"You need to run as fast as you can... and climb the nearest tree!"

I’m being lazy today! I’ve spent the last two days in the heat and humidity of Chennai (formerly Madras), where I have wandered the streets, spent way too long on the local public transport (3.5 hours to go 31km!), and have yet again found myself sick when faced with the extreme pollution and heat of Indian cities! After a nightmarish day of travel disruptions leaving Nepal, I am incredibly lucky to be couch surfing with Anna and Rasmus, a wonderful German girl and her hilarious Danish boyfriend, living in Chennai for five months, and by far the highlight of my time in this city! The three of us are heading off together tomorrow morning for Puducherry, however I have claimed today as a day of laziness, and therefore decided it is time I updated my blog!

Looking out the bus window... at
least this spot had a rail!

From Kathmandu, I found myself bumping along the precarious road to Pokhara, a 210km journey which takes about 8 hours in good traffic, and includes much excitement as the bus weaves through traffic on both sides of the road, comes dangerously close to the top of the cliffs which fall dangerously below, and brakes suddenly to avoid wandering livestock who use the road both as a path to reach their destination, but also more commonly, as a good spot to lie in the warm sun, oblivious to the vehicles trying to pass! I was on my way to Pokhara with my trekking group – four Aussies, a Kiwi and a Brit on a 6 day Geckos tour – and our guide Nima, a lovely Nepalese man who had been leading treks through the Himalayas for 18 years, and went out of his way to ensure we were all well looked after, and allaying my last minute fears of being forever remembered as the fat kid who held the group up. Turns out I wasn’t so bad after all!

A truck that didn't negotiate
the corners so well!

Pokhara is the second largest city (however I feel ‘town’ suits it better!) in Nepal, and is about an hour and a half drive from the bottom of the Himalayas, where our trek was to begin. The town lies on the banks of a man-made lake, popular with tourists who find excitement from sitting precariously close to the water level on rickety boats that paddle out to an island temple, and providing a beautiful view for the daredevils who paraglide in from the mountains above – obviously I did neither of these activities, and instead chose food and a hot shower over any form of sightseeing!

Our trek took us up through the Annapurna region, walking around six hours a day, and spending our nights in small, quaint teahouses where hot showers and heating were unheard of, the food never quite as you would have expected from the description on the menu, and the views of the Himalayas absolutely breath-taking! Our first day of trekking was by far the hardest, conquering 19km of uphill stairs, in the hail, with the cold temperature and the Aussie girls’ over-packing of absolutely everything holding the group back more than we would have liked! While it is glaringly obvious I am no Josh Leane in any way, but most of all in my level of fitness, I actually didn’t do as badly as expected, and was quite pleased to finish the day without the tag of ‘fatty’ or ‘slow-coach’, and without feeling I had held the group up with my lack of any real training, preparation or fitness. So far so good!

Day two saw us climb higher again to Chomrong – but only after climbing an hour and a half uphill, to then find ourselves climbing back down the other side of the same hill, to then climb even higher again up the next hill, to then have to take a longer route because of a landslide… and then climb further uphill again! While the distance we travelled was less than day 1, the continual change between uphill and downhill trekking was actually harder on our legs… however I still somehow managed to avoid the nasty nicknames, and didn’t do as badly as expected. As the sun began to set for the day, with our legs aching, our clothes coated in sweat and filth, and some of us having slight regrets at booking a trek… we turned the last corner toward our teahouse for the night… and stood face to face with the Himalayas. Every negative thought vanished from my mind, every issue I have ever had in life seemed completely insignificant, and every expectation, hope and dream I had for my trek in Nepal were suddenly blown out of the water. The Himalayas are truly amazing.

The view from my room

The Himalayan Range is the highest mountain range in the world, with 109 mountains reaching a height of over 7200m (the highest mountain outside of Asia is a mere 6900m in South America, while Mt Lofty soars at 727m) and divides the Indian subcontinent with the rest of Asia. Formed over the last 70 million years, the Himalayas not surprisingly contain a huge array of rivers and waterways, and it is estimated water from the Himalayas directly supports over 3 billion people in 18 countries – half the population on Earth!!! I only made it to 2700m, where I stood in absolute awe and wonder, blown away by the sheer size, brilliance and beauty of the mountains around me, unable to even comprehend how high and distant the peaks were. Standing in Chomrong, our teahouse looked out directly at Annapurna II at a height of 7937m, and Annapurna South at a much less impressive 7219m. In other words, the peak of the mountain in front of me was over 5km higher than where I was standing! Coming from the flat plains of South Australia, it seemed unreal to be standing in the (relative) warm, while watching it snow high above me, and then still seeing more mountain well above the cloud and snow level. Amazing!

Doing the dishes... Nepal style!

Out trek continued with a visit to a natural hot spring, which was sensational until you had to get out and face the cold Himalayan air while wet, countless games of Jungle Speed and cards, and our last two days spent following the river back down toward Pokhara. Overall, the trek was a great success, and I managed to keep up with the group much better than I am sure many of you anticipated! The Annapurna region has to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth, with no roads (unfortunately this is beginning to change on the Annapurna Circuit), hundreds of small villages and communities, and some of the nicest, friendliest and happiest people I have ever come across. The living isn’t easy, and many people walk for hours, on tracks that left me gasping for breath, and pushed my muscles to the point of exhaustion, just to get to their local town or to visit their neighbour. The land, primarily used for agriculture, is terraced and hard to access, the irrigation of crops a constant battle, and the crops and animals farmed without the modern technology we take for granted back home. However, even with all the challenges that would no doubt lead 99% of Australians to give up, somehow life goes on, the people go on, and the work gets done. I feel so incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to witness the work and lives of the people of the Annapurna region, and I know that as I continue on my travels, and eventually head back to the comforts of home, if I can take even the smallest piece of what I have learnt from these amazing people, and apply it to my own life, and encourage others to do the same, the world will be a much better place.

The Sauraha Taxi Service...

Finishing the trek, I yet again gave up the opportunity to sightsee in Pokhara for a hot shower and food, and celebrated the end of our pain with a group dinner and terrible local cultural show. Early the next morning, I found myself on the edge of my seat once more, as I caught a bus to Sauraha, a small town right on the edge of Nepal’s famous Chitwan National Park – home of the one-horned Rhinoceros. Checking into my $2/night accommodation, I was extremely relieved to discover I wasn’t sleeping with the goats and sheep as I had feared for the price, but was instead in a great little resort on the outskirts of town, surrounded by banana palms, mango trees and corn plantations, and home to a happy family of chickens who would wander the gardens… and mysteriously would drop in numbers every time someone ordered a chicken dish in the resort restaurant… hmm.

The public ferry

6am the next morning, I was up and on my way to a jungle trek, with a local guide who seemed to speak better Spotted Deer and Rhinoceros than he did English. Now that I have safely completed the trek, it’s probably time to mention that tourists are warned against doing treks in the Chitwan jungle, after a spate of attacks from a number of animals have left tourists in much a much worse condition than when they started (mum didn’t need to know this before I went!). Crossing the river on a canoe just before sunrise, our group of three tourists, two guides and an interpreter headed straight into the thick of the National Park, quietly ducking and weaving through plants, spider webs, and fresh ‘gifts’ from all creatures great and small, with our eyes and ears determined to be the first to find something worth gloating over later. The further into the jungle we went, the more evidence we found/stepped in that Rhino’s had been around recently, and the more I found my nerves on edge. It might be a good time now to mention the safety briefing we were given before entering the jungle…

“Rhino’s have killed a lot of people. If I yell ‘run’, you need to run as fast as you can, and climb the nearest tree.”

That was it. Run and climb. Good. Understandably, with this safety briefing running through my mind, the knowledge that Rhino’s and Bengal Tigers live wild in Chitwan, and the fact that every few metres I was stepping over yet another human-sized pile of Rhino poo, or flattened grass where a Rhino had last night slept – I was a little bit nervous! We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked… coming across little more than a bird that took flight as I approached (scaring the bejeebers out of me!), and a glimpse of a Spotted Deer, as it pranced through the tall grass. Pushing further through the National Park, now surrounded by dry grass twice my height, and very few trees to use in the ‘unlikely event’ of having to implement the survival plan, we continued to walk… and walk… and walk… stopping every few minutes for the guide to do his best Bear Grylls impersonation, supposedly listening to the sounds of nature, to lead him to the elusive Rhino. Just as I thought we were sure to give up our search, and head back to the safety of the resort, the guide stopped suddenly in his tracks, and motioned silently for us all to follow him. Walking softly along a small, half submerged track that followed the banks of one of the crocodile infested lakes of the park, we slowly crept forward… and finally, after hours and hours of walking… standing on the other side of the lake, no more than 80m away from us, slowly walking in the shallows, with birds treating it’s back like a helipad… a wild Rhino! No doubt pulling these facts straight from his backside, the guide told us it was a male One-Horned Rhinoceros, roughly 40 years old.

Immediately glancing around for the nearest tree (none in sight that would hold my weight! EEK!), I began to relax slightly as I watched the Rhino go about his business, completely unaware of the three gawking tourists with cameras aimed in his direction. He appeared to be enjoying a smorgasbord of underwater delicacies, sifting through the selection of grasses, reeds and who knows what else, choosing a particularly nice bunch, before moving on to devour more treats further around the lake. We stood for almost an hour, watching him move like a robot (I’m not really sceptical!), so graceful and peaceful, yet with his thick skin and horn obviously put in place as an effective and threatening natural body armour. With my camera memory card nearing capacity with Rhino photos, and not wanting to look like the loser who wanted to stay longer to watch an animal eat, I finally agreed to move on, back toward Sauraha, but not without more animals along the way!

Just hanging out in the sun...

Cutting through even more tall grass, we found ourselves on the banks of the Rapti River… with crocodiles chilling on the sand next to us!!! No wonder tourists are warned against these treks – the guide had given us no warning whatsoever, and next thing, I am standing a few metres from a crocodile, no doubt quite fond of fresh Australian meat! Looking a bit too lazy to get up and gobble me down in one go, the croc’s continued to laze in the sun as we walked around them, stopping for photos, and to watch in disbelief as a group of local villagers balanced their belongings on their heads, and waded across the river as croc’s casually swam past them!!! Concerned for my own safety, I asked the guide about croc attacks in the area, and he said they happen at times, but the crocodiles usually go for wandering water buffalo – at least twice my size – and much harder to bring down than myself! EEK! Further along the path, I was incredibly lucky to come across a herd of elephants being driven across the river, which is not an unusual sight in Chitwan… however, it was a real treat, as the elephants had full tusks – something I have not seen before.

Some tourists
take a shower

Following the excitement of the morning, I spent the afternoon on a Jeep Safari through the National Park, with a stop at the Orphan Wildlife Care Centre, which seemed more a crocodile farm than anything else, and some stops along the way to admire the local wildlife and scenery. Early the next morning I boarded a tourist canoe for a 45 min trip downstream, toward the Chitwan Elephant Breeding Centre. Clearly not having learnt from the events of the day before, I happily jumped on board, ready for a nice, peaceful canoe ride, and felt reassured by the number of tourists and small children – obviously meaning it was a safe trip I was in for. However, this all came to an end quite abruptly. Boarding the canoe highlighted the first issue of the ride, as with each passenger, the boat sunk further into the water, bringing the water level closer and closer to the top of the canoe… and my digital camera and iPad within! The second issue was the small children I had felt so reassured by… but who had no realisation (nor did their parents!) of the height of the water level, and therefore the need to sit still and balanced while in the boat!

Issue #3 became more obvious the further downstream we went, as amongst the picturesque, floating water lilies and small islands, it became obvious we were sharing the river with my good friends… the crocodiles! Sunning themselves on the bank, or floating downstream with just their heads breaching the surface of the water, crocodiles twice the size I had been concerned about yesterday were just metres away from the canoe! Now more aware than ever that there were only a few centimetres between the top of the canoe and the water, and the small children who were so excited by the crocodiles they were now throwing themselves around the boat in glee, I will admit I began to get a bit worried!!!

Of course, as with everything I have worried about so far, everything was fine. We finally made it to the calm waters next to the breeding centre, climbed to the safety of dry land, and spent the afternoon looking on as dozens of stupid tourists taunted, teased, and then held the tail of the 3 month old baby elephant the breeding centre has running around unenclosed. The information boards at the centre talk it up as a wonderful haven for elephants, however reality paints a different picture, with the elephants whipped and punished when they don’t perform, and then chained up with limited space to move, as hundreds of tourists look on from behind broken fences. The young elephants walk around freely, however so do the tourists, and unfortunately this means the baby elephants are chased and harassed by ignorant tourists after the perfect photo opportunity. I will admit I hoped one of the elephants would break free, and treat the tourists the same way! No luck while I was watching with my camera ready to catch all the action… but maybe one day.

Mum is chained up, while baby runs free

I think they may need to repair the fence?

The angel in the yellow picnic rug disguise...

Today's computer room...

It’s an amazing world we live in! I write today from Sauraha, Nepal, sitting amongst banana palms, mango trees, lush green crops, and fields of sweet corn, watching a train of local Elephants slowly make their way home after a long day ferrying overweight tourists around Chitwan National Park. The town is quiet, as we are out of the peak season, however the weather is a brilliant 27 degrees, there’s not a cloud in the sky, the accommodation is ridiculously cheap, and the locals are by far some of the most welcoming, caring, and culturally-proud people I have come across in my travels so far. The unbelievable electricity issues of Nepal have left me lagging behind with my updates, however some lengthy transport journeys in the next few days should give me some time to get you all back up to date with my travels, and the many stories from along the way.

My last update was just after my arrival in Kathmandu, however when three Australian friends catch up in a foreign country, there is bound to be excitement along the way! I think I will start with our time in Delhi, and see where I end up.

With our 12 nights of tour behind us, it was time for the Ali’s, Carol, Sarah (our new found Aussie friend) and I to take on some Delhi sightseeing. Making our way to the Delhi Metro early, we enjoyed yet another frisk search – these are way too creepily common in India – before heading to the beautiful Humayun’s Tomb, built by one of Mughal Emperor Humayun’s wives (the ‘senior’ wife) in 1562, and no doubt incredibly impressive, had one not been to the Taj Mahal a matter of days earlier. The tomb is beautiful, and is surrounded by gardens, set well back from the hustle and bustle of Delhi’s roads – the perfect place to relax, admire the beauty of the tomb, and participate in cult-like practices, leading to the tallest, and therefore obviously the ‘leader’ of the cult to get us kicked out of the tomb, and accused of unruly, alternative worship behavior. Before you make assumptions, let me at least plead my case, and profess my innocence…

Ali and Sarah at Humayun's Tomb

Upon entering the tomb complex, we (now including Dan, who gravitated to the group naturally after seeing my ridiculous outburst at the ticket salesman, who not only ripped us off as tourists, but then had the nerve to claim he had no change…) took a leisurely stroll through the gardens of the tomb, stopping briefly for photos, to admire buildings, and to participate in other mundane, seemingly atheist behaviours. Making our way up the steps to the tomb, we chatted about various non-religious matters, showed no sign of Rosary bead, cult tattoo, or sorority pendant/ring, and as far as I could see, made no attempt to gather followers or supporters for our sinister intentions.

Stepping inside the tomb, we – the innocent Aussie backpackers – were greeted with the most beautiful singing, from a woman who could only possibly be described as the human form of Marianne Thornberry (for those of you who watched Nickelodeon as kids), and who we assumed was employed by the tomb in a last-ditch attempt to create some magnificence over the famed Taj Mahal. In awe of her voice and blown away by the moment, the six of us stood back and listened, quickly coming to the realisation the woman was in fact a tourist making the most of the tomb’s acoustics, her captive audience, and our obvious looks of amazement. Finishing her first song, Mrs Thornberry then invited the 25 or so people watching to join hands around Humayun’s cenotaph, teaching us a chant, complete with three-part harmonies and a basic dance (which I must say Ali F mastered within a matter of seconds!!!) Completely unaware of what we were singing, uncertain of the intentions of the woman leading us, but willing and eager to make the most of our unusual experience, we all gained confidence in our singing and dancing, enthusiastically participating in the spectacle at hand. However, just as I was braving up to take on a falsetto harmony (well, I would like to think I would be brave/talented enough!), our singing was brought to a sudden halt, as a group of security guards broke the circle up, and approached ME… accusing me of leading a cult, and demanding I tell them what we were singing about. Shocked at their accusations, and claiming to have no knowledge of the translation of our lyrics, I was quick to point the finger at Mrs Thornberry, only to be ignored – for she was female, and I was the tallest male, and therefore I was OBVIOUSLY the leader of the group!!! With no luck convincing the security that I was in fact an innocent, easily influenced, fragile and kind-hearted individual, and I had never done anything wrong in life, we were asked to take our cult behavior outside, and leave the tomb immediately!!! What an end to our India adventure!

The beautiful banks of one of Kathmandu's main rivers.

Leaving my cult-criminal-record in Delhi behind, I flew to the pollution, chaos, uncertain electricity, and cold nights of Kathmandu, Nepal. As a yuppy brand-name consumerist fool in Australia, I was certain I already knew all about Kathmandu. It was going to be clean, environmentally friendly, organized, well laid out, and easy to navigate – just like the Kathmandu brand which has so kindly taken it’s name back in Australia. However, as the taxi ride to my hostel taught me quite quickly, the city is far from the organized, clean brand I know and wear, and was berserk to say the least! With a population of over five million people, no obvious rubbish disposal system, waterways choked with trash and stray animals, 10+ hours of electricity load-shedding every day, limited sewerage and running water, and public transport rivaled only by the AdelaideMetro Noarlunga line before 6am on a Sunday, Kathmandu caught me well off guard.

I spent my three days in Kathmandu subconsciously preparing for my upcoming trek, walking the 18km return trip to Thamel twice in two days (I was too scared to catch the local bus!), stopping along the way to admire the various temples, town squares, museums and architecture the city has to offer. ‘Metropolitan’ Kathmandu is made up of three small cities, which over the years have rather awkwardly joined together, to create one big, busy, disorganized place of total mayhem and excitement.

Paten Durbar Square, Kathmandu

However, through all the chaos and confusion, the strikes and rallies, the shemozzle of a public transport system, and the hoards of street vendors, beggars, and money hungry tourism operators, I found Sarita, and suddenly everything made a bit more sense!

Sarita is an angel in a yellow picnic rug/yak wool scarf disguise, and I was lucky enough to book accommodation at her guesthouse – Sanu’s House – on the outskirts of Kathmandu, about 9km from the main action of the city. Sanu’s is nothing fancy, with four floors, 16 rooms, two open-plan bathrooms (this is not ideal for privacy!!!), no heating, a dilapidated bright green façade, no reception area, and the usual 14 hours or less of electricity the people of Kathmandu survive on each and every day. However, with this said, there is one special place in Sanus house, one place that brought people from all over the world together, encouraged some of the most interesting conversations of my trip, and provided some of the BEST food to date… the kitchen! The kitchen is a dim, bare, brick-floored room at the bottom of the building. One corner is taken up with a traditional Nepalese oven/fireplace, while the rest of the room is quite bare, with a bench along one wall, and a small table with the portable gas stove along another. The remaining space is stacked with a plethora of well-loved cushions and rugs, providing seating for the hoards of people Sarita cooks for every day.

Sarita haggling with the
taxi driver for me...
What a champ!!!

On top of cleaning the hostel, making up rooms, delivering hot-water-bottles to every guest when they are tucked up in bed, wearing a dashing yellow picnic rug as a scarf, and providing the BEST local travel advice to anyone who asks, from her one portable gas stove, Sarita creates magic! The stove seems to burn non-stop, with guests treated to a complimentary cooked breakfast every day (different every morning), a hot vegetarian meal for lunch, and an all-you-can-eat banquet and unlimited Chai Masala every evening for dinner (100 Rupees/$1.25). The ingredients are basic – many home grown – yet the food is phenomenal, the chapatti’s individually hand rolled and cooked as you enter the kitchen, and the food served with a beaming, caring and proud smile. In a city of chaos, a world of confusion, hate, greed and intolerance, and a time when we are all way too busy with our own lives to make an effort to impact the lives of those around us, Sarita is a rare gem. In her kitchen there is no consideration of skin-colour, religion, beliefs, language, lifestyle, financial standing or family history. Everyone is welcome, and everyone is made to feel at home. While I don’t want to make this sound like a blatant plug for the business… I really do wish everyone could have the opportunity to stay at Sanu's house, even if just for one night. There is no way Sarita makes a profit from the food she supplies, and by no stretch of the imagination do the measly accommodation and food prices cover the value of the effort and energy she puts in to making her guests welcome, however, as I sat on the floor of the kitchen, my already-over-padded backside given the luxury of a 'Free Tibet' cushion, and I listened to stories from all over the world, I was completely blown away by how much one woman, through peace and love, and a desire to help others, has managed to change the lives of so many people - no doubt when they expected it least. Thanks Sarita!

I can't escape the Delhi!

The Ali's and The Brazilian

It feels like weeks since I last wrote, and I apologise for this – however there’s been so much to do, and so little time! I’m writing from Kathmandu, Nepal, curled up in my sleeping bag, feeling rather content after a dinner of salted spinach and rice, and clutching the hot water bottle the hostel owner just gave me – the only source of warmth I have come across today!

My last 12 days have been spent with the Ali’s from Adelaide, touring Rajasthan, Northern India, on a Geckos Adventure trip, which took us from the chaos of Delhi, through a number of small ‘off-the-beaten-track’ villages and towns, bustling bazaars, The Taj Mahal (and various other not-so-grand buildings, called any number of names related to ‘Taj’ or ‘Mahal’ in an attempt to fool tourists into thinking they are a decent place to stay/visit), and countless forts and palaces in varying states of grandeur or ruin. The itinerary was great, the accommodation was ridiculously nice (we even had hot water almost every night!), and the transport decent for India – however, while the tour was no doubt intended to expose us three brave travelers to the excitement, intrigue and challenge that is India, it was a very Aussie group we travelled with!

Saleem's Tuk-Tuk

We left Delhi on an early morning train bound for Agra, home of the breathtaking Taj Mahal, the majestic Amber Fort, one ridiculously hard-to-find ATM, and India’s friendliest, proudest, and most Darryl Kerrigan-esque tuk-tuk driver, Saleem. With only one night to spend in Agra, we had great intentions to make the most of our time, and rushed to get out of the hotel and into our exploring as quickly as possible. Saleem had different ideas. Climbing into two tuk-tuk’s outside the hotel – the Ali’s in one, and Carol (‘The Brazilian’) and I in the other – things were looking good for a day of adventure. The Ali’s tuk-tuk driver turned the key and tuk-tuk’d off first, pulling out of the driveway as if his passengers actually had somewhere they might like to be for the day. Saleem also reached forward with the key… to open the small locker, craftily located in the dash of the tuk-tuk, pulling out a range of items he felt we desperately needed to see before we could be on our merry way. With the Ali’s now pulled over amongst a throng of begging children, waiting for our vehicle to catch up, Saleem spent at least the next seven minutes giving us his full life story, complete with his comprehensive family photo album, a photo album of passengers he had driven over the years, laminated references from other Australian passengers, and a book (which Ali F was later lucky enough to get to write in!) filled with testimonials, many of which described the three-toothed Saleem as everything from ‘the most handsome tuk-tuk driver ever’, to ‘Agra’s sexiest man’. Obviously all very accurate descriptions! With our full introduction to Saleem’s family complete, some token oooh’s and aaah’s from The Brazilian in her Brazilian accent, and some witty comments from me about Saleem’s cricket ability, we were finally on our way to rescue the Ali’s from the crowd of begging children they had managed to attract, and we were on our way to explore Agra.

Inside the Agra Fort 

Our day saw us exploring the beautiful Agra Fort, built in the 16^th Century, and now home to countless ‘qualified’ local tour guides, hundreds of monkeys, squirrels and birds, and a breathtaking view of the filth and pollution that lies in the river in front of the Taj Mahal. Yum. Pollution aside, the fort was actually quite spectacular, and provided endless opportunities for Ali B to demonstrate her abstract-photography-prowess, directing the rest of our group in all sorts of strange ways to capture the perfect photo. From the fort, we stopped at a local restaurant for coffee/warm-milk/curd, and met our tour group to make our way to the Taj Mahal, and the excessive amounts of information we had ahead of us!

The Taj Mahal

Built in the 17^th century by Moghul Emperor Shah Jahan, in memory of his third wife who died in childbirth, the Taj Mahal is one of the new Seven Wonders of the World, and is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful buildings on the face of the earth. Strict environmental controls mean you approach the Taj Mahal on an electric ‘emission free’ bus, and then walk the last few hundred meters to the gates of the complex. Lining up was a very surreal experience – knowing that in just a few minutes I would be standing in front of one of the most recognizable buildings the world has to offer, a building I have seen time and time again in magazines and Facebook profile pics, and the building the has undoubtedly hogged the position of token Indian offer in the world of Windows desktop backgrounds – and I was about see it!!! Passing through strict security, and still not quite believing the Taj Mahal was just around the corner, the excitement was beginning to build! As we found throughout our tour, our Gecko’s leader wasn’t so good at the whole ‘information’ thing, and for our Taj Mahal journey we were met by a local tour guide, who we knew we could trust due to his fetching brown knitted outfit, and his porn-star facial hair Ben Howland could only dream of one day matching! I don’t want to bore you with the whole tour we paid for… but will anyway. It went a bit like this…

“Welcome to the Taj Mahal. We are standing just outside the main entrance to the Taj Mahal gardens. This gate (pointing to gate to our left) is the East Gate, because it is in the east. This gate (pointing to gate on opposite side of complex) is called the West Gate, because it is in the west. This gate (points to gate in-front of Taj Mahal) is called the Entrance Gate, because it is the entrance to the Taj Mahal. Now, would anyone like to buy a photograph for 200 rupees?”

…and that was it. Money well spent, thanks Geckos!

Ali B in her best
Princess Diana pose

Stepping through the entrance gate, I was blown away! I was standing in front of the Taj Mahal! Words can’t even describe how majestic, breathtaking and inspiring the building really is. Even the thousands of tourists – pretending they were holding the building up like some bloated version of Pisa, or they were Princess Diana, sprawled across the numerous marble benches around the complex – couldn’t detract from its beauty. The grand marble dome of the tomb, the symmetry of the structures, the perfect alignment, the reflection in the waters – everything was just perfect. After taking our own share of photos, we made our way through the crowds, to take a look inside the tomb, where my perfect day at the Taj Mahal began to come slightly unraveled. To protect the marble inside the Taj Mahal, all visitors are required to wear covers over their feet, which is great – if you have size 8 Indian feet! I however, do not have such feet, and spent the next couple of minutes in quite the comedy of errors, as four of us tried with all our might to stretch the ‘one-size-fits-all’ foot covers to the size required to adequately cover my feet. No deal. Giving up on trying to stretch the covers to size, I had to resort to prioritizing, deciding to use the sock-like protector to cover the front half of each foot, not only leaving my heel hanging out, but also leaving me to spend the next half an hour walking my 198cm frame around on my toes, like some tragic plus-sized fairytale princess, on an oaf-like search for her promised glass slipper. Just how I imagined I would walk around the most famous building in India!!!

My toe protectors...

After a sensational buffet dinner in Agra, we caught an early morning bus, followed by a five hour Jeep ride – sometimes on-road, sometimes off-road (and when the driver of the other vehicle fell asleep while driving, both!) – to the as-quaint-as-you-can-get-in-India village of Tordi Garh. We kept busy with a cart ride behind Mardi Gras dressed camels, a pot of Chai Masala while watching the sun set over the sand dunes, an early morning trek/scrub bash to the Tordi Fort, and an information-rich (maybe 10 words!) local village walk… however nothing compared to the excitement of Jungle Speed! Of course, for those of you who know how to play Jungle Speed, it will come as no surprise to you that it was an exciting evening, however it was the strange looks and conversation that went on through the game that provided the biggest surprise! Sitting down in the warmth of the dining room, ready to flex my Jungle Speed muscles, I invited two random Aussies (Harriet and Alex) to join the Ali’s and myself, and began to explain the rules of J-Speed. Harriet stared. I explained the aim of the game, and the general rules. Harriet still stared. I explained the pictures on the cards, and the use of the totem. Harriet looked at me strangely. At this stage, as the game was about to begin, and I was beginning to think I had become drastically better looking overnight, Harriet piped up, telling me she thought I looked very familiar, but she couldn’t work out where from. Knowing Harriet was from Australia, I posed the next obvious question, determining it was in fact ‘Harriet from Hahndorf’ sitting across from me, and as soon as she knew I was from Adelaide, she gasped, and with a look of smiley fritz joy in here eyes, said “I know where I know you from… you’re the bubbly guy from Mt Barker Woolworths!!!” In the opposite hemisphere, 10000km from home, 5hrs Jeep ride from the nearest sealed road, and I still can’t escape!

The Aussie Jeep

Carol with a Mardi Gras Camel

A cup of chai masala at sunset

After our relaxing two days at Tordi, we jumped back in the Jeeps, bound for ‘The Pink City’ of Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan. Jaipur is home to the beautiful Amber Fort – more a walled palace than a battle fort – where we spent our first morning, and a bustling old city, where we spent hours wandering the streets for bargains we just didn’t know we needed til we saw them! In the late afternoon, the city’s skyline comes alive with thousands of kites, as school children and the young at heart take to the roof tops of their buildings, creating an amazing display of colour and excitement as far as the eye can see.

A local Jeep

From Jaipur, we were yet again up bright and early, taking an early morning bus to the small village Nimaj Bagh, home to our tour leader, and a beautiful homestay run by his family – the Royals of the area. Our first afternoon was spectacular, as we jumped in some local Jeep’s and headed off on an Indian safari, heading off-road in search of Blue Bulls (belonging to the Antelope family), Eurasian Teal Birds, illegal limestone miners, and the elusive Kingfisher Bird. While the Kingfisher continued to avoid our company, we had a great afternoon bouncing through countryside extremely similar to that which you might find in Australia, and stopped to wander through a local village, seemingly untouched by tourists, and desire for the tourist dollar. Yet another cup of chai masala while watching the sunset finished off a great day.

Some kids in the local village

A Blue Bull

The Jodphur Fort

Heading back to the big city, our next day took us to Jodphur – ‘The Blue City’ – where we spent the afternoon wandering the local market, known for spices, linen, and a particularly inconvenient lack of public toilets, before settling into a local homestay for the night. Our morning was spent with oh-so-dorky audio-guides (and therefore actually managed to get some information on the city!) as we walked the city’s Fort, before heading off toward the ‘Venice of the East’ (supposedly India’s most romantic city), Udaipur.

The Fat&Lazy tourist taxi service...

Th view from the Jodphur Fort

Set on the banks of the Pichola Lake, the city lived up to expectations, with a more European feel than even some European cities I have visited, and surrounded by a beautiful mountain range, providing endless sunset photo opportunities for ‘Abstract-Ali’ and her trusty Lumix camera. We spent hours wandering the winding streets of the city, casually browsing through shops and stalls, and enjoying finally being able to walk the streets with out being accosted or whistled at by shopkeepers intent on referring to me as ‘my friend’, or ‘mate… g’day’. A sunset cruise out to the Lake Palace Hotel, where wedding reception prices start at US$25,000, and walking the gardens of the palace surrounded by squirrels, as the sun set, made it quite obvious why the city is referred to as the most romantic in India – a far cry from the public trains of Mumbai! Dinner at the brilliant Lotus Café, owned by a local man and his wife from Adelaide, saw many in the groups eyes light up, with chocolate or Nutella pancakes, banana split, and hot rice pudding making a welcome change from the standard Indian dessert of rose flavoured milk-extract balls, almost perfectly resembling the texture of an everyday Australian dish-sponge!

Our last night on tour saw us board an overnight train bound for Delhi – a great experience for Carol and I, sharing a cabin with a local Rajasthani family, who made us local dinner on-board (wouldn’t take no for an answer!), and shared with us for hours about their lives, their beliefs, and the issues of the world. After pulling out my laptop for a slide-show and stories of my travels through Morocco, it was time to call it a night, and so began the challenge of trying to find a way to sleep on a bed built for someone about two feet shorter than myself – no easy task! With my legs creatively hooked up in the ladder for the bed above, I did manage to get some sleep, providing me just enough energy to start a cult movement, and get five of us kicked out of Delhi’s most popular tourist attraction the next day… a story for a later post!