In The End India Won.

Nine.  Bloody.  Years.

Very little has happened since my last post over a week ago.  The pace has been slow as we've spent the last nine or so days chilling out on the beach.  It's been ideal, just what we needed to end our trip in India. Before we got to the beach we spent a few days in Fort Kochi which was amazing, for the most part.  It's a really scenic little place brimming with cool restaurants, cafe's and one bar.  The main tourist attraction here is the Kathakali dancing.  I wasn't really sure what it was and wasn't really fussed but Laura was keen so I went along.  After a quick explanation of what to expect I decided I wasn't interested, sulked a little and acted like a restless child in the back seat of a car on a long journey.  Obviously we had to go 2 hours early so that we could watch the performers putting on their make-up.  Why? I get bored watching Laura put on her make up.  I'd rather see the finished product so that I can fool myself into thinking that she doesn't actually look like the Cracken from "Clash of the Titans".  So, after watching paint dry (pretty much literally) the show started.  Thank god.  I perked up a little, stopped kicking the chair in front of me and decided to be attentive.  The chap on stage explained that these dancers / actors had to study the art of Kathakali theatre for nine years to get to this level.  Nine years, they must be good.  Wrong.  The premise is simple, each word within the language is linked with a movement of the body and face.  It's like a more elaborate and slower version of sign language.  Luckily we were given a script so that when the show started we could follow what was happening.  I thought it was going to be short because the script was only one page of A4. Wrong again.  Each word took about two minutes to "communicate".  In the three days that it took to get to the end of the show I wondered who they were actually performing for.  No one in the audience had a clue what was going on.  Remember, you have to study for nine years to understand it.  Essentially, it was just a group of men in make-up and dresses performing interpretive dance for each other.  Sounds like the party scene in Brighton.  Anyway, I had fulfilled my duty as a boyfriend and had a reasonably good time but I think Laura wished she'd gone on her own so she could have relaxed and enjoyed the show.

Putting some graft in to catch lunch.

We're now into our final day in India and I can proudly say that we survived.  It's pretty hard to believe that we fell in love with a country that is such a fucking pain in the arse.  I don't think I'll ever visit another country that will have the same effect on me.  It's a paradox.  India is beautiful and disgusting, enlightening and infuriating, difficult and simple, dirty and.....no just dirty.  The people here have some of the biggest smiles and the most piercing frowns.  They are the most kind, helpful and pleasant people but have the tendency to be the most annoying, lying, lazy little fuckers I have ever come across.  The same man who elbows you in the fight for a seat on the bus will send an apologetic head waggle for accidently standing on your toes once the dust has settled.  Although I've been trying for weeks to give insights into how India works and what it's like to be here, I still don't understand it myself.  We've had two months to travel, learn and soak it up and we've barely scratched the surface of this deep and interesting land.

Since arriving we've visited over seven states, 19 cities and towns, travelled over 9000km using buses, trains, auto-rickshaws, pedal rickshaws, camels, bicycles, jeeps, planes and bamboo rafts.  We've learned to cook, practice yoga, surf (kind of), speak a little Hindi, barter like professionals, humour stupid fucking hippies who want to talk about the path to enlightenment without showing a trace of anger, and, most importantly, we've learned that you have to give in to India because if you try to fight it, it will destroy you.

Laura ready to leave the beach.  I had
her other 14 bags.

God only know's how many temples we've visited, how much curry we have consumed, how much excrement in litres that Laura has passed and how much money we have lost due to being fleeced on a daily basis.  One thing is for sure though.  For all it's annoyances, backward ways and difficulties, India is a fascinating place.  If you had asked me a month ago whether I'd visit India again I'd of told you that I'd rather learn the art of Kathakali theatre.  Now though, I'm already thinking about what we should do when we return.  It's quite a turn around.

With all of that said, I hereby officially end the first chapter of both our journey and this blog.  India.....Done.  Providing we can obtain our visa's for the communist nation that is China, I will have lots more to share with you over the coming weeks.  No scrap that,  it seems as though Blogger may be banned in China.  No joke.   I won't know until I get there, but if you don't hear from me for a while it's because my right to freedom of speech has been taken away.




Lessons learned this week:

1. Indian Airplanes are like buses.  They seem to stop in every town to let people on and off.
2. Don't mess with the sea.  The sea will always win.
3. It's easy to lose a week of your life vegetating on a beach.
4. It's easy to learn nothing whilst vegetating on a beach.

x

Uber Travellers

After last weeks slightly melancholy look at how I've become a miserable old man, this week has been just what I needed to pull myself together.  It's been a busy few days.  We left Hampi, headed for Munnar where some of Southern India's biggest tea plantations are found, spent a couple of days in a nature reserve and we're now in Fort Cochi.  Oh, and I turned 24.

Not happy with the money situation.

Let me start with the first little annoyance of the week.  In Munnar we went to the ATM to get out another wad of monopoly money but this time instead of getting a bunch of 100 or 500 rupee notes, we were presented with eight 1000 rupee notes.  This was a major inconvenience.  Let me try to put it into perspective.  Breakfast at a food stall will cost 10 rupees. A rickshaw might be 50.  Dinner in a cafe is maybe 200.  If you present a chai walla who wants 10 rupees with a 1000 note he will look at you like you've just pissed on his kids and set fire to his house.  They are impossible to spend.  The ATM may as well of given us soiled toilet paper.  It's more difficult to spend a 1000 rupee note in India then it is to spend a Scottish 5 pound note in England.  Luckily we managed to pay for one of our hotel rooms with one of the notes but it wasn't easy.  You know in England when someone at the bar hands over a 50 quid note and there are a multitude of scientific checks that have to be carried out to confirm the authenticity of the note because only drug dealers and bank robbers have them?  It was like that.

Laura enjoying the chicken bus.

This last week we've moved away from private air conditioned buses and tried our luck on the chicken buses with the locals.  I used to think getting down the West Road on the X82 was a nightmare, it isn't. Although there are more Indians on that bus.  These buses are a little uncomfortable and getting on is an experience in itself.  You have to push, pull, elbow and pretty much fight your way on. Not easy to do with a rucksack, day sack and overflow bag. Then there's finding a seat: repeat process.  Coming from Munnar on the public bus meant speeding through winding cliff side roads at a pace that means just staying on your seat (if you were strong enough to get one) is a workout.  You literally have to hold on for dear life.  Then, when the mid morning heat kicks in, it gets a little worse.  You'd think that the Indian's would be used to this type of transport but for some reason they can't handle it.  I always wondered why the road sides are covered curry.  Now I know.  It's not curry, it's chunder.  There are Indians all through the bus with their heads out of windows chucking up last nights masala.  It's weird.  For whatever reason, neither myself or Laura threw up our dinner, it made a nice change.

Getting in the mix with the Gerodie pill heads local tribe.

Taking the local bus was an experience I will never forget.  It was worth doing to get to the wildlife sanctuary where we spent my birthday.  The place was total paradise.  It's not every year you get chance to spend your birthday somewhere so cool.  We took bamboo rafts down the river and spent some time swimming, went on a bird watching trek (which is much more fun than it sounds), and had the pleasure of eating with a local tribe in the jungle.  I'm not sure how it was arranged but it seemed that offering a bottle of rum and some food was enough for them to agree.  When we arrived on their rock, they were already hammered or high on whatever it is they smoke, eat or drink.  Before eating they wanted to show off their traditional dancing and singing.  It was good to watch but I couldn't help comparing it to the singing and dancing outside of a takeaway on the Bigg Market at 3am on a Saturday morning.  They just seemed to shuffle around to the sound of their own out of time clapping and mumbled singing.  Just like pill heads in The Toon.  When they had finished it was our turn to reciprocate.  Shit.  What do we do?  This tribe's opinion of the English nation was resting solely in our hands.  Panic. Panic. Panic.  My mind was blank.  I couldn't think of a single song.  What would personify the English nation?  How could we let them know what we are all about in just a couple of melodic lines?  Then it came, it was obvious.  Cumbawumba: Tubthumping.  We belted it out like no ones business and nailed it.  For whatever reason they seemed to like it or were at least polite enough to pretend.  Job done.  Luckily I had brought along my Uke so I was later able to rebuild what was left of our nations broken pride by singing a few more reasonable tunes.
Seeing the tribe and spending time with them was a fantastic experience.  They are a million miles away from what we class as a "normal" life.  Happy, stressless and content with their lot.  They didn't need anything.  They take from the jungle and live happily in natures back garden,  at peace.  I guess having this experience and newly freed mind makes us "Uber Travellers".  Shit.

Dinner for ten for two.

The home stay that we stayed at in the nature reserve was amazing.  The family looking after us made us feel as though we were right at home.  Vinod, the owner, organised our activities and his wife was responsible for making the best food we've come across.  It's a funny thing eating in an Indian's home.  As we sat tucking into whatever delights had been prepared, she would stand on the other side of the table watching carefully as we spooned the food into our mouths.  In the time it took for my fork to get from my mouth back to the plate, she would have spooned on another helping of curry.  There are a few rules that are unspoken but that are learnt very quickly when you are eating an Indian's food in their house;

1. Eat or offend.
2. Don't stop for breath.
3. Don't get full.
4. Don't leave the table until the food (which is enough to feed 10) is all gone.
5. Expect to repeat the process in two hours time.

Needless to say a few pounds were gained over those days but there is nothing wrong with a bit of birthday indulgence.

Lessons learned this week;

1. Public transport in India is not for the faint hearted.
2. 1000 rupee notes are worthless.
3. Chumbawumba is never the right answer.  In any situation.
4. Eat or offend.

Ticking Boxes

I have memories of being a fresh faced 19 year old lad setting off on an adventure to Thailand and feeling nothing but excitement.  When I arrived, everything amused and interested me, I wanted to throw myself straight into it all without asking any questions.  Tuk-tuk sir? Yes.  You want to see my shop? Yes.  You want to go somewhere you have never heard of and pay me lots of money to take you there? Yes. You want to eat a snake? Yes.  There were no bad people in the world and I was confident in the knowledge that I was invincible.  I truly believed that nothing could harm me.  If it did, I'd laugh it off.  I took all parts of that trip, the good, the bad and the ugly and made memories that will be with me forever.  In fact, I don't think that a day goes by where I don't remember something or someone from that trip and laugh to myself.

Getting absolutely hammered at Carrom

This time around things are a little different.  I feel as though I've lost my naivety, I don't want to dive in head first, it's safer to dip your toe isn't it? The invincibility that I had back then has faded and I feel more vulnerable.  My mind works differently now, I know what I like, what kind of people I like to spend time with and I've got no patience when it comes to being in a situation that bores or annoys me.  Rickshaw Sir? No. You want see my shop? No. You want to see temple? Fuck no, please, no more temples.  If I never see another temple til the day I die I couldn't care less.
I can't put my finger on what it is that has changed inside of me and it scares me that I'm not so excitable any more.  Is it a "getting older" thing? If it is I fear that I might turn into that grumpy old man that bursts footballs when they come over the fence.  Maybe 50 years ago, that guy at the bottom of your street with a pile of deflated footballs was snorting cocaine off a Thai prostitutes tits and grabbing life (and possibly her) by the balls, taking opportunities without thinking long enough to contemplate the downside.  I need to get that mind set back.  I'm not into grabbing lady boys by the goolies, but I wish I was still stupid enough not to think of the drawbacks of decisions that I might make.  Maybe it will come back with time, or maybe I'm just different now.  The Indians (and in fact most of Asia) have a saying for this;  "Same same, but different", that's the only way I can describe it.  I feel the same, but I know I'm different.

The view from the top of Monkey Temple

Now that all the light hearted stuff is out of the way I can get down to telling you what's been going on since my last post.  We spent most of our time on the beaches in Goa.  We drank, we ate, we sunbathed and then drank a little more.  I'm afriad that doesn't make for a very interesting read but thats about the top and bottom of it.  What might tickle you though is a story of something that occured as a result of this booze filled diet.  The Aussie lads who we had been travelling with for a few weeks were real big drinkers.  Where your average Joe would cure a hangover by drinking some fruit juice, these lads were drinking fruit flavoured alcopops just to get them ready for beers at brunch. I've never seen anything like it.  However, drinking loads of beer is not the same as handling your drink.  One lad, Blair (a nice chap with a sound head on him) decided when pissed that it was a good idea to clothes line a cow from a moped travelling at 30kmh.  Any guesses who might of won?  Our guy Blair ended up with 27 stitches and a nasty infection in his arm.  As it stands he's in hospital in the UK on a drip waiting for an operation.  I suspect the drip bag is filled with watermelon flavored Bacardi Breezer so he'l be fine.

Too much time on the beach can turn your brain to mush.  I think that's why I'm struggling to pen my thoughts here.  We left the sandy shores of Goa and headed to Hampi. This place is like nothing I have ever seen.  The entire landscape is made up of huge boulders.  See the picture for an idea of it, it's difficult to describe.  We hired a rickshaw for the day to take us on the Temple tour which was a mistake.  I can't take anything away from these temples and ruin's, they are incredible but once you have seen a few you've pretty much seen them all.  We knew before we got in the rickshaw that we were a bit bored of seeing temples.  We called it a day early and chilled out in a few bars.  For me this was more interesting as we met a load of really cool people.  Intelligent people with things to say and opinions that I genuilnly cared about.  And I have a feeling that most of them weren't just regurgitating things that they had read that day in the news or NME.  You can't pay a rickshaw driver 500 rupees to help you meet interesting people, it has to happen by chance.  That said, if you made that offer I'm sure they'd take on the challenge.

It was only after uploading this pic that I remembered
I was only wearing my under-crackers.  Enjoy ladies.

Today we found a lake which was a perfect spot for a bit of cliff (rock) diving (jumping).  While I was suspended in the air between the rock I wish I'd never jumped off, and the water I was dreading entering, I had a thought;  Travelling is about experiences, not just ticking boxes.  There are a number of manuals but they don't know what I like to do or how I like to do it.  Visiting a temple is nice, but it isn't an experience.  Visiting a lake is nice, but its not an experience.  Sitting for an hour playing Carrom with the locals who sell water at the temple gate is an experience.Visiting a lake and jumping off rocks with a group of strangers is an experience.  That's why I'm here.  Not just to tick boxes.  I'll remember that from now on.

Lessons Learned this week;

1. Don't just tick boxes.  Ticking boxes makes for a dull trip.
2. As you grow older, you grow wiser (mostly).  It makes it difficult to make naive decisions.
3. You can't plan everything, that's part of the fun.
4. There is nothing like an air conditioned mall with multiplex cinema when you are missing home.

It's the People, Not the Place.

A lot of travelers will tell you that it's "The people, not the place" that makes a trip.  This is true to an extent. However, even if you met a naked Cheryl Cole / Brad Pitt in Baghdad I think you'd find it difficult to say it was the best trip ever.  The ones who say "It's the journey, not the destination" are full of shit though.  When was the last time your EasyJet flight was the highlight of your holiday?  If it ever was, you need to find a better holiday spot.  Over the last week we have met some fantastic people and I do believe that this has made the destinations more enjoyable.  Let me quickly tell you where we have been before I name names; Jodpur, Udiapur and Mumbai.  Jodpur wasn't really up to much, it had a fort (like every other city in Rajistan) and not much else other than a posh restaurant which we utalised more for it's beer and spirit collection than anything else.  I'm not sure if I mentioned how difficult it is to get a beer in Northern India?  I've had about three since I got here.

Shashi and the Cleanest Kitchen in India.

Udaipur had a lot more to offer.  It was a really chilled out place with lots of good shopping, some decent sights and a few activities worth having a go at.  Apparently some of the scenes in Octopussy were filmed there too, although I don't know the film well enough to confirm or deny that and I'd never believe a word a local said.  We decided to go for an Indian cooking course which was actually more like a boot camp.  Shashi, our instructor was a very harsh mistress indeed.  If you weren't pounding the life out of the garlic cloves the way she wanted, she'd pound the life out of your balls.  We made load of different traditional Indian dishes and they were all amazing.  As well as the amazing food, our teacher, Shashi had a particularly interesting background.  Before we started she gave us a little insight into her life and the events that had lead  to her to running the cooking classes.  About nine years ago her husband (of an arranged marriage who she said she loved very much) sadly died.  This is sad for anybody who experiences this sort of shock but because of her religion, the grieving process is much different to what you'd expect from a typical British person.  She had to remain silent and entirely covered up for 45 days, only eating when the sun was down.  After this 45 day period she was allowed to talk but not leave the house for one year.  It was only at this point that she could start to build up her life again and eventually opened the doors of her house to allow travellers to partake in cooking classes.  I can't imagine why she had to do this, it seems a little extreme.  That said, I've also learned that back in the day some Indian women (who are still alive) would cremate themselves with their dead husband as a mark of respect?! Anyway, she's a strong woman.  I'm lucky enough to know a few.

I think this is the work of Udaipur's very own Banksy.

After Udaipur we headed for Mumbai on a 17 hour sleeper train.  Not the most comfortable journey given that we were sharing our beds with cockroaches and rats but we have found the perfect solution to these little nuisances......Valium.  Valium is available over the counter here and its really cheap.  I haven't been down back alleys doing deals with dodgy drug lords, nor is this the beginning of a slippery slope which ends up with me dying from an overdose in a crack den in Camden.  It just helps to get some sleep on the night train.  We'd heard a lot of mixed things about Mumbai.  Some people hate it and some people love it.  One person even said it was worse than Delhi; A statement that should never be taken lightly given that Delhi is the benchmark of grimnesss.  But to be honest, Mumbai is my favorite place so far.  Without being too patriotic, you can really see the influence of the British rule in Mumbai and in fairness it's done the place a massive favour.  Simple things like pavements, zebra crossings and a ban on rickshaws make it easy to get around and enjoy all that it has to offer.  I think there was even a bin somewhere.

Classic Bollywood Film Posters

We decided to take a slum tour one day to see what it's like in the real poverty stricken areas of the city.  In my mind a slum was somewhere that the real poor people live, in shacks, with no food, water or electricity and have terrible lives.  I couldn't have been more wrong. The Dharavi slum was as clean as some of the major cities we've been to, has reasonable living conditions that include clean running water and electricity for 2 hours each day and there is a sense of community there greater than anywhere I have ever been.  They say it is a city within a city.  The slum itself is only 1.6 square kilometres big but it is home to over one million people.   In most cases if you are born in the slum, you live, work and die there.  However, these people are not ill educated or living in disease riddled streets for the most part.  Although I must admit a saw quite a few dead rats knocking around in the alleys.  If even the rats can't handle it, that says something.  We met doctors, engineers, teachers and all other kinds of people that you would meet on the streets of Newcastle.  The difference is that the people here are happy with their lot.  They don't look over their neighbours fence to see what kind of car they have so that they can keep up with the Jones's, they look over the fence to make sure their neighbour has enough food and water.  Just to clarify, the aforementioned fence is purely metaphorical, we're not talking about people who have decked back gardens with patio heaters here.  It's difficult to describe but it's certainly opened my eyes. It's not an easy life in the slum by any means, but it's a life that we could all learn from in some way I think.

Breakfast Time in Goa.

We've now landed in the beaches of Goa which is total contrast to where we have just come from.  There are two things to do here; Sunbathe and get drunk.....and that's exactly what we'll be doing for the next few days.  Its a funny thing that you should need a holiday from traveling, but you do.  It's not quite the same as your standard two week holiday,  It takes effort, patience and lots of planing.

Lessons learned this week:

1. India is more of a continent that a country.  It changes dramatically from state to state.
2. If anyone says anything about going to Kashmir, they are a crook.
3. There are three options when ordering cornflakes in Goa.  With cold milk, hot milk or beer.
4. The only people on the planet who are whiter and more "lager loutish" than the Brits are the Russians.

x

Some Get Lost. Some Find Themselves.

It's hard to know where to start with this blog.  Now that we're over illness and things are moving quickly there is a lot to write about.  I might even be able to get through this one without a single mention of toilet troubles.....might.

Since we left Varanasi we've visited Jaipur, Ranthambore National Park and we're currently in Pushkar.

This weird camera angle makes the anaconda look like a cobra?!

Jaipur was a pretty nice place.  It didn't feel particularly different from any other place we had been but it moves at a slower pace.  We done the usual traveler stuff; visited a fort, checked out a palace, charmed snakes and argued with rickshaw drivers over the smallest amounts of money.  Sometimes you have to give yourself a shake and remind yourself what 10p is actually worth.  You can't even get a packet of space raiders for that back in England these days.  We fancied bit of a quiet night during our stay in Jaipur so we went to the cinema to see the latest Bollywood blockbuster, Angeepath.


I'm fucked if I know what the hell it was about but it certainly entertained.  Indian cinema is not the place to go if you fancy a quiet night though.  It's not like the cinema in England where people get pissed off if someone slurps their coke or rustles their popcorn too loud.  No.  It's more like panto.  When the hero comes on screen (which is usually out of focus) the audience goes wild.  They cheer, throw popcorn, clap and in some rare instances they even stop talking on their phones.  I did find it a little strange that one second we were seeing someone being brutally beaten then in the next scene everyone is singing and dancing.  I'd love to see Arnold Schwarzenegger break out into song after delivering a classic action hero line. "GET TO THE CHOPPER!!!" and cue music.  Maybe Hollywood has something to learn.  Anyway, we had a really good time and can't wait to do it again.

After Jaipur we jumped in a Jeep and drove five hours to Ranthambore National Park for a tiger safari.  It was a quiet place mainly filled with rich american tourists (the hotels, not the nature reserve).  Our safari was a slight disappointment to be honest.  We were out for four hours and didn't see much.  There are more animals knocking about in the streets then there were on the safari.  At one point our driver tried to claim there was a black bear in the bushes but I was pretty sure it was just a dark coloured shrub blowing in the breeze.  Still, we were out long enough for me to catch a cold and damage my spinal chord due to the sheer state of the road.  At least I wasn't shitting or spewing though so in my book it was a good day.  We spoke to a fair few people who had also been on safari and hadn't managed to see any tigers either.  I think it might just be another scam.  Print some photos of tigers off, stick them up in the ticket office and drive daft tourists around in a field for a few hours.  Money made.

Laura and Jimmy the camel

We're now in Pushkar which is my favorite place so far.  It's a holy town so things are much different here compared with other places we have visited.  The main difference being that the locals aren't scamming little bastards.  We've been spiritually cleansed (for a cost...obviously), rode a camel through the Indian countryside, climbed a mountain and had some time to chill out and collect our thoughts.  I've noticed that this town is full of hippies.  I figure they are the kind of people who came to India on a two week holiday and just ended up "getting lost" here.  They annoy me.  I was sat next to one of these uber travelers (you know the ones I mean, the ones who have had one off experiences that no other traveler could possibly of had in some remote village where the locals have never seen a white man before and it was totally spiritual and oh my god I can't even describe how much it changed my life because I realised how lucky these people are not to live in modern society and be restricted by whatever the fuck is topical at the moment). I fucking hate those types.  Where was I? Oh, so this woman who was "lost in India" pretty much put her armpit hair in my biryani.  That's not cool.  I can't remember where I was going with this............

Lessons learned this week;

1. Hemorrhoids do not appreciate camel treks in sweltering heat.
2. Bollywood films are bloody epic.  Well worth a watch.
3. Bring a map.  There are enough people "lost in India".
4. 10p is worth a lot to someone with nothing, but nothing to a lot of us.  Don't be tight.

Anniversary Chocolate Cake.....

I guess any place that came after Delhi was going to seem like a total walk in the park after what we had experienced.  I don't blame Delhi, well, maybe I do a little, but the truth is that I think we were probably just a little unlucky. However, Delhi is only a tiny part of India so we should be careful not to assume that the whole of the country smells of petrol, cow shit, rabid dogs and out of date chicken and that the constant sound of rickshaw horns and persistent shop owners is the norm.  That would be unfair.

Classic Indian train digs.

When we eventually left Delhi, which was naturally difficult, we started to settle down a little and enjoy ourselves.  Our first stop away from Delhi was Agra.  Actually that's not strictly true.  On the way to Agra we jumped off at what we thought was our stop (as was confirmed by numerous locals who it seems do not actually understand how to say no....another good lesson learned) and were peddled around on a rickshaw for an hour and a half before our driver realized we were 50km west of where our hotel was actually located.  A 50km peddle rickshaw is too much for even the most hardened drivers so we jumped on the train again and finally made it.  Thank God!

The most amazing thing we saw by far.

Agra was a quieter , quainter version of Delhi and more importantly it was easy to breath the reasonably clean air.  Apparently there are strict rules enforced on pollution to protect the facade of The Taj Mahal.  I'm not sure if anything in India is "enforced" to any degree, but the air did seem cleaner so you never know.  We spent a couple of days checking out the Taj Mahal and Agra Fort.  Both were amazing.  The Taj Mahal is probably now my favorite building.  My only issue with it was the sheer amount of Chinese and Japanese (and possibly some other kinds of those types) blocking the view of everything.  They were literally everywhere.  They all have the biggest most expensive cameras too which is weird because they take shit photos.  A couple asked me to take a photo of them so I stood in position with the Taj behind them, not a bad shot I thought to myself but they didn't seem pleased.  Oh no.  They wanted a shot of them standing next to a tree.  It wasn't even that nice of a tree.  Shit photo.  THE FUCKING TAJ MAHAL IS RIGHT BEHIND YOU!  Anyhow, we had a great time there and it was nice to learn about the history of the buildings and what not.  I won't bore you with the details, that's what wikipedia is for.

Hanging out on the Ganges the night before Laura took ill.

So now we are in Varanasi which is by far the best place we have visited so far.  It's a very cultured place with a very interesting history and offers many chances to immerse yourself in the Indian culture.  We've dabbled in yoga, which has lead to us dabbling in massages due to being in absolute agony afterwards.  We also took a boat out on the Ganges to watch some bodies being cremated on the waters edge.  I know that sounds like the total rapeage of a very personal and upsetting ceremony but that's kind of just the way it is.  Aside from the boat loads of tourists whizzing past, the ceremonies are very spiritual and its nice to see that the families and friends of the deceased have so much respect for those being cremated.

Today, I was supposed to have a sitar lesson.  Supposed to.  Laura managed (managed sounds like she has been trying for ages....she has not.) to fall ill again.  Poor little bugger.  She's in a bad way.  Today is actually our anniversary which we decided we would celebrate yesterday as there were more options of things to do.  Let me tell you how it went;

Laura got ill.  Now just to clarify when someone gets "ill" in India it means they are shitting through the eye of a needle.  Lets not go into the real specifics though.  When she finally got to sleep, I snuck out to go and buy her some presents.  Romantic, I know.  When I got back she was awake so she started unwrapping said presents.  Half way through unwrapping them, the poor lass had a little accident in her undercrackers.  The kind of accident that would be bad timing whatever you were doing, but to be half way through a romantic gift giving session was the best use of slapstick comedic timing ever.  She didn't think it too funny mind.  Being the hero that I am, I got her cleaned up and even cleaned the boston from her soiled shreddies.  If that's not love I don't know what is.  Travelling makes you closer; FACT.

It might seem a little bad taste to be writing such things about my ill girlfriend (who has actually been verbally promoted to wife to reduce confusion amongst the locals) but when you're travelling, talking about bowel movements with strangers is as common and harmless as talking about the weather at the bus stop in England.

Lessons learnt this week;

1. Indian's don't know how to say no. 
2. Never ask yes or no questions.  See above for the answer that will be received.
3. Always ask leading questions.  For example,"Which station is this?" as opposed to "Is this Agra station?".
4. Every other traveler in India has been ill and scammed.  It's not personal.
5. India is a really cool place.  It just takes some getting used to.

You might notice there are no photos with this post.  Somehow, they have been deleted from our memory card.  Totally gutted, all our photos of the Taj Mahal are gone.  Nothing is ever easy eh?

As soon as Laura is well again we'll be heading over to Jaipur.  Hopefully that won't be too long.

x

Delhi: It's not easy like.

I was fully geared up for a bout of culture shock when we arrived in Delhi.  I didn't quite know what to expect, but I could guess that it would be a million miles away from the luxury of Dubai.  A couple of good friends (Dav and Althea) had shared a lot of there experiences with us before we left so I figured I was going to be pretty clued up.  I wasn't.  Even 5 days later I'm not much wiser to the way things work.  It's a hard place to be, the best word to describe it is "difficult".  Let me tell you a little story of our first day here.

Laura - Ready to cry due to the state of our Hostel.  

When we arrived into Delhi it was around 7pm and dark.  The ride in the taxi from the airport was awesome.  These taxi drivers have amazing spacial awareness.  I park my Punto like its a tank.  These guys drive their rickshaws like they're unicycles, dodging and weaving past other cars, pedestrians and cows.  It's actually pretty thrilling.  We were dropped off in a dark scary back alley and led to the hostel by our taxi man as he said it was "not safe".  Brilliant.  We were advised by the guy behind reception that it was not safe to leave the hostel at night and that his co-worker would lead us to a restaurant round the corner.  Fair enough, good advice I thought.  We ate and scurried back through the alley certain that we would be raped and killed.

Cockroaches bouling al owwa wor bathroom

The next morning the fella behind the desk made us a brew and we chatted about our plans.  It was nice.  He offered us some advice on what to do and see, but said that we should get of Delhi and see other nicer parts of India.  Given that we were living on the corner of rape alley and murder lane, we thought it might not be a bad idea.  He had organized his friend to take us out for breakfast and then on to the tourist information centre where we could gather some information and decide where we wanted to go.  For those of you who have been to Delhi, I guess you probably know where this is going, but at the time, it didn't seem that obvious.

We went for breakfast.  Fine.  Saw a temple. Fine.  Went to the tourist information office....Not actually a tourist information office but a snide travel agent trying to rob us of our cash and fly us to Kashmir.  I'm led to believe that Kashmir is pretty war torn.  When we didn't book anything, everyone was really pissed off all of a sudden, including our receptionists friend.  Weird.

We decided that something wasn't quite right and managed to palm off this "friend" and headed to the national museum, not to look at old shit, just to get out of the noise and away from copious amounts of people trying to con us out of our money.

At this point our minds are telling us a few things;

1. We're staying in a hostel in a well dangerous area.
2. The guy behind the counter at our hostel has arranged an elaborate scam to fleece us of our money.
3. We'd like to get out of Delhi, it's just a bit much for us.

To get out of Delhi we thought we could find the train station and maybe book some tickets to head to Agra. Maybe it would be a little less chaotic there.  In England finding the train station is easy.  Flag down a taxi.  Tell the driver where you want to go.  Go there.  Pay the driver.  Easy.  This is how you do it in Delhi;

• Flag down a rickshaw.
• Tell him where you want to go.
• Barter on the price.
• Get fleeced.
• Arrive at a place that looks like it might be a train station but that appears to be closed. 
• Argue that this is not the station.
• Have an "official" train station employee come to you, show you some ID that looks like it was ordered from the back pages of FHM and recite an entire page of the Lonely Planet guide to India rail information.
• Argue that he does not work for the station (although his ability to recite the text is impressive).
• Get out of rickshaw nowhere near the station.
• Get fleeced.

We found the station eventually and all was well.  Apart from the fact that now the guy at the hostel is super pissed of with us for not buying tickets to a war zone.  We decided to move to a different hostel round the corner as we didn't feel right being there.  It turns out that the area we were in is pretty amazing.  Loads of cool shops and stalls, plenty of atmosphere and loads to do.  It appeared that rape alley and murder lane were in fact safe as houses.  The whole "its not safe" crack was just part of the scheme to get us so scared that we would want to leave on the next 800 quid flight to Kashmir.  You live and learn.

So, all problems solved then, we're out of the horrible hostel and in a new nice place with this whole exciting area to explore.  Not quite.  Delhi belly decide to step up.  I was ill.  I wish I could say that the most violent chundering known to man was the worst part of it.  It was not.  Taking a fiery piss out of my arse was much much worse.  I was pretty much bed bound and had to leave Laura to her own devices.  She was a good nurse (no lads) and although she was going out of her mind, she stayed in with me most of the time and made sure I was OK.  I can be a little needy when I'm ill.

The view from our nice new hostel

Any who, I am back to good health and starting to quite enjoy myself now.  A combination of culture shock, scare mongering, scams and illness has meant that our first stop in India has been a bit....difficult. Lets hope the next part of the journey goes a little more smoothly.