Postcards from Tasma

At the Ferry Terminal

Lucinda: It was such a hot day. Dont blame me if I don’t have a big smile!

Ethan is thinking about his lost bag, which had his ipod, camera and wallet in it… But thats a whole other story.

We took a ferry to Havelock Island:

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Emerald Gecko

This is right out the front of Emerald Gecko, where we stayed. We stared at this for a long time, and the kids spent many hours playing on it. We stayed here, on Havelock Island. Wonderful place, and full marks to the remarkable Sunny, who runs it like you are guests at his own house. I recommend it if you want something very unique and laid back, and you dont care about gold-taps-style ‘luxury’. If you think having a real tropical beach out the front, and a cold Kingfisher gathering dew on the table is luxury, thats this place.

Lucinda: These beaches have lots of hermit crabs on them. Audrey and I spent a long time playing with the hermit crabs.

Note boy up tree.

Fi: Hard to believe, but I actually haven’t brought any beach flotsam and jetsam back with me – all the shells had hermit crabs in them anyway. There had been a cyclone the week before we arrived. You could see the impacts everywhere, including the amount of stuff washed up on the beach.

It says “Rock Church Ministry”. I dont know why. One thing that happened after the Tsunami though was that charities from around the world provided new fishing boats to affected fisherfolk in Sri Lanka, so maybe the same thing happened here.

Lucinda: this is where we saw a red octopus zooming around one of these ponds. He changed colour, and he tricked your eyes. You thought he was under a rock, but he was right there. Audrey almost didnt see him, because she was busy talking to hermit crabs: “No bluey, back into the coconut!”

Ethan: woke up one morning and found a new rope swing, ready and waiting for e to jump on to, and swing into the warm water. It was made from a bit of rope tied to a real vine which was hanging from the tree.

Ethan: A long, refreshing drink after a sand ball fight with the girls. The girls wanted to put hermit crabs into my shorts. I had to defend my honour.

Around The Andamans

Lots of the local fishing boats (Dungi – ever wonder where the word “dinghy” comes from? Or maybe its the reverse) look like this. Some of the boats are now being run as dive businesses, rather than fishing enterprises. Because its location, the Andamans are a strategic waypoint for migrants and asylum seekers coming across the seas. Some of these boats are acquired by local fishermen after they are confiscated by local immigration officials.

Nick: Basically, palm trees everywhere. Up the middle of the island, a mountain range, which sometimes marches right into the sea. The whole island chain is just the tops of a submerged mountain range which begins in Burma.

Fat Martins, where you go for the Nutella Dosa and a super dessert I have only seen on these Islands called “Hello to the Queen”!

Scuba Diving

Ethan, Lucinda and Nick went scuba diving – an experience provided by the the excellent gang at Andaman Bubbles (hey Subash, Hey Karan. You rock).

Ethan: Scuba diving was sick. Dad got really scared and came up a million times but I didnt come up once and I saw the most fish.

We found Nemo. Problem solved. What was all the fuss about?

Lucinda equalising.

Bump-Head Parrot Fish. It was the size of Audrey.

Snorkelling on Henry Lawrence Island

We took a boat ride to another island and all jumped into the water to snorkel. Even Audrey, whose exultations could be heard blasting out of her snorkel. “Fish! Little Fish! Big Fish!”

Ethan: I jump off the yacht into the warm, still, deep water.

Fi: The skipper called out “whale” and pointed to shore. It seemed unlikely in the shallows, but then we saw the tails and realised we were looking at the shy national animal of the Andamans; dugongs.

Fi: The coral was mostly bleached white, however the fish were colourful and in abundance. Te bleaching is from el nino raising water temperatures, and also the tsunami and recent cyclones. Clouds of small silver fish would leap into the air, more like gazelles than fish.

Ever since I first snuck out in the evening to eat pani puri on the streets of Bangalore I’ve been a lover of Indian street food. The hand painted carts, the flavours, warm nights, the efficiency employed to prepare food in such a small space – this all appeals – but above all it’s the dedication to preparing one dish, over and over again, to perfection. Little has changed since Bangalore 25 years ago; I’m still mad about Indian street food – and it still satisfies – only now the vendors have mobile phone numbers and I can phone ahead my order – or ask for a delivery! Watch out for update number 2 (and 3, and 4) I’m just getting started on this topic! – Fi

This old yellow Ambassador advertises the local rug shop. It makes me happy when I see it.

Day 1 of India (on plane 1 )
I’m really stressed out and really tired when I get on our 8 hour flight to Singapore it sucked let me list why :

i felt sick.

i had a temperure

it went over to the next day.

In which locals get in my ear.

Lets see – what news? Well, this complete random guy came up to me in the street, a well-dressed gent. He said I had something in my ear. Next thing I know, in the middle of the footpath, with crowds streaming by – in a flash this guy has me in a kind of headlock, and he’s got something INSIDE MY EAR. Like, in seconds.It feels like metal. I dont want to move. There is metal in my ear.

Is a metal scraper. Next thing he is smearing ear wax and some white stuff I have never seen come from any part of my body ONTO HIS OTHER HAND. I don’t know what this thing is – all I can tell you is that it belonged on Embarrassing Bodies. Massive amounts of embarrassing, personal substances from inside me are being smeared onto his hand, like its an artists palette. Shock.

He must have three hands, cos somehow, he also dives into his bag and brings out an plasticised picture of him and some guy, and he’s saying “my friend, Malcolm”. He goes for the other ear. I come to my senses, throw his picture on the ground, whip out a hanky and wipe the excrescence off his hand, and tell him to go away.

He of course keeps walking with me as I walk off, talking like we’re old mates until he fades away.

I am pretty sure he was a pickpocket, but he didnt get anything from me that time. Excellent strategy as I can tell you having that done to you completely confuses you as he’s breaking about ten taboos a second.

Another day in India, the global capital of weird.

Yes. This.

So, I left a thousand rupees and change in my trousers when I washed them this morning. Thats them, hanging in the line. The watermark is still there: the money is fine. But its about three shades lighter than the rest of the cash going around Pune, which us usually the colour of dust.

Tonight went out with just this money in my pocket, and a little change.

No-one will take it! In shop after shop they hold it at arms length like its radioactive, scowl, and turn me away! Nobody has seen money this clean in Pune. I had mney in my pocket, but I was effectively broke. In the end I had to abort my plans,turn around and come home. The rickshaw driver, of course, wouldn’t take it either, so I had to run up to the apartment and bring him some proper dirty money!