Day 88 - Udaipur, India

Day 88 – Hers.

We awoke at 8 and had coffee in the room before emerging – this made quite a difference to Rob; he’s never really with it until after his morning coffee so he has sort of wandered through the first hour of each day until we got here. A kettle in the room is really all it takes!

We met the group at nine and walked along the lakeside up to the entrance of the City Palace.  The City Palace is huge – it took 3 hours just to see the 1/3 that’s open to the public. The Maharanah (He’s the king of Udaipur – a maharanah outranks even a maharajah.) lives in another 1/3 – well for part of the year. He actually lives in London for 6 months – he’s  there now but expected back here in time for the Diwali festival.  Our local guide was a very humorous and knowledgeable 71 year old gentleman – obviously of very high caste – who has been leading tours for 51 years.  He showed us the living quarters of the polio-afflicted Maharanah from the early 1900s and his wife – and the quarters of his grandfather who was quite a character.  It seems he had 1600 wives – each with a number rather than a name and each of whom got to visit the spectacular kama sutra room with the king one night every five years.  She was dressed and made up in a mirrored and gem-studded room, then awaited his majesty’s pleasure in a room with a richly embroidered window seat – and also a swing.  This particular Maharanah refused to attend the Delhi conference called by King George – the only Indian king to do so – and there was never a British colonial administrator in Udaipur. Neither did the Murghuls ever rule here.  The fortress and kingdom has been ruled by the same family for 1300 years, protected by the surrounding mountains.  There was however a curse on the family – placed by one princess named Krishna who committed suicide to avoid a war.  She had been engaged to the Maharajah of Jaipur who sent his wedding procession for her – but the Maharajah of Jodhpur also sent a procession.  To avoid a war between the two, the princess drank a bottle of poison and foretold that the family would never hence have any sons to rule as direct descendants.  This came to pass – the family had no further sons in direct succession to the throne until after the declaration of the republic. 

After our tour, we wandered around the town a bit – there are many temples and palaces (Most now expensive hotels.) set around some beautiful man-made lakes.  Udaipur is, in fact, known as the ‘City of Lakes’ in the guidebooks.  The lakes are, indeed, beautiful this year and about 7 metres deep – but are very dependent on the monsoon rains.  Apparently, in 2009 there was very little rain in the monsoon season – and the lake palaces were ‘mud’ palaces, the locals played cricket on the dried out lake beds and the tourist industry was very badly hit.

We had lunch seated on cushions on the upstairs balcony of the Lotus Cafe.  Rob is still babying his stomach – he had boiled eggs and toast.  I had a lovely, spicy vegetable curry with some kind of bhaji type things.  We returned to the hotel after lunch for a swim – and dried off in the sun, watching the hotel’s 3 pet tortoises wander around the gardens.

Day 88 – His

One of the great things about travelling is the ideas it gives you. Yesterday – was it really only yesterday? – anyway, let’s say it was – yesterday, while wandering around the palace I came across a style of painting called Marwar – never heard of it before – but, apparently, they use gold and silver leaf and some kind of weird tin alloy and a specialist technique to create vivid metallic colours. This is in fact oddly useful to me with one of the ideas I have. So as part of our wander around Udaipur we went to a Marwar painting school where they were happy to teach me how to make and use these paints – I am so pleased . So now I think I will use these techniques in a couple of projects I have waiting for me when I get home.

After my painting lessons we went out to see the sunset over the lakes and wander around the Tibetan market – which seems to be where the locals go to find their jumpers and Pashminas. We almost bought something but we have been told southern India is so much cheaper we are waiting to see.

We leave for the airport tomorrow at half five and this is our last night as a group. We lose three members who are travelling on to Delhi with our northern India tour guide. We go unescorted to meet our southern Indian guide who has the unlikely name of Dennis.

So, we went out for a last night dinner at a restaurant by the lake and said our traditional farewells and gave the obligatory hugs to those we were losing and walked back through the town to sleep – half five comes very quickly when you go to bed at eleven!

Day 87 - Jodhpur to Ranakpur and Udaipur, Rajasthan, India

Day 87 – His

 The day began with me suffering the effects of last night’s dinner and a badly cooked chicken.  Someone else was suffering the same discomfort so I swear it was the chicken. Unfortunately today was scheduled to be an 8 hour drive down to Udaipur so I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. We had breakfast at our home stay and their big old Labrador pranced around us looking for food scraps. Labradors have a tendency to fat and this particular one was the size of a small coffee table, broad, squat and full of energy. He had already knocked a couple of people over. Our host was an ex air vice marshal and absolutely fascinating to talk to as most of his family (back 22 generations) had been in the army.

We drove for hours reading and dozing as we passed through countryside that was vaguely reminiscent of African savannah but with more palm trees and slightly fewer antelopes until we reached the temple of Ranakpur.

The temple of Ranakpur is a Jain temple and for those of you who don’t know what Jainism is and can’t be bothered to look it up – Jainism is a strict Hindu sect that believes that all things are a form of life for example fog, rain etc. So, as life is sacred and they are not allowed to kill anything the more serious of them wear masks in the fog and all of them don’t eat meat. They are only allowed to eat something if it has been killed for them – and then only vegetables. A pretty handy clause as not having it would mean the Jain sect would have died out years ago. I seem to remember that one vitamin – a B vitamin, I think – can only be sourced from meat products and strict veggies have to supplement their diet with vitamin pills if they are to avoid dying. The Jains, of course, have no vitamin pills and this was a cause of much interest to the world community and the World Health Organisation in particular who sent a team to find out why the Jains weren’t dead given their utter lack of this otherwise essential vitamin. The research team discovered that though the Jains weren’t eating any animal products per se, their grain stores had been infiltrated by mice and the mice on eating the rice left a little present for them in the grain. So, the highly religious sect owed its continued existence to eating the droppings the mice were leaving in the food. Something of a salutary tale I feel.

Anyhow, the Jains take the whole deal pretty seriously and they make you remove any animal products and you have to be covered (down to your knees and elbows) before you enter their temple. It is all very holy – particularly the 100 rupees they charge if you want to take a photo.

The Temple itself was particularly gorgeous, all intricately carved limestone that looked very much like Ankor Wat or at least like Ankor Wat would have looked like if it hadn’t been wrecked.

We clambered aboard the bus and wended our way off for another four hours or so until we got to Udaipur.

 

Day 87 – Hers.

It was a very long drive.  Bad enough on the toll roads through the desert – but quite nauseating on the winding, uphill bit through the nature reserve when we had to turn off the air conditioning and breathe the diesel fumes.  The landscape was quite beautiful in places – I must find out the name of the white-trunked trees with the fern-like leaves – and the villages interesting.  The Jain temple was, in fact, stunning – and the first place we have found that was very strict about its dress code.

Udaipur was also a pleasant surprise.  First impressions are that it is quite modern, reasonably clean and certainly our hotel has facilities we haven’t seen for a while: free wifi, cable TV, a kettle in the room, a lovely swimming pool and laundry service.  When we arrived, we spent an hour reconnecting to the world – and then met up with the group again for dinner.

Dinner was at another hotel restaurant – we still haven’t convinced Prabhev to take us anywhere truly local – but was still nice.  Rob had a pizza (something normalish given his fragile digestive system) and I had a vegetable biryani – quite spicy....I am finally managing to get across the fact that I don’t want the bland Westernised version of things – with my favourite fresh lime soda.  I note that many of the Australians are now having fresh lime sodas at lunchtime – not at dinner, though, then it’s definitely beer.

After dinner, we retired to our room for a last coffee and an early night – I still haven’t figured out why it’s so tiring to sit on a bus, but I’m exhausted!

Day 86 - Nimaj to Jodhpur, Rajasthan, India

Day 86 – Hers.

 

Up at 6 this morning for a sunrise jeep safari.  In an open top jeep, we drove through the semi-desert landscape and climbed a dune to watch the sun rise over a lake – drinking chai and commenting  that if we didn’t know better, we would think we were in the African savanna.  We saw blue bull antelope, peacocks, wild pigs, green parrots and some strange striped bird – perhaps some kind of jay.  Tigers were hunted to extinction in this part of India 50 years ago – but we still saw more wildlife than in Chitwan National Park.  Only 5 of us decided to get up for the trip – the rest of our group really missed out.

We stopped in a village – where an old woman showed us how to make chapati on her clay stove, brick makers and potters demonstrated their crafts, the village elders gathered under a central tree to discuss the day, women in brightly-coloured saris set out trinkets to entice us and goats, dogs, cats and cows wandered at will through the narrow streets.  We also stopped at a 9^th century temple – partially in ruins, destroyed by the Moslem Murghul rulers – with intricate carvings of Durga, Kaali, Ganesh and a number of other gods and goddesses still so fresh that they could have been carved yesterday.  We returned to our hunting lodge hotel for coffee and then a walk to tour the Maharajah’s palace, just up the hill and now a hotel - and a taste of the street food, a sweet, sticky orange thing called Jalla-something.... (My head says ‘jellybean’, but I know that’s not right......).

We then packed up our belongings for the 2 hour journey to Jodphur – home of the game of polo, the ‘Blue City’ and the famous trousers.

 

Day 86 – His.

 

We are homestaying in Jodphur. Basically that means we are spread out between two houses that offer rooms as part of some homestay program that as far as I can see is a sort of B and B deal unique to this area. The places are nice and homely and the families are doing a good job at making us feel welcome. Lunch was served by a kindly older lady who has far too much chintz for my taste but as we are actually staying down the road at a cousin’s – who is an ex military man- it hardly matters. Lunch was a home cooked affair of spices and cakes – lovely – i particularly liked the spicy cheese sandwiches but Patti went head over heels for the stuffed pitta bread things – she had three!

After we settled in, which really means dumped our bags off, we headed out to visit the fort on the hill. It’s an impressive structure with 30% open to the public and an audioguide to take you round – which means no tipping – now that’s a first. It took a good two hours to get round but it was fascinating with a good look at the life of the local king – who is still around. He lives in the old palace across the city, we saw his chamber of love, the armoury, the manwar paintings, the scars of old battles and the spiked gates that kept the elephants at bay. Apparently, the fort was never captured in all its 500 year history.

We appear to have arrived at the beginning of the Jodphur Riff – which is a folk music festival – that kicks off at half 8 in the main square so we decided to go into the market place, grab dinner and wait for the festival to start. The market place was dusty and uninspiring so after 15 minutes we retired to a handy coffee shop and drank coffee and watched the market from the window. This seemed to be a favourite option for most of the group as we met them in there and only a few dragged themselves around the trinket stalls diligently looking for presents for home. The restaurant we chose was some rooftop place that had a write up in the lonely planet and it was very cool to have dinner outside, three floors up with the fort – well lit for the night – looming over us. Another real moment. I was kind of reminded of that scene in Bladerunner where the replicant is dying and lets go of the dove and just before he dies he talks about all the things he has seen and says – all those moments!

This was truly a moment.

We finished dinner at just the time the festival began and were sitting in front of the clock tower as the first act came on. Though we did have to pass through quite a throng of people and most of the children seemed intent on touching us as we went by. A couple of the girls thought they were just being molested until I told them the kids had been touching me too – some kind of good luck thing? Who knows – well they do I guess, but they weren’t telling, just touching us as they went past.

The festival was pretty cool. We saw fire dancers, traditional music, some kind of weird fusion of didgeridoo and trad Indian and a couple of girls dancing with a bicycle wheel balanced on their various body parts while a boy sat on their heads – I kid you not. What those two girls couldn’t do with a teenage boy and a bicycle wheel just wasn’t worth doing.

We headed off just before the end and before the crowds got serious to climb into a tuk tuk convoy – there are 16 in the group so it takes quite a few tuk tuks to carry us all and makes for quite a convoy – and we set off for home. Quite an odd day from antelopes to didgeridoos all in one day – only in India I guess.

 

Day 85 - Tordi to Nimaj, Rajasthan, India

Day 85 – His

 

Today was supposed to be only a four hour drive to Nimaj, another little village in the middle of nowhere, India. What that means is that most of the people haven’t seen a white skin outside of the movies and they all assume we are either American or film stars or a mix of both. Unfortunately for some reason unknown to us it took over six hours to get here so we all arrived tired and a little grumpy.

We had two stops along the way the first being at a petrol station and the second at some roadside cafe that in order to get to the driver of our bus crossed the dual carriageway we were on and drove for a couple of miles along the wrong side of the road. It was a bit hairy to have all the traffic coming at us flashing lights and blowing horns but the driver seemed perfectly happy and we arrived in one piece – so what is there to complain about.

After arriving at the hotel we had lunch and were supposed to go on a jeep safari. But the bus journey had been too much and no one felt like doing it so we rearranged it for tomorrow morning. What most people did – us included, was laze by the poolside (This hotel, which is an old maharajah’s hunting lodge, has a pool!) and our guide arranged massages for everyone. So in the end – despite the long bus journey - the afternoon and evening turned out to be pretty relaxing.

Day 84 - Tordi Garh, Rajastan, India

Day 84 – Hers.

A much better night’s sleep – apparently even the people given our old room slept well – as the festival had a night off.  We went up onto the terrace for breakfast, packed and left Jaipur at a very civilised 10am for the four hour bus ride to Tordi Garh.  Don’t bother trying to find it in a guide book – Tordi Garh is a small, traditional village 2 plus hours down a rural dirt road in the middle of Rajasthan.  There is only one place to stay – but it is a magnificent 17^th century palace in the process of restoration.

The landscape is still very similar to the southern Mediterranean – desert with small trees and scrub – mostly flat, though there are a few hills and sand dunes running along the horizon – and cradling Tordi Garh itself.

We were given the traditional rose petal and tikka mark welcome at the palace, as well as a wrist band to ward off evil spirits – the children of the household were in charge of making the tikka marks and throwing the rose petals.  The little boy throwing rose petals was particularly exuberant – several of us got a fistful of petals right in our eyes.... We also received a welcome drink of ‘Thumbs Up’ cola.  I had seen this in the shops and wondered what it was like - - - absolutely fine, as it happens – though I would still prefer a diet version; they do like their drinks very sweet here. 

We had lunch in the dining room just off the main roof terrace.  We had lentil and garlic soup followed by a buffet that included chickpea dumplings in a buttermilk curry sauce, curried aubergine, curried potatoes, rice, cucumber and tomato. It was absolutely delicious – and the lady of the house later explained to us how she made each dish.  Much of it seemed to be an art – I will have to try some of these things when I get home......   Dessert was a dish similar to rice pudding but made with tiny vermicelli instead of rice,  It was also delicious – Rob had three helpings, I think!

After lunch, we assembled for a walking tour of the village. Prabhev explained the caste system and that this village was one that had originally been set aside for people of the lowest caste.  It is no longer acceptable to use the term ‘untouchables’ – I’m not surprised....I don’t think it would ever have been acceptable to me.  Our guide also explained the traditional methods of building – using a plaster made from cow dung – and we toured the workshop of a local potter.  Several of our group had a go – only Lisle was able to turn out anything that actually looked like a pot – must be all that practice with her primary school kids!

The children of the village ran up to us asking to have their photos taken; pigs, cows, goats and dogs roamed the streets; the elderly women peeked out at us from under their colourful scarves and many of the men just looked up from their work or board games and stared.  It was difficult to know who was on show – them or us!  We returned from our walk at 5:00, just as the camel-drawn carts arrived at the hotel for our evening adventure.

 

Day 84 – His

Camels are surprisingly large animals – especially when you stand so close to them. Several of the guys had heard the stories of camels being bad tempered beasts, spitting and biting and all that, so they were quite nervous of them. These particular animals seemed pretty docile and stood quite calmly as we stroked them and pulled them around so we could have our pictures taken with them. It was all quite charming. We loaded ourselves on the cushion covered carts and went trotting off through the village to the edge of a desert the village stands on. As we drove through the village, kids came running out to shout hello and to pose for more photos. Honestly, the whole thing had an unbelievable charm to it. The large sand dune we climbed was right on the edge of the dessert and the hotel staff had brought tea for us as we sat and watched the sun set over the dunes. One of our group declared that, for her, this was one of the highlights of the trip and I can see what she means. We climbed down from the hill just as it was getting dark and a couple of the guys decided to roll down instead of walking. Kylie tumbled head over heels into a dusty, sandy heap at the bottom and Rewa followed, losing an expensive ring in the process. We spent the next ten minutes searching the dune by torch light – a pretty futile exercise – but it made Rewa feel happier about her loss.

The ride back seemed shorter than the ride there but this is so often the case and the hotel staff – which is really the family of the guy who owns the place – I think he is some long lost feudal lord transported to the twenty first century – served us drinks on the roof of the hotel and arranged for Caroline to ride his horse around the next morning. His wife came out to chat to us for a while and gave away several of her family’s secret recipes for some of the delicious food she had been cooking for us. The whole experience was one of the reasons we go with Geckos. This was not something you can do on a standard tour and is certainly not something you would get to do if you were travelling by yourself. I know that sounds like a shameless plug for Geckos, but, to be honest, I don’t care. They do this kind of thing very well indeed and the whole thing was a highlight for me too. There is only one serious drawback i can think of and that is the dune was covered in small biting insects, my feet look like they have chicken pox. I suppose more sensible shoes might have been in order. AH well, we live and learn.

Day 83 - Jaipur, India

Day 83 – His

 

Apparently there is a nine day music festival going on. I only found this out at two in the morning. The music we heard last night was from the festival and it went on and on ..... and on. It was about midnight when I got up and went out onto the roof balcony for a bit of relief from it. It was there that I found out it was all part of this festival. Our guide was there having a drink with a few of the guys from our group and he told me. Apparently it will go on all night – or so he said and from my experience of it that was most certainly true. Our room, though lovely is right by the restaurant and it sounds as if the musicians were in the room with us. They have their instruments amplified so much it is shaking the windows. About four I tried stuffing my ears with toilet paper. Finally I fell asleep around five – which was good apart from the fact that we had to get up at six thirty to go to the Amber Palace.

Breakfast was a dreary affair of hanging my head over a cup of coffee and trying to prise my eyes open even though we were having breakfast on the roof terrace and the view was spectacular.  We set off the fort – which is the main attraction around here at about eight and arrived twenty minutes later.

The fort is a kind of Indian great wall and the structure marches for kilometres in all directions. To give you an idea of what it’s like – if it weren’t for the crenulations the place would look Moroccan and if it weren’t for the wall the landscape would look Mediterranean.

The place feels older than the red fort in Agra and more lived in but is pretty much the same – apparently they were built around the same time – only one by a maharajah and the other by an emperor.

We spent quite a few hours there and ended up in a very westernised coffee shop in the castle grounds sipping a very nice coffee and looking out at the village of Amber that surrounds the castle. It could be that I was so tired that I consider that to be a highlight of the morning. After leaving the shop we dropped in at a small art gallery in the grounds that was displaying local artists’ modern interpretation of classic Indian art – it was pretty cool and I was reminded of a friend of mine from years back – a guy called Ash – who was doing something very similar but in Stockton on tees – his work was good but didn’t really translate very well from Jaipur to the north east of England.

We drove back via some castle in a lake where we stopped to take scenic photos but actually i just wanted to get back and have a sleep. On arrival at the hotel we discovered that our guide had arranged for us to change rooms – so we have some hope of sleeping tonight – he’s a really nice guy – even so, we fell asleep for a couple of hours at least. It was just impossible to keep our eyes open.

 

Day 83 – Hers.

Well, we’ve certainly had a cultural experience here in Jaipur – front row, dress circle for a music festival that lasted all night long.   I walked around the magnificent Amber Palace this morning in a daze.   The walls of the old city climb the crests of the surrounding hills in a way that is very reminiscent of the Great Wall of China – though, as Rob mentioned, the landscape is dry Mediterranean.  The dry heat here is quite a relief after the extreme humidity we have faced for much of our journey.  The dust is still quite cloying, though.

Our new room in the palace hotel is not nearly as nice as our original suite – but, to be honest, all we plan to do in it is sleep – and since it is at the front of the hotel, well away from the festival, I have high hopes!

After our midday nap, we lunched on provisions in the room and then went out into the old city to stroll around.  Dinner was the touristy version of the street food we had for lunch yesterday – from a quite intriguing hotel deli sort of place.  Half of our group went to see the latest Bollywood movie and then were going out for dinner after that.  In our dog-tired state, we just managed to stagger back to the hotel not long after dark, shower and read a bit - until we just couldn’t keep our eyes open any longer.

Day 82 - Agra to Jaipur, India

Day 82 – Hers.

Another travel day – this time from Agra to Jaipur by ‘public’ bus - a mere 6 hours.  As in many developing countries, there are two classes of public bus – one for the locals and one for the tourists.  This one was not nearly as plush as the tourist class buses in Peru or even Vietnam, but it had air conditioning, assigned seats and a luggage compartment – so it was fine.  In fact, the air conditioning was so cold that I was glad I had both a jacket and scarf.  Several of our fellow travellers didn’t have such foresight and I am certain I saw icicles hanging from their noses by the time we reached the halfway rest stop.  We climbed out into searing heat – and promptly bought an ice cream.  I couldn’t find green rice flake but I had some other unidentifiable nutty/sweet flavour and Rob had serious chocolate.  We managed to speak with all but the four most militant tip dodgers and mend fences this morning – so we haven’t been as ostracised as we feared – and we started a trend with the ice cream, so we all ended up chatting and laughing together as we climbed back into the fridge for the second half of the journey.

The roads are so much better than anything we have seen since China - and not very crowded, at least on the toll roads.  When we turned off into towns, they were more lively with donkeys and camels (yes, camels!) pulling carts, bicycles, motorbikes and Tata cars and trucks all vying for road space.

Jaipur is also the most pleasant city we have seen so far in India.  We entered the outskirts, driving along wide, clean, tree-lined avenues.  We passed parks, a polo ground, a golf course and a very modern commercial street.  We turned in through the gates of the old city and were greeted by mile after mile of colourful shops, all tucked under the ‘pink’ colonnades lining each side of the main streets.  Jaipur is known as the ‘pink city’ (though the colour is actually more terra cotta).  Apparently, the buildings were originally yellow but were painted their current colour for the visit of the Prince of Wales in the 19^th century.  It is supposed to be the best place in northern India to shop for silks and jewellery.  I can well believe it – and I may have to buy something as the range of beautiful fabrics, shoes and jewels is just incredible.

Our hotel is equally fabulous.  We are staying at the Mrignayani Palace – part of the 300 year old residence of the prime minister of Jaipur state.  We were greeted with rose petals thrown from the balcony, a tikka blessing and a flower garland and awaited our room assignments in silk-covered throne-sized chairs under ornate carvings and stained glass in the first reception room.  Our room is actually a suite, up some stairs, down a corridor, across two terraces, past the music room and up some more stairs.  There are also a rooftop garden and three roof terraces, the topmost giving a fantastic view of the city. But – unfortunately – no internet.....

We took a few minutes to settle in and then our guide, Prabhev, took us on a forced march tour of the city centre – past the City Palace, Palace of the Winds and several streets of the bazaar, across a round-about (where he caused a small accident by forcing the traffic to stop for us – it is his home town and he clearly feels in charge!) and straight to a tourist restaurant for lunch.  Rob and I decided at this point to go off on our own.  For the first time in India, I felt a city was hygienic enough to try the street food and friendly enough to stroll around without the safety of a huge group.  We bought some strange fruit that is kind of a cross with a nut and some fried concoctions with curry sauce – Rob’s had mystery meat (his favourite) and mine had spinach, wrapped in some sort of dough.  We fended off tuk tuk drivers and persistent gem salesmen, still managing to look at some of the different foods and clothes for sale – and wended our way back to the hotel.

 

 Day 82 – His

We seem to have got into a bit of a habit of going out for dinner with the group which is quite pleasant if a little expensive. Tonight’s trip was to the very same hotel that the film Hotel Marigold was shot in. I have never seen the film – is there a book? – but now I feel almost obliged to see it. The dinner was very pleasant. To some extent, though, we in England have been spoilt by some excellent Indian cuisine and the food here is not much different to the stuff you can get in Neasden or Kingstanding (which is in Birmingham for those less acquainted with the suburbs of Birmingham than I am) The setting was, however, substantially different. You try eating Indian food while dancers spin around your table, fire eaters walk between the staff and local musicians play folk music in a rainy suburb of London and I think you will begin to understand. We ate on the grass surrounded by these things and not one spot of rain fell. The tuk tuk rides to and from the dinner were experiences in themselves – more akin to roller coaster rides at ground level than anything else – and both interesting and exciting in equal measure.

There is one unfortunate thing – our hotel is right next door to another restaurant that seems intent on playing traditional music into the small hours so I am not sure how much sleep we will get until it closes – ah well the joys of travel.

Day 81 - Agra, India (Taj Mahal)

Day 81 – His.

At half five we were woken by our guide as he went up and down the carriage. We had enough time for a banana and water before the train pulled in. Everyone is a little tired and whiny - which is no real surprise but thankfully our transport to the hotel was waiting and whisked us off pretty sharpish. The most unfortunate thing about arriving so early is that there are no rooms for us at the inn and a distinct lack of stables. So, we hung around the lobby for a while arguing about tips. Tips are such a strange thing. There is such a huge expectation of tips here that normally the guide organises a tipping kitty. This seems reasonable to me but not to the average Australian mind it would seem, and the issue of the tipping kitty just keeps rumbling on – it is beginning to grate a little.

Still, after a stiff coffee and a break we were feeling a little better and we set off to see the red fort. Agra is most well known for the Taj Mahal and very little is said about the red fort but it is truly stunning and built largely in the same style as the Taj Mahal which you can see from the fort walls. Agra is much more prosperous than Varanasty. The streets are largely paved, the people better dressed and there are far more tourists here.

By the time we had walked around it and returned to our hotel, the rooms were ready and I think the thing most of us can think about is getting a shower and having a little sleep before lunch and a trip out to see what everyone comes here to see.

Day 81 – Hers.

The Taj Mahal is stunning.  The white marble, intricately carved and inlaid with semi-precious stones gleams in the sun – a token of love from the fourth Moghul to his wife.  The atmosphere is not as tranquil as I would have liked – tens of thousands of tourists snap photos at every point up to the mausoleum itself – unless you wander a bit into the gardens.  There is also a little museum, not very well visited, that shows details of the inlay techniques,  architectural drawings and some artefacts from the period.  Most interesting – to my mind – is a bowl that purportedly changes colour when it comes into contact with poisoned food.  We posed for and took all the requisite photos, visited the tombs and strolled around for an hour, meeting everyone back at the main gate.

Our local guide for the day then took us to a marble cutter’s – we skipped the hard sell and walked back to the hotel, stopping at a supermarket to buy yet more provisions for another long bus ride tomorrow.  The young Texan girl got to talking to a couple of locals outside the shop, one of whom offered to take her on a ‘beer run’ on the back of his motorbike.  She thought this was a great idea until Rob asked her to think carefully about what she was doing......

We all went out to dinner together to an extremely touristy restaurant – musicians, trinket sellers and over priced curries so mild you could hardly tell they were curries.  I asked for mine to be spicy and they accommodated me by bringing a delicious chili sauce that I could add – much better – but still over-priced for what it was.

The tipping kitty saga rolled on. Our guide has been paying the tips out of his own pocket while several Australians questioned his integrity – 1500 rupees each for 12 days? How do we know it’s actually going to the right people? – we just gave him our share earlier this evening.  The main protagonists then came up with some complicated thing of each signing a sheet to say we were putting in 500 rupees now and having one of the group audit each tip as it was given.  When they approached us to join this, Rob just told them that their plan was disgusting and we want no part of it.  I fear we will now be ostracised – but, honestly, tipping is part of the culture here and it is laid out quite clearly in the trip information.  To question the integrity of our tour guide is out of order and insulting.  I guess we will just keep to ourselves.

Day 80 - Varanasi, India

Day 80 – Hers.

We had a huge dinner last night in the hotel dining room – a bit of a cop out, but quite jolly as our Nepalese guide, Bimal, had joined us (He had some free days between tours and had never been to Varanasi.) and we were comparing Indian, Nepali and English food, manners and languages.  There was a bit of a mix up with my meal – one of the other girls from our group had ordered something similar and taken my meal when it arrived.  When hers arrived, I said it wasn’t mine  and the mix up was discovered.  After a bit of ummming and ahhing, they made me another meal and we ended up with three meals altogether that we shared around.  Both dishes were vegetarian in a deliciously spicy spinach sauce – so they complimented each other quite well and we left the restaurant waddling.

Rob and I both had another great night’s sleep and a lie in.  This was a free day before the night train to Agra and we both felt we had seen pretty much all we needed to see of Varanasi.  

Our brunch adventure was to the local Western-style mall where we had seen a McDonald’s.  We were curious about how they would handle the ‘no beef’ Hindu diet.  I had a ‘McEgg’ sandwich – but the winner was definitely Rob’s ‘McAloo Tikki’ burger – a spicy potato and pea patty with tikka sauce.  We then took a bicycle rickshaw into town to buy provisions for our train journey and settled down with ‘1 hour internet – just 40 rupees’......

Day 80 – His

Patti sort of failed to mention that she didn’t like her McEgg (the second half was loaded with mayonnaise)– and she decided this halfway through eating it so we swapped – and I agree my McAloo had been so much better – ah well the things i do for love. After our ‘McDonalds’ we set off to find the centre of town. The plan had been to take a rickshaw. Unfortunately taking a rickshaw in Varanasty seems to be a little like playing with a loaded gun. We ended up in the middle of an industrial estate despite telling our driver where we wanted to go. We made him stop – hopped off and told him in no uncertain terms to go away. He went away – eventually – after trying to convince us to get back on and go to his brother’s silk factory. After we got rid of him we were still left with the problem of where on earth were we. Luckily, Varanasty isn’t a town of many high buildings and after walking for a bit in the direction we thought our hotel was we spotted the Radisson. The Radisson is a big hotel next to ours with a huge sign telling you what it is so we set off in that direction. We only got lost twice more but we also managed to buy all the things we needed by popping into little stores along the way – still after an hour and a half of walking we were pretty tired of the place by the time we got back. I sort of thought we had been unlucky with our rickshaw driver but when we talked to the other members of our group it turned out having rickshaw drivers that took you where they wanted to go and not where you wanted to go was pretty normal. Most of them had stories about being driven all over the place apart from where they wanted to go – what a drag.

By the time we got back to our hotel we didn’t have that long until we were due to meet to set off for the railway station so we bought a little internet time and caught up with the blog and e-mails.

I was mildly disappointed by the railway. I had imagined it would be far more crowded and chaotic than it was. That is not to say it wasn’t crowded and chaotic – it most certainly was – it was just not as crowded and chaotic as I had imagined. Maybe I have become a little inured courtesy of travelling Asia so much but i found it okay.

The sleeper train was much the same as the sleepers in China if a little grubbier and without the water boiler at the end of the carriage and with a family of mice that ran up and down around us all night long trying to beat the cockroaches to any crumbs of food we may have dropped.

We all bundled ourselves up in the blanket and sheets (which were provided by a little man in brown paper bags who sleeps in a cupboard next to the toilets. – that is the sheets were in brown paper bags – not the little man – and I am not kidding about the cupboard.) So, we bundled ourselves up and were asleep by nine – not that I expect to get a whole lot of sleep. The train is due in at Agra at 6 in the morning – I expect to be tired.

Day 79 - Varanasi, India

Day 79 – Hers

Up at 4:30. Ugh. But we have still been a bit spoiled here – a huge bed, soft pillows for the first time in a month, air conditioning, HOT showers and a swimming pool.  We assembled at 5 and loaded into the mini vans for a drive through the predawn light, passing an all-night singing competition (part of the festival) to the square by St Thomas’ church, only about 500 yards from the Ganges.  We walked down to the main ghat (A ghat is a set of steps leading to the river – there are 84 in all, one for each 100,000 beings in existence, according to Hindu belief) with hundreds of other tourists. Only a few of the sadhus, hawkers and market traders were up – those particularly keen to sell their flower petals, neem medicine sticks, postcards and memory cards (these seemed a bit of an odd thing to be selling in such abundance) - many still slept in metal shuttered doorways, awaiting a more civilised hour.  However, when we reached the river, the ghats teemed with people – tourists, locals, Brahmin priests, sadhus, families awaiting cremations, boatmen, hawkers, bathers, etc. etc. etc.   We climbed into a boat and were rowed upstream as the sun rose and we all photographed the scene like things possessed (maybe that’s why so many memory cards are for sale....).  Every once in a while, a boat would pull alongside ours, selling trinkets, containers for holy water, postcards  - and, in the case of one very enterprising soul, DVDs that he was advertising on a player he had set up in his boat.

Our local guide tried to convince us that despite 600 cremations per day (ashes straight into the river), several other river burials for those not allowed to be cremated (sadhus, pregnant women, lepers, children under 10 and snakebite victims), assorted daily ablutions and rituals, the water is bacteria neutral.  Only Rob was brave enough to deliberately splash himself.  I had 3 dots of spray land on my arm – that will have to suffice for my ‘purification’......

Apparently, purification in the Ganges and cremation in Varanasi releases one’s spirit from the cycle of reincarnation.  Every Hindu who can afford it wants to come here at least once – and wants to die here.  I took a few photos to send to our Nepalese family. I am certain they would love to come.

As the sun rose, we were rowed back downstream, past the main ghat and the largest crematorium where several cremations were taking place.   We disembarked and then walked through the narrow, medieval alleyways encountering, temples, cows, chickens, dogs, goats, children, shops and a lot of poo back to the main road.  We told not to be disconcerted by the large police and armed guard presence.  The area between the temples and the mosque is well-protected, ensuring everyone’s safety.

Back at the hotel, we had breakfast and then our Northern India pre-trip meeting.  Many of the others then went off to a silk factory.  We have been on so many of those tours that we decided, instead, to get a few more hours of sleep  - so hit those fluffy, soft pillows.  We got up in time for lunch and a swim in the hotel pool before sorting ourselves out for our evening adventure- back to the ghats for the sunset rituals  - the whole place much busier when the shops are open!

 

Day 79 – His.

 We went down to the old town again and took a boat out onto the Ganges as the sun was sinking. To be honest, apart from that, Varanasi is a dump. It is the world’s oldest living city – about 5,000 years of constant habitation – it is the centre of the Hindu world and our guide told us it is the only place in the world where a river runs from south to north (Note from Patti: The Nile?). But apart from that it is still a dump. The streets are filled with beggars, hawkers, rubbish and cows and none so much as the streets going to the Ghats as we discovered on our evening trip. It was very different to the morning trip and filled with the faithful and tourists going to watch them and the seven priests who give a prayer to Shiva and the Mother Ganges every night from seven podiums above one of the Ghats. We took a boat down to the crematorium and then back to the main ghat in time for the priests to start. We sat for almost an hour as the service went on and floated candles on the river before getting back into our bus and heading for the hotel. The streets of Varanasi wear you out very quickly – there is such a press of people it takes your breath away but we have decided that is india. We leave tomorrow and I get a sense most of the people here can’t wait to get away – me neither.

Day 78 - Lumbini, Nepal to Varanasi, India

Day 78 – His.

Today was a travel day. Normally when I say that it means a few hours on a bus or train. But it is going to mean something different while we are in India. Our itinerary says we travel by bus, plane, train, jeep, boat and elephant. I like the elephant bit in particular – but it certainly gives you a clue that this will be something a bit different. Unfortunately today it meant 12 hours in the back of a van with two rest stops of about 10 minutes each. It has been a nightmare travel day from hell. But the only way to view these things is that they are an experience. Still, it also goes to prove the point that it is possible to have too much of a good thing.

We set off from Lumbini at 8 and got to the border crossing some 45 minutes later. The land crossing between India and Nepal is possibly one of the easiest I have crossed. The place still had that desperate wild west town feel that all border crossings seem to have but the bureaucratic process that is immigration was stunningly easy. We went into the Nepal side and got our exit stamps, crossed to India and the immigration guys actually helped fill in our forms (unheard of!) and in about 5 minutes we were across. We were dogged by the usual collection of sharks, sellers and money changers that tell you scare stories as they try to convince you to change your money there (in this case they told us the banks were going to be closed for 10 days because of the festival) or try to sell you cigarettes at inflated prices and offer you two camels and a bolt of cloth for your daughter.

Still, on the whole it was astoundingly painless and we packed ourselves onto two waiting mini vans (it’s a large group and two vans were needed) so we could continue our journey through north India.

In terms of actual miles it’s not too far from the border to Varanasi but the state of the roads and standard Indian driving practice means we don’t do more than an average speed of 15 miles an hour as we dodge buses, buffalos, ox carts, cyclists, walkers and over decorated lorries. It was pretty obvious the locals don’t see a lot of tourists – or white faces. We were the object of intense interest every time we slowed down enough for the locals to peer in the windows and see what we looked like. Unfortunately the interest was a little too intense for our sister van behind us.

We were ahead in one van and our sister van was only 5 minutes behind us – but it seems that the old world war one story is true. That’s the one about lighting a cigarette. When you strike a match the sniper sees it, light the second cigarette and he has time to aim, light the third and he has time to shoot. This sort of applied to our vans – as we went through the locals had time to notice and organise and as the second van went through they had time to strike. Apparently as our sister van was pulled up waiting to pass a lorry, a gang of locals surrounded the van and threatened to smash in the windows unless they guys paid them some money – which of course they had to do. Another of life’s little experiences? I am certainly glad I was in the first van and I never light my cigarette from the third match. We have been told time and again India is a little different. This little episode has certainly forewarned us.

Our sister van caught up with us at a level crossing and the guys in the van were most upset. However, the general consensus was there was nothing to do and we drove on. Eventually we arrived at Varanasi but everyone is dog tired and irritable so we dispersed to our rooms to shower, order coffee and go to bed. We are up at 5 in the morning to go and see the sunrise over the Ganges. 5 in the morning! I have to wonder – are these people mad? Ah well, it is supposed to be fantastic – It had better be.

Day 77 - Chitwan and Lumbini, Nepal

Day 77 – Hers.

We had a good night’s sleep in the cool jungle air – snug under our mosquito net – packed and then breakfasted with the rest of our group, ready for the next part of our adventure – and our last full day in Nepal.

We all stowed our luggage on the bus and set off (less than half an hour late – a record for this group....but then there are 18 of us, including two lovely Colombian girls who seem to operate on the South American ‘manana’ principle – either that, or their clocks are slow) and set off on the 4 + hour drive from Chitwan to Lumbini.

We stopped at a very rustic little cafe for a tea break – Sam, the young Kiwi, approved ‘This is more authentic,’ he said before tucking into a huge plate of dal baht. -  He and Caroline, the marathon runner from Texas, had apparently done a 20 km run before breakfast., so he was hungry....)  Those of us who had been a bit less active had coffee or tea – and we set off again, arriving at our new jungle lodges at around 2:00.  Tonight’s lodgings are actually in the jungle – about 2 km from Lumbini, the birthplace of the Buddha and a pilgrimage site for Buddhists from all over the world.  Every national Buddhist organisation wants a monastery here – and the Nepali government has granted leases within a huge complex around the original Maya Devi temple site.

We lunched at the lodge and changed for our visit to the German monastery and sacred garden.  I decided -  as it was probably my last real opportunity – to wear my kulwa and sulta.  Needless to say, it caused comment – but also initiated a very interesting conversation with the lodge manager who turns out to be a devout Buddhist who feels it is his duty to conserve the environment around the holy area of Lumbini.  He spoke with us for some time about Nepal’s strengths and problems – and about the Buddhist ‘Middle Way’ approach of positive thinking, meditation and living in the moment.  It struck quite a chord – it’s very similar to Rob’s idea of ‘film moments’. 

The German monastery was beautiful – golden statues in the garden tell the story of the Buddha’s life.  Our guide, Bimal, not actually a Buddhist himself – but quite a scholar on all aspects of Nepali culture – explained each statue and encouraged us to walk around each section – always clockwise -  spinning the prayer wheels twice for longevity and good luck.  Inside the monastery are amazingly fine, detailed paintings from floor to ceiling – and the whole monastery is reflected in one of the many reflecting pools.  It was glorious in the dusty evening light.

From there we walked, with several hundred pilgrims (Chinese, Japanese, Indian, Nepali), dozens of monks and few other Western tourists to the Maya Devi temple and sacred garden.

 

Day 77 – His

This is holy land. The birthplace of Buddha and marked by the remains of a temple and a single footprint said to be Buddha’s first step. In common with other holy shrines there is an air around this one that encourages everybody to be silent and respectful. We walked slowly around the gardens or sat by the pool Buddha’s mother bathed in and watched the monks sitting beneath huge Bodhi tree decorated with candles and prayer flags. You are only allowed into the garden barefoot which was no real problem as the paths and gardens are kept scrupulously clean – as one would expect.

One of the Australian girls was most contemplative – I had a feeling that she was ready to convert there and then if only there had been a holy man in attendance she would have become a nun I am sure. As I said there is an air about the place and it seemed to touch everyone. After a short bus ride back to our hotel we took up a collection for our guide and bus driver and had a short speech of thanks. Normally on these tours we have a last night dinner with the guide and go off to some fancy restaurant but as we are in the middle of nowhere in a lodge in the jungle we had to make do with what the lodge had to offer, which - although tasty - was limited. Still it was a fun evening and as we have to get up at 6 in the morning for a 9 hour drive across the border and down to Varanasi – our first stop in India – most people went off to bed despite the vague interest in a game called ‘Beer Pong’. I have no idea what this is but it seems to involve a lot of drinking – so was a popular suggestion amongst some of our group members. Ah well, I am sure they will get to play it sometime in the next few weeks.

Days 75 and 76 Chitwan, Nepal

Day 75 - Hers
This was a travel day - and quite strange for me because I had made the same journey a month ago.....but it was the rainy season then - horridly hot and sticky with landslides to negotiate.  This trip was dry and dusty, still hot, but the lower humidity made it reasonably pleasant - only taking 7 hours, rather than 9 1/2. It was quite fun recognising places- I was glad that we didn't stop at the restaurant with the suspect cheese sandwiches for our tea break.  We stopped at a similar place that seemed much more hygienic - but I only had coffee and a packet of Oreos to ve sure.  We stopped for photos at exactly the place my rafting trip had finished - so I was able to show Rob where we had been.  The river is quite a lot lower now.  They are probably using the Trisuli instead.... We arrived at Chitwan at around 2:00 and it was quite strange....The lodge manager remembered me (or so he said- I suspect Bimal may have pointed me out...) and everything seemed familiar and sweet.  The woman at the corner shop did remember me - and was most impressed when I was able to speak to her in Nepali.  The Koftey vegetable momos at the Royal 'Restaurent' were as good as I remembered and the lodge gardens as beautiful.  Elephants strolled down the main street and water buffalo grazed by the river.  Rob and I had a leisurely dinner and then retired to our lodge, reading to the accompaniment of crickets, Mosquitos and a local acoustic band, playing at a hotel nearby.  A few days chilling here would be bliss.


Day 76 - His
As far as I can see, the whole point of Chitwan is to see the wildlife and ride an elephant, which is exactly what we did. We got up at half six and grabbed the usual breakfast of coffee under a tree and waited for the rest of our group to get themselves together. Groups are both good and bad to travel with. One the one hand they can be a lot of fun to share the experience with. Unfortunately, they take ages to get themselves together to do anything and the larger the group the disproportionately more time they take. So, it was eight O'clock before we loaded ourselves into the large open back truck that had arrived to ferry us to the game park. We are actually staying in the park itself so the drive to the reserve was about five minutes. We arrived to fine half a dozen elephants waiting for us. I have never ridden an elephant before - but then who of us has?  We rode four to an elephant on a little wooden platform called a 'howdah' strapped to the animals back. The mahout was armed with a little wooden stick that he would rap the elephants head with as he kicked its ears to indicate the direction. I think it was the most uncomfortable ride of my life by utterly fantastic. We swayed and rocked and plodded through the jungle keeping a sharp eye out for wildlife. Everyone of us was hoping to see a rhino or tiger but all we actually saw was a few deer and a huge amount of weird butterflies. One group claimed they saw a tiger attacking a deer but we think they were just pulling our leg. I have to say I wasn't the least bit disappointed. To my mind it was all about the ride and seeing the animals was a bonus. After the ride we went back to the hotel and as Patti had been here before we were forewarned. So, we rushed back to our room and changed into swimming gear and hurried down to the river. We got back at half ten and at that time everyday the mahouts bring their elephants down to the river by us and bathe them. For a few rupees they let you ride on the back of the elephant as it washes itself. It was huge fun. The elephant sprayed me and itself with river water form its trunk and after a few minutes of this it decided to roll over and I fell off. I can tell you the water was cols. Patti had her own elephant and was a little upstream from me. She stood up on hers and the elephant happily sprayed her head to toe. We were both soaked. But, as it was only a short walk back to our room and a hot clean shower neither of us minded that much. To my mind bathing with the elephants has to rank right up there. It is one of true highlights. The place we are staying in is a little basic but really cute. It is a series of little lodges strung out along gravel paths that absolutely teems with large snails. These things are as big as my fist and in the night the crawl over the windows. We are a stone's throw from the river and just on the edge of a tiny village that serves the tourist. The village is not much just a cluster of small shops and little family run places to eat - it is nothing like the tourist towns of say Greece. They only have one bar and I think it closes at ten. As I said it really is all about the animals. Well, until the evening. The hotel manager had a arranged a troupe of dancing boys. The boys dance traditional Nepali dances and the ticket price helps pay for their university. I think he does this for every group of tourists. But, even so it was pretty cool and the meal afterwards - though very reminiscent of dal bhat - was pretty good too. The Aussies crept off to the local shop to buy cheap beer - something I consider to be quite rude - and spent a great deal of the time concentrating on getting drunk and asking the staff if they had washed the veg in ,safe, water. I have begun to wonder if I really want to visit Australia. 

Day 74 - Kathmandu, Nepal

Day 74 – Hers.

Rob is forever trying to get me to schedule ‘chill’ days into our trips – so I had done exactly that for today.  I wasn’t feeling all that great (maybe he’s right and I’ve been overdoing it a bit....) and I must admit that a lazy day was quite nice!  We got up around 10 and had brunch in our room, taking advantage of the availability of power, internet and television.  We caught up on the BBC World news, CNN and then watched two films before the power went out.

Sanju from Quest popped over to see us so we stirred ourselves for coffee in the sunny hotel garden  - which was really nice.  We told him that we have already started marketing Quest – we told all the people in our new travel group of 19 about it – and several said that they might like to volunteer in the future. 

We sorted out our packs in preparation for a month’s travel, bought water and biscuits for a long bus journey tomorrow and had yet another Western dinner – that should hold us for awhile.  I’m certain we can now manage a month of the local delicacies as we travel from village to village to town to village through southern Nepal and India.  We have no idea what the internet access will be like – so have patience and we will upload the next instalment when we can!

Days 72 and 73 - Chovar and Kathmandu, Nepal

Day 73 – His.

 Quest offices are a mix of offices, kitchen and bedrooms. The volunteers who work for quest are encouraged to come down to the offices in the weekend and recharge their batteries in the company of their fellow volunteers for a day or two. It is a homely and comfortable spot with soft pillows, good cheer and lots of coffee if you want it. We got up late, had a warm shower and breakfast with Sanju and two girls who had been working in an orphanage.

They have internet there and Patti spent quite a while uploading the blog, reading e-mails and checking facebook. We finally made a move after lunch and chucked ourselves into a taxi Sanju got for us. After more hugs and goodbye scarves we were back at the Shakti and were pleasantly surprised to find the staff here actually remembered us. It was a bit like a homecoming – very odd. So we settled ourselves into our room and I went to pick up our washing. As part of our home stay we were expected to wash our bed linen so I had walked up from Quest last night to drop it off in a laundry near our hotel.

When I got back it was time to attend our group meeting. There are 19 of us – the group is huge and not inclined to listen. The leader had a hell of a time getting the information across as people kept chatting to each other and basically ignoring him. No doubt they will have a lot of questions later. Again they are mostly Australian and girls. There are a few couples, a couple of New Zealanders, a couple of Colombians – who spent most of the meeting looking confused – and an American woman who i fear is best described as having an interesting world view. They seem like a nice group but I strongly suspect we are not going to see much wild life on this trip as I suspect there are quite a lot of squealers amongst us. I have decided to adopt a pragmatic approach as they are only with us for 6 days and then we split into three trips and there will be only 9 of us travelling on through India.

Patti and I are quite tired. It is amazing how much you have to concentrate when you have no English speakers around you and getting back to the hotel has fairly knocked us off our feet. The plan, as far as we are concerned for the rest of the day and for the first day of our new tour is to chill. So we left the group to themselves for the night and we won’t be joining them tomorrow either – they are going to see a couple of temples we have already seen – so, after the meeting, I took the washing off to Quest where I spent half an hour having a coffee and saying more goodbyes. How many goodbyes can you say?

Dinner was a quiet affair, by ourselves, in a sweet little place that served continental food – weeks of Dal Bhat have made me appreciate my home food.

Day 72 – His

Well, this is our last day in Chovar. We were asked to make sure we got to school by nine thirty and when we arrived the headmaster had called an assembly. The school assembly had been suspended because of the building works and only resumed yesterday and today’s was in our honour. It was very sweet. The kids were in neat rows and after they sang the national anthem and done some whole school PE by numbers the vice principal gave a little speech to thank us for what we had done and the head presented us with good luck scarves – a real tradition here – the scarves are cream silk with Nepali words of good fortune woven into them – and little golden trophies with a token of love written on them. If we weren’t standing in front of a couple of hundred people I swear I would have cried. After the thanks and gifts we were called upon to say a few words – Patti’s little speech was great, mine was rubbish and Steve’s was clumsy. But, we were incredibly sweet. Assembly broke up and Patti and Steve went off to teach and I went back to working on the school roof.

At half eleven the school bell rang for a minute and all the kids came running out of the classrooms with their bags on their heads. It turns out they had arranged an earthquake practice drill. Just like we have fire drills they have earthquake drills. Of course, I have never seen such a thing. It was great. Just like a mummery. The kids were clearly loving it as they came out smiling and giggling. After they had assembled the older boys were armed with hard hats and stretchers and went hurrying off in search of the injured. Some of the younger kids had been held back and dressed up in fake blood and rubber wounds. The ‘injured’ kids were rushed to the staging area – doing their best to look injured – and treated to first aid by the teachers. It was truly brilliant and very well done.

The assembly and earthquake drill didn’t leave much more time at school – Nepal’s weekend is a day and a half and starts Friday at one and includes Saturday – So, I went back to cleaning the rubbish up from the front of the school. All week I have had a Nepali guy helping me. I have no idea who he is. He just turns up and works quietly beside me for the day and then disappears. Nobody really speaks to him and I have begun to worry that he isn’t really there and just a figment of my imagination. But he works hard for a figment. So we worked on clearing up until ‘coffee girl’ came up and invited Patti, Steve and me for a good by tea. – I think she wants to make sure Steve comes to say goodbye – Today is certainly going to be a day of goodbyes – personally, I hate goodbyes. But, I guess they have to be done.

We said our final school goodbyes – which took half an hour – and went to ‘coffee girl’s’ coffee shop and swigged back our tea – which was lovely, she had added some secret ingredient X that she wouldn’t tells us, but it certainly made a difference to the taste – so, we finished as quickly as was polite so we could leave her and Steve alone. It turned out Steve changed his plans so he could spend more time with her – young love is so sweet – and a little thoughtless.

As we walked back I realised I had forgotten the ladder. All week we had been using a long wooden ladder we had borrowed from the village. It was waiting by the wall for me like an accusation. The only problem with the ladder is that it was heavy. Stupidly heavy and I wasn’t looking forward to dragging it up the hill to the village, particularly up a set of steps that leads into the village. A set of steep stone stairs I had begun to have a deep dislike of – I think they hated me too as I was always knackered when I got to the top and I could swear I heard them laughing every time I climbed them. As luck would have it one of the village boys was still at the school and offered to help me – i could have kissed him. Nepal is full of examples of these little kindnesses. We could certainly learn something from them in England.

We had done most of our packing last night – actually, we had randomly stuffed our belongings into our backpacks as we expected to leave at two. We, in fact, sat around until three – Nepali time at play.

There is nothing worse than sitting around waiting to leave. The family were most sad we were leaving – particularly Patti as she and Camilla have formed a real friendship – and when the taxi finally arrived we were treated to tears, hugs, hard boiled eggs and a blessing. It seems it’s a Nepal tradition to give a departing guest a hard boiled egg and press a deep red mashed vegetable into their forehead. I have no idea what the vegetable is but it stains the skin purple red in a thumb sized spot on the forehead. Patti had wanted one of these since we got here – there are plenty of holy men on the streets of Kathmandu who will give you one for a few rupees but Patti wanted a real one. Well. She got her wish.