Day 29 - 29th Feb - Chitwan National Park

The view from the hotel balcony...

Woke up at around 6 and packed our bags for the tour to Chitwan. Over breakfast we had a chat with a cool Italian lady who'd spent her whole life since the age of 18 just working for 7 months a year and travelling the rest of the time. A very smart teenager indeed.

Our luxury tourist coach

We met the guy who'd arranged the tour and stood in expectation of the comfy-looking tourist buses we'd seen stacking up during yesterday's strike. We were soon led to the local bus, an apparently "luxury coach", where we squeezed, rattled and fidgeted as our driver hurtled along with reckless abandon. No-one else seemed to squirm and brace themselves like we were  compelled to do so maybe we'll harden to it.

We arrived gratefully at 11am and were met by a guy from the hotel - who promptly marched us to another smaller bus where we spent an additional 40mins developing new bruises.

At the next stop, the promised jeep was beaten to it by public transport and we were loaded onto yet another bus. However, this one was full of Westerners who had had quite a cosy non-stop journey from Pokhura. This just added insult to injury since they'd come twice as far in the same amount of time and had no war-wounds to show for it.

The most comfortable transport yet

10mins later we got off the bus and realised how unecessary an organised tour was. There were loads of touts for various hotels all clamouring for business. Having side-stepped this decision, we were finally bundled into a jeep and whisked away to our Hotel.

The Rainbow Lodge didn't look too bad and we signed in over a 'welcome drink' before heading to our thankfully clean room for the first hot shower we'd had in a while.

Lunch wasn't the a'lacarte affair we'd been led to believe it was and we were soon handed our spaghetti filled pancake roll, chips, cold veg and a slice of melon to ponder over. We weren't sure of the function of the melon but were saved from the quandry of deciding whether it was decoration, dessert or part of the main event by discovering it was too hard to eat anyway.

We took a walk past the hundreds of almost identical hotels offering almost identical packages and down to the river. On the other side of the river was a great big crocodile basking in the sun. It was so unexpected that we almost didn't see it. We gazed at it for a while and chatted to a lovely German couple who were travelling with a little girl.

We went back to the hotel for our first excursion. We intially weren't very impressed as it started out the back of the hotel, but our guide, Anu, soon won us over. We walked through a Tharu village, talked about traditional Tharu village life and learned how rice grows.

Anu then took us to the 'elephant village' where we saw lots of elephants chucking dirt over themselves and preparing to go out. It was so impressive to see how well trained they were. All of the elephants had 3 specific people that they worked with and if I remember, I'll find out their names and roles when I get online. Anu also showed us elephant sweets: a combination of all sorts of lovely elephant goodies including rice and salt which they wrap up in grass. I got to feed one.

One of the poor elephants only had one tusk because wild elephants had come to the village and attacked him. He looked all wonky but not too sad. They seemed so much better cared for and loved than the ones we'd seen before.

As we left, we passed a group of Nepali woman who were carrying their handbags on their heads the same way that they carry baskets. It was really comical to see them all in saris with Gucci handbags strapped around their foreheads but we couldn't take a picture without looking rude.

We took a walk  around the edge of the park and saw more man-eating 'mugger' crocodiles. After realising just how real it is that dangerous animals live in this place I've started to feel less enthusiastic about seeing a rhino, tiger or bear.

We sat by the river for a while before going to the 'visitor's centre'. It was very basic but actually better than I expected. And it was small, which was nice.

After sunset and a little bit more riverside sitting, we realised it was getting dark and headed back. The darkness came quickly and I was very grateful that our guide was as skilled as he was. It was fascinating to watch him with his senses on full alert. Thankfully, we saw nothing but deer.

After another foul meal (I miss street food!) which reminded me of my all-inclusive holiday to Spain with Nic, but with no choice, we were chucked into a jeep to attend the 'Cultural Programme'.
We knew we were going to watch a traditional Tharu stick dance and had learned a little about their lives so we were expecting a ride to a village, have a cup of tea in a tent and a watch few oldies perform around a fire.  Not quite.

We arrived at a type of village hall and were seated on the back bench behind the large number of people who were already there. We were giggling about how it felt like we were about to watch a school play when the narration started. I would have loved to have seen the guy speaking because he sounded like a young country gent crossed with an old Nepali guy and mixed up with a cumputer generated voice where all the pronunciations had been mixed up.

When the young male dancers came on we were quite amazed. The skill, dexterity and accuracy they showed was very impressive. Some of the dances were a hybrid of morris dancing and 'Strictly'. Claire and Jane would have loved it.

There were some other stranger dances. One was apparently a dance for if a young man had died in the village but it was quite farcical. It seemed to involve one boy beautifully dressed as a young woman and very gracefully ballet dancing whilst trying to escape the clutched of a crazed Andy-Pandy style character.  Another was a boy in a giant peacock costume. I couldn't see much of his legs because of the crowd but I did see him fan his tail out and that was quite impressive.

Finally, there was a rousing group dance with crowd participation where we were highly entertained by a Japanese fella who stole the show. It got a little awkward because when the dance finished, all the people who'd been on stage just walked out and were followed by their friends from the spectator benches. The Tharu dancers whirled their sticks one last time and knelt down in formation just in time to see the last few people filing out of the door.

Day 28 - 28th Feb - Gorakhpur (India) - Sonauli (Nepal)

Arrived in Sonauli at around 1:30am, asked where the border was and were pointed in the right direction. It was pitch black and we couldn't see much at all.

We thought we saw the border barrier but when we spoke to two gun-toting guys there, they told us we'd got to the Nepal border but needed to get our passports stamped at Indian immigration. We asked where that was and they pointed out a building that we had strolled straight past.

We knocked on the door but we could hear faint snoring so we assumed they were fast asleep. We had little choice but to persist, despite their sleepy shouts of 'closed'. Eventually we were shouted through and had to find our way into the right room in the total darkness.

An Indian official was sleepily sat in his pyjamas and thrust some forms at us. He kept telling us to complete them quickly but they were the same forms given to us on the plane and not everything was relevant. He eventually snatched mine off me after I asked for clarification and started grumbling at me quite angrily. He even swiped the water bottle that I had put on the desk to the floor because it was blocking some of the light from the only lamp in the room. He then asked us to fish around in the desk drawer to find the official stamps that he needed. As we left, he said "thank you my dear" in a really genial way, which seemed odd given the way he'd acted.

We then trundled over the Nepal frontier to find the Nepal immigration desk. We knocked and were told it was closed until 6am. This was obviously a bit of a problem as we couldn't go into Nepal but couldn't go back into India. We walked further and approached the soldiers who were manning the actual Nepal border and had a very circular conversation. Eventually they accompanied us to the desk but got the same answer. After a while they just told us to find a hotel and come back in the morning so we officially entered Nepal illegally on the say-so of the border officials.

We checked into the only hotel that appeared open, Holiday Inn, which actually wasn't to bad but wasn't very holiday-like.

Woke up around 10am and checked out. Tried to get a bus to Lumbini but was a strike because a politician was kidnapped. We initially did not believe them because we thought they were trying to get us to have a rickshaw but it turned out it was the truth and there were no buses until 5pm. Couldn't really see the point of visiting the birthplace of Buddha at night so we wrote the day off and checked into Hotel Paradise which is not as nice (or rather, more nasty) but cheaper.

Exciting Sonauli

We weren't too distressed about the delay because we'd remembered it was a leap year and we had a day more than we thought so we went for a wander around the nearest village instead.

Even though it's literally yards away, Nepal seems very different to India. It's cleaner and the people seem more relaxed. They are also covered in labels and brands with funky haircuts. Everyone seems to be wearing at least one brand and we've seen several old ladies wearing full traditional dress and carrying a 'Diesel' backpack and such-like.

We arranged a tour to Chitwan National Park for tomorrow and I've got my fingers crossed that it's more impressive than our other 'tours'.

We finished off the evening at Prakash restaurant, where there wasn't a menu, just whatever was available, and Matt had an awesome mutton curry followed by a debate with the Indian guy on the next table who couldn't understand why we had to stick to a budget.

Day 27 - 27th Feb - Lucknow to Gorakhpur (and much, much later - Nepal)

We had very good intentions of getting up at 5am to pack our bags, sign out and get to the start of Lucknow's heritage walk for 7am. However, after our walk yesterday, Matt didn't seem so keen any more.
After breakfast, and this time avoiding the 'porridge' (a kind of milky soup with something akin to pearl barley floating in it), we arranged a Tuk Tuk to take us to a couple of sights. We were a bit short of time before our train so we took our backpags with us, crammed into the back.

Lucknow post office

First we had a fruitless visit to what may be the grandest Post Office in the world, to post the steadily desintegrating jifffy bag of spare wires we have been carrying around since London. We asked at the enquiry desk about which counter to go to and  were directed behind the glass-fronted counter to a guy at a desk. He asked to see what was in there and insisted that we peel off the duct tape that was pretty much holding it all together, only to write very neatly on a piece of paper that we were not allowed to send electronics. We weren't sure why he didn't just tell us verbally but he did get quite annoyed when we tried to question how Indian peope post electrical items and enquire how actually we could get it home.

The Residency

Afterwards we were take to 'The Residency', which is where the British in Lucknow were besieged during the uprising in 1857. It was quite a big grassy area reminiscent of a small stately home but with the buildings in ruins and a bit more rubbish floating about. Charmingly, they had also initiated an excavation project to uncover the sewer pipes to show how the British disposed of their waste!

Bara Imambara gates

We also had a quick visit to Bara Imambara, a big hall and attached mosque. Interestingly, it was built as famine relief. People were paid to build it but each night, 25% of the days work was demolished in order to keep the project going longer. More genteel folk were also paid to work on it if they were short of money but were allowed to work at night to spare their blushes.

Bara Imambara great hall

The main hall was quite pretty but we weren't very sure what it was all about. We could have also visited the labyrinth on the 2nd floor but as we only had 30 mins and it was 350 rupees each, we didn't fancy paying so much to get ourselves lost in a building we didn't understand and miss our train.

Matt's kebab gift box

Apparently, Lucknow's food speciality is kebab so Matt asked the driver to take us to find one. As Matt was served his mutton kebab in a nice little presentation box, I was up the street trying to ascertain that the typical greasy looking snack I wanted to buy was vegetarian. It certainly was. Think deep-fried samosa filled with deep-fried pastry and you're almost there.

At the train station we debated with the Tuk Tuk driver about the price. We ended up giving him a fair price and walking off as he complained but it didn't feel very nice. I felt really guilty and was convinced that it was bad karma - I think India is making my conviction in natural justice much worse.

At the station we couldn't see train listed. There were lots of cancellations and even though ours wasn't on the list, we feared the worst. I was convinced that Karma had done a speedy job of catching up with us - especially since our hotel was pretty much the only one in Lucknow and the lady there had recommended the tuk tuk driver.

We asked various people if it was the right station because there are three in Lucknow (three train stations and no bloody cheap hostels!) but no one seemed to know, not even the railway staff. Eventually spoke to a "Tourist Police" officer who told us that it was the right station but on a different line so we had to quick-hop to the building across the road.

Got on the train and '2nd class seated' seemed OK - until more and more people rammed on. Despite being reserved seating it seems people cram on anyway so wasn't the most comfortable journey. Plus, the guy on the bench opposite was ill so his friends had given up their seats so he could lay down. This not only meant that I had to spend 6 uncomfortable hours worrying that he was going to chuck up, we also had to listen to the other passengers complain and argue with them about not being able to sit down.

We arrived at Gorakhpur at 10.30pm and found the bus station around the corner relatively quickly. As we got there, the conductor shouted "Sonauli?" so we were feeling quite lucky to have found the right bus quickly and not have to bed down at the station again.

Unfortunately, despite protests from all sides, the conductor made an elderly lady and a young woman with a baby move out of their seat so that we could sit down. We tried to get the ladies to move back again when he'd gone but they refused, despite continuing to shout at the man every time he came into view for the next few hours.

They did get the last laugh though because we were in the 'front' seat (front to us but not to Indians who cram right up into the driver's cabin) and there was no window in the doorframe so we spent the next three and a half hours fidgetig and trying to avoid freezing to death. We did have aour trusty blanket but it was so big that people kept standing on it and tripping over it and so slidy (bloody sateen fabrics) that it kept slipping off. It never helps either that Matt and I are two wide to sit next to each other on the narrow bus seats.

Day 26 -26th Feb

We woke up around 7.30am, having slept much better than many hostels we've stayed in and went to the train station tourist info centre with low expectations. Unlike Delhi, they were surprisingly useful - which I guess isn't too difficult when there are 3 people working in a service which their signing book seemed to suggest recieves about 3 sets of tourists per day.  They organised a tuk tuk to hostel and gave us some leaflets.

Despite his insistence that the driver knew where it was, we had to stop for directions a few times. This was hardly surprising when there were no signs to say it was the right place  and just bore a little plaque saying "children's newspaper". They gave us breakfast when we went in though so we decided to stay, even though it seemed to be running itself and we couldn't work out who owned it.

It was a pretty weird place.Most of the people at breakfast were staying there long term because they were students. We met a few, very serious, intellectuals who were learning Hindi and Sanskrit and writing PhD  papers so it wasn't quite the same atmosphere as a usual hostel.

We went for a walk and found that the new town was really quite modern compared to a lot of places we'd seen. We bumped into a Dutch/Indian guest from the hotel, Safikom, and decided to stick with her since she was shopping and we wanted an excuse to explore.

After following several conradictory directions given by Indians, we finally got to Janpath market and found it closed. Safikom looked at her map and decided to walk to the "Chowk"  (a market/bazaar). While we were trying to orient ourselves using her map, we were steadily surrounded by an increasing number of people crowding around the map and just joining in looking at it.

We set off and were followed by a number cycle rickshaw wallahs for ages.  They kept telling  us it was quite far and although we didn't believe them and quite fancied a proper walk, they just kept pace with us. Eventually, I told one of them that I'd pedal and he could get in the back. He agreed and I rode most of the way, to the amazement and amusement of passers-by and other rickshaw drivers. Matt even climbed on part-way through. It was really good fun but his seat was sharp,  I was a little concerned about hitting congestion and scraping a car and the last hill was quite a big one, so I gave up and we swopped back. I was glad to see that even the rikshaw guy didn't pedal and pulled us up instead. We offered to pay him (they ought to sell the idea as entertainment - people want to steer elephants and camels to why not rickshaws?) but he refused.

Eventually arrive at Chowk and wander round. Chowk alleys are crazy, they are only just wide enough for two people but motorbikes, over-loaded hand carts and people carrying laods three times their size all tear down it (usually at speed) and it all gets jammed.

We tried some physalis which was amazing. It was like kiwi fruit, strawberry and other lovely fruit all rolled into one. And they tie up the leaves so they look like a bunch of grapes.

Poor Matt wore flip flops as he thought we were going to sit in a park so his feet were getting pretty sore. Since we were with Safikom and she spoke Hindi, we decided to go back in a Tempo - a small shared taxi/large tuk tuk that follows fixed routes. None seemed to go where we wanted so we gave up and went in a tuk tuk - we did see a ladyboy though so all wasn't lost!

Since we hadn't seen a single internet cafe all day, we continued walking past our hostel to one that Safikom had seen the day before. Matt was very brave with his sore feet! We booked train tickets to Gorakhpur as it is on the route to crossing to Nepal. We had to get 2nd class sitting though instead of our usual scruuby but reasonable 'sleeper' so that might be interesting!

Back at the hostel we finally met the owner but still did not sign in. We had some of the communal food and chatted to a German couple who had just come from Nepal to get some tips.

What happens when you don't
apply DEET

Day 25 -25th Feb - Varanasi to Lucknow

We fully intended to go to and see the sun rise over ganges so we got up at 5am. Unfortunately, the hostel doors were locked and the shutters we down so we couldn't get out. We would have tried to wake them up but as we had had to wake up Santosh to get in after the wedding (when he had only told us a few hours before how hard he finds it to sleep) and because the hostel had already offered us a sunrise trip through them, we decided we didn't have the guts and went back to sleep instead.

We had a leisurely wander around the ATMs of Varanasi, trying to find one that would give us some money and bought some fruit and snacks for the journey. Unfortunately, we were mugged by a monkey on the way back and so lost a whole bag of bananas. Matt reckoned I should have just taken one out of the bag and chucked it to him but I maintain he would not have been stupid enough to let us get away with the rest. Anyway, better that the other 10 monkeys that always turn up afterwards fought him and not me.

We took tuk tuk to bus station and, after Matt was laughed at, we finally found someone who was willing to explain where to find the Lucknow bus. It arrived half an hour later and we got on at 3.20ish. After watching various ridiculous cargo being loaded (my favourite was a giant bag of coloured plastic balls that woudn't fit through the door properly), we then got to watch it being unloaded again. The bus finally left at 4.30.
The horn on the bus was so load that we had to wear ear-plugs. It genuinely sounded like someone had fitted it wrong and it was blowing inside the bus. After several bumpy hours though we reached less busy roads and it was much quieter.

At the next stop,  the bus had to go into a workshop and was backed onto a ramp over an inspection pit with everyone still on it. Unfortunately, it turned our to be the most essential part of the bus that was broken - the horn! After a quite lengthy delay, during which most of the passengers got out and had a nosey, the bus was fixed and back to her previous noisy self.

By this time the bus was very late. This didn't seem to worry the driver or bus conductor though and they were soon stopping again for a full cooked meal while we all waited. Our '6 hour' bus journey lasted 12 hours and left me with pretty horrendous mosquito bites. We were so relieved to arrived at the bus station at 2am.

Unfortunately, the bus station turned out to not be in Lucknow and the hostel phone number just returned "network is busy" . There were no rickshaw drivers clamouring for business and we had to go and search a few out. None of them seemed to know where Lucknow was so we were starting to get a bit anxious. The enquiry desk at the station said there was a bus to Lucknow at 6am but we were very cold huddled up on a bench (even with all of our blankets) and so decided to try and head to a train station where we hoped there were 'retiring rooms' and more knowledgeable tuk tuk drivers. Tourist accomodation in Lucknow was very expensive and there was ony one guesthouse we could find in our pricebracket on-line so we wanted to try and get there eventually.

We got to the station ok. As usual, every square inch of the foyer and much of the platforms were covered in sleeping bodies. We weren't surprised to find there were no retiring rooms were available. The corridoor where they were was quiet and secure and we were so knackered that we slept undisturbed on the floor there for a few hours.

Day 24 - 24th Feb

After a lazy morning and confirmation that we could change the flight we went for lunch at a place called Ayyah Cafe, which had the look of a greasy spoon but with it's own Indian characteristics. Matt discovered that he does quite like masala dosa after all which made him happier.

We spent most of the afternoon just wandering around the maze of markets in the backstreets. Everywhere seemed to be gearing up for Holi and almost every stall was filled with mounds of colourful paint powder, sparkly banners, hats and general party goods and a huge array of dangerous looking water guns.

We wound our way to the ganges and decided to take a boat ride so we could see the evening ceremony without the hassle of being by the riverside. Amost immediately, the boatman took us to another boat where they tried to sell us a plate of flowers and candles to put in the river. We refused it but we impressed by how well we unintentionally knocked down the asking price from 200rupees to 20!

We watched the evening ceremony for a while and wondered how they muster the energy to perform with the necesarry enthusiasm and fanfare when they have to do it every day, then rowed to one of the burning ghats and watched the cremation proceedings. We stayed here for ages as it was really fascinating and not as gruesome as I expected. It was actually really calming and the rituals involved are very respectful. It felt much better watching it from the boat too as women do not normally attend the ceremonies. This is mainly because they used to throw themselves on the fire of their husbands but aso because any tears can effect how the soul ascends.

Back at hostel we chatted to some English/Irish girls and giggled at some of the shaps they'd had. They had had even more people wanting to take their photos (for obvious reasons!)and it had got so ridiculous that the police had to instruct them not to agree to any more when they were at the Taj Mahal. Interestingly to us, they had also got trapped in the Delhi 'Government Tourist Office' but had agreed to take a trip. It all went a bit wrong when a communication breakdown nearly meant that they were made to fly to Kashmir!

There was a Bengali wedding going on around the corner so we all went and got ourselves invited to that. It was really interesting (if not awkward of course) to meet the bride and witness some of the rituals (like the groom not being allowed to let his feet touch the ground as he was meant to be in 'heaven') but they weren't as forthcoming with the food and dancing so we didn't stay as long.

Day 23 - 23rd Feb

Got up early and went to see if we could have our actual room yet. Some Europeans were refusing to check out early even though they were ready and could see we were waiting  so we walked down the ganges, taking in the sights and smells. Matt fell for the 'shake your hand and trap you into a massage' routine and literally had to peel the guy off him and run away. The guy had already massaged his hand and arm though and Matt sait it was the best it had felt in ages.

 It was already quite hot by 9am and beginning to get busy. People were bathing in the river and washing their clothes. We didn't consider going in as the riverside buildings also seemed to have their sewage outlets running over the 'pavement' and into the water too.

We got offered umpteen boat rides, hashish and several cobra viewings but declined them all politely.

We wandered around the streets of Varanasi for a while, including a wrong turn into a street entirely dedicated to breeding, raising, killing, plucking and gutting chickens in the baking heat. The guidebooks were right about how hectic it was but it wasn't as dirty as many places we've seen.

Monkey on our balcony

Back at the hostel we stood outside and ate some of the fruit we had bought. This quickly attracted a monkey -  then 8 more followed. Sunny faced them off for us but don't think I'll be standing up for myself to many monkeys.

Chatted to Sunny for a while (Europeans still refusing to move) and he told us that the place where the guy had died was Yogi Lodge, the hostel that we had enquired about on the phone from Delhi. He said that maybe that is why he was a little snappy on the phone!

Finally in our room we caught up some days on blog and tried to relax a little. There was a small balcony ourside our room but it was only facing the next buiding. which was less than a foot away and was all caged off to stop the monkeys coming in. The monkeys were still spitting distance from my eyes so didn't bother risking rabies.

In the evening we decided to attend the ceremonies at the Ganges. We walked along as far as one the burning ghats (where they burn dead bodies and commit them to the river) but couldn't just stand and take it all in because there was a guy trying to talk to us and tell us info. When we tried to escape him he hassled us probably more than anyone has hassled us before and demanded a 'donation' to help pay for the funerals of people who couldn't afford it. It sounded like a reasonable cause (although burning bodies next to the ganges on fires needing 700kg of wood with several kg of very expensive sandalwood is not the funeral that everyone achieves) but he would not back off and was getting more and more aggressive in his tone and spiritual threats for our eternal damnation that even Matt got angry.

Must check for shadows..

We sat and tried to relax by the river for a while, just watching everyone go past on boats and the candles floating over the water. Before we left, we were invited to have a chat with  Ganesh baba, who told us about his life and rituals - basically a combination of sitting, praying, washing, yoga and hashish smoking. He was one the the few 'babas' who did not seem to want to make money from tourists for being a 'baba'.

We missed the cermemony near the main ghat but very much got caught in the crowds of literally thousands of people walking up Luxa Road afterwards. This was madness. There were market stalls on either side the road, as well tuks tuks, mopeds and cars all trying to push their way through the narrow streets.

When we finaly arrived back at the hostel we looked into changing our flight out of Nepal so that it left a week later and spent more time talking to Sunny and his dad. They confirmed the date of Holi festival for us and were adamant that we should stay in until lunchtime. For me, it was because the morning was the men's time and women should not be allowed. For Matt it was because he would not return with his clothes! Apparently, after noon it will all be ok but we will try book a room in Kathmandu which has some sort of balcony so we can watch from a safe distance.

Matt went to bed and I chatted with really nice French people who have a similar route to what we are taking. It was very pleasent to have a general chat with them instead of having the usual backpacker conversation.

Day 22 - 22nd Feb

Arrived at 4am at Delhi Sarai Rohilla and, even though the ticket office was and they had a sign saying that tickets for all Delhi stations were available, they refused to let us buy one.

We took a rickshaw to Delhi at 5.30 and waited for tourist office to open at 8am. There were only us there to begin with but in a couple of hours there was wuite a big queue waiting for it to open.

Inside it was absolutely chaotic as the queueing cultures of so many different countries collided. Combined with the Indian ethic of doing exactly what you ask but nothing more, it was quite a frustrating process.
The guy at the desk told us that there were no tickets left for the one we wanted to get and so we would have to get one for tomorrow. We resigned ourselves to staying in Delhi another evening and were about to leave when we heard someone book a ticket to Varanasi today. We spoke to the lady at the tourist info desk in the same room and pushed back in the queue to the ticket issuer. He told us that if that was what we wanted, we should have asked for it and that it wasn't a very good train but if we wanted to change it we could do so for 150 rupees.

We went away to think about it for a second and decided that even with a 5 hour wait in the station, another 13 hour train journey and an arrival time at 2am in a new city, it was still preferable to another night in Delhi. We went back to the man but those tickets had also gone and so it cost us an extra 1000 rupees to get 3AC instead of sleeper.

To pass the time, we went back to our old hostel and used their internet but got kicked out just as we tried to book accomodation for Varanasi. Moved to other place but now the hostel we wanted was 'locked out'. Tried to get somewhere else called  'Yogi lodge' but when we called to ask if a 2am arrival time was ok, the man was very gruff. He told us that rickshaw drivers would try to take us to the fake 'Yogi Lodge' but that he could pick us up for 250 rupees. We didn't like the sound of this and waited to see if the one we wanted, 'Sagar guesthouse', would come up again. It did, and the very nice, softly-spoken  man on the phone offered to pick us up for free if we called him before we got there.

The train was busy and when we got to our seats, there were already 4  adults, 2 kids and lots of luggage crammed in small space. It was quite a jostle to get settled but generally it was quieter - or at least the noises were less annoying -  than sleeper class. It was also quite a bit cleaner and the toilet had soap, which was much needed since pressing the flush button poured water all over your hands.

I didn't get much sleep because our station wasn't the last stop and I was scared of ending up in a city we didn't want to be in with no way of getting a train back, but at least there wasn't mobile phone music blaring out. In fact, crying children made a pleasent change.

Once at the station, we called the hostel and waded our way through the hundreds of sleeping bodies taking up the whole of the station foyer to wait for our driver. Prakash arrived to rescue us from the increasing mob of rickshaw drivers and took us for a cup of tea before we drove to the hostel.

At the hostel we met Sunny and his father. They were hoping to give us a room on arrival but told us that they now didn;t have any spare space because a German guy had died at the hostel around the corner and the police had insisted they put the remaining tenants up. It was a suspected drug overdose and 2 people from the hostel were apparently being questioned regarding leaving him when they knew he'd had a bad reaction.

We were taken to new building that Sunny had bought  just around the corner in order to 'rest'. It was under refurbishment and we slept on a table covered with a blanket.  It was better than some of the hostels we've seen and did have a surprisingly clean toilet so it wasn't too bad at all.

Day 21 - 21st Feb

I got up early and packed so that I could join Jodie for the yoga class she had found. It was really good and the first decent yoga class I had ever attended. The guy explained everything really well and helped us get into the right positions. He made money from yoga classes and used it to help different social and animal charities. He apparently has a Facebook account with you can find under 'Raiba House', Udaipur if anyone (Claire and Eve?) is interested. I've not looked at it but he says there are loads of pictures and advice on there.

After a quick breakfast we left Matt at the hostel and went to the cooking class. The woman who ran it, Shaishi was quite incredible. She lost her husband when he was 32 and they had 2 young children. She had to complete a year of mourning where she could not leave the house for 12 whole months. For the first 45 days she had to get up at sunrise and sit in the corner and cry. Throughout the day, different women would visit and cry wiith her until, at sunset, she could get up and take a little food.

After those first days, she had no way to support her children and, due to being from the Brahmin caste, she was only allowed to do more professional jobs such as secretary or teacher. She secretly starting taking in laundry and doing it behind locked doors. After the mourning period was over she had to stop and again had to find a new way of making money. Her sons had befriended some English guys who had complimented her cooking and told her she ought to start teaching other people. She did not speak English so they started to help her.

Her first class was with 2 Australians and, because she still had very little English but were impressed by the course, they helped her by writing up the recipes in English and word processing them. The next couple were French (I think!) and they helped her to create a website. After several years, she now speaks good English and is the number 1 cookery course on trip advisor.

She started by talking us through the recipes and helping us to make notes. She then taught us how to make chai and pakoras. The pakoras were fantastic and we stuffed ourselves silly. After that, we moved on to making corander chutney, mango chutney, a base masala which we used for making aloo gobi, malai kofta, vegetable pilau, local cheese, paneer, naan with cheese and tomato, chapatti, plain parantha, stuffed parantha and sweet parantha.

4 hours later we were sat down with all of this wonderful food in front of us and absolutely no room in our stomachs to put it. We received our jangly graduation bracelets and a keyring elephant and some goody bags to pack up the food and take it to 'my husband'. Something that turned out to be not much of a success when curry sauce leaks out of a bag that been fastened with staples!

We said our goodbyes at the hostel and headed to the train station, hoping to buy our tickets for the Delhi - Udaipur leg of the journey. After waiting in in the queue at 3 different windows we still couldn't book a ticket so had to just jump on the 5.15pm train to Delhi and resolve to do what we could when we got to the other end.

Journey was restless but uneventful.

Day 20 - 20th Feb - Udaipur

We spent some time in the morning looking at options for where we were going to travel next and got chatting to Jodie, a sunny and enthusiastic Canadian girl.

Since Matt and I were only staying for one day, we took a tour together. The driver, Firaz took us to a market and explained lots of the things we saw there. He even taught us the actual price of fruit and veg.
He took us around the different lakes - some of which would have been very pretty was it not for the layer of scum and rubbish that floated at the edges. People stood around the periphery washing themselves and their clothes.

As well as a few camera shops, Firaz took us to the cenotaphs of the local royal family and told us to ignore the signs to tell visitors to take off their shoes and that photos weren't allowed as we were going to bribe the security man with 10 rupees each.

He then took us to some quite nice gardens built by Maharaja Sanram Singh for his wife and her friends and servents. It had lots of little fountains that were constructed in the days before electrity and was gravity-fed from the purpose-built lake above. There were lots of pretty flowers but Matt spent most of his time there bargaining for camera stuff before the man he was bargaining with got bored and started selling to someone else.

Jodie and I needed the loo and discovered the joys of multiple squat toilets without any dividing sections, just three squat loos side-by-side. It was the second time I'd seen it but this time the one individual toilet was too disgusting to even step inside. We took it in turns to guard the door against the growing queue of impatient Indian women while we precariously avoided the piles of poo that we all in the wrong places.
The last lake we visitied was very nice though and we tried to go on a pedal boat but they wouldn't go and fetch them from the middle of the lake so instead tried to persuade us to take the more expensive option. We walked around it instead.

A point of interest about Udaipur: the James Bond film, Octopussy was filmed there and many of the hotels still had nightly showings. We didn't see one.

Back near the hostel, Rizwan (the hotel owner) offered to buy the camera that Matt liked as he might be able to get it cheaper than us and we took a walk into the city and debated whether or not to visit the city palace - the second biggest in India. This turned out to be not such a great thing when we had to trudge around it in weather that was now getting very hot. We didn't understand much of what we saw but really enjoyed getting to know Jodie and asking her endless questions about Canada and her job at in real estate.
On our way back to the hostel we were harrassed by a dog that really didn't seem very happy to see us.
Back on the rooftop, Matt inspected his new camera and we chatted to a really helpful South American couple. They gave us lots of advice about visiting South America and the girl Natalie, told us about an excellent cooking course she'd done that day.

One of the things I really wanted to do on my travels was learn to cook in the different countries and so Jodie and I went to find Shashi's cooking school as she wasn't answering the phone. When we got there she was on the balcony, watching the Shiva celebrations.  She told us that she had already turned down 6 people for the following day as it was a holiday but we must have looked so pathetic that she agreed to teach us.

On the way back we came across the dog again. We tried to find a different way and came across a family who advised us there was no other way through. This time though, the dog was more determines and it followed us quite a lot further. The family told us to throw stones but didn't actually come to help so we weren't so convinced. We ended up calling Rizwan to come and help us and lead us back in safety.
Rizwan was a really nice guy and had a very dry sense of humour. He was hilarious but we couldn't always tell of he was joking. He invited us to 'have a chai party' and entertained us by setting us puzzles about swimming ants and teasing me about the 'musical competition' and 'fireworks' - which I eventually worked out was about farting!

Matt tried to sort train tickets with a very slow computer connection while I played with starws with Rizwan's little girl. We got the tickets to Delhi sorted but there were only tickets left in the tourist quota for getting to Varanasi so we may have to go to train station for those.

Day 19 - 19th Feb - Mount Abu - Udaipur

Since we  still had our not-so-good camera and I'd stopped refusing to take picures because I was sulking so much about lost one, we retraced some of our steps from first day to  get some photos of the lake and from Toad Rock.

Even though they were both guiding in the morning, Narayan and Dalpat rushed back to take us to the bus station... on their mopeds. At least Dalpat had had his fixed but I very much wished there was someone there to take a picture of us. I was fortunate and had the spare wheel to balance my bag on but would have liked to have set off second so I could have seen Matt and his back teetering on the back of a Vespa which was crawling up a very steep hill.

It was really hard to say goodbye. We feel very lucky to have stumbled across such caring, honest people. Their generosity and kindness was unlimited and they welcomed us as friends. They were a different breed of people to many that we have met in India and we learned a lot from spending time with them. Our goodbye to ND was quite short because he had to go and eat lunch before his afternoon job but Dalpat stayed around to see us off. He  went to buy us water and came back with a bag of fruit too so we'd have something to eat on the journey but refused to let us pay for it.

The journey down the mountain was stunning. It was so beautiful and soon looked so remote that it was hard to imagine that a community lived at the summit. The views were quite spectacular but it was difficult to capture on camera due to the perilous nature of the  roads and the suicidal driving skills.

Arrived Udaipur and got to lovely,clean guesthouse. They even had a toilet roll, towels and a little collection of goodies such as soap and a little pot of moisturiser. The first decent hot shower we'd had in weeks was heaven.

They also had (very slow) wifi so, after lots of faffing, we even managed a skype conversation with my family. Really enjoyed being able to see them and chat though it does make me miss them even more.

Day 18 - 18th Feb - Mount Abu

We slept a little later than usual and looked around the town at a few cameras. While wandering round we saw Harsh with an Italian guy, Francesco, who was looking for a room.  We told him that the guesthouse came highly recommended and told him it would be nice if he joined us after he's looked.

Matt and I sat and read for a while in the gardens next to the lake. We seem to have become more of a tourist attraction ourselves and more people than ever are asking for a photo with us, or even serrupticiously trying to snap us when they think we haven't noticed.

Francesco came to meet us and after a chat, we told told him that we had been meaning to visit the 'Spiritual University' as the Iranian/British woman had said that it was really interesting and we wanted to know more about the hoardes of European looking people wearing white roobes who were constantly circling the lake. We had assumed that it was some sort of expensive retreat where people go to find themselves for a small fortune and wanted to have a nosey.

The complex of buildings of the university were exceptionally grand, pretty and clean and they did tours so we got to have a look around and see the massive lecture hall. The main practice there was Raja Yoga Meditation and the whole thing was dedicated to promoting peace, with institutions world wide. It was funded by Unesco and all of the courses that they offered were free.
We decided to speak to someone to find out more about the courses. Since we're in India and India is all about spirituality, it felt like it might be a cool thing to do. Francesco had also applied for an ashram so he was quite interested too.

We were taken for a 'lesson' with Sister Gita. Her role was to make clear what it was all about but after umpteen back-to-back metaphors, it was starting to get a little repetetive. As she was explaining, she kept stopping to ask us for responses but in that really annoying way where she was forcing us to reply but there was only one answer and we had to get it right. When we didn't give the answer she wanted, she pushed forward with her point anyway. We started to get quite frustrated and the hour that she was talking was really dragging.

She offered us a cup of tea while we thought about whether it was for us. We quite fancied a cuppa so we let her take us to another part of the complex where there was a big canteen and loads of people in white. We had a cup of tea  She introduced us to a lady who told us her story. She had tried various religions at different parts of her life and eventually found that this type of philosophy and way of teaching suited her best. She now volunteered full-time at the head office in London. She told us the process that she had undergone to get to this stage and kept saying that she had not 'surrendered' straight away but had slowly let go go other parts of her life until she felt she was ready to 'surrender' completely.

We were offered to be able to stay and watch in our native language but politely declined. Francesco was offered the chance to watch an Italian film and speak more to the Italian speaking teacher and, even though we were sure he'd said no, he seemed to go along with them anyway.

We told them we would be interested in learning more and agreed to go the following day for our 'lesson' because we wanted a smooth exit. However, the terminology and approach made Matt and myself rather uncomfortable so we sent Sister Gita a message after we had left to say that it wasn't for us. She was surprisingly fine about it. In many ways it would have been quite interesting and it had lots of good philosophies but we weren't entirely comfortable.

That night, we caught up with ND and Dalpat for our last night in Mount Abu and had a campfire amongst the rocks. Now, every form of transport in India is crowded - you very often see cars with 7 people squashed in the back or 3 lads and a goat on a pushbike or a couple with a baby and a toddler on a motorbike but somehow, me, Matt and a skinny kid crushed onto a scooter seemed the most comical of all. The scooter reached a top speed of a speedy sloth at most points and just felt embarrassing. Nevertheless, it was a pretty spot,  the sky was really beautiful and it was one of the lad's birthdays so was a good chance to take some more pictures. It was a very nice way to spend a last evening with Dalpat and ND.

If anyone is interested in learning more about the work they do with educating tribal girls, visit their website

Day 17 - 17th Feb - Mount Abu

We checked out of Shri Ganesh under a cloud of bad feeling since the owner wasn't pleased about us moving on. We were grateful for the effort he'd made the first night but it was the first time we'd used the guidebook to find accommodation and it was clear that standards had dropped since Lonely Planet had visited.

Without the usual pestering of tuks tuks, we hufted our bags down the hill and around the lake to get the Lake Residency guesthouse - stopping only to refuse the one brave trolley pushing guy who offered to take us. We were immediately so much happier. The guesthouse was nestled amongst the rocks and our room opened out into the pretty garden.

We popped up to the roof terrace, had a chat with the Iranian mother and daughter who lived in Britain and gaped at the story of the daughter's first trip to India. In short, she'd had bed bugs, been ripped off and then got sandwiched on a very long bus journey between 2 old guys who touched her as bits of the bus roof fell on her head. When she challenged them, one of them just started to touch himself - and all within her first 24 hours. She said it was a great story to tell but she went on to fall in love with India and visited it often.

We walked up to Dalpat's to start sorting out the police report but he'd been called out on a last-minute guiding job so we read by the lake for a bit and took a wander through the town.

We stopped for some lunch at a restaurant and then felt bad because the kid that worked there had to wake the owner/chef up because he was sleeping behind the counter. The food was really good but we felt more guilty that we didn't want much. Our stomachs  seem to have shrunk quite a lot and neither of us can eat very much any more.

As we walked through the markets we started being followed by a dog. It was the scabbiest thing with a bald-patch around a section of its tail which was almost in the style of a show-poodle and it  couldn't walk far before having to stop and have a really good scratch, but it really seemed to like us. We didn't feed it or pet it or anything but it followed us everywhere we went and when it did go in front of us, stopped to let us catch up. I became almost convinced that it was a kind of tatty Lassie and was trying to lead us to the camera.

Just before I got too carried away with my fantasies we bumped into Dalpat, who was trying to help a friend sort out the bank account of his dead mother. He said his guiding was done for the day and so we could meet him back at his house to write the report.

The style of report was quite strange - a combination between the detailed facts of myself and the camera and a letter begging forgiveness for bothering the police. I went with Dalpat to print it out, photocopy my passport and visa at a shop and submit it at the police station. Since his bike was having problems and most of it was uphill, we had to stop to borrow some guys motorbike. The changing of transport on the way to the police station had made me feel like some sort of criminal mastermind so I was feeling a bit giggly by the time we reached the station.

The police soon put a stop to that. Like lots of men in India, they stand around in groups pretending that they're a re really busy and looking quite mean. Every time they spoke to each other they sounded like they were having an argument and I felt my lower status as a woman (and of course, a camera-losing police-bothering moron). Dalpat had suggested that I go instead of Matt because they were generally more respectful with female tourists so I can't imagine what they'd have been like wiith him.  After a fair amount of barking, at me and each other, the formalities were completed and we left.

We spent another evening around the campfire at Dalpat's house with ND and a couple of other friends of theirs. We had a real laugh, a few glasses of rum, and food cooked by Dalpat's mum and his air force friend's wife - which was delivered to us by motorbike. We met Dalpat's wife and she was very meek and sweet. Due to the tensions of their marriage, she had agreed to never show her face to his mother so when his mum even stepped outside she but her scarf over her face.

We stayed until we were tired and headed down the street to our nice clean bed.

Day 16 - 16th Feb - Mount Abu

What a welcome relief to be in Mount Abu. As we walked around it seemed so much more beautiful, peaceful and clean than anywhere we'd seen so far. We wandered around the lake admiring the view of the mountains beyond and came across a sign for Toad rock. We climbed the many steps to get to it and it was worth every bead of sweat. The rock itself looked more like a dinosaur to me and a turtle's head to Matt but we still very much enjoyed perching on it and admiring the scenery.

We spent quite a lot of time chatting to a pair of lovely kids, Narayane and Rajan, who attended an English language medium school. They were currently on their winter holiday for 3 months and so were helping out selling refreshments on the plateau near the rock.

We continued our walk around the lake. Mount Abu is a little like a British seaside resort with a big lake instead of the sea and no arcades or chippys. There weren't many white tourists there but seemed to be a lot of Indian ones, milling about, buying candy floss and pedalling boats. There were no tuks tuks at all. This cut down on noise and pollution quite dramatically but the alternatives of horseback or ancient old man pulling a 'Radio Flyer' type cart weren't exactly appealling so we were pleased that it was quite a small place.

We wandered around the lake and took a road a little further out of the main town, where we saw huge expanses of white fabric layed over the rocks to dry in the sun. We stopped to take a photo of this with the river in the foreground and toad rock in the background. Further on we came across 'Honeymoon Point', a collection of outcrops with stunning vistas across the plains. It was absolutely incredible to walk past lots of rocks and hills and suddenly come across a view of such an  immense and flat area. It was at this point that we realised we did not have the camera any more.

We checked the  various areas of Honeymoon Point and then rushed back to where we knew we'd last had it but it was not there. After another check at honeymoon point we had to concede that it was gone. It was such a mood killer. We'd been really happy and content and relaxed for the first time in a few weeks and it was all over so quickly.

We asked several people and handed out our number on the way back into town in the hope that someone would contact us if they knew anything. It was a long shot but better than doing nothing.  We tried going to the police station and reporting it but it was a struggle to make them understand and to even take my number so we didn't have a chance of reporting it properly.

Then we tried to search out camera shops where someone might take it to sell it and asked if they sold second-hand cameras. We were in a shop looking an new cameras when we met Harsh, who told where there was another camera shop. He then offered to help us ask around around in the local language and said that his brother could help us file a police report if we didn't have any luck. We had nothing to lose and so decided to trust him. On the way, he told us about his work as a guide taking trips in the mountains to look at wildlife in order to make money for a movement that educates tribal girls.

Harsh took us to his brother, Narayan (ND), who was a really interesting guy. He was an animator, an academic, a founder member of the movement and was writing a book about the caste system. He explained that it was best to have another look in the bushes just in case someone had hidden it to come back to later. Matt's torch collection came in handy again but the search was fruitless.

ND said he'd look again in daylight but that it was probably best going to meet is friend who could help with the police report, Dalpat. At Dalpat's we were brought chai by 'mummy' and spent the evening sat around the fire, chatting and listening. They told us more about the 'movement' to help 'tribal' girls and about their experiences guiding. Dalpat told stories of guiding for eminent people such as the UK High Commissioner to India, various Indian government officials and Tom Cruise. He showed us a file of appreciation letters that he'd received and regaled us with hilarious tales.

We discussed the pressure Narayan was under to get any government job, no matter what it was or how it compromised his many talents, to please his family. Watching ND and Dalpat debate was like watching a tennis match. After Narayan had gone, he told us his background, his marriage to a tribal woman despite being high cast himself and his aspirations and we listened open-mouthed and astounded as he told an epic tale you could probably place somewhere between The Kite Runner and Shantaram.

We could have stayed all night but since we were under curfew, we had to rush back to our guesthouse for 10.30 curfew. Since Mount Abu contains bears, panthers, crocodiles and leapords, we guessed it was for our own safety so that they knew to raise the alarm. Just as we arrived, there was a wedding procession right outside our hotel. Weddings go on for several days but this section seems to involve driving a loudspeaker through the streets on a jeep while people follow and dance. It was the second one we'd been caught in  (though neither of us can remember when the first one was) but they were particularly persistent this time and actually managed to drag Matt in. Whenever Matt escaped I was caught up and whenever I escaped, Matt was surrounded. At least I don't mind throwing myself about a bit and waving my arms but poor Matt looked very confused and unsure.

When we did break free and get to our room, the toilet smelled so bad we struggled to sleep and vowed to leave in the morning.

Day 15 - 15th Feb- Jodhpur - Mount Abu

As we's heard that the fort was really nice, we broke our 'no more forts' rule and headed up the very steep hill towards the Mehrangarh fort.

On the way, we were stopped by a man who had a large collection of currency from all over the world and wanted some English notes. We get asked this a lot but the smallest English note is quite a few rupees so we're too tight to part from them.

He showed us the guestbook from his hostel, which incuded gems such as: "from Hollywood to Bollywood, the best food is in Thaliwood" and "Uncommonly crispy toast". We decided that some crisy toast would be a real treat and were tempted inside to the rooftop terrace. The toast took ages to come but we passed the time by watching a kid ride his bike around the top of the 4 story building.

Further up the hill, Matt met his nemesis - a man with an even more hair and a very big beard. We discussed the difficulties of transporting such facial hair around India due the the attention that it attracts.

The fort admission included an audio tour and, despite our reservations, it was absolutely fantastic. We spent several hours wandering around and looking at the different rooms and exhibits. There was an extra charge for taking pictures but, since we had expected the fort to look like all of the ther others, we decided photos wouldn't be necessary. Once we were in there though, we followed the crowds also taking sneaky photos and got some great shots.

Back at the hostel, we booked our sleeper bus tickets through Imran and set off into the city to find an omlette man we had heard about, called Vicky.  While we were at his stall, he gave us one of the 19 'guestbooks' he has collected over the last 10 years to take a look at. People really do rave about omlettes.
After watching to world go by for a while, we took a wander around the extensive bazarre. There was little hassle and we really enjoyed taking it all in. We even bought more blankets for laying on - something I felt was quite necessary ever since I mopped up a small water spillage on a train seat and noticed the colour of the tissue. These blankets we much more in the lrid style preferred by Indians and were closer to the kind of thing we were looking for before. At about £1 each they were also an absolute bargain.

Back at the hostel again, I spent a little time talking to Imran - we discussed lots of things about family obligation and personal freedom and how his parents desires impact his life and choices. It was really interesting and I've thought about it quite a lot since.

The tuk tuk arrived to take us to the bus station and dropped us off at the booking office for Jain travels. We were expecting our bus to come there but when a tiny little ramshackle bus turned up, everyone seemed to cram on it in Indian style - the fastest and  sharpest elbowed wins - and we were left standing. The little bus turned out to be the transport to the big bus and since we only had 10 more minutes until our sleeper, we were a little concerned.

We arrived 15 mins late and there were a number of buses on the wasteland of the tourist bus-stop. Some looked quite spanky and new but we were directed towards one that looked very shabby, battered and nothing like the picture in the shop. In fact, since it was parked next to a burnt our car, we could have been forgiven for thinking that this was the scrapyard section.  We needn't have worried about the time though 'cos it was a while before it set off.

The whole thing was nothing short of mental.The buses don't have any names or numbers on so we just have to hope that the bus-driver isn't just agreeing with us when we ask. An answer in the affirmative is characterised by a side-to-side head wobble which we associate more with 'maybe' or uncertainty and that is so deeply ingrained into us we never feel sure anyway.

There seemed to be nowhere to put our bags and so we had to take them on the bus with us, which was quite reassuring until we realised that that meant keeping them in our already rather 'cosy' bed. The double beds themselves were suspended half way up the bus with seats underneath, and were accessed by sliding a window across and climbing in. The opposing window (the one on the outside of the bus) also slid open in exactly the same manner and so it was perfectly possible for it to slide open mid-journey and deposit the sleeper on the pavement at stupid-miles-per-hour. There were curtains blocking a view of us from the inside but none on the outside so we were in full view of anyone who passed by in a similar bus or looked out of a window.
We were still giggling about the whole thing when the bus set off. Almost immediately it stopped again at a junction and we both bashed our heads against the next cubicle. By the time it turned a corner, we were both in stiches as we were rolled over flat onto our faces. Matt tried to sit up again but flung himself back down as the window was hit by a tree and made an almighty crack.

I giggled myself to sleep and somehow slept quite deeply for a while, despite the fact that I  had to have my legs curled up due to the bags, the beeping was incessant and it generally felt like riding a bucking bronco.  I did wake up at one point really panicked because I realised I'd almost managed to straighten one my legs and therefore at least one of the big bags had gone. When I sat up I noticed that the window on the inside of the bus was open so assumed we'd been robbed. Fortunately not. The window had just rattled itself open on the mountain pass and the bag had fallen out, narrowly missing the bloke on the bottom single bunk on the other side. I felt grateful that it only happened on the inside window and Matt was still safely by my side. I was also pretty relieved that it was dark because the perilous speed and maneouvres the bus achieved would probably have scared us both witless if we could have seen the drop.

We arrived 4.30 am, igonored the touts and taxis as we felt quite smug we knew where the hostel was, and then had to walk for ages looking for it. We had to wake up a man sleeping outside, who woke up man inside , who then checked us in. I went to look at the room as Matt looked over the bags (apparently I'd be the picky one - as if!) but found the man rather strange as he appeared to blow me a kiss so I headed quickly back downstairs and asked to see a different room. I later asked the owner what the gesture meant in case I'd misinterpreted it. He told me 'sweetness'. When I told him that his worker had done it to me, he told me I'd misinterpreted it! Either way, the second room was slightly less stinky than the first and we were tired and unsure of our chances of finding somewhere else so we went to bed and locked the door.

Day 14 - 14th Feb -Jodhpur

We were going to just get up and explore Jodhpur ourselves but instead got talked into a 'Village Safari'. We were given the impression that it was a way to really see what life is like in rural India. On our way to the jeep I was recognised in the street by a man building a road who must have been at the wedding. Now I truly am famous.

We went with a Russian guy called Alex, Leo and a French couple called Thomas and Virginia who were in their last two weeks of their own year-long trip. On the way we spotted a number of wild animals, including a couple of types of antelope.

Our first stop was the site of an execution/sacrifice of 363 Bishnoi people in 1730 because of the Khejri tree. I can't explain as well as I'd like to at this time of night so here's an axtract from http://bishnois.wordpress.com/

So it is told, the Maharaja of the area had plans to build a princely palace and needed a substantial quantity of firewood to produce lime.  He sent forth his forces to a large population of Khejri trees, in Khejarli, to cut them down.  Amrita Devi, a loyal Bishnoi mother versed in the teachings of Jambhoji, faced the soldiers and proclaimed that anyone wishing to cut a tree would have to first cut through her.  Weaponless in her protection of the trees, it is said that she hugged the nearest Khejri, forcing the axe-wielding soldiers to cut through her neck.  Incensed at the loss of tree and fellow compatriot, villagers came from all around to face the Maharaja’s army.  By the end of the massacre, 363 Bishnois had given their lives in sacrifice to save green trees.  Appalled at the situation and overwhelmed by the dedication of the villagers, the Maharaja passed a decree legally protecting green trees, which stands to this day.  Furthermore, it is highly likely that the term ‘tree hugger’ originated 280 years ago when Amrita Devi demonstrated a mother’s love for our hero, the Khejri tree.

This site was a really peaceful place but the monument was locked up. There were peacocks and antelope wandering about - being followed by the snap-happy Alex who didn't stop to listen to the tale.

Opium tea? Why not.

Next we moved on to a 'Bishnoi village' - which appeared to consist of just one man and his family. The Bishnoi have a strict principle of protecting all animals and the environment and many work long and exhausting days. Opium is still really important in Bishnoi religion but is now outlawed in India. They are allowed to use it but they are not allowed to grow it so are forced to buy it.

When we arrived, the man performed a traditional opium tea ceremony. Sitting on a camel-hair carpet, the man, curly whiskered and quite impressive in his crisp white outfit (including a 12metre long turban), sat crossed legged before a small wooden contraption comprising two strainers, two beautifully carved wooden urns, a pestle and a small metal container holding water.

He dug deep into the hidden folds of his shirt and produced a piece of opium, about the size of a lump of sugar. The opium was bound with sugar to form a solid lump - as much from the need to make it cheape than because of the indian taste for super-sweet tea.

He then went through a complicated process of straining and mixing until he was satisfied with it. The 'tea' is traditionally taken in the cupped hand and drunk from the palm.

The guide made a big deal to us about how poor these people were, and despite evidence to the contrary in his wife's colourful and elaborate clothes and her clear taste for gold jewellery, Matt and I left a big tip. Just before the next truck-load of tourists turned up and we were quickly ferried away.

Next we were taken to the guide's house for lunch and to see how camel-hair carpets (famed for their resiliance and the fact they never need washing) were made. Lunch was served in round hut with a straw roof and we watched a woman patiently make chapattis and cook them on the fire.

Next, we were taken to a nearby outbuilding where the guide's brother quickly explained how the carpets were made and then offered us a range of them to buy. We were quickly getting the measure of this tour and politely declined. Alex did express some interest as he was planning on possibly starting a business, to accompany the one he already has a speciaist 'dog apparel'.

After that we were taken to another house where they made pots and other clay goods. There were piles of identical pieces, all stacked up perfectly an reaching way above our heads. We were shown how to make pots and then asked if we wanted a go. Since the French people were clearly getting annoyed and since we all knew what was coming after, I volunteered to give it a go - if we were going to have a thinly veiled tour of shops, I was going to have some fun. Despite the man's clear instructions, my attempts were rather feeble and the results were quite pathetic, though it was kinda fun.

We were asked whether we wanted to go to a recycling place but when he guide explained it further, it was a recycled textiles factory. Now, the mention of 'textiles' normally fills anyone who's been in India for more than a couple of days with dread and a deep-seated need to flee, but majority ruled and we gave it a bash.

After a cursory look at where the textiles were made and a quick explanation, we were then seated in a room and subjected to a parade of articles from bedclothes to scarves, accompanied with the usual mantra: 'very cheap, very good quality'. None of us were interested in buying (except maybe Alex) but the French guys chatted and giggles amongst themselves and dared to challenge the prices. After getting rather exasperated at their insistence that identical items were available in Europe much more cheaply, the guy in factory was very sharp with a guide and was clearly telling him to get us out of there.

The guide was rather sulky on the way back and dropped us off in the middle of town rather than at the hostel. Everyone seemed a bit rattled and so we mostly ended up going in different directions -though Matt and I soon bumped into Alex again as we struggled to find our way back to the hostel.

After a chat with Alex and a discussion of his dual Moscow and Toronto lifestye, I switched on the boiler in our bathroom so the water would warm up for a shower and went to the internet cafe. I was widhed 'Happy Valentines Day' by strangers and had my hand shaken a number of times.

 I was joined shortly after by Matt, who told me that he was pretty pleased that he hadn't used the bathroom as the heater pipe had exploded and sprayed very hot water everywhere, creating an interesting sauna effet on our room. The hostel staff seemed unconcerned. After doing a bit more research, we were told by the internet guy that he would kindly only charge us for one computer, even though we had been sat using it together!

We met up with the French guys again and popped into the town for samosa and beers. We were too late for the typical 'English wine and beer shop' but did persuade a bar to let us have a take-out.

We sat on the rooftop, with a beautiful view of all the major attractions (which were all lit up and glowing) and chatted about their round-the-world trip as we tried to pick-up recommendations. They hated China, listing all the things they found wrong with it, including: everything being regimented, the people not wanting to speak to tourists, the fact that everyone constantly hawks up phlegm (much worse than here apparently) and constantly farted in public,  as well as many other things. They absolutely loved Tibet though and, since I already wasn't keen on going to China, we tried to explore ways of seeing it on our single-entry Visa, though we eventually had to conclude that it might not be possible.