Get a taste of my latest book about travelling in India

Recently, I published a book, “THE HITLER LOCK & OTHER TALES OF INDIA”, which is about some of my experiences of frequent visits to India over a period of thirty years. It consists of an introductory prologue and 101 short pieces of prose. To get some idea about what the book contains, here is one of them.

“IMPROPERLY DRESSED

In August 2008, we spent a few days at a beachside hotel just north of the city of Calicut (Kozhikode) in Kerala. Our accommodation was in the village of Kappad, where it is said that the Portuguese Vasco da Gama might have first set foot on Indian soil in 1498. Whether he did or did not, we had a good holiday in the area despite the occasional monsoon downpours.

One afternoon, while we were being driven through the countryside near Calicut, we spotted an isolated Hindu temple in the middle of a wooded area. It was surrounded by a fence and looked interesting from the car. We stopped, and found an open gate through which we entered the temple compound. The place was deserted – there was not a soul to be seen. Out of respect for Hindu traditions, we removed our footwear before wandering around. I took photographs of what was clearly quite an old temple.

We were on the point of leaving this holy place when we spotted a pandit entering. He walked towards us, not looking too pleased to see us. Speaking in Hindi or English – I cannot remember which – he said that I was not properly dressed to be in his temple. We apologised, and then he asked me to remove my shirt. I did as he requested, hoping that this would improve his mood. After I had taken off my shirt, he asked me to remove my trousers. To be charitable to him, I guess he would rather have had me wearing a lunghi or a dhoti instead of trousers. When he asked me to take off my trousers, we decided to leave the temple compound speedily.

Had I done as he had asked and put on traditional clothing of Kerala, the priest might have felt obliged to make us feel welcome in his temple. But it is likely that he knew full well that a westerner like me was unlikely to do what he wanted, and instead would leave his compound. His actions were a subtle way of getting us to leave without needing to sound impolite or unwelcoming.”

And here is another excerpt:

“DIPLOMATIC AMNESIA

Almost immediately after I first arrived in India (in late December 1993), and a few days before our Hindu wedding ceremony, my father-in-law recommended that I visit his tailor – Mr Krishnan – to get measured up for some new suits. One of these was to be a white ‘Prince Suit’, and the other two were western style formal suits in greyish materials. The Prince Suit, a traditional Indian design with a high neck collar, was to be worn at our wedding reception after the marriage ceremony. The other garments would be useful for the many formal occasions, which my father-in-law anticipated both in India and England. He loved such occasions.

When he worked in an upmarket tailoring shop in Bangalore’s Brigade Road, Mr Krishnan had made suits for my father-in-law. When I met him, he was semi-retired and worked from his home in a small, old-fashioned house on a short lane in a hollow several feet beneath the nearby busy Queen’s Road. He was a short, elderly gentleman – always very dignified and polite. He measured me up for the suits in his front room, which served as part of his workshop. After a couple of visits to try the suits whilst they were still being worked on, I picked up the finished garments. Each of the suits fitted perfectly – ‘precision-fit’ you could say quite truthfully. Despite being so accurately made, they were not in the least bit uncomfortable. Everybody admired them. I could understand why I had been sent to Mr Krishnan.

Our next trip to India was made 20 months later when our recently born daughter had had sufficient vaccinations to allow her to travel safely. During the interval between these two holidays, my dimensions had changed significantly because of my good appetite and happy marriage. Notably, my girth had increased greatly. Sadly, the suits that Mr Krishnan had so carefully crafted no longer fitted me. We returned to see Mr Krishnan, who told us that in anticipation of my dimensions changing, he had left extra cloth within the garments for adjusting them. Without comment, he took my new measurements, and noted them down in a book. My wife, who had accompanied me, said to the tailor, mischievously:

“Just out of curiosity, Mr Krishnan, would you be able to look up Adam’s previous measurements to see how much he has changed.”

He put down his pencil, sighed, and said:

“I am very sorry, Madame, but I have unfortunately lost them.”

Mr Krishnan was not only a wonderful tailor, but also a perfect diplomat.”

If you enjoyed these, and want to read more, then please obtain a copy of my book, which is available in paperback and Kindle from Amazon sites such as

[For those who live in India, the paperback can be ordered here:

https://store.pothi.com/book/adam-yamey-hitler-lock-and-other-tales-india/]

A rook with a book in a Cornish town

THE AUTHOR DAPHNE du Maurier (1907-1989) was born near London’s Regents Park, but spent much of her childhood in Hampstead. In the summer, she travelled with her family for holidays in Cornwall. They also lived there during WW1. In 1926, the family bought the still extant Ferryside, a house next to the ferry landing at Bodinnick. The eye-catching blue and white house can be seen across the River Fowey from many points in Fowey. I believe that one of her descendants still owns, and lives in, the house.

In the centre of Fowey, on the waterfront, there is a modern sculpture of a bird holding a book with one of its claws. Called “The Rook with a Book”, it was created by the Thrussels, a father and son team of sculptors based in Bodmin Moor at a point near to the source of the River Fowey. The sculpture was unveiled in 2018 by Daphne’s son Christian. The book being held by the rook bears the title of one of Daphne’s short stories – “The Birds”, published in 1952. The story was inspired by seeing a flock of gulls attacking a farmer working on a field. It was set in Cornwall soon after WW2. What makes this short story particularly significant is that it inspired Alfred Hitchcock to create his horror film “The Birds”, which was first released in March 1963.

DISCOVER THE EXCITING RANGE OF TOPICS IN MY NEW BOOK ABOUT MY TRAVELS IN INDIA DURING THE LAST 30 YEARS

Here is a list of the chapters in Adam Yamey’s anthology of his often entertaining travel experiences in India. The book is both for those who know India and for those who do not.

The book and/or Kindle can be bought by clicking on the picture below.

LIST OF CHAPTERS

Introduction … page 9

Prologue: A book from India … 12

Saved by a nosebleed … 14

You married him? … 16

It began with a bang … 18

Shantiniketan … 20

. Maria and Job … 23

Please use the meter … 27

Mixed couples … 29

Coracles … 31

West End Hotel … 35

Less than one degree … 39

Puncher …42

Dining with the dead … 48

A generous gratuity … 50

Miner’s sauce … 52

From Kutch to Norway … 54

Looking so lovable … 56

Beneath the banyan trees … 58

Meeting Khushwant Singh … 61

A palace by the sea … 64

Monkey business … 67

Chicken 65 … 70

Diplomatic amnesia … 72

Meeting the Mahatma … 74

Feeding the cows … 79

Montecatini Terme … 83

Hummus in Hampi … 86

Clothing can be critical … 89

Traditional but trendy … 94

Facial prejudice … 96

Paradise for bookworms … 99

Wrapped up … 105

The personal touch … 108

He worked with Le Corbusier … 111

My Ferrari … 115

From Gandhi to Hitler … 117

An unusual invitation … 121

Looking for literature … 123

Of dargahs and dyeing … 127

Before my time … 130

Improperly dressed … 132

Dining at Limra … 135

Hitler on the shelf … 139

Beefsteak not biryani … 144

Independence Day … 146

Large snakes … 148

One wife four husbands … 150

One day it might be you … 153

Waterfalls and water closets … 155

Cunning old fox … 158

Kutchi beer … 161

Albanians in India … 163

Bodies in the dark … 167

Don’t let it go viral … 169

Clubbing …171

Lopchu … 175

Threads of faith … 179

Nizam’s … 184

Teapots and politics … 187

A refreshing breeze … 190

Buried not burned … 193

Gandhi’s spectacles … 197

Tea at Lothal … 201

They came from Persia … 207

Don’t take the train … 211

Defying inflation … 215

In your face … 217

Cops and crocs … 219

A curious hotel … 222

Denmark by the sea … 225

No bill food is free … 231

Espresso in Diu … 234

Maurice and Bob … 237

An Indian welcome … 242

The pandit’s wife … 244

Royal encounter … 247

Unlocking a secret … 253

Curious coffee … 255

Do they speak Hindi in Russia? … 257

Dashiki … 260

Field of cars … 263

I love Stalin … 267

Jeremy Bentham and Calcutta …269

India’s first mosque … 273

Eggs excepted … 278

Saving their necks … 280

Reclining on a rug … 283

Bollywood in Bangalore … 285

A coffee house … 289

Bargaining in Mount Abu … 291

Not long in Nepal … 295

An unexpected sight … 299

Four bangles … 303

On the safe side … 306

PHD … 308

In touch with history … 311

James and Adeline … 316

Ladies only … 318

Lost property … 320

Plants from paper … 323

A soaking in Calcutta … 325

Mapusa market … 331

Mud sweeter than honey: Albania under Enver Hoxha

IN MAY 1984, I visited Albania, which was then still under the rule of its Stalinist dictator Enver Hoxha (1908-1985). The year before, I had spent a fortnight in Bulgaria. My impression was that Bulgaria was much less vibrant than Albania. In Albania, which had to be visited in an organised group tour, we were treated well, shown a great deal, and were fed well. I knew that by 1984, Albania was far more sealed off from the rest of the world than North Korea is today. Several things were curious about our visit. First, we were not allowed to converse with any Albanians apart from our three official guides or ‘minders’, and other Albanians were unable to converse with, or even approach, us. Secondly, we were watched carefully, even followed by plainclothes agents. Thirdly, and most strangely, whenever we ate a meal, we were kept out of sight of Albanian onlookers. Either we dined in a private room, or our tables were surrounded by curtains or screens, which separated us from other diners and staff in hotels or restaurants.

Our Albanian hosts successfully showed us some of their country’s beautiful towns, countryside, and other attractions. Their aim was to show us westerners what an ideal country Enver Hoxha and his regime had created. And to some extent, I was fooled by what I saw. Many years later, I visited the country (in 2016), and met people who told me that what I had seen was carefully stage managed – a sort of Potemkin village on a grand scale. One person told me that three days before visitors (foreign or state officials) visited the village to which he had been exiled, the town would be cleaned up, the usually empty shops would be stocked, and other things would be arranged to give the place the appearance of prosperity. And as soon as the visitors had passed through, everything would be returned to its normal depressing condition.

After returning from my second trip to Albania, I read a biography of Enver Hoxha written by Blendi Fevziu, and published in 2016. In it, I discovered something that really shocked me. He wrote that by 1984, when I was being wined and dined royally by our Albanian hosts, most Albanians were starving because of a man-made famine that had begun a couple of years earlier. It was no wonder that whenever we ate, we and our food was kept out of sight of all but the most trusted waiters and staff.  

Even when I was in Albania in 1984, I was aware that Hoxha’s regime, like many others run by dictators, was home to prison camps for those who were alleged to have upset the dictator and his paranoid security services. As Margo Rejmer shows in her excellent book “Mud Sweeter Than Honey”, it did not take much to land up in one of Hoxha’s hellish prison camps, and many people suffered this fate.

Rejmer interviewed many people who had lived during Hoxha’s long reign. She successfully demonstrated that every Albanian from the humblest peasant to the highest state official lived in a constant state of fear. Up to one in three people were employed as informers for Hoxha’s secret police – the Sigurimi. It was even dangerous to express one’s thoughts to close members of one’s family. The paranoid dictator ruled, as did Stalin, by endlessly imprisoning or killing anyone that could even slightly be considered a threat to him. Rejmer’s book illustrates this very well and also describes the unbelievable cruelty that prisoners had to suffer in the camps, where they were made to do unpleasant unpaid work, especially in mines.

I am very glad that Rejmer’s book had not yet been written in 1984, because had I read it then, I am certain I would never have set foot in Albania. It is a highly readable, compelling book about the horrific era during which most Albanians had to suffer. My only criticism of it is that she tends to concentrate on people who suffered badly under the regime. However, I suppose it was difficult for her to find anyone who honestly thought that Hoxha had created the paradise, the existence of which our tour guides hoped to persuade us in 1984.

PS My memories of the 1984 visit to Albania are recorded in my book “Albania on My Mind” (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Albania-My-Mind-Adam-Yamey/dp/1291111476/)

Introducing my NEW BOOK ABOUT MY TRAVELS IN INDIA

SOME SOUVENIRS FROM MY VISITS TO INDIA DURING THE PAST 30 YEARS

 —  A new book with a curious title  —

True love drew me to India. Since my first trip there in late 1993, I have visited the country more than fifty times.

After I married Lopa in London in October 1993, we travelled to her native land, India, a few weeks later. From the moment I first landed on Indian soil, my eyes opened wide with amazement, and ever since then, India has filled me with a delightful sense of wonder. 

You might be curious about the book’s title. This relates to a chance one-off sighting (in the 1990s) of a padlock made by an Indian company with the same name as that of Germany’s former Führer. From that day onward, whenever I have been in India and seen a shop or market stall selling locks, I have always looked to see whether any of this company’s locks are on sale.

To discover some of the many things that endear me to India and whether I ever managed to find one of these curiously named locks, you need to read my new book. Illustrated with my photographs, it contains over one hundred short prose vignettes, which can be enjoyed by both those who are familiar with the country and those who are not.

Paperback: https://www.amazon.co.uk/HITLER-LOCK-OTHER-TALES-INDIA/dp/B0CFM5JNX5/

Kindle: https://www.amazon.co.uk/HITLER-LOCK-OTHER-TALES-INDIA-ebook/dp/B0CG3DX1LP/

Impressions of India in preparation

At the moment, I am preoccupied with carrying out the final editing of my latest book, which I have described briefly below. When I publish it, which I hope will be soon, I will post more about it here in my blog and elsewhere.

A lock made by Hitler; Bollywood encounters; jackals on the golf course; teamakers and politicians; banyans and monkeys; Gandhi’s optician; coracles and crocodiles; and Denmark in India: these are just a few of the topics covered in Adam Yamey’s collection of 101 intriguing vignettes of life in India. This book with illustrations is the author’s love letter to India, a country he has been visiting frequently for almost 30 years.

When Kensington was a country town

ANYONE FAMILIAR WITH London will know that except for some parkland, the city is a built-up urban environment all the way west from Marble Arch to Acton and further beyond. This is also the case from Hyde Park Corner to Heathrow Airport. However, this has not always been the situation.

When John Rocque (1709-1762) drew his detailed, accurate maps of London in the 1740s, Paddington was a small village separated by open countryside from what was then London. In those days, Kensington was a village reached from London by a country road flanked on its northern edge by Hyde Park. And from Kensington to Hammersmith would have been a ride along a road running between a series of agricultural fields and orchards. And to the north of Hammesrsmith, Shepherds Bush was an open space around which there were only a few well-separated houses. And as for Notting Hill Gate, Rocque did not even bother to name this road junction in the middle of the countryside.

By 1826/27, when  C & J Greenwood published their detailed map of London, Earls Court was still a country hamlet; Kensington a small town; and there was barely any development around what is now Notting Hill Gate. However, by 1826 Paddington was beginning to grow and was no longer separated from Marylebone by open countryside. Additionally, the northern edge of the eastern end of Bayswater Road was losing its rural nature and being built upon.

In brief, as the 19th century progressed, London spread west. As it did so, urban development covered what had been open countryside and places that had been separated from London began to become part of it. Places like Kensington, Earls Court, Shepherds Bush, Hammersmith, and places further west were no longer separated by open countryside. Instead, they became engulfed by the expanding metropolis.

My book “BEYOND MARYLEBONE AND MAYFAIR: EXPLORING WEST LONDON” describes in detail how the villages and towns to the west of Park Lane and what is known as ‘The West End’ became engulfed by London’s westward growth. It reveals the history of these places; what they are like today; and what remains of their existence before they became joined to London, as it spread from Mayfair and Marylebone to Heathrow and beyond.

BEYOND MARYLEBONE AND MAYFAIR: EXPLORING WEST LONDON

By Adam Yamey

is available as an illustrated paperback and Kindle from Amazon:

Hitler and India

MANY BOOKSHOPS IN INDIA carry copies of “Mein Kampf” by Adolf Hitler, translated into English. They are not hidden away from view but are displayed openly in bookshelves alongside books with less offensive texts. The books are not old and tatty, but look brand new, suggesting that they are bought frequently and replaced by new stock. Why this book should still be on the shelves in India so many decades after it was first published has always puzzled me. So, when I saw a book “Hitler and India” published by the historian Vaibhav Purandare in 2021, I bought a copy. I was hoping that it might help me understand the prevalence of “Mein Kampf” in Indian bookshops.

Purandare’s book is an easy read and quite interesting. He points out very effectively that Hitler had no love for Indians. Furthermore, he felt that it was right that the British rather the Indians than should rule India. And, in his opinion, he felt that should Germany ever rule India, the Indians would yearn for the return of what he considered to be the too lenient rule of the British. Hitler wrote that: “I would, despite everything, still far rather see India under English than under some other rule …”
Hitler had no desire to support those fighting for the freedom of India because, believe it or not, prior to WW2 he hoped that Britain and Germany might eventually become allies. Purandare also details how Indians in Germany suffered at the hands of the Nazis and their security forces. It was only after Britain and the Soviet Union became enemies of Germany that he entertained the idea of providing limited assistance to those, like Subhas Chandra Bose, who were fighting to free India from the British. Even then, the assistance he authorised was very limited. He did ship Bose out to Japan, but there was little more to his help than that. It must be remembered that he only did this as a way to undermine the British war effort; he did not believe that an independent India was either feasible or desirable. All of the foregoing is well described in the book.

Unfortunately, what the book failed to do is what I hoped when I purchased it. It brings me no closer to understanding why “Mein Kampf” appears in so many Indian bookshops, and evidently sells. What Purandare does make clear is that Hitler’s book contains passages that are insulting to Indians. As for its appeal to Indian bookshop browsers, his book has not brought me any closer to understanding it.

Remembering an old friend in London’s Marylebone

MY FRIEND MICHAEL Jacobs (1952-2014) studied history of art at A Level (university entrance examinations) and then later at university. Later, he became a prolific author. When we were in our late teens, we used to visit Hampstead’s second-hand bookshops together. A few days ago (early September 2022), I was walking along Marylebone’s New Cavendish Street when I spotted something that reminded me of one of our bookshop visits in the late 1960s.

There is a building on the northeast corner of New Cavendish Street and Wimpole Street, which caught my eye. As I passed it, I spotted a small plaque giving the architect’s details. It reads: “BANISTER FLETCHER & SONS ARCHITECTS AD 1912” Sir Banister Flight Fletcher (1866-1953) trained at London’s Kings College, University College, the Royal College of Art, the Architectural Association, and Paris’s École des Beaux-Arts. In 1889, he became a partner in the architectural firm founded by his father: Banister Fletcher & Sons. In addition to designing buildings, Banister Fletcher (and his father) wrote a book of great importance.

The book, “A History of Architecture on the Comparative Method”, which was first published in 1896, was republished several times during the 20th century. It was the standard reference work in English on the history of architecture.

Seeing the name Banister Fletcher on the building in Marylebone reminded me of an afternoon in Hampstead during the late 1960s. We were rummaging around the somewhat disorderly collection of books in Francis Norman’s bookshop in Perrins Lane when Michael discovered a copy of Banister Fletcher’s history of architecture, a book that was well-suited for the bookshelf of a student of the history of art. Michael bought it at an extremely reasonable price.

Until I spotted the building on New Cavendish, I had always associated the name Banister Fletcher with that afternoon with Michael in Hampstead. The building I saw is the first example of a structure that I have been able to associate with the author of the history purchased by my late friend.

A fortnight in Yugoslavia in the 1950s

I FOUND A SHELF of rather tatty looking second-hand books for sale outside an antique shop in Great Dunmow (Essex). Each was being sold for 50 pence. Among them, I picked up a copy of a slender volume by Christopher Sidgwick with the title “A Fortnight in Yugoslavia”. Having visited the former Yugoslavia numerous times between 1973 and 1990, I was curious to see what was written about it when the guidebook was published in July 1955. This was only about 7 years after the country detached itself from Soviet Russian domination. In relation to this, the author wrote:

“Since the war ended, the Yugoslavs have I think been acting in perfect character. They are not a people … to be impressed by other people’s size. The war brought them victory on the side of Russia … and they set out with immense courage to re-form their way of living on copybook communist lines. But before long, of course, they found that the printed dogma of Marx did not turn out at all as they were led to expect: and instead of cooking the argument, as other communists have frequently done … their honest Yugoslav common sense came conveniently to hand: when Tito, in Moscow, realised that he was now to toe the line as a satellite country, to live in virtual starvation, while the country’s raw materials were sent off to Russia … he said to Stalin: ‘Rubbish! In that case, we might as well still be under the Habsburgs!’”

Under Tito’s leadership, Yugoslavia went its own distinct way. In his text, Sidgwick asked:

“Is the country a dictatorship? In the sense that it is nothing like Hitlerite Germany, nihilist at root, the answer is ‘no’. In the sense that it is a one-party country, with the state controlling the police, the radio, the press, and education, the answer must of course be ‘yes’.”

Further on, he added:

“… it is clear that broader and broader opinion, differing from the party line, is being permitted and even encouraged.”

And this was as early as 1955. By the time I began visiting Yugoslavia, liberal and alternative voices were becoming quite prevalent.

Although Sidgwick did not discourage the individual traveller, he believed that there was much to be said in favour of organised group travel. Visas were then required, and could be obtained for 11 shillings (55 p) at the Yugoslav Consular Department in Kensington (48 Phillimore Gardens). In 1955, £1 sterling would buy you about 840 Yugoslav dinars, and on entering the country, “…any note exceeding 100 dinars in value is liable to be confiscated from you, so don’t buy higher-value notes even at a good rate of exchange: it’s black money.”

Amongst things you were advised to pack in 1955 were: sunglasses; toilet soap (“cost up to 7/6 (37.5p) a tablet”); half a pound of tea; ear-plugs (“invaluable while travelling or while waiting for the dance-band to close down for the night”); pipe tobacco; an inflatable cushion; and a universal bath plug.

Regarding food in Yugoslavia, Sidgwick mentioned that pancakes were good, and:

“… they have no disgusting dishes – frog, snails, and so on – and local national dishes are always worth trying. Ražniči is veal on toothpicks. Ćevapčići is meat and little mince rissoles. Djuvec is a Serbian edition of Irish stew, highly seasoned with paprikas.”

Well, I have eaten frog in Yugoslavia and I had friends who harvested snails for gastronomic reasons. Sidgwick added:

“Meal-service is almost always slow by our standards, largely, I think because Yugoslavs themselves are in the habit of taking their time over food, enjoying it as a social occasion. In busy restaurants it is unwise to expect to get through dinner in less than ninety minutes.”

I have always eaten well in Yugoslavia, and with my many Yugoslav friends every meal was a joyous social occasion.

The guidebook dedicates most of its travel advice to Croatia and the Dalmatian coast (pages 32 to 51). The rest of the country was described between pages 51 and 62. In the short section on Serbia (pages 58 to 60), Sidgwick wrote:

“To describe Serbia in a page or two is like describing London on a cigarette card: insulting to the inhabitants”

He did it to keep the book short, and I suspect, because in the 1950s few British travellers to Yugoslavia ventured much further inland than the coastal regions.

Who was Christopher Sidgwick? He lived from 1915 until 1978.  He wrote several guidebooks to places such as Germany and Greece. His “German Journey” was published in 1936 and his guide to Greece in 1974. “German Journey” was one of several books written by British writers who visited Nazi Germany to find out about Hitler’s regime and the effect it was having on the country. Unlike others, who judged the country mainly by what had been shown them in Berlin and reported favourably on the regime, Sidgwick wanted to avoid “… ‘thinking that what is seen in the capital […] is representative of that country’” (quoted from “Britain and the Weimar Republic” by Colin Storer). This is probably why he reported on a visit to Dachau’s concentration camp before WW2.

Sidgwick also wrote “Manhunt in Dalmatia”, published in 1959. Amongst his many other books, he wrote “Whirlpools on the Danube”, which was published by in 1937. This was reviewed in the journal of the Royal Institute of International Affairs by no less a historian than Carlile Aylmer Macartney (1895-1978), a specialist in the history and politics of Central Europe. I guess from this that Sidgwick must have been a significant traveller and observer in his time.  

Finally, although I paid only 50 pence (in Great Dunmow) for this book about a country that exists no longer, its cheapest price on bookfinder.com is 20 times as much. My own recollections of the country and its people are published in my book “Scrabble with Slivovitz”, which is available from lulu.com, bookdepository.com, and Amazon (https://www.amazon.co.uk/Scrabble-Slivovitz-Once-upon-Yugoslavia/dp/1291457593).