Ladies who Lunch (breakfast)...

Rekha and her husband collect me from my hotel just before 9am in their chauffeur driven car - it's a taste of luxury in comparison to what I've been experiencing over the last few days. Rekha is originally from India and her husband is German - they have recently relocated back here after a long stint in Europe. Rekha and I know each other from working at MasterCard together and it's lovely to see her and tell her all about my travels in Incredible India so far.

I'm beyond excited when we go to Starbucks (the first to open here) and I have Chai tea and pastries for breakfast. We're quickly joined by Rekha's friend and after some coffee she's very kindly commanded her driver to give me a mini tour of Mumbai where I get to see The Gateway to India, Chowpatty Beach, Marine Drive and The Taj hotel which was also at the centre of the terror attacks.

Dropping me outside my hotel, I say my farewells and meet the group to head to the airport. I'm not sure how I feel about Mumbai - to me it feels like a city trying to claw it's way to being a modern first world destination but it's busting under the pressure. The stark contrast between the super wealthy and poor is most evident here with whole skyscrapers being constructed as one person's house overlooking slums.

Michael is now super sick and has apparently spent most of the night being ill. A doctor has had to be called for an injection to be administered. Seems we're slowly dropping like flies! I'm feeling better and a day off the medicine seems to have helped.

We eventually get to the airport to catch the Indigo air flight and after some bumpy turbulence touch down in the wet, humid and peaceful green terrain of Goa.

It's straight to the town after dinner and before I know it I'm in a club sipping Sex on the Beach cocktails and drinking Kingfisher beer at 2 for 70 Rupees. It's not long before we hit the dance floor and I meet some guys from Manchester who are trying to shake away their Russian conquests from the night before.

Yes - it's official. We have arrived in the party capital of India and I'm on the last official few days of the tour before I head down to Kochin and Kerala.

Bombay dreaming...

We wake up on the train and it seems the others (sharing one carriage) have had an interesting night. Erin was found sleeping with her tongue touching the seat (not recommended here) and everyone else was rudely awakened by a local guy stretching and farting his way to start the day. I have slept soundly, pretty much the whole way, cradling my passport & valuables.

As we pull into Mumbai we pass some of the infamous slums, where Slumdog Millionaire was set, and watch kids playing alongside the railway lines, people taking a wash in a bucket and others going to the toilet. The slums are said to export over $600M worth of goods yearly and many people who hold blue collar jobs still live there.

We head into a couple of retro looking taxis and arrive at the worst hotel of the trip so far, the optimistically named Royal Castle. The rooms stink of cigarette smoke and our bathroom is 20 degrees hotter than the bedroom due to the hot water boiler. Like most places we've stayed, there is no toilet paper - a simple hand held shower nozzle by the pan replaces the need and reduces the paper going into the city's already groaning sewage system.

The rooms aren't quite ready so we head for brunch (again at the optimistically named Cafe Ideal) where I go for a cheese & pineapple toastie.
Michael, Laura and I head to find a mall to buy some semi decent clothes as Ricky tells us we'll be going to a nice restaurant tonight. I find a Mango and buy myself a couple of dresses (the curry, naan and cheese toasties has most definitely taken their toll - I'm thinking forward to the bikini situation in Goa - eek!).

I head back to the hotel and crash for the afternoon as I'm still not 100%. A few of the others head out for a Slum & Laundry tour before we meet up for our evening out.

All glammed up we head out onto the streets of Bombay and to 'Leopold's'. Upon arrival I'm not sure the new dress was entirely necessary as it has more of a cafe feel. We're led upstairs to the air con part of the establishment which turns out being an Indian style Smokey Joes (minus the pole and decent (yes) toilets). Neon bar signs buzz on the walls, a DJ playing Brian Adams, Bonnie Tyler, Dire Straits and the Ghostbusters theme tune operates from the corner. I learn that this bar is where part of the eleven coordinated Mumbai terror attacks occurred.

The food is pretty bad and I'm not drinking so it's a tame night for me.

I head to bed Bombay dreaming and looking forward to a reunion with my friend Rekha tomorrow morning.

Temples, Panthers, Puppies & Puke

I wake up feeling hungover and sick. Not sure how much is alcohol related and how much is the flu/cold. Heading to breakfast Ricky tells us that a panther killed a wild boar next to the pool last night and we all glance at each other nervously - super glad we didn't set up camp to sleep there after all! Erin even more so than the rest of us!

One of the hotel's dogs has had puppies that are 10 days old. We're taken to where she has hidden them, in a den, safely away from reach of the panthers made from sticks that crack as you get close and they are buried into the side of a hill. We have cuddles with one of them - they are adorable!

I'm not the only one who is ill. Johannes and Claus are also not feeling good. Michael, Ricky and Laura seem to be OK now but think the pace and lack of basic food hygiene is taking it's toll on our bodies - certainly mine. We take the jeep to Ranakpur temple, driving past monkeys, over a bridge adorned with stone elephants and eventually arrive at the Jain place of worship, seemingly in the middle of nowhere with a subtle likeness to Angkor Wat. Jainism is a strain of Hinduism and some worshippers prefer to practice entirely naked. The temple is 600 years old and contains 144 uniquely carved pillars depicting various gods and deities. We are shown around by one of the priests who takes us to the highlights of the temple including the 'tree of life' which appears to have a form of the elephant god Ganesh within it. Upon leaving the temple I'm told to cast a wish - I hold my eyes tight and send my wish forwards to the shrine and upwards to the sky.

When we leave we come across a stray puppy and then realise there are a further three awkwardly frolicking in the dust - still gangly and a few weeks old. They try and nibble our trousers, play with Michael's camera strap and these ones look like they shouldn't be petted. They seem to be attracting more attention than the temple.

Johannes has been quickly going down hill and doesn't make it into the temple opting to sit in the shade instead. He's slowly turning 50 Shades of Green (and yes today the blog was nearly titled this). On our drive back we have to pull the jeep over and a scene worthy of the exorcist unfolds before us. Poor Johannes is super sick.

Returning back to Aranyawas we pack up, I order a packed lunch (a dubious looking cheese sandwich) and head to the jeep to pick up our train to Mumbai.

We wait at the platform in Falna for an hour and eventually a long blue train pulls sleepily into the station. We fight with our bags onto the correct carriage and Ricky points us to our beds. Mine is lying parallel to a window and consists of a basic blue plastic bench bed. There are six other beds in the compartment with no doors. Two women sit in the beds opposite and they stare unashamedly at me. After some initial luggage chaos I relax down making myself a pillow using my sealed dirty laundry bag and put on my fleece. When I take out my face wipes they look bemused and stare at me as if I am performing a strange western ritual. Eventually we are given a pillow and blanket. I'm still not feeling too good so I bed down for the 13.5hr journey ahead. I fall asleep quickly, gently being rocked to sleep by the soothing movement of the train.

The million dollar pen...

I've managed to pick up an ear infection (guessing from our pool antics) so I wake up and head straight to the chemist where I buy antibiotic drops over the counter for 50p. I also have a mouth ulcer, I'm starting to feel like I have a cold coming and the Imodium has sent me a little too far in the opposite direction! Staying healthy in India is proving a challenge!!! I am craving fruit, vegetables and anything non spicy! Apart from all of the above I'm still having an awesome time (and as Bron would say - at least I still have my ears, a mouth and digestive system).

Erin, Ricky, Geoff and Laura all get up at 7am this morning for an Ashtanga yoga class on the roof (I bow out graciously) and we meet for breakfast before loading up our jeep which will take us to Ranakpur.

Before we leave we try and stop at the Ray Ban shop however in the space of 10 minutes we have hit a car (the jeep had no scratch however the car was not so lucky). We are expecting to spend the next 30mins completing paperwork however just drive off with the other driver being slightly miffed. We then get caught in honking traffic while some people try and tame an angry bull - so it's a typical start to the day in India.

I know we are nearby so I try and find the 'Danny De Vito' lookalike I met yesterday selling textiles. I achieve this by showing other shop owners his photo and they all point me in the right direction. I find it amazing that despite Udaipur having a population of 400,000, everyone knows one another and the sense of community is ever strong.

We leave Udaipur and head out onto a rural track road. Our 2.5hr journey finds us in the middle of nowhere and a forest where we are staying at a place called Aranyawas. The resort is made up of a series of grey stone cottages that overlook a beautiful freshwater stream and green valley. It reminds me of a B&B in Howick, South Africa. I love it here and wish we were staying for longer than one night. The change of pace is wonderful.

Apparently there were two panthers and their cubs playing in the stream a few weeks back and I'm super jealous that I missed it. The panthers cause big problems for the owners here and they have killed two of their own pet dogs recently. I don't think George would last long! Sat on our balconies Laura, Michael and I scout the surrounds in the hope of seeing something and Laura manages to spot a mongoose whilst I only manage some chipmunks and a variety of beautiful birds. Sitting in the sun on the balcony overlooking the valley, with the water softly trickling in front is one of my highlights of the whole trip. It's hard to believe that I'm still in the same country as Delhi!

At 3pm Johannes, Laura, Ricky and I head out further into the forest on a horse safari. My horse is called Kulyani. At first she's rather feisty but after a while I am holding the reins tightly and keeping her under control (with the help of a guide). Ricky is totally at ease on horseback. He has told us many stories about when he used to run horseback tours near his home and he still actively plays polo (Prince Harry is due to play his team sometime soon).

We trot past rural homes, made of basic materials mostly sticks and mud. Goats are herded by small kids into the family small holdings with women cooking over wood fires in cauldrons. We pass buffalo, parrots in the trees and peacocks. The children and adults come running out to say hello and "bye bye" to us.

There is a small group of children, immaculately dressed in uniform, walking home from school and they are totally mesmerised by us. Ricky explains that they will very rarely see Western people so they must have followed us for miles! Eventually the boy in the group plucks up the courage to get my attention, point at his text book and make a sign for a pen. I say that I'm so sorry I don't have one and shake my head. He looks disappointed but he still follows us smiling and doesn't ask for money. Eventually we stop for a water break and I open my bag. Underneath the tissues, water bottle, money purse and camera I can see a MasterCard Priceless London pen lurking at the bottom. I ask Ricky if I can give it to him (taking into account what he'd said about encouraging begging and I'm so glad he said this is different as it's for school and education). I call the boy over and hand over the pen.
His reaction gives me a lump in my throat and I am, again, humbled that something I take for granted is so appreciated here. He stares at it, turning and twisting it in his fingers , admiring it, trying to read the writing and then excitedly opens his text book to check it's working. When the black ink scores into the paper I've never seen such a genuine look of wonder and gratitude on someone's face. It really was like I'd just given him a million dollars.

Ricky tells me that the boy will go into school and tell everyone that a foreign lady gave him the pen and no one will believe him. He said that his school friends will ask the guys who own the horses to confirm that he's telling the truth. I really wish I'd taken more pens.

We're out on the horses for 2.5hrs and watch the sun set. It's an 11km jeep ride back to our base where we chill out for a while and then head to dinner. This is an upmarket resort and they stock Indian red and white wine. Michael and I hit the red and are pleasantly surprised with the quality! After a buffet dinner we start another campfire listening to beautiful chill out music and chat animatedly together. The pet dogs come and sit with us and enjoy getting lots of fuss. We're eventually joined by an elderly Indian man who lives in Ilford and is here on holiday. With him he has his friend of 20years and an older plumper lady called Lolita. We offer them some rum and he asks lots of questions about our trip. He says he's so pleased to meet some English people willing and interested in learning about India and it's people. He tells us he hates wrongly being called a "Paki" back home and how badly educated most people are about Indian culture. Just as I'm saying what a lovely man he is, Lolita gets up and walks off. The elderly chap and his friend say their goodbyes and leave shortly after wishing us all well. Ricky explains that Lolita is in fact a prostitute and he'd asked for her to be locked in his room which raises some laughs and disbelief from the group!! He must have been at least 85...

After three bottles of red wine, shared with Michael & Erin, plus the obligatory rum / vodka I am definitely ready for my bed. Erin suggests we all sleep by the pool under the stars but I'm already pretty chilly (12 degrees at night here) so I say my good nights and head back to the cottage feeling a little worse for wear now on a number of levels...

No colour in your life...

It's a lazy start to today after last night's poolside escapades. I get out of bed at 11:30am with a killer Indian hangover. Erin and I grab a tuk tuk into town and stroll over one of the pretty Venetian-esque bridges to a restaurant overlooking the water called The Prince's Garden. We sit watching women bathe, scrubbing their clothes and children swimming. A fresh pineapple juice, fruit salad and the best pizza I've ever tasted fixes me up and I'm ready to enjoy the rest of the day.

We collect my dress (which needs some alterations) and head back to the art shop for henna. The owner of the art shop, a man of 40 who could easily star in a Pantene advert, has taken a shine to me. He tells me he's missed me and instead of getting someone else to do it - he tells me he'd like to paint me himself. Erin stays with me and watches as he takes my hand and starts. He tells me that I'll need to tell him when to stop as he could henna me all day. Erin asks him about how he came to own the shop and he tells us of his struggle to fulfil his vision of creating a place for artists to come and operate independently. Ricky has recommended him as he does not believe / participate in the commission system and his strong belief in karma drives him to treat everyone fairly and to create opportunity for those less fortunate. He tells us that he has left India only once to visit Switzerland. He is one of the few Indians we have met on our travels who has been able to afford to leave. Ricky dreams of going to Venice sometime and I hope this comes true for him.

When asked what he thought of Europe he doesn't say what I was expecting. How wealthy people are, that he is envious of our lifestyle, how clean and tidy everything is - he simply tells us that he feels sorry for us...as we have no colour in our lives. I give him a hug goodbye and head back to the hotel with my decorated left arm and hand, a little richer from meeting him.

In the evening five of us head out for a food safari (a term coined by Erin). We arrive at an area fringing the lake, covered with stalls selling street food and it's clear this is where all the locals come. We stalk from stall to stall sharing & devouring freshly cooked toasted sandwiches, moo moos, Indian burgers and plates of interesting flavours & spices all rounded off, of course, with some chai tea.

We head back to the hotel, stuffed, satisfied and ready for bed...

No medicine required...

Patience is a virtue...

My first whole day in Udaipur begins with breakfast joined by Erin & Ricky at Cafe Edelweiss - a cafe run by a German guy who we hear has three wives. Ricky tells us he doesn't understand how he can do this as he thinks keeping one wife happy will be hard enough (he is due to marry in February). I enjoy some toast and jam plus some delicious banana bread. A mouse scurries under one of the tables (I have got used to eating with my feet off the floor) and a broom is used to shoo it away.

Ricky points us in the direction of a boat trip across the lake. We are asked to put on life jackets, the first piece of Indian health & safety I have encountered, and we head out across the glassy water. It's absolutely beautiful...
We stop at one of the islands which is Jagmandir Palace, another beautiful white marble and stone structure, flanked by a row of marble elephants, and one of the most expensive places in India to get married. Ricky tells us it would cost upwards of £300k (which is a lot of rupees) and it's design inspired some of the Taj Mahal's architecture.

After a spot of shopping back on dry land, Erin and I find a silk shop and have a dress made for 500 rupees each - approx £6. Our measurements are taken (eating curry every day is def taking a negative toll - I may need to start licking the bottom of my flip flops). I continue my mission to find Mum her requested black & silver sofa throw. It seems every textile shop in Rajasthan has every colour and pattern but so my hunt continues...

My afternoon is spent back at the art shop where I take a miniature painting class. This type of art is a hallmark of the region and the skill is passed from father to son. My tutor is called Pinky who asks me what I want to create. He draws me the beautiful outline of an elephant (symbol of good luck) in 20 seconds and hands to me to copy. I spend the next 10 minutes doing my best to copy. Next comes the outline in orange, while I shake my paintbrush unsteadily around my pencil outline I begin to have a new found appreciation for the patience & talent these guys possess. They seem to go into an almost meditative state when they paint.

I am told that the paint's colour is made from local plants and the bright yellow is made from cows urine. Slowly but surely my elephant takes shape with me copying carefully and very slowly as we go. It takes me 2hrs to finish but I am beyond happy with the result. Seems like I had an excellent teacher.

The artists paint my finger nails with beautiful intricate designs, Erin pops in and also has hers done. The rest of the group arrive and we head up the steps of the art school for a cookery lesson on the roof. The view is stunning overlooking the palace and the colourful mismatched patchwork of rooftops.

We learn how to make samosas, potato & spinach paneer, chicken masala, raita, marinated rice and chai tea. After our two hour cooking fest, frantically scribbling notes to keep up, we sit down to enjoy our meal together with festival fireworks lighting up the palace in the background.

Giving Ricky 500 rupees each he heads out for some more 'medicine' which we transport back to the hotel pool. I teach everyone how to play 'Eat my Box' (thanks Bron it translates so well) where you have to pick up a box off the floor with your mouth not using hands and only feet on the floor. I quickly find myself in hysterics as a few nearly end up in the pool after losing their balance. Glasses are taken off and stretches start to take place as people get serious and wait their turn. As the box gets lower more people bow out leaving only the super competitive left (including Ricky who changes out of his jeans and into some loose shorts). The music is pumping, and drinks are flowing freely (in generous servings) and I am quickly drunk on my orange vodka and Mirinda (a fanta equivalent that leaves Laura and my tongues orange coloured!). Eventually Johannes & Ricky triumph, both able to pick up a tiny flat piece of the box from the floor.

The evening continues with Bollywood / Bhangra dancing, ceroc and a very drunk group! I am the first to voluntarily jump in the pool quickly followed by Geoff, Johannes, Michael and Claus. Erin eventually succumbs and joins us in the cold water. Ricky is dragged in and spends the rest of the night wrapped in a towel, resembling E.T, shivering.

A great group bonding night and wonderful day.

Nothing is impossible...

We say our sad goodbyes to Pushkar and board the train in general class heading to Udaipur. No fabric cushioned seats with breakfast service this time! Sitting among the locals, the ceiling of the carriage is covered with fans and there are no doors. The hard bench seats are covered in blue plastic and at every station stop, hawkers selling samosas, chai tea and snacks complete their transactions through the steel bars of the window. A child sweeps the floor on his hands & knees passing from car to car and I spend the next 4hrs people watching and writing.

We arrive into Udaipur and our base for the next three nights, Hotel Vishnupriya. The thought of not having to pack / unpack my backpack for three whole days makes me extremely happy as well as the hotel being relatively luxurious in comparison to the other accommodation so far. It's a good start for Udaipur!

After a quick chill out by the pool and an interesting (!) Ayervedic massage I meet up with the group and head out for a city orientation walk with Ricky. He is slowly but surely becoming one of my favourite people and proving to be an amazing guide, always taking us to hidden gems with the best views, food, service and giving great advice for how to operate / function Indian style.

As we walk through the narrow streets of the city we are back into traffic chaos where the horns provide the background music and if you're not careful you are skimmed by passing motorcycles, tuk tuks, cows or cars. Claus has to find this out the hard way and his shoulder has an unfortunate and abrupt argument with a tuk tuk. The narrow streets snake to form the old city and they are home to various shops mainly selling the region's famous miniature art, textiles and tailoring services.

Ricky explains that we have arrived in the most romantic city in India. So far it's not clear why it has earned the right to this title. And then we reach Lake Pichola sitting right in the middle of the city...

The lake is 4km long and 3km wide and forms a beautiful backdrop to the huge City Palace (Rajasthan's largest) which sits on the east side of the water. Sitting out in the middle of the lake are a couple of islands and also the Lake Palace, a white intricately built structure that casts a beautiful reflection of light on the still water. The city reminds me of India's version of Venice (just dirtier, shabbier and with motor vehicles). I now completely understand how it's earned it's reputation.

We climb some steps and enjoy dinner on a rooftop restaurant with amazing views over the huge palace. My food is washed down with a Kingfisher beer (which I've developed a taste for in the absence of wine) and before long we find ourselves in a tuk tuk again making a stop for supplies. The driver's nine year old son, with the cheekiest grin I've ever seen, watches us in fascination. It's like we're a pack of rare and endangered animals caged in his Dad's vehicle. The Dad explains that he is teaching the boy English who then proudly declares his name and his age in a perfectly crafted sentence. The father tells us that he tells his son every day that nothing is impossible and he can achieve anything he wants. This humbles and inspires me. If I ever have kids I will try and tell them this every day.

We make it back to the hotel and we round off the day with a bottle of rum on the roof. Ricky tells us that he has had to promise his Mum he will only drink alcohol on one night on his tour. Drinking seems to be frowned upon by the more traditional community. Demonstrating typical Indian ingenuity he finds a loophole in this by declaring the rum, for the rest of the week, as medicine for his sore throat.

I love India.