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Navdanya is a farm, a place of knowledge, of learning and  experience the kind you acquire through working with other people and listening to their experiences. I decided to have a few conversations with people I learned a lot from when I was there.

If you want to know more about Navdanya there is this great blog http://francescamoore.wordpress.com/2012/12/25/navdanya-2/ and obviously the Navdanya website http://www.navdanya.org/home where you can get it all.

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Sorry for the chaos of images, I’m trying to work out how to add a slideshow to my post through my WordPress app on my phone.

Not very successful, hey?

Well, enjoy the images of Jodhpur’s Fort in the meantime. More to follow.

 

Delhi seems to be a city of rooftops, ladders and stairs, washing lines and unfinished stuff. To be honest this isn’t a good representation of Delhi and it’s chaos, maybe just a bit of rest for my senses first of all.

 

These are some pictures of my travels North from Mumbai to Delhi. There are a lot of hours (precisely twenty-eight) in that trip and a lot of landscape goes by. While I was looking out of the window I started thinking about light. In India there is a lot of this as well.  But sometimes it is necessary to choose which light one is more interested the outside or the inside light.

What is the important subject? I will be a bit lazy today and leave that choice to you.

 

copyright @ Lorenza Ippolito

© Lorenza Ippolito

I’ve just arrived in Mumbai and still a bit jet-lagged, trying to figure out where the pavement is and where the street.

These are my first impressions who knows what will come. Hope I’ll be able to update the blog soon as the internet connection is a bit patchy.

When I went to Italy this October just before my imminent trip to India, my dad pulled out of his bag-from-the-past an object that really surprised me, just when I was starting to think my parents could no longer surprise me.

After a customary huge meal, my dad put on the table a bizarre skull-cap with sown on floral decorations, a baffling pattern describable as a blooming Alpine-Judaic mixture. Was this the time for big family revelations? Were we the only remaining survivors of forgotten Alpine Hebrew descendants?

While my fantasies evidently roamed freely in my head, my dad gives me a brief, but truly touching explanation.

He says with a childlike smile “I want you to have this for your trip to India. My mother used to  put it on my head when we walked the Alps.”

My Grandmother’s family relocated in South Tyrol after the war. Her family was exiled from their native Rijeka in the Istrian Peninsula. My Grandmother loved the Alps, although a bit bitter about the exiled bit, my dad a bit less.

And so I shall take it with me to India.