DEAR DIARY: WANDERLUST.

Dear Diary,

There's less than a week until I fly halfway around the world. I've started packing the things I'm leaving behind into boxes, my housemates have agreed to adopt my fish, and my backpack is laying open on the floor of my bedroom, waiting to be filled. But I don't feel ready to go. I'm stuck in that not-quite-close-enough-to-pack phase.

Rebecca.

THE BEGINNING AND THE END. NEW DELHI.

Our first morning in India. And our first venture out into the streets of Delhi. The first star jump at The Red Fort. And the first selfie. New Delhi Railway Station. Main Bazzar, Paharaganj. Snapped from a rooftop restaurant. I woke up to this outside my hotel room door. New Delhi Metro. A token for the NDM. The 'India' bracelet collection. We found a good restaurant in Paharaganj. And forgot to snap before we ate. Paharaganj at night. Hotel lights on DB Gupta Road. A snap of the traffic on the weekend in Delhi. One backpacker packed and ready to come home. A oneway tocken for the Airport Express. Waiting. Boarding passes. Wing seat. Snapped halfway home in KL airport. A very early sunrise. There's no place like home. It's good to see you again Adelaide.

As we flew in and out of Delhi we were able to spend a few days at each end of our trip in the city.

We flew into Delhi at night which was really cool - the streets were dimly lit by street lights and headlights of millions of vehicles zipped around - and daunting at the same time. A foreign country, jet lag, and the dark of night make for a insane thrown-in-the-deep-end backpacking experience. Because we were arriving at night, and because the time difference meant that for us it'd be even later, and we'd have been traveling all day, we booked accommodation before we left. This meant that once we'd gone through immigration, baggage claim, and found the exit, there was a man waiting for us with our miss-spelt names of a piece of paper. The air was cool and crisp with the smell of night and I was jet lagged, but I couldn't keep a smile off my face. We experienced our first only-in-India moment when the man suddenly ran off to the booths where you pay for parking and started jostling to get to the front of the line, because if he paid a couple of minutes earlier he'd save R20 and get to keep that for himself. Fair enough, we thought. We then jumped into his 'taxi' and I instinctively put the seat belt on. No, no, no, he said, jumping out of the drivers seat, opening my door and unbuckling the seat belt. Seatbelt only for boss, he said, smiling, and getting back into the drivers seat. I looked over at my travel buddy who looked as nervous, confused, and amused as I felt, and he raised his eyebrows, smiled, and I couldn't help but smile - we were in India and about to spend three months exploring this incredble, chaotic, vibrant country. 

As jetlagged as we were, we didn't get to sleep quickly that night. We sat in bed listening to the sounds of India - dogs barking, men yelling, cars honking, and pinching ourselves (mostly me) to check that it wasn't a dream.

I woke up in the middle of the night and was surprised to hear nothing - not a honk, bark, or whisper. I look around the room, confuse that I was next to a wall, and the door wasn't where it usually was, an then remember that I was in India, and went back to sleep with a smile on my face. After a couple of hours sleep we woke up to barking, honking, and yelling, jumped out of bed and peeked out of the tiny window in our room. We couldn't see much (not a surprise!) and headed up to the rooftop restaurant for breakfast. We opted for plain nann and chapati which, thinking back, would have looked incredibly weird to the guys working at the restaurant. We weren't brave enough to try anything else that morning. To the side of the restaurant was a stone staircase, and feeling brave, I decided to wander up it and snap a picture of the view. Amazing. Rooftops, tiny windows, and washing lines as far as the eye can see.

After breakfast we headed out of the comfort of our hotel and into the streets of Paharaganj. It was overwhelming - the sights, sounds, and smells of India hit you as soon as you step onto the street, and follow you as you step carefully around the rubbish and try to navigate the footpaths. And then you've got to navigate New Delhi's mess of tiny alleys, some no wider than a person, many of which aren't on the map. After a couple of hours of walking, consulting two maps and asking a couple of locals we found ourselves at The Red Fort. After an afternoon wandering around we were exhausted, and headed onto the street to hop into a rickshaw back to our hotel. I'd never done the bargain-for-the-fare thing before, so let my travel buddy do the talking, and we hopped into a cycle rickshaw. The driver gave us the usual tourist spiel - the shops he could take us to, the local spice markets, the silver mines, the jewelers, and promised us the best prices - and it wasn't until we started to get out that he agreed to just take us to our hotel. He was clearly annoyed at us, because he wasn't going to be able to take us to any shops and get a commission. After a while he stopped at a hotel, not our hotel, just a hotel on the street. We looked at him and he looked at us. We told him this wasn't our hotel, and he'd agreed to take us to the addressed that we showed him (always grab a business card from the hotel lobby to show drivers!) but he didn't understand a word we were saying, and we didn't understand a word he was saying. After a little while we told him that we weren't going to pay him until he took us to the place we agreed, and go out. By this time we'd attracted a bit of attention - the rickshaw was blocking traffic, and a group of young Indian men standing nearby asked us if we were okay. We explained the situation to them, and they translated for us, and managed to convince the driver to take us to the hotel. We got close, but when we got to the flyover (over the train tracks) he stopped again and started pointing at his legs - I think he was telling us that his legs were tired and he didn't want to pedal over the bridge. We admitted defeat, paid, and walked the rest of the way. It was a rude awakening to how we were going to be treated as tourists in India, and we made sure we were on our guard for the rest of our trip. To local people, you are a wealthy white person with a backpack full of money, and as horrible as I feel saying it, it's true. Keep your wits about you, bargain hard, stick up for yourself and you'll be treated with respect.

When we arrived in Delhi at the end of our trip we had a better idea of what to expect, how things work, and how to handle the chaos that is New Delhi. Those last few days were spent wandering the bazaar for souvenirs, eating at Maltholta - our favorite restaurant in Paharaganj - and watching the traffic on DB Gupta road from our hotel room.

We got up early on Sunday morning, packed the last of our things into our backpacks, triple checked we had our passports, and headed out into New Delhi Railway Station to catch the airport express. Our adventure had come to an end, and as challenging, frustrating, annoying, and confusing as India was, it was incredible.

Rebecca.

THE PINK CITY. JAIPUR.

A couple of snaps wandering around Jaipur in the morning. A gang of kids were very interested in my travel buddy. And one walked down the street with us. After almost three months in India even my soft drink tasted like masala. Chalk lines on the street in preparation for a parade. Are we in the right spot? Henna. It's about to begin. A flower arrangement on the floor. The gate to The Pink City. The biggest papad ever. A big thumbs up too Rajasthan for being the only state in India that accepts foreign student cards. A sightseeing selfie. Looking up in Janta Mantra. Another snap in Janta Mantra. A cool gate. The City Palace. Snapped from a window in the City Palace. No touching the arms - uh oh. Snapped in the courtyard at The City Palace. The ceiling. Looking up. A big pink wall. More snaps at The City Palace. A fort high up on a hill. The Amber Fort. The view from Amber Fort. Rajasthan is colourful. The secret passage under the fort. Another fort, on a hill overlooking a village. A quick snap of Albert Hall.

We arrived in Jaipur in the morning, and by the time we'd found our hotel, had a shower, and a nap, it was late afternoon so we decided to go for a wander around the city and that we'd do our sightseeing the next day. We wandered around for a while, through little alleys where a gang of kids ran towards us screaming every English word they know - hello, how are you, rupees, which country - and laughed as we chatted to them. We stopped to ask a local guy for directions, and he pointed us in the right direction, but told us that the sights were closing early as their was a festival that afternoon. He then pointed to a building across the street where there was a marque and chairs set up on the roof, and said that we could go up there and get good seats to watch the festival, for free. We were dubious at first - nothing is free in India - but went over to check it out, and as it turned out, the area was set up for tourists to watch the festival. We grabbed a couple of seats, and the street below buzzed with activity - tourists trying to cross the busy road, street vendors and their booming voices, and police trying to control the crowd of locals jostling for a good position to watch. The rooftop filled with tourists, media, and political big-wigs, and after some schmoozing, the festival started. Camels, elephants, dancing gypsies, gods, cows, marching bands - the Indian festival has it all.

The next day we were up early to do some sightseeing - Janta Mantra, Hal Mahal, The City Palace, Albert Hall, and The Amber Fort. It was a beautiful day, until we were at The Amber Fort and man took a picture of me drinking pepsi. And I snapped. I ran over, ripped his camera from his hands, deleted the picture of me, and threw it back at him. I was furious, and months of men taking pictures of me came to the surface and I couldn't ignore it. I yelled insult after insult - although he wouldn't have understood what I was saying - and he and his wife laughed. My travel buddy walked over, and I walked away. When I think back to that day, I remember feeling frustrated, angry, and upset. Frustrated because I couldn't communicated how I was feeling about the situation, angry because I couldn't do anything about it, and upset because I've never felt like this before. I felt violated, and I was helpless.

After spending the rest of the afternoon wandering around The Amber Fort, a quick bus back into the city, and a very quick lap around Albert Hall, we grabbed something to eat and headed back to our hotel to pack and get an early night as we had to be up at five the next morning to catch a train to Agra.

Rebecca.

THE GOLDEN CITY. JAISALMER.

A fort. Cows are everywhere in India, even in the fort. A snap from a rooftop in Jaisalmer Fort. Another snap of the view. Sitting in the big bay window looking out over Jaisalmer. The view from our guesthouse window. Looking along the fort wall. Curtains. I sat in the window and watched day turn into night and Jaisalmer light up. The lights of Jaisalmer. An oasis. Safari. Typical India. Jeepin. Ruins in the Thor desert. A castle. Looking up a the tower. Two little dolls on a bench at an abandoned ruined castle. And wooden carvings hanging on the wall. And in the afternoon we went on a camel safari. My camel was at the back and didn't want to keep up with the others. Because they put me in control of the camel, and it didn't want to listen. In the middle of the desert. Me, on a camel, in the desert. Chai at the end of a long hot afternoon. Star jumpin on the dunes. Footsteps in the sand. A selfie on the dune. Me, watching the sun set at the end of an amazing day. Sunset. Our tickets to the Jaisalmer Museum included an audio guide. Shopping. Which one? Soda.

I fell in love with Jaisalmer the minute that I arrived, and spent three beautiful days wandering around the fort, through the desert on camels, and squeezed in the little shops looking through piles and piles of wall hangings. 

We were in high spirits when our bus stopped at Jaisalmer in the morning, but I think this was a mixture of relief that we were getting off the bus, and delirium. The buses in India aren't five star, and you can expect honking, sudden swerving or breaking, and loud locals, but this bus was something else. The roads were bumpy, and it felt like the bus had no suspension, the window wouldn't stay shut which meant we were freezing cold, with no blankets, the driver honked all night, and literally all night, and had his radio on at full volume overnight, and he was driving like a bat out of hell. For the next ten hours I drifted in and out of delirious sleep, and by six the next morning my travel buddy and I were laughing at every honk and bump, and wiggled in the bed to the sound of Hindi music.

We'd booked our accommodation in Jaisalmer and it was a luxury to be able to know where we were going and that there was a room waiting for us when we got there. And it was an incredible room. It was a big room on the wall of the fort, with an incredible bay window with an amazing view over Jaisalmer, and cushions, where I sat and watched Jaisalmer go from day to dusk to night. The curtains were thin red cotton and in the afternoon the light caught them and this beautiful dusky red glow filled the room. It was the most amazing place I've ever stayed. I honestly could have sat in the bay window for days and watched the town below.

Once we'd settled in we went for a walk around town and did a bit of normal backpacking things - booked a bus, went to the bank, did laundry. We drank mango juice and watched the sun go down. 

The next day we had a bit of a lazy morning, deserved after spending five of the past seven days sleeping on buses and trains. After lunch we met up with a local guy who took us on a quick tour of a ruined castle and an oasis, before taking us to the meeting point for our camel safari. I was really nervous because I'd never ridden a camel before and was worried about getting on and off because, you know, it's meant to be difficult. It's really not, so I'm not sure why people say that it is. We - the guide, three Brits, five camels, my travel buddy, and I - set off into the desert. After a couple of hours plodding along we arrived at the dunes and while our guides started making dinner we went for a walk. The dunes were incredible, They were totally untouched and there was nothing around for miles. For once, we were the only people around. We snapped away for a little while, before sitting down and watching the sunset over the dunes. Once the sun had set we had dinner - sitting on the ground on a sheet in the middle of the desert - before jumping back in the jeep and making our way back to the fort, driver and friend in the front chatting in Hindi, and my travel buddy and I being thrown around in the back like two coconuts. 

We spent our last day in Jaisalmer wandering around the fort and shopping for wall hangings, stopping at the soda shop for blueberry and pineapple soda - I really liked it and it was only R25 for a huge cup! We made our way back to the guesthouse in the afternoon and the incredibly kind owner let us take a nap in the room before we made our way to the bus station for our last overnight bus to Jaipur. If you're ever in Jaisalmer (and I'd highly recommend you do go!) you have to get in touch with Lala, who runs The Mud Mirror guesthouse and see if he has a room. It cost us R1800 (AUD34) for two nights, and although it is a little bit a splurge, it's worth every rupee. The owner and his son are extremely hospitable, the chef cooks incredible food, and the rooms are amazing. And it's a fort!

Rebecca.

THE BLUE LOTUS FLOWER. PUSHKAR.

The view of Pushkar and beyond. The little streets in Pushkar. A good coffee at The Blue Sky Cafe. And a pizza, because it's what I felt like eating. I'm not sure what this building was but I called it Monkey Palace. Sending postcards. Another snap of the street. Sitting in an internet cafe watching the world go by on the street outside. And then this guy walks past. A guy walks out into the road with a ladder. And starts wiring a string of lights. Oh the life of a backpacker - packing again. Chillin. The market in Pushkar. Reading the paper. We stayed here and it was literally a family's house with a spare few rooms.

 

We'd spent the best part of two days traveling, sleeping first on a bus and the next night on a train, and by the time we hopped off the train in Ajmer we were two weary travelers. We went from the train station to the bus station and just managed to squeeze ourselves on the local bus to Pushkar. I plonked myself down on the floor and cried. I was exhausted. I was tired. I was ready to go home. It was only a quick bus ride to Pushkar, and once we once again set off in search of a place to stay. A tout handed us a card as we were walking down the street and quite happily we wandered down the street to check out the guesthouse. One of the most challenging things about backpacking (to me) is finding a place to stay when you arrive in a new destination. You're fighting exhaustion and hunger, it's usually very early in the morning, your clothes are dirty, and your backpack starts to feel like it's full of bricks. Towards the end of the trip it became easier to navigate new places, chat to touts and find a place to stay without having a meltdown.

We had a wander around Pushkar that afternoon, stopping to browse the market stalls and look for postcards. We didn't actually go into the temple because we couldn't be bothered (and didn't really trust leaving our belongings with a local guy on the street) with it and because we'd heard lots of things about scams. For the same reason we avoided the ghats and the lake and stuck to wandering through the markets and eating our way through every potato dish (my comfort food!) in Pushkar. 

We only had around ten days left of our trip left at this stage and we really wanted to make the most of it so decided we'd give up the luxury of a bed and hop straight onto an overnight bus to Jaisalmer. We didn't know it at the time, but we'd booked a private bus and private buses are the worst buses in Rajasthan. We were in for a very bumpy, loud, and restless night.

Rebecca.

THE EPITOME OF INDIAN ROCK-CUT ARCHITECTURE. AURANGABAD.

Ellora Caves. Cave No. 17 an incredible temple carved into the side of a cliff. A snap with people in it, for size reference. And a snap from the top of the cliff behind it - my travel buddy hiked up and snapped with my phone. This is how Indian scaffolding is constructed. And this is how high it went. Carvings in the Ellora caves. It's incredible to see them carved into the cliffs. Jeepin' it back to town. A forgein tourist ticket to the Ajanta Caves. Thems the rules at Ajanta. The roof. Mood lighting in Ajanta. One steep staircase. The Ajanta caves cliff. Wall carvings at Ajanta. Pillars. A selfie on the steps at Ajanta. Reclining Buddha. A selfie, with a couple of Indian people. Jumboking. This is a jumboking. This is my travel buddy eating a jumboking. Ice-crime.

My memories of Aurangabad are whirlwind of buses, caves, sweltering hot days, bottles of water, and jumboking. We arrived on an overnight bus from Mumbai and after quickly finding a place to stay we ate and jumped on a bus to Ellora.

The Ellora caves are 29 kilometres from Aurangabad - around 45 minutes on the local bus or half an hour via shared jeep (bargain hard and you can get a jeep for the same price as the bus!) - and represents the epitome of Indian rock-cut architecture, so wikipedia says, and I'd agree. The caves are structures - Buddhist, Hindu, and Jain temples, viharas, and mathas - excavated from the vertical face of the Charanandri hills. I don't think I could ever describe how incredible the Ellora caves are, they're one of those places that you just have to see to believe. A path connects all of the caves, and you can easily spend the best part of a day wandering along it. You may have to climb over, under, and through some scaffolding, but it's all in a day of sightseeing in India. There is also a path along the top of the hills, but my travel buddy says it's not for the fainthearted. After a long, hot day we headed back to Aurangabad in a share jeep - we were going to take the local bus, but the jeep driver offered us the trip for the same price so we jumped in. Ask the sit in the front seat - you may end up sharing it with two other people (and then a driver) but it's better than being crammed into the back seat, or boot. There were 15 people in the jeep at one point.

 We weren't too keen on venturing too far from the hotel in Aurangabad - it's not the nicest place during the day, and after dark is incredibly seedy - so popped to the corner burger store, Jumboking, for dinner. Street food stalls are alive at night in India - fluorescent lights light the streets, crowds of locals stand around chatting and drinking chai, and the sound of pakodas in oil is a constant fizzle in the background. When you find a good street food place, you go back - again and again. Jumboking was one of those places. The burgers (with potato patties) were so good, and the salad on them was fresh. I don't remember the exact price (I remember names, my travel buddy remembers numbers) but they were budget friendly. 

The next morning we were up bright an early to hop on a bus to the Ajanta Caves. These are located a little further from Aurangabad - the local bus takes around three hours - but are worth the long, hot bus ride. The Ajanta Caves are Buddhist monastic buildings, and are masterpieces of Buddhist religious art. They are incredible - elaborate stone carvings carved by local monks and amazing mural paintings line the walls, ceiling, and floor of the caves telling stories, and silence fills the Chaitya-grihas. After another long day of cave hopping we caught the bus (just stand on the side of the road opposite the entrance to the site and the bus will stop) back to Aurangabad - standing for a little while before managing to quickly nab a seat at the back of the bus when some locals got off. 

We headed back to the hotel to grab our bags (they'd let us leave them there after checking out) and after a quick shower and a cheeky tip to the concierge for letting us duck into a room to freshen up, we headed to Jumboking for burgers and fries, before heading to the bus station to wait for our overnight bus back to Mumbai. We'd be sleeping on a bus this night, and the next night on a train, and by the time we arrived in Pushkar we were very, very wearly travelers.

Rebecca.

THE CITY BY THE SEA. MUMBAI.

An early morning arrival. Typical morning backpacker snap. McDonalds - because after two months you would kill for something from home. Doing the tourist thang at The India Gate. A close up. The David Sassoon Library. The Mumbai skyline. Mumbai Chowpatty. The view over the harbour from our hotel room. Street food on steroids at Bademiya. A snap of Indian scaffolding. Close up. Another tourist snap - Mumbai Clocktower. Snapped. The clock tower from the park. We took the Mumbai Metro. And here I am enjoying the metro. Haji Ali Mosque. It's a shame Indian people don't understand littering and the effect it has on our planet. Haji Ali Mosque up close. A row of shanty houses along the street. Dhobi Ghat - the biggest open air laundry in the world. Rice for sale. Mumbai's mish mash of rich and poor. Mind your head. On a narrow staircase. Indian electrical wiring. One of the entrances to Dharavi. Dharavi, the biggest slum in India. One of the streets in Dhavari. Indian people often had trouble with my travel buddy's name. Standing on the edge of the platform. We jumped on the train in the afternoon rush - it was chaos. People were hanging out of the windows and doors. Luckily a local guy helped us out and stopped us from being trampled. Indian's do a mean ice cream - kulfi! Our favourite place to eat in Mumbai. At Mumbai GPO trying to find our package. The lift at Mumbai GPO - I don't think we were meant to use it but we did and no one minded. Broken thong? No problem. It cost R20 (AUD40c) to fix and was done in five minutes. Crossing the road in Colaba. At the Mhatma Ghandi museum. Windows. Chor Bazzar, also known as thieves bazzar - if you ever have anything stolen in Mumbai it will turn up here. The India Gate. Sunrise through the blinds. The Prince of Wales Museum. Corn. From this street vendor.

As soon as we arrived in Mumbai I fell in love with the city. After a good look around Colaba we found a room at The Sea Shore Hotel - a good look around and a couple of hours waiting in the hotel reception hoping that someone would check out. We were able to get a room, and although it was a little more than we'd paid for accommodation thus far - R990 (AUD18.47) - it was the best accommodation in the area, and it was still only nine bucks a night each.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around Colaba, Churchgate, and Fort - the traveller hub, and also one of the best places to be scouted to be an extra on a Bollywood. We headed for the India Gate - the monument built to commemorate the arrive of the British East India Company in India - which was impressive, and a great place to do some people watching. Mumbai's filled with old buildings reminiscent from it's time under Portuguese and British rule, and you can easily spend the afternoon wandering up and down the streets admiring the contrast between the old and new. We did! We then did what any western traveller hoping to be scouted for Bollywood does and went to McDonalds for lunch. One of the things that I like about travelling is having opportunity to see, do, and embrace, normal things in another country, culture, and society. I like to just live, and experience life in another place. It was really interesting to visit a fast food chain in India as you get to see a different side to life in India. In western countries it's typically people in lower socioeconomic classes that patron fast food restaurants. In India, it's the opposite. Fast food restaurants are full of wealthy families and rowdy teenagers hanging out with friends.

 After lunch we wandered a little further into Mumbai and started chatting to a couple of America travellers who were heading to the Hanging Gardens - a park on a hill that overlooks Mumbai - and decided to tag along. The walk along Marine Drive, where real estate prices are among the highest in India, was beautiful, and the breeze coming from the Arabian Sea was refreshing in the heat. There's a bit of a hike to the park, but once you're there the views are worth it. Any local can point you in the right direction if you get a little lost. We said goodbye to the American travellers and hopped on a bus back to Colaba. After a quick refresh at the hotel we headed out to Bademiya - labelled street food on steroids by Lonely Planet. They weren't kidding! It was incredible. If you're ever in Mumbai you have to try it. If it wasn't expensive (for India) we'd have eaten there more often.

The next day, after a danish and frap at Starbucks, having not being scouted to be a Bollywood extra yet, we did a bit more sightseeing. We jumped on the metro - the local railway system that transports over 6.3 million people each day - and hopped of to see Haji Ali's Mosque and the dhobi ghats, the open air laundry where Mumbai's millions of residents send their laundry. We'd noticed a cinema close to our hotel, and on the way back popped in pick up tickets for the show later than evening. After a quick stop at Bademiya, we headed to the movies to see Himatwala. I picked up a big tub of caramel popcorn for R50 (AUD93c) too - I was all smiles and dancing in my seat by the time the movie finished.

If you've read Shantaram you'll know how excited I was to have breakfast at Leopalds. The cafe features heavily in the book, and there were whispers that Shantaram (that's the name the locals have given to the author) was in Mumbai. The food at Leopalds was average and overpriced, and we sat down once or twice and ordered, only to be told that frappe's weren't possible (although to be fair this does happen at lots of restaurants in India). To be completely honest, it's worth a look - you can see the bullets and some of the damage from the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks - but not worth going back.

While we were in Mumbai we also did a tour of the biggest slum in India, Dhavari. We chose to do our tour through Reality Tours, but we met travellers who arranged tours with slum residents and had a great time, and travellers who went with a local and got a tour of the pubs. If you can trust a local, and feel comfortable heading into the slum with them then go for it. Otherwise there are plenty of tour operators to choose from. The slum is not an unsafe place, but it is a place where you can easily get lost so a guide is a good choice. When we arrived at the slum it was nothing like I expected. It looks nothing like what you think a slum looks like. But then, what is a slum? By definition a slum is a house that occupies land that is owned by the government. But it doesn't necessarily mean poverty. Dhavari has an annual turnover of US65 billion per year. The residents in the slum churn out plastic, tin, garments, everything you can think of, and they run shops and restaurants. You could even mistake the streets of the slums for any street in India. In fact, may of the streets did look like streets I'd walked down on my trip. The only difference between those streets and the streets in Dhavari is that the government can come and knock it down whenever they want which sucks because people have built their lives on what would otherwise be a bare patch of land between two train tracks.

 We then headed for the train station, and as we were waiting on the platform I noticed that it was a little busier than usual - we'd walked into a train station at rush hour, in India. When the train pulled into the station I knew we were going to have to do as the locals do - push. It's not as bad as it sounds once you get used to the idea and learn how to do it. Elbow are key, you can use them to stop anyone from pushing in front of you, and forget personal space - there is non of that on public transport in India. I squeezed myself into the crowd and pushed my way onto the train, but then lost sight of my travel buddy. Panicking only slightly, I stood on my tiptoes and look around. The guy standing next to me must have sensed my panic and pointed above everyones heads to the other side of the doorway and said 'he got on'. Even though they'd push you out of the way to get in front of you, the locals are actually really friendly on the train. I was the only female in the carriage, and the locals left me alot more room than they leave for each other and they moved around so that my travel buddy and I could stand together. When the train stopped at Churchgate, the last station, we went to jump off the train when a local grabbed my travel buddy's arm and yelled at us to shop and wait. We stopped and were thrown against the seats when a huge crowd of locals stampeded onto the train. I'd have been trampled if I hadn't quickly moved out of the way. I stood there in awe as this crowd engulfed the carriage and quickly filled up. We thanked the local guy and jumped off the train, still a little shocked. To give you an idea of how overcrowded the train was, the train cars are rated to carry 1700 passengers but in peak hour they carry around 4500 passengers.

 We still hadn't been scouted to be an extra in a Bollywood movie, and were a little disappointed. But on our last day a traveller staying at the hotel on the floor below ours mentioned that the hotel bell boys had told her that a scout was looking for extras - but only males. I didn't want my travel buddy to miss out - and I don't mind living vicariously thorough his pictures - so we ran upstairs to chat to the bell boy. And like that, he was in. The next morning he set of shortly after the crack of dawn, and I set off on a walk abound Mumbai. Solo. I'd spent the best part of two months in India, and was confident in my ability to navigate the streets, the traffic, and bargain as hard as I could, but what really got to me on the day I went solo in Mumbai was the staring.

It's not uncommon to be stared at - male or female - in India. At first the starting didn't bother me, you put it down to curiosity, and to be honest, I was starting back as much as I was being stared at. But when I was starting at someone, and they looked at me, I looked away because I was taught that it's rude to stare as a child and have grown up living in a society where we quickly and politely look away when someone notices us looking. This isn't the case in India. They don't look away, and often they won't look away for hours and hours. And hours. My travel buddy had a guy stare at him for three hours straight on a train - the whole time we were on the train. After a while it makes you feel a little uncomfortable, but you ignore it, because trust me, yelling at the person doesn't make it stop, it makes it worse. It's not uncommon to be asked to be in photographs. It's also not uncommon to have photographs taken of you without being asked, and they're not subtle about it. On this day in Mumbai I was sitting on a wall eating corn on the cob and a group of guys close by started laughing and I realised they were taking pictures of me. I sat for a minute, thinking about how to react, and decided that I'd confront them. I walked over and said hello, and they all sort of just stared at me. I asked the guy with the phone if I could see the pictures of me and, of course, he said there weren't any. I grabbed his phone, found the pictures of me, quickly deleted them, and then walked away. When I was with my travel buddy this still happened, but when I was alone the attention I received was insane. I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the stairwell with some travellers, chatting about our travels, and what the boys were doing in Bollywood.

Our long week in the city by the sea came to an end, and we jumped on an overnight bus to Aurangaba, ready to explore another destination. 


Rebecca.

EAST INDIA. KOLKATA.

The only thing open in the morning was this chai stall. Hurry up and boil chai. First thing in the morning it's amazing. In a clay cup. The view of Kolkata through the trees. The Victoria Monument. The East India graveyard, a graveyard that has been reclaimed by nature. Laundry, India style. Tickets to Anybody Can Dance - our first Bollywood flick. The planetarium. Check out the technology in India. Science City. Messing around at Science City. Vogue India. A snap from the movie.

We hopped of the train in Kolkata at the crack of dawn, couldn't find an auto rickshaw driver who wasn't going to rip us off, so headed for the bus station. Although it is confusing trying to work out which bus you need, where it stops and where you can and can't sit on the bus, the buses in India are a great way to get around - and you're treated no different than the locals! The fare is around 1 rupee per kilometre, the bus conductor is patient while you hunt around for the right change and will usually let you know when your stop is the next stop (although there are no designated stops, you can hop on and off wherever you want) which is great when you're not entirely sure where you need to get off.

We weren't sure which bus we needed to get to the backpacker hub - Sudder Street - but a local guy was more than happy to help us and walk us to the right bus, and tell the bus conductor where we wanted to go. Policemen nearly always know which bus, direction, or road to take, if they understand your accent, and you're not too scared to approach their semi-automatic gun that you can clearly see is loaded. We hopped on the bus and it filled with morning commuters and off we went. The bus conductor kept his eye on us, and when it was time to get off he let us know and pointed us in the right direction. Three local guys, carrying huge gas bottles on their heads, who had also gotten off he bus, and motioned for us to follow them, and led us right to the street we needed to get to.

Then came the fun part - finding a place to stay. Although we didn't book any accommodation, we didn't have any trouble finding a place to stay. We'd turn up in the street or area we wanted to stay, look at a one or two rooms in a guest house, ask if they have hot water, towels, and if the windows open, negotiate a price, and if it was okay, take the room. If not, we'd walk to the next guest house and have a look there. Some rooms are overpriced, some are tiny with not windows, and some are downright dirty, but for the most part, finding a clean room wasn't hard. I was expecting a lot worse, and was pleasantly surprised. Sure, I lowered my standards, but for, on average, R600 (AUD10, GBP7, EURO8) you realise that as long as the shower delivers some water, you can flush the toilet and sleep comfortably, luxuries don't matter as much as they did before you backpacked. I do have to admit that the turning-up-and-finding-a-room was one of the most challenging aspects of this trip for me, and that often I got frustrated, upset, and even angry, and lost my cool. I was tired and hungry, and was being harassed by touts - they are extremely persistent (out of desperation) and don't take no for an answer and will follow you - and I let it all get to me. I had an awesome travel buddy who, firstly, put up with a moody, hungry, and tired me, and also managed to find us somewhere to stay.

We arrived early in the morning and not a lot was open. Even the chai wallah was still setting up his stall, and these guys are up early! We sat down on the makeshift seat beside the chai stall and ordered two chais - the perfect pick me. We watched the street come to life as we drank our chai, and decided to have breakfast before we checked out guesthouses. We wandered into The Blue Sky Cafe and I don't think we ate anywhere else the whole four days we were in Kolkata. Seriously, just go there. We then began our search for a room, and because the touts just don't leave you alone when you're carrying a backpack, I sat down with our bags while my travel buddy went looking. It took a little longer than usual, as lots of the guest houses were full, but we eventually found a room. We showered, changed, and headed out to explore the city.

It's really easy to get around for Kolkata as a backpacker. Taxi's are available - and you can convince then to take you on the meter - the metro (although we didn't use it) runs directly around the main points of interest, but best of all, the streets are laid out in a grid (unlike the higgledy piggeldy layout of Delhi) and it's easy to get around the city on foot. After Independence, the Indian government changed any street name that had Raj era connotations so today most major Kolkata streets have two names. Locals and taxi drivers still go by the old names but maps, street signs and business cards use new names.

We spent a day wandering around the city and it's surrounding park lands - where there were at least 20 games of cricket going on - and found our way to the Victoria Memorial.The memorial is an impressive building - the best views are actually from the outside, or from beside the reflection pool - and the museum inside is worth a look if you can stand the hoards of India tourists yelling, screaming, and taking pictures of you. Across the road from the Victoria Memorial is the planetarium which, if you've never been to a planetarium (me!) is worth a visit. The show itself isn't that impressive, but it's quite entertaining when the narrator stops to tell people off for using their mobile phones - she was quite angry by the end of the show. Also worth checking out is the Park Street Cemetery. Park Street is one of Kolkata's main commercial avenues, but about halfway down the busy street sits this vast cemetery overrun by nature. We spent an hour or so wandering through the rows of mausoleums, rotundas and ornate statues reading the graves, where we could - it's spooky but beautiful. It's free to enter but you are expected to leave a donation. We found that in this scenario R10 is enough. Have your donation ready as you leave to avoid the awkward question as you leave. 

While in Kolkata we also headed to the Roxy - a beautiful old theatre - to check out a Bollywood flick. The blockbuster Anybody Can Dance was currently playing and I have to say I was dancing in my seat by the time the movie finished. At most theatres they show films in English, but to be honest watching it in Hindi is pretty cool too. Sure, you don't know exactly what's going on, but you get the general plot (Bollywood films usually follow the same plot - guy meets girl, they fall in love, there's a conflict that stops them from being together, but they work it out) and the jokes still make you laugh.

Rebecca.

THE WETTEST PLACE ON EARTH. CHERAPUNJEE.

A trek down 2500+ steps to the bottom of a mountation. Looking down the steps still to go. Crossing a wire bridge and trying not to look down. Living root bridges made from the roots of fig trees. It takes thirty years to grow these bridges across the river. We found a lagoon and decided to take a swim. Standing in the bottom of a riverbed, I'd be six metres underwater in monsoon. Looking back at the riverbed we climbed over.

It's a bit of a hike to get to Cherapunjee, a town in the less travelled North Eastern states of India. Catch the a train to Guwahati, hop on a bus to Shilong, switch buses in Shilong and head for Sohra, and then jump into a taxi for the last stretch, to Cherapunjee. But you won't regret your decision to make the journey.

Cherapunjee is the wettest place on earth, and subsequently the locals have some trouble in the monsoon season - the rivers run so fierce and fast that the bridges wash away. Instead of building new bridges each year, the local use the roots from fig trees growing on the banks to build bridges across the river. To get to the living root bridges, you first have to trek down a mountain, all the way down 2500 steps, across three very wobbly wire bridges and into the riverbed, but when you get there. It's amazing. This is another one of those you-just-have-to-see-it places, and nothing I write here will every convey how incredible it was to see the enormous fig trees with their roots cleverly weaved into a bridge across a river. What's even more amazing is that when you stop for a drink at a local store, which is really just a guys house, the incredibly hospitable store owner tells you that if you walk for another ten minutes you'll see another bridge and a lagoon in the bottom of the now currently pleasant riverbed. My first question - is it safe to swim? It was, and we clambered over the boulders, stripped off (we didn't think to bring bathers, so opted for the cheeky underwear swim) and hoped in. And while I sitting in the sun on a huge boulder, in the bottom of a riverbed, at the bottom of a mountain, with my best friend, I realised that I loved travelling, and that even though it's tough, and it's challenging, and you get tired and cranky, it's incredible.

We dried off for a bit in the sun, clambered back over the boulders and up the mountain, and up two thousand and five hundred steps. It felt like the steps kept on going and going, and local people would walk past, smiling, while I was sweating, panting, and struggling to keep my legs going. Once we got to the top we flagged down a taxi, but when it stopped we didn't think we'd be able to get in. Nope, in India, they make you fit. My travel buddy and I hopped in the front seat, and four adults squeezed into the back seat. They were teachers, and they asked us all kinds of questions - How much were your flights to India? How much do cigarettes cost in Australia? Are you married?. Once we arrived in Sohra we asked around for a bus, but the last one for the day had already left, so we hung around the taxi stand (a bunch of locals standing around) and waited until we could fit in a share taxi back to Shilong. We did fit, eventually - all six of us, and a drive - into a small hatchback. And it only cost us R70 each for a two hour trip. India you be cray cray.

Rebecca.