backtothebasics | On My Canvas

In Izmir (Turkey), a City Where The Sea Never Leaves You

things to do in izmir turkey people on the boulevard ocean sunlight (1)

Things To Do in Izmir, Turkey (If You Could Ever Leave the Seaside)

On Sunday, my first day in Izmir, I was awake at 8:45 am. I went to the toilet quickly, showered, and got ready. I scanned the receipts from Dubai to send to my travel insurance company (you can read the story in the linked piece). Everyone in the house, which meant my host Mohammed, his cat, and his friend, whom I hadn’t met, were still asleep.

Mohammed probably woke up at 10 but stayed in bed for another hour and eventually came to ask me if I would like Turkish coffee. I was scanning documents, which I continued to do after coffee. Over that big cup of delicious Turkish coffee, we talked. He said he would go to the market to get some things for breakfast. I offered to go too, but I think he felt it would be a waste of time. Before heading out, he took out a few tomatoes, olives, mushrooms, and a cucumber from the fridge. I told him I would chop the vegetables.

Mohamed went to the supermarket, and I continued to put together the insurance things. When he returned, I chopped the tomatoes and mushrooms, and he cooked them with eggs. He had also brought halloumi cheese, which he grilled. He heated the Turkish bread bibit in a sandwich press and made two big cups of tea, too.

Ninoskhevi Waterfall, Also Known as Gurgeniani Waterfall, in Lagodekhi National Park, Kakheti: a Wonder of Georgia

Ninoskhevi, also known as Gurgeniani, is a beautiful waterfall in the lush green forest of Lagodekhi National Park in the popular wine region of Kakheti. This one is about forty meters high and falls ferociously.

From Lagodekhi, I had hitchhiked to the trail starting point. I walked down to the main road. From there, I hitchhiked in a car, which dropped me at the beginning of the Ninoskhevi Waterfall Road. This driver was interested in knowing why I was alone, where my husband was, and how old I was. These are questions that always come from men who pick up women hitchhikers thinking there would be something more in it for them. I was bored and annoyed by the time I got out of the car.

Now I walked on the side road. It was seven kilometers to the waterfall. The sun was shining, and the ladies outside a market at the beginning of the street replied to my hello cheerfully. I was happy, walking briskly, often turning around to see if a car was coming by. After a while, I was picked up by a car that had four passengers. I squeezed myself in. The gentleman dropped his passengers one by one in the small villages on the way and brought me to the beginning of the waterfall. When he turned around his car, I understood that he had driven extra for my sake. I was thankful.

a lada car on the road in armenia seen while traveling in armenia

A Love Letter to Armenia

I want to write about Armenia right now. There is so much to say.

Did I see it enough? What did I feel? What colors do I remember?

I may have many notes from Armenia, but I have to speak from the heart. Sitting in this Sarajevo apartment, while the FIFA World Cup football matches play on the television that I have muted, with the cat having gone to her house, I mean I had to close the door and window on her, I am ready to write about Armenia.

Today was a lot of admin work: money transfer, phone factory reset, emails, and so many more things. I also went to the supermarket, but that was much later. First, I packed up from the first home, walked here, and checked in smoothly. I had thought I would meet a bulky or big guy, or someone my age with a family. Most probably an older, serious kind of person. Instead, I was shown the house by a young guy. Nihad is twenty-five. He is managing his father’s apartment, a father who is no more, sadly. He passed away last year from spine cancer. What a Siberian sniper’s bullet couldn’t do, cancer did. The cancer shifted from the spine to the brain, and after the surgery, when they thought he was getting better, the family lost him within two days.

By looking at the house, you can’t tell the religion of the family. Maybe someone more observant than me can. There are beautiful glass bowls and white lacy curtains, but they don’t tell that the owner is Muslim. Bosnian Muslims form the majority of the country’s population, and I am happy to have found a host amongst them.

Slowing Down in the Forgotten Mining Town of Tkibuli, Georgia

I can’t pronounce Tkibuli. I have practiced the word with ten Georgians, but I still have not got it right. Now you say it, please!

Tkibuli was a small village with a river running through it, many abandoned homes, and a theatre which I couldn’t see. The theatre is said to be a beautiful structure, but it was always closed, probably temporarily. I tried going in three times.

I had hitchhiked to Tkibuli from Nikortsminda, a town about which I have written in the linked post (coming soon). I had been traveling with a Russian traveler, Rasha, whom I had met through Couchsurfing. She had put out a hitchhiking trip to Racha mountains, looking for travelers to join her. I did, and we had arrived in Tkibuli after visiting the mountains. Tkibuli lies in the Imereti region, right at the foot of the Racha mountains.

I was slow in Tkibuli. I walked around, stared at the Tkibula river, found the world’s friendliest and best-priced supermarket, rattled my brains over why there were so many forgotten homes with their doors and windows stolen, cooked, and read the book, The Portrait of a Turkish Family by Irfan Olga.

When I researched a bit about Tkibuli, I found that it was an old mining town from the Soviet era whose population has now moved on. That explains the abandoned homes.

chindi himachal pradesh temple leopard devi goddess deodar and pine trees

Hanging out with villagers, Wandering Around Apple Farms, Climbing Into Pine Forests, and Drinking Wine under Starry Skies in Chindi, Himachal Pradesh

The government guesthouse in Chindi, Himachal Pradesh, was located on the brow of a hill. Below the guesthouse and further ahead and behind it, the village sprawled. We checked in at two pm. Our room was Set 1.

The PWD (Public Works Department) guesthouse caretakers hadn’t received a call from their superintendent regarding our booking. They thought there was no booking. All the staff, all men, were sitting on fixed wooden chairs that seemed to have been carved out of tree trunks right at their place under a giant Chinar tree.

trees of chindi pwd government guesthouse chindi himachal pradesh giant tree — The sycamores!

the author travel writer priyanka gupta posing with the backgroud of a train from chennai to howrah for the article what is backpacking feature

Everything I have Learned about Backpacking: My Backpacking Advice for Beginners

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In 2016, I took out my old grey and rusted brown backpack, Rusty, from the cupboard where it had been for the last three years. I was traveling to Chile to teach English as part of a volunteer program. As I was going for at least six months, I packed Rusty, a small wheeled suitcase, a laptop bag, and a black leather purse.

I stayed on a cold island in the south of Chile, and most of my bags stayed put. I only carried Rusty on short weekend trips within the country.

The four-month volunteer program was over soon. It was time to set sail for my longer backpacking trip through South America. With some push from my travel friend Alison, who also happens to be a backpacking genius, I accepted that Rusty wasn’t the best backpack after all.

main feature image for the article best places to see in udaipur rajasthan showing a window overlooking the udaipur city houses and the city and the aravalli hills in the distance tiny

Exploring Udaipur Slowly, and the Best Places to Visit in Udaipur, Rajasthan

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Okay, so let’s set it straight. Some of the below things happened in Udaipur.

A man stalked me; it doesn’t happen in all Indian cities, though I wouldn’t say this kind of thing never happens. A friendly banter is often interpreted as a desire for something more. In Udaipur, I had bought a blue and yellow georgette sari that had been hanging outside a shop. Its colorful flutter had caught my eye as I returned from an exploration of one of the best places to see in Udaipur (Rajasthan). I spoke with the shopkeeper casually, and when I left the shop, he was following me on his bike, having shut his store, calling out to me as if I was waiting for him to take me to a fort and show me a molten yellow sunset.

I also climbed, no scrambled up, a very muddy hill. It was the Karni Mata Temple hill, or the Machla Hills, on which the temple is located. Though a ropeway climbs to the temple from Udaipur city, at that time, it was closed. I took a staircase to the temple. But, I think, after following the stairs for a while, I had taken a shortcut, a mud path, as is expected of me. As it hadn’t rained in Udaipur for months, the path was dry, my feet slipping.

the climb to karnimata temple udaipur from manik lal park rajasthan karni mata is one of the best places to visit in udaipur rajasthan — The staircase I had taken from Manil Lal Park to Karni Mata temple in Udaipur

i think at some point i had taken this path which is muddy — the muddy path, which I eventually always find

I had arrived at Karni Mata temple’s back gate, which was closed. So I had to maneuver around. In ten minutes or so, a well-dressed straight-postured young man, who introduced himself as a royal family staff (maybe someone important, perhaps a young son’s friend) said he had come to get me. The guard who had refused to unlock the back gate for me had apparently called him. He, the son, not the guard, was courteous and concerned. “Ma’am how did you reach here?” He watched me curiously.

I felt slightly odd to be called ma’am by him, a guy who supposedly had come from the fort or the palace and who said all the royal family members were scheduled to do a puja in the temple later that day. I don’t remember all of it, but he was saying that it wasn’t safe for me to be up there alone in the evening.

a girl, the author of the article, priyanka gupta holding a blue umbrella in her hands looking up smiling standing under open sky under coconut trees water visible behind her

What Does it Mean to be Blogging for Eight Years?

For eight years, I haven’t woken up a day thinking I had nothing to do. You must have heard of, “Hey, my project is over. We are celebrating. Now onto new things!” I could never say this. I can exclaim these words after publishing every blog post, but I don’t feel like it. My project is understanding and documenting the act of being alive, and it is never over, until it is over.

I also always have more than enough to write because for almost five years my partner, Sagar, and I have been living nomadically in India. We don’t have a home, our stuff is in our car, Scooby, and we have been traveling slowly. In June 2025, we parked Scooby at Sagar’s parents’ home in North India. Now we have been traveling with our backpacks (Here are my best travel resources).

traveling from chennai to howrah train in background and female traveler in front with bags on her looks like a female traveler from India writer and blogger solo (1)

the author priyanka gupta writing the first draft of her travel memoir Journeys Beyond and Within with a computer in front of her and a window beyond

Writing the First Draft of My First Book, a Travel Memoir, in Pondicherry, Kolkata, and Siliguri

This post on writing the first draft is the second one in my larger effort to share the entire process of writing my first book, Journeys Beyond and Within…. I would suggest to first read: How I Started Writing My Travelogue, Journeys Beyond and Within….

The publisher needed book ideas, and when we had ideas, she needed chapter skeletons. So, all the possible chapter titles we could have in the book. This is for them to confirm if we synced over our understanding of the memoir. For two months we went back and forth, discussing what I could expect from the publisher and what they would need. Some major terms of the contract, such as no advance, 8.5% something royalty, etc., were told to me. I thought those are things we will discuss when we come to the book. For now, I have a book to write.

feature a girl holding a book called Journeys beyond and within surrounded by many copies of the book in a home. the book is a travel memoir the girl is the author of the book. book cover is deep green and has a beautiful image of the same woman sitting in a boat going into a mangrove forest

How Did I Get the Idea of Writing My 1st Book, a Travel Memoir, Journeys Beyond and Within…

My first book has come out. Today I want to talk about how I got the idea of writing a travel memoir while I was traveling with my partner in our car with all our stuff in it (now four years and counting).

Travel and personal growth book Journeys Beyond and Within Mockup in the forest with a river like path leading into the deeper woods symbolic of how our journeys lead us deeper into the world and ourselves along with the text available on Amazon worldwide written

the author standing in beautiful mountains with arms open embracing her long writing and travel journey

Seven Years as a Full-Time Writer, four of which I have spent on the road

On My Canvas turned seven in August. I couldn’t publish a post on its anniversary. As I’ve repeated in my newsletter Looking Inwards, a big project kept me busy. Soon that project will be out in the world and see the sun. Until then, I’m here to write about these seven years of full-time writing.

Along with the blog, I have freelanced, written poems, penned down stories, and so on. I’ve been on the road for four of those years, with all my things in the car. Yeah, my partner has been with me, too. I’m sure you have read about our itinerant journey in this massive post.

wooden hut in wayanad kerala surrounded by greenery

Leaving Behind a Forest to Get Into Another One: Finding Accommodation in Wayanad (Kerala)

As I said in the post on the Wayanad Wildlife Sanctuary, I wasn’t happy leaving the 100-year-old sylvan cottage that was my home for three days.

The last morning in the Sanctuary’s forest stay was-let’s just say-not easy on me. The previous night, my partner, Sagar, and I finished a bottle of whiskey. In the morning, I showered, and we took a jungle safari. Mommy elephants and baby elephants crossed the road ahead of us. My joy was a little subdued. After the safari, which ended at eight, I packed the rest of the things, brushed, walked, had tea, and wrote for more than an hour.