Mumbai-Agra

Gateway to India
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India - our first hot blast of it off the plane in Mumbai is dripping with sweat and humidity. It smells and its about to rain. I love it! Mumbai, or Bombay as a lot of the locals still call it, is a crazy place. The buildings are all rotting from the moisture in the air. Our taxi ride to our hotel was mental - women in saris riding side-saddle on the back of motorbikes, families of four on a bike, babies asleep wedged in between their parents, hooting as a matter of course every five seconds. We braved our first Thali (an Indian lunch of chapatis, lentils and chutneys) in a restaurant on the main tourist drag. Delish. We saw the sites - Chowpatty beach, the Gateway to India, had a beer at Leopolds (of Shantaram fame). We both agreed that you get hassled less here than in, say, Egypt or Morocco. They pester you to buy trinkets or for money but when you say no they generally scarper. Refreshing.

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The next day we flew off to Udaipur on a propellor plane. When we landed we were the only plane in the whole airport! Our youth hostel was amazing. Right on Lake Pichola with a view from our window (for 2 pounds fifty a night!). The sun was setting over the lake as we arrived - so gorgeous. We'd met a Spanish girl at the airport so we went for supper with her. The next day we toured around. Udaipur is beautiful - white washed buildings higgledy piggledy amassed on top of each other circling the lake. Most of them are hotels with roof top restaurants with views of the lake. We went to see the palace and then went on a boat ride. That evening we did yoga with a funny little fella - Ed's first attempt.

They told him he'd have bad karma if he didn't pay more - to which he responded "you can't put a price on karma!"

Chowpatty beach
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The following day was my best in India so far (I think). Woke up early, and left Ed snoring to go to another hotel where I started the day with a private yoga session over looking the whole of Udaipur. My yogi didn't speak any English and it was meant to be a class but no one else pitched! Was AMAZING. Then we went off to do a cooking class. Our teacher was a funny little mustachioed guy called Vijay Singh (like the golfer). He took us on the back of his motorbike to his home where we learnt how to cook paneer butter masala, chapatis, masala chai to name but a few while his nine month old daughter played with our camera case and Lonely Planet. The food was delicious - I'll wow you all with my new skills when you visit me in Sydney! After that, feeling fat and hot we splashed out (literally and figuratively) and paid to spend the afternoon at the poolside of a plush hotel. At around 5 we took a rickshaw up the mountain to the Monsoon palace and watched the sunset over the city with a cup of chai in our hands. Best day...

Gandhi's Bombay bolthole
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Followed swiftly by my worst experience. Drum roll please... an eight hour nightbus to Pushkar SLEEPER with NO LOO! I was actually quite excited about it. As Ed said, it was to be an experience. But what we didn't realise was that we had booked a berth right at the back of the bus so we felt every bump along the way. And I don't mean a little blimp, I mean teeth crunching, head on ceiling banging belters for eight hours. Then at about 2am, groggy on sleeping pills the bus stopped and I ventured out for a wizz. No loo, of course, so I snuck behind a tractor and stepped in a giant mound of cow turd (I hope it was cow's!) It seeped all over my feet... I won't go on. But needless to say when I couldn't find my wet wipes and disinfectant gel immediately on my return, I had a little weep.

Our plane to Rajasthan
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Anyway, we made it to Pushkar eventually, despite there being a national strike so we had to get a taxi half the way. I was a bit disappointed with Pushkar at first - it was filthy, full of tourists, full of cow shit. Everyone had said how lovely it was, but I guess nowhere is going to seem lovely after a bumpy bus ride, smelling like a farm and no sleep. We found a great hotel with lake views and promptly passed out. Only to be woken about ten minutes later as the hordes arrived at the lake (or ghat) to start washing and praying and singing and playing drums and what not. Arrrggh. That afternoon after finally getting some rest we went to visit the Brahma temple - which was lovely. We had a little guide who showed us where to throw flowers (for happiness) and sugar (for sweet life) and then led us to the ghats and found us each Sadhos (or whatever they're called) who prayed for us, and our families. All lovely until they led us to the 'donation table' and when I offered R100 they seemed shocked. I was meant to pay R200 for myself and for each member of my family... Ed hated that. They told him he'd have bad karma if he didn't pay more - to which he quite rightly responded "you can't put a price on karma!" So that was a bit of a downer, but Pushkar redeemed itself in my eyes when we went up another hill outside the town to Savitri temple and watched the sunset over the city. We then had a great meal with beer served clandestinely in a teapot (not supposed to drink here - Pushkar is a holy town).

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The next day, I found another fab yoga class. He then checked out my chakras and discovered that I had a blockage in my stomach, so I went back later and he massaged my tummy with oil and moved me around, and then gave me a mudpack for my stomach and eyes. At the end, he tied string around my big toes andmade me eat an apple sitting up holding my legs. Weird. But a funny experience. We caught a local bus to Ajmer and from there our first train experience to Jaipur. We went cattle class, to the amusement of the locals. Surely we wanted to be in first class, kind sir? Madam? No, we'll sit here on the hard wooden seat for three hours (yes, numb bum big time!) and chat with you and share your pumpkin seeds and I'll give you a squirt of my disinfectant gel for fun instead. Jaipur was a mess of a city. Smelly, sweaty, similar to Mumbai. That evening, after checking into a hotel (finally, most were full which we didn't expect in Monsoon season) we met up with a friend of a friend of Ed's. We had thought they'd be parents age but to our surprise they were our age - a British couple living in Jaipur and running a travel company. They were great fun and it was good to meet some locals.

Sunset in Udaipur
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The next day, after a minor glitch of Natwest blocking both our sets of credit cards and having to get them to unblock them, we finally set out to see the city. The whole of the old town is painted red, and with the tourist tat inbetween adding colour, and the minarettes and palaces with tiny windows peeping everywhere, it looks like a fairy town... if it weren't for the hooting rickshaws, the men peeing on every corner and the begging kiddies. Once again we found solace in escaping the city, by heading up to the Amber fort on the outskirts of town for more peering through arched windows and gawping at views. That evening we headed back into town to watch our first Bollywood film at the famous Raj Mandir cinema. What a blast. The cinema is proper old school - like a theatre. It is like a mixture between 1960's glam and art decor kitsch. I loved it. THe entrance hall has chandeliers and a sweeping stairwell leading guests to Ruby seats (right at the front), Emerald (middle - where we sat) or diamond, up in the box. The movie itself was called Singh is Kinng and had come highly recommended by all the locals we'd met that day. It was a hilarious cacophone of slapstick, high drama, music, dance and romance. The Indians all roared with laughter, clapped, sang along. Even though we couldn't understand it, we could work it out. I loved the soundtrack - I'm hoping to buy it. The women actresses were all jaw droppingly gorgeous too. On our way back to the hotel our bicycle rickshaw driver let us try riding it ourselves which was hilarious. And then we headed out to a very glamorous hotel to meet Bertie and Vicky again. A friend of theirs had just created a pool out of a fountain at the hotel and this was the private pool wetting. We'd gone from sipping a chai in a market, surrounded by merchants, and beggars and crap - to sipping chilled beers next to a fountain, in a garden and being offered delicacies on silver trays. That's India for you!

Breakfast overlooking Lake Pichola
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This morning we caught a train at 5am for Agra and this is where we are now. We are due to head to see the Taj by sunset from the back view and tomorrow morning we're doing another dawny and will go inside the Taj - apparently early mornings are best as its quieter (and cooler).

The Taj lived up to its reputation. It is breathtaking in its oppulance - all white marble, inlaid with flowery patterns made out of semi-precious stones. We saw it from behind at first, from a park across the river. Then, that night we decided to treat ourselves and splashed out on cocktails that cost more than our accommodation (but still only a fiver!) at Agra's finest, and possibly India's finest five star hotel, the Oberoi. It was bliss. I could almost forget that I was wearing the same masala-stained t-shirt that I'd been wearing for three days on the trot, and was instead a well-heeled guest. We haven't been drinking much in India - a welcome relief from London - so I got pretty sozzled on my lone cocktail. I got the giggles badly.

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The next morning we were up at dawn for more Taj-gaping. It really is spectacular close up. After running out of both film on Ed's camera and battery on the digital, we called it a day and headed back to our hotel for breakfast. And then headed to the train station to start our mammoth journey south to Kerala. The trains are amazing so we're really excited. 48 hours will be interesting. I'm hoping it won't be too rainy. We've been really lucky - except for a couple of showers in Mumbai it has been totally dry the rest of the week, often pretty sunny but mostly quite muggy - boiling hot. Divine! Haven't had to wear a jumper once!