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.