Full Moon Party!

After two rounds of BJ toast (butter jam) and a cuppa we were on the road heading west towards the Pakistan border. A long day of travel was in store. For the first time the journey took us along a route where there was not much in the way of people nor infrastructure. Simply golden desert land as far as the eye could see. 500 kilometres later we drew near to the outskirts of Jaisalmer where we were greeted by a military base stretching for miles. Army tanks looking worryingly prepared.

The city of golden sandstone brought many great experiences, and once in a lifetime opportunities. We visited the Jain Temple to learn of this religion, and fortunately Shaan was not 'on' and thus was granted entry. Next we headed towards the Khurri Desert where we were to ride camels out into the wilderness.

The evening in the desert allowed us to become closer to our american and Canadian companions. We made the most of the tranquility by sunbathing, racing in the dunes, and ironically attempting camel yoga. As the sun fell laughter turned to silence as everyone switched back into the professional photographer mode. The remainder of the evening brought traditional Indian hospitality - music, dancing, a wealth of food and chai tea. Last but not least we set up camp under light of the full moon, and called it a night. Some of us slept, some did not. Despite many sore legs, there were no regrets in the morning.

On our final evening eight of us gathered for dinner. As some of us prepared to continue our India adventure, some sadly were returning home. We did what we thought was the best means of saying goodbye; we splashed out 200 rupees (£2) each and ate as if it was THE final supper.

All in all Jaisalmer taught us three valuable lessons;
1. Females: don't go near a temple if its that time of the month
2. Stretch your groins before riding a camel and,
3. The difference between jam and jelly is easily explained by sexual reference (credit to Kanin Routson).


Rhys

The Holy City

As we travel further away from Delhi, its seems we are seeing an increasingly 'real' picture of India. Pushkar succeeded in continuing that trend. Difficult to believe, perhaps, when you hear that an hour after arriving here we sat down in a restaurant well known among travelers - for its pizza! The pizza was average, the effects were surprising and unwelcome...

Having survived Delhi, Agra and Jaipur with no stomach trouble between us, it was only a matter of time. I hate to report that I was first to fall, waking up to an intense sense of urgency I hadn't felt since a family holiday to Turkey. Fortunately, I seem to have got off lightly and as I write I am once again a member of 'the firm'.

Pushkar has a population of just 16,000. Compared to the 16 million of Delhi, this Hindu holy place provided a welcome break - for the lungs if nothing else. Our only day here began early, up at half past 5 for a climb to a hill-top temple. It was freezing cold, and Rhys and I were feeling the bellies, but it was worth it. The view of the 'holy lake' and wider Pushkar at sunrise was stunning. We spent the remainder of the day wandering the streets, haggling over garments of dubious quality and taking coffee and lunch from pillows on the floor.

A long evening of tea, food and good conversation followed in the company of Rob and a group of Canadians/Americans he had met in the week. Many of them are coming to the end of long trips, making for fascinating stories and what might just prove to be invaluable advice.

Will

Into the Desert State

Having witnessed one wonder of the world we struck out for the 3rd (and final) point on our cultural tour of India's golden triangle.

For the most part, our days in Jaipur were spent in the impressive and well preserved forts high above the city. The blue skies and great views meant we went slightly crazy with the photos (which later led to hours of clean up work to free up space on alarmingly full SD cards).

One of our few ventures into the city centre took us to one of Rajasthan's famous textile outlets. Here it was to our fortune/misfortune (I still can't decide which) to encounter one of slickest salesmen in all of India, named none other than...Mohammad Ali. The man truly did float like a butterfly. Fluttering around his factory, spinning tales of how his company provided adults with no previous education a chance to work towards meaningful qualifications. In return they worked 4 hours a day in the textile factory. We were absolutely sold, and it so happened that his sting was less like that of a bee and more that of a sexually frustrated hornet. The damage for Rhys and I was more made to measure clothing that either of us can stuff into already over packed bags. On the upside, as I write this we are both smugly rocking our traditional Indian style dress.

Winning the spending championships, however, was Will. Emerging from the dim textiles shop dazed and confused he explained that he was 80% sure that he had just bought a suit. Next day we returned to find out that he had indeed...a beautiful silk cotton mix which is currently traversing the Jaipur-Northampton cargo route.

(The following paragraph is going to make me sound like a gapp yahh tool...but here goes)

Enjoy as we did the days, nothing could have prepared us for the two evenings we spent in Jaipur. To our great excitement Aamir (now more of a friend and big brother figure than a driver) had invited us to have dinner with his uncle and brothers at his house just outside the city. The experience gave us an insight into family life in India unlike I have ever seen before (or likely to see again). Some of the most delicious food of the trip was prepared for us by his brothers wife (whilst simultaneously keeping her three unbelievably cute kids in control). We later were informed that she was just 17 years old, and gave birth to her first child at 13. The revelation succeeded in bringing back the dazed, confused expression that Mr. Ali had first induced.

The second night was even better than the first. We got to experience the very thing I had dreamt of when imagining a trip around India. Street cricket. Needless to say I was in my element, Will to a lesser extent and Rhys...well the poor Welshman doesn't understand games involving spherical balls. After a good hour of fun, it's safe to say that the three of us struggled to make a good impression. On a turning track, facing up to a whole host of 'doosras' and 'carrom' balls, the dazed, confused look was spread across our face for the third time in as many days.

Shaan

One Night in Agra

After an hours drive south, we escaped the boundaries of Delhi making tracks for agra. On this chilly morning we experienced our first traditional indian breakfast, with some chai tea to warm us up. Who knew that' parathas' could provide such a cheap wholesome meal! Three hours later, agra was in our sights. Our first stop was at the Sikandra Akbar Tomb where we strolled around the picturesque setting, the sun shinning down on us.

A short drive brought us to the Taj Homestay Hostel just out of town - by far the nicest to date. After check in and a quick turn around we were back on the road heading for the infamous Taj Mahal, where we would spend the rest of the afternoon into the early evening. On our way in, we made our first travelling friend (oooh travel friends). Rob was a 26 year old Canadian student, travelling alone during his break from studies in Hungary. Together we soaked up the busy yet calm atmosphere of the grounds, taking some fantastic photos along the way. Our trip here brought with it an insight to how indians are really treated - after some crafty work Shaan, 'the native indian', was seperated from us tourists and made to walk around the perimeter of the Taj Mahal before entering. However we entered immediately with our seemingly premium tickets. We all agreed that Shaan had endured enough punishment for getting away with the ticket that cost him half that of a tourist, and thus we quickly forgave him. The sun drew down around the ground and we headed back for the night.

Rhys

Goodbye Delhi!

Since arriving in Delhi we have stayed in two different hostels, both cost us 500 rupees (about £5) each, per night. The Ajay Guest House was, literally, a building site, with one corner of the building seemingly being removed and replaced from top to bottom. Fortunately, the tireless work force did down tools before we were ready to sleep each night. The grandly-named 'Gold Regency' replaced hammers and drills with horns, sirens and prayer calls from the nearby mosque.

The rooms were much of a muchness, one double and one single bed in each. Our first experience of Indian bathrooms has been exactly that - an experience! We are yet to learn the purpose of the large bucket and plastic jug that appears as standard (any thoughts to willthorp91@gmail.com, thanks)... All three of us have taken quickly to the toilet feature eloquently dubbed the 'arse wash'. Turning a small tap at the side of the loo quickly deems paper redundant. The Gold Regency must have splashed out on this kit, fired into the open it sends a powerful jet crashing into the wall opposite!

Outside, the main bazaar is a taste of Delhi never to be forgotten. If there is one clothes stall, drinks counter, money changer on this kilometre stretch, there are 20. The inexperienced struggle to forge a path through the sea of touts, merchants, tuk-tuks, rickshaws and the occasional cow. White faces are stopped at every door, greeted pleasantly and, if not careful, swiftly fleeced for whatever they are worth!

Our first escape from the bazaar came with our walk to Connaught Place, the central circle of Pahar Gangh. Here the market stalls, dodgy tourist offices and street vendors collide with Costa and McDonald's in an unlikely marriage of India and the West.

On the first full day spent in Delhi we decided to sight-see on foot. This proved to be a top decision in one sense and less so in another. Walking the streets of Delhi allowed us a glimpse of how the city lives, right down to its considerable homeless population. In a taxi or tuk-tuk it is all to easy to ignore or miss your surroundings. The downside to walking is that, in a city so vast, you get little done. In one full day we managed a distant gaze (and plenty of photos) at India Gate, temporarily closed to visitors and guarded by heavily armed police, and a stroll round the modern art gallery. We were soon to learn that taking to the road held serious advantages.

The following day brought with it cold, pouring rain and a wholesale change to the shape of our plans for India. What began as a walk to the train station to make some ticket inquiries ended in paying a tour company to drive us around Delhi for the remainder of that day and the next and to guide us through Agra and Rajasthan. So as I write, we are sat in a car with Aamir our new friend and driver, on a 6 hour drive to Agra. The Taj Mahal lies in wait...



(The sightseeing picked up rapidly over the last couple of days. We have seen countless temples, mosques and museums.
Picks of the bunch:

The Red Fort

Swaminarayan Akshardham - A Hindu temple and so much more. By consensus of the three of us the most beautiful and awe-inspiring place in Delhi.

Indira Gandhi Museum -
The assassinated prime minister (over two separate terms) of India is hero worshiped by the people here.)

Will

Day 1: Touch Down

After a few emotional goodbyes, ample photos (making sure to include every possible combination of family) and 'the last supper' (courtesy of mama & papa thorp/sri-path, the three of us scuttled through security before emotion got the better of our mothers.

 A few hours of your typical duty free browsing...sun glass hut, headphones book store drill and off to departures. Here we were met by virgins. Finest staff. 3 beaming ladies informing us that they had the pleasure of upgrading the 3 travellers to 'premium economy'. Queue too many excited hi-5's and immediate condemnation of all the poor regular folk. I mean as Virgin's marketing gurus will tell you...who doesn't pay that little bit extra to turn a seat into a space!

 The 8 hours spent on the flight was in stark contrast for what hit us on arrival. Will, sporting what he would describe, as 'the finest' of straw hats made an immediate target for the touts. Me and rhys not far behind with our looks of utter bewilderment. After a failed attempt to board the defunct metro we ambled over to the 'Delhi police pre-paid taxi kiosk'.  Will quickly learnt that there are two prices in India. 1. Small note price 2. Large note price. Luckily, this KPMG accountant wasn't in any frame of mind of lose this mental arithmetic battle. And after a bit of finger wagging correct change was extracted from this hustler. 

 Any pleasure I gained from witnessing this was short lived. To my horror a small tug on the sliding door to the 'official delhi taxi' and the handle cracked right off. Heart racing, and visions of a 'million rupee repair job' I was relieved that he barley seemed to notice and I was able to bury the offending article deep under a seat. He had his sweet revenge however. Those of you who know me might have witnessed my terror when in the car with maniacs,  (charlie LPT), or in an old skoda with no mirrors (fabian M-F), but this guy didn't hold a candle to the previous experiences. Swerving in and out of traffic, no lane discipline and screaming tales/ excuses of 'young blood' and every indian driver is michael Schumacher. Anyway, we made it to a hostel, somehow.

Shaan