India Proper

Far too much time was spent in sunny, beachy Goa - nearly a week - and myself and Eirik's feet were becoming itchy. Hans, the German, had left us a few days before, which left only us two and Maria as the remaining members of 'the band'. I decided it was time to head north, to begin a tour around the wonderful sights of Agra and the state of Rajasthan, and invited my bandmates to join me. Eirik was all for it, and Maria agreed to come too, although she needed some persuading - she seemed quite content to lie on a beach for a month as a break from her job at Ryanair. Nevertheless, she took the helm in regards to organising our train ride up to Agra, and it was her idea to break up the 38 hour stretch with a stop at a small town on the way. This meant our intial journey was only 27 hours. 27 solid hours on a train. Perhaps we should've broken it up twice - it was not a comfortable trip. The name of the small town was Bhopal, and when we arrived it began raining. When we went to have dinner at our hotel we were forced to sit in a separate area, because we had a woman with us. We decided that the next day we would put all our energies in to arranging the final leg towards Agra and away from Bhopal.

This seemed to take rather more energy than we had anticipated. Language barriers prevented us from dealing satisfactorily with a booking agent. Nearly a whole day was spent at the actual train station trying to make some sense of their system, but none transpired. We did eventually get some kind of ticket, believing it to provide us with a bed on a sleeper coach. As it turned out, it was only a sort-of raffle ticket, one that entered us in to a draw against all the other people who wanted a bed. It did allow us on to the train, but for the ten hour ride we were not officially allocated anywhere to sleep or sit. We just found empty spots, moved when asked and found others. We were people who had been sold a ticket for a journey on a sleeper coach without anywhere to sleep. It's just one example of things that seem illogical in India. In fact India rarely makes sense. Their national anthem should be I Am The Walrus.

Eventually, and thankfully, we reached Agra, the home of the Taj Mahal. The town itself is fascinating, and our accommodation was located in close proximity to some great markets and 'local' restaurants selling delicious masala dosa, a sort of large pancake wrap with spicy potato inside. We arrived at the Taj around midday, as the marble of the monument reflects a pale, creamy-yellow colour. It really is a stunning and magnificent building, and looks much younger than it's years. After travelling for some time, I've found you get a sort-of 'beauty fatigue', in that if you see beautiful things every day they stop being beautiful and just become normal and part of your everyday experiences. With the Taj Mahal though, I couldn't possibly be so cynical, and it kicked me firmly out of that frame of mind. We stayed for some time, until the sun began to lower and the Taj's colour became a milky-white against the melting orange of the sky. We left, wondering exactly how it could be topped.

Our next stop was Jaipur, the Pink City. It really is pink. It used to the centre of its own state with its own monarchy, and so among the bazaars and gem scammers there are palaces, former homes of some of India's most legendary figures. It was here that we also went to see what is currently Bollywood's biggest hit: My Name Is Khan. Cinema is a massive part of Indian culture, and so it was great to go and experience it. We were probably the only Europeans there. Most of the film is in Hindi and lacked subtitles, so I wouldn't say we got the full package, but we could certainly follow it well enough. Perhaps I had preconceived opinions, but I was surprised at how well the film was made, and it lacked the elaborate, cheesy dance routines and songs that I expected from a Bollywood film. The reaction from the audience was also interesting to observe: they clapped, cheered and laughed more loudly than in any British cinema.

From Jaipur to Pushkar, where I am currently based and have been for a few days. It's a very spiritual place, and the consumption of alcohol, meat and eggs is prohibited. I know that doesn't sound like much fun, but the place is so chilled out compared to the rest of India that simply being here is enough to warrant a stay of at least a few days. Others have clearly realised this too - the percentage of westerners here is very high. And a large percentage of the westerners are very high. It's a hippy's heaven, with dreadlocked Bob Marley worshippers in ridiculous clothes at every turn, wallowing in the cliche of it all. Maria left us yesterday, to return to Goa for the remainder of her trip and to try and get that tan she's been after. That leaves just me and Eirik left in the band, and we head off tonight to Udaipur.

A Hard Day's Night?

I haven't had time to do an update for a little while, so I'll skip the details of travelling from Cambodia back to Thailand and a couple of uneventful nights in Siem Reap. I will however mention that as I left Bangkok to go to the south of Thailand again, I found myself actually liking the place a bit. No longer did it seem busy and smelly and threatening...well perhaps quite smelly, but I'd certainly grown used to places like it, and now I could see that Bangkok is really quite vibrant and exciting. A bit of me wished I could've stayed another night. Instead I took a sleeper train to the south, and wondered why I'd been taking buses before. I sat down, had a beer delivered to me, and I put my feet up on the seat opposite as I watched Thailand roll by out the window. Uh-oh, here comes a guard, he'll probably tell me to put my feet down. Oh no, he's going to say hello, sit opposite, and put his feet up too. How relaxing. Dinner was served and was delicious, and then I got another beer and geeked it up reading some H.G. Wells. Bliss. Then I was interrupted by someone. She just sat herself down in the seat in front of me and began a conversation. Normally I'd probably find this a tad rude, but actually she seemed very interesting. The invasion of the Martians would have to wait. Her name was Sky, and with a name like that you might imagine that her parents were a pair of hippies. You'd be only half right I'm afraid, because it's just her dad that's the hippy. He grows organic vegetables and everything. This was nice, because we had something in common. I told her about my mum's jungle garden that's neighboured by very finely trimmed English lawns, and about my dad's musical exploits in the sixties. We spent the rest of the journey talking until it was time to sleep and we both agreed it was a really nice train ride.

After a rest in Trang, I eventually arrived in Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia, and a huge, modern city. Things were different here. It was certainly cleaner, and the traffic more ordered: the cars stop at red lights. The time I spent here was very touristy. I went to see the Petronas towers, the world's largest twin towers, and beneath them is a shopping mall. Normally I feel guilty going to malls when I'm travelling. It's a bit like you're being drawn to what's familiar when really you should be finding something new. In this case though, I felt the mall was so impressive that it really was an attraction of the city. It's beautifully laid out, and a people-watcher's paradise - each level is a circular ring, meaning from the top level you can see below what everyone is up to. Largely though, Kuala Lumpur was a regular dull city and I was glad to spend only a few nights there.

Singapore, too, seemed like a city built for function, business and local inhabitants rather than for the amusement of visitors, but unlike Kuala Lumpur, it's mere appearance is enough to keep you interested. Again cleaner, and skyscrapers that would make New York jealous. I realised that in the build up to India, I'd traversed South East Asia in the wrong direction. The pristine, stylish exterior of Singapore was surely not the best place to prepare my mind for the bedlam of Bombay. I say exterior because under the surface, I found, lies something quite sinister about Singapore. People are fined excessively for doing petty things like eating on trains or riding bikes on sidewalks. Just using drugs can be punishable by death. The news is heavily censored - only success stories are reported, there is little interest of overseas and nobody speaks against the government. It begins to sound like a certain novel by George Orwell. It turns out I was lucky - jay walking can get you fined $500. I'd been leaping in to the road whenever I found a big enough gap.

All this aside I had a great time in Singapore. My hostel was bang in the middle of Chinatown, and it was Chinese new year that weekend, so there was a wonderful atmosphere. I met a couple of Aussie guys called Luke and Nick and we went for a couple of pints together, although nightlife doesn't seem to be Singapore's strong point. I think everybody has to be in bed by 11. The next day I strolled along Orchard Road, a sort-of caracature of Oxford Street or 5th Avenue, completely devoted to retail and major brands. In the evening I did a Night Safari, which is just a zoo that's open late really, and the next day I walked extensively, taking in the colonial remains of the city and Singapore's own version of the London Eye, which has overtaken it as the world's tallest ferris wheel.

Eventually it was time to take my flight to India, the last country on my itinerary before I head home. I won't lie, I'd been nervous about it. Everyone told me how overwhelming it would be. Conversations with people about it would usually contain the line 'you're going on your own? Good luck!' After a turbulent flight with no sleep, and after my hostel had kindly picked me up from the airport, I was in a bed by 4am and had no idea how things would plan out when I woke.

The hostel was a very relaxed place, a bit like someone's apartment that had been opened up to only very nice people. The host brought me a small cup of chai and some dosa for breakfast, both delicious, and my first taste of Indian cuisine in India. There was a variety of people staying in the hostel, and it turned out that a few people were heading to Goa the next evening, which matched my plans, so we decided to all go together. I also asked if I could tag along with them for the day as they were heading in to Mumbai - the hostel was quite a way out of the city.

However, the purpose of their excursion was not for regular tourism. An American called Simon was a musician, and with the help of a German with a video camera called Hans, they were going to gather some footage for a music video. There was also a Danish girl called Maria, who with the most striking blonde hair and blue eyes was to play the part of an angel. A Norwegian called Eric was going to be a drummer or something. When I decided that I was coming along for the ride, my own cherub features led me in to the role of a second angel. As it transpired, it didn't really work out like that - I wasn't really on the same level as Maria. I've never been at my most comfortable having a camera pointed at me anyway.

So we arranged for a van driver to take us around town, first buying a few bits, like instruments, and then to good locations for us to film. One scene saw us on a raised concrete platform on the top level of a car park, with the skyline of Mumbai behind. Simon would stroll about with his guitar, I'd be bashing away at a tamborene, and the police would be standing there looking cross and a bit bemused.

We finished the take then jumped in the van and made a run for it. At one point Simon just sat on a chair on the pavement and began playing, and this drew in a large audience. Later we went to the beach and within minutes we had a huge crowd of Indians following us. I should point out that Maria was the main attraction. Not just incredibly blonde and pale-skinned, but dressed in traditional Indian attire. The Indian men very much approved. Some of the women did too. Many, many camera phone photos were taken. When we tried to move on, we were followed. Sometimes the crowd would surround us and it was hard to escape. It was a tiny little bit like being in the Beatles. It was the craziest first day in any city ever.

Mumbai is a very, very busy city, but I can't say I was overwhelmed. Either I prepared myself mentally, or my experiences in south east Asia had given me some experience, but I instantly found myself loving the place - the colours, the traffic jams, the smells, the enormity of the amount of people - it was wonderful just to be India. The next evening though, we headed to Goa, which is much more relaxed, but in itself a very interesting place. It's been really nice so far - just myself, Maria, Hans and Eric, a mixture of people from different nations who've only known each other a few days, but it feels like a group of good mates on holiday. We've just been hanging out on the beach so far, but I'll let you know if we do anything more worthwhile.