Dan: Well, Karin has been given the all-clear from the doctors here - turns out she had a touch of dysentery, but a large course of antibiotics have (hopefully) cleared that up!
So we're all set for our 6:00am flight back to the UK tomorrow morning!

Then we have 4 days of rapid preparation (i.e. re-packing!) before we fly out to Tokyo on Monday 5th December.

So, updating of this blog won't happen for a few days - but when I get a chance I'll update the last couple of days with more info and some photos, and hopefully some  info on Tokyo, as that's where we'll be!

Dan: Karin woke me early this morning in a lot of discomfort, and we decided we'd take her to see a doctor.
We rang the British Embassy when they opened to find out where a good doctor was located.
They directed us to the East-West Medical Centre in Delhi, a privately run clinic and hospital.

We went to see a doctor there, and he diagnosed Karin as suffering from acute Gastroenteritis.

So... they have admitted her overnight whilst they do blood and stool tests.
Hopefully it's just a bacterial infection that can be treated with antibiotics, as we're due to fly out in 36 hours...!

We'll find out tomorrow.

Dan: I'm not very well today - I seem to have the same case of Delhi Belly that Karin is just recovering from.
I spent all of yesterday in bed, and today we had to catch the train from Haridwar back to Delhi.

The train took 4 hours, and I knew we'd get a meal.
But I wasn't expecting a four course meal! Especially when I couldn't eat any of it...
The srvice was incredible, they were serving food for the whole 4 hours. And the legroom was great, much better than on any train or plane I've been on.
And all this for £8!! GNER could learn a lot from this...

We arrived into Delhi at 10:30pm, and went straight to our hotel and to bed.
I started taking some antibiotics 2 days ago, and was hoping that I'd get some relief soon, as I'm in quite a bit of pain.
Karin seems much better, although she's been eating more food than she should.

Dan: Karin had a hugh fever last night (39.3 degrees C), and a lot of stomach cramps, so it was decided that I'd go and do teh rafting by myself.
Karin was feeling a lot better this morning, but not well enough to get up.

I have lots of photos from the rafting, and it was a lot of fun, but I'll upload the text and photos in a few days, once you read the rest of the posts you'll understand why.

Dan: Well, the only thing to report over the last couple of days is that we have both been sick! First I got a bad cold, then Karin got a mild case of Delhi Belly, then I got Delhi Belly, then I got a bad cold again, then Karin got a bad cold! It almost sounds like a comedy act when spelled out like that...

Today is the first day that I've been feeling better.
We've both booked onto a White Water Rafting trip for tomorrow, which will raft 36km of the Ganga - I'm really looking forward to it.

Karin has come down with a bad tummy again today, so I went out for a walk to the next village, trying to find the original Transcendental Meditation centre. I couldn't find it, but found a lovely place to sit by the Ganga and meditate.

On the way back, I found another Westerner's shop, run by a lovely Indian woman and her little boy...


Westerner's Shop

I also thought I'd include a photo of the main square at Laxman Jhula, for no other reason than I accicenlt uploaded it!


Laxman Jhula Circle

(Editor's Note: Karin has yet to type up her diary entries from this day forward, so you'll be getting mine alone until she has time to do them... and then they will auto-magically appear!)

Dan: Both Karin and I were feeling quite a bit better today, so we made an early afternoon expedition to Karin's beach (as I know it!).
Karin has been out running and swimming most mornings (at about 5:00am!!! How cold is the Ganga then???!), and she discovered a lovely swimming spot about 1km up the road from the village.

We spent a lovely afternoon here talking and reading, and cautiously watching the monkeys who would occasionally advance towards us (they could smell our tangerines!).
The beaches on the Ganga are incredibly - beautiful white soft sand.
We were confused about this at first (I don't remember having come across many rivers with whites sandy beaches before!), but when we went up into the Himalayas, it became clear - further up the river, all the cliffs are made of sand-stone - hence all the landslides. When the stone crumbles (into sand!) it gets carried down river and deposited on the shores.

On this beach, there was so much sand that a massive sand dune had formed.
So we sat on the sand dune, ate our lunch, read our books, and generally just enjoyed the sun.


Karin's Beach


Karin trying to "surf" the sand dune...
 

Dan: Well, I now officially have a bad cold - I was bed-ridden all day yesterday, but feeling marginally better today, so I decided to have a go at fixing the power adapter for Karin's laptop (wow, aren't my blog posts really exciting??!).
Once again, I didn't have the right tools, parts, or information for my job, but felt I could cobble something together.
Ever since I was young, I've enjoyed pulling things to pieces to see how they work, and this has left me with a gut feel on how to fix things - especially electrical and electronic things (although it left my parents occasionally frustrated, for if they gave me anything electronic or mechanical for Xmas or my birthday, it was invariably in pieces within 2 hours... one time at Xmas I remember having begged my father to have a play with a very old battery powered car that he had had as a child - it came complete with a petrol station that contained a battery to charge the car. I think my father was very fond of it, and so I was overjoyed when they gave it to me for Xmas, along with a stern admonition that I was to take good care of it as it had sentimental value. The warning must have really hit home, as it was at least 3 hours before it was in pieces, and I was using the motor from the car as the engine for cable car system that could transport my lego people from one side of my room to the other... The guilt still lives with me today!!)

I got a rickshaw into Rishikesh to see if I could find some parts that could be modified for use - and luckily, I found that the earphone plug for a Nokia phone hands-free kit has the same core plug as an Apple power adapter. Off to a good start then...

And so, with the Nokia part, some judicial use of sellotape and wax, and also with some cable that I liberated from the wall-fan in our room (I see it as a service as I re-wired it back up much more safely than it had been!)... I created a new power-adapter. And what's more, it worked! Yay! For about 2 hours, I was in my element, building all the little tools and parts I would need...


Dan hard at work

Karin: It's the evening of the 17th as I write this. The last few days have been spent very lazily, dozing and reading. We're starting to relax out here now. There were a few days of culture shock but this has abated now and we’re just enjoying a lot of relaxing hours doing not very much in particular. Dan picked up a cold a few days ago and so he’s a little below par. Thankfully my stomach is feeling robust again. The incessant chanting of the Diwali celebrations has finally ceased and we are enjoying the peace. The noisy Israelis who were also plaguing our lives when we first arrived have also left (HOORAY!) so things are fine and dandy.
 
Other good news, Dan appears to have fixed my computer – the power supply broke inside the computer about 10 days ago. The little miracle worker has taken the whole thing apart and extracted the broken piece. Can’t wait to watch a DVD!

Dan: OK, well I'm not going to bother writing too much today, a it would be a really boring thing to read!
I feel like I'm coming down with something, so am keeping a low profile roudn the hotel today.
In an effort to keep myself occupied (and also cause I really want to!) I decided to take Karin's laptop completely to pieces to see if I could remove the broken off portion of her power adapter (regular readers may recall that we broke it on Day 8).
Only three things were standing in my way:
1) I've never taken a Mac laptop to pieces before
2) I had none of the correct tools
3) Karin! erm... don't worry dear, I'll put it all back together, and it'll be as good as new, I promise.

Anyway, no boring details - I got it to pieces, removed the offending part, and got it all back together again.

We then spent the evening on the balcony, reading books as the sun set.
This is really a gorgeous place!

(Have yet to upload the photos of a sunset, but they're worth it, so check back on this page).

Karin: The Kamath family had to leave early this morning. I got up early to say goodbye as I didn’t want their last memory of me to be the green-tinged misery that I was last night. We bid each other farewell and as they headed back to Delhi. Dan and I jumped into a shared auto-rickshaw that was heading back to Laxman Jhula. After a freezing cold ride crammed into the back of this rickshaw with far too many people in it we were relieved to get back to the Hotel Divya and all of its relative comforts.

Dan: When we went to leave the hotel in Haridwar, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the Kamath's had paid for our room - yet another example of their generosity! We gave them heartfelt thanks, and also expressed gratitude for the chance to see another side of India, feeling like we were experiencing it a bit more as Indians ourselves.
I hadn't brought a jacket with me, so I was freezing cold on the ride back to Laxman Jhula, the only relief being that we were relatively war, as we were packed into a 6 person rickshaw with 8 Indian women, who were chattering away to us in Hindi!

When we got to Laxman Jhula, we stopped at the local Westerner's shop to get some cleaning supplies - today was the day we were going to tackle our bathroom.
Although our room and view were lovely, there was a continual pungent smell coming from the bathroom, which we thought might have been because it had never been cleaned properly - so we thought we'd have a go.

I'm not going to cover the rest of the day here, as it's not too exciting - suffice to say that my way of cleaning a bathroom that is covered floor to ceiling in tiles is to close the door, splash chlorine on all available surfaces, and lose myself in the scrubbing.

About the only exciting thing to happen today is when some monekys appeared above our room, and then came down onto the terrace - at first we thought they were cute, but they were monkeys with a purpose: they were here to steal Karin's bag of nuts - and so they advanced menancingly at us, hissing.
And rather than get into a scrap, we decided just to leave the nuts for the monkeys...

 
Monkeys above our room, about to steal the nuts

Normally the monkeys are rather cute, and look something like this...

Mother monkey and her baby

After a full days cleaning and washing, we fell to bed exhausted.
Being on holiday can be such hard work, you know??!

Karin: After a reasonably relaxed start this morning I discovered that Amrita and her family had decided to stop off in Laxman Jhula before proceeding down to Haridwar for the Diwali ceremony. We made an arrangement to meet up by the bridge and it was confirmed that Daniel and I should join them for the Haridwar festivities. Haridwar is one of the sacred sites to host the Kumb Mela – a gathering in which 6 million Indians gather on the banks of the holy Ganges for a little communal soul purification. The Kumb cycles through about 8 different locations along the Ganges and happens every 12 years. The event we were to participate in was a much smaller affair. We all bundled into the Kamath family taxi. Mr Kamath had taken his student Vijay with him on his 'plein air' painting tour. Vijay was a delightful man from Bangalore.

Dan: We stopped in Rishikesh so that Amrita's family could buy us some treats - in this case, some sweet candies made from milk products. It turns out that most of the sweet treats in India are made from milk products - something I hadn't known.
Whilst we were there, Amrita's father explained that in traditional Indian culture, there were 3 groups of people that should be treated as "gods": Parents, Teachers... and foreigners! Because of this, Amrita's family insisted on paying for everything, and were determined that we enjoy as much Indian culture as possible.
I must admit, I felt very humbled about this - it's something that would seem so foreign in our culture, but it explains why you hear so much about the Indian culture of kindness and generosity to foreigners travelling in India.
Vijay was also very respectful about his "master", Amrita's father, and said that it was a real privilege to be his student.
I got the feeling that the bond between them was more father-son than anything else, but it was still a bond of mutual respect and love.

Karin: The plan was that we should stay in a special shrine created by a man of the same caste as the Kamath family, but owing to the festivities all the guest rooms were full. We ventured, thus, into town to try and find a room. We finally found a place, dumped our bags and went for some lunch.


Statue of Shiva at Haridwar 

Dan: As we walked through the grounds of the temple, I noticed how many more Sadhus there were here than anywhere else. Vijay exmplained to me that it was a community's responsibility to ensure that Sadhu's were fed and sheltered, and that the temple here was one of many places that would feed the Sadhus three times a day, as long as the Sadhus spent their time in meditation.
Vijay also expained the significance of the orange robes that all Sadhus wear: the colour they wear is saffron, and signifies an offering, in this case the offering of the Sadhu's life to the gods, to ponder life and study the existence of being.

Karin: After lunch we proceeded to a very secluded bathing spot that adjoined the temple where we had originally planned to stay. Here we took a holy dip together, although having no change of clothes Daniel and the girlies just paddled up to our knees. Amrita showed Daniel and I how to do a sacred sun offering.


 

Bathing in the Ganga


Dan and Amrita's familty

Before too long it was time for us to head off to the festival of lights. We arrived just a few moments too late as thousands of leaf baskets containing rose-petals, marigolds and flaming torches were cast off into the dark torrent of the Ganges. We cast off our own offerings and then headed into town for a spot of sari shopping.


Karin and Amrita and their flower baskets

After much deliberation and consultation, I came away with a lovely golden silk sari with black trim. Unfortunately I wasn’t feeling too well by this time and I had to take my leave rather rapidly to avoid an embarrassing scene! Amrita kindly accompanied me back to the hotel where after being sick, I retired into a woozy haze. Thankfully Daniel saved the day and was able to reassure our worried hosts that I would live to see another day. 

Dan: Amrita's family took me to a local restaurant called "Big Ben", complete with a picture of the tower itself (which is called St Stephen's Tower - it's the bell that's called Big Ben, and Daniel that's called "pedantic"...!).
We all had lovely Chinese dishes - I've never had a chowmein with Indian spice in it before!
One thing that Amrita explained to me is that Indian's love things in both Salty and Sweet flavours - so, if you order a lassi (a drink made from yoghurt), you can get it salty or sweet - and, if you order a lime soda, you can also get this salty or sweet! I mention this as Amrita's mother ordered a salty lime soda - which I couldn't bring myself to try!
The funny thing about this restaurant, is that no-one seemed to have any clue what Big Ben actually was, or where it was!
After dinner, I retired back to our hotel room to check on my patient - who was feeling a bit better for having had a bit of sleep.

Karin: The 4.20 alarm call was most unwelcome this morning. Both Dan and I endured an ice-cold morning wash with stoicism but when we finally emerged at 5.00 the heavenly sight of a myriad twinkling stars in a huge, jet-black sky made our pains worth all the while (Dan: well, sort of!). The air is so clear at this altitude that the night sky is really magnificent. We awoke Sundar who had taken to sleeping in the car as a way to pocket his Rs 200 per day allowance and before long we were winding our way back down to the valleys. 

Dan: One thing I've noticed on our road trip so far, is that 90%of the cars are made by a company called TATA. And this one company makes a massive range of cars - imagine if all the different cars you see on a normal day at home (all the models and makes) were made by the same company - and that's what it's like. It turns out that TATA (who also do phone networks) are a division of Hindustan Motors, who make the Ambassador. The only other car manufacturer in India is Mahindra, who make jeeps - TATA make everything else - the cars, the buses, the trucks, the vans - you name it.
It's very rare to see anything other than a TATA car - and if you do, it is likely to be a Suzuki.

Karin: The place that Bhuta Ram had selected for us as our final taste of Himalayan beauty was a walk from the small village of Sari to an area called Deviatal with a famous view of the mountain range mirrored in a lake.  We had set off so early because it is only early in the morning that one can see these views. Thus it was that at around 6.30 am we again set off up another mountain, this time with a local guide called Mr Negi. Mr Negi was a very endearing fellow. As we walked up we were accompanied by a large number of village women from Sari, carrying large baskets on their backs to fill with fallen leaves, to use as winter bedding for the cattle. The sight of all these joyfully colored sari-clad women climbing the hill with their baskets and rustling about in the leaves in the early morning sunshine was like living poetry. Mr Negi stopped on occasion to talk to them. As we walked up, an elderly man passed us who evidently, had a small café at the top and had decided that our potential trade was worth the climb up.


Women collecting leaves
 
The view over the lake as we came over the brow of the hill was well worth our strenuous climb and in spite of filming restrictions by order of the Indian government, Mr Negi was keen to give us a filmed narrative of all the peaks he had climbed.

 
 
Views from the Reflection Lake at Deviatal

After offering our patronage to the café owner we began our descent via Mr Negi's plantation where he explained to us, in depth and with great enthusiasm, that he was working on a project involving a plantation of special medicinal plants. He insisted that on returning to England we should mention the project to our government as he had great hopes to heal the world. He gave us a few samples of his magical plants.


Mr Negi in his plantation

Dan: Mr Negi also showed us round his climbing school, where he teaches children how to rock climb (and gave us a demonstration).
He was very proud of his qualifications and experience (as he should be) and explained how he's climbed most of the peaks we could see from the top - what was fanatastic is that he knew the name and story of each and every one.


Mr Negi demonstrating rock climbing

Karin: By the time we returned to the taxi and our driver, we were thoroughly charmed by Mr Negi and his enthusiastic and altruistic vision so we gave him Rs 1000 (a small fortune in this part of the Himalayas) as a donation to his enterprise. This he received with much gratitude and sent us off with  a bunch of marigolds picked from his garden.
 
The return drive to Laxman Jhula lasted about 7 hours and seemed to go on forever. When we finally arrived back we parted ways with Sundar, his Ambassador and yet another large tip. It was with much gratitude that we walked back to our room and the promise of hot water, clean clothes and a more temperate place to spend the night.

Karin: We emerged at about 10.00 am, packed up some dal and rice and set off for the trail bound for the peak Chandrosila which towered above us at 4090 mtrs. We both struggled to begin with as even at 3,000 meters the air was quite thin and we seemed to be getting exhausted with even the slightest bit of exertion. As we walked up we stopped to chat to a girl called Amrita who is here on pilgrimage from Bombay with her family. She spoke wonderful English and as we made our way up the mountain in fits and starts we struck up a really good conversation.

Dan: Lessons I have learned today: never go hiking in thermal underwear...! It was very cold this morning, but being able to stay in bed till 9:00am made it worth it... The walk up the "hill" at Chopta was rather steep - Chopta is at 3000m, and when we reached the top, we'd climbed another 1000m to a height of 4000m. Karin, being the super-woman she is, decided to go bush and hike cross-country up the last 300m or so - by the time I reached the top, I was too shattered to do anything but collapse for 5 minutes. But when I recovered, and looked around, I was spellbound.
We've been seeing glimpses of the Himalayas for a few days now, and at Badrinath, a few peaks were visible.
But here.. we were surrounded by them. It was magical - the sort of views you see on posters or something, and think, "Wow"...

 
The view from Chadrosila
 
Karin: The view from the top of Chadrosila was breathtaking. We had a glorious panorama of the peaks of Kedarnath (6970m) Chaukumba (7070m) to the North and North West and the more distant peaks of Trishul (7120m) and Nanda Ghuti (6310m) to the east. We sat on the top and talked philosophy and spirituality with Amrita before making our way down in the gently fading light of the late afternoon.  We made it back to our camp down in Chopta some time before Amrita, and struck up a conversation with her father who was a professional painter in Bombay. He showed us his sensitive depictions of the mountains of Kedarnath and the shrine of Tungnath that we had passed on our way to the top. When Amrita returned, we agreed that we would try and meet up with them for the final event of Diwali to be held down in the valleys in a town called Haridwar, not far from Laxman Jula. We exchanged contacts and waved them off as they set off for their long drive down to the valleys. That night we ate again by the light of the tilly lamp and made plans for the next day and our return to Laxman Jhula.


Karin and Dan at top of Chadrosila


A barely visible Dan and Amrita at the top 

Dan: When we arrived back at the bottom, we had some difficulty understanding the plan for tomorrow. It sounded like the driver wanted us to leave at 5:00am the next morning, but we wanted to confirm this, just in case we got ourselves up early and found he was still asleep.
We got Amrita's father to translate, and found that thuis was right - we had another hill to climb tomorrow, and we had to start early and finish early so that we would be well on the 7-hour journey back to Laxman Jhula before it got dark.

Dan: Holy Batman!!! Talk about cold… The alarm went off at 5:00am this morning so we'd have time to get ready, and I swear, you couldn't get me out of my sleeping bag for all the rupees in India!!
Our bucket of hot water arrived at 5:05am, and we had a quick wash, in preparation for our 3 hour drive.
We had bought a pack of cornflakes from the store yesterday, but having no milk, we had to have cold water and cornflakes for breakfast. Oh, the injustice! I'm such a wuss...!


Can you say "happy Daniel"??!

Karin: That morning we realized why we had been given such an early alarm call. As the road to Badrinath is only a single track, traffic coming from each direction is allotted specific times to leave, from a number a checkpoints. In theory, this means that you never meet traffic coming down in the opposite direction. In practice it would seem that road officials will be swayed by offers of baksheesh (bribes) and so it was that on numerous occasions we encountered lorries and buses coming in the opposite direction on the most treacherous bends – a few more heart in mouth moments where we were forced to reverse right up to gravelly sheer edges to allow huge trucks of insouciant Indians past. The road up to Badrinath was astonishingly beautiful. It felt almost as though we were driving along a mountain footpath with the peaks towering above us, and the Ganges cascading down at the bottom of the abyss just a few meters away from where we sat. Our taxi driver, Sundar, soon became accustomed to our numerous requests for photo stops.


View of the Ganga from the road to Badrinath

Dan: I have to make a quick comment about all the "slow down" road signs on these roads - they must hire a poet to write them, because they all rhyme, and they're all hilarious!
Some examples are:

"No whiskey, less risky"
"For safe arriving, less liquor in driving"
and my personal favorite:

"Do not gossip, let him drive"


Typical road sign

Karin: At around 9.00 am we cleared the passes and drove up into the small mountain town of Badrinath or 'Badri' as it is known locally. It is extraordinary to think that these whole communities depend on such an undependable byway. A little food is grown locally but especially in these high and remote places, the vast majority of the food must be brought up from the valleys by truck. One shudders to think about the consequences of an earthquake in such an exposed and vulnerable region. The recent Kashmir earthquake is a timely reminder of just how fragile these communities can be when at the mercy of the phenomenal natural forces that have created these great mountain ranges. The following week, the whole of the town was due to shut down and move down to the lower town of Josimath for the colder winter months, so were there on one of the final days before this annual ritual closure of the shrine.

The Hindus believe that to fulfill the goal of self-realization – the pursuit of 'Moksha' (the eternal peace after death), it is desirable to travel to the 4 shrines of god, which lie at the 4 corners of the country, Puri Jagan Nath, Rameshwaram, Dwarka and finally Badrinath. People have been traveling to this shrine long before the Himalayan mountain passes were built, as Badrinath is mythically known as the place where India was born. It is said in mythology that it is historical Hindu figure of Anshuman who began the task of bringing the Ganges down from heaven to earth. He failed in his task as did his son Dilip, but the grandson, King Bhagirath meditated long and hard at Gangotri, a small village about 80 kms to the left of Badrinath, as the crow flies. After several years of intense meditation, the Ganges (or Ganga as known by the Indian people) descended from heaven and remained in suspense in the coils of Shiva’s hair. The king continued his meditation to Shiva and Shiva, being pleased, released the Ganges as 3 streams.

It is impossible to overstate the reverence the Indian people hold for this sacred river. Its entire length is considered to be a holy site – as important as any temple. And when one takes a ‘holy dip’ in the Ganga, it is believed that all sins are cleansed. This bodes well for me as, with all my mornings swims, I must now be as pure as the driven snow!

The tradition at Badrinath is to receive Darshan (a blessing) at the temple and then bathe in the hot springs just beneath the temple. We had brought a drawing of a mandala made by Rita, the daughter of my good friends - Lee and Melissa and had been dispatched on a  mission to finding a holy man to hold it whilst we took a picture as a memory for Rita. We were finally able to find a willing swami who traded a picture for the purchase of a magnificent garland made from marigolds  to place on the holy shrine.


Swami and mandala

We then proceeded up to the temple where we received Darshan.


Karin in front of the temple at Badrinath

This is a similar ritual to that of the holy communion. You are offered small sweets and lentils and a teaspoon of holy water infused with marigold petals. It really was very special to be there under the deep blue sky of the Himalayas where the air was as clear as a bell and where even the November sun bore down on us with real ferocity. Outside in the galleries around the temple there were a number of holy men offering more in-depth blessings. Several monks approached us, welcoming us warmly and saying that it was very auspicious that we were there. Few westerners seem to make it up to these shrines as they are well off the main tourist track. We were ushered over by another Swami who took us through an elaborate ritual where we had to announce 'Swaha' quite a few times whist throwing lentils into a fire – we were also asked to chase each other around the pillars of his small shrine. After we, our families, our friends and our future children (Dan: what??!) had been thoroughly blessed, we made our way down to the hot springs to bathe. Daniel was fine as he was able to bathe with his shorts, but women in India must bathe fully clothed so I muddled my way as well as I could with a swimming costume and a wide scarf that I used as a sarong. I’m not sure what the Indian women there thought of me!

 
Bathing in the holy spring water at Badrinath

Once our sins were, once again, ritually rinsed away, Dan and I met up again on the stairway leading up to the shrine. It was here that we bumped into the only other westerners in Badrinath – a German tour guide called Ralf and one of his clients. After chatting to them and getting some good advice about trekking, we headed off, back to Josimath, and our next destination – Chopta, a further 7 hours drive away. After being jiggled and shaken for 7 hours more, we arrived by moonlight in Chopta, a tiny little settlement with no mains power. We were ushered into a glacially cold room and our hosts graciously started up their generator so we had a few hours of light. We ate by the light of a tilly lamp (yet another excruciatingly strong curry) before retiring to our ice-cold room and the snug comfort of our sleeping bags.
 

Karin: We met up with our taxi driver this morning. He is to be our guide for the next 5 days as we set off to explore the Uttaranchal section of the Himalayas. We had been given a recommendation by a Sadhu a few days previously to visit a sacred shrine called Shri Badrinath that is at the end of one of the mountain trails that reaches deep into the Himalayas. Our taxi driver spoke hardly a word of English, so after some jumbled negotiations, we decided that it would be easier to drive back to his boss’s office at Triveni Travels to discuss the requested changes to our itinerary. What, in England, would probably be a simple 5 minute conversation, turned in to an hour-long audience with Bhuta Ram, the big boss at Triveni. After tea and much waiting around whilst Bhuta Ram conducted business on the telephone, we finally negotiated our new itinerary which was to involve an extra 2 days of traveling (for the 24-hour drive to Badrinath and back(!!!) and some 3,000 extra rupees. After buying supplies for our trip we set off for our 9 hour drive to Josimath, from where we would make the 3 hour drive along single track roads up to Badrinath at 3,065 meters.

Dan: When we stopped for supplies in Laxman Jhula, I went into a new shop, one that I hadn't been to before - I was pleasantly surprised to find that this was a westerner's shop, in that it sold all manner of things that one would expect to find back home – such as Pringles, Lindt chocolate, Dove soap, shampoo… and cleaning products!
I bought some chocolate as a treat, and mentioned to Karin that we should stop by the shop when we got back to buy cleaning supplies for attacking the bathroom.
 

Karin: Neither Dan nor I could possibly have known what we were letting ourselves in for – 9 hours of the most treacherous, disintegrating roads I have ever had the joy to travel along. About 20 kms along the 263km road to Badrinath we encountered our first of many landslides that had partially blocked the pass. Even with my spirit for adventure, I must confess that my heart was in my mouth for much of the following 3 days as we negotiated mile upon mile of these treacherous trails. The little car that transported us all this long way was an 'Ambassador' – an Indian-made car modeled on one of the early British cars brought to India during the occupation. In spite of the challenging terrain, it proved itself to be incredibly steadfast and reliable. Having said this, some 30 or 40 kms into our first day of driving, the car developed an alarming rattle. After several stops and a lot of poking around in the boot, our driver decided that our rattle was not critical and so we squeaked and clattered our way a further 50 or so kilometers until finally the errant part must have fallen off as, blissfully, although somewhat worryingly, the rattling suddenly ceased. We soon forgot these concerns as we peered up at very large and precarious boulders that perched above us whenever we negotiated a severely eroded section of road. And so on we went, and on and on, until finally at 7.00 or 8.00pm we finally reached Josimath.

 
Examples of the type of road we were following (click to enlarge)

Dan: Our driver made frequent chai stops – a stop for a cup of tea and possibly a pee! I must admit, I'm getting very fond of the sweet spiced tea, so was alwas very happy when we stopped!


Typical road-side chai cafe

As we got further and further away from Laxman Jhula, we noticed evidence that we were leaving tourist frequented places – the signs stopped having a double translation in English, and the people in the roadside cafes quite often didn’t speak English.
We stopped for lunch at a little café where we had some dal (the local curry served up here) and some roti (kown as chapati up here – basically unleavened bread).


Karin and Dan at lunch

We arrived into Josimath at about 6:00pm. Josimath is at an altitude of about 2000m so it was much colder than it was down at Laxman Jhula - fortunately, we were prepared and had packed our thermal underwear - which we quickly dug out and put on.
Having checked into the guest house (and requested a bucket of hot water for the morning - there was no hot running water) we went out for dinner to a local restaurant.
We discovered the food up here is a lot hotter than down south - I almost burnt my mouth out on biting into what I thought was a capsicum, but was instead a green chilli... Doh!
There were some teenage boys in the restaurant, helping with the serving, and they were having great fun practicing their English on us, calling each other "dunce-heads" and generally just calling each other names!
I was quite impressed that there was a large poster showing Mt Cook (in New Zealand) on the wall – go little NZ!!
We got back to the hotel at 8:00pm, and our driver told us that we would need to leave at 6:00am for the 3 hour drive to Badrinath – apparently the road up the mountains is single lane, and they only let traffic go up at certain times. Badrinath is 1200m higher than Josimath, at about 3200 metres.
We were alarmed to see that our driver, Sandar, was going to sleep in the back of the car, but he had a thick blanket and seemed quite happy.
So we piled into our sleeping bags.. I'm not looking forward to the temperature tomorrow morning!

Dan: Today was pretty much an uneventful day.
We were resting before starting our Himalayan trekking tomorrow, so we spent the day wandering around town, checking emails, and exploring.

The suspension bridge called Laxman Jhula was built in 1929 when the original bridge was washed away in a flood.
Apparently, it's wide enough to carry a jeep, but I suspect they mean some sort of small 1930's era jeep, as there is no way you'd get a car on it today!
What's funny, is that the bridge is used by people, cows, and motorcycles.
Because the bridge is always packed with people, the motorcyclists have to continuously beep their horns until people clear out of the way.
Back in the UK, if a motorcyclist did this to you, you'd think them quite rude (and would possibly do what I do, which is get even more in their way!) but over here people take it in their stride, and it's all pretty easy going.

I must admit, I'm starting to get into my stride here – the stress and "got to keep going all the time" attitude (that I picked up in the UK after my last 18-month project) seems to be dropping away, and I'm starting to really relax.

The bridge really is something to behold – the Ganga is quite wide at this point, and the bridge sways with the movement of the people on it.
On the east bank (the side on which the village is on) there are two temples next to bridge – in fact, the standard photo of Rishikesh that people see is actually a photo looking across this bridge towards the two temples.

 
Looking south, and then north from the middle of the bridge


Temple located to the left of the bridge


German Bakery and Cafe located next to the bridge

The hotel we're staying up is up a pathway from the main road, and is about halfway down the main road of the village.
Looking left and right down theroad you can see lots and lots of little shops selling clothes and scarves and jewellery, with a smattering of crisps, bottled water, and toilet paper thrown in for good measure!
There is a general store located opposite to our pathway which is useful for water, snacks, and toilet paper.

 
Looking north, and south down the main road


Looking down the pathway from the hotel to the main road - the guy sitting on the path is a snake charmer, with a very lazy cobra in the basket!


The General Store, where we buy our supplies

We unpacked Karin's laptop today so that she could get on with some work, and discovered to our annoyance that the plug for her power supply had broken – it was actually the plug that goes into the back of the laptop that had broken. I tried pushing part of it into the laptop, and then holding the other part against it, but I just ended up jamming the broken part in her laptop… ooops!
I did some research online to see if we could get a replacement part (which we an), but there's not much chance of getting one here in India.
Maybe I'll have a go repairing it when we get back – although Apple tend to use customized parts, I notice that for their power supply they use a 2.5mm stereo jack as the main portion… cool, an exciting electronics project to mull over!
The internet connectivity here is not very good - all teh cyber cafes here seem to have a 56k dial-up modem which is shard between all the computers, so updating this blog will take some time. Still, at least we're connected to the outside world, for which I'm grateful!
Part of me wonders if maybe I should spend this month in isolation from the outside world, and use it as an opportunity have some "me" time - I'll play it by ear and see how I feel.
Although Karin has work to do here, and has set herself goals for every day, I'm just here to do nothing - literally. I just need to recharge my batteries, both physically and spiritually.

It is Martin and Claire's last day here today – they went white water rafting on the Ganga and recommended it, so I think we'll give it a go after the trekking.

We all went out to dinner tonight to a local restaurant and had a lovely meal – I'll be sorry to see them go as they’ve been great company.

The evening was a lot quieter tonight – apparently we're still at the end of the Diwali festival, hence all the canting (which tends to be amplified through rather bad amplifiers, and echoes down the valley).
Tonight, however, we could hear only one or two sources of chanting, and it sounded sublime – that and the bells ringing.
The evenings here are magical, as the sun sets and it starts to cool down.
During the day it reaches 28 degrees or so, but in the evening it becomes very pleasant, and it's lovely to sit out on the terrace with a chai and look at the view.

We've noticed that every night a strong wind starts up and blows down the valley, and then stops again as the sun starts to warm the area – I'm sure this must be some sort of convection wind, but I'm don't know too much about the weather.
So far, every day here has been sunny and cloudless – just an endless expanse of blue skies framed b the tall wooded hills that make up the foothills of the Himalayas.

Karin: Today was my first full day of work and so I ripped through the room, imposing my systems on poor Daniel who is probably cursing the fact that I have slipped into efficiency mode whilst on holiday. Still, it was necessary and I now have enough structure to enable me to accomplish what I have to get done over the next few weeks.

Dan: I got the feeling that it was best for me to leave Karin alone to do her organizing, so I headed out exploring with Martin and Claire.
There was an old abandoned ashram (i.e. a temple) down the road towards Ram Jhula, and Martin was convinced that this was where the Beatles had stayed when they visited Rishikesh in the 1960s.
I'm not so sure it is - it might be, but I think the Beatles stayed at the Transcendental Meditation ashram of Maherishi Mahesh Yogi (given that I'm a TM student myself, I know his name!) which is further down in Ram Jhula. As an aside, in case you care, the town of Ram Jhula is also known as Swarg Ashram after the famous ashram there. Swarg means "heaven", and the ashram is where pilgrims who were visiting the four Char Dhams in the Himalayas woudl come and sign in. That way, if they were lost or killed, their relatives (and authorities) would know that they passed by.
Given that there were no paths or roads to the Char Dhams in those days, the journey to visit them could take 2 years or so.
2 years!! On foot! With no possessions!!! These are very dedicated people we're talking about here!

After this, we wandered into Ram Jhula, and walked across the bridge there into the market on the other side. We stopped at an Ayeurvedic Pharmacy to see what they had for malaria (just in case) - I was a bit disappointed when he gave me some insect repellant with DEET in it, which is what we bought in Britain - I was expecting some kind of Himalayan recipe, but he said that DEET was the best stuff - I'm not going to argue with that!
We also tried some little cakes from a street merchant - they looked like pancakes in syrup, and I (having a whole mouthful of "sweet teeth" (although Yes, they're all full of fillings!)) was desperate to try some. They ended up being potato cakes, served with gravy and some lentils in a leaf. It was very very yummy, but we were a bit concerned about food poisoning, so didn't finish it all.
And it only cost Rs 10 - about 12p back in the UK!

I figured it would help to give you an idea of some of uniquely Indian things we've discovered in Laxman Jhula so far...

Cows
One of the first things I remembered hearing about India is that the cow is a sacred animal. But I'd forgotten all about that until I got here.
Cows are everywhere. They're allowed to wander wherever they like – including into shops. Because they're holy animals, they're not eaten – only their milk is used.

Cow in Laxman Jhula

In Laxman Jhula, there are at least 47 cows that I've counted (I think – they're hard to count!) and this is a small village!
We're told that all the cows are owned by various villagers, but that there's not enough food for them, so they're let loose to forage.
It's always funny when you hear a jeep tearing along a road in the village, honking madly at a cow to move, and the cow just sits down in the middle of the road!
Then the driver has to get out and persuade the cow to move…
It's also quite funny when you meet a cow on the bridge, blocking it...


Cow on the bridge

Monkeys
I never realized that there are monkeys in India (actually, there are leopards, tigers, and elephants too). There are two sorts in our area – little brown-faced ones, and much larger blank-faced ones.
At first they seem very cute.


A, ahem, "cute" monkey...

But they hang around at one end of the bridge, watching for people carrying nuts or fruit, and then they come running towards you – which, if you're carrying a big bag of bananas like I was, is quite frightening! Especially when it's a big male monkey and he's hissing at you.
My (brave!) answer is to… run! Run like the wind, pushing men, women, and small children between me and the monkey so I can get to the other side of the bridge.. it has seemed to work so far, although it's not the best way to make friends with the people on the bridge…!

Daniel on the bridge, being eyed up by a monkey

Horns
I'd never heard so many car, truck, and motorcycle horns until coming to India. They're blaring all the time. We found out recently that the law in India is that if you hit a person or another moving vehicle, and you weren't blowing your horn at the time of impact, then you're responsible for any damage.
So, like any sensible peoples, the Indian response is to… sound the horn all the time! Or at least, it sounds like "all the time". In fact, the horn is so important, that every truck, taxi, and rickshaw has to have a "horn please" sign on the back, and every corner on the winding narrow roads in the hills has some sort of "sound your horn" sign.

Pollution
It's been very hard to get used to the amount of vehicle pollution – it's quite hard on the lungs. But besides this, everything in the villages is just filthy, at least by the pristine, "cleanliness is next to godliness" standards of the West. The roads are covered in litter, dog shit and cow pats (mostly still fresh!), Indian men will repeatedly spit onto the ground in front of them, and there are plastic bottles everywhere.
In fact, plastic waste is a major issue in India, as they don't have the infrastructure to recycle it, and yet the growing numbers of western tourists demand bottled water, so it is for sale everywhere.
In most villages we've been through, the verges of the roads are built from mounds of dirt, cow pats, and flattened plastic bottles. It's quite a worrisome sight.

Friendliness
We can't get over how everyone is so friendly. Admittedly, a lot of people just want to sell you something, but you get the feeling that everyone is sincere, and would help you out if you needed it. There's a special sort of energy that is created when a community is like this, that we just don' get back home.

Initial impressions
I have to admit, Laxman Jhula is not what I'd imagined.
In my imagination, we would be staying in a village with a total population of about 30 people – and it would be peaceful, serene, and tranquil.
Laxman Jhula is anything but – and yet, it is a lot quieter than Rishikesh and Ram Jhula.
During the day there is the constant sound of horns and people shouting, selling their wares, and in the morning and evening the monks at all the temples start chanting and ringing bells – which would be pleasant if there was only one, but when ten are doing it, it creates a mish-mash of sounds that is pretty grating on the ears!
Don't get me wrong – in no way am I complaining. I'm just saying that back in England, when I read that the area around Rishikesh was very spiritual and was good for yoga and meditation, I had a Western view of what that mean – in England (or NZ, USA for that matter), when you think of going somewhere to do some meditation, or yoga, or just some contemplation, you imagine something that is the antithesis of where you currently are – and most likely, where you currently are is busy and noisy.
So I have to come to grips with the fact that a spiritual place, India style, is not what I'd pictured.
At least from what I've seen so far.

Karin: We had a much better sleep last night - The Israelis were still as noisy as ever but we were far enough away from them for it not to disturb us too much.

This morning I had my first swim in the Ganges. It was really wonderful. The water is pretty cold as it is basically glacial melt from the high peaks. Fortunately I have been well primed for swimming in waters of this temperature through my antic with the  Serpentine swimming club in London and even glacial snow-melt isn’t  as bracing as the Serps in January! As you walk into the water the sand is kind of spongy and descends quite quickly into the turquoise water. The forested peaks soar up all around you. This really has to be the cream of outdoor swimming!

We’ve met the other couple, Claire and Martin, who are sharing the balcony with us. They are from Brighton and live in the 7 dials area where I used to live back in 1998 with Anthony. Martin had decided to rent a motorbike today and head off into the mountains so I plucked up the courage to do the same. It has been about 10 years since I last rode my Yamaha 535 in Japan so it was with trepidation that I clambered back into the saddle.

Karin on the motorbike

Dan: We figured that if we could hire a motorcycle and cruise up into the Himalayas, then maybe we could save some money, and do the trekking by ourselves - after all, how hard could it be? So Karin rang Triveni and said that I had an upset stomach, so could we delay the trekking for a few days (I was nominated to be the sick one as she made the call!). W figured we'd have a look around on the bike, and then make a call about the trekking when we got back.

Karin: To get to the main road and petrol station you have to cross the famous pedestrian footbridge that spans the river. This is always packed with throngs of Indian tourists and sadhus admiring the view and crossing from temple to temple. Negotiating this on the knackered old 125 that I had rented was quite a challenge! After several rather uncomfortable moments I did finally find my way over and after 30 mins of practice Dan hopped on the back and we headed for the hills. It was glorious to get away from the thronging hoards and climb up and up in to the foothills of the Himalayas. The views were breathtaking as the river curled languidly through the peaks, sometimes tumbling down rapids and skimming along the shallows. Even these Himalayan foothills are pretty impressive mountains by our standards. They are densely forested at this level with Tarzan-style liana’s dangling down onto the road, very much like those that you will find in the rain forests of the West Indies.

We passed a lot of monkeys, some leaner with pink faces and bright pink bottoms and others much chunkier with severe-looking black faces. They are always on the look out for a free meal so you have to guard any food items very carefully. There are also some beautiful and unusual birds. One particularly striking specimen which we saw swooping around the rocks by the river, has jet-black wings and a bright red body. Alongside the river there are a number of tented encampments where people on river rafting excursions stop to take a break. We made our way up and up to the nearest village which although only 10 km as the crow flies took us a good hour to reach. We soon realized that in this mountainous country travelling any distance is extremely hard work. As the Indian dusk began to close in, we decided to meander our way back down to the hotel.

On the way, we bumped into Martin and Claire who were heading back. Martin mentioned that the roads got very bad just after the next town.

Karin, Martin, and Claire on their motorbikes 

This morning, whilst swimming, I had seen an ashram on the other side of the river that seemed worthy of exploration, so we decided to take a detour and investigate. We headed down the steep driveway to see what we could see. After descending a flight of steps to a beach, we saw several monks praying and bathing, so, tentatively, we approached them. They ignored us completely. Feeling very much like intruders, we approached another slightly less scantily clad monk who did say a few words to us but who clearly spoke no English and did not seem enamoured to see us! We agreed to admit defeat and return to the bike as night was rapidly closing in. As we made our way back up the stairway we saw a man with a long beard standing above us. Thinking it was worth another go, we called up to him. He answered dryly that he couldn’t speak any English and then his face cracked up in a big smile. As it turned out we were talking to an Indian ‘Saint’ or Swami. When we mentioned that we might be looking for some advice about meditation, he beckoned us into a small veranda. Our saint was accompanied by another monk who seemed to understand English very well, but who, throughout our audience, didn’t look at us or talk to us at all. His attention was concentrated fixedly on the Swami. The Swami asked us a few questions about our interest in meditation as we were served Indian chai and ‘holy’ ganga water. It soon became clear that we were completely out of our depth and that this very special place was not exactly open to western part-time nirvana seekers! None the less, we were given some valuable guidance about how to proceed in the Hindu spiritual tradition and told that we were always welcome there.

Dan: Need Sleep. Now!

We discovered we were given the party floor.

There is a bunch of about 14 Israelis staying at the hotel, all about 19 years old, who are here to party.

And party they did!

We must have had about 3 hours sleep between us.

Needless to say, we’re feeling a bit scratchy.

We got up at 10:00am, and went downstairs to speak to the (very friendly) manager and see if we could get a quieter room. When we mentioned we were thinking of staying a month, he took us up the stairs to the top of the hotel, and the most amazing roof terrace, which had panoramic views over the village, the river, and the hills. And there were rooms up here – big rooms, but only two of them – and one of them had become free!

The manager told us that the Israelis come every year to party, and they always want these top rooms as they’re perfect for partying – however he said that that’s not what he wants his hotel to be about, so he only ever gives the young ones the rooms on the bottom floor (where we were).

He asked if we wanted the room and without hesitation, we said yes. So we went and moved our stuff.

Karin outside our room

Two views inside our room - I wonder if Daniel actually exists, all these photos are of Karin!!

When we’d moved in, we came back out on the balcony, and saw that there was another couple there – who happened to be from Brighton (in the south of the UK – one of the places we were considering moving to when we got back) – their names were Martin and Claire, and they were our neighbours.

Both of them were just emerging from four days of the dreaded Delhi Belly, and were eating their first food in that time – honey and toast!

Martin and Claire were absolutely lovely, and both Karin and I perked up after our not-so-good first night, thinking that 30 days in this room with good company would be ideal!

Karin: The first night at hotel Divya was a complete ordeal as we realized, a little too late, that we had taken a room next to a bunch of noisy Israeli teenagers. Not even Daniel’s top-of-the-range kiwi earplugs could reduce the sounds of the hard partying that went on til 4 am. We both decided that we needed to make a move as soon as possible. We were persuaded otherwise when the hotel owner, in a bid to keep our custom, offered us the best room in the hotel – a much larger space right on the roof of the hotel with  a huge terrace with spectacular views overlooking the Ganges.  

Daniel: We woke up at 9am, after a delicious 13 hours sleep – best sleep I’ve had in months!

Feeling very refreshed.

We were halfway through our showers, when the phone rang at 9:30am, and we were informed that our taxi had arrived – doh! It’s a 7 hour journey from Rishikesh to Delhi, and our driver had left at 2am!!!

We told him we had to have breakfast, and then hurriedly finished our packing and had breakfast.

When we got outside, I was intrigued by the car sent to pick us up. The web site for the taxi company indicated that all the cars were less than 4 years old, but this car looked like a morris minor!

The car was an Ambassador, and we found out later (from Karin’s father) that they were all based upon the design of a car that the Indians had seen in the 1950s when the English were still a presence in India – and they hadn’t changed the design since! Well, if it works and is easy to build and maintain, then why bother I guess..

Still, the car was pretty new, although basic – our driver (Anil) was very sweet, but didn’t speak much English.

An indian Abassador car - made by Hindustan Motors

And off we set for our 7 hour journey to Rishikesh and then Laxman Jhula.

I was intrigued to find out why a journey of 230kms should take 7 hours… but as we finally left Delhi (which took 2 hours!) I began to realise why.. this is a country of no motorways.. and in a few places, the road disappears and you’re driving on a dirt track – and these are major roads!

What struck me on the journey was the driving – it was worse than I’d seen in Italy.. at first I thought it was just chaos, but then I realised that there was a basic system: just don’t hit anyone, and you can do what you like – as long as you honk your horn! After the first hour, my ears were smarting from the constant honking and general noise.

I always figured that once we left Delhi we’d be in countryside, with just a few villages on the way.

Boy was I wrong! I had forgotten how heavily populated India is.. there were always people everywhere.

Most of the villages we passed through seemed to be a collection of shops and houses made out of wood and corrugated iron – very temporary-looking structures.

And the trucks were amazing – all painted up into a riot of colours, with mirrors and beads and ornamentation hanging from them. And the loudest horns I’ve heard!

And they all, without exception, had “horn please” painted on the back!

Horn Please - Indian Truck

We stopped after 3 hours at the equivalent of a UK Motorway Services (we don’t have them in NZ, but basically a service station and restaurant beside a motorway).

These services were run by Nestle, and as such, everything being sold was made by them and branded by them (it was a bit of branding overload – Nestle signs were everywhere).

They didn’t really sell Indian food – only Chinese and Italian (guess it’s where the Indians come to get a taste of culture!) and we were the only westerners there.

Karin gets a bit of attention from the locals I think on account of her blonde hair – or maybe it’s because she’s prettier than me!

After a filling chop suey, we jumped back into the taxi, where we slept for most of the way.

We arrived into Rishikesh at about 5pm, just as it was starting to get dark.

My first impressions of Rishikesh weren’t that promising – it was another long dirt street filled with temporary buildings, and there was noise, people, and traffic everywhere. The noise was deafening.

We stopped at the offices of Triveni Travel, the people that we organised our taxi through, and met Harsh, the owner’s son.

Karin had warned me that because we’d been staying at a posh hotel, most people would make the assumption that we had money to spend and wanted to stay only in nice places – Karin was concerned that this was against the principle in which we’d organised the trip i.e. to keep it as cheap as possible.

With this in mind, we could understand why Harsh suggested that the hotel we had booked (Hotel Divya) would not be suitable, and that we would feel more comfortable at another, more pricey hotel. Harsh also suggested looking at renting one of the western-style apartments that could be had, on the banks of the Ganges (which is known as the Ganga up here).

However, we opted to stay at he Divya for at least tonight.

Anil drove us the extra 9 kms to get to Laxman Jhula.

Laxman Jhula is a little settlement just upriver from Rishikesh. Laxman Jhula is actually the name of the suspension bridge across the Ganga used to reach the village.

Laxman Jhula

There is another village between Laxman Jhula and Rishikesh, and another suspension bridge, known as Ram Jula.

Karin: We had another smooth flight from Amman to Delhi. Today we are feeling very disoriented as we left Amman at 8.00pm local time and after a 5 hour flight we arrived in Delhi at 5.00am!. It was quite amazing flying over Delhi at that time in the early morning. The dawn was just breaking and the whole city was twinkling with the fairy-light adornments of Divali - the festival of lights. India is the 2^nd most populated country on earth and Delhi, its capital city, is huge and swarming with people. It’s a wonderful sight from above even when everyone is asleep. I have been dreaming of coming to India for a long time now so it was very special to be arriving here for the first time. I felt much anticipation to see how much my half-formed ideas about India were going to match with reality. As it happens, my first impressions of this place have exceeded all expectations. It is every bit as different and challenging as every one will tell you. It was as we stepped out of the arrivals terminal into the balmy air of the taxi rank that India really hit us. We had been thoroughly warned just how overwhelming this can be for first-timers. As new comers to India we are instantly identifiable as “green-shanks” and are pounced upon by every possible man-with-a-scam – we feel like very easy prey! Luckily we were armed with our LonelyPlanet guide and we knew to buy our pre-paid taxi-voucher from the one official transport police source. The tell-tale sign was that this was the only pre-paid taxi voucher cabin where the vendor wasn’t yelling at you to buy from them. Grateful thanks again to those helpful people at LonelyPlanet!

Taxi drivers in Delhi are the worst predators of all and are not to be trusted until you know how to play the game. Happily, in spite of nerves and jet-lag, we managed to find our way to the Claridges Hotel without getting ripped off which felt quite a success at the time. Dan and I plummed for a posh hotel for our first night in Delhi as we wanted to give ourselves a little time to acclimatize before taking on the best/worst that India could throw at us. It was definitely a good move, as having had very little sleep on the flight from Jordan, we were both suffering from sleep deprivation and a good dose of jet lag. The hotel is nice but not quite up to western levels of service and cleanliness - but this is obviously not why we are here in India. We braved our first meal – a mixture of fruit, cheeses, cereals, full English and a selection of extremely hot curries. It’s advisable for all visitors to India to avoid any food that may contain or have been washed in untreated or unboiled water. This means that most salads are out. Also it is best to avoid any un-peeled fruit or vegetables so what with our wheat and yeast allergies we are somewhat limited in our digestive range!  It is a good idea to drink plenty of the local yoghurt as this introduces you gradually to the local bugs, so Dan and I ladled the stuff over everything. There were a few discreet rumblings down below but nothing sinister. The next seemingly insurmountable challenge was to stay awake. We arrived at the hotel at 6.55 am or so and by 8.00 am we were completely done for.

Dan: Our room wasn’t ready till 9:30am, so we spent them time lazing around on chairs in the large grassy area that was in front of the hotel.

This whole things just feels very Raj and Colonial – hard to explain it, but from the turbaned doorman who saluted us every time we went through the door, to the number of people they have to do the simplest thing, it’s incredibly obvious that we’re in a different country!

The room was lovely – very large, with a super king bed, big bathroom, and a view onto the pool complex.

We really wanted to take advantage of all this, as it’ll be the last bit of luxury for a while (well, at least until Japan!), but jet-lag and tiredness were taking their toll, so we decided to venture into the city in an effort to stay awake, and begin to explore what Delhi had to offer.
Before we set off into Delhi, we had to work out how we were going to get to Rishikesh.

A friend of Karin’s had suggested that we go to a place called Laxman Jhula, which was a village a bit further upstream from Rishikesh, and was apparently much quieter.

In my mind, I pictured a quiet village of maybe 100 people, with hardly any westerners, and just a lot of peace, quiet, and tranquillity… Just the ticket I needed!

During my online-research (spot the computer geek!) I’d stumbled across the website for an American lady who was a guru at Laxman Jhula, and held classes there from Dec – Feb.

As one of the main tenets of this guru was eschewing commercialism, the website had a good list of very economical travel and accommodation options.

Although at first glance a train seemed to be cheaper, we realised that once you added the costs of getting to/from the station, it was only £2 more to get a taxi all the way to Laxman Jhula.

We rang the recommended travel place, and booked a taxi for 11:00 am the next day, and rang one of the hotels at random, and found they had a room for the night – we figured we’d stay there one night, and see about other accommodation when we got there.

The owner of the travel place (Ram Bhuta) was incredibly friendly on the phone (especially after he learned which hotel we were staying at!) and said that it was possible to rent apartments at Laxman Jhula – he suggested coming into the office when we got there to look at our options.

Warned by our guidebook that we should avoid all un-treated water, and any skinned fruit/veges that may have been washed (as well as ice), I’m a bit apprehensive about what I’ll be able to eat… part of it is that I’m not sure if once you’ve had Delhi Belly whether you’re immune from it again… maybe it’s best to just get it as early as possible.

My other big worry is malaria – I’m terrified of being bitten by mosquitoes! Karin seems much more complacent about the whole thing than I am. I have the appropriate malarial prophylactics (as they’re known i.e. anti-malaria medication) but I’ve heard such bad things about the side effects that I’ve elected not to take them unless I actually contract malaria (when they can apparently be used as emergency medication).

Anyway, before we go out into Delhi I cover myself in mosquito repellent.

We ask the hotel concierge for a taxi to take us to Connaught Place, the massive series of circular streets that the un-official centre of New Delhi.

The taxi pulls up, and we ask the driver how much it will cost to get to Connaught Place – the driver shrugs and indicates we should get in – however our guide book has warned us about doing this, so we appeal to the concierge – who shouts at the driver for ages, and then the driver sullenly moves a little towel on the dashboards, that I had assumed was for cleaning the windscreen. Instead, the towel covered the taxi’s meter!

We’re learning one of our first lessons: also establish the price before getting into any form of transport.

The other big lesson I’ve been learning is about tipping – my guidebook indicated that at a hotel you should tip 10-20 rupees to a porter for any given action (e.g. carrying your bags to your room). However, when I tried this at the hotel and gave him 10 rupees, he just stared at me. Ooookeee. Well, next guy, I tried 20 rupees. Again, just a stare. Then it clicked: I’m staying at an up-market hotel, therefore they probably expect up-market tips! So, the next two guys (who brought us some lovely floral garlands to celebrate Diwali) both got 100 rupees (about £1.20). Result! Big smiles and big “thanks you”s. Hmm, at this rate I’ll be out of money within a week! It’s hard to work out what the rupee is worth here, as it seems to be so variable. Still, I’m sure it will become clear over time.

The taxi took us to Connaught Place – the driver seemed to want to give us a tour, but we indicated he should just pull over and drop us off – he pulled into a car park area to let us out. We paid him and gave him a 20 rupee tip – he then started arguing with us, saying we had to pay for his parking in this car park, as he’d be waiting for us. We explained that we didn’t want him to wait, and he said it was too late, and that we’d have to pay for his parking. In the end, we just walked away, and let him shout at us. As soon as we had gotten out of the taxi, a group of young men had run up to us, either trying to sell us things, or give us directions.

As a westerner, it’s very hard to not be cynical about strangers – I’m always convinced that anyone we meet always wants money from us, so it’s best to treat everything with suspicion. Still, this one guy that followed us seemed to genuinely want to help us – he asked where we wanted to go, and we said we wanted somewhere to buy food. He flagged down an auto-rickshaw (basically a TukTuk – three wheel contraption with a noisy and smoky two-stroke motor) and we got in – we asked to guy to take us to the government Co-Op where we could buy food.

Well, I can tell you now that auto-rickshaw’s are a whole new experience! Imagine a roller-coaster ride, without the safety bars!

One of the Rickshaws in Delhi

Ripping through the incredibly chaotic traffic, narrowly avoiding collisions all the time, the driver dropped us outside a building. He said that the cost was 20 rupees, but that as it was a quiet day, he’d be our driver all day for 40 rupees. This seemed like a good deal.

Us in the Rickshaw

Karin: We emerged at 6.00 this morning to search for a taxi to take us the 250 km ride to Petra and back again in time for our flight out to Delhi at 20.30. After some efficient assistance by our kindly hotel receptionist (ED: Who I think was quite affected by Karin’s blonde hair and obvious femaleness!) we were soon scooting through Jordan’s Martian-like landscape. It was quite a shock to be in this desiccated land when only 24 hours before we had been cruising through England’s green fields on our way down to London from Leeds. A UN jeep which sped past reminded us that we were not so far away from some pretty war-torn places. We remembered the adverts for armored cars that we had seen at the airport the previous night, which advertised that they were "ideal for traveling through Iraq". In spite of our initial reservations (mainly cause he insisted we got into the car and started traveling before agreeing a price!) our taxi driver, Khalid, turned out to be a real gem. He got us safely to Petra and set up a rendezvous with us 4 hours later to make sure that we were back in time for our flight. After all the hard months of life-reorganization up in Leeds, both Daniel and I had begun to turn grey both inside and out. In one day the grey has been banished by the awesome sights and bewitching beauty of Petra. Several years ago when I lived in Manchester, a friend recommended that I go. It has been in the back of my mind since then and today, almost by accident, we were there and it was every bit as wonderful as I had imagined. When the city was abandoned by the Nabateans some time in the run up to the 14th Century, it was lost from western view until a Swiss traveler, Johann Ludwig Burckardt rediscovered it in 1812. To reach the city you have to walk 40 minutes through a narrow gorge (the Al Sik) which is 1200m long and has walls up to 80m high. The rocks here are an orangey pink shade and when lit up by the sunshine it is a truly spectacular sight and then, as if by magic, through a gap in the soaring 80 metre-high gorge you catch a glimpse of the towering structure of the Al-Khazneh (Treasury).

View of the Treasury from Al Sik

This is the most beautiful monument at Petra. It was carved in the 1st Century BC as a tomb for an important Nabatean King. It is enormous, and seeing it for the first time is one of those moments in life that you will never forget. 2 hours just isn’t enough to explore Petra properly. It takes about 3 days to do the visit properly as the site is so huge. Petra’s second most famous monument is the Monastery, which can be reached by climbing a flight of 800 steps cut into the mountain of Ad-deir.

The Monastery at Petra

Dan and I had to race up these steps (and down again) as in trying to visit this distant part of the site we were in grave danger of missing our rendezvous with Khalid. After a full-on endurance run of about an hour we did finally make it back in time and slept like 2 exhausted babes all the way back to the hotel. After a somewhat shambolic transit check-in back at Queen Alia airport we are now airborne again and on the 6 hour flight to Delhi.

Additional Petra Photos:

Dan: The day has arrived – the start of our 3 month holiday!

We leave London bound for Jordan, where we have an overnight stay in Amman before our connecting flight to Delhi tomorrow night.

The flight from London to Jordan is 6 hours, and we’re a bit apprehensive about it after reading bad reviews about the airline, Royal Jordanian Airlines, online.

Karin: Thankfully the flight was not the horror that we had feared. We picked it from the bargain basement of flights – a £350 deal with Royal Jordanian including a 24-hour transfer in Jordan. Despite some bad reviews on TripAdvisor.com the service was pretty good and even the tiny new-born who screamed much of the way through the flight had little effect on our spirits. Whilst on the plane Daniel and I began plotting our whistle-stop tour to Petra – we weren’t sure if we could do it.

Dan: Karin mentioned that Petra was one of the must-see things in the Middle East, and we endeavored that if we find a way to go visit it, we would. Petra is an ancient city carved into the stone walls of a valley, and was hidden from Western view until the 1800’s. According to everything we’d read, we needed at least 3 days to see Petra properly, and that was assuming we were in Petra to start with! Getting to Petra and back again in a single day was going to be our biggest problem. Buses (the cheapest option) were out of the question, as there were only 3 a week, and none on Tuesdays (the one day we had in Jordan).

Taxi looked like the only option, providing we could agree on a reasonable rate.

We arrived at Queen Alia airport in Amman, Jordan at 11:30pm.

The first idea that we were in the Middle East (and very close to Israel and Iraq) was the array of advertisements for armored cars and limousines which apparently were “perfect for traveling in Iraq” according to the poster. Hmmm….!

The transfer desk told us that there was a bus outside to take us to the hotel – we said how would we recognize it, and he said, “Easy – it’s the only bus out there”.

We went outside… and discovered there were 4 buses! And none of them were the transfer bus. Hmm, welcome to Jordan…

Still, eventually it arrived, and we were in our room and asleep by 1:00am, ready to be up at 5:00am to track down a taxi to take us to Petra…