Delhi

After a suitably enjoyable 8 hour flight to Mumbai (suitably delayed by Air India by an hour or two) I arrived into Mumbai to be greeted by a noise, heat and chaos I can honestly say I was not quite expecting at 3am. The lack of adequate air conditioning meant the corridors and baggage claim were riddled with mosquitoes, and the general lack of good signing or helpful staffing didn't make it the easiest airport to navigate. After taking some 2 hours to simply clear passport control and be re-aquainted with my luggage, I waited in a queue for 45 minutes to take a coach over to the domestic terminals, where I took approximately another hour to clear security in the 'women only' queue. As I was about to step onto the plane (having reached boarding with about 5 minutes to spare which is somewhat staggering when you think I landed 4 hours prior) a rather 'helpful' guard decided that the fact my TINY handbag didn't have a security tag on it was just cause to send me the whole way back to security to get one, meaning I spent about 45 minutes sweating, yelling at people, and running around like a headless chicken, and that the entire flight took off about 50 minutes after its scheduled time (I hope she's pleased with herself). Killed a further 8 hours in the much superior New Delhi airport sleeping on my bag, playing games, fiddling with rupees, listening to music and reading when Abby finally arrived at about 4pm :-)

We had arranged an airport pick up with our hostel, so we left and drove over to it (only 4 near misses on this particular drive so not bad for here. Beeep). Despite the exhaustion beginning to kick in we were both keen to try and power through until later in the evening, so we went out with Hassan (a man from the hostel) to see a night market and eat some local food.

In part, my initial reaction to India is that it reminds me of Asia, only far far busier, and keeping your wits about you is far more necessary in the crazy streets where, say for example, somone might think it's fine to reverse a 15 tonne cement mixer into a tiny bustling market street at speed and those that survive the escapade are those that move out the way fast enough (a list of names to which I was very nearly not a belonger).

For day one we opted for a private ac car and driver rather than the metro and went to see the main sights of Delhi, summarised as follows:

The Red Fort (Built by the Moghul empire in 1648. For me it lacked a wow factor and looked more like a dilapadated prison than a royal residency, but suppose it's worth a quick visit if you're in the area...)

The Jama Majid Mosque (upon climbing far too many stairs for the midday heat we were asked to pay around 300 rupees by the corrupt armed guards for an official "raffle" ticket; knowing entrance should be free we refused to pay and decided against even going in after watching them shout at and intimidate other tourists. I'd advise standing your ground and walking past without paying if you find yourself in said situation, but we were just too hopeflessly hot and bothered for it.)

The Humayan tomb (spectacular and definately worth visiting),

Gandhi's ashes (a quiet, beautiful place where I burnt the soles of my feet on the boiling hot concrete)

The Lotus Temple ("It's like the Sydney Opera house all the way round"):

Lodi gardens (really pretty)

The presidents house (elephant shaped hedges; what's not to love)

The India Gate

On our second day we went to...

The Qutub minar (very ornate and impressive)


Indira Gandhi's museum (one of the few interesting museums I've visited-you can see the spot she was shot and even the sari she was wearing on the day-well worth a visit).

Bikaner

We left Delhi after two days with a driver named Mohan Singh, bound for exploring India's prized state of Rajasthan. First stop; Bikaner.

The nine hour drive to Bikaner didn't quite go as smoothly as I'd of hoped-in every way. Poor roads meant bouncing over pot holes and gravel most of the way, 38c was traded up for 45c, and I woke up with a mild (if not very debilhitating and painful) instance of 'Delhi Belly'. The first toilet stop was a squat so heaving with flies I couldn't bring myself to use it, and following that the less said about toileting today the better-let's just say it wasn't fun.

What was fun....

1. Hearing the phrase 'Holy cow' being used in context; when a cow took a wander out into the street and Mohan Singh swung to miss her, saying to us 'looking it's a holy cow'.

2. The following quote, again curtosy of Mohan Singh who was busy trying to explain something to Abby- though quite what that was noone can be sure; "the male peacock is very ugly feet and legs. So the female peacock when she is looking at the ugly feet she is crying and then eating the tears so is very good for making the baby". I should point out though that there is more to Mohan Singh than strange anecdotes that don't quite translate; and for the most part his company is quite marvellous.

3. On the journey (our first in India) we saw camel carts, donkeys, horses, goats, small towns, rickshaws, army trucks, straw trucks, busses so packed people were riding on the roof and even a cobra. Never a dull one on an Indian road.

4. When we got to Bikaner our hotel was beautiful. We argued a little with Mohan Singh over our choice of dinner (he wanted the hotel resteraunt we wanted local-we won) so then ended up in an extremely local place; a table on the street with a man cooking chipatis and cheese curry. Our presence there caused enough of a stir to warrant a gathering of locals to sit and watch us eat-one man filming it on his nokia. Alas I didn't put on much of a show as my immodium was just about holding out but Abby necked her cheese curry with fine finess.

The 'RAT' temple:

After a reasonable nights sleep we had breakfast in the hotel reseteraunt and then went to see the 'rat temple'. Now, due to a slight issue over accents, both Abby and I were fully prepared to see a 'red temple', and had no idea whatsoever what lay in wait. Upon reaching a rather decrepit looking temple building we were asked to remove our shoes; standard protocol nothing to cause alarm here. The first hint of a ring came when I noticed the other tourists were all wearing special blue socks and whilst I did look and wonder why, Mohan Singh was keen to usher us in quickly so I dropped the matter from my mind and happily sauntered through the gates (of no return mwahahaha). Inside was something I can only describe as being straight out of a horror film. Cultural purists look away now-I'm not planning to describe the place as anything less than gruesome for the sake of feigning an open mind... So it turned out that the 'rat' temple was just that-a large temple filled with, serving, and deifying, rats. Rats everywhere you looked, rat feeces carpeting the floor, hundreds upon thousands of them crawling all over each other in wretched groups or scurrying around with lumps of free 'sacred food' hanging out of their mouths. To the side was a large kitched equiped with filthy pans where the rats were piled up at the edges licking away-apparently they get first dibs before it is then fed to the people-and this brings extra luck! A vat of milk in a huge oversized wok lay just outiside the kitchen and was proving a real hit with the holy rats-much to the delight of everybody else. And the centrepiece of the temple seemed to be a cage with a white rat, where people were eagerly queing to bow before it-because white rats bring good karma. I don't know about that, but I certainly gave my feet a bloody good thrice over with an antiseptic wipe when I hobbled back outside positively traumatised.

Much more satisfying was our next stop at Junagarh fort. I didn't get an audio guide or bother to find out a thing about it (again cultural purists look away now) but it certainly was pretty!

Jaisalmer

Another 5 hours on Indian roads and we had not only made our way to Jaisalmer but we had made a new friend in the form of Gabby-an Argentinian travelling alone with a driver, with an almost identical itinerary to our own.

In Jaisalmer "the golden city" "famous for silver", we went with Gabby to see a silver smith, walked through the streets, went to the night market to purchase some desert-safari-friendly attire, and then went for our first dinner alone. How can 'not spicy' mean such wildly different things to people is my only muse about that.

A very merry Mohan Singh said good night to us when we reached our hotel (I think he had devoured a good half bottle of whisky while we were out), and so endeth the day.

We took a stroll up to the fort in Jaisalmer in the morning, and did some shopping in the lanes.

Relaxed in the hotel pool for a few hours in the afternoon, then went for lunch in a local resteraunt named Milano.

At around 4 o clock we drove an hour out of Jaisalmer and into the desert, where Abby and I each took our own camel and rode for about an hour out into the dunes to watch the sunset.

We rode the camels back to the village and then had a traditional dinner (though made more western friendly by decreasing the spice content), and watched some entertainment (a local band and a fire eater).

Then it was all aboard a camel cart back out into the dunes where we set up beds with some other tourists (4 french girls, Gabby, Abby and I) and sat drinking and talking under the light of the full moon. The temperature dropped a suprising amount in the night-enough to warrant a thick blanket, and a jumper. We woke up at around 6am which gave us just enough time to all hobble to the top of a dune, and sit wrapped in blankets watching the sun rise, with the setting moon behind us-pretty amazing.

Jodhpur

After breakfast in the village we drove back through Jaisalmer and onwards to Jodhpur. Owing to an incredibly oppressive 45 degree heat that even the air conditioning could not seriously contend with, we spent most of the journey asleep in the car with multi-coloured scarves wrapped unskillfully around our pink faces. We did stop for a lassi on route (a mixture of yoghurt, ice cream, fruit, nuts and sugar), which was nice; "no ice please!"

When we arrived into Jodhpur we went straight to see the fort which was beautiful. We walked up to the top, stopping to pose for pictures with the many people that asked. At the top the view over 'the blue city' was suitably impressive:

Down in the city (not the cleanest to be found in Rajasthan) we walked from our hotel to the local bizar and did some shopping-spending most of our time sat drinking masala tea with some young boys who wanted to both practice their English and sell us their goods (we bought tea and handbags).

We had dinner on the rooftop of our hotel, had a beer and then went to take full advantage of our beautiful air conditioned room. 9 hours sleep here I come!

Udaipur

From Jodhpur we travelled to Udaipur-described as the romantic 'Lake city'. Our hotel came complete with a view over the lake from our room, and a roof top terrace perfect for sipping beers and taking in the view.

Though the city is small and safe to walk around in, the ensuing hassle from almost everyone either for money, pictures or both is beginning to grate a little at this point. I think as Udaipur would be a lovely spot just to sit by the lake and chill out if it were at all possible to even get a buttock cheek on a bench before being mobbed it adds to the frustration of being two white, young, female tourists in India.

But moaning aside, we went to the palace complex (after much confrontation at the ticket booth over what was, in retrospect, about $4 but we were convinced we could bargain our way to a more 'Indian' price) and took in the museum and views over the city.

We were reunited with Gabby, and this time we also met another Spanish couple, and an Argentinian brother and sister ('this is my sister' being the fastest line anyone has ever said lol). We went to a local show made up of a variety of traditional Rajasthani dances, which was actually really impressive and enjoyable, and followed this with dinner on another of Udaipurs many impressive roof tops.

Also worth a mention was Abby's Henna, which we went up into a local house for. Interesting to have a little nosey-it was very clean and tidy inside.

Pushkar

Pushkar is famous for two things (so I am lead to believe). Religion, and 'Bang Lassi'. The temple was underwhelming and the hassle almost unbearable. The Bang Lassi-no comment.

We did a lot of wandering around, sight-seeing, hanging out with locals and drinking lassi here. On our last evening we had dinner on yet another rooftop, chatting to some Indian men mostly about the climate up north.

Abby didn't like the vibe here; but to be fair she was headbutted by a cow, pissed on by a monkey and ripped off by an old woman all in under 24 hours so it's to be expected....

Jaipur

Just flew in from the 'Pink city', the 'Pink city' was mighty pretty....

Jaipur was my favourite place so far. The addition of sidewalks and the faintest hint of a recognisable high street made the place seem in some way familiar, yet still with its own rustic Indian charm (cows, cow pat, rickshaws, tuk tuks, horns, pollution and litter). We went to visit...

The Amber fort:

and The Nahargarh fort:

(google image)

We went to a few other places I wouldn't necessarily write home about in our hardcore day of sight seeing including:

the palace of the winds:

the city palace complex:

the Jantar Mantar (observatory)

and the Jal Mahal (water palace).

We also unwittingly found ourselves in one of Jaipurs many 'textile facotires'. The winning formular for said place works as follows; a bus load of bewildered tourists are dropped off at a 'factory' for tourist tat, and within the next five minutes a group of expectant and dishonest salesmen will begin demonstrating local techniques for handicrafts. The tourists soon find themselves cohearsed into a feeling of gratitude for the show they didn't ask for, and a sense that they are now somehow indebted to the salesmen begins to take hold. At this point they will then be ushered into a large shop, offered drinks, asked disingenuous and rehearsed questions about where they are from etc, before the 'don't buy no problem just look' lines are soon replaced with extremely high pressured and pushy selling. The tourists are offered goods they could choose to go and barter for with local tradesmen in the market for a fraction of the price, yet they still cave in and buy thanks to the salesmen making them feel guilty if they don't, and the general confusion of the entire situation clouding a rational decision. As the tourists are then hearded back onto the bus, a wedge of cash ('comission') will be handed to the driver (interesting after the salesmen will inevitably of declared at some point in their pitch that they are selling their goods for almost 'no profit'), and the sightseeing tour will continue.
Knowing exactly what 'textile factory-just look very interesting place no buy is fine' meant I told Mohan Singh we did not want to go. He took us anyway, so I stuck to my guns and refused to buy anything out of principle.


Sight-seeing over, my favourite experience in Jaipur had to be the cinema! On arrival we went to see a Hindi film (Full House 2), which just about made sense despite the lack of subtitles, and loved the whooping, cheering and falling out of chairs laughing from the crowd. Much more equivocal to a rock concert back at home in terms of volume and atmosphere-a very good way to spend 90 rupees.

 

Agra (The Taj Mahal)

Finally we made it to our holy grail-the Taj Mahal. Both so overwhelmed by the beauty of the building we decided to pay the astronomical price of 750 rupees twice to see it at sun set on our night of arrival in Agra, and then to return the next day at sunrise.



Actually it was interesting to experience it at both times; the overwhelming crowds at sunset meant posing for an estimated 150 photo's for Indian tourists who wanted a holiday snap with some goras, and also meant risking life and limb being piled inside an already dangerously overcrowded building to view the morceleum hundreds at a time.

Sunrise, in contrast, was a picture of serenity, with far fewer crowds and those that were present being mainly other foreign tourists.

Varanasi

In order to get to Varanasi we took an overnight train from Agra (our first experience of India's infamous railway). The station resembled a large warehouse full to the brim of people (often entire families) sprawled out on blankets and tarpaulin bedded down for the night. The platform sounded more like an Avery so full was it of birds, and the accumulated smell of urine, birds, rats, and general dirt made it smell like some sort of horror house pet shop.

The train coughed into the station shortly before its departure time and we spent a rather stressful ten minutes running up and down the aisles trying to locate our seats. Once this was done, despite being in a compartment (seperated only by a thin curtain) of 4 beds, we were greeted by 2 men happily sitting on Abby's bunk, two more on the bunk opposite, one above and one empty top bunk. As the station guard didn't ask them to move or even mention their presence as he said this is yours and walked off, we wound up sitting together on the top bunk presuming something was going on and the men would move soon. They didn't, so Abby went to sleep on her bed and wound up with an old man merrily perched at the foot of it. I yelled at a further two men who had the audacity to ask if they could sit on it too, who settled for taking a defiant picture on their ancient nokias. In hindsight we should of kicked them all out, but it was a poor train, no guards, and as I said we were confused as to whether they had overbooked the seats or if the men and simply opted for their own upgrade so we put up with it (I now suspect the latter was definitely the case).

After a highly distrubed sleep we arrived in Varanasi, where the porter who showed us to our hotel room hugged me (?) and had a short rest before going to see about a million Buddha temples. In the evening we went to a shop where we met a guy called Sam who turned out to be Jay Seans cousin, drank some beer and then went for dinner in Brownies (yummy).

  

The next morning we were up at 5am for a sunrise boat ride down the Ganges. Unfortunately the overwhelming smell of dirty stale water, human and animal urine and feaces, years worth of rotting rubbish foaming along every bank almost steaming in stench in the hot sun made the sight of hundreds of people bathing in it and rubbing it into every oraphus in their faces more squeamish than spiritual. Even the ghats just seemed a bit odd, with no people there just some dwindling fires being gauped at by tourists. Later that day the people of Varanasi were staging a strike in protest that the government needs to clean the river. I very much hope their efforts come to fruition because it is a huge issue. I also hope people will stop peeing all over the stairs and dropping litter all over the floor whilst in the middle of said protests!

This all being said, the sunrise itself was beautiful:

Rishikesh

Upon arrival into Delhi train station we were pciked up by a very jolly Mohan Singh and piled into his car. The proceeding six hour drive northbound to Rishikesh was littered by inumerable accidents. We witnessed mainly the left over wreckage of freshly smashed vehicles, animal limbs and bike parts, but at one point saw a man being knocked off his bike by a speeding car (at which point Mohan Singh pressed the gas to the floor and explained "soon villagers are coming and stoning the car, much better we go now"). The total disregard for human life on the roads here has started to really bother me. The road is punctuated by overturned multi-coloured trucks that have seemingly invested more in the tinsel that makes them astechically pleasing to children than in replaced break pads, or more over driving lessons. Crunched up cars, tractors, and small groups of men sitting in vigil at the roadside mourning at the spot that boasts the latest casualty are so common place they soon stop evoking notice, and what's worse is that almost every crash feels so utterly avoidable if just the slightest hint of 'safety first' could penetrate the mindset of India's road users. This leads on to further thought on my part about the nature of death and the way it is so readily understood and accepted here in India, in comparison to the west where we are completely preoccupied with the preservation and protection of human life, and rarely acknowledge the frgaility or temporary nature of our time in this world with the overwhelmingly blunt and matter and fact attitude expelled towards it here. "Car is crashing, then going to the up, and if not then going to the Rishikesh", explains Mohan, whilst sweetly driving a good 10mph slower than the other road users to reassure his cargo of tourists (still a good 50mph faster than anything I'd be comfortable with on a road heavily scarred with pot holes the size of small crators).

Anyway, when the foothills of the Himalays and Gangas finally come into view it's a magic moment. This area of India is by far the most beautiful we have seen so far, and my first impressions of Rishikesh are good (driving aside). We go to haggle a price for a guest house (500 rupees each for two nights-completely with our own 'western' bathroom-deal), and then go to eat some delicious and cheap Thali at a local place.

In the morning we took a walk to the large bridge connecting our side of the river with the busier one, and then made our way to the top floor of our guest house for a two hour yoga session. I got given 'special needs' bricks to help with my inability to touch my toes without bending my knees, and probably injured some muscles I didn't know existed, and then as if I hadn't made a large enough fool of myself at this point completely dosed off in the meditation (they put blindfolds on you it's easy to do) awaking to find the whole room in the lotus position chanting Om with their hands clasped in prayer over their chests. I very swiftly smoothed my crazy hair back down and bolted up into said position, hoping noone had noticed. They all had.

After yoga we met up with Gabby and had some breakfast, then arranged to go white water rafting. Having never been before I can honestly say I think had it not of been for Abby sorting out my helmet, life jacket and explaining what on earth I was meant to do, I probably would of died. I think we all felt in the second rapids when the entire boat got submerged, everyone had abandoned paddling in favour of screaming and we were plummeting towards the rocks that we might not make it, but here we are. Woo. We were told after the final rapids, in a very casual tone, that 4 people had died the day before. Money first, fun second, safety last. Go up when God is willing, and until then live without concern to try and alter death fate. Maybe it's not such a ridiculous philosophy, just one that is alien to me. I consider the pain caused to the parents who were told they have lost children because of a senseless lack of health and safety, they think all death is not senseless, just an inevitable part of life no harder or easier to accpet depending on the circumstances (I say they, some people think this way, or so I believe).

Anyway, after rafting we went for dinner, then to the markets, then to take Gabby back, then back to the market, then to bed. We were up again in 4 hours at a ghastly 3.30 am to drive back to Delhi for a 12.30pm flight to GOA.....

Goa

After one or two issues at the airport, we got to Goa in one piece and met a man named Noor who drove us the 1hour and 30 minutes to Anjuna Beach where our guest house was located.

Following a first night booking at internet price, we haggled an off season rate for the next few nights (250 rupees each-around £3) and set about exploring the area. We walked straight into a bollywood film set at the bottom of our road, and met an American man named Allen who offered to take us out for dinner and talk us through good places to go/ things to do in Goa.

We met Allen and his friend Usa that evening, ate dinner and had our first taste of alcohol that wasn't kingfisher beer since landing in Delhi 3 weeks ago. We then went to a club on the beach named Hippies in the name of 'having one quick drink and seeing what it was like'. This turned into partying all night at hippies until it was shut down, then on to primrose, then on the back of Allens motorbike to his and Usa's place before finally rolling into bed at 5am. We met a hoast of people in this time-Lucky, Brian, Pritesh, Dubai boy, Turkey girls, Damien, Johnny and a few others, and for the next few days we continued to bump into these people almost everywhere we went.

We rented motorbikes on our third day there, and used them to drive around to different beach areas, getting lost so frequently that we more often just cruised around and landed wherever. Again hassle meant the beach was impossible to relax on, but nothing compared to the never-ending onslaught of the north. We described Goa as the holiday from our holiday. A place for parties, beaches, hammocks, good resteraunts, markets filled with tourists, and private transport. Not indemic of the 'real' India, but certainly a great place to chill out between visits.

Riding the bikes

 

Shopping in a local market

If we had longer I would of loved to carry on to Keralla and see the south, and then go to the east, particularly Darljeeling. But alas, our time was up.

Back in Delhi Abby flew home and I spent a final night alone in a nice hotel. Met two interesting guys on the flight home and sat swapping stories with them for most of the flight.

And that was India, more or less....