A HOUSEBOAT ON THE KERELA BACKWATERS. KERELA.

On a bus to Allepy and the driver spent more time honking than not. How many rikshaw drivers does it take to find our guesthouse? Thatt - the BEST resturant in Kerela with the BEST milkshakes in India. Graffiti on the walls along the canal. We rented a houseboat for a day and it only cost R5000. Snaps along the backwater canals. Me, enjoying the view and my fresh coconut. Another snap of the canal. Full steam ahead captain. What a feast! Fish fry, it literally means, a fish, fried. A lovely sunset on the canal.

India is cheap. It's dirt cheap. For the first few weeks you marvel at just how cheap it is - a bottle of coca-cola is R30 (55c), a samosa is R10 (18c), a meal at a restaurant is R400 ($7.40), and you can go across town in a rikshaw for R50 (92c) - but then all of a sudden you find yourself scoffing at a street vendor because he's trying to charge you R12 for a somasa, and forgetting that two rupees is only four cents. After a while you become so accustomed to the price that you think of a R50 drink as expensive, take the bus because it only costs a rupee per kilometre, and spend half an hour bargaining in the markets because you want a good price. It was when we rented a houseboat in Kerela that we were reminded exactly how cheap it is to travel in India.

We left Munnar before the crack of dawn in the morning (remember your torch because local dirt roads are dark and you will end up stepping in a puddle!) and jumped onto - the bus was actually moving and the bus driver was yelling at us to hurry up and get one - a bus to Ernakalum. We then caught a bus from Ernakalum to Alappuzha (also known as Alapey) where we spent a night (in the guesthouse where a rat jumped out of my travel buddy's bag!) before boarding a houseboat to spend a day in the backwater canals of Kerela. There isn't much to do in Alappuzha, it's a transit destination for travellers going to and from the backwaters, but if you are ever there you have to go to Thaff, the restaurant with THE best milkshakes in India - if we'd had more time in Alappuzha there, we would have gone back for seconds, thirds and fourths!

Early the next morning we took a rikshaw along the canal to the starting point of our houseboat cruise. We booked the cruise the day before (it was the 'off' season so we could get away with this, but book ahead in peak season) and an overnight cruise for two people, including food and drinks, costs R5000 (AUD 92.50). It does cost slightly more in the peak season as an extra tax is added. The rikshaw wizzed past people's homes, and you can get a really good (cheeky!) glimpse into the way that local people live. Once we were one the houseboat, the chef (it came with a chef and driver) gave us some fresh coconuts and we set off down the canal. We spent the morning lounging around on the couch and taking pictures of life on the backwaters. The chef announced lunch and we rushed down to the dining room, our bellies rumbling, and tucked a feast. My travel buddy and I were sharing one meal, and I don't know if we were eating less, or if Indian portion sizes are bigger, but there is always alot of food. Always. After a lazy afternoon the houseboat docked and we jumped of for a quick look around, before heading back and getting comfortable with our kindles, and read until the sun went down, occasionally peeking up to take in the sunset behind the palms.

The next morning we were up bright and early for breakfast and a quick cruise around the backwaters, before disembarking and heading back to the bus station. Ah, that mad dash to find the bus you need to be on, and having to push along with the crowd of locals who want to get on too - the life of a backpacker in India.

Rebecca.

THE HILL STATION. MUNNAR.

Cows, rikshaws, cars - they all share the road in India. We did more research and trip planning. I love it when the menu has pictures. Homemade chocolate in Munnar. An early morning start for a trek. Treking through the tea plantations in Munnar. A tea plant. And a tea seed. I treked up, and back down this mountain. We came past a treehouse on our trek - of course we climbed up the handmade wooden ladder to have a look inside. This little guy was so hyper and excited to see us - his name is puppy! Sat in the back of a jeep with the coconuts on the way back from the trek.

As the weather gets warmer, the locals head for the hill stations, so to escape the heat of the Indian summer we followed suit (following locals is also good when you don't know which way the exit is, when you need to cross a busy road and when you want to find a decent street food stall) and headed to Munnar, a hill station in Kerela. We hopped on a local bus in Madurai and as we were the first on the bus we managed find a bit of space for our backpacks. If you're not first on a local bus, be prepared to have to stand up and wear your backpack, or squeeze onto a seat with it. The bus to Munnar wasn't that bad at all - the seats weren't broken, it wasn't too crowded, and we had a window that opened. As you get close to Munnar the landscape changes from dry desert, to lush green tea plantations, and the bus winds its way through tea fields where women are busy picking.

Munnar is a beautiful little hill station, and it's really easy to get around on foot. Auto rickshaw's are an easy (and faster) option - and you might even get the driver who will play the only English song he has - Effiel 65's Move Your Body - at full volume. We took a rikshaw to a cluster of guesthouses a short walk away from Munnar in Old Munnar and settled on a room at Greeview Cottage. If you're ever in Munnar you have to stay there. It's worth the R50 extra (than another similar room) because it has the best hot shower you'll have in India. The only (slightly odd) downside is that there were no plugs in the room. We were hardly using our iPhone's (and you can charge them at internet cafe's which Munnar does have!) and my travel buddy's camera battery was charged so luckily this wasn't too much of a problem - just a bit weird.

After we had settled in we headed into town to get some lunch before heading to the Tata Tea Museum. If you've ever traveled to India you'll know what their museums are like. If you haven't, don't worry, you're not missing much. Most museums are a room with a random collection of items, with really vague descriptions, and it's all a bit chaotic. Indian people take pictures of everything (including you!) and tend to be over excited and loud. They also have no concept of personal space and common courtesy - they will stand right in front of you when you're trying read something, take a picture, or just chatting to your travel buddy. You kinda get used to it and find yourself doing the same after a while. A short film runs every half an hour which is kinda cool as it talks about the history of the region. It then turns into a propaganda film for Tata - the multinational conglomerate who own most of the tea plantations in Munnar, as well as make cars, computers, phones, food, chemicals, hotels and everything else under the sun. You'll get to know the name Tata and the Tata Nano if you backpack around India. The museum was a bit underwhelming, as things often are in India. After seeing a few museums you really appreciate that you live in a city with an awesome museum and make a mental note to visit when you get home. We headed back to our guesthouse, stopping to buy a ton of chocolate (it's made locally and is cheap) on the way and got a got an early night.

It was really hard to get out of bed the next morning when our alarm went off at six, but we quickly hopped up and into our trekking gear knowing that there was hot tea waiting for us downstairs. We met our guide and headed out into the chilly morning. We treked through one of the (hundreds and hundreds) of tea plantations to the top of a mountain for breakfast, and standing on the top of this mountain all you can see is tea. After breakfast we trekked down the mountain and through the wild jungle stopping to see wild spices, taste a cocoa bean in it's rawest form, and to play with a super hyper puppy, named puppy. Towards the end we came across a tree house and scuttled up the flimsy, hand made ladder to have a look of the view over the valley. It sure was scary getting up there, but the view was incredible. At the end of the trek out guide took us to his home for lunch (lunch is usually between 3-4 in the afternoon in India) which was one of the most amazing meals - home cooked by his family - that I've ever had. We hopped into a jeep that would take us back to our guesthouse and in true Indian style my travel buddy and I sat in the back with a bunch of coconuts It was a bumpy ride!

Rebecca.

MEENAKASHI AMMAN TEMPLE. MADURAI.

Chennai to Maduari. What else do you get after an overnight bus? Chai. The temple in Madurai is smack bang in the middle of the city. The view from the top of the hotel. Masala dosa for breakfast. Planning the last six weeks of the trip. Onion barjis from a street stall, the best in India. Shopping for pants. Looking up at the temple. Postcard haul. And waiting at the bus station, again.

We arrived in Madurai, the heart of Tamil Nadu, at the crack of dawn on an overnight bus, and as soon as we found the backpacker hub we stopped at a street stall for a chai. Once we'd refueled we set off in search of a room for the night. It's true what the guide books say about Madurai - it's worth paying a little bit extra for a much nicer room. The cheapest, smallest, no windows, dirty room that we could find was R600 - alot for India - but for R1000 we could have a big, light, clean room, with windows and a nice modern bathroom. We checked in, settled in, and went up to the rooftop for breakfast. The view was awesome - the Meenakashi Amman Temple (the reason we were in Madurai) stands above the rest of the buildings that surround it, and you can faintly hear the sounds of the train station as you admire it. 

After breakfast, some more trip planning, a quick stop at a street stall for samosa and onion barjis, we headed to the Meenakashi Amman Temple. If you are gonna visit Madurai and check out the temple, do not take anything, apart from a little bit of cash, with you. You can't take bags, cameras, mobile phones, water bottles, or shoes into the temple, and you also need to be wearing long pants and have your shoulders covered. To be absolutely honest, the best views of the gopurams are from the outside, and the inside is the same as every temple in India - deities, a lotus pool, and a temple elephant, in chains, bonking people on the head for money.

It was starting to get warm and we'd heard that the plains get up to around 48 degrees during summer, so we quickly hopped on a bus and headed for the hills.

Rebecca.

BACK ON THE MAINLAND. CHENNAI.

A street snap. The best street stall in the world. Where you can buy a slice of watermelon as big as me for R10. A mall. Chennai by night in the back of a rickshaw. The cheapest breakfast in India, R30. Chalk drawings. Snapped while sipping chai on the street.

After three weeks of island life I was really looking forward to heading back to the hustle and bustle of the mainland and exploring more of India. We arrived in Chennai after an early morning flight from Port Belair, and found our way to the backpacker hub of Triplicane - where hotels and guesthouses line the little alleyways, street vendors are everywhere, and lassi and juice shops spring open at the crack of dawn. We got one of the best rooms we had in India in Chennai - R450 for a big clean room with windows, a TV, a bathroom with a nice shower, a comfortable bed and unlimited wi-fi for an extra R30. It was a bargain, and we spent the first few hours in Chennai admiring our room.

Once we were settled in (in backpacker slang this means you've washed, brushed your teeth, and changed your underpants) we headed out for a look around the city. On our walk I found the best street stall in the world that sold watermelon by the slice for R10 - and the slices were as big as me. Fresh fruit is often hard to come by in India, so I was over the moon to find this little stall and refresh with a giant slice of melon. There should be stalls like these in Adelaide!

We were halfway through our trip at this stage and we still had so much that we wanted to see and do - that flight home was looming into view at an alarming rate. I wasn't even sure that I wanted to be on it. Time felt like it had dragged, and flown, at the same time. You start to lose your sense of time when you're backpacking. You wake up without an alarm, eat breakfast at lunch time, skip lunch and stop at a street stall for somosa's instead, and go to bed when you're tired. You forget what the date is, and what day it is, but hopefully you'll remember that you've got a train tomorrow, and you're only reminded that it's Easter when your Instagram feed is clogged with chocolate and hot cross buns.

Rebecca.

TROPICAL PARADISE. THE ANDAMAN ISLANDS.

I've never been more excited to get on a plane. Waiting on the runway. Somewhere over the Indian Ocean. And we're in The Andaman Islands. Beach number five. We hired a scooter for R400 for the day to scoot around the island. What a beach bum! I loved that coconuts are R20 and they're so fresh. The Cellular Jail, Port Blair. All aboard. Another snap of beach number five. Our hut by the beach. Postcard writing as the sun goes down. Coconuts at beach number seven. I love scooting. A scooter selfie together. Lazing around in the hut at Barefoot Scuba. Another coconut. Rikshaw. Holiday selfie. Getting comfortable on the scuba boat. Snapped from Barefoot scuba. Bikini-ing in tropical paradise. Looking back at the island. A scuba selfie. This guy was very friendly. Flying. Coral.

After a month and a bit in India we we ready to head to The Andaman Islands to chill out, relax, and escape the constant chaos of India. 

We arrived in The Andaman Islands after a short flight from Kolkata, an overnight stop in Port Belair, and an early morning ferry. The sun was shining, the water was clean, and we'd found a beach hut (literally a hut 50 metres from the beach, and it was only R400 a night!) to spend our lazy days. We soon settled into island life - long lazy breakfasts, reading on the beach, cooling off in the ocean every so often, making friends with the local beach dogs, snoozing the afternoon away and slathering aloa vera on our burnt shoulders in the evening - and the days passed in a blur of kindles, coconut milkshakes and suncream.

While we were in The Andaman Islands I did something that I never thought I'd do (again!) - I learnt to scuba dive. This was one of the most incredible things I've ever done, and one of the scariest. Luckily I had an amazing instructor who was patient, easy-going, and answered every single silly question question I had, and I had an incredible dive buddy (who was also doing her open water course) who had lived in India for ten years and taught me a lot about Indian culture, people, and language. I got  up each morning at six, wandered down the beach collecting shells, spent the beautiful sunny day diving from a fishing boat cum dive boat, and then wandered back, collecting more shells, for a snooze and then dinner. Those first few breathes underwater were daunting, and I petrified when the instructor told me I'd have to take my mask off, pass it around my back, put it back on and clear it, but by the end of the course I was seriously considering giving up my day job, moving to the island, and becoming an instructor.

While there is a bus on Havelock Island, it's notorious for not running to a schedule (it comes when it comes where the words the locals used) and can be crowded with locals. It's not too far to walk from beach five to the village at beach three, and the jetty at beach one, but the best way to explore the island - and get to beach seven - is by scooter. We hired a scooter and zipped off to beach number seven for the day - my travel buddy driving, and me on the back. Zooming down those long island roads, through jungle, past long white sandy beaches and clean blue water was one of the highlights of the trip for me. I (even more) seriously considered moving to the island. 

Another cool thing to do do on Havelock island is to trek to Elephant Beach, and if you're lucky, you'll bump into a couple of elephants along the way. About halfway along the trek we heard noises ahead and were surprised to see an elephant appear in the middle of the jungle - not that it was in the jungle, but that it was just right there in front of us! Elephants are big, but when you see one, in the wild, walking towards you, they're huge! I froze for a second, as this incredible elephant plodded along past us, so close if felt like I could have reached out and touched it. And then a second elephant appeared, following the path made by the first one. We watched them walk away, and we didn't move along the trek until they were completely out of sight. It was one of those things that you can't plan, and that is so simple, but you realise what an incredible place you're in, and how lucky you are. At the end of the trek is Elephant Beach, where we swapped out backpacks for masks and did some snorkeling and free diving. My travel buddy did most of the free diving, I did most of the snorkeling. At times my belly was skimming the reef, and other times I couldn't see the floor, tropical fish were as curious in us as we were in them, and sea urchins lay hiding in plain site. Does this place really exist, or am I dreaming?

All good things come to an end, and as sad as I was to leave my tropical paradise, the beach dogs I'd made friends with, and take my bikini off, I was excited get back on the mainland to explore the south.

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.

THE TEA ESTATE: DARJEELING.

Waiting for sunrise at Tiger Hill. Sunrise. Kangchenjunga - the world's third highest peak. Looking back at Darjeeling. Buddhist prayer flags. We found this Buddhist grave on our trek back from Tiger Hill. Street cricket. Street art in Darjeeling. Happy Valley Tea Estate. Another snap of Darjeeling. A cup of tea. The chess game drew quite a crowd in the tea estate. We went to Darjeeling zoo. And chilled with this guy. And this monkey. And on the walk home we saw fireworks! Tibetan food is da bomb. Momos. Tea! The best place to eat.

We booked a train ticket to Darjeeling, and what we found out when we met a bunch of other travellers at the train station was that the train we booked tickets on was a 'notoriously shitty train'. In India, this loosely translates into, this train will be delayed by seven hours. What's crazy is that everyone in India knows that this particular train will be seven hours late because it's always seven hours late, and instead of changing the schedule to reflect the delay, they just operate on the assumption that anyone booking a ticket on it knows it'll be seven hours late and turns up at the station at the right time. Not seven hours early like we did. We threw our backpacks on the ground (they make great seats!) and got comfortable. Our group swelled from three to nine as other travellers arrived at the station and realised they were in for a wait. As cliche as it sounds, we all sat in a circle and played cards, tuned guitars, had staring competitions with Indian people (always an entertaining game!), drank chai and shared stories - from home and our travels. Not only was this my first train delay, but these were my first travel friends. 

Strangers one minute, friends the next. Names are forgotten as soon as they're mentioned, but what you remember is where your new friends are from. Canada, who's travelling solo around the world with his guitar and go-pro, France and Brazil, who are holding hands and smiling at each other, Australia, who taught me how to play briscola, and Adelaide, who actually only lives a street away from me. Four days after I met them, I said goodbye, and it was hard. We exchanged names and emails, hugged, and they got on a train going south, while I waited for a train going north. One of the greatest things about my trip was the people that I met and travelled with, sat in stairwells chatting with, and share stories and laughs with. I won't ever forget these people, and I look forward to meeting them again - at my home or theirs. 

We got to Siliguri - the closest train station to Darjeeling - late at night, and then had to hop into a jeep for a three hour drive up a windy mountain road. Cue motion sickness. Cue me becoming so incredibly frustrated at getting motion sickness. When we finally arrived in Darjeelinig it was midnight and nothing was open. The boys wandered around for a bit, knocking on doors until we managed to wake someone up who could offer nine weary travellers beds.

We got up the next morning and explored the town a bit, but unfortunately for us, the whole town was striking - nothing was open and nobody was around. Luckily for us there was one small cafe - Sonam's - open for breakfast. And by open, I mean you had to knock on the door and squeeze through the tiny kitchen to find yourself a seat in the cosy dining room as the cafe was technically closed. Bless Soman and her husband for opening to feed hungry travellers. I highly recommend that you check out Sonam's if you're ever in Darjeeling - it has the best toast you will eat in India, the best hasbrowns, and some pretty decent coffee. After breakfast we found some kids playing a game of street cricket and sat down to watch. The next morning we got up at four am and headed for Tiger Hill. From a lookout you can watch the sun rise on one side, and the Himalayan mountains come into view on the other - it was amazing and worth getting out of a warm bed at four in the morning for. We walked back along the top of the mountains, through forests and little villages, past rows and rows of Buddhist prayer flags, and stumbled upon a Buddhist graveyard. It was a beautiful walk in the morning sun, and by the time we got back to Darjeeling we were ready to hit Sonam's for breakfast. 

After a nap (me) and cards (the boys) we headed down to The Happy Valley Tea Estate. The factory itself was closed - the picking season runs from March to November - and there were no women picking tea, but we wandered around the estate, through the plantations, and sat down to take in the view, which was incredible. We were sitting there for a couple of minutes before a voice behind us said 'Do you want to have some tea?', to which we all yelled back yes! A kind lady invited ('Come up to my house for the best cup of tea you've ever tasted') us into her teeny tiny lounge room-cum-shop and set some water to boil to make us a cup of tea. After a lovely chat with her about all things tea and a cup of Darjeeling tea (tick that on off the bucket list!), we headed back out into the plantation and the boys started a game of chess that attracted the attention of a group of local kids, which was cute until one of the kids accidentally knocked the chess board over. On the walk back up to town we stopped and watched some fireworks - and Indian fireworks are insane! 

The next day we went to the zoo! After watching tigers sunbathe, a bear lazily watch the humans walk past, and some monkey's chase each other around we headed back into town for a lazy day and some thukpa - Tibetan noodle soup! We were on the move again in the morning, jumping into a jeep back to Siliguri and then onto a train bound for the North Eastern states.

Rebecca.

THE HOLY CITY. VARANASI.

Good evening Varanasi. Please remove your shoes. Walking through the streets of Old Varanasi. A temple in Old Varanasi. Looking along the Ghats a couple of stories up on the bank on the Ganga. Boats on the river. Mosque. Water buffalo at a ghat. Hitching a ride on a train to Allahabad. The train stopped, and everyone got off. Locky and Josh making friends with the locals while the train stopped. The Maha Kumbh Mela 2013 - the largest human gathering on a single day. On a boat on the river Ganga. The boys snapping on the bank on the river. Looking over at the ghats from the middle of the river. My feet in the river Ganga.

We took an overnight train to Varanasi - our first journey on the Indian Railway - and discovered that trains are the easiest and most comfortable way to get around in India. There are nine classes of ticket, from the most expensive first class AC (R4065 from Delhi to Mumbai) to AC three tier (R1790) to sleeper (R545). There is another cheaper option - general class tickets - that get you on the train if you can push your way onto the general coach. These are for the extremely brave or those who missed out on a confirmed ticket. We chose to book sleeper class tickets - they're cheap, you get to interact - using a few words and lots of sign language - with locals, and you get a bed. Chai wallahs can be heard making their way through the coach by their distinctive call, the samosas are R30, and you watch in amazement as local people walk past selling t-shirts, combs, keyrings, wooden crocodiles, hair ties, watches, anything you can imagine.

We stayed in Old Varanasi, a maze of winding narrow streets, temples and ghats, at Mishra Guest House. Some of the rooms don't have windows those that do have monkeys on the balcony, our toilet didn't flush, but the rooftop restaurant was served incredible food and had an amazing view, the staff were helpful and gave us a map, and it was budget friendly. You take the bad with the good in India, and you are over the moon when a room has blankets and a shower that works.

We spent our first afternoon navigating the streets of Old Varanasi - avoiding the cows, dogs and poo - and had a quick peek at the ghats before enjoying the sunset from the guesthouse rooftop. The next morning we were up early for a sunrise boat ride on the Ganga. A local fisherman rowed (you gotta give them credit because they do work really hard!) us down the Ganga to watch the sun rise and the people of Varanasi bathe, do laundry and pray in the early morning light. It was incredible. You really just have to do it. And it only cost R50. After the boat ride we took a walking tour of the old city with a local from the guest house. The tour was really cool - the guide took us to some of Old Varanasi temples and through a local's house up to a roof for a really cool panoramic view of the ghats. He then took  us to a silk factory, where we sat around uncomfortably while the store owner pulled shawls, scarfs and ties from the shelves and ignored us as we said that we didn't want to buy any silk today. It's awkward to the max, but as long as you stick to your guns and keep telling them that you're not going to buy anything (and don't!), it's alright. The tour was free, but we tipped him R50 each, because when someone tells you that something is free in India - it's not. After the walking tour, now that we were more familiar with the layout of the old city, we headed for the ghats for a look around. The ghat we wanted to see was the burning ghat, the primary cremation ghat in Varanasi, known locally as the Manikarnika Ghat. You know you're close to the ghat because you're surrounded by piles and piles of wood - oak, cedar, sandalwood. Then you notice the air is thick with smoke and the smells of burning wood, incense, and burning flesh. Once you're at the ghat you can see piles of wood smouldering along the bank on the Ganga, and if you look closely you can see a head or limb.   Photographs aren't allowed at the Manikarnika Ghat, but I don't need a photograph to remember what I saw that day. At first I was shocked to see human bodies burning, poked and prodded by a dom, but then I remembered that Hindu's believe through cremation they escape the reincarnation cycle, and that those whose remains are thrown into the Ganga after death are guaranteed a good afterlife. It was soothing watching the routine of the funeral ceremony, performed at the ghat by male relatives of the deceased - women are not present at the ghats for fear they will be overwhelmed with emotion and throw themselves on the pyre - before the pyre is lit and left to burn for six hours, and watching smoke rise, setting spirits free. I felt peaceful. 

Kumbh Mela is the largest religions festival in the world, and takes place every 12 years on the banks of the Sangam - where the Ganga, Yamuna, and Saraswati merge. We were only a three hour train ride away from Allahabad, where this years Kumbh Mela was held, so we hopped on a train to check it out. It was incredible. When you approach the area all that you can see for miles and miles is tents. We weren't there on one of the main bathing days, but there were still so many people around - Babas smoking their pipes covered in ash, swarmi's preaching to their captive audiences, and people bathing in the Sangam. I won't pretend that I know what was going on, and I'll be honest, I didn't learn anything about the Kumbh Mela by walking around the site, but it was incredible just to be there and to see it. We took a bus back to Varanasi, and had to split up on the bus to get seats. I sat next to a young guy and of course after staring at me for a couple of minutes he said hello. I said hello back and we had the usual conversation. What country are you from? I'm from Australia. Ricky Ponting, cricket, kangaroos. And then he said something to me, and all I understood was guru of love, and it was awkward. He got off at the next stop.

The next day, our last in Varanasi, we took a boat (a nice family let us hop in theirs for a good price) to the other side of the Ganga to have a look around. It's a beautiful sandy riverbed that's underwater in the monsoon. We wandered around and took some snaps looking back at the old city, and Josh, who we'd been traveling with for a couple of days, bathed in the river, but after reading in the morning newspaper that the bacteria levels in the Ganga were 120 times higher than the 'safe' level (the safe level is still dangerously dirty!) I wasn't brave enough for that. We headed back to the guesthouse to pick up our backpacks and made our way to the train station for our train to Darjeeling. It was seven hours delayed.

Rebecca.

INDIA: RISHIKESH

Welcome to Lakshman Jula, Rishikesh. A cow drinking from a tap on the side of the road. Hindu God Vishnu. The canyon swing platform to the right of the picture. Cool lights at The Little Buddha Cafe. Me sitting under a 'hat'. A candlelit dinner. A cute cup of chai. A cute diary cum journal. And writing in my journal. Over a cup of chai. My travel buddy writing in his journal. The guesthouse dog - he shared my toast in the morning. Cows, disregarding the rules. Bananas. At the back of a (very bumpy) local bus to Haridwar - even the locals were laughing at us.

We headed south from McLeod Ganj to the small town of Rishikesh, located in the foothills of the Himalayas. It's known amongst backpackers as the yoga capital of the world and is a notoriously chilled out town. We were there for the adventure sports.

To get to Rishikesh we first had to get to Derradun. We got there. At a ridiculous hour in the morning, and had to sit at a cold, deserted bus station for a couple of hours until the first bus to Rishikesh. The bus from Derradun to Rishikesh was meant to take ninety minutes. We were there in thirty. My travel buddy and I were deliriously tired and the whole thirty manic minutes was a struggle between staying awake, and staying on the seat. Even though you're tired, on a bus that's driving way too fast down a road that (you're hoping) is going to your destination, you can't help but laugh. I did, and it felt good. At that moment it was the funniest thing in the world and nothing else mattered.

 After finding a place to say - The Bandari Swiss Cottage on the Highbank - we headed into town for breakfast. The German Bakery had an amazing view of Lakshman Jula and the bridge that links both sides of the town - I'd recommend it if you're ever in Rishikesh. It was this morning that monkeys went from cute to evil. We'd grabbed a chocolate croissant (R35!) to go after breakfast and were heading across the bridge to check out of the other side of town when a monkey jumped down from the bridge and tried steal the croissant! I was walking in front so all I head was the rustling of a paper bag and my travel buddy scream. Luckily my travel buddy managed to keep hold of it, and quickly shoved it in his jacket. After this I never ate or drank in public without first having a quick look around me for monkeys or asking my travel buddy to keep his eye on any lurking nearby.

Rishikesh was also the place I did something that I never ever thought I would do, and am still in awe that I did it. A canyon swing. Jumpin Heights is a twenty minute bus ride from Rishikesh, and I remember feeling oddly calm on the bus ride there. Once, you're there, and you've gone through all of the safety procedures and signed your life away, you have to walk down the road to the jump platform. You can't see it at first, but as you round a corner a yellow platform almost 300 feet above the riverbed looms from the cliff. It's bright yellow, you can't miss it. At this point I wasn't even thinking. I was beyond thinking. I was babbling away nervously to my travel buddy and this continued until we got to the jump platform. I jumped first. I can't remember why but I think it had something to do with the fact that if my travel buddy jumped first, I wouldn't have anyone at the top to talk me into it. I like to think it was because I was brave enough to go first. I don't remember a word the jump master said to me as they harnessed me in. More nervous babble. Then you're taken to the end of the platform (and you can see though to the riverbed 283 feet below) and sat down in a chair overlooking the canyon. Another jump master attaches a rope to your harness while another one checks what they do. In the video (I didn't get it and am regretting that now!) I have a super serious look on my face and nod alot. They them unhook the rope from the platform and you feel a massive pull on the front of your harness. There's no backing out now and at this point I'm numb. I'm not even thinking. The jump master leads you to the edge of the platform where your toes hang over the edge. All you can see at this point is the riverbed below and it looks like it's a long way down. The jumpmaster asks me if I'm ready and tells me that he'll say one, two, three, swing, and on swing, I'll jump. I look over at Toby (one of the guys who brought Jumpin Heights to India) and ask if I'm going to be okay. He nods. One, two, three, SWING. And I'm falling. And falling. It's the hardest feeling to describe. It's a couple of seconds of falling with all of those g forces pushing on you. I couldn't even scream. I couldn't do anything. Then the rope catches you and pulls you into a swing. And I catch my breath and scream. You can hear it echoing through the canyon in the video. Suddenly my heart has stopped beating a million miles an hour and I'm thinking again. I'm swinging in the middle of a beautiful canyon in India and I'm having the time of my life. There are two guys waiting to unhook me at the bottom of the river and once I have two feet on the ground one of them pulls a badge from his pocket and hands it to me. I have something for you, he says. I've got guts!, is what the badge says, and I proudly pin it to my jacket. I can't stop smiling as I sit on a giant rock in the riverbed and watch my travel buddy get harnessed in and jump. He's lowered down and is unhooked and looks at me and says 'I didn't think you'd jump'. I didn't either. We then have to trek up the side of the mountain to the Jumpin Heights base, where we watch the videos of our stunts. I cry from laughter at myself, screaming, hair whipping around my face on the flying fox, and we laugh at how we look just before we jump off the platform.

I also did a bunch of other (really awesome) stuff in Rishikesh. Like: went white water rafting in the Ganges, flew down Asia's longest flying fox, ate at The Little Buddha Cafe every day, walked around an ashram, got trapped in our hotel room by monkeys, and hitched a ride on a local guys motorbike.

If you're ever in Rishikesh head to The Bandari Swiss Cottage and ask for Deepak. He's an awesome local who can help you with absolutely anything and will speed past you on his motorbike, skid to a stop and say 'hello sir' and let you hop on the back for a lift back to the hotel.

Rebecca.