Belfast - the vibrant capital of Northern Ireland

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Europe, they say, was made for summer. Glorious June afternoons spent picnicking at the park, sunny August mornings foraging for wild strawberries along the lavender-strewn meadow paths—all montages of a sun-worshipper’s dream come true. But I have amassed more than enough evidence from my recent winter trip to Ireland to debunk the claim that summer is the only season [and reason!] to see this continent shine at its brightest. And Belfast, the tiny and compact capital city of Northern Ireland seems to have provided me with plenty of examples…

Now, almost every big city the world over lays claim to having at least one Irish pub. Places where the levels of bonhomie and raucous revelry reach a frenzied pitch as the night progresses on with plenty of music and dancing thrown in for good measure. Places where the empty pint glasses of beer lined up in front of a patron begin to outnumber the hours in a day. But nothing prepares you for an Irish pub experience in Ireland. A ritual that is a great orientation to a land that typifies the clichéd truism—‘live for the day!’

And so, like most other travellers to the Emerald Isle of Northern Ireland, where exaggerated drunken tales of leprechauns and other mysterious creatures of lore are exchanged over a pint of Guinness Beer, I began my tryst with all things Irish at one of Belfast’s most popular pubs one crisp Friday evening in late November. The Duke of York Pub, nestled along a narrow cobbled alleyway in the historic Half Bap area, is one veritable institution. Here, locals roll up their sleeves after a hard week’s work and settle down on a bar stool as they nurse their drinks, often catching glimpses of themselves in the many weather-beaten mirrors that line the walls of this historic pub while basking in the warmth of the fireplace. Settling for a shot of Jameson whiskey-laced Irish Coffee, I started to understand why Ireland truly is one of the world’s friendliest of places, where strangers turn friends the minute they clink glasses with you saying “Sláinte”—the Irish word for cheers, as they urge you to join them on the dance floor, while the local folk band belts out one lilting Celtic ditty after another.

The next day, thanks to a slight drizzle that had cast its gloomy web all over the city, my first morning in Belfast was spent indoors—at the wonderfully futuristic-looking glass-n-steel Titanic Belfast museum in the city’s historic Titanic Quarter. Housed in the erstwhile Harland & Wolff shipyard, where the ill-fated RMS Titanic was constructed, the year-and-a-half old Titanic Belfast contains more than 130,000 sq ft of floor space, with a very interesting rollercoaster-like ride taking guests throughout the building stages of the aquatic leviathan. Also in the museum complex is the fully restored SS Nomadic—the tender ship not just to Titanic, but also its sister ship, the RMS Olympic—that today sits in a dry dock; inviting visitors like me to come and be a part of history.

Another place that gives you a blast from the past is the Ulster Folk & Transport Museum located in Cultra, just 15 minutes out of Belfast’s city centre by car. The folk museum is a collection of old restored cottages, farms, schools and shops manned by guides dressed in period costumes who give you lessons in the way of life from 100 years ago as you step back in time. But being an avid transportation fan, I couldn’t get enough of the Transport Museum where visitors are encouraged to climb on and off majestic steam locomotives or ogle at the electric trams, motorbikes, fire-engines and vintage cars, including the DeLorean sports car that was made in Belfast and then went on to ‘star’ in the Back To The Future films franchise.

Back in the now-sunny city centre, a pre-lunch walk around the Cathedral Quarter helped build up an appetite for the cocktail-lubricated lunch my local Belfastian friends had promised to treat me to, at the trendy Berts Jazz Bar. But more on that later… Surrounding Belfast’s magnificent St. Anne’s Cathedral, the Cathedral Quarter has experienced two decades of regeneration and growth to emerge as a dynamic cultural hub in the city centre. This quarter is home to the Custom House Square [Belfast’s largest outdoor venue] Cotton Court, Writer’s Square, Cathedral Gardens and the recently launched Saint Anne’s Square that is home to the brand new MAC [Metropolitan Arts Centre] that opened its doors in the Cathedral Quarter in 2012.

Being a Saturday, the weekend Victorian St. George’s Market on May Street was next on my agenda to partake in all its foodie glory. With over 150 stalls, selling everything from traditional Northern Irish fare like Soda Bread, Belfast Bap and Ulster Fries to Indian curries and cheese from local dairies, this market is THE place to get a bit of culinary culture into your trip. It also has a section selling jewellery, paintings and other touristy tat at quite affordable prices.

With hunger pangs kicking in with the might of a Manchester United striker on a rampage, I trotted off to the Merchant Hotel whose Berts Jazz Bar is known for its awesome nosh and tipples. To the strains of a one-man band I indulged on a perfectly medium rare Sirloin Steak served with Potato Bread and Irish Blood Sausage [that wasn’t as bad at all as it sounds!] along with endless rounds of Bloody Marys and Moscow Mules and an Irish Cream Crème Brûlée to top it all off with. Ah pure, undiluted bliss that!

By the time we were done with lunch, a light powder coating of snow had begun to embellish everything in sight, turning them into almost edible seeming confections. One such snow-blanketed wonder was the glass dome of the Palm House at the Botanic Gardens in the south end of the city. Spread over 28 acres, the gardens were designed by Sir Charles Lanyon and completed in 1840. Serving as a quiet sanctuary and an apt place to commune with nature, the Botanical Gardens channels ‘winter wonderland’ to the hilt with its orchids and other flowers covered in sparkly frost!

Equally worthy of the sobriquet of ‘winter wonderland’ is Belfast’s stunning City Hall on Donegall Square that is decked out in all its ‘Christmasy’ finery all through winter with fairy lights, buntings and other glittering baubles. The Christmas market that it hosts every year spread over its grounds is a true treat for all the senses with its stalls dispensing a diverse range of festive goodies like spicy mulled wine, fudge, roasted chestnuts and even reindeer sausages and elk burgers for the more adventurous eaters like yours truly.

And that’s just where and how I ended my winter weekend in Belfast—a city where the party never ends. Come rain or sunshine… err, I mean snowfall!

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Be it conquering claustrophobia, ‘trapped’ in a wee submarine vessel to ogle shamelessly at the corals and sea anemones that make up Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. Or be it chowing down on a plate of grilled sow’s uterus skewers at a local Tokyo izakaya—I’ve let nothing daunt me in my quest. A search for the bizarre. A search for the unknown [and often, the uncool!]. A search into the very depths of my being to find the all-important answer to a question that perpetually haunts me—what is my ultimate purpose?

But I’m not going to make this a ‘whine fest’ moping about coming nowhere close to deciphering my raison d’être. I’m enjoying every nanosecond of the process. How else can you rationalise the fact that for the last four years, I’ve some way or the other found myself travelling on a plane, or traipsing about some foreign land on my birthdays. The first people to wish me being immigration officers and front office staff at hotels once they scan through my dog-eared and travel-weary little passport. I’ve shared a modest little birthday cake and measured glugs of bubbly with strangers sitting next to me in an A380 aircraft when the cabin crew surprised me with their thoughtful little edible [and yes, drinkable!] gifts along with rather tuneless renditions of the happy birthday song.

Airports around the world have taken on the title of quasi homes to me, as I navigate my way through their labyrinthine concourses. Stopping here for my favourite sushi platter I never miss out on having, or there for some podiacal pampering at the Thai foot spa. Some of my most favourite travel stories have been conceived and executed at airports as I’ve assaulted my notebook’s keypad going all militant on it, churning out piece after deadline-bound piece.

The surge of humanity at such places is beyond inspirational, as the little old lady sitting diagonally opposite me in the waiting lounge morphs into a character for one of my fictional essays. The boderline psychotic rants of the irate man in front of me at the check in counter lay the foundation for a story on airport etiquette. All these—and countless more—instances of how imagination coupled with a visceral sense of curiosity are a travel writer’s best allies.

But with allies come opponents. And one of the biggest challenges I face in both my professional life as a travel writer and thus collaterally in my personal life, is something that I call ‘erratica’. I have no fixed schedules for anything thanks to my spur of the moment, pack and go travel jaunts. Like a cloud floating languorously in the sky, I am everywhere yet nowhere. For me a journey is a destination and a destination, a journey. With a life runneth over with oxymorons, I chart my course along a rich tapestry interwoven with interesting people, off-the-beaten-track paces, surreal experiences and unbridled emotions.

Who knows what the future holds? Certainly not me! And I don’t want to either…

This was first published in the August 2014 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Taruveda Spa at the Tree House Resort, Jaipur

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You’d be forgiven for conjuring up mental montages of clichéd pink-hued palaces, majestic forts and rolling sand dunes when you think of the Pink City of Jaipur. I know that, because I fell prey to those very same set of tropes, having till then been only introduced to that side of this stunning city. But the minute I set my sights on the ‘other’ Jaipur, as I saw lush trees and a cascading 40ft waterfall, took in the arresting aroma of frangipani and heard the incessant chirping of birds, I made sure to never again judge a book by its cover. Ever.

This alternative, back-to-nature Jaipur that I’m trying to wax lyrical about is what I recently encountered at the Taruveda Spa that finds itself at the secluded end of the integrated resort complex of The Tree House Resort and The Water House Resort. Situated in the lap of the scenic Syari Valley with the hills of the mighty Aravali Mountains surrounding it, the Taruveda Spa truly lives up to the moniker of an oasis where rest, relaxation and rejuvenation form a formidable trifecta you cannot, and more importantly, must not avoid…

Named after the mythical taruveda tree from which all ayurvedic healing and knowledge springs forth, the Taruveda Spa may be diminutive in size with just two treatment rooms. But what it has on offer in terms of treatments is mind-boggling and diverse. Trawling through the spa menu, I chose a set of treatments that my therapist Narendra assured me was just what my stressed-out and constantly jet-lagged body needed.

So, after a hot shower—so that my pores would open up and be more receptive to the various unguents that would be applied onto it—I started off with the 75-minute Signature Taruveda Massage [INR 3,000]. Based on codified, centuries-old ayurvedic practices, this massage uses a mixture of traditional organic herbal oils made by herbal company Omved that are slowly released into the body via long, pressurised strokes that the therapist employs. All this aided by the live birdsong from outside that was proving to be the best ever spa soundtrack!

Next on the cards was a 60-minute long Organic Facial [INR 2,200] that laid claim to instantly transforming my dry, dull skin tone to a supple and radiant one as it worked on the lymphatic system, while detoxifying the facial skin. Ever ready to see some magic, I let a jet of steam assault my face, which was then worked on with an organic cleanser, a toner, a scrub, a mask application and finally finished off with a soothing honey moisturiser. Seeing the fabulous results, it was then and there that I decided to keep indulging the metrosexual man in me whenever I get the chance.

Finishing off my afternoon of ‘male-beautification’ with a Taruveda Foot Essentials [INR 900] pedicure for 45-minutes, was what agenda number three at the spa was all about. After a soothing anti-bacterial foot soak and scrub down, my criminally neglected and calloused soles, cracked heels and ingrown toe nails were finally bestowed the intensive therapy they so very much needed. A vigorous [and rather painful!] exfoliation and medicated moisturising wrap ended the foot pampering, and with it my three-part Taruveda Spa session that I hoped would never end.

But then it had to end. How else would I have time for a tryst with Jaipur’s clichés then?

Taruveda Spa at The Tree House Resort, Jaipur Contact: www.treehouseresort.in

This was first published in the January 2014 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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The Sultanate of Oman

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Diving in the Arabian Fjords

Laying claim to over 3,000 kilometres of rugged coastline, the Sultanate of Oman hugs the Arabian Peninsula with all its might. And one of the country’s most spectacular natural wonders can be found in the Musandam Peninsula up north. An area separated from the rest of Oman by the United Arab Emirates, the peninsula’s mighty fjords are the reason why the area is often referred to as the ‘Norway of Arabia’. With the brightest of lapis-hued waters meeting the dramatic limestone cliffs—that in some areas drop 2,000 metres into the ocean—the vista is unparalleled. But the true beauty of the fjords lies beneath the aqua that is teeming with exotic marine life. After a tranquil ride in a traditional Omani wooden boat called a dhow to Telegraph Island, where it drops anchor, you can deep-sea dive or snorkel for a tryst with the friendliest of dolphins who cheekily follow you with their squeaky clicking providing the soundtrack to your day of bliss.

**Fjord is a long, narrow inlet with steep sides or cliffs, created by glacial erosion

Go cave hopping!

Oman is packed with secrets that are simply waiting to be told. And here is one that will surprise you. Well, the Majlis Al Jinn Cave, located in the village of Fins in the Wilayat Quriyat near the capital Muscat, has the distinction of being the second-largest known cave chamber in the world with a floor area of 58,000 square metres. Besides this natural wonder, you can also visit the Al Hoota caves that can be found at the base of the Jebel Shams Mountain. Home to two lakes, one of which has rare blind fish, these caves are abounding with vertiginous stalactites and stalagmites that will stun you silent with their eerie beauty. Lying 40 kilometres from the southern Omani city of Salalah, the limestone cave of Al Marnif overlooks a mighty blowhole from where the waters of the Arabian Sea gush forth. Equally spectacular is the Teeq Cave in Dhofar. This cave has six entrances, with the western entrance being particularly impressive from where you can see the ‘Well of Birds’ or Tawi Ateer Sinkhole in all its rugged charm.

Waddle with turtles at Ras Al Jinz

Giant green turtles and the Middle East? There couldn’t be two more incongruous images. But it takes a place like Oman to harmoniously put the two together—providing you with a true vacation with a difference! Around 65 kilometres east of the city of Sur, the wide stretch of white sanded beach extending from Ras Al Hadd to Masirah Island in Oman’s Al Sharqiyah South Governorate sees a spellbinding sight unfold every year. Here, thousands of green turtles return to lay their eggs on the same beach where they were born decades ago. And around 50 – 70 days later, the tiny hatchlings set off for their perilous journey into the blue. This phenomenon can be witnessed from the Ras Al Hadd Turtle Reserve on Ras Al Jinz Beach that provides a quiet sanctuary for the entire process, thus securing the continued survival of the species and protecting them from extinction.

Hike up a limestone mountain and go fossil spotting

Jebel Harim, which literally means ‘Mountain of Women’ at 2,087 metres above sea level is the highest peak in Musandam. This is THE place to satisfy all your ‘Cliffhanger’ fantasies as you scale its razor-sharp slopes in search of fossils. Yes, you heard right, fossils! Once a sub-oceanic mountain, Jebel Harim has plenty of rocks and boulders where you can easily see some superbly preserved fossils, affording you the chance of playing discoverer as you make sense of how ancient submarine creatures like mollusc, fish, clams and numerous trilobites lay plastered across their surface. Offering another great facet to the mountain are the fine collection of petroglyphs depicting ancient agrarian and cattle herding scenes of daily life that were carved into the mountaintop boulders thousands of years ago, but that are just as vivid and striking today. Don’t miss out on a visit to the many cave dwellings that lay scattered along the mountain’s slopes that come complete with bedrooms and kitchens used by people as homes right up until the 1940s.

Dune-bashing and sand-skiing in the Wahiba Sands

We couldn’t resist sneaking in this little Middle Eastern adventure sport cliché. But the way it is done in Oman is truly different. The undulating desert area of Wahiba Sands, two hours out of Muscat, is perfect for a bit of sandy action. Here you can go on a 4WD dune-bashing safari or have a go at quad-biking or better still try your hand [or perhaps we should say feet!] at the newest desert sport to take Oman by storm, sand-skiing. But if you prefer a more relaxed, leisurely desert tryst, then a camel ride that takes you to a bedouin village tucked away in the middle of the desert is a great way to get a glimpse into the nomadic lifestyle of the desert tribes. On the way back to Muscat, take a detour to the Wadi Bani Khalid oasis. This water body surrounded by swaying date palm trees is perfect to try your hand at diving from the short cliffs into the bluest of waters you will ever see. A picnic on the shores is what most local Omanis enjoy when at Wadi Bani Khalid and so should you, once you’re done with your aqueous adventures in the cool waters.

This was first published in the November 2013 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Pachmarhi

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Blame it on the soft rays of sunlight that filtered though the branches of the fragrant mahua trees, or on the sweet, cool water I had just drunk from the bountiful waterfall… but I was stupefied. And this was just 10 minutes into my tryst with Pachmarhi.

I was fresh off my 14-hour, uneventful drive from Delhi, as I drove across dusty roads, flanked with verdant cornfields and a powder blue autumn sky above. I could have flown into Bhopal and then driven another 210 km up to Pachmarhi. But, there is something about a road trip that gets me all adventurous and raring to go.

As the only hill station in Madhya Pradesh, straddling the Satpuras at 3,500 feet above sea level, Pachmarhi is bestowed with oodles of beauty and charm. No wonder wounded and sick British army men chose this paradisiacal haven to convalesce in, when it was a sanatorium town during the Raj. Evidence of its British past can be seen at places such as the Christ Church with its stunning stained glass windows constructed in 1875. The Bison Lodge is another such relic. A part of Captain James Forsyth’s [who established Pachmarhi in 1857] legacy and built in 1862 as Pachmarhi’s first forest lodge, Bison Lodge is today a museum dedicated to the area’s flora and fauna. Interestingly, it also bears the distinction of being Pachmarhi’s oldest building.

But delving a little deeper into Pachmarhi’s history unearths another more ancient past. It is believed that the hill station gets its name from the Pandav Caves, which is where the Pandavas from the Mahabharata lived during their exile. Speaking of caves, there are a whole host of breathtaking masterpieces to set your sights on. While the Mahadeo Cave leading up to the Shiv Shrine at the Chauragarh Temple is one of the most popular, the Jatashankar Cave with its stalagmites is no less well-visited. The day I was there, a group of trigger-happy Japanese tourists couldn’t get enough pictures of the devotees taking dips in the sacred Jambu Dweep pond alongside the cave.

Pachmarhi offers an adequate range of comfortable accommodation options to suit every budget. I was booked into the plush Rock-End Manor—a jewel of a hotel that is next door to the Army Golf Course. Built in 1905, the hotel is famous for its spacious rooms and generous verandas from where one can see the emerald slopes of the hills meet the placid valley below in a warm hug!

On my last morning, after wolfing down a plate of steaming puri-bhaji, washed down with a tall glass of refreshing nimbu paani [that Pachmarhi is also famous for] at Raj Bhoj off Patel Road, I decided to end my Pachmarhi soujourn with a visit to the Big Fall or Rajat Prapat that snakes its way down a treacherous cliff, creating a gossamer veil of perpetual mist—a sight that you won’t forget in the days that follow your visit to Pachmarhi. Months even. Ask me…

This was first published in the October 2013 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Named in honour of the sand that seems to be everywhere in Jaisalmer—Rajasthan’s ‘Golden City’ as it were—this spa is part of Suryagarh, a majestic hotel that encapsulates the regal spirit and romance symbolic of this land. The Rait Spa wing of the hotel itself is a wonderful mélange of the ancient heritage architecture style with its intricately carved jaali screens, mother-of-pearl inlaid marble, sandstone flooring and modern fittings in its five therapy rooms like steam cubicles and in-built whirlpools. The spa garden flanking the structure is an oasis of calm so imperative for post-therapy ‘blissing-out’ amidst birdsong and the gurgling of the ornamental fountains.

After a quick scan through the rather exhaustive spa menu, over a warming cup of lemongrass and ginger infused green tea, I was ready to indulge. And in keeping with the whole royal mood of my stay at Suryagarh, I opted for a trio of treatments at the Rait Spa with a two-pronged agenda. One, I wanted to feel pampered like a maharaja of yore. Two, I wanted to re-connect with wellness, something my stressed out urban existence was sapping out of me.

For the first part of my treatment—the 120-minute Thermal Sand Body Massage and Scrub [`7,000]—my body was anointed with a heady spice scrub that my therapist told me consisted of a blend of Kerala vanilla, cardamom and mace. With this ointment coaxed into my every pore, the dead accumulated skin was slowly sloughed off with every deft stroke. The exfoliation session was then followed up with an hour-long massage that employed the use of small heated potlis [bundles] of Jaisalmer sand that, I was told, helped in relieving stiff muscles. And give relief it did, as I felt the nagging soreness in my neck ease away into oblivion and the knot in my lower back undo itself, thanks to all the thermal attention it was getting. The third part of the therapy was a henna [lawsonia inermis] and khus khus [vetiver] potli rub that was the ideal treatment for stress and exhaustion, I was informed. The bundles help by opening the pores further, so that they can release a deep medicinal heat to the muscles to relieve tension and revitalise the body, all the while focussing on the eastern theories of energy meridians. Well, I don’t know about any energy meridians, but it sure worked on me and had me feeling totally rejuvenated and ready to face the world a brand new man.

Speaking of face, the second therapy I was booked in for was the rather aptly named Rajputana Facial [`2,950]. This 60-minute therapy was a gentle journey of cleansing, exfoliation, massage and toning that began with the application of a paste made from almonds [a good source of vitamin E and proteins] and rose petals [known for their re-hydrating properties]. As my skin is on the drier side and prone to a bit of flaking, this was perfect. I could feel the tautness all over my face vanish as the almond-rose paste worked its wonders. The facial was then finished off with the application of a pomegranate toner as the ruby-jewelled fruit is well-known as an excellent astringent.

For the grand finale and curtain call for my afternoon of pampering, I had chosen to soak my body in the Bayra Bath [`4,450] for an hour. Inspired by the Ayurvedic Abhyangam, this bath had in its warm waters an added mixture of melted honey and lavender extract that was gently rubbed into my skin. Like rose petals, honey too is known for its skin re-hydrating properties, while adding a protective layer. Lavender on the other hand, I learnt, aids in balancing the skin’s natural pH balance while relieving pain and nervous tension.

But tension was the last thing on my mind after all that pampering and wellness that my body was subjected to. Bliss had taken over and my every cell was celebrating its sweet victory!

Rait Spa at Suryagarh, Jaisalmer, Rajasthan

Contact: www.suryagarh.com

This was first published in the September 2013 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Vientiane: Laos’ capital city

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I have to admit that for the first time in my life I was embarking on a trip to a country that I knew virtually nothing about. I didn’t even know that Laos is pronounced ‘Lao’ with the ‘s’ being silent! But then, I’ve also always subscribed to the belief that sometimes we must let serendipity take us by surprise and lead us to discoveries that have the potential to change our perception of the world as we know it… forever.

And so, one supremely muggy April morning, I found myself waiting in line for my passport to be stamped with a Laos visa at the Nong Khai border check point that this landlocked nation shares with Thailand. I had made a spur-of-the-moment decision to spend a couple of days in Laos after concluding a business trip to Phuket and Bangkok.

Immigration formalities dispensed off with and armed with just my guidebook, my tiny overnight bag and an innate sense of adventure, I hopped onto a passing tuk tuk [or songthaew as it is known as in these parts] and made my way towards Vientiane, Laos’ capital city that literally straddles the international border. But trust me; you wouldn’t be forgiven for assuming this leafy, charming city to be a ‘border town’. For, it is anything but!

Hugging the Mekong River with all its might, this quaint Franco-Laotian style city is a revelation in more than one ways. To begin with, the bougainvillea-lined streets are prefixed with the French word for road—‘rue’ and you are never too far away from a pavement side Parisian-style patisserie where a scrumptious pain au chocolat has your name written all over it. Yet, there is an innate, all-pervading gentle grace here that is so comfortingly South East Asian. A grace that you will see in the lilting accent of the sarong-clad tender coconut vendor or in the wise, rather rheumy eyes of the saffron-robed monk who greets you at the temple.

And that’s exactly where I began my tryst with Vientiane—at the Wat Si Saket temple on the meandering Rue Setthathirat. Wearing the title of Vientiane’s oldest Buddhist temple, the almost 200-year-old temple was built under the auspices of King Anouvong in 1818 to be the resting place for the over 2,000 silver and ceramic Buddha images that each have a niche built into the temple’s interior walls to hold them. Adjacent to the temple, the grey and white [and heavily guarded!] Presidential Palace is a great example of the mélange of French and Laotian styles of architecture, with its large slatted French windows and tiered domes and steeples that are so distinctly Asian in their aesthetic.

Another such architectural and cultural hybrid is the Patuxai victory monument that occupies prime position, a short walk away at the top end of the Rue Lan Xang. Built in 1968, using concrete donated by the Americans to construct a new airport for Vientiane, this monument is also known as the Anousavali [memory] Monument as a mark of tribute to the Laotian soldiers who lost their lives in WWII, just like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris that honours the dead French soldiers. In fact, the Patuxai even looks similar to the Arc de Triomphe with its two columns connected by a large domed arch that is decorated with carvings of the mythical half-bird, half-women beings called kinnaris along with the trinity of Vishnu, Brahma and Indra on the ceiling of the structure’s inner dome. Nothing very ancient about it, but jaw-droppingly stunning none-the-less.

With increasing bouts of the munchies kicking in, I decided to have my first taste of the local cuisine, that like most of this enigmatic country, I knew zilch about. And so, paying heed to the suggestion of my hotel’s receptionist, I headed off towards the Ban Anou Food Market near Vientiane’s Chinatown, off the Rue Chao Anou to get de-virgined in the wonders of Laos’ food. A few skewers of ping kai or barbecue chicken pieces, a bowl of green papaya salad and a chilled bottle of Laos’ national obsession— the rather mild and fruity Beerlao acted as my appetizers. I chased them with a plate of sticky rice topped with the basil-scented pork salad called láap and a herbaceous chicken curry that was redolent of that typically South East Asian herb lemonbasil also known as lao basil. For dessert, it was an assortment of khao nom—that are mostly rice and coconut-based gelatinous sweets with hints of egg and sesame seeds—that finally got me ‘fully fed up’ in a very nice way.

Next on the agenda was a visit to the well-maintained Lao National Museum that finds itself ensconced in one of the most beautifully restored colonial buildings on the Samsenthai Road. Re-built in 1945, after it was ravaged during World War II, this building was originally built in 1925 to serve as a meeting and ceremonial venue for the royal government. Only in 2000 was it converted into the Lao National Museum to hold and display old portraits, pictures and other regalia from the war. I was particularly fascinated by the permanent gallery that depicts the history of Laos from the 12th century Lao Lane Xang Kingdom right up to today.

A short walk from the museum, I wanted to check out a monument that very few tourists ever visit, but one which I was told by the museum docent that I shouldn’t miss. The black stupa or That Dam may look like just another innocuous pile of rubble carelessly plonked in a garden in the centre of a residential street, but for the locals it is a veritable talisman that they guard zealously. Legend has it that the stupa is inhabited by a seven-headed naga that once protected Vientiane from an invasion by the Siamese [now Thai] army in 1827 and will once again rise from its slumber, if the need ever arises.

Hungry once again after all those doses of history and mythology, my dinner was an assortment street cart snacks. Shrimp-on-toast, ‘Angry Birds’-themed chicken sticks, fried pork skin and the sticky-n-sweet pham ngu [dried squid] along with plenty of luridly coloured drinks—with my favourite being the purple taro root and coconut milk iced smoothie—was what I picked up from one of the many food and drink stalls at the riverside night market. This market sets up every night at 7pm under the piercing gaze of the gargantuan statue of Quai Fa Ngum—the last king of Laos.

It was here that I encountered, perhaps, the most poignant of all pit-stops of my one-day-in Vientiane—the bomb-jewellery stall. ‘Thanks’ to Laos’ rather sad title of the most heavily bombed country on earth per capita—that it got as part of the Vietnam War’s collateral damage being its most affected neighbour—a few Laotians have found a very heartwarming way of referencing this heinous atrocity of the past. And they do this by making pendants, earrings, rings, paperweights and assorted trinkets from the shrapnel and other parts of erstwhile bombs, landmines and weapons that can still be found in the jungles of Laos—often still alive and undetonated! Picking up a few such souvenirs for friends back home from an old woman with no left hand, but with a winsome smile and a twinkle in her eyes, I couldn’t but help feel that for the gentle Laotians, life goes on, no matter what.

…and just like that, my idea of the world that was once ‘plagued’ by cautiousness and suspicion was changed forever thanks to the innocence and grace that I saw in abundance in Laos—a country that I dare anyone to dislike!

This was first published in the August 2013 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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Imbued with a rich cultural heritage inherited from the ancient Aztec and Mayan civilisations and not to mention the long Spanish rule, this jewel of the Central American continent is exotic with a capital ‘E’. The food, the music, the people and the colours of Mexico are simply mesmerising and are sure to leave you spellbound! Sadly, with ‘Big Brother’ [USA] sitting haughtily on top of this vibrant nation, Mexico is often sidelined by travellers who choose to spend their time [and money!] exploring the more well-known locales of the US. But for those willing to scratch the surface of Mexico, they will find a very reasonably-priced holiday destination that offers all the same thrills, if not more, as the US, at almost half the cost. In many colonial cities like Puebla and Chihuahua and small, out-of-the-way beach towns like Troncones and Puerto Escondido, you won’t be far from good bed-and-breakfasts and inns charging as little as INR2,788 a night or less for two people. And the same goes for food, with the ridiculously cheap street side Taquerías that offer superb tacos for a paltry INR27. As for shopping, the street markets that dot most cities in Mexico are great places to scope out those killer bargains.

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I was booked in for a signature coffee therapy experience at the Oma Spa that is part of The Serai, Bandipur, which is a brand new resort that rolls over 19 acres of perfectly manicured gardens and lush meadows. This cozy resort is wedged in the heart of the 880 sq km Bandipur National Park, itself a part of Karnataka’s Nilgiri Biosphere Reserve, which includes the Nagarhole National Park, the Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary and the Mukurthi National Park.

Oma, meaning ‘life giver’ in Sanskrit, is a very unique spa based on the principles of holistic, natural, back-to-the-earth wellness and beautification. Housed a few metres away from the main resort area, the calming spa is a standalone structure made to resemble a wooden log cabin, done up in soothing earth tones with plenty of natural elements like driftwood and cane used in its interior décor.

While I was being led to my therapy room by my Manipuri masseuse Mary, she explained to me that my three part Oma Signature Therapy was to be a three-and-a-half hour long journey into the therapeutic world of caffeine. Apparently, the wonder substance operates in three ways when applied to the skin—it not only is an antioxidant and a diuretic but is also a vasoconstrictor [it narrows blood vessels] that helps in eye treatment for reducing puffiness and dark circles as well as tightening the skin around the eyes.

And so, channelling my inner hedonist, I began my pampering session with the 90-minute Oma Signature Massage [INR 3,500]. For this therapy, Mary employed a combination of long strokes and acupressure techniques, using nourishing oils blended with aromatic coffee extracts, that for once had me in a trance with its mildly cappuccino-like fragrance. As all my tense musculature began to submit to Mary’s healing touch and I could feel the stresses of my urban existence melt away into oblivion. Time also seemed to take a vacation of its own as I slept through the last half hour of the massage only to be woken by Mary’s gentle clanking of bamboo sticks to indicate the end of part one of my therapy and the onset of part two.

This second instalment was an hour long Oma Signature Body Scrub [INR 2,200] in which my skin was polished using ground coffee beans that are grown on the resort’s estate. The brisk scrubbing, I was told, has an exfoliating effect, reducing cellulite [not that I had any!] and stimulating the lymphatic system. While I may not know much about all the above properties, one thing was sure: the exotic scrub did leave my skin glowing, with every pore exuding that warm scent of coffee I was beginning to like!

For the grand finale of my treatment, I was told to shave off my stubble as Mary prepared for my 60-minute Oma Signature Facial [INR 2,800]. Once again, the wonder bean coffee was basking in all its glory as my face was pampered and slathered with copious amounts of lotions and potions containing coffee extracts. Concentrating on my eyes, Mary made sure the puffiness was gone by the time she was done with me, while the fine lines around my mouth were bestowed with her attention as she pummelled them into submission. Assured that they would fade away after regular use of the coffee lotion, I was packed off with my own stash of cosmetics and unguents to take back home.

P.S. It’s been three months since my trip to Bandipur and my face has never looked so a-glow and nourished, thanks to all the coffee that gets slapped onto it every day… and the occasional cuppa that goes in as well!

This was first published in the June 2013 issue of  Complete Wellbeing.

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I was in Abu Dhabi to investigate first hand a bizarre rumour I had heard from a fellow foodie. According to her, the capital of the United Arab Emirates was in the throes of a revolution—an organic food revolution no less! My nosing around resulted in my first pit stop of that day, the Abu Dhabi Organic Farms in the outskirts of Abu Dhabi. Slap bang in the middle of the desert, this farm is an oasis, where everything from the juiciest of tomatoes and grapes to free-range chickens and herbaceous goodies like coriander and parsley are grown and nurtured with oodles of TLC thrown in for good measure. Set up a few years ago in line with the directives of Sheikh Khalifa Bin Zayed Al Nahyan, the President of the United Arab Emirates, this organic farm was established as the first and only organic farm in the UAE.

The farm’s Operations Manager Suraj Shreshta, who is originally from Nepal, explained the organic philosophy of the place, which is to create a holistic production management system that avoids use of synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, plant growth regulators and genetically modified organisms. Their aim, he said, was to minimise pollution of air, soil and water, while at the same time optimising the health and productivity of interdependent communities of plants, animals and people.

Feeling all warm and fuzzy with all that ‘feel good’ talk of sustainability and giving back to the environment, I decided to see for myself if the denizens of this city of steel actually paid any attention to the organic way of life. And what better place than an organic produce retailer? The Mazaraa outlet in Abu Dhabi’s Al Mushrif area is a treasure trove of all things that have cute little tags certifying them as ‘carbon-neutral’ or ‘free range’. This organic food retailer stocks fruits, vegetables and dairy products that are locally grown and sourced. But the zinger for me at the end of my visit was that most of the organic products available at Mazaraa were priced at an affordable value—something that is not very common in the world of ethically produced food. This, I was told, was due to the outlet’s endeavours to reduce the carbon footprint, by reducing the waste [and cost!] caused by logistics of importing and then storing the agricultural products from abroad. No great surprise then, when they claim to run out of supply by 6pm every evening, as shoppers descend on the place in droves to fortify themselves and their families with the healthy stuff.

Another such haven for organic food is the Organic Foods and Café, located in the glitzy Masdar City, a brand new satellite city of Abu Dhabi. Gluten-free bread, cakes, muffins, milkshakes made from soy milk and shots of wheat grass juice—one can get them all here under one healthy roof. And while one’s at it, one may as well throw in a few organic skincare and household cleaning products available here, into the shopping basket.

Excruciatingly famished, I headed back to my hotel The Park Hyatt Abu Dhabi Hotel and Villas on Saadiyat Island, which itself whole-heartedly supports Abu Dhabi’s latest love affair with organic food. My hunger pangs would have to wait for a while to get placated, I was told. The hotel had organised an organic cookery class for me and my tutor was going to be The Park Bar & Grill restaurant’s Chef de Cuisine, Maik Lilienthal. I was to learn the art of rustling up the perfect organic Lobster and Tuna Carpaccio using local seafood and vegetables and herbs from the Abu Dhabi Organic Farms I had visited earlier that day. Chef Maik also let me in on a little secret. The dish I was to make would also serve as my appetiser course for the special three-course sustainable dinner I was later to indulge in at the twin-levelled restaurant.

But dismissing any thoughts about dinner, I got down to observing the technique of blanching the perfect lobster. This was followed by searing a loin of coriander-rubbed tuna fillet for all of one minute and dicing—or to use the French culinary term ‘burnoise’—a tomato and a cucumber. To finish off the dish, Chef Maik deftly sliced the lobster and tuna into minuscule, paper-thin slivers, which he then arranged on a square glass platter, spooning over them the tomato, cucumber, fresh coriander and cress leaves along with a dressing of rice vinegar and olive oil that was jazzed up with salt and pepper.

Dinner that evening was an organic trio of dishes that included the aforementioned Lobster and Tuna Carpaccio, a Lamb Rump with Mashed Potato and Mushrooms for mains, and a ‘gimme-more’ tasty Arabic dessert called Halawa Bil Jebin made up of semolina rolls, strawberry and rose water salsa dressed with—what else—but organic honey! Every bite of that meal was filled with the goodness of nature. Unforgettable.

Wanting to give a fitting end to my tryst with Abu Dhabi and its organic bounty, the next day I sauntered down to the original organic repository of the city—the Spice Souk at the Central Market. Having traded in spices and other food products for hundreds of years, during an age when the word ‘organic’ was not a fancy term, but just a natural way of life, the souk was filled with goodies a foodie like me couldn’t get enough of. Exotic Arabic spices like the lemony sumac, za’atar and the all-purpose Middle Eastern spice mix called baharat jostled for space with other familiar ones like cardamom and cinnamon quills, as treats like local camel milk ice-cream and the rose water soaked baklava tempted me. But what I couldn’t resist was a glass of steaming hibiscus or karkade tea, whose tart, yet refreshingly natural taste dances on my tongue to this very day. Yes, that’s the beauty of going organic… and Abu Dhabi of all places taught me that!

This was first published in the May 2013 issue of Complete Wellbeing.

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