Rajasthan Rampage

Beneath the dirt, noise, flies, relatively dodgy tummy, hassle, pigs/goats/cows/dogs/donkeys etc in the roads I am enjoying this Rajasthan rampage - really!

Since leaving you at Varanasi for a 12 (in reality 13 1/2) hour train journey, we haven't stopped. Thankfully that train ride was better than the last one - despite our extra travelling companions ie cockroaches - because there were no rows of staring Indians but some friendly Ruskis instead (hey in an emergency I can miraculously muster up faded Russian).

Before reaching Rajasthan Agra was next on the hitlist and we kept on bumping into our new-found ex Soviet friends. A bit of a cliche but the Taj Mahal surpasses its reputation as a 'dream in marble' rather than wax lyrical about its breathtaking mastery - go see it yourself and marvel at one of the 7 Wonders of the World! The city itself is no great shakes and we didn't make it to the Fort (too many to take in) but stopped by Fatephur Sikiri which has a ghostly quality to it and has endless tales to tell.

Having been warned off about Jaipur, (called 'the city of pink' after having decked itself in this welcoming colour for a one-off visit by Prince Albert), it was a pleasant surprise to like it so much. You know you have arrived once you go through the pink gates and see one of its hallmarks, Hawa Mahal - palace of windows for royal ladies. A 5 storeyed, semi octagonal monument made of pink sandstone. The city is surrounded by rugged hills on 3 sides each crowned with a fort, each studded with grand palaces, mansions and landscaped gardens. Amber Fort is the biggie and its palace accommodates the now 15 year old king (bet he is playing DS behind those shutters!). The fort and palace comprise an endless stream of beautifully preserved buildings the most memorable being the hall for the then raj's women. It has head to toe encrusted mirrors that apparently twinkle like stars by candlelight.

Indian history seems to comprise of a line of vanglorious rajes who spend between 12 to 22 years building huge cities (such as Fatephur Sikiri and Amber Fort) only to leave them a few years later to build even bigger ones locally such as Agra and Jaipur. More for the tourist to see though.... as they commissioned the best architects in the world, had glass chandeliers imported from Bohemia, furniture from China, glass from Belgium and gems from... well everywhere everywhere. As well as wreaking havoc with war, these rajes had it all mapped out with favourite wives, not so favourite ones, harems and secret passageways to bedrooms. They played the equivalent of ludo with real women as pawns, held court within yards of their boudoirs and had endless slaves and eunuchs attending to their every whims. Sounds familiar or what!

So now we are in Pushkar, more to follow once we are fed and watered though.

City of Light

So back to our first 12 hour train experience from Darjeeling to Varanasi ... what can I say but it was very.... long. The loos were... unacceptably dirty (a roll up your trouser job whilst holding your nose). The food was.... too spicy even by the locals... and everyone just stared at us. Strangely enough the train arrived 40 minutes early (how can that be??? Everything is late in India!!) so we nearly missed our 1am stop whilst our whole train carriage had deteriorated into a cacophony of snoring, belching and passing wind!!


Varanasi is extraordinary. Yes the traffic is insane, yes cow dung abounds and those bovines are everywhere - they have a particular affection for sitting in the roads and looking beningly on at the traffic. This Venice of India provides a sensory overload ever night with the fire puja, a ceremonial dedication to the River Ganges, Sun, Lord Shiva, Fire and the whole universe. Performed by the local young Brahmin priests, think large quantities of incense smoke, loud clanging bells, chanting, boats, hundreds of people and there you have it in a spiritual nutshell. It is quite something. After the puja itself large scale cremations take place and families take their lost loved ones on their final journey by boat across the Ganges. It sounds gory but it isn't - and as dawn breaks the city seems magical.

If you are wondering what else Varanasi offers apart from the allure of the Ghats themselves, then tourist haunts include a rich array of temples - from Jain to Buddhist (Buddha gave his first ever sermon at Sarnath); and from Hindu to churches. Benares university is also located here and is apparently the best in India, let's not forget Muslim quarters and of course he endless labyrinth of tiny old streets blocked up with the odd cow or two, jangling music and people plying their various trades.


You either love the place or hate it. Either way you can't forget it. Tonight our journey continues by train (can't wait) on to Agra. See you then....

Darjeeling Belly

Yesterday was my worst experience in India and hopefully not to be repeated. I now know what it must feel like to be an open sewer - quite literally. If Delhi belly is worse than Darjeeling belly then I will just have to eat my hat the rest of this trip! Things are looking up though, the craving for homemade food - my mother's of course - is a good sign.

Rounding off Darjeeling included a visit to the much venerated Bhutia Busty monastery with its panoramic view of the Himalayas. It has stunning murals and holds a collection of old Buddhist texts including the original volume of the Tibetan Book of the Dead. We also went to the Darjeeling Children's Trust boy's orphanage which is in an equally stunning location but suffering from landslip. Frankly it is dangerous. Funds are urgently needed for a rebuild and to incorporate the cramped girl's orphanage in a segregated part.

A visit to Darjeeling isn't complete without a trip on the oldest steam locomotive in the world (built between 1879 to 81). Called the Toy Train, the elevation level is up to 2,200 metres (7,218 ft) and I am sure my nephew, Joseph, would have loved it in particular. Remember, though, this is India - it was therefore the first time we have ever gone to a train station and NOT been able to buy a ticket!

We are ready to leave Darjeeling - there is another power cuts and this time there is no water either. Both the sun and mountain range have disappeared entirely under a thick cloak of cold fog. Tomorrow we will have our first 12 hour train adventure to probably the most spiritual, oldest (and dirtiest) city in India, Varanasi....

Queen Of The Mountains

Waving goodbye to Delhi's epic Red Fort, the Bahai temple (lotus shaped and almost a la Sydney Opera House style)... as well as the incessant requests for photoshoots with 'Britishers' (looks as if we are perfect fodder here for a freak show!?)... we set off to Darjeeling - affectionately known as Queen Of The Mountains as well as Gorkhaland for the Nepalese. It just isn't possible to be prepared for all the different faces of India; the contrasts are just too defined.

Perched in the hilltops our daily experiences are now leafy gardens, lush green tea plantations, a slower pace of life (unless you get caught in the fabric of the markets) and a mind-blowing backdrop of the snow peaked Himalayas. Kanchenjunga stands proudly as India's largest mountain - the third largest in the world - and yes it does look like Shiva! Sorry, guys, you are gonna have to Google all of that...

So, what have we been up to??? Recovering from sleepless nights (jet-lag and disorientation), everywhere are friendly faces, fantastic dishes (have succumbed already... eating fish at the Major's house) and glorious sunshine. At the zoo we saw some of the most exquisite and endangered Himalayan animals such as the Royal Bengal tiger, snow leopards, Tibetan wolves, large varieties of deer and birds - plus of course the cutest red pandas. We visited the Tibetan Refugee Self Help Centre which is simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting, I even helped to teach art this morning at one of the most deprived schools in town and visited the girls' orphanage. It now makes even more sense for me to give time to the Darjeeling Children's Trust back in the UK. There is hope - even in a small way and it is tangible.

I knew India would move me to my core but didn't know how. Still don't. The journey is only just unfolding ....

Delhi Underbelly

As friends and family wistfully bid farewell, we are about to be thrown into the depths of a continent were anything is possible and impossible. At the beginning the highs rolled in... kicking off with yours truly asking for and securing a free flight upgrade! The plane left bang on time and, as we luxuriated in our comfy chairs, even the stench of veggie biryani couldn't blot our skyscape (OMG we already can't look the stuff in the eye!) . The fact that my rucksack is bigger than me and that I already have bag rage also faded into insignificance.

Delhi airport wasn't a high - more like the Ok Coral!! Passport control was unsurprisingly out of control, queues stagnated in humid halls and that was before carousel hell. The senseless sensors don't allow more luggage until the conveyor belt has space. With passengers in the said queues nothing was gonna move!! Despite the hapless official, under my tutelage a group of sturdy anglophiles were commandeered to remove the luggage to free up space, so we could flee from bedlam and the airport. Within 2 hours I am already flouting bureaucracy, can India and I go hand in hand?

Don't believe the urban myths about Delhi either - there was no insurmountable hassle, no mountain of beggars, no holy cows or traces of their sacred dung. The driver came on time, the driving was ok (it was 2am after all). Even our super deluxe hotel was super fun. The Monty Pythonesque splattering shower could have you skidding all the way to Agra, the remote control self detonated, the scary electric plugs worked albeit pleadingly for a PAT tested Health & Safety Exec. Hard to second-guess what a standard room would be like.

HOWEVER - and this is a biggie - a low charged towards us and embarrassingly on day one! Yes we were caught in a typical tourist web of deceit - a cocktail of jet lag, 3 nights of non sleep and culture shock sure makes anyone easy prey in Delhi. Before you pass any judgement this could happen to you! Those tourist agency guys are smooth operators, with official Indian Tourist Board logos and credentials plastering their interiors and exteriors our simple request for a day sightseeing tour of Delhi transformed into a full scale tour of Rajasthan. Thankfully it pays to be cynical at times so our deposit was duly returned with a police bust up this morning. The policeman wanted toast and tea though before heading out and, rather than a snazzy sirened police car we arrived in glamour in an auto rickshaw. Watch this space though - the streetwise duo are wisening up at the rate of knots (forgive the pun!) Over and out from Delhi x

Are we there yet?

End of October
Countdown has begun!  Boy is it cold in London, my sore throat has been raging and the dreaded Indian Visa place was closed at my first attempt to deal with the wheels of bureaucracy, unsurprisingly the visa stamp was incorrect at the second attempt where I witnessed my first public tantrum ... bodes well, huh!

We have finally booked a hotel in Delhi (hope so at least) the security password was euphemistically set as 'smell' - also bodes well! Flights booked, jabs in order, pharmaceuticals strategically being gathered up, clothing being scoured out and a sketchy itinerary drawn up. Feels like a military operation already.

Post Delhi, next on the hitlist will be http://www.darjeelingchildrenstrust.com/ to help at the orphanages in some small way .... then it is a toss up between Varnasi or Rishikesh followed by the deserts and fortresses of Rajasthan and down South for R&R in the Keralan backwaters, eyes fixed on a cookery course, wildlife sanctuary, temples, beach, yoga and massage pampering. That's the plan, sit on the edges of your seat to find out about reality! Over and out till mother India x