Athens at the hands of the Persians the people of the city were said to have witnessed the Gods themselves carrying them out along with a procession of Spirits lest the Divine Order was rocked for ever. If anyone wants to know more, you can read all about it on my other Blog, the Temple of Pegasus at:

http://templeofpegasus.blogspot.com/search/label/Demeter

So what was it like to wander inside the ruins? I HAVE NO IDEA! I managed to turn up just at the moment when the grounds of the Temple were closing! AAAAAAARGH! Clearly Demeter didn't want me to have a shufti around the ancient sanctuary or see the sacred well where she is said to have wept while looking for her daughter. So in terms of a Deep Mystical Insight into Eleusis I can't help you with anything. I spent a fruitless and frustrating hour circling the ruins looking through the iron railings all around it, trying to get a sense of what it was. It wasn't a complete washout as the site is still resonant even from such a distance, but I would have loved to really roam about. Ah well. It was not to be.

I headed back to Athens early after treating myself to an Uber-sinful chocolate and vanilla ice cream which made me feel sick. Ah well, I thought. Its an ill wind. If I couldn't spend the day in Eleusis, why not see some more of Athens? And so I did, wandering around the Bohemian streets of Plaka on the way to some of the Greek ruins I had seen from the lofty heights of the Acropolis two days before. On the way I got scammed, but managed to see wat was happening before it was too late. I felt doubly stupid as I had read about the scam in Thessaloniki, but was clearly so deeply in that oblivious dream world of the happy tourist that I didn't see it coming. Here is what happened...

I was looking for a bookshop in Plaka called Compendium to see if I could bag a final book to read for my last leg of travelling. After an exhausting trek through picturesque winding streets I found the place only to discover it was closed. An amiable looking Greek gent got into conversation with me, explaining that it was Sunday so everything was closed (true). He asked me where I was from and we got chatting. English, eh? From MANCHESTER! What a great team! Oh you've been in Greece before? Crete? I have friends in Crete! Thessaloniki? My wife is from Thessaloniki etc etc.

A little weary my guard was down and I thought he was just being nice. He said 'Come and have a coffee with me in my bar' and we wandered across the road to what I thought was his place. 'This is nice,' I thought, 'Greek hospitality, just as the Guide says.' I went in. It was a nice looking bar with a barmaid and a glamourous looking woman sitting chatting on a mobile phone. The guy said this was his daughter. Tired, I still found myself thinking, 'Your daughter? This is your daughter? Sure! And I'm the Queen of Sheba.' but didn't go into High Alert nonetheless. What did I want to drink? A coffee? We don't do coffee, have an Ouzo!

Ok, an Ouzo it was and it appeared. 'Have what you like,' he said, then gesturing to his 'daughter' he said, 'You can speak to her.' and then wandered off. I began to realise I was being scammed. I had read how this happened to Tourists, how the 'daughter' or 'daughters' asked for a drink and then suddenly you had racked up a huge bill. My brow darkened a little as the woman sat next to me and asked me what my name was and where I was from. She then said 'So would you like to buy us (her and the barmaid) a drink?'

'No,' I said. 'I don't have enough money.' and reddened with anger and disappointment that I had fallen for this. I turned to the barmaid and said, 'How much for the Ouzo?'. Clearly the guy wasn't paying. 'Ten Euros' she said. I felt honoured. I must be drinking the Best Ouzo In Athens if it was costing ten Euros. Glowering I handed over the money and staved off attempts to engage me in conversation. Quite quickly the 'daughter' realised she was onto a losing wicket and left saying politely 'You finish your Ouzo'. The barmaid carried on for a while, asking me where I was staying.

'Near Victoria Square,' I said.

'Victoria Square?' she said and rolled her eyes, 'That is full of black people!'

Was she going to try and persuade me to get a new hotel too?

'So is England.' I replied after a moment, indicating I wasn't going to engage in a racist conversation.

'That is why you like it so much,' she said rather lamely.

THe conversation farted on for a little longer and then frittered out as it became clear I knew what was going on. I finished the Ouzo quickly and left (it was 10 Euros!), feeling annoyed with myself but also relieved I had not fallen for anything else. What a shame! Ah well!

I left it all behind and headed for my final site, the Olympian Temple to Zeus which I had seen from yteh Acropolis. It quickly erased the bad taste being scammed had left in my mouth. Like the other sites, it is amazing. What seemed tiny from the Acropolis was suddenly massive and had a majesty of its own. It is largely a ruin with only a handful of pillars left but what are left are titanic and give the impression of an extraordinarily powerful building in its original form. I found myself thinking that we were lucky it was ruined because if it was intact as it were intended its energy would be overwhelming. Just as Delphi evoked the grace and power of Apollo and the Parthenon the almighty wisdom of Athena, this Temple to Zeus had about it an incredibly powerful sense of masculine energy, almost oppressive, authoritarian. It said 'Zeus is in charge. Remember that.' with every inch. As I say, thank God its a ruin, amazing though it is!

The experience of seeing all these Greek sites has the effect of knocking your consciousness out of your head and making you see things anew. Each one has its own specific aura, just as one would expect from the Greek pantheon. Each one has a powerful emotional impact unique unto itself. I left once again wondering at the sheer power of this culture, its all-embracing vision which recognised that everything had its place, its role to play, and asked myself once again why it had declined? The answer can only be that civilisations always do. They have their period of glory and then they stop growing and begin to fade, making way for new civilisations with new vigour and glory. Nothing lasts forever, at least not in its fullest form, but everything leaves its imprint on the ongoing history of the human race. The Greeks, who still form the basis of our consciousness now - indeed we still speak Ancient Greek to a large extent today - still have something to offer us though, if only to remind us that any ideas we glory in today they had before. We are not so big... They were there first... And they were great...

So my day came to an end. Another day of wonder and adventure. I headed home after a brief dinner in Plaka and now here I am in my hotel. The Greek leg of the Flight of Pegasus is coming to an end. And now I think of it, its not surprising it has been amazing given that Greece is the home of Pegasus. Its where he is from. Its no wonder these few days have been so special.

Tomorrow I fly to Paris where I will hook up with my bro and my friend Nathan for the last bit of the adventure. Then on Thursday, Pegasus returns to the UK. I know I have been hard on the UK, but this is only because I know that when I return I will have to tackle those big, difficult decisions, all of which are summed up in the ancient Roman words 'Quo vadis?'. What next? How will I earn a living? I want to keep directing but how will I do it and make a living? As my amigo Eamonn tells me, however, I am returning with many treasures in my heart. I guess all I have to do is take each day as it comes, stay tuned to what is special to me and see what emerges...

And on this note, good night to all, and God bless!

FOUR A'S AND A D

Three A's - Athens, the Archeological Museum, the Acropolis and the Agora - and one D - Delphi...

Its been a wonderful couple of days...

First off, I love Athens. I haven't enjoyed a European city so much in ages. I think Zaragoza was the last time. The buzz is fantastic, the people terrific and even though the area my hotel is in seems to be standing in for an episode of THE WIRE (as I had dinner on my first day a bunch of police were busting some Drug Dealers round the corner) I really, really love it...

Yesterday I kicked things off with a trip to the Archeological Museum. I had been warned by my Mum that you couldn't do the Acropolis during the day due to the heat, one had to go in the morning or late afternoon (as in India) so I decided the Museum was the best place to spend the midday hours. How right I was!

All those rumours about Athens being a disgustingly noisy and polluted city continued to disappear as I walked down 3rd September Rd to the Museum. Quite frankly, if Athens is noisy and polluted, then people out to take a gander at your average Indian town. Mumbai, perhaps, or Madurai? THAT is noisy and polluted! Athens is nothing like that.

The Museum was amazing. I found myself wandering from room to room in an increasing haze of wonder and glory. I was seeing things I have seen in books for years suddenly appearing before me - the Golden Mask of Agamemnon (not Agy at all, but someone else), the incredible giant statue of Zeus or Poseidon throwing an invisible spear/trident/thunderbolt and, most beautifully, the wonderful image from Eleusis of the Prince standing between Demeter and Persephone at the climax of the Mysteries. I love this piece of work, its utter beauty, its profound spirituality and its suggestion of the immortality of everyone, and was amazed to find it there before me in all its glory. I have said that I have a special relationship with these Eleusinian Mysteries. It did something very amazing to my heart to stand there before it, hypnotised by the mystical nature of the sculptor's work...

Wonders were everywhere. In the Mycenean room it was brought home to me how much that dynasty revered gold, almost as much as the Aztecs, and how their imagery of roses and flowers and whorls seemed to presage things like Celtic Spirals and even the Rosicrucian images of Western Europe. And that is not forgetting the similar shapes and patterns I had seen in India. It seems more and more that we really are all One.

Then there were the funerary carvings with people serenely shaking hands and offering birds to their deceased loved ones... and the magnificent jars and vases covered with images of Athene...

It was a great few hours and left me gasping with love and admiration for the Greeks. As I say, I have always loved ancient Greek culture, much more than Roman, and to have that adoration confirmed here, with all the images I had only seen in books suddenly standing before me was quite something. There is an elegance and poetry to the Greeks which I love to move around in, as well as a deep and primal wisdom and spirituality...

This was only strengthened by visiting the Acropolis. Many people told me that the Acropolis was a huge disappointment. Well not for me. For me it was like coming home. I must have had a past life here or something because the sense of completeness I had when I walked through the main gates was total. It was an utterly satisfying experience.

The extraordinary thing about the Acropolis is just how brilliantly it is placed. If the Indian temples I saw were marvels of architecture, this was a marvel of every kind of planning decision. The centre of Athens, it is built upon the highest hill and affords incredible views of the whole of the city, the other hills around it, the mountains beyond those and the sea which I will never forget. Standing on this summit watching the sun glitter on the waves in the distance was magical, as were the Parthenon, Erecthion and even the little area where the Greek flag stands flapping in the wind surrounded by a little wall.

So here I was on the Acropolis, this legendary place which I have known about and read about since I was a teenager. It had existed in my imagination for twenty years and here I was, suddenly standing there. What is it about the Greeks that makes them so extraordinary? Here what struck me was the perfection of their vision. The whole lay out of the Acropolis was just brilliant, a perfect synthesis of religious and political needs, carried out with utter elan. I can't really describe it. You have to go.

Borrowing an old trick I learnt in India I had gone at the right moment to coincide with sunset, just to enjoy the full glory of that Shamanic half-light. And I wasn't disappointed. I watched as the sun bathed the buildings in different colours, just as they had in India and, wonder of wonders, how its dying light made the marble in the floor look like water. Not far from the Acropolis I could see the Temple to Zeus down below among the buildings. It looked splendid, but the elevation of Athene, my favourite of the Olympians, right at the CENTRE of the city was made all the more extraordary by its relegation in size and location outside and below the Acropolis. Zeus is, after all, the Head Honcho. All Greek cities had a patron God, Athene was Athens', Ares was Sparta's. Nevertheless, it felt like a major statement for a city to chose a female deity like this as the chief expression of their spirituality.

Leaving the Acropolis as the sun set over the main gates (like the Indian temples, the Athenians had carefully constructed their main building to align with the sun) I wandered down to an enormous rock formation at the foot of the hill. To my astonishment I realised it was the Areopagus, the debating centre where Paul had delivered his barnstorming speech to the Greeks in Acts. I fancy quoting it as its a humdinger and should be quoted in every massive pompous Church in the world:

"God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands; neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed anything, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things; and hath made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, and hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation; that they should seek the Lord, if haply they might feel after him, though he be not far from every one of us: for in him we live, and move and have our being. For we are also his offspring." - Acts 17: 24-28

But of a blaster, eh? Not what you would expect! It felt fairly buzzy to be standing in this place where two great epochs of European culture had their genesis - Hellenism and then Christianity... What a place!

Then, from the Areopagus I wandered down into the Agora, my head awash with ideas and thoughts. Carried away by the power of ancient Greece, I was wondering why they had moved onto Christianity, and found myself outside the Church of the Holy Apostles. I stepped inside and found myself saying an involuntary 'Wow!'. Unlike all the other churches I had seen which were ablaze with gold and colour, this Church had such purity and simplicity it took the breathe away. I always prefer the simpler churches and chapels, one's which speak of a genuinely humble and humane spirit rather than trumpeting their imperial glory. This church, which goes back a thousands years or so, moved me almost to kneel by its quietness and lack of pretension.

Leaving that, I made my way to the Temple of Haphaestos which was standing on a hill surrounded by lush green trees. As I approached, the sun was setting behind it. Everywhere you could hear birds singing, crickets chirping. The atmosphere settled into something so calm and magical that suddenly I lost all awareness of the modern city around the Agora and was transported back to the ancient world. As I walked up the Temple, which is better preserved than any other one I had seen, it felt like I was there, back then, making a votive trip. I cannot describe how peaceful, relaxed and benign the whole thing felt. Magical.

Thoroughly happy, but also tired, I let myself be lead out of the Agora (which was closing) and stopped in a nearby Taverna for a meal of stuffed vine leaves and a beer (veggie but, yes, some booze). Wholly content, I walked back through Athens to my hotel, watching the city come to life as I went for its Friday night - beautiful, dark-haired Greek women, wide boy-like men... Kids everywhere.... Lights and sounds....

I got as early a night as I could as I had read somewhere that it took a long time to do Delphi, so I planned to wake up at 6am to get the 7.30am bus. That plan died a death as I was unable to sleep for some reason so took the next train, the 10.30am. I was in a slightly grumpy mood but the journey lifted me. The landscape was breathtaking and when we got to Delphi, three hopurs later, I was knocked out by the majestic wonder of the location - right beneath Mt Parnassos, surrounded by sweeping mountains, overlooking the sea, just stunning. I thought to myself 'No wonder the Greeks were so amazing. THey couldn't help it. The landscape is so powerful they woke up to mind-expanding wonder every day!' Its why, for instance, Birmingham isn't a place of immense visionary spirituality and thought...

The Greeks really did know how to chose a location. If the Acropolis was breathtakingly well chosen, Delphi is even more so. The energy of the mountains and the valley onto which it opens out reminded me of the majesty and spiritual vibe of the Pyrenees I had encountered a few years before when I was trekking there in search of the Cathars. THere must be something extraordinary about mountains - a vibration, electromagnetic minerals in the rock or something - which makes them so associated with Gods and mysticism. There are Parnassos, Olympos, Meteora and Athos in Greece, Mount Meru in India, the Pyrenees in France and Spain, Ayers Rock in Australia, Montserrat in Catalonia and so on and so on... Whoever sensed that this location was where Apollo's presence would be at its most powerful, that this was the Omphalos of the world, really knew what they were doing.

Delphi is extraordinary. Like the Acropolis, it is a place I have been reading about and thinking about since I was a kid. Like the Acropolis, I kept having to stop myself as I walked around, look for a second and say 'My God I am here!'. Once again, the intuitive genius of the Greek sensibility was everywhere. You could sense the power of the place in the air and could well understand why they felt that Apollo walked there. I remembered the Temples in India with their Brahmin Priests and tried to imagine how Delphi must have worked in its heyday. Such awe... such wonder... I was disappointed that it wasn't possible to see the circular pit over which the Pythoness Priestess had her channelling experience with the God (does anyone know where that is, if its open to the public, or even if its just a myth?) but the experience was nevertheless unforgettable...

Even more wonderful and an added bonus, was the Sanctuary to Athene a few minutes trek from the Oracle down the hill. A circular, partyly reconstructed little thing surrounded by green, it is quite special. Athene, as I say, has a special place in my heart and I felt another great sense of peace and coming home visiting it. I sat behind it, able to see it in alignment with the Temple of Apollo and just marvelled at the ease with which the Greeks seemed to sense the relationship of these buildings with the landscape around them. Once again there was that magical sense of peace and oneness with the sky and the grass and the trees. It felt perfectly natural to be there and once again I was transported back to that extraordinary civilisation, feeling I was looking at exactly what they had looked at, that this was as it was then.

Walking back to the bus through the ruined Gymnasium overgrown with luscious trees and bushes, buzzing with bees and insects, birds singing in the ruins of Athene's grove, sky blue overhead, flowers everywhere, it was if the place was smiling. And I found myself realising how the ancient Greeks were in love with the world around them, how it was not the enemy or to be rejected, but to be lived with and loved.

We need some more of what the Greeks had now...

On the bus journey home I thought about two things (well more than that but we'll stick with two for now). Firstly, I remembered the daughter of my cousin complaining that when they go to any foreign city they always go to 'some Church' first and how boring it was. After all I have seen - the Taj Mahal, the Temples at Thanjavur and Madurai, the Lotus Temple of the Bahai in Delhi, the Gurudwaras, the Aghia Sophia, the Blue Mosque and now this, Delphi and the Temple to Athene - I wanted to reply, retrospectively, that 'Yes... That was because in all the world the human race had tended to put their greatest visions of beauty in such buildings.' These places, where different cultures in their different ways have placed their highest feelings and aspirations (if God can be described as such) are among the most magnificent and amazing in the world.

And the second thing was the realisation, or the reinforcement of the sense that every culture, especially at their moments of greatness, had an idea of the Cosmic, or the Life Unseen, however it was expressed, be it the Greek Pantheon, Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, whatever, except for our own. We have no concept of anything other than the material. After six thousand years of civilisation we have concluded that its all meaningless, that we are slaves to material processes only and that is it. And we suppose that this is the height of civilisation, knowledge and achievement. Anyone who feels differently is either stuck with an old set of religious images and ideas or is out there on their own. Why haven't we taken things a step further? Even belief in Humanity has gone. And the fruits of our new found materialism and its many successes? The threat of extinction through Global Warming...

I'm not preaching a return to old-fashioned values or a revival of any religion. Religions die when they cease to be vital. But if I have seen anything over these four months, it has been the incredible inspirational power of spirituality through all the ages. The flip side is of course all the strife and tension. But surely there must come a time when we can express what inside us powerfully without it leading to further conflict and pain?

Well, enough ranting. I imagine an awful lot of people will have been shocked over these months at my interest in these things. I may have fewer friends when I get back (mind you there may well not be 'an awful lot of people' even reading this. Ah well!)... But I have seen so much magic and wonder its hard not to say something as I come to the end of the Flight of Pegasus.

One more day in Greece, when I will go to Eleusis for my final experience of my dream places of Hellas, then Paris for a few days to see some friends and my bro, then home... Back to the Box... We will see what happens.

Love to all! Its been a long one, but there won't be many more, I promise!

ATHENS ON MY MIND

So here I am in Athens, perhaps the most wonderful and influential city in European history. As I tumble through these days going through the process of readjusting back into the Western mode, I am glad I am here at last...

On my first day in Istanbul, exhausted and freaked out and worried by the rain, I cursed my decision to return to the UK via Turkey, Greece and France. Why didn't I just go home and rest? Now I don't regret it. I am glad I am able to go through this in this way.

My second day in Thessaloniki was still a bit corpsey. Somehow I had managed to leave the window open in my tiny room with its even tinier bed so I woke up with a chill and a sore throat. Another slightly less lonely breakfast and a pre-midday nap and I was out and about again. The weather was improving but to my frustration the first place I went to, the Thessalonikian Aghia Sophia, was closed. I wandered off to find some lunch and found myself waylaid by a tall, dyed-blonde waitress who enticed me into her taverna (as it were). I was then kept there for hours by another waitress who kept on giving me beers and puddings 'on the house'. It was a bit mysterious but quite nice and I managed to settle and centre a bit. I'm still getting used to eating meat and drinking alcohol which feels VERY strange (I don't know how I am going to resolve this back in the UK as I felt so good only eating veg and drinking water in India) but I needed the chilling time. After that, I wandered off to find the Cathedral of St Dimitriou further up the hill.

St Dimitriou was a Roman centurion who was martyred for being a Christian at a time when the Roman Emperor had made it a capital offence. He is the Patron Saint of Thessaloniki and his Cathedral here is built upon the site of the catacombs where the early Christians gathered to carry out there sacraments in order to hide from the authorities who would have killed them if they had got caught. I only remembered this after a bit of time wandering around in the Cathedral itself (I had read it in the guidebook) and being accosted by an friendly older Greek lady who wanted to know if I was German as she had been living in Germany for about thirty years. I speak a little Kraut so we chatted away amiably for a little while, all the time me thinking 'Ah! Just like in India!', then she wandered off..

The Cathedral was very nice. Greek Orthodox Christianity does Churches and Cathedrals in a very different way to the West. Ecstatic, colourful, gold-drenched images and icons of Saints and the Bible characters are everywhere. Unlike Western churches which are often just stone, Greek Churches are a blaze of imagery and colour. In fact it used to be like this in the West but for some reason the Art died out. It makes for a wonderfully rich and inspiring spiritual environment, especially if you like Icon Art, which I do. THe two churches I had popped into the day before had been the same, full of vibrant beauty. For the Greeks, God is Light, as the Bible says, so this imagery of Gold and Light is everywhere...

I didn't mention the Aghia Sophia in Istanbul in much detail as I was pretty miserable at the time, but I should at least have pointed out that the biggest difference between Greek sacred architecture and Western Churches etc is that the cruciform shape is much less pronounced. Orthodox Churches are dominated by round shapes - domes, rotunda, spheres - designed to evoke the glory of Christ in the Heavens or the Womb-like Presence of the Divine Sophia. Their influence on the development of the Mosque is absolutely obvious, as one can see in Istanbul where all the Muslim invaders had to do was attach some minarets to convert the Aghia Sophia from its role as a Church. The effect of Greek Architecture in this way is to make the vision of the Church more holistic, more feminine, more natural in feel than the Western one...

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda... I'm going on again... Still stunned by India, none of these buildings were doing it for me hugely. Everything I was seeing seemed small fry compared to what I had seen over there. And I LOVE Greek culture, classical and otherwise. What was happening to me? Oh dear!

It was going down into the catacombs which started me moving again. Descending into these cramped caves, out of which altars, baptismal fonts and even a strange stone construction in which grail-like lamps were lit, was a profoundly moving experience. We are so used to hearing about the terrible excesses and persecutions meted out by the Christian churches that we forget that for three centuries following JC was punishable by death. What was it about this spirituality which so many people now deride which lead people to risk death not just for a short while but for 300 years to follow it? Walking among the simplicity of the stone, it was easy to imagine them gathered here in groups, meeting in secret, hoping not to be found, in order to worship this strange, new heretical sect in which God incarnated as a Man and walked among us. The sense of sadness, of vulnerability, of fear but also of something very felt, was palpable. As I had done in India, I sat in silence in the shadows and drank in the atmosphere. It was like going back in time again.

As I said in India, when you are travelling, one must honour the Gods. Here I did the same.

Restored, I wandered around Thessaloniki again, had a bite to eat and went back to my hotel room. I watched a preposterous Sylvester Stallone film and fell asleep, ready for the journey the next day to Athens.

And here I am. Getting here saw the train passing through the most breathtaking Greek landscapes. I was amazed at how GREEN it all was. I had thought from Crete, Kefalonia etc that all of Greece had that wonderful parched, arid, epic, rocky feel but no, here it was just lush green as far as the eye can see, often covering magnificent mountain ranges. I had been to mainland Greece as a teenager but had clearly forgotten what it was like. I had grown used to the wonder of the islands (Crete is one of my favourite places), but this was something new.

Arriving at Athens, I was all ready for a horrorshow. For decades Athens has been characterised as a noisy, polluted, ugly city. Well it isn't now! I loved the drive through it and am really looking forward to exploring it tomorrow. Thessaloniki hadn't excited me that much. Athens is different.

As with Istanbul, there was a mix-up with my hotel but it was soon fixed. Somehow my guard is down, though, as having become like a Ninja in India with rickshaw wallahs I seem to be completely asleep with Western Taxi drivers etc. I know I was overcharged twice today but didn't anticipate it. Maybe I have slipped into a subconscious trust now I'm back in the West. Bad news! And the prices! A meal here would buy you a railway journey across India and back! I realise that this week or so is going to be the most expensive part of the entire Flight Of Pegasus. It makes you realise what a ridiculous fiction money is. How on earth can the same food be worth something completely different depending upon where you are on the planet?

My hotel here is GRREEAAAAT, although not in the nicest part of Athens. The room is HUGE and... wonder of wonders... it has a BATH! I haven't seen a bath for four months (the one in Hyderabad doesn't count. No-one was going to have a bath in THAT!)... I immediately ran a luxurious tub of bubbly water and jumped in. Ahhhh blisssssss...

So now I am tapping this out to keep everyone abreast of how things are going on before hitting the sack. I'm here for three days, during which time I want to see Delphi and Eleusis, the site of the famous Eleusinian Mysteries, from which we get the word 'Mystic' and which used to culminate every year on my birthday... A chance of a lifetime... Hang the expense... Money will be found...

And my state of mind? Well I am going through the transformations... As keen followers of this Blog will remember, I went through some crises out there in India and, if anything, I have learnt to let them happen now... The pain, the confusion, the sense of loss always gives way to something new. And I am learning now that even though India is behind me in a sense, it is still with me, transforming itself into a state of mind as I go. I have said how constricting I had found the West and how that had caused me to go East. Well now the West need never constrict me again, because I know the world is larger than that. A friend of mine said to me: 'You are India' and she is right. One doesn't have to BE there to be there, if you know what I mean. The massive expansion of Consciousness I experienced there need not vanish. It will carry itself around with me as I move in the UK.

Besides, I know I will go back. Those kids, those people and that country is in my blood now. They are part of my life.And I know that there will always be such options in the future. In the past I used to plunge when things went badly in the UK because I thought that was all there was. Now I know that isn't true. There is much, much more...

So on that more positive note (and I am sure there is further to go with everything, and some more challenges in the UK), I am off to bed, to dream of Greek Gods and ancient civilisations (and other things...) before awakening to what Athens has to offer tomorrow...

To the future!

ISTANBUL (NOT CONSTANTINOPLE) AND THESSALONIKI UPS AND DOWN

Well I have been back in Europe for less than a week and its been a roller coaster! Lots of adjustments.

The final leg of my journey from India to Istanbul (not Constantinople) was a wonderful one. For some reason on the plane I felt full of love and light, as if everything from India was synthesising into something magnificent. I felt I could walk on air. Happily, as the plane was quite high in the sky I didn't give it a try but the experience was magnificent. My mind felt fully illuminated.

As the plane started to land I wasn't prepared for the fact that it was pelting with rain. I seem to have picked the wrong time to come to Turkey and Greece. I was expecting blazing Mediterranean sun and magic. Instead I have hit the tail end of winter. After three months of India I don't have a single item of winter clothing. A few fleeces, yes, but no coat or umbrella or even socks! I had to crack out my smelly sneakers and improvise. Not good. I have grown used to the magnificent light of the sub continent.

I have been to Turkey before, but both times in Anatolia on the south coast, once to Kalkan, once to Side, when I found myself able to travel to Konya, the town in central Turkey where the great Sufi Mystic Rumi lived and practised. Good times. But I have never quite hit it off with Turkey. I don't know why. For some reason I have never been able to connect with the people. Maybe a trip to the great city of Istanbul would help...

Alas, disorientation set in almost immediately. I had been warned about the shock of returning to the West but still wasn't quite prepared for my arrival. If anything, the shock was the LACK of shock. Kemal Attaturk Airport was like any other international airport. The only surprise was that it wasn't full of Indians. Everything felt totally different and I realised how much India had seeped into my blood, completely transforming me. I am not the same guy. The rythmn is completely different in the West. The wealth is everywhere and the vibration is totally different.

A little confusion over hotels meant my initial impression of the place was a little jaundiced. I couldn't understand why what had seemed easy in India suddenly seemed complex in Europe. I have found, now I am in Greece too, that the hotels feel totally different, less homely and friendly (although no shit on the corridors) and the staff less warm. For all my comedy adventures in Indian hotels, there was a warmth and lack of pretension that meant for the few days you were there they could feel like home. For some reason I grew to love their ramshackle character and the sense of mucking in. Maybe I am sentimentalising but there is an anonymity back here I don't like!

After 48 hrs of travel from Madikeri to Istanbul I was shattered and this kind of coloured my experience of Istanbul. Instead of doing what I had done in India which was to leap out of bned and fill my day with activity I was like a zombie for most of my time there. A real shame as I think had I been a bit more alive I might have had a magnificent time. What was lovely was that I met up with a Facebook friend, Turan, who had promised to show me around. We went to the Haghia Sophia together and the Blue Mosque.

They were magnificent and I had always wanted to see the Sophia but in my brain dead mood - and my disorientation from not being inIndia - they didn't impact upon me as powerfully as they might have done. The Blue Mosque was majestic, but my experiences in Agra and Delhi with the Taj Mahal and the Tombs of Akbra and Hayuman it didn't offer me what I had hoped. And, alas, the Sophia had bloody great scaffolding everywhere, so its full effect was lost. So that's three trips to Turkey without quite hitting the bullseye. Bollocks. I know this is a great country. Must try harder next time!

Grappling with my head being in India and my body in Istanbul was very hard, as was the need to sleep when really I wanted to be up and about and doing things. Its very early days but coming back has felt like a very schizo experience. In India my mind expanded further than it ever had done before. My experience of life had suddenly taught me so much. Coming home to affluence, bars, security, wealth, materialism, a different pace of life - all of these threw me. The sensation carried on into Greece...

But a highlight in Turkey was seeing a performance of Rumi's Whirling Dervishes. That was magical, even though it took place in a room in a Railway Station. As the dancers turned and their arms opened up like flowers, I almost found myself crying with its beauty. A special occasion and, in a sense, the completion of something which had started in Konya three years before. Turan, of course, had seen the real Dervishes in Konya itself, that being where he was from.

Meeting Turan was lots of fun - and illuminating. He is interested in the same things I am interested in, but is exploring them from a Muslim perspective. That in itself was fascinating and interesting. It was also lovely to meet his charming fiancee. May they both have many years of happiness!

The journey from Istanbul to Thessaloniki was hellish, far worse than anything in India. I was horrified when, leaving the Dervish performance in the railway station and going to book my ticket for the next day, I was told it would take 16 hours to get from A to B! Zoinks! I woke up early the next morning to catch the 8.30 to find all the electricity on the front desk down, so I couldn't pay with a card as the computer etc was down. I had to go off and find a cashpoint somewhere. Somehow I managed to catch the train, but even that was heavy going. I missed the solidarity of travellers I had encountered in India. Ok so the station wasn't covered in poo, there were no flies buzzing about and lepers weren't asking me for rupees but hey, nobody's perfect...!

Six interminable hourse later in which I grappled with exhaustion, the cold and some low spirits we were all offloaded in a zero-horse town called Pythion to wait for our connection. I shared the ticket office with a group of English girls, three Australians and two grumpy Greeks lost in their own world. Then, brilliantly, the ticket guy revealed that we all had to pay a supplement of 6 and a half Euros to get to Thessaloniki. We were all aghast as no-one had said any of this in Istanbul. I had no Euros and took it up with the guy.

ME: 6 and a half Euros? Nobody told me about that in Istanbul!
GUY: (shrugs in that way only a Greek can)
ME: I don't have any Euros. I didn't know I needed them.
GUY: (shrugs)
ME: Is there an ATM nearby?
GUY: ATM? 22km to next village.
ME: Well do you take cards?
GUY: (as if its my fault) No cards.
ME: Well how am I supposed to get Euros?
GUY: Borrow from your friends (indicating English girls).
ME: They aren't my friends! I am travelling alone!
GUY: (shrugging again)Get taxi to village with ATM.
ME: A taxi?!?!? Now hang on! No-one told me about any of this in Istanbul! How was I supposed to know?
GUY: (not knowing he's near death, shrugs)

Before turning into the Human Torch and blasting the guy and his bushy moustache one of the girls stepped forward and offered to lend me the money. With everything - the stupid situation, the bad weather, the endless trip, my exhaustion and this colliding with obstacles the like of which never happened in India - I was getting angry and more down. Where was the warmth and friendship I had got used to? The energy? The electricity? Instead here I was in this cold country which I had always loved with these cold people. I guessed that maybe this idiotic scenario with the Euro supplement was some kind of warped expression of how Turks and Greeks don't like each other. It seemed absurd, not only that it was happening, but that no-one had said anything in Istanbul about it or that any provision was made for travellers who were unfortunate enough not to have developed telepathy and who therefore didn't have any Euros. After all, this can't have been the first time people had arrived without knowing they had to pay a supplement. Ah well! Thanks anyway to the girls.

Another lifetime later we arrived in Thessaloniki, but two hours late at the dead of night. I staggered out of the train and got into a taxi, having found an ATM, paid back the girl and bought myself a turkey baguette. I was excited to be in Thessaloniki, but not at midnight and was relieved to get to my hotel. Exhausted, I got to my room on the seventh floor to find it utterly tiny, although lavishly furnished. You could have fitted it twice or three times into most of the places in India. But who cared? I was knackered and, still confused by all these new impressions (they felt new, having been thoroughly Indianised), I wanted to just go to sleep. And sleep I did.

The bed was very comfy so when I woke up the next day I felt hugely refreshed. I went downstairs for a lonely breakfast, negotiated some laundry (again, I had got totally used to having luandry done in hotels everywhere in India)and was amazed to discover that no-one in the hotel knew where the Tourist Information Centre was. I love Greeks but for some reason these guys were doing everything in Slow Motion, seeming to take ages to reveal that in fact they didn't know anything and were helpless to aid me? Where was my hard-earned Indian patience and detachment? Worse, I was picking up this new rythmn and feeling very heavy with it. And for the first time in a LONG time, I felt alone and lost in a foreign country.

But never mind. The weather was improving outside so I went for a walk along the beachfront. Alas, Thessaloniki felt like anywhere else. No major historic vibe at all, which was odd as it is steeped in history. Maybe I just like the rustic. I had loved every Greek Island I had been to - Crete and Keffalonia especially - but this felt like another affluent, well-fed European town with no priorities other than enjoying itself. Cafes were everywhere with people sitting about chatting and posing like they do everywhere else in Europe. A bit of a shame.

A few churches, a browse in a bookshop (where I bought a much-needed Guide!, a ruin and a cup of tea later my spirits were lifted a bit. But my head has been whirring. What have I come home for? Where is the wonder I had found? What was the point of India if I am just going to have to go back to the old way of living which had seen me go to India to escape in the first place? I just felt very disorientated. I am no longer interested in a life of sleeping, waking, working, eating, chatting, sleeping, waking again etc. I had left Europe for India because that was no longer nourishing me and I couldn't fit into it any more. There had to be something more. It can't be worse than when I left! Or maybe it wasn't the West that had changed but me? Maybe all the growth and flourishing and sense of belonging I had found in India meant that I was more acutely aware of my sense of not fitting in back here? Who knows?

This was clearly going to take some getting used to, but I expected that. I am going to have to decide a lot of things. Do I stay and give it a go or do I go back? We shall see. All I know is I want what I found in India to continue to be part of my life. I want that specialness, that wholeness, that wonder, to be with me wherever I am. I have grown and I have changed and I am not prepared to compromise that. For me, it has to mean something. I am not putting it all back in the box.

I also don't want to be a Jeremiah. I don't want to be some moaning minny endlessly going on about 'India! India!' I will have to find a way to do carry the joy and beauty I have experienced on with me... But it may mean going back for good. Who knows? Even if I don't, I know it is going to become a permanent feature of my life from now on...

And it has only been a few days. We don't know what awaits. Maybe tomorrow the heavens will open and Greece will reveal its genius to me again...

But I am not giving up what I have gained. I am going to continue that journey....

DUBAI DOO BE DOO

I'm tapping this out happily on a computor in Dubai Airport (which is HUGE by the way!), waiting for my connecting flight to Istanbul. Ay gevalt! What a journey! Six hours on a bus from Madikeri to Bangalore plus one hour in a taxi to the airport yesterday, a six hour wait for a 4.15am flight, and now an eight hour wait for my flight to Istanbul. But after two months of travel accross India in which I took planes, trains and automobiles (not to mention autorickshaws and knackered goverment buses, or even a few motorcycle rides!) I am more of a hardy traveller than Odysseus and so can take it in my stride!

My last week at the School was miraculous. As I said, the children seemed fitter, stronger, healthier and more wonderful than the first time round. When I arrived, with a magnificent feeling of coming home, they call came rushing up to the gate to greet me, crying out 'Jake Uncle!' and giving me huge hugs with massive smiles bursting on their faces. The light in their eyes was unforgettable. Even kids who I hadn't thought I had made any impression on ran up and pushed forward to say hello and have a hug. And then to top it all, the crowd suddenly parted and one of them, Bharati, pointed and said 'Baldy Suresh is sleeping but he is coming now'. Startled that he was still known as Baldy Suresh thanks to me I looked up and there was a little sleepy bundle being carried across the School by an older kid. Baldy was put in my arms and I gave him a big hug, but he was grumpy-tired and didn't recognise me. Nevertheless it was wonderful to see him and them.

A month and a half had passed since I left and the seasons had shifted, so the School looked different. It had clearly had a lot of rain as the foliage was rich and green and abundant where it had been arid and dusty in Feb. The whole place felt very full-blooded and confident. There were new Teachers there as well as Laurie and Aleli, both of whom it was wonderful to see. More of these new Teachers later.

It was great to be back and I sat in the main office with Aleli and Laurie and we chatted about my adventures. It was equally lovely to be back at Gungama's house with her wonderful cooking. Shame I had to get ANOTHER stomach bug which laid me out for a day, but I guess it was another purification process going on. AS before, there were people there to help and nurse me through, putting my mind at rest that I didn't have Cholera (thank you, J G Farrel's otherwise superb THE SIEGE OF KRISHNAPUR) and getting me on my feet. Phew! At least I felt I aachieved something only getting a runny tummy on my last week in India.

But what a last week! In Madikeri, the place which I had feared when I was first there, I was greeted as an old friend in all the shops I went into. Madikeri too was transformed by the weather and the greenery into somewhere rather nice... I fell in love with it in the end!

But the kids, the kids, the kids... So wonderful. So special. After a day or two I had given myself to them again and was feeling their warmth, love and vitality flowing through me. On one day, the skies opened and burst with a violent torrential rainstorm which suddenly gave way to hailstones as big as pearls or gobstoppers. Watching the kids shriek and laugh and run about in the rain was magical. It was like being taken back to one's own childhood again when the whole world was full of wonder and excitement. I realised once again how much we make ourselves lose as adults when we grow up and how we need to recapture that again if we are to make life worth living once more in this world.

We played games and I taught them songs and developed a little play with them for a presentation on my last day. Teaching them NOWHERE MAN by the Beatles and hearing their little voices sing it was like rediscovering something you thought you had lost. Going through it in detail its a work of genius. I found myself thinking how strange it was that the Beatles were the ones who opened up and popularised India for us in the West in the Sixties. I guess my time there is as much a product of their experience of the place as anything else.

We had so much fun, the kids and I. A highlight was stomping around with baldy Suresh and little Nandini wrapped round each foot like enormous slippers, their little faces a delight of fun and joy as they bounced around the School grounds. The final presentation and the gifts they gave me were lovely too.

The new Teachers were wonderful people - Jeanie, Gale, David, Roger, Peter and a slightly scary old German lady called Varina. We all found ourselves having those wonderfully rich and moving conversations that India seems to draw out of people. All of us were there for a the same reason - searching for something, seeking to escape what felt like the constricting materialism of the West. What was wonderful was, once again, the ability to talk about life, feelings, ideas which we felt we had to hide in the UK and America quite naturally. As we spoke, we all found ourselves enriched and strengthened by each other's ideas and experience. I learnt so much from them and found myself deeply inspired by what they were doing. I wish them all well on their individual quests and I hope we all stay in touch. To be able to make connections in this way, to meet people like this and pool experiences, is wonderful. As Jeanie said, in India one is allowed to be on a spiritual journey. Indeed its expected. Thus one feels free to explore that side of oneself without feeling afraid of being attacked or ridiculed or met with incomprehension. I cannot tell you the freedom that brings. One feels wounds healing and energies flowing which had only felt blocked and ashamed of themselves in the UK. Now I feel so much more whole, there is so much less doubt and I know that there are whole communities of people I now know and can call upon all over the world who are on the same journey as me and maybe I can help others who are asking the same questions as well...

So here I am in Dubai airport waiting for my connecting flight for Istanbul for the final leg of the Flight of Pegasus (for the time being). What have a I learnt from India? What will I take away? Well, three magical months of richness, learning, adventure and inspiration for a start. A new confidence in the knowledge that have actually done such a thing - cut loose, followed my heart and negotiated my way around India in one piece. I have seen things and met people I will never forget, and perhaps released an energy into my life which will always be nourishing. Highlights? Well the Taj, the Lotus Temple, the Ramana Maharshi Ashram to name but three. Best hotels? The Valli in Thanjavur, Biju's in Ernakulam and Sheela's in Agra. Worst? Well it has to be the shit-bedecked N S Lodge in Tiruvannamalai. Most mystical experiences? Sitting in the Meditation Room in Ramana Maharshi's Ashram, the Temple at Thanjavur, the Samadhi in the Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry and watching the Taj Mahal in the sunset.

But most special? Well you know what I am going to say...

Those wonderful, wonderful children in that School - Siva, Rajendra, Navendra, Amitha, Anjinama, Manjanath, Kelyani, Baldy Suresh and all the other magnificent kids with their shining eyes, their laughter, their delight in the world in spite of the horror they have seen... They will stay with me always and I know that whenever I am down the memory of them will restore me.

I thank the Cosmos for this opportunity and this voyage of discovery. I have seen that there is magic in the world, that there is wonder, that there is love and that there is possibility. Its location is India. It is focussed, for me, on a mountain in Koorg, but in fact it is all over that wonderful, mystical, maddening, harrowing, inspirational country...

And I have been there and I am deeply grateful... Thank you all who have followed this Blog for travelling with me. It has been a pleasure and it has been fun to feel that people have been entertained or even inspired by this adventure...

And now, let us see what happens next....

BACK WITH THE BABS

So here I am, back with the Babs at the Children's Project finding them, if anything, more beautiful, more rich, more full of love than before. But first, a quick rewind.

My stay in Delhi ended pleasantly. My last day was spent quietly in the YMCA chilling out, resting and watching telly. In the evening, I met up with a friend of my cousin Eleanor's, Kartikey, a young Indian guy from Delhi. We had a great time in Connaught Place popping into bars, chatting and eating. I had a chance to see Delhi's nightlife and its fun, although a little surreal at times, taking place as it is among the strangely British buildings of CP while also stepping over dramatically disfigured professional beggars in the street. Kartikey was very sanguine about a street boy, not disimilar to those at the School, for instance, but then in India this is what they are used to. We ended up sharing a beer in a bizarre Cowboy themed bar called RODEO in which Indian waiters wandered around in cowboy hats and boots and then went on to enjoy a chicken and egg wrap in a nearby cafe. Delicious. We discussed all sorts of things - politics, the Taliban, racism, the UK, Obama - with Kartikey giving me refreshing insights from his perspective. It was a good evening.

Returning to Bangalore via the plane from Delhi had its own adventures too. I was driven to the spanking new terminal by the Sikh guy who had driven me from the station when I arrived. To my dismay, although I shouldn't have been surprised, it was an enormous construction, just like any new terminal in Europe. In other words, once again, I could have been home, with the same Costa Coffees and Starbucks everywhere. Never mind. The experience of being at home continued all the way to Bangalore on the flight, which felt like any domestic flight I have ever taken. But I didn't let it upset me. I just let it happen and enjoyed the sense of security and familiarity.

As ever, destiny engineered and interesting encounter on the flight. A distinguished Indian woman sitting next to me, interested in the book I was reading, struck up a conversation. It turned out she was a Sitar player and disciple of Ravi Shankar. We had a wonderful conversation and exchanged contact details, vowing to communicate. India offered me one more fascinating connection!

In Bangalore I found myself in another interestingly homely but also dingy hotel with another comedy bathroom (where WAS all that water coming from really?). But it was nice to be back in Bangalore, even though the ostentatious wealth was still a bit of freak out! The next day I hooked up with Will, one of the guys from the School who was there for a few days. We had a great time in a strange NASA-themed restaurant (waiters dressed as Space Pilots!) and caught a Keanu Reeves movie which was just very violent. Then we parted, vowing also to stay in touch, which I know we will...

And so back to Madikeri and the School. Its been like the last chapter of a book where the main character returns to where he started. The six hour drive through Karnataka was amazing. After all my journeys, nothing compares the mystical landscape of this region. God put on a great show, with a dazzling sunset of flowing light and majestic flowing colours and trees everywhere. When I left Karnataka before, it was still dry and arid but beautful. Now with the rains it is lush, green and fertile. Magnificent. My heart burst watching it...

THen MAdikeri late at night. Like coming home. Then a crazy drive with a confused rickshaw driver getting lost in the dark. As the rickshaw paused to make a call, I looked out into the foliage and saw it alive with fireflys. I had never seen anything more magical in my life. Amazing.

Alas, returning here brought with it another attack of the wobbly bots. Not much fun. A sleepness night of sitting on the loo and vomiting. Ah India! I love you!

But the School - the School! What a welcome these kids gave me! What love, what smiles, what joy! And what confidence the school now has. THe kids look healthy and joyous. The leaves are full and there is green everywhere.

This is a special place. I know more than ever something wonderful is happening here... But I cannot say more as I must rush.

My time in India is almost over. Next Friday I fly to Istanbul my final adventures in Turkey, Greece and France before returning home, perhaps a new man. Who knows? Before I go, tell me - should my Blog end with India or would you like me to continue with the final flights?

Answers on a postcard! Speak soon!

DELHI DELIGHTS

After the ups and downs of yesterday, I hired the same taxi man to take me around some more sights in southern Delhi. This time, it was fascinating...

I still feel a bit all at sea here as its so big. I also feel very touristy, which I haven't elsewhere. This is a true capital city, vast and majestic, with a life which will always go on without you. I love the atmosphere. Its much more laid back than anywhere else I have been. The air of confidence is palpable. I think it would be possible to be born and live in Delhi all your life and never see anything else of India, much like so many other capitals of the world. As a consequence, of course, you would never get a sense of your own country. We are miles away from the privations and suffering I saw in places like Madurai or Tiruvanammalai. Many of the south Indians I met would marvel at what there is in Delhi.

Pizzas for instance. I managed to find one yesterday, although not with a beer, alas. It was very welcome. Just what I needed. And not too expensive. I fell into conversation with two Delhi students sitting next to me who I liked, although quite soon I may invest in a little lapel badge saying, 'Thank you for not asking if I am married'. A bit late, I suppose, as I've been asked it by pretty much everyone everywhere in India. Its nothing kinky, its just polite over here. Since no-one reaches my age without getting married very much over here it comes as a shock to Indians when I have to explain that I am not. THey ask to make conversation. Family is important over here. Some Westerners I have met have turned to saying 'Yes I am married' and sprouting fantasy children back home so as to short circuit the conversation. Ah well. I was warned.

Today kicked off with a drive around the Parliament buildings and the nearby India Gate. They are huge, far larger than anything we have in the UK. They also give you the rather surreal sense of BEING in the UK as they look as if they were lifted directly from London, which, in a sense, they were. We Brits built them during the Raj. It feels odd to think that the newly independent Indian Government should not have decided to build their own Parliament buildings in 1948 and instead chose to continue to meet in the old British seat of power. But hey! Who am I to judge?

As well as the Parliament buildings there is a the President's Residency at the apex, facing the India Gate down a long, Washington-like walkway. In fact the whole place has that Washington, Masonic feel. Impressive, but odd.

After that, the driver took me to Hamuyan's Tomb, which is the burial site of the first of the Moghul rulers (Akbar's dad I think). As in Agra, it is a masterpiece of design, set in cool, relaxing gardens. Beside the entrance is the Sarai (Rest)building of the Architect who built it. A well-wisher on the net had dropped me a snotty e suggesting I was immoral for liking the Taj Mahal because of the brutal way in which its architect was treated after it (eyes poked out so that he couldn't build another one. THanks for that. I will burn all my pictures tomorrow) and I hoped the same hadn't happened to this guy...

The Tomb itself is breathtaking. A little like the Taj, the central mausoleum just gives you this incredible sense of space. Three stories high with Hayuman's grave in the middle, like Akbar's burial place, it is very cool and simple. Each window is filled with wonderful geometric patterns through which the light pours. Looking around me, I noticed the whole thing was in the round, just like the Royal Exchange where I worked and the Round Churches the Templars used to build. Its so clear to me now how our architecture in Europe was changed by our encounter with Islam during the Crusades. Islam itself was in turn influenced by its encounter with Byzantium, basing its Mosques on Byzantine Churches. This particular tomb was also influenced by Persian design. In the end, the myth that the different religions and cultures all sprang up independently of each other is just so much self-deluding crap. We have always been flowing together, even when at war.

I loved Hayuman's Tomb and left it reluctantly, but needs must. Next stop was Nizramuddin's Tomb in the Muslim quarter of town. This was a smidge of a disappointment (although I have a feeling I missed something), but visiting the bustling Muslim area was like going back in time, although it was clear how depressed the community was. It must be hard having once been the rulers of India now being a small but significant minority. I don't know how prosperous the Muslims are in India but this enclave looked tough.

From there to the wonderful Lotus Temple of the Bahai faith. I think this has been the highlight of my stay in Delhi and I would count it as one of the most beautiful things I have seen out here. It looks a little like Sydney Opera House and is built in the form of an enormous closed Lotus of white surrounded by pools of blue water and a vast, elegant garden. Aerial shots of it in the complex itself reveal its beauty even more as, like so many others of the sacred sites I have seen out here, its layout reveals itself in all its splendour from above (those who think this means ancient sites were built to be viewed by Aliens flying above take heed... that wasn't the plan here and need not have been the plan elsewhere).

Unlike everywhere else I have been, no-one in the Lotus Temple wanted my money. The Bahai clearly have high standards of honour and take what they do seriously rather than as a way of cadging rupees (mind you, they all looked a lot more prosperous than most of the guys I saw in the other siets of worship. I am almost certainly being unfair. I guess I am losing my patience with endlessly being seen as a cash cow, especially here in Delhi). You approach the Temple along an elegant pathway through the gardens. In keeping with the syncretic idea of the Bahai, in which all religions are welcome and seen as speaking of the same reality, it is circular with nine petals of the lotus fanning out from the centre. Like the Taj, it is built so that its backdrop is the sky and the sky alone. It reminded me a little of the Matramandir I saw in Auroville too, although the Lotus Temple is far more beautiful, to me anyway.

Inside, one sits in complete silence in the vast open space beneath the lotus ceiling, in the centre of which is a star-shaped design with nine points. Its wonderfully peaceful and in no way austere, unwelcoming, gloomy or oppressive. The ethic of the place is that everyone is welcome to just sit and meditate or take in the vibe. There are no ceremonies or sermons. Its just an open, welcoming space. I loved it. A Temple to humanity, which is where the Bahai believe God resides.

The texts around the Temple were not so inspiring, but the ethic on display was. Total equality of gender, class, race etc and an open policy towards all religions. I read that Gandhi described the Bahai Faith as 'a solace to all'. I remembered that Dr David Kelly was a Bahai follower, which made me think a little. Interestingly, my cuz Eleanor told me that part of the inspiration of the movement was Akbar's policy of tolerance for all religions and attempt to synthesise them into a new one. It was a great place.

People are no doubt wondering about my interest in all these religions and asking themselves what I really believe and why I don't follow one. The reason I don't follow one and don't think I ever will is because I am interested in the universality of spirituality, in which case signing up to one at the exclusion of the others is not of interest to me. I also don't think any of them are complete and I reserve the freedom to persue these issues in my own way. I have a deep love and interest in them all - although not uncritically so - and am fascinated by their expression down through time and around me. They speak of something very profound with in us, whether or not one believes in God or not. This is why India is so rich for me as its ethos is pretty much the same. While there have always been and will be conflicts, in essence spirituality is allowed in all its forms in India. You will work hard to find many Atheists, but by and large, intolerance is not predominant and so one can see every spirituality in action wherever you want...

From the Lotus Temple then onwards to... a craftworks shop... Thanks car driver. As this has happened to me 300 times already in India I just rolled my eyes and played along, refusing to buy anything. Tea was offered, I was shown how to weave a Kashmir rug and efforts were made to enable me to buy a sandlewood statue but to no avail. It was a shame as I had grown to like my driver. Ah well...

He finished by dropping me at a second Sikh Gurudwara in Delhi just round the corner to the YMCA. Again I loved it. Again like the Lotus Temple, no-one was after my money. The Sikh ethic is one of openness and honour, so the shoekeeper people didn't ask for money, the doormen didn't ask for money and so on. As I was about to enter teh Gurudwara itself the spearcarrying guard gestured to my head and I realised I needed to wear a bandana. When he could see I had no idea how to tie it he stepped forward, selected one for me and put it on my head for me. He didn't ask me for any money and instead looked at me warmly and said 'Welcome'. THAT is how it should be done. I like the Sikhs! Honour to that man.

The classic image of India of a man with a beard in a long robe wearing a turban is actually Sikh. The clothes traditional Sikhs wear mark them out. One becomes aware of how powerful the sense of community they have is. It is centred round the idea of the Kalsa, the military tradition which rises up to protect the community in times of threat. Although one gets a feeling of the enormous strength of Sikh men (they are big guys!), one doesn't get a sense of any prnt up anger or rage as one sometimes gets from other religions. Its as if they are all guardsmen of their community but have a strong sense of self discipline. As yesterday, the vibe in the Gurudwara is very welcoming and egalitarian. People come and go, sit together, pray and talk while people sing and recite Scripture (very important for the Sikhs, who revere their Holy Book, the Granth, almost as a God, the repository of the Divine Word). In both Gurudwaras there were rooms in which bearded, robed men with flywhisks were sitting studying the Granth quietly.

As you can tell, I really liked the Sikhs I encountered both here and yesterday. I felt very safe with them, which I haven't always felt everywhere else. No-one tried to scam or cheat me. Instead I felt honoured, welcomed and respected. These felt like good people.

I spent a little time walking around the water of the Gurudwara's Temple Tank, which was lovely in the baking sun, and then headed back to the YMCA for a little lunch. After that, I headed into Connaught Place to find a bookshop. I enjoyed the search, but felt a little wearied by the endless people targeting me and trying it on, from a rickshaw wallah trying to convince me that the shop on my map which was only round the corner was actually miles away to a guy on Connaught Place itself who tried to sell me yet more crappy postcards. When I said, 'No thanks. I have my own camera.' He whipped out, quick as a flash and without breaking his step, a snake charmer's flute and started blowing on it uselessly.

"Flute, sir?" he asked.

I was about to ask him if he had a cousin in Mysore, where I had run a relay race of idiots trying to sell me flutes one after the other as if although I had refused one I had in fact been holding out for the next guy, and then thought better of it.

"No thanks" I said.

At which point he whipped out, seemingly from nowhere (did he have pockets like Dr Who? Where had the flute and postcards gone?) what looked like a cross between a bong and I don't know what...

"Pipe sir?"

"No thanks" I said and moved on, narrowly avoiding another guy who was about to volunteer directions unasked, no doubt hoping for a rupee or two for the information. This went on for a while and I never found the bookshop, although I did find two others, one of which sold me a wonderful rare book at a discount. That's India. The pestering can be draining, but the gems of decency which suddenly jump out make the heart shine. And its not really that bad and no-one means any harm, just after three months of it it can be a bit wearying. Maybe next time someone has
a go at it I will just say, "Look I have been here three months and I know the game. I am not buying..."

So today comes to an end. One more day in Delhi and then down to Bangalore and then Koorg for my last week with the kids. And then, Europe... I am just a month away from London. India is almost over, at least for this episode. It has been and will continue to be, no doubt, amazing, life-enhancing, mind-expanding. I know a lot more about myself and the world and I don't intend to let all that just go back into the box when I get back... I am looking forward to seeing everyone but I am not going to allow myself to get into the same fix I got myself in before I came out. After all those wobbles at the beginning, I don't feel afraid any more. Who knows what lies ahead of me? I may write a book! We shall see... But before I return, I am going to enjoy what I have left. India, Turkey, Greece, France and then London.

Love to all and thank you for reading!