SHANTI SHANTI NO KRANTHI!

So, Hampi. Beautiful place, beautiful people. Top destination. Hundreds of ancient temples everywhere, thousands of years old and so incredible. The place is scattered with millions, billions, trillions of huge boulders that look like they could topple any minute - pretty funky overall.

After getting chatting to Abdullah, the owner of a jewellery shop, one thing led to another and next thing we knew we were on the back of motorbikes heading to a remote 'lake' with a stash of illegal beers - two each, no need to worry mothers!

Upon arrival we took a dip in the lake, the sun melted behind the boulders casting a glorious light over our luminous white bodies (sisters aren't really the sunbathing sort....) Little did we know that infact these were crocodile infested waters until Abdullah shouted for us to get out and we scrambled up the rocks, grating our legs in the process, like the true mountain goddesses we are. The night progressed and we listened to Ramu  (Abdullah's friend aka Mowgli's) tales of fighting bears and sleeping in the wilderness.

Our other nights in Hampi consisted of many a Veg Thali, and what the Hampians do best: chillin'. (Shanti)

Next stop, Goa. After a god awful train journey in which Milly and Olivia attempted to sleep on a bed three metres high and the size of a park bench accompanied by Liv's beast of a rucksack we arrived. Horrific times. Nevertheless some of us slept soundly the entire time...and we made our way down to Agonda in Southern Goa.

Since Hampi we've done alot of not a lot. Agonda was beach beach and more beach, interrupted only by frequent food breaks. We managed to muster the energy to hire two scooters for a few days. Thankfully due to Mill and Liv's experience with such vehicles we only broke down the one time...

Other goings on included one night spent enjoying complimentary drinks from Suman the manager of our guesthouse who was obviously bored of our sobriety and early to bed - late to rise routine. During this evening we blessed the restaurant with our own selection of music and had an interesting encounter with a farting Finnish fellow.

Despite the easy living vibes of Agonda, we were all looking forward to packing up and moving on up to Anjuna in North Goa, famed for its parties and less than idyllic beach. We arrived and were reunited with 4 fellow travelers from home - Lee, Josie, Alice and Jack. Great company, not so great location, however we spent a wonderful evening eating dinner in front of a huge screen showing Pulp Fiction followed by an unsuccessful trek accross the beach in search of a rumored party. Found ourselves at a mad beach bar instead, populated by some crazy Russians who were intent on getting us to join in with their equally crazy dancing.

After saying farewell to Lee and co we all decided we had had enough of Goa and planned a route back to home soil - Karnataka. Five buses later we were waiting for the final one to take us to Gokarna. Due to the delay. hoards of Indians descended on it, throwing their bags ( and children ) in through the windows in an attempt to 'reserve' seats. Safe to say we didn't make it on, especially as we had our beasts of rucksacks in tow. Instead we took a taxi, and here we are, staying at the Namaste Cafe on Om beach. Welcome change from Goa: peaceful beach and calm sea, populated entirely by 'Bangalore Boys' - middle aged Indian men who turn into squealing toddlers when in the sea. When out of the sea they take equal enjoyment from oggling our sari-less bodies.


Well, that is all ladies and gentlemen...until next time!

Ps. it has come to our attention that readers are attributing our rather amusing jottings to one member of our ranks only....this simply isn't fair, it's a group effort -so never fear mothers, we are all contributing!!

Peace and love xxxx

So, we're officially awful bloggers - sorry guys! So much has happened in the last few weeks, it's been a cultural whirlwind. It all started with the night of the elements/the holiest day of the Christian calendar, Good Friday. As the convent mourned for the death of our Lord, we celebrated by dancing in the pouring rain on the roof aided by our trusty port. A little later, finding ourselves desperate for a cigarette but lighterless, determined not to be beaten by this minor set-back, we used our resources and found a spark and a can of insect repellent. Needless to say we created a pretty impressive explosion, burning Liv's eyebrows off in the process but nevertheless were triumphant! Hallelujah!
After 5 weeks of life in the Nunnery we got an invitation to taste the high life at family friends here in India. Just getting into a vehicle without the hoards of sweaty bodies was heavenly and getting coconut on the side of the road set the idyllic tone of the evening that followed. On entering the neighbourhood populated by Bollywood directors and politicians we knew we were in for a treat. And were we right or were we right?! Within minutes of being shown through the ethnically decorated house into the leafy garden, the cook served up God's gift to man/the one item of food we had all been craving since leaving home; HUMOUS, washed down with cinnamon beer (sounds gross, is amazing). We talked all night, ate too much food and fell asleep in a beautifully air conditioned room after having the most powerful shower ever.

The next day Father Gerard invited us to a 'feast' - we expected a hearty meal and a light pray. Instead it was a 4 and a half hour pray and a light meal. Bad times. After the mass was finally over the children danced to Venga Boys and the choir sang and we were dragged on stage to dance to Barbie Girl.

On Tuesday as we walked home from school, Father pulled up in his car and announced a surprise visit to the slum. We told the Sisters we would be back by 8:30pm and off we went. Next thing we know we were squeezing through a tiny gap between a church and a tree trunk. Once we were in the slum we were stormed by children all smiling and holding our hands. We were shown into a one roomed house where a whole family lived and shared a tiny wooden bench to sleep on. The whole thing whizzed by in a whirlwind and next thing we were back in the Jeep and on our way home. Or so we thought....instead Father surprised us again and we wound up at a massive Catholic convention celebrating Father Xavier's Golden Jubilee - everyone wanted photos with us and him. The entire hour was totally bizarre and in our overwhelmed and confused state we lost track of time until Father finally decided to look at his phone and saw the 20 missed calls from Sister Pratibha. In our naivity we thought our lateness would be fine as we were with a Priest, however not so. Even Father was avoiding a confrontation by avoiding her calls, making the situation even worse. When we finally arrived back at the Convent at 10pm, there she was, standing by the gates, arms folded, her saintly expression replaced with a rather stern one and we were scolded nun-style.

In the morning, we awoke with the dread that comes with the prospect of begging forgiveness from a nun. Morning mass having evidently cooled the Sister's fury, we crept up to her apologising profusely. Worked a treat and all was forgotten. Hallelujah!

The next day we jumped back in Father G's Jeep for another trip of enlightenment. First stop was Mother Teresa's convent - it was the strangest place - a home for mentally disabled children that people are permitted to visit and look around as they please. We all found the zoo-like feel quite horrid. We then went to another slum where they made delicious crisps and then the quarry where some of the school children lived. It was strange to see the reality of their lives.

Our busy social life continued and we spent the following morning at the home of a teacher where we were fed till we could eat no more. By this point we felt as though we had experienced the extremes of life for Indians living in Bangalore. From witnessing the poorest lives in the slums to enjoying endless food at the relatively wealthy house of Nirmal the teacher's.

Our trip to the IPL cricket match with Monica and co topped off this cultural storm. Dressed in our traditional Indian outfits stitched for us by the nuns we transformed into mad cricket fans, waving our RCB flags and screaming in support of Chris Gayle's continuous sixes! Bangalore won the match and in high spirits we were taken for dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe. Never has an American style burger been so good or so filling. We couldn't quite get to grips with where we were surrounded by westernised Indians and loud rock music. But nevertheless it was a welcome break from the intensity of our experiences in the last few weeks.

On our return to the girls we were bombarded with questions about Kohli (https://www.google.co.in/search?q=virat+kohli&aq=f&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&tbm=isch&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&ei=84lyUez9FI2lrQefhICAAw&biw=1024&bih=677&sei=9IlyUevfM83hrAe8vICADA), the captain of RCB and the fantasy love interest of all the girls. We responded to their inquiries with restraint because Monica had promised to get the autographs of the entire team and drop it to them in the next week or so!

Saying goodbye to the nunnery was a mammoth task spread over three days. Many a tear was shed on Milly's behalf, many a gift shared, and many versions of 'The Lord Bless You and Keep You' were sung as we dug deep to find the only holy song in our repetoire that we could remember. As the alternative (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MbUCzUk84fE) did not seem quite appropriate.

On the last day at school Liv and Mil got pimped Indian style - the teachers had finally had enough of their western scruff and showered them with saris, bindis, jasmine flowers and henna. At the convent we were each read a poem that 'aptly' summed up our characters (copies to follow...) It was a bitter sweet end, we were so excited to get to the beach but saying our farewells to so many people was a sad and poignant moment.

Halfway through our trip in India now, it's been incredible so far, we promise to bless your screens with more blogs in future.....