Its crowded, its touristy, its unabashed – its Camden town today. For Travel file number we are taking the Northern line and heading where the crowds are going this weekend – to the unique, alive and buzzing market of London – a hots pot both for tourists and locals – the Camden.Alternative culture,  fashion, arts and crafts, music, canal, food, vintage clothing are some of the words that will be thrown into any description of Camden. its eclectic, its eccentric, its touristic, its authentic – its all of this and more but any word used for Camden must be intensified, amplified, multiplied many times over to accurately describe the charms and exhilaration of this place. In 1973 Camden Town’s markets opened for business. But now 10 million people visit Camden every year and it is a thriving center of business with a kicking music scene.As you get out of the tube you will be joined by hundreds that will ingle in the thousands that walk on the pavements,  or through the big halls and into the little alleyways navigating their way through innumerable food and merchandise stalls exploring the six markets of Camden. Its bustling with people, lined with unending row of stalls offering foods from around the world and stuff that ranges from trashy to trendy clothes, junk jewellery, tattoo booths, music CDs, quirky art stuff Although trashed as touristic by some fashion snobs, Camden is essentially, positively London and a must take stop on your first London trip. I would put it higher over picture perfect Central London for its true London feel.

Here is a peek into the second hand book market on South bank by the river Thames under the arches of Waterloo bridge. This doesn’t make it to the must see list of London and is therefore a great secret place for wonderful view, literature and a great afternoon. Leave a comment with your feedback on this.  

Fresh donuts are better than the stale ones sitting on super market shelves or the coffee shop refrigerators. I love my doughnuts fresh and hot like the ones sold by a wonderful doughnut magician on Surrey Street. If you are ever visiting the area, do stop by and take a pound worth of joy with you and to see for yourself, how it is really done. Enjoy the video!

God’s random sketches on the sky  View from my hotel balcony as I woke up to a clear sky and bright sun light. The charge for night stay Euro 47 at Iraklion Hotel. Local Delicatessen in the neighbourhood The cathedral, the square and the lovely pigeons Abandoned Alleyway No breakfast at 9 in the morning. So, refreshing to be back in the place where people love their sleep. Greek breakfast: Spinach pie – Euro 2/- with a cup of Cappuccino Euro 1.5/- Over exposed: Hard to handle the bright sun light The old harbour looking onto the sea – Heraklion is blessed with some of the best beaches. Unfortunately we could not visit any because we had our heart set on Santorini A quick shot of the ducks sun bathing as we make our way to the ferry

View of Tower Bridge from London Bridge View of Tower Bridge from the other side Tower Bridge Tower Bridge fixation – Olympic rings View of London Bridge St. Paul’s cathedral from London Bridge View from our favorite spot which lies between London Bridge & Tower Bridge

Writing a travelogue usually fills me with uneasy feeling mixed with nostalgia, desire to go back or displeasure in returning home. But, as I right the travelogue for Amritsar I have a smile on that runs from ear to ear. The reason is, well, I don’t like going there because I am made to go there too often, and the purpose of travel is usuaully family and not vacation so I know I will return time and again to this city which is rightly regarded as the center of Sikh world and also a sort of center of my family world. Every third shop in Amritsar is a restaurant/dhaba/halwai/tandoor/tikkiwaala or sells something edible. And they are all proudly “pure desi ghee” preparations. If you are travelling from Delhi, you will be please with the menu and the prices quoted but will be scared to see the portion size and thick butter floating along with sabzi and masala. They say, it is the last frontier of pure milk and pure ghee in India. I agree adding that if you throw a stone in Amritsar and it will fall in the big kadhaai full of rich creamy milk with boiled cardamom and other condiments sold for Rs. 20 a glass. Lassi and Kadhai dudh is the speciality of Amritsar, glass of which outsiders cannot even dare to lift. Special kulfi faluda, punjab famous Bharawan da dhaba, Gyani tea stall di special chai, beera chicken, kesar da dhaba, makhan fish, chajju da palak paneer…this city has more than what one stomach in one visit. But my favourite that I could accomodate each morning for breakfats was the special Amritsari Kulcha. Baked to such perfection, no matter where you order it, you would be forced to grant that no one can do tandoori stuff …

I wanted to go there to see what the other side looked like, for a peep through the gates, to confirm if they spoke the truth when they said the people looked like we do, to check if the grass looked the same on either sides, to see for myself if what lay beyond the boundary was not a land drastically different from ours. I wanted to go there to perceive the reason that caused all the madness through the ages, to cry for a moment for those who died in the name of religion turning the green of the rich field into red and the holy water of five rivers into blood. But I failed. I failed because they wanted me to masquerade my curiosity behind the veil of patriotism.I heard the Pakistani tunes first. It felt like a marriage party, a typical Indian (or Punjabi, if I may say) style wedding reception. It was my favorite Punjabi singer Abrar-ul-haq on the other side. I thought they were playing music so that people on both sides could have fun. I saw the sight of a flag on the other side, a big Pakistani flag held by the people on the stands across the border. I looked at them full of awe I saw some white caps and long beards. I thought for once we were having a cross border party. But then I heard the tunes of an Indian patriotic song with some school girls dancing in the center. I instantly got the joke which was a serious business at that point. The next to come was people shouting from the stands, and loud slogans which were orchestrated by someone running from point to point signaling the crowd to jeer, clap, shout, whistle and sing.It was all in good …

The following images are from the Dastakar fair held every spring in New Delhi. Check it out this spring if you are in the area.  

“Am I returning in the next two years?” The crystal answered “No!” “Will I return with him?” the crystal answered, “No!” Both of these answers left me bitter, worried and scared. I am not returning here in the next two years meant for me that I am not going to be travelling and not returning with him again meant the end of the world in another sense. It was 5th October 2008. Well, the bad news turned into even better news on January 7th, 2011 as I sat by the window covered in mist, the vistas of Delhi barely visible, I leaned on the pane and saw my two companions looking at me. We exchanged smiles and the thrill of what we had undertaken and what lay ahead – Our first all girls’ trip in India. If you are a girl, the idea of travelling alone on an overnight bus will scare you. But it was the discussion around this trip with my colleagues which made me realize that the idea baffled guys even more. Tones of advice some welcome some not so welcome, suggestions on alternative destinations, last minute glitches and changes in plan, invective outbursts of an angry Tibetan travel agent who told us “Shame on you never seen more bad people” and kept scaring us of the Karma which will bite our asses for last minute booking cancellations. The first night of travel from New Delhi to Dharamshala I was told by him would be “worst night of my life”. I was ready for the bus to topple in the extreme cold weather and fog of which our colleagues had warned us. We peacefully slept through the night and woke up to the call of “Kangra!, Kangra!”. The three chattering chickies who did not sleep a wink …