It has been a while...

I would like to claim that the reason I've not written anything for AGES is that China blocked the blog. It did. But, there was a very widespread website that let you bypass it. The real reason is a combination of laziness and a lack of time. I can't even remember what has happened since I last blogged so I I'll just do a run-down of some movements and hope that it'll jog my memory.

I left Phnom Penh way back in the end of April and I crossed the border through to Thailand from Battambang. It was quite an exciting border crossing because between the two countries were hoards of casinos, and so loads of people trying to get in and out. Whilst waiting to enter Thailand, a group of twenty or so Cambodians spent an hour pacing the crowds and trying to queue-hop at various points. It was really weird because they would slide in-front of someone really slyly, looking in the other direction as if they had only accidentally ended up in the queue, but because they were a big group and they were pacing it was completely obvious. I had the same guy try three times to sneak-in in front of me.

I bused it to Bangkok and then straight on a bus to Northern Laos - my feet barely touched Thailand soil. After crossing into Laos, I went straight to Vang Vieng. I don't remember how long it took but I know that it was long. When I finally made it to a hotel I napped for hours. I'll guess three days.

Side-saddling

I finally mastered how to ride a motor bike side-saddle! I nearly fell off the first time but by the second time (well, probably the sixth time) I had it! No more will I lose my dignity whilst riding a motorbike in a skirt!

Rash Buddies

I forgot to mention that in Siem Reap, both Chris and I managed to get bitten all over our arms by, we think, fleas, whilst sitting on some wicker chairs in our hostel. Seeing as both of us had the ailment, we were able to complain profusely by constantly asking each other how we were doing. Sweating, which seemed to happen a lot, irritated them so we were able to get a lot of attention and sympathy for them. Brilliant. I've decided that mine were originally worse, but they cleared up quicker because I visited a pharmasicst who, after trying to sell me suncream and moisturiser, provided me with some kind of steroid cream that worked a treat. We have some beautiful photos of them.

Volunteering at SSF

SSF is an organisation to protect high-risk girls from being trafficked.

The children were beautiful. I fell in love with a thirteen year old girl called Tha. When I was writing reports, she'd sit next to me and pretend to type too. They taught me how to make banana cakes (badly) and how to dance to Cambodian hip-hop. I taught them how to make roses out of tissue and how to play snap. I can't pinpoint any words in english to describe Cambodia. It is something like impacting or hard-going, but those words don't really get it. I keep on coming back to the spanish. Cambodia is muy fuerte.

I was ill again whilst volunteering. Felt very sorry for myself. Although, back in Thailand I weighed myself on some free scales in a pharmacists. It was apparent that I've seriously been enjoying the culinary delights here. At least not eating for a week may have had one benefit.

Phnom Penh

When I finally managed to leave the hotel, I did actually visit some of Phnom Penh. Hannah and Chris departed ways with us on friday, so on thursday night we went to a roller disco. Yes, a roller disco. Filled with skilled teenage bladers, it was a hoot. Although, I was completely useless, and everyone's feet killed after a few minutes.

Amy left for Vietnam on friday as well, so I used the day to cath up on the sights that I had missed out on whilst bed-ridden. I say sights, but I don't think it is really an appropriate term for visiting a monument filled with hundreds of skulls and an ex-genocide prison. But there we are.

In the evening I headed off to Kampong Speu to volunteer. It chucked it down for an hour, causing floods all over Phnom Penh. The usual 1 hour drive took us 6 hours!

ill ill ill

We arrived in Phom Penh on Monday. We had been out for cocktails the night before for Chris's birthday, and had got the 7.30 bus out of Siem Reap. I was feeling a bit dodgy, but decided it was alcohol mixed with lack of sleep. By around 6 that evening, I thought it was something more, and at around 2 in the morning, I knew it was more. After being in the toilet for a good while (there's no need to relish details here), somewhere between the severe pain and the heat of the windowless bathroom, my eyes blacked out. I fumbled my way back to the bedroom (the bathroom was a shared bathroom, a few metres away from our bedroom), making shakey toddler steps, clinging to the wall. I managed to make it back to our door, and inside and stood there for a minute or so clutching the door-frame, not wanting to lie down but having no idea how to reach my bed or how to negotiate our strewn about luggage. Amy was woken by: "Amy, could you help me back to bed please. I can't see."

According to Amy, I looked blind. She led me to the bed and I promptly smacked my head against the wall as I had no idea which part of the bed she had plonked me down on. I lay down, legs shaking, hands numb, and unable to see. This was when I decided it was more than a hangover.

I had to stay in bed for two whole rubbish days. My biggest activity was walking downstairs to get water. Even this was a mission. Although Hannah lent me her ipod with her audiobooks of Poirot to pass the time. Unfortunately, I found out a few days later that I managed to pick the one story that was incomplete! I don't know who done it.

Things really are slipping

For the last week we've been travelling with a couple, Hannah and Chris. We met as we arrived on Don Det in Laos and literally have not been able to shake them off since. Literally, we've had a few miniscule hours apart! It is also quite funny because in Don Det our huts were next door to each other, in Ban Lung in eastern Cambodia, we shared a room, and in Siem Reap our Dorm matresses were all squashed together, making essentially one giant bed. I think they fancy us.

Anyway, we were walking through one of the temples and I noticed that my top was on inside out. When you get up at 4 am and fumble to get dressed quitely whilst not waking anyone else up, this happens. So I said allowed, "Oh my top's on inside out".
Chris, who I've known for only six days, was stood a little further away, saw a small kerfuffle, heard something about being inside out and promptly said something which I never thought someone who I'd known for that length of time say to me: "Oh Emma, you've not got your knickers back to front again have you?"

Again. I think I'm becoming a spanner.

New level of being conned

So, we were conned in India and with various Tuk Tuk and Taxi drivers along the way, but we havent had a biggie in a while. This one is quite impressive. We managed to get conned in Bangkok into paying more than twice the price for our Chinese visas, within the embassy. We made the two hour round trip to the embassy on two occasions and ended up paying more than people who go through travel agents. The guy on the front desk is apparently running his own little business. Lesson learnt.

Angkor Wat

Siem Riep was a giggle. Aside from the night market, where I made more ridiculous purchases for my completely imaginary, seems further away every day, house, getting very drunk for Chris's birthday, and having a dormitory which was essentially a wicker shed outside, there was Ankor Wat. Amazing. I didn't really think that temples like that still existed. I'll put some photos up because they can describe it better than I can. We got up at four, to see the sunrise, and then had over ten hours of hardcore templing. We were all completely templed out by the end. We also had quite possibly the best nap ever. At about 10 O'clock we were all seriously dipping, having been on the go for about 6 hours. On top of a beautiful, high temple, Hannah, Amy and I found some good rocks to nestle down in for an hour. Waking up to the view and the temple around us completely beats all other napping places, including the library, lecture theatres, embassies, Tax offices, mountainsides, beaches and Seven Eleven. It takes the prize.


Chris has the photo of us napping

Cambodia

We first went to the north eastern part of Cambodia and quickly learned a few fun things through a small amount of trial and error:

Never wee in bushes away from the road - the land is landmines R'us. Oops. I luckily still have all my limbs in tact.

The word for breakfast, which sounds something like 'I have paper' and so, consequently was the only word we remembered. That and 'Ma', which, by no stretch of the imagination, means Mother.

Always be careful when ordering eggs. It is very possible that you will be getting a half grown baby duck embryo inside. Mine just had feathers, but Amy's very definitely had a beak. It was pretty disgusting, though not to be wasteful, Hannah and i still ate some of the yolk.

When they advertise a lake as a 'Volcanic Crater Lake' this does not mean that you will see a crater filled with water, possibly some steam and feel like you're on the fringes of one of James Bond's arch nemesis's secret layer, but an old dorment volcano that, let's be honest, is now just a lake on a mountain.


That the people here are possibly the smiliest in the world.

That the people are possibly the friendliest in the world. Whilst waiting for the internet one night, I was invited to join in in a card game for about 2 hours with the staff, where I was given copious amounts of free beer.

Southern Laos

Besides a few problems getting a bus out of Bangkok, due to it being Thai new year, we headed to the Laos border last friday, and almost straight down to the Four Thousand Islands on the Mekong River (we had a short stop in the town of Pakse overnight because we had a few minor ATM issues - the electricity was out). The Islands were beautiful and very chilled. We ended up on Don Det and promptly rented bikes. Lots of cycling later (oh Sevici how I miss thee) and we'd seen some waterfalls, some dolphins, lots of beautiful scenery, all topped off by a delicious picnic - to the benefit of us, the french brought baguettes to Laos. No trains or industry, but baguettes, yes. We also made time for hiring a rubber ring and, beer in hand, having a very casual, sunset float down the Mekong. Bloomin lovely.

Leaving Thailand

Somewhere between diving, excessive walking and a massive hangover, I managed to hurt my foot. It was really sore meaning that I could only do walking stints in small doses and spent most of time on the buses in Bangkok. There were a few demonstrations going on at the time, which meant traffic jams. Really really long traffic jams. My favourite being, one Monday morning, when I got ever so slightly lost by getting the wrong bus, then I got soaked in a storm, followed by getting on the actual bus I wanted, which preceded to get stuck in traffic for three hours (I had no idea where I was so I couldn't get off!) The best bit about this, however, was the aircon on the bus, that I had had to pay extra for, for the luxury of it. Three hours on an airconditioned bus when you are sopping wet is a cold experience. I spent most of my time hugging the window in a desperate attempt to extract some warmth from the outside. Freezing.

The next few days in Bangkok were spent pottering around on my bad foot, getting more buses that got stuck in jams. Though, I still managed to eventually work my way around the city, the temples, the floating market nearby (a market on boats on a river) and do another cooking course (thank you mother and father for another part of my 21st birthday present). I made a very funky five course meal, including Thai curry. Delicious. Also, not to boast, but I now know how to make coconut milk, cream and how to grate without a grater (a skill which I wish I'd known when I lived with the boys in Cardiff - the house with no cooking tools). It also persuaded me into buying my most ridiculous purchase yet - a wicker rice steamer. It seemed essential at the time.

I've added photos to new blogs and old - how organized!

Erawan Falls

I'll write this later... After careful consideration, and a dash of laziness, I've decided that the pictures speak for themselves.

Bridge Over the River Kwai

We made it up to Bangkok and prompltly went up to Kanchanaburi for the night, where the Bridge over the River Kwai is. We stocked up on some Death Bridge knowledge in one of the museums before heading over to actually see it, so that we could have some appreciation of the scale of what went on. It was quite impressive but at the same time it was a bit weird. I didn't like the tourism around it. There were hundreds of shops and stalls where you were able to buy souvenirs. Being able to buy a replica of something which, in reality, caused the deaths of thousands of people seems a bit wrong. It's like people who want to buy a bit of china that was used on Titanic. Although, completely hypocritically, I was very snappy happy and casually walking down it, even drinking from a coconut as I went.

Standards are Slipping

It becomes apparent that your standards are slipping when phrases such as these arise:

"You know it's a good hotel when there's toilet paper"

(In a restaurant)
"That waitress kicked that rat a bit violently"

"Was the shower good?"
"Yeah, really good"
"Oh cool, does it have hot water?
"Err, no"

(After leaving a restroom)
"Do the toilets have toilet paper?"
"I don't know. I didn't look."

(On a 12 hour train journey from the bottom of Thailand to Surat Thani)
"At least it's not a long trip."

(After walking through a flood to get to our hotel and most of it is still soaked in water)
"It's quite nice".

Water Incidents

We've been having water incidents. Well, Amy was. Now there was the camera, in all it's sea-water falling over, completely broken form. Then, or rather before, we had accommodation that was super cheap because it didn't have any electricity or water, until we got back from dinner to find that, whilst the water was off, the tap was left on, and so when the water came back on we had a mini flood on our hands. Well, Amy did, as it seemed to be just her stuff. But my turn came eventually. Yesterday there was such a downpour on our walk to the ferry that everything of mine (I lost my poncho to a bus luggage storage area and I don't have a water cover and Amy does) was soaked through. The clothes, the knickers, some phrasebooks, me. And also some slightly valuable items such as my license, yellow fever certificate, and passport. I'm beginning to think that they are going to stop accepting it.

Burning

Apparently 80p factor 30 suncream is not a good investment or a bargain. You pay in burnage.

Rabies

Walking down the street in Koh Phangan, heading for some grub, Amy and I were casually discussing the shape of the moon (because that evening we were going to a half moon party and I was impressed at how half moony it really was). From about 200 metres away, completely unprovoked, two giant (if I'm honest normal sized) dogs came pelting for us, teeth bared, doing the whole vicious barking and growling thing. We ran. They went for me. I did this amazing (yes, I will boast about it) scream - somewhere between a yell, shout and terror at them and flailed my legs, completely missing them but making myself fall over. Their teeth were about an inch from my leg. I'm so lucky that the scream scared them as I was on my back and a prime target. We ran for about a kilometer before slowing down, and decided to hail a friendly man on a motorbike to take us back in-case it happened again.

The half moon party was good. Although apparently a boy said that I must be a lesbian because I was refusing to kiss anyone. Charming boy. I also ended up back in the wrong beach hut as I was insistent when a little tipsy that my friend was in my hut. The next morning when he showed me his luggage he won the argument.

Amy's Camera Incident

I would just like to point out that in India, due to us being girls alone, it being expensive and the country being essentially dry, we didn't drink. This may explain why a few whiskey cocktails with dinner (the waitress couldn't find our bill until she identified it with 'oh, the one with all the whiskey') had us a bit giddy. Followed by a small live music act and 2-4-1 daiquiris, and bumping into some friends who got us on the buckets. Having a bit of a boogie, I got a bit excited when 'Rage Against the Machine' came on. My excuse being that I hadn't heard the song since Cardiff and Fog made me like it. So excited in fact that I skidded backwards and fell over. Whilst dancing in the sea. Whilst holding Amy's camera. Whilst holding Amy's camera that was switched on because I wanted to commemorate the moment. I owe Amy a new camera.

Thailand - Koh Tao

Koh Tao was a bit of a giggle. I did my PADI there, and even though it was more expensive than I had previously thought (as the exchange rate has gone so bad) it was still very worthwhile. Because we wanted to go to the half moon party on the other Island I asked to do it in two and a bit days, instead of four, which ended up being completely to my advantage as I got a one on one course for the same price. Less time doing silly safety exercises and more time looking at fishies. Woohoo! We also got some very plush free accommodation with it that completely beat Seven Eleven's doorstep and the Hotel in Surat Thani where we slept in the hallway for free because it was full. Although doing it so quickly meant that it was quite intense and I hadn't really bargained on 7.30 starts and afternoons doing 3 hours of Nitrogen physics when we decided to have a few Thai Coladas. Though because I'm brilliant and extremely clever I still managed to get 100 percent in my theory and not kill myself whilst setting up my tank drunk.

The Rest of our Time in Malaysia

We ended up staying in KL for AGES because we were sorting out some extended Thai Visas, which it turns out we don't need anymore. Oh well, our Thai visas are prettier than other people's. We headed up to the Cameron Highlands, where I got to expand my knowledge of Tea, eat some Tea and scones (finally), not go strawberry picking because it was out of season, have a little walk through the tea plantations, which having got lost, ended up being having a little trek through the tea plantations, grazing my leg (tea plants are sturdy and unforgiving when you fall on them), to having to a hitch a ride back to the village when we found that 2 hours of trekking had brought us within 100 meters of where we started. During all of this it was also chucking it down with rain. I finally got to use my poncho!

We later slipped and slided it to the night bus to the Perhentian Islands and had our best sleeping destination as of yet. Four hours camped outside of Seven Eleven - I think this is what homeless people do. I don't need to say much about the Perhentian Islands other than the fact that they were mind-boggingly beautiful. Every photo is a postcard. Maggie and Caren had recommended a place to us and when we arrived a picture of Maggie was at reception holding a baracuda. This began four days of 'maggie, maggie, maggie' smiles and 'friend, friend, friend'. Hilarious. It also meant we got special treatment and they whizzed us off to some very cool snorkeling sights. And on our last day they drove us half way to the border and biked us to a nearby restaurant so that they could stock us up with all of the food that we had to try before leaving Malaysia. We also met a very cool dutch guy called Bram, which is apparently a very common name in Holland, but I just think is amazing. Although, I'm know trying to find him on facebook and I was so excited about his name that I've forgotten his actual surname and keep wanting to write Bram Stoker. Oh well.

We left Malysia on the 29th of March.

Kuala Lumpur

New country and new excitements! We toodled it down on an AirAsia flight down to Malaysia to meet up with Maggie and Caren. It was just too brilliant for words. In a nutshell, there was four of us in a little room (an impressive mess), Gin, a birthday cake and candle, a really big climb of a rooftop wall, eggs for breakfast, an outdoor swimming pool, lots of walking, tasty foodstuffs, a bit of shopping, several giggles, and a lovely spoon. What a hoot. I feel very sad that they have gone.

End of India

The end of India was grand. We dashed it around all the sights and treated ourselves to an ice cream on the beach (with our wages). However, the belief that we had been quite glamorous in being extras in a Bollywood film was dashed quite quickly when we went to see a different Bollywood film at the cinema. Apparently you don't have to be very pretty or glamorous to get picked up for these things :(

Glamorous Times

We had been in Mumbai about thirty seconds (I'm discounting the 2 hour sleep we had in the train station. Ladies' waiting rooms - we love you) when I realised that I liked Mumbai, and about five minutes when I realised that I loved it. The like after thirty seconds was because it was so clean. After a lot of dirt, it was exciting to things like road sweepers and a scattering of public bins. I could see road signs everywhere, and greenery. Lots of greenery. The love after five minutes was because as soon as we pitched up at our hostel we were touted to go and be extras at a Bollywood Movie. Before we had time to ask to see a business card and actually check these people were genuine (this was a mild worry ten minutes later), we quickly checked in, showered (we had been on trains for two days)and we were in the back of their AC car dashing along to the 'set'. It was ace.

First we were presented with costumes. There were some corkers. Think tacky eighties, rubbish disco-wear, add a few more sequins and clashing colours and that was it. Amy did quite well, instantly being presented with a hoe-down denim number but mine were relatively normal. That is until the final costume change. Costume change sounds so glamorous. Even more glamorous when I say we had three. I even got my hair done. I probably have to mention, however, that it looked no different in the before and after shots, and I didn't feel at all glamorous as I'd made the mis-calculation of not wearing any make-up (well, I thought that we were all but film stars and these kind of things would be taken care of for us)and had to beg one of the dancers for a 'smidge of mascara'.

Anyway, it was a disco night scene with a full on Bollywood sing-a-long and dance. We essentially had to dance and stop, and dance and stop, and dance and stop for 8 hours. Brilliant. This, however, was not the exciting bit. At about 6 o'clock the 'shoot' was over and people prepared to go back home. A select few though were chosen to stay back and film a night-scene. They offered us double the pay and the enticement of a free dinner and we said 'bring forth the next costume change'. It was at this point we started asking a few questions about the film like "what's it about?" and "where's it set?". It turned out that it was set in Chicago, in winter, and the next scene would be a nightclub queue. We were in Mumbai. It was about 35 degrees. We got handed winter coats, gloves, scarves and hats. Act cold they said. Oh dear. I can't think of many times in my life when I've sweated more. A man had to come around ever take and dab our faces with a tissue to get rid of the trickling sweat. However, it at least was quite easy to act cold as we were all so desperate to get inside the club, like you do when it's freezing. Except on this occasion we wanted the air con, rather than the heater. One poor boy was forced to wear a balaclava.

It was a super fun day. The best of it being that we got free food - lunch and dinner, and we got payed. Even with the 'double pay' it still only worked out as 12 hours for 12 pounds, but it really did seem like a fortune at the time.

Holi Day

After asking "So when is Holi Day?" to almost everyone we met in our entire time in India and always getting different and vaguer answers, the festival finally arrived. It started with a little bus trip to a local market, spotting a couple of people with colours sparsely sprinkled on a few parts of their bodies. When we arrived, however, we were faced with a full on colour fight. About twenty men were all heavily involved in splattering themselves in as many colours as possible. All of them clutched several bags of powdered dye. Our error was stopping, watching and, I think essentially, photographing. We were quickly targets. It started with a small, green smear each on the face (this is the part of the body they always went for. This then quickly became a beacon that we were fair game and an hour later we had been attacked around ten times and had most of the colours available displayed on our skin. It was hilarious. We then got a bus to another market, Anjuna. In Anjuna people were a little more professional about the whole affair. It wasn't just smearing dye on your face it was pre-mixing the dye with water and launching it with bottles and water guns. We walked around 100 yards from the bus stop to the market, it took about an hour, and we literally didn't have a space left on our clothes that hadn't been coloured. It got so bad that in the end we picked up two five year old girls to help run the 'gauntlet' sections of the road. There was colour everywhere. On people, the houses, the roads, the stalls and the cows. It was brilliant.

Excitement and Disappointment

We found a thin cotton sleeping bag that was compact, lightweight and suitable for hot climates, i.e the current climate that we are in, in a shop in Udaipur. Basically a sewed up sheet :)

We had no money when we saw it and forgot to go back and get it :(

Goa

We are in the South, in Goa, and there's not much to report. Other than the fact that I love it here. I've been itching to head to the South of India since the beginning of our trip. It is so much more relaxed and has a completely different vibe. When we arrived Amy started to feel unwell on the bus and sat down amongst everyone who was stood up. She instantly had elderly women offering up their seats for her, stroking her hand and rubbing Tiger Balm on her forehead. Everything just seems more relaxed and a lot more friendly.

We've set-up camp in Panaji - mainly because our hotel manager keeps suggesting things for us to do, so we keep booking more nights here. Last night he suggested we went to see Slumdog Millionaire, seeing as everyone in India is crazy about it, at the cinema. It was great. We even splurged on popcorn (we opted for caramel over the cheese variety). I'll admit that we nearly didn't go because we turned up ten minutes late and I am a manic perfectionist and I can't stand to watch a film when I've missed the beginning, but Amy prevailed. I did enjoy it, but I will be thinking about those ten minutes and when I'll get my opportunity to see them for probably the entire trip. Today we bussed it to a Spice plantation, which was a bit of a let down and ended up being more of an expensive spiced up meal, though we ate so much (free for all buffets are my favourite) we won't be needing any dinner. And tomorrow we are trying out a ferry to some wildlife Island thing. And the day after that is already covered by another town nearby, and the best flea market in Goa. It's so nice to relax a little. Now we just need to hope the manager runs out of activities for us so we can finally make it to a beach.

Afternoon Tea

Udaipur felt like something out of 'Passage to India'. This is a slightly bizzare thing to say, seeing as I've not read it, but I'm assuming it is filled with stereotypical 'British India'. We had done all of the tourist things. We even randomly bumped into the driver we had from Delhi and he bundled us into the back of his car, next to his confused tourists, and took us to some places around the city that our penny-pinching wallets wouln't have allowed us to get to otherwise. The setting of Octopussy was going well. It nearly, however, became amazing. After visiting the lavish palace we spied a restaurant on the front of the lake that oozed rich 'British India'. We casually said that it was pretty then continued walking. Neither of us are sure who spotted it first, but both of us were as equally gripped. Afternoon Tea This Way. Afternoon Tea? As in scones, jam and clotted bloomin cream? Afternoon Tea in a posh restaurant, on the side of the Lake in a complete setting that yelled for a posh frock and a giant hat. We had to have it. Unfortunately, the Afternoon Tea was not at the original restaurant that we had spied. This meant that we spent about an hour hunting for the right one, the excitement, and price that we were willing to pay for it, building. We ended up sneaking into several posh hotels that clearly didn't want us to be there in our quest for confectionary. In the end, disappointment loomed as we found the correct location, only to be faced with a posh, yet quite dark and dingy room. This was not the 1920s Poirot-fuelled image that we had had in mind. We settled for stealing toilet roll from the posh toilets.

21st Birthday Present

My parents aren't yet aware, but I have just spent the first ten pounds of my 21st Birthday Present. This is experiences and skills. Travelling is not an experience that I'm allowed to count and spend the money on as it was never something I wasn't going to do. However, going to a cookery lesson does count. We splurged a tenner in Udaipur on a cookery lesson to learn how to make exciting things such as chai, chapati, paneer and, of course, curry. It was like something out of Blue Peter - with all the ingredients prepared earlier. We even got a little recipe booklet. We loved it so much that we are debating another in the South of India. Long gone are my days of 'throw every spice that I can get my hands on in'. I think I might actually now be able to cook a curry!

I Love Trains

I literally love train travel. And my reasons are ten fold:

1. In every train station there is a Ladies' waiting room where we tend to set up camp before and after our trip. This means that we can sleep before and after the journey, recharge our phones, wash (a smidgen), and always always always listen to a fight kick off between some of the women. This is usually the women in charge on a power trip. They all get very into it. This is very interesting to watch though a tad annoying when it's at 3 am and you really just want to sleep. In Jodhpur we slept in the train station about four times-through being back and forth to Jaisalmer. By the end, the cleaning boy waved to us when we entered the station, and we had managed to fashion two small tables into a pretty impressive bunk-bed. The Ladies' waiting rooms have saved us from being whisked off bleary-eyed to expensive, rubbish hotels by wide-awake touts. They mean we almost get a full night's sleep on a night train because we can top-up at them. And we sometimes (ladies don't like to talk much to us) meet people. They are great.

2. There is always someone in our seats and there is always about ten people around us trying to sort out where we should be, and where they should be.

3. Chai, chai, chai...The array of foods and drinks that run up and down the train every five seconds. We started off hating the call of 'chai, chai, chai' that pumped out constantly through the night as we tried to sleep, but now I find it quite lulling. I love all of the foods that are available and the fact that, if you miss one vendor, another will be along in literally five seconds.

4. They fixed my bag. I made a friend on the train who told me that the call of 'chain, chain, chain' would fix the zip on my bag. I was dubious. So, the next time I heard it, I grappled for his attention and uselessly pointed at my zip thinking he would just laugh at me. I'll point out that the friend was long gone so I had no authentic Indian support and just a niggling feeling that he was having me on. The 'chain, chain, chain' boy grabbed my bag, whisked off the zipper, fiddled for about a minute deciding which of his collection would be appropriate, and then whipped the new zipper on, giving it a few clip, clip, clips, and he was done. Amazing. It works better than new.

5. The on/off syndrome. The trains stop constantly, either at stations or at random patches of grass. This apparently is the cue for everybody to jump off the train, and then when it starts moving, hop back on. Whether it be a bus or a train, no-one can sit still. A pause at traffic lights is a sufficent reason to be off.

6. The pack lunches people bring on the trains. I love watching the sheer quantity and variety of food that people unpack at dinner time.

7. There are always a handful of euch creatures.

8. When we aren't sleeping, the scenery is beautiful.

9. They are a 'free' night's accommodation.

10. We always make at least one friend per journey. My last one was en route to Goa. He slept next to me on the upper berths that were separated only by some thin metal wiring. It almost felt like we were in bed together. I thought he was a starer (an Indian man who will ask about your marriage situation and whether he can kiss you). He turned out to be lovely.

Lying

It is a little worrying how much the lying is making us lie. I really like India but the tourist industry is horrible. I thought it would just be hassley, but it beyond that. Everyone lies. So many people are involved in commission that you can't trust anyone's opinion about any hotel, shop or mode of transport. If they tell you your hotel has burnt down, it probably hasn't. If they tell you it's a dodgy hotel, it probably isn't. If you ask directions for one hotel, you'll probably be given directions to somewhere else. If you try and find the Government Tourist office, you probably never will. Apparently they all are. If they tell you that you can't sit and watch the funerals at the burning ghats from the stairs of the ghats, but you will have to climb a small tower to be away from the family, it's just a ploy to charge you for walking up the tower. If they tell you that the only way to get somewhere is by taxi, it's definitely not. If they tell you that there are no government buses, just private ones, it's a lie. And it's never usually a 'good price'. I can't even remember the lies that we've been told. Fortunately, the only one we have fallen for was in Delhi. I don't think I've mentioned it before, because I had some serious sense of humour failure about it. This lie involved four different people, all seemingly unrelated, but now we realise connected, telling us the same things until you believe them. One of them was dressed up and pretended to work in the station, the second pretended to bump into us then mentioned he worked at the station (he had a fake name badge and everything), the third was the rickshaw driver, and the fourth was at the official 'Government Tourist Office'. The events were thus:

We headed to the station to find a train ticket out of Delhi. We were asked for our tickets, and then told that foreigners could not buy tickets from the train station and had to get them from the Government tourist office. Have you a lonely planet? This is the office on the map (the correct one) - I'll get you a rickshaw. No thanks. I swear there is something dodgy with that-let's go find somewhere to sit and eat and read the Lonely Planet. So we walked to find somewhere. Another man - about 5 mins from the station - struck up a conversation with us and casually mentioned he worked at the train station. So we ask him how we buy tickets. He reiterates what the man at the train station said. Both lyin and both doing it brilliantly. The technique is such that they start to point out the way to go, then say 'oh hang on I'll show you', then make a big show of helping you out but they really have to be somewhere else, then a big show of bargaining the rickshaw price (who will have later received a commission) and use the Lonely Planet to show you the right Tourist Office and the drivers the wrong one. They also rush you away from you sitting down and figuring it all out because every single one of them independently say that it is Holy Day tomorrow and no tickets will be on sale. Armed with the prior, and true, knowledge that you do need to book ahead, we then get convinced that there are no spaces on trains out of Delhi to the North for 6 days, because we are being shown the real train-booking website but it is failing to mention the held back tickets for the Tourist Quota. Three hours later, deprived of food, in a hot stuffy room we are convinced that we can't get out of Delhi by train for a week. The pressure heightens when we remember that we've already lost a week to the snow at Heathrow, and the belief that it's Holy Day the next day, meaning the Train Station and that Office would be shut. Defeated and exhausted, we get a six day tour of Rajhastan. I wanted and did cry. Paying money for something that you don't even want, but only buy because you are backed up into a corner. The Holy Day con. Four separate, apparently unconnected, people telling us that it was Holy Day made us believe it, and made us part with money. Needless to say, it wasn't Holy Day. Seven months of ridiculous saving, only to have some lied and whisked away from you because you are naive and they really know what they are doing. We had been in so many 'Government Tourist Offices' before then and left successfully, saying we'd think about it and so later find out it was a con. But the pressure of the Holy Day got us.

So, now we lie too:

This is our second trip to India (as we did go to Nepal briefly this is technically true). We are sisters. I oscillate between having a boyfriend and being married. Both of our careers are as waitresses. Every place we turn up to we claim to 'have a reservation' to dodge hotel touts. We always know where we are going, even when holding a map. We lie about our destinations when we get into autorickshaws, asking for a monument nearby rather than a tourist office or a hotel so that we don't get carted off to the wrong place. We claim that we've seen it for half that price elsewhere. We have been meeting imaginary friends for dinner, at hotels, at monuments literally all over India. In Jaisalmer we said we were only there for the one night to visit some friends we hadn't seen in ages so we wouldn't be interested in a Camel Safari. This enabled us to be carted off to a hotel at a discount price so that they could spend the next morning trying to sell us their Camel Safari, and then give us a perfectly good reason to rebuff their advances, check out the next day before they put their prices up and move on to the next discount hotel. And then there is the biggie. The lie so engrained that I've almost started to believe it. The lie that we began in Delhi, completelty simultaenously, without any need to confer, when we realised the true extent of the lying-money-grabbing tourist industry. We are in India for 6 weeks and then we go straight home. The lie that we had to adopt to stop touts eyeing us up for our entire 8 month fortune.

I don't like the lying. The Delhi incident was horrible and caused Amy and I to have our only and first argument. It also makes it more difficult to enjoy India. We spend so long ploughing and swiping away the lies that we don't get to see what it is really like. We go to the South in a few days and maybe stay with a couple we met at a train station. I'm hoping the lies might stay at bay long enough for us to catch a glimpse of the actual Indian culture.

Jaisalmer

We got to Jaisalmer a few days ago and hop-skipped it onto a tourist camel safari. Everyone here tries to get you to do a camel safari-luring you with cheap accomodation and so on. As ever, we found out later that we payed more than some people, but less than others and blah blah blah - same old story. We had about three hours on a camel - Amy describes it as uncomfortable but I would describe as rhythmic. We camped. Had a fire, food, watched the sunset, watched the sunrise and somewhere inbetween slept under the stars in the desert. This might well be my favourite thing so far. But then I've always been a bit of a lover of camping. We could see more stars than even in North Wales. It was bootiful. I even managed to remember my gorillapod thing this time and it had it's first real outing as a useful thing to have brought. For techno phobes-a gorrillapod is a tripod that clings and bends to any material, making it perfect for taking photos in rocky, sandy, fenced locations. It's first outing should have been when we climbed Sarangkot to see the Himalayas, but I was so blearly from the 5 o'clock start that I, like a numnuts, forgot it. As an aside, I don't think I've mentioned that. That was also beautiful, but harder work on the thighs, it involved less sleep and a dog unofficially named 'Banana Lassi' that guided us the entire way. Anyway, ten minutes of faffing and a near miss of the actual sunrise and the gorrillapod came up trumps with some joint, desert, sunrise photos - about ten of which I might erase.

Revenge of the Jam

So we finish packing up our room in Jaisalmer, ready to head off to another hotel that will take us on our Camel Safari. All bagged up and I spy the blue squelchy bag that encases The Jam on the side. I'll say now that I didn't have any room. The reality being that I couldn't bear the effort of hoisting my bag down, un-doing the strap and wrestling with the jammy mess until it was roughly wedged against my luggage and lovingly spreading it's stickiness amongst my clothes. I reasoned. There is only a smidgen left; we haven't got any bread anyway; I think I hate Jam. It got left in the room. My punishment came swiftly. In the blue bag with the Jam was my new favourite toy. The camping cutlery set that Amy got for me. The handy, whack-them-out-whenever cutlery set that gave me a swell of smugness as oggling onlookers could only wander at the genius of having a knife, fork and spoon camping set that made eating on trains a culinary delight. I am going to be nice to Jam from now on. I am afraid it might take my camping plate next.

Further proof that the sleeping bag is amazing

Even when it is too hot for a sleeping bag, it contiunes to add to my sleeping delight by making a sumptiously comfy pillow. I think when I get back I might just start carrying a sleeping bag around with me wherever I go. To the shop, to the cinema, to work (what work?). I bet I'd start discovering even more uses for the sleeping bag. Maybe I should just quit this travelling malarkey now and start my book, inspired as I am: 102 (I would choose 102 because I think 101 is overused in novel titles) uses for the sleeping bag. It's literary gold. I really think my father should stop worrying that I'll never find a career. I am going to be a millionaire.

Funny Children Adventures

In Varanasi we were sitting watching the world go by when a group of children cam to talk to us. After lots of talking about our sunglasses and which country we were from they started talking about how short our hair was. A few minutes later, two of them started to discuss my hair quite intensely. They were looking, discussing, then laughing. Thinking of how many times people have laughed at us for being white, I wrongly assumed that they were bedazzled by any stray blonde hairs that I had. A few seconds later and they had delved in and were scratching around as if I had nits. By now I was feeling a little uneasy. More laughing. Erm? One of them plucked. Ouch. I'd say about a ten year old girl was stood in front of me, laughing and displaying to me one beautifully grey strand of hair. So I travel half-way around the world and people are still laughing at me for going grey this early in life. The two children then continued to laugh and pull grey hairs out of my head and brandish them in front of me, as if I needed to be reminded that there really are that many on my head.

All about the Jam

I've been feeling a bit rough lately and I'm inclined to blame the Jam. I'm not ill. I just feel a bit hot and weak all of the time - like I did when I first went to Seville. However, instead of blaming it on the heat, the lack of sleep, or the constant moving about, I am blaming it on the Jam. When we are on the move, our diet consists of bread and Jam. But not just any bread, crumbly-goes-all-over-you and has-probably-been-out-of-date-for-a-while bread. We eat this because it is the only thing that we can find that is easily transportable and can do breakfast, lunch, dinner and then breakfast, lunch, and dinner again. It is the only thing that is spreadable and the keyword: cheap. I'm staring to hate Jam. We thought we'd go a bit wild by changing our jar of 'Mixed Fruits Jam' to 'Pineapple Jam', but to no avail. It's still slowly sucking out my will to live. Even the brief fling with rolls yesterday didn't help. I need to find some philadelphia or some dairylea soon.

My new appreciation for the sleeping bag

I feel completely enlightened. The sleeping bag is actually amazing. When I think back to all of the bus/train/plane stations (plane stations are technically called airports, I grant you, but it didn't fit in with my forward slash transportation combination) that I have slept in, desperately trying to make a blanket out of a flimsy scarf, a pillow out of a bag and covering the remaining gaps with a fleece, I feel a prize fool. I have never traveled with a sleeping bag before and I can conclusively say that it is brilliant. I used to think that it was a bulky and unnecessary item. Oh, how my opinion has changed. I have a bed wherever and whenever. I've said a definitive goodbye to drafty shivers, so-long to cold marble floors and a smirky whatever to dirty benches. Train station sleeping has never been so bloody comfortable. We left Varanasi on Wednesday at 5.20 on a 24 hour train. This train accidentally became a 32 hour train, meaning that we didn't get to Jodhpur until 2 am. Thus another train station sleep was in order. I set up my sheet on the floor, lay my sleeping bag down, placed my donkey cushion next to it (one of those squidgy cushions that you get from the market that has also revolutionized my sleep) and stood back and admired. Instant bed. Truly brilliant. If only sleeping bags had some kind of rat repellent, they'd be perfect.

Back in India - Straight to Varanasi

A few days ago, I don't really remember when, we bounced along on a Nepali bus, a Nepali rickshaw, an Indian bus, and an Indian overnight train back into India, straight to Varanasi. The Holy City. We did a lot of wandering, a lot of sitting and a lot of watching. We took a night boat along the Ganges to watch the night-time ceremony. The boat-man sat next to me so that I could ask him a gazzilion questions about what was going on, why they do this and why they do that. I learnt about the ceremonies and the different offerings and then I asked questions about the things that had been bothering me. Basically I found out my answer to almost everything was: good luck. Why have those women had their head's shaved? For good luck. Why do some women have red on the sole's of their feet? For good luck. Why do they mate cows next to the river? For good luck. It's a strange place. Between all of the ceremonies, the offerings, the cremations, there were little oddities. The weighing of the wood and testing of the quality of the wood to decide how much to charge for the cremation. The taking of the jewellery from the ashes of the cremated bodies. The fishing with magnets for coins that people had thrown into the Ganges for good luck. The fact that, although it is one of the most polluted and toxic river in the world, people were everywhere drinking and bathing in it. And above all of it, above all of the spirituality, the offerings, the cleansing of sins and the funerals, there was kite flying and cricket. Cricket played between the Ghats and Kites flown above them. I'm writing this because we couldn't take many photos, so I thought I'd like to remember it a bit. We barely got hassled because people were too busy doing their own thing. I would just like to mention at this point also that I did get to row on the Ganges. That makes me cool.

A brief summary of interesting tit-bits

We saw a Bollywood film being filmed in Jaipur and a Kollywood film in Khatmandu.

Our cheapest meal yet was an Indian Thali (a set meal of two curries, rice and naans) for about 25 pence in a train station outside of Agra, but paid for dearly in fear pennies (fear for our bellies and my own personal fear for the vulnerability of my neck - thank you Fog) as we ate the entire meal being stared at and circled by two giant rats.

The best toilets so far were in the Observatory in Jaipur (a collection of giant sculptures and what-not to tell the time and read the stars) because they were not only very clean but had a deluxe shower head instead of a jug. The vote for the worst toilet is still out. The rat infested (same train station as the cheap Thali) ones could be peeping ahead.

Our best hotel has been Pokhara. Three pounds between us and it has the most amazing hot shower. Though luke warm when the electricity is down.

The best (it is so brilliant it truly has to get a second mention) saying: "Don't wurry chicken curry"

Our longest bit of travel: 43 hours

Longest time without changing underwear, showering, or brushing teeth: 50 hours

The longest time to travel two metres: 20 minutes. An Indian man insisted that we posed for photos with every single member of his family.

Amount of times we've been conned: 1

Amount of times that people have tried to con us: Thousands

Amount of people that have physically laughed out loud at how white we are: 2

We've been invited to one wedding, which we couldn't go to because we were in the middle of our 43 hour trip, couple with the fact we were invited after about a two minute conversation and added to by the fact we weren't sure whether the man on the train with a gun was friends was a part of the wedding party or not.

We have an invite to the house of a the first couple that we've met that seemed in love. They were extremely cute together and equal, despite the fact that they were niece and uncle. We're hopefully going to stay with them to learn how to make curry in Goa.

I've tried twice to pretend I know something about cricket to blend with the locals. I failed both times after about 5 seconds.

I think I've eaten Fog-friendly doughnuts, but I think the only way this could be confirmed is if he ate them.

We've risked a few fruit smoothies - bellies are both fine.

I like going to the toilet by candle-light ( a frequent occurence in Nepal). It makes the whole experience a lot more romantic. I'm not so keen on going to the toilet in the dark.

I think that Pokhara is a crazy mix of a beautiful landscape with a paphos-like touris town attached.

I think it will be a shock to go back to India.

From India to Nepal and back again

Follwing Delhi we went to Jaipur, then Pushkar, and Agra, and from Agra we did a mammoth 43 hour trip up to Khatmandu, which included about 15 hours of waiting in train and bus stations, 12 hours on a night train, 6 hours on a local bus and 12 hours on a night bus. Apparently taking a night bus in Nepal is the most dangerous thing you can do here and, after seeing the drops the next day and all of the burnt out buses along the sides of the road, I'm glad we couldn't see them at the time and we definitely won't be doing it again. Nepal is awesome, and just so relaxing in comparison to India. You're hassled but with about a tenth of the ferocity. Most of the people still want to talk to you to sell you something but we have managed to have some geniune conversations before or after the selling process. My personal favourite being with a Nepali man (who chatted to us pleasantly for about twenty minutes before trying to sell his services as a guide) in Khatmandu who taught us that the english needed to relax a little and we needed to follow his motto of: (this has to be said in a Nepali accent, preferably from a short Nepali man who is grinning inanely and wearing a silly hat) "Don't wurry chicken curry" and the slightly dodgier rhyming pattern of "Wurry not coco-nut". Brilliant. Nepal also has its benefits in that it has no urine smell. This has to be a bonus. Khatmandu was just so calming, and we actually stopped in some shops long enough to buy a couple of things. In Pokhara now and, although Amy claims that we've just been for a few walks, I've definitely decided that we've been trekking. I think that any walk in Nepal, especially one that involves walking boots should count as a trek. We've also decided to brave a few salads and fruits whilst it's available and looks cleaner than in India. This could be completely false but no illness has hit us yet. There is a paragliding competition going on here and, as we were watching, we were very quickly surrounded by ten or so children marvelling at my camera and Amy's videocamera. My camera now has about twelve photos of each child wearing my sunglasses and about thirty photos of their fought-over, finger-on-lenses photos of the paragliders. We are doing another trek, yes trek, tomorrow morning to see the himalayas (that definitely qualifies it as a trek) and then getting the morning bus back to India. Going back to chaos.

I'm rubbish at blogs

So far at I have been beyond rubbish at this. I managed to write two blogs before even leaving the UK, and one in the first stop at Delhi, and since then, well, zero. I haven't even written in my diary thing. Though, I've decided that this is not going to be somewhere where I write things, more where I lovingly pritt-stick in all my tickets/leaflets and maps so that they don't end up in another shoe-box, under my bed in my to-do section. I can write this down proudly as if I've been doing this all along but the reality is I first did it this morning. So now my book is beautifully leafleted up and I can make out like it is because I've been super organised and on top of all these things. It does look very pretty though. Following from updating my diary thing, it becomes the turn of my bloggy thing. But, I have a minor problem. I already can't remember stuff. It turns out that my supposedly young, fresh out of university brain can't even remember the events of the last two weeks clearly enough to write them down in some kind of comprehendible, linear order. Oh dear. This situation is further exacerbated by the fact that my brain is put under enormous strain with the pressure of Internet Cafes. An organised person would pre-write and plan a documentary of events that would unfold to allow a dash of wit and charm to stream through the words. No such luck. I rock up to the internet cafe and, plagued by the ticking clock and disappearing rupees, use my time invaluably by updating my facebook status and looking at a friend of a friend's photos from their latest visit to see their sister-in-law (depressingly, although not recently, looking at a friend of a friend's photos from what I think was a sister-in-law's birthday party has happened to me). Therefore, owing to this lack of time and lack of funds, and apparently appaling memory, it looks like this bloggy thing will be few and far between event with just a smidgen of details about what I'm actually up to. I'm hoping that a brief glossary now will somehow ignite my currently dorment brain to remember everything in eight months time. I grant you, something that is not hugely likely.

learning things

So far I have learnt lots of things. How to shower with a bucket and jug. Though, in truth, this wasn't really a skill I had to learn as such. In fact I'm quite confident that even without Delhi I would know how to do that. So maybe I should write, putting in to practice how to shower with a bucket and jug. How to go to the toilet with no paper and just a jug. This one I definitely did not know how to do beforehand. Though I picked it up quick (no pun intended) but I really think it is one of those skills that I'll get better and quicker at the longer I am here. A life skill, but not necessarily something that I will boast about and perform at parties. I've learnt that urine really does not have a good smell. This I've learnt is true of urine during the day, afternoon, or night, up the wall, on the pavement, on the grass, on the sand, in designated toilet holes, or whether it is adult, child, horse or cattle. None of it is nose-pleasing, or, let's be honest, toe-pleasing in flip-flops. I've learnt that I could never drive in Delhi. Imagine all of the cars, bicycles, motorbikes, rickshaws and pedestrians that you possibly can and put them all into the same roadway, all going in different directions. The roads tend to have three lanes but apparently this means five, not three, vehicles can use them. It reminds me of a child playing with toy cars - zooming the cars here and there, bashing into each other, and crossing, turning and reversing in possibly every spot not recommended by the Highway Code. It's a giggle. I have, however, also learnt that I really don't want to get ill. I spent most of last night listening to someone, or I hope more than one person otherwise I seriously worry for the future of this probably now frail, nothing-left-but-skin-and-bones individual, vomitting around every 5 minutes. It did not sound an ounce of enjoyment. I am, therefore, being extremely liberal with my poncey anti-bacterial hand wash that I was a bit scoffy of bringing.

Anyway, it's all going well and it's just getting used to the hustle an bustle of it all. We are leaving Delhi tomorrow for Jaipur.

finally making it

So we finally make it to Delhi after our five day delay. I didn't sleep. I have a sneaky suspicion that years of getting used to Ryanair's budget policy of 'breath too much air and pay twice your flight cost' made me extremely excited over all the free things: free food, free drinks, free ear plugs, free headphones, free toothbrush, free toothpaste and free socks (I was so excited about these that another passenger offered me his pair as well because he didn't think that they would give him quite so much enjoyment). I, therefore, couldn't sleep. Turning up in Delhi at 6am, I though this would be disatsterous. It turned out it was one of the easiest airport to city transfers ever. Bus to road. Road to Main Bazaar. Nice man, who I was rude to because I thought he was trying to lead us astray but luckily Amy was nice to, direct to hostel. Check-in. Immediate nap. Excellent.

and the trip goes on...

The first few days of this trip haven't exactly gone to plan.  At first, the news that our trip was to be delayed by five days made me think "ooh I'll get loads of little jobs done that I didn't have time to do before I left".  So, I have uploaded facebook photos, and have a clear camera memory card.  I have more music on my mp3 player and I've invested in a day backpack.  After those jobs, however, the reality is unfortunately that instead of Delhi, I have daytime TV.  Instead of sauntering around India in flip flops I'm curled up on the sofa, wearing the only warm clothes I have, wrapped up under a blanket watching episode after episode of daytime soaps.  Neighbours is followed by Home and Away, which is followed by Hollyoaks and then Eastenders.  And what is worse is that these soaps are broken up with the rediscovery of Jeremy Kyle.  I'd forgotten that such titles as 'did my boyfriend sleep with my daughter' even existed.  The highlights, and the exercise, of the day are the hourly cups of tea.  Life has seriously sunk to a new low. 

Monday 2nd of Feb - First Day of Trip

Amy and I at Heathrow Airport after a three hour (should have been 90 minutes) journey to the airport, shortly before we joined a four hour customer services queue, followed by a five hour (still should have been 90 minutes) trip back to Amy's house in Hertfordshire.  Eight hours of travelling and four hours of queueing all to end up back where we started and literally nowhere near India. Possibly the best start to our trip, only added to by the fact we won't even get to try to leave the UK again until Saturday. Truly awesome.