As anticipated, the cold that struck Michael before we got to Shimla has caught me. It hit me the night before we left Shimla and I spent the last afternoon there snuggled up in bed with a burning fever. Thankfully that passed by the time we reached Delhi, but I’ve had the sniffles and cough to contend with. I think the worst of that was yesterday as I don’t feel too bad now. I think it’s hit Michael worse than me (things do tend to hit harder when one is older!).

One of the things I said I would do when I came to India, was to have something tailored for myself. I know it’s not the cheapest holiday souvenir, but bespoke tailoring here is a lot cheaper than in the UK. I did my research before we arrived and handily there is a tailor in Khan Market, just a short walk from where we’re staying. I had made an appointment for 7pm yesterday, so that’s where we headed after we’d settled into the hotel.

When I say a short walk, it’s literally turn right out of our hotel, walk five minutes and you reach Khan Market. It’s a very strange mix of Knightsbridge/Notting Hill with a few cheap ‘tat’ shops and some small grocery stores. It’s the kind of place you could spend 100,000 rupees on a sari and also pick up some onions. There are a few familiar brands in the mix including a Body Shop, Pret A Manger and a Starbucks. The tailors I’d found is called Grover’s.

I’d been thinking about what I’d like to have made as we have travelled around India. I pondered a shirt, but as I’ve already purchased some of those this trip I thought maybe something a bit more structured. I settled on a blazer, a linen one in green. The staff were very attentive and showed me a few different green linens – but I knew straight away which one I liked. The man serving said the colour I’d chosen was very on trend at the moment. I replied, that’s me – on trend!

My measurements were taken and a little sketch was drawn up for the tailor to follow. It’ll be single breasted with a slim fit. I had to choose the lining fabric too, I chose a dark purple. They will make up the jacket ready for a final fit tomorrow night (Saturday), then it will be finished and delivered to my hotel late on Saturday. Just like that a bespoke tailored linen blazer in three days! It’s a good job I saved all that air in my bag!

Today is Valentine’s Day. Cupid must have sent my card to Bristol (something to look forward to), but I did get a bar of vegan chocolate later in the day. When I was planning our trip I was hoping to visit Amrit Udyan the garden of the Indian President. It’s only open a few weeks of the year – usually around this time – but the tickets didn’t become available for us to book until we got to India. I was pleased to book tickets for 10am today – plus they were free!

Reaching the garden turned into a bit of a saga. Google maps said it would take 35 minutes via the metro and a short walk. What Google maps hadn’t accounted for was the strict security surrounding the parliamentary complex. There were roads we couldn’t go along without a pass so were sent round another way. Just as we thought we were getting close the police block said we couldn’t get through and said we had to go all the way back round we’d come and further. Defeated (and now running late for our 10am slot) we grabbed a tuk tuk who dropped us right by the entrance – gate 35.

Getting through the security was also a faff. First they said Mike couldn’t take his ruck sack in so he had to go back to the cloak room. They said my small man bag was allowed so I went through the x Ray machine, metal detectors and frisking, only to get to the second security check to be told my bag had to go into the cloak room too, grr. This was starting to wind me up. Then we realised that we were not the only ones visiting the garden today. There were thousands – yes thousands of Indian school children all being marched in rows. I didn’t expect we’d have the garden to ourselves but this swarm of school children being frogmarched in a continuous line wasn’t really how I’d imagined us visiting the garden. 

we both wandered the ‘one-way’ route around the garden (if you don’t count the 10,000 school children who found us quite a curiosity). 

If you blocked out the snaking line of children, the garden was quite pleasant. The key feature was the hard landscaping of pools, canals and lotus flower fountains (that were working!). The sunken beds were similar to the other gardens we’d visited. An odd throwback to English gardens from the middle of the last century. Block planting of violas, pansies, sweet Williams, lillies, roses and tulips. The tulip were just at their prime and stood out. Planted in such order I suspect a ruler had been used to space the bulbs out.

From the so-called Mughal garden, we went along through the rose garden (more block planting of single rose varieties), until the route culminated in the sunken garden or butterfly garden. This was a masterpiece of block planting, and although not to my taste, I couldn’t help but be impressed with the blaze of colour. In the centre was a large pool and fountain topped it off.

We exited the garden and agreed that the walk to the India Gate would be too far, so decided to get a tuk tuk. The driver wanted 300 rupees but Mike masterfully bartered him down to 200 – which was handy as that was the lowest denomination note we had!

We have arrived in Delhi, India’s capital city, and despite our fears about the pollution, so far it feels better than some of the other cities we have visited – at least we can’t taste the pollution in our mouths as we could in Jaipur!

We arrived at New Delhi station at 3.30pm, bang on time. It’s a large station, so it was a bit of a walk along an elevated walkway to the metro station. Delhi has an extensive metro system so we have purchased three day travel cards for about £5 each. I didn’t really fancy walking lots when I read about the poor air quality here. The metro will get us to most places we want to be very efficiently.

It was just a short 20 minute ride with one change from yellow to violet line before we arrived at our hotel. Handily the metro stop is just around the corner from the hotel. The Ambassador is a historic 1930s white painted building with lovely curved balconies on the front. It’s arranged in a triangular shape with a domed central dining. Initially they gave us room 403, but this was on the outside facing the road and Mike was not happy with all the traffic and tooting noise, so they agreed to move us across the corridor to room 404, which faces inwards and is much quieter.

They have refurbished the hotel in a sensitive way so it’s modern and comfortable but has retained a 1930s character. The furniture in our room is beautiful wood with a deco 30s sunbeam design in marquetry. The design is repeated on the headboard. The bathroom is equally luxuriously decorated with white marble and an oval bathtub.

In front of the hotel is a large square lawn – it’s named the ‘Lutyens Lawn’ after the British Architect who designed New Delhi. The whole place feels a bit like a set for a Poirot murder mystery – hopefully there will be no mysterious affairs at the Ambassador!

Well this is nearly it for our train travels across India. We’ve caught our final Indian Railways train from Chandīgarh to New Delhi – a short trip of just under three and a half hours. Our car driver collected us from the hotel in Shimla this morning and dropped us off at Chandigarh railway station. The train departed at 12.05, but we were there by 11.30 so plenty of time to find our platform.

Like many of the stations we have been through on this trip, Chandigah is being rebuilt. It looks like they have nearly completed the large new terminal building, but the construction of new over foot bridge is continuing. The lack of health and safety is pretty remarkable. The passengers wandering along the platforms alongside half constructed columns with steel supports sticking out – without any barriers between them. As for the construction workers, although most are wearing hard hats, they are also mostly wearing flip flops! I think my health and safety colleagues would have a funny turn at the sight.

As it’s only a short journey we’re in a seated air conditioned first class carriage. It’s comfortable, but not like one of the brand new carriages we travelled in from Udaipur to Jaipur on. Shortly after leaving Chandigarh the train staff started serving lunch – a spicy tomato soup to start, followed by a vegetable curry with dhal and chapatti. There was also ice cream on offer as a desert, but sadly not vegan ice cream so we declined that.

When we were doing the tour of the secretariat  building in Chandigah a few days ago I was chatting to a young Portuguese women about the Indian trains. She had tried to book the trains herself before they arrived in India – it’s not possible to just turn up and buy a ticket here. We compared notes on trying to use the (very frustrating) Indian Railways booking system. She had been unable to set up an account as it kept asking for her mobile number so it could send her a unique code – but it wouldn’t work with her European number. I felt proud that I’d managed to navigate the system and successfully set up an account (I think I used an email to get the code). What’s more I managed to book 12 train tickets for us, including five overnight trains, and remarkably they have all worked. A few of them ran a bit late, but we got to all of the destinations on our schedule on the right date.

I’m glad I booked us first class travel – although it’s not like first class travel in the UK. What we are generally paying more for is to have our own space, which on a 12 or 15 hour train ride, is very welcome. Apart from the first overnight train where we shared our cabin with a mother and daughter who disembarked somewhere at 2am in the morning, we have had our own two-berth cabins. It’s been funny when we’ve turned up at posh hotels to be asked ‘where have you flown from?’. I think they’ve been surprised we took the train as I think most of the growing middle class travellers in India would consider the trains a bit rough. They’re not entirely wrong, there have certainly been some train toilets I never want to see again, but all in all the trains have served their purpose and got us across this vast and extraordinary country on time and for a reasonable price.

The Cecil Oberoi is reputed to be the finest hotel in Shimla – I haven’t tried any of the others, so I can neither confirm nor deny if this is true. However, I can confirm that it is a very odd place indeed. 

The original part of the hotel was built in the late nineteenth century, it consists of a huge atrium, which was originally open to the sky, but now has a glass roof. Around the atrium are galleries, where the original bedrooms are situated. At the bottom of the atrium is a huge lounge with a bar at one end and lots of traditional sofas, chairs and coffee tables. A grand piano sits in the middle and in the evening the resident pianist tinkles away playing tunes from the 1920s and 30s. 

The atrium reminds me of one of those that might be in one of those huge ocean cruise liners. All the fittings are in mahogany wood and gold, giving it a touch of the ship Titanic or perhaps the Queen Mary. It could also be compared to the Marie Celeste as I don’t think I’ve seen more than a handful of people in it at anyone time! To be fair, this is probably because it’s not peak season for Shimla and it’s still quite chilly, I’m sure it’s fuller when the weather warms up.

The Oberoi hotel underwent a large renovation and extension at the end of the twentieth century, a whole new wing was added, which includes the dinning room, pool, spa, gym, activity centre, billiard room and library and a block of new rooms (that includes ours). Given the hotel is on top of a steep hill, the additional block is quite strange to navigate. From the entrance lobby to get to our room we descend a grand staircase, then take a lift up two floors. To go the pool we go down the lift two floors then down another grand staircase, to the spa and gym, keep going down two more flights. It’s all decked out in wooden columns, panelling and gold, with potted ferns and potted aspidistras. Navigating the extension feels like entering the Crystal Maze ‘Edwardian Zone’.

From the entrance lobby, the restaurant is found at the bottom of the grand staircase. Before entering the restaurant there’s another ‘country house style lounge’ with tables set up to play chess and a real fire – one of the staff was attempting (unsuccessfully) to light the fire last night, holding newspaper over the opening to get it to start – but it wouldn’t. It is cold out, but it’s not that cold in the hotel, so it must have just been for effect.

The dining room is where we find most of the guests – almost entirely old, retired, white Brits. Watching people over breakfast this morning was hilarious. I suspect most of them have come here to find a little bit of England, and to be fair, it does look the part. But clearly the food and service are not like they have a home. I heard one couple trying to order a cup of tea – they just wanted tea, not to be offered a choice of Darjeeling, English Breakfast, Earl Grey or Ceylon.  They want PG tips – and for heaven sake, not warm milk!

When offered the breakfast menu the older couple on the table opposite us almost turned pale when they saw the Indian breakfast specialities. I was quite enjoying my potato doughnut with a chilli dhal and coconut chutney, but I half expected them to speak the line from the film Shirley Valentine and ask if they could just do them ‘egg and chips’.

We have most certainly landed in the ‘colonial club winter retreat’. Thankfully we’re only here for one night before we head to Delhi for a final few days. I’m quite looking forward to being back in a big cosmopolitan city, but Mike isn’t looking forward to the pollution. Delhi is infamous for the smog. Unfortunately he has picked up a nasty cold, and I think I might be getting it next, so the thought of breathing more muck when the cold makes it difficult to breath isn’t something to look forward to. 

There’s a small pharmacy next to the hotel, so I’ve purchased some cold and flu medication – well I hope that’s what it is, are as unlike a UK chemist where all the drugs are boxed and branded, here the pharmacist just puts some silver packaged pills in a paper bag – we could be taking anything! If the pills don’t work, we could check into the ‘hospital and sanatorium’ which is next to the chemist, but as it’s run by the Seventh Day Adventists, I think I’ll pass and take my chances with the random pills.

The train climb to Shimla yesterday was epic. It felt like the climb would never end and the way the track would twist back on itself to wind along the mountainside seemed equally mad. Shimla is 2277 meters above sea level and the air is cleaner here than anywhere else we’ve been in India.

The view from our hotel bedroom looks out across the valley to more distant mountains. We’re so far north now that we’re not so far from the Indian borders with Pakistan and Nepal. On the map Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan and China aren’t that far away either. The temperature is a fresh 5°, and we might hit a high of 13 today, quite a contrast and certainly preparing us for our return to the UK – I might even dig my gloves out.

When we checked-in last night I was tempted to open the bedroom French doors onto our balcony to enjoy the view. However the hotel porter advised us to be wary of the monkeys. Sure enough, moments later a monkey climbed onto our balcony and started to tap on the window wanting to be let in! I think I’ll admire the view from inside. 

Our holiday in India is rapidly coming to an end – there are just five days before we fly back to the UK and return to normal life. We’ve been looking back at all the places we’ve visited and it’s remarkable just how far we have travelled in this vast country from east to west, south to north. Before we head back to Delhi, we’ve a bit further north to go towards the Himalayas.

We’ve taken the Himalayan Queen ‘toy train’ from Kalka to get to Shimla. It’s a narrow gauge railway that climbs, and climbs, and climbs some more. The railway is a remarkable feat of engineering as it winds its way higher and higher – clinging to the edge of the mountain. The views are incredible down valleys and gorges. Almost as remarkable as the railway is the way towns and villages cling to the mountainside, its looks implausible that they don’t just slide down.

Our carriage is full of a mixture of tourists, some Indian and others from around the world. I think there are a couple of other Brits and an older couple behind us sound like they are from Australia or New Zealand. I overheard them say that they are staying at the same hotel we are at, so I’ll try and ‘do an Aunty Janet’ and find out about their life story. There is a large annoying man sitting across the aisle from me. Not only does he keep scrolling through social media on his phone with the volume turned right up, after he’d eaten his lunch I saw him scrunch up the packaging and throw it out the carriage window – disgusting.

When we reach Shimla we’ll be staying at the poshest hotel of this trip. It’s called the Oberoi Cecil. It was a tip off from one of my work colleagues. It’s the (even) more expensive brand of the Trident hotel chain we stayed at in Mumbai. It’ll be two days of rest and relaxation in the Himalayan foothills (pretty big foothills!) before we make our final journey back to Delhi where we’ll spend three nights before we fly home.

I didn’t feel like a run this morning, but I was wide awake by about 6.30am so I thought I would take another walk in the rose garden. It was just light and a bit nippy (about 10 degrees), fortunately the coats we’d left in our hotel in Bengaluru arrived at our hotel in Chandigarh yesterday, so I wrapped up well and headed out.

To reach the rose garden it’s a short walk from our hotel via a broad underpass. The underpass here is not like most UK underpass (i.e. dark, dingy, covered in graffiti and usually smelling of wee). This one is wide, the entrance is via a large stepped and sloping approach with a modern sculpture. All along the underpass artworks are hung as though it were an exhibition in a gallery. There were at least two small groups doing their early morning yoga. On the park side of the underpass I went up a ramp that is aligned with topiary animals.

As already mentioned, the rose garden is huge. There were already lots of people doing their early morning walk. It reminded me of UK friends Helen and Celia who usually meet up to go for a morning walk. The sun was up and although not warm it felt like an early cool summer morning to me, but amusingly all the Indian walkers were wrapped up in woolly hats and puffer jackets, I guess this is pretty cold to them.

The paths through the rose garden go round in interlocking curves so I wandered aimlessly admiring the blooms. In the centre is an oval pool with an enormous fountain. Chandigah has definitely won on the fountain front – they’ve all been working for a start. The jet on this one is huge, and we can see it from our hotel room shooting high above the tree canopy.

The park was set out as part of the original city plan and it is dotted with benches and also has unusual egg-shaped litter bins that swivel on a central axis for the refuse people to empty them. The swivel also makes it easy for others to access the content. The others in this case being two street dogs who were also up early scavenging for their breakfast. If I’d had any food with me I’d have put it down for them but alas I had nothing, so I left them to fend for themselves and headed back to the hotel for our final breakfast in Chandīgarh.

Three weeks in India and as a comparatively well off white European man I am still am not comfortable with being addressed as Sir (or Sir Mr Matthew) or waited on hand, foot and finger. In all the hotels we’ve stayed in there have been staff everywhere. It makes it very hard to do anything yourself. If I go to open a door, someone does it for me. Go to pick up my bag, someone’s got it for me. It all got a bit silly yesterday when I went to make some toast at breakfast.

I did at least manage to cut two slices of bread without anyone wrestling the knife and cutting board from my hands, but that’s where my involvement ended. As I approached the toaster and tried to insert the bread, a man appears and takes over. On insetting the bread he decides that the toaster isn’t adequate, so removes the toaster from the table and disappears with it. Another person appears almost instantly with another toaster. Man number one inserts the bread. After a short while a third man appears and decides the second toaster is still not up to the job. He removes my bread and goes off behind the counter to toast it on a grill. I stand there for about ten minutes until man number three returns with my toasted bread. I thank him and return to my table.

I sit down and look for a mini pot of jam on my table – but Michael has eaten the jam. All I am left with is mini jars of ketchup (yuk!) and honey (no thanks). I glance over to the other table to see if there is jam there. Almost instantly a woman appears, asks if I need anything. I say I’m looking for jam. she picks up the jar of jam from the next table, but rather than hand it to me she insists on opening it. She is quite slight and but stands next to me wrestling with the lid on the mini jam jar, which she can’t undo. I say ‘they’re quite stiff – shall I try’ but no, she will not be deterred. Breathless, and a bit red, she finally undoes the jam jar lid and passes it to me. I hold onto my knife with a firm grip determined to spread the jam on the toast myself!

I often used to visit Milton Keynes (MK) the new town in Buckinghamshire where my work head office was located until a few years ago. MK is quite unlike any other UK city as it’s laid out on a grid road system – in fact it’s famous for its roundabouts which are located at almost every junction. It’s also famous for being very green, as most of the sections within the grid are hidden from the road network by lots of trees and planting. It also has a famous sculpture of concrete cows.

Indian cities have lots of cows just casually wandering the streets. Chandīgarh is not like other Indian cities at all. There are no cows (not even concrete ones) but there are lots of roundabouts – just like MK, it’s built on a grid system with numbered sections In between. It’s also beautifully green with trees lining all the streets. And a series of big green parks called the lungs of the city, running right through the middle.  

After visiting the Rock Garden, we walked through the sections of the central gardens from the war memorial to the rose garden. It’s such a lovely central axis to the city and was being enjoyed by all sorts of people, walking or sitting on the many benches. Under the trees were a group of young women’s practicing a dance routing they were great.

The rose garden itself is enormous, apparently it’s the largest rose garden in Asia. It’s planted with hundreds of different varieties, each in a separate bed. It’s like how rose gardens in the UK were planted in the 1950s. Each bed had a plaque giving the name of the rose. It said in the guide that February is the best time to see the roses, before it gets too hot, so good timing on our part. From the rose garden itself was just a short walk under a large, well lit underpass with Indian music playing, to our hotel on the road opposite the rose garden. It might be the perfect spot for an early morning run – if I can get up early enough.

Most people come to Chandigah to see the modernist architecture. It was India’s first new city post independence and some of the main buildings were designed by the Swiss-French architect Le Corbusier. We did the architecture tour too, but before that we went to see the main reason I came to Chandīgarh – a pile of rubbish!

When Chandīgarh was being developed in the 1950s a local traffic officer called Nek Chand started to secretly transform a wooded area that he knew there was no plans to develop as it had been designated as a nature area. He collected discarded waste material from around the city and from a small shed he’d constructed in the forest, began to build a remarkable ‘garden’. He carried on creating it for nearly 20 years before it was discovered. To their credit, the local government recognised it as an amazing creation. Rather than bulldoze it, they actually started to pay him to continue his creation. The garden was eventually opened to the public so everyone can now enjoy its secrets.

It’s certainly not like any other garden in India, or elsewhere in the world that I’ve visited for that matter. We enter through a small low arch in a wall made of piled stones and concrete. Having to stoop down to enter adds to the sense of entering a secret world. The path takes us along narrow high stone gullies bringing us out into small openings with eclectic sculptures created entirely from waste. There are pots piled on top of each other to create  screens and fences of old fluorescent light tubes. Walls are covered in mosaic made from things like broken plates, cups, bowls and even bathroom suites. 

We were drawn along by the sound of water and we’d turn a corner to find a pool with a fountain or a small cascade tumbling down the steep stone sides. Atop the walls are small pavilions or houses – as though the garden were inhabited by an invisible – or very shy miniature population. Further along the paths we were confronted by huge walls of water tumbling down from great heights. The size and scale of the rock garden, created largely by one man at the start is quite remarkable. Although this isn’t a garden in the traditional sense with plants, the greenery is provided by the forest that envelops the rock garden – and which for so many years helped keep its secrets.

Towards the end we came to a third section of the garden that was built after the local government gave its support. It is larger with wider paths that lead to a big wide open space with a ‘fun mirror’ arcade and large arches with swings hanging from them – a real pleasure garden. There’s a stage and amphitheatre for performances and a ‘rag doll cave’ a sort of modern day grotto.

The final part of the garden is a whacky arrangements of sculptures of people and animals all made of concrete and mosaic of broken waste ceramics. There are hundreds of them. Row after row of little men, women, deer, cats, dogs and numerous other real and fantasy creatures. We absolutely loved this garden – it’s almost worth the trip to India alone. I’d highly recommend it (even without a concrete cows). 

The last time I went on any sort of religious pilgrimage (unless you count Eurovision) was in May 1982. Pope John Paul II was at the height of his popularity and on his ‘rock star’ tour of the UK. He held a huge outdoor mass at Bagington Airfield on the edge of Coventry, where I was born and raised. The pope’s mass was a big event in Coventry – particularly for our street where just about everyone bar our house were Irish Roman Catholics (because we lived near a Catholic school). On the day of the mass we joined with everyone else to walk the five miles to Bagington. There were thousands and thousands of people descending on the site – but even that had nothing on Varanasi!

Just as Tundra Junction had been, Varanasi station was rammed. There were crowds everywhere with people arriving and departing having been on, or heading to, pilgrimage. We took a tuk tuk as far as we could, but most of the roads close to the river had been closed to vehicles – although there were still motorbikes and pedal rickshaws ploughing through the packed streets.

If I’m honest, the whole experience for me was quite unpleasant. It was a human scrum and although there were police on junctions blowing their whistle and waving their arms around, I don’t think they were making any difference. I was sandwiched close to Mike and was holding his back pack very tight as I thought if I lose him we’ll never find each other again.

As several roads converged, it went from being very crowded to a crush. It was scary. We could see how a stampede could easily happen and there’d be no way of stopping it. If anyone had fallen over they’d have been trampled underfoot. Somehow we managed to get to one side and took refuge inside an open fronted perfume shop. At one point the shop seemed to be filling up. I did slightly panic that we might get crushed to death inside this store – but then I thought, at least I’ll smell nice when they find my body!

We eventually followed another woman out of the shop and into the scrum shuffling our way forward until the crowd eased a little and then we were on the ghats (steps) on the banks of the river Ganges. The river was almost as crowded as the streets had been. There were boats full of pilgrims everywhere and on the edge of the water pilgrims were bathing themselves head to toe in the sacred waters of the Ganges. It looked pretty brown water to me, there was no way I was going near it let alone in it.

The whole sight was quite extraordinary, I can’t say I liked it though and I wasn’t overcome with any sense of spiritual awakening either. However, it was certainly working its magic on the thousands and thousands of pilgrims who’d traveled from across India to be here – and as they say ‘whatever floats your boat’.

We watched a while and took some photos before we started the return scrum back. It wasn’t quite so bad going the other way. We thought we’d better hunt some food for our long overnight train journey (the last sleeper train on our trip). We asked a tuk tuk driver to take us to where there were a few ‘malls’ (a general term for shopping areas, not the kind of Mall we have in the UK). The driver said it would be 500 rupees which we knew was an inflated price so we said no and walked instead. 

It wasn’t a long walk, but it was really horrible as the pollution and noise of beeping horns was vile. We could taste the fumes in our mouths and it made us cough, Mike is still coughing several hours later it’s that bad. We eventually found a small grocery store and then a curious supermarket called Spencer’s – think Farm Foods meets Primark with a bit of B&M thrown in for good measure! We got enough snacks to sustain us through the night and then took a tuk tuk back to the station. Our elderly driver was the slowest tuk tuk ride we’ve ever had, I said to Mike this is like ‘driving Miss Daisy’ as we sedately progressed through the crazy traffic.

Back at the station we paid 20 rupees to sit in the air conditioned waiting room with power. It was just over an hour until our final overnight train. Not wanting to be late I made sure we were on the platform well before the departure time. I’d only just worked out that the railway train tracker website also tells us the order of the carriage numbers so using this I estimated where our carriage would arrive on the platform. There are meant to be helpful little screens announcing the arrival point on the platform for each carriage but annoyingly these weren’t working.

The train was running late, but when it finally arrived it threw me as the name on the side of the carriages didn’t match the name of the train on my reservation. Also I was looking for a blue carriage as I thought that’s what A1 carriages usually would be. I thought our carriage had passed us and that we must be at the other end of the platform. I charged off Mike trying to keep up behind. I got to near the end of the train but no A1. There was a guard, so I asked him, he confirmed it was the right train but A1 was at the other end (where we’d come from) – Arghhh!

Knowing there were minutes before departure I charged down the platform pushing people out of the way, glancing back to see if Mike was keeping up (barely). I got to A1 with moments to spare bundled my bags on and looked back willing Mike to catch up. He made it just – phew! We collapsed into our two berth cabin, relieved not to have missed our train. I was dripping with sweat, I took off a few layers and lay down on my bunk to decompress.

The overnight train was one of the noisiest we’d been on (passengers not the engine!), and staff kept disturbing us to clean the cabin, try to sell us snacks, ask for dinner choice, bring dinner, clear dinner! It all added up to a not very tranquil night’s sleep. I think I grabbed a couple of blocks of 2-3 hours. We had to be awake at 5am to change trains at Ambala Cant junction for the final short stretch to Chandīgarh. I’m writing this on the connecting train. I will be very pleased to get to Chandīgarh (est arrival time 7.30am) and check into our hotel. I need a shower and my clothes are so grubby after the last few days of dirt and dust in Jaipur, Agra and Varanasi so some laundry needs washing too. We should arrive in time to freshen up and have breakfast before a day of sightseeing in India’s modernist city designed by (among others) the famous  Swiss-French modernist architect Le Coubusier. 

I’ve been planning this trip over the past year, but despite my meticulous research and a detailed spreadsheet that includes the itinerary of where and when we’ll be visiting, there have been some remarkable coincidences that I hadn’t planned for. There was flower shows in Chennai and Bengaluru, then there was the pride parade and the India vs England Cricket match in Mumbai. However, by far the biggest event that our trip coincides with (which I had no idea about when planning it) is the Kumbh Mela religious event.

Kumbh Mela is one of the largest Hindu religious events on earth. it’s an especially sacred and religious Hindu festival, celebrated in India. it’s the revered Hindu festival that dignifies the Hindu faith, jam-packed with cultural and ancient values. Truthfully, it says that Kumbh Mela is an example of unity among diversity. The Kumbh Mela rotates between four pilgrimage places on four sacred rivers, at Prayagraj (Allahabad) at the confluence point (Triveni Sangam) of the Ganges, the Jamuna, and the mythical Sarasvati, at Haridwar on the bank of Ganges River, at Ujjain on the Shipra, at Nashik on the Godavari river. 

When deciding where we’d visit, I didn’t initially plan for us to visit Varanasi. I was aware that this city on the banks of the Ganges is a very holy place and it’s where many people are cremated due to its holy significance. I was also aware that the Ganges is very polluted (maybe related to the burning of over 40,000 bodies by it each year). The water is considered so toxic that they can’t even use it to irrigate crops. Spiritual it may be, but it also sounds pretty grim to me, so not high on my wish list of places to visit. It was only because Michael thought we should visit that it was squeezed onto the schedule – and I mean squeezed in. We arrive early on an overnight train from Agra and we depart on another overnight train to Chandigarh. We have a day in Varanasi.

When we realised that our day trip to Varanasi just happens to coincide with one of the largest religious festivals and pilgrimages, it has made us a little anxious. Not just us, our Indian friends Vaishakh, Bharath, Shubhi and their friend Amruta all queried whether it was a good idea to visit right now as it will be very busy in Varanasi. I did look at whether we might be able to change our plans and take a train directly from Agra to Chandigarh, but there was no availability so we decided we’d stick to plan A.

We didn’t really get a sense of how busy the Kumbh Mela is going to be until we arrived at Tundra Junction station from Agra to change onto our overnight train to Varanasi. The station was very crowded and there seemed to be lots of chaos whenever a train arrived that was headed in the direction of Varanasi. We had booked berths in a first class sleeper car, and I could see on the Indian Railways website that our train was running late. 

We weren’t sure what platform or where on the platform (the trains are unbelievably long) our carriage would be. I asked a porter, although he spoke very little English he looked at our ticket and took us to a waiting room and through a few words of broken English and hand signals, he managed to tell us our train was 30 minutes late and to wait there until 9pm before going to the platform. We obeyed, I went and found some salted crisps and bottled water – a delux vegan train tea for us, and returned to wait with Michael.

Anxious British travellers that we are, we got to 8.45pm and decided we should head to platform 5 where our train was due to depart. We got as far as the ‘over foot bridge’ as they’re quaintly called here and stopped to see what information about our train would appear on the electronic display. As we peered down onto the platform we were aghast at what we could see. There was already another train on the platform and a human scrum was taking place at every door as people pushed and shoved to try and get onto the carriages. We stood looking down as two train came and went and the same performance  repeated itself.

The platform was rammed, there were groups of women wearing beautiful saris sat on the floor all up the platform. Our train had still not arrived and given the pandemonium we’d seen we thought we’d better at least try and position ourselves on the platform close to where our carriage would arrive. We pitched on the forward end of the platform as that’s where most of the first class carriages we’ve caught have departed from. It was very crowded and I said to Mike ‘do you think they might storm first class?’ – I sounded like a character from an EM Forster novel!

It was at this point our porter friend reappeared and barking a few words neither of understood, he beckoned us to follow him. He clearly knew our late (and getting later) train was going to switch across to adjacent platforms from 5 to 6 (not over the bridge fortunately – that would have caused a stampede!). He also knew we needed to be at the opposite end of the platform to where we’d been standing. Another train pulled in – he indicated this wasn’t our train, so we stood back and watched another round of human train scrum carnage unfold.

Shortly after our train started to pull into platform 6. The porter urgently beckoned to follow him as he started to run alongside the train by the door to H1 – our carriage. I kept up but was worried Michael, with his bad foot, was lagging behind. Fortunately the train soon came to a halt. The crowd swelled, I was right by the door and the porter pushed me from the platform as a first class train porter pulled me from the carriage end. I looked back and Michael was four of five people behind the crowd. I shouted to him to push and hollered to the porters ‘get him, get him’. The porters literally dragged Mike through the crowd as they beat off the others trying to board the carriage without a ticket. We were aboard, but I think we were both in a state of shock.

I’d had a call from brother Philip earlier today to tell me the sad news that my uncle Pete (my dad’s brother) had died yesterday. He was in his 70s and wasn’t the healthiest of men, but he wasn’t at death’s door either, so it was a bit of a shock. A bit of me is thinking that Pete is looking down chuckling at tonight’s train saga and maybe sent a guardian porter to help us. We are now safely ensconced in our (locked) first class cabin. There are four porters and a train guard in this carriage so I think we’ll be safe tonight – but goodness knows what Varanasi will be like!

We went to bed early(ish) last night as we knew we’d be up at 5am for our sunrise visit to the Taj Mahal. It wasn’t so easy to get to sleep though as there were fireworks going off and lots of music and noise combing from somewhere outside. On our way back to the hotel last night we’d bumped into a loud mini-parade of something with lights, music and men on horses. It was like the Bridgewater carnival had come to Agra. We asked at reception if it was a particular festival. It’s just wedding season was the reply.

The alarm went off at five and I dragged myself out of bed, showered and dressed. Mike followed shortly behind. We were out of the hotel by 5.30 to walk to the East Gate of the Taj. As we’ve mentioned previously, the pavements here are shocking, add in no street lights and they are a virtual death trap. We carefully made our way along the side street our hotel is on until we reached the main road which was lit. The main road down to the Taj East Gate is probably one of the best paved streets we’ve encountered, but even then I managed to trip up twice (fortunately maintaining my upright position on both occasions). It really looked as though this street had been ‘done up’ for when India hosted the G20 summit of world leaders in 2023. As well as pavements it had very fancy street lights and trees planted all along.

When we reached the east gate the queues were already building. There are separate  queues for Indian and foreign visitors (or high value ticket holders as they called us). We joined and had to wait until 6.30am before they started to open the doors (30 minutes before sunrise). When they finally opened we then had to slowly shuffle through the most bizarre and chaotic security checks. Women and men had to go into separate queues. They had just four metal detectors (of which only two were working) and everyone was frisked after passing through the detector. Bags had to be put through the x-ray scanner, but there was only one. A security guard was literally pilling bags on top of each other and shoving them into the machine. One x-ray machine seemed totally inadequate for India’s top tourist attraction (visited by more than 3 million each year). I think that we’ve seen more x-ray machines at most of the Indian metro stations we’ve visited. 

After the bags came out, they were piled onto a table where security staff would randomly pick them off the pile and open every part, empty the content and check them. What was bizarre was that there was one side for women’s bags and the other side for men’s bag, but of course there was no way of knowing which bags belonged to who as they’d all been shoved through the same x-ray machine. My bag got pulled out by a guard checking the women’s bag. It had got tangled up with a women’s handbag so as he pulled that one out, mine went with it. I rushed around to the ‘women’s side of the table’ as she was reclaiming her bag (with mine still attached!). What was even more bizarre was that although they’d emptied her bags contents and checked it, they didn’t touch mine! We untangled the straps of the bags and commented on how chaotic the process was. Mike retrieved his bag from the men’s side (after it had been emptied and checked), then we were free to go through into the site. Mike wondered if USA presidents had to go through this, I suspect not.

It was nearly seven (sunrise), there had been a moment when i thought we’d be watching the sunrise over the metal detectors of the Taj Mahal, but fortunately we just made it to the main event. Despite there being hundreds of other tourists there, it was still magical (a definite pinch myself moment) watching the morning light on the Taj Mahal and seeing the sun slowly illuminate the beautiful white marble of the mausoleum. It went for a pale blue in the morning mist, to a warm white as the sun’s beams slowly fell across it. It was definitely worth the early rise.

We proceeded to don our shoe covers to climb the vast marble platform on which the mausoleum sits, and entered the Taj. No photos are allowed inside, and we shuffled around in a one way system. We’d seen beautiful images and drawings of the tomb in the Great Mughals exhibition in London last year, and here we were looking at the real thing – truly beautiful. I managed to miss the ‘no-photos’ sign and took a couple of photos of the sun falling through the lattice work into the mausoleum. after we’d exited and taken a few more photos as we traced our way back through the garden and bumped into Tom and Lilly near to the famous bench where Princess Diana had been photographed. Their friend took a nice photo of us to add to our blog before we bid our farewells and headed back to our hotel for breakfast.

As predicted the driver from Jaipur to Agra pretty much wiped us out of cash. We thought we had enough to see us through the day as long as the restaurant we planned to go to took cards. We took a tuk tuk from the view point to the restaurant and were pleased to see ‘vegan friendly’ proudly emblazoned on the sign. We went in and took a seat. The menu was good and they recommended some good dishes. It was then we asked if they took cards – no cash only. 

Ah. We only had around 700 rupees (not enough for our dinner). It was ok we thought as there were cash points nearby. Mike set off in search of the nearest machine – that’s where it all started to go wrong. As soon as he’d left I thought, bad idea. I should have gone. I had this sinking feeling in my stomach that told me Mike was going to have a repeat of yesterday’s stressful incident. I was right.

He was gone a very long time, the food came, he didn’t. Even the lovely restaurant guys were worried about him and offered to go and collect him in the back of their motorbike. Even if the ‘find my friend’ feature had been working accurately (it wasn’t the spot showing where Mike was kept jumping around), I thought Mike would never get on the back of a motorbike at home let alone here!

While I waited I was joined at our table by Tom and Lilly two young Brits who were travelling around India. It turned out they’d not set out together, but had met on way and were now a group along with another young women (she wasn’t feeling well so was back at their hostel). It was great talking to them and comparing notes on our travels – Tom had also been to Chennai and we agreed ‘what a dump’. On her return to the UK Lilly was planning to convert a van and go travelling with a friend in Europe, i was so impressed and a bit jealous, I’d not been brave enough to do anything like that when I was her age. Chatting to them helped ease my anxieties about Mike being ‘lost in Agra’. I was telling them about him and where he’d gone, and how I knew he’d be in a terrible state when he (hopefully) returned.

I finally managed to WhatsApp message him, then call him. It had (as if feared) been a ‘wild goose chase’ trying to find a cashpoint that worked, and he’d been unsuccessful and was now lost in Agra’s narrow back streets. Thank goodness he managed to find his way back to a main road on his own. I had passed my phone to the restaurant guys who spoke excellent English to try and help him find his was, but even they conceded he was lost! 

When he finally arrived at the restaurant he was not a happy bunny, and still had no cash. I asked the restaurant guys how much our meal was (more than we had), I thought we’d be doing the washing up. Thanks to the kindness of Tom we didn’t need to. He gave us 500 rupees, and wouldn’t let me transfer some money to him. He just said to ‘pay it forward’ – what a sweetheart. They finished their meal and set off before Mike realised what he’d done. I said we might see them in the morning at the Taj as that’s where they planned to be to see the sunrise. Sure enough they were and I was able to repay Tom his 500 rupees – but I’ll definitely be taking a cue from Tom and will ‘pay it forward’ to someone else in need.

We could have caught a train from Jaipur to Agra but I decided we should get a driver so that we could visit this extraordinary stepwell. I’d seen pictures of it and realised it was on route to Agra. It was (another) long and crazy drive – during which my eyes mostly remained firmly closed. It was worth it for the detour though. The Chand Baori step-well was beautiful and an impressive piece of engineering. The bright sunshine really highlighted the geometric patterns of the carved steps. This was one place I’d really wanted to visit on this trip and it didn’t disappoint.

We finally made it to Agra after a further 3 hour drive. Once checked in we arranged an Uber to take us to the Itmad ud Daula also known as the baby Taj Mahal. It was suggested to us by Amruta who had guided us around Mumbai, and what a tip. It was a stunning building set in a lovely garden by the bank of the river, a bit further along from the Taj Mahal. Alas the fountains and rills were empty of water here too. I’m wondering if there is a water shortage as the river was also very low – so much so that there were dogs wading through the low water level.

It was nearing sunset so we decided we Should take another tuk tuk to the view point across the river from the Taj Mahal. We booked one on Uber and were soon whisked off in an electric tuk tuk. It was a good call as the sunset was lovely and the Taj Mahal looked magical in the fading light. We’ve got 6am tickets to see the Taj at dawn so we’ll be able to say we saw the sun set and rise on the Taj Mahal, definitely another ‘pinch me’ moment. 

Last night in Jaipur we went on a frustrating hunt for a cash point. There was an ATM just a few shops down from where we were staying, but it wouldn’t give us cash. We soon realised that we needed to find an ATM with the visa/Mastercard symbol on it to be able to get cash out on our credit card. Most places we’ve been able to pay on our card, but our driver to Agra today needed cash and as our reserves of notes were low – we had to get some more money!

We set off for a Bank of India ATM that Google maps told us was just 15 minutes walk away. That isn’t far to walk – unless you’re in India, where walking anywhere is like doing all four zones of the Crystal Maze with a Tough-Mudder obstacle course thrown in for good measure. The alleged Bank of India ATM turned out not to be where Google maps told us it was. I examined the street view image and established it was in another building further down the road. We continued on – but it was still nowhere to be seen. In further examination of the map/street view image I realised the bank ATM was at the rear of the building. Round the corner we went. Success! We found it and withdrew the cash – although the whole experience had been quite stressful.

Cash in hand we decided to get a tuk tuk to the only vegan restaurant in Jaipur – it was about 15 minutes away. The driver of the first tuk tuk to stop had no idea where it was and he spoke no English, plus he had no headlights or rear lights on his tuk tuk. It was a big no-no from Mike “I’m not getting in that!”. Although the driver was hard to shake off, we firmly declined. We found another tuk tuk parked a little further up the street. The driver was sat in the back chatting to his girlfriend on his phone (who happened to be in London and turns out had visited Bristol 4 times). He wasn’t able to drive us but he rushed into his store and came out with his brother who duly agreed to take us.

He was a nice young guy who insisted we ‘pay him what we felt’ as ‘it was only money’. He was very chatty and intrigued why we were going so far for a restaurant. We explained we were vegan and that’s why. He was interested in what we did and didn’t eat. The journey was all going fine until we came up to a large island intersection and he stalled the tuk tuk! We were stuck in the middle of about six lanes of crazy traffic as he tried to restart it. I think he’d flooded the engine (he kept saying it was over full). He uttered something about him going to kill his brother (who’s tuk tuk it was). We were both hoping that he didn’t kill us first. Both Mike and I had visions of something ramming into the back of this stalled tuk tuk. We had everything crossed, willing the engine to restart. Fortunately he managed to get it going again and we crawled off – somewhat limping along until we got to the restaurant.

The meal was nice and the two guys who ran the restaurant were friendly, if a little surprised to see two white European guys turn up – or maybe anyone turn up as we were the only two people inside. After we’d eaten and paid we set back on the hunt of another tuk tuk back (we were shaken but not stirred by our latest near death experience). As we were further out of the city there were fewer tuk tuks around and we stood by the side of the road for a while waiting. Suddenly one pulled up. It was a six seater – two up front and four facing each other at the back. It already had three guys in it, but as we’d not had any other luck and the said they’d take us for R200 (about £2) we agreed and got in.

It was only once we’d set off that I realised just how dilapidated this tuk tuk was. The seats were stuck together with tape and as I glanced up, instead of seeing a roof there was part of a rusting sheet of metal flapping above my head. I crossed everything and carefully tracked the route home on Google maps on my phone to make sure we were not being kidnapped. They dropped us one station sooner than we had asked for and then tried to charge us R50 more than the agreed price (they didn’t get it), but I was just relieved to get out alive! I can see the appeal of an Uber over this!

We’ve spent our day in Jaipur sightseeing, first a short walk from our apartment to the Jantar Mantar – an extraordinary astronomical observation site. It was created at the behest of Maharaja Raja Jai Singh II in the 18th century. A man of science and astronomy enthusiast, Jai Singh II had five observatories built in different cities of India (that of Jaipur is the largest and best preserved of the five), in order to be able to precisely determine the position of the celestial bodies, which in practice it differed from that calculated theoretically.

The site is remarkably preserved and still works. It is amazing to think that so long ago with just the stars and planets to guide them they could calculate with such precision. The different instruments in the observatory are not only practical, but also quite beautiful. Their forms could almost be abstract sculptures.

Outside the Jantar Mantar, despite our protests, we once again found ourselves ‘kidnapped’ by a tuk tuk driver who wouldn’t take no for an answer. We said we only wanted to go to the Vidyadhar Garden, but as soon as he realised that we also wanted to visit the Amber Palace, that was it – he insisted on staying with us all day, and taking us on a few detours as well. 

The Vidyadhar Garden was in a striking setting, just outside Jaipur city in the valley of a rocky ravine. The garden is split into two parts, a smaller upper garden which at its head has a large ornate pavilion (housing a posh restraint). In front of this a pool with fountains (which sadly was empty and not running) would have led via a rill down the centre of the garden, around another open sided pavilion and into a lower pool (that did have water in it).

The second part of the garden was on the other side of a small car park. It was a similar arrangement following a central axis from one fountain pool via a rill to a lower fountain pool. The plants were sparse with just nearly clipped hedges, a few trees and grass lawns which they must water a lot to keep them green. It was a shame the fountains weren’t running as I’m sure that’s what brings the garden to life.

From Vidyadhar Garden, our hostage keeper – I mean tuk tuk driver, took us to the Amber Fort. It’s an enormous place, even though they only let tourists around part of it. The bit I really wanted to see was the ‘saffron garden’, that occupies its own island beneath the fort. It was a shame visitors weren’t allowed into the garden, but we had great views looking down on it from the fort – and they even had the fountains on! There was also a nice Islamic carpet garden inside the fort (sadly without its fountain working).

From the Amber Fort we really just wanted to go back to our apartment, but our driver had other plans. He insisted on taking us to a fabric block printing workshop just a little off the route home. We were shown round by the owner and saw fabric block printing in progress. Of course next we were ushered into the shop next where they tried to sell us block printed quilt covers, cushion covers, scarfs and shawls. I was very nearly taken by a made to measure shirt (for £20!) that they says they could make up in two hours and deliver to our hotel that evening. If it wasn’t for Mike not being ‘bothered’ by my choice of fabric I might have gone for it. Instead I resisted and instead purchased a souvenir scarf for someone. 

As we left the showroom we went to put on our shoes (it is customary to remove shoes when entering a building in India). I put my sandals on and the I heard Mike say ‘where’s my shoes’. While we had been perusing the wares, it appeared someone had taken a fancy to Mike’s shoes. A flurry of activity pursued as the owner rushed off to see if someone had inadvertently taken Mike’s shoes by mistake. I looked down at the remaining shoes and said ‘aren’t those trainers yours?’. He was adamant they were not. I looked at the trainers and thought, that’s odd, that’s how I tie my trainers. Yes, after claiming his shoes had been stolen, it was in fact Mike who was the shoe thief. After examining some of the photos taken throughout the day, Mike had been wearing my shoes all day and he hadn’t even noticed – even though they are a size bigger than his. Someone needs to go to spec-savers!

I can’t say it was the most relaxing night’s sleep, the bed was comfy enough but I woke up early worrying about breakfast. The thought of Mike without his morning coffee was not something I wanted to contemplate. Thankfully I had a ‘save the day’ thought. I remembered the app I’d used in Bengaluru to order the vegan cake and I thought, I wonder if that would work here.

Being ‘old’ and someone who tries to live a ‘principled’ life, I’m not one who uses the likes of Amazon or ‘uber eats’ or other similar fast food delivery apps back at home. I’m always concerned that the reason they are so cheap and so fast is that someone somewhere in the chain is being horribly exploited. That’s my main reason for avoiding them – but this situation was an emergency!

I logged into ‘Swiggy’ and searched groceries. I managed to add soya milk, jam, bread, cornflakes and Special K to my basket. I ordered two cereals as at 6.30am I was laying there trying to decide how many grams were in a regular cereal box. I had visions of one fun sized box of cornflakes between two hungry vegans. I thought better to be safe than sorry. I checked out only to be told the transaction had failed. 

I soon realised this was because the shop where the items would come from wasn’t open yet. I waited a while until it was, it worked! I watched the delivery time tick down 20 min, 15, 10, 8 etc. when it got to 4 I wandered out onto the street to wait. Sure enough a moped turned up with my bag of vegan goodies. I return to Mike who was still in bed to show him my swag – he was impressed (I’m sure this is one of the reasons he married me!). Boosted by my success in securing vegan breakfast (and my abandoning of all my usual principles) I moved onto a hunt for coffee. Twenty minutes later we’re supping on two Starbucks’ Americano coffees with warm soya milk! 

Please be assured my moral principles will return when I get back to the UK, it’ll be back to the local Co-op for last minute food emergencies then!

After the calm and tranquility of Udaipur, then the very civilized train journey, the noise and chaos of Jaipur has hit us like a punch on the nose. No sooner had we stepped off the train then the tuk tuk drivers latched onto us touting for business. I knew the metro would take us from the station virtually to the door of our accommodation so I declined politely. They persisted, I declined again but this time more firmly. They tried Michael next, he also declined – but in a more chatty way, which resulted in them saying he was polite and I was rude. What a cheek!

Once we’d dodged the tuk tuk drivers and the building work (it seems every station in India is being rebuilt at the moment), we got to the metro and in just three stops reached Chotti Chaupar station, just down the road from our accommodation. It’s right in the middle of Tripolia Bazar – and what a bazaar! All along the street are small stalls selling everything from fabric to sweets, coffee and tea, clocks, metal boxes and all sorts of building materials. Back home in Bristol our local high street has an amazing ‘little Aladdin’s cave’ of a hardware shop called Lion Stores. It reminded me of there – but on steroids!

I’d booked another Haveli, but thought it was a small hotel – but it turns out we have the whole place. A big apartment with 24-hour staff just for us! There is a hallway, dining room, sitting area, kitchen and an enormous bathroom with two double beds and an en-suite bathroom. It’s decorated like a maharaja’s palace (I think they got the same person who does taxi cab roofs to do the ceiling here). Michael said looking at it was giving him a headache. I suggested he could sleep with an eye mask on.

The apartment is very clean and spacious, but it’s a little awkward having a manservant who jumps to his feet every-time we walk into the room. He also calls us Sir. I’ve tried asking him to say Matthew but to no avail. The location is certainly what you could call in the heart of things. I think we had an idea that Jaipur would be a bit more like a historic city such as Bath – but more pink! In reality it a throbbing, busy place, the traffic is intense and it is pretty grimy – if it were a Farrow and Ball paint colour you’d call it ‘smoked pink’ or perhaps Intense Salmon!

After we checked in and did a few laps around our bedroom, we decided to follow a walk suggested in our guide book that starts virtually outside our door. It took us through back streets of the bazaar, past exquisite (if slightly down at heel pink buildings). Past scores of extraordinary fabric shops (I resisted the temptation to buy), stores selling everything you could possibly want (with the exception of vegan food). We ended up at the Hawa Mahal.

The Hawa Mahal is known as the “palace of winds“. Maharaja Sawai Pratap Singh built it palace in 1799. Hawa Mahal is considered to be unique as it has many small windows and balconies that seem like a honeycomb.

We joined the throngs taking pictures outside and then contemplated whether to pay the £2.20 entrance fee to go inside. Mike’s head was throbbing from the noise of Jaipur so we decided that at least going in would get us away from the street. We made the right call as, although it was busy, it was much calmer than the street. 

The palace is made up of many interlocking courtyards. The main one had a fountain at the centre, and it’s the first one we’ve seen working so far. It was attracting lots of attention from children delighted by its enormous spout of water that reached the height of the building before retreating into the pool. There were also couples and families posing for photos in front of it. 

We wandered around and climbed up to the front where we could get right behind the intricate honeycomb facade, peeping out onto the noisy street. We worked our way back down to the courtyard, realising that it would soon be sunset, and the best place to see that would be from the top. We raced back to the top just in time before the burning red sun disappeared below the mountains that surround Jaipur.

After we left Hawa Mahal we contemplated food. Thankfully we’d eaten well on the train, so weren’t very hungry, but as we are in a self-serve apartment, we needed something for breakfast. We contemplated getting a cab to a mall where there was a supermarket to stock up – but these were at least 20-25 minutes away. Instead we wandered around the bazaar seeking a store that might sell some cereal or soya milk. No joy. If we’d wanted metal pipes, locks, pots and pans, clocks, tea, nuts, ginger, chillies, detergent, cooking oil in huge tins, bangles, jewellery or fabric we’d have been fine – but no vegan food.

We were then accosted by two men who having complimented me on my ‘very fine moustache’ were very keen to tell us about the delights of Jaipur (I’m not entirely convinced). They told us there was an Elephant Temple just along the road and escorted us there. They were both art students and were very keen to show us their etchings (obviously in the hope we might buy some). We made nice comments about their art but politely declined to purchase (Mike needs to hold onto the air in his suitcase). 

We wandered back to our apartment, unsuccessful in our efforts to find food. We were both a bit jaded (Mike especially who hates the noise and hooting of Indian streets). Accepting defeat we made ourselves a cup of green tea and took to one of our two massive beds. Maybe we’ll try the other bed tonight too!

Our first train journey on the overnight train from Bengaluru to Hospete Junction was like taking a trip back in time. That train had clearly been around for a while. It was a pretty basic affair, perfectly adequate (although perhaps not the loo!) with folding bunks, air conditioning and power points, but it had a feel of the 1970s about it.

Catching today’s 07.50 ‘Vande Bharat Express’ from Udaipur to Jaipur we’ve fast forwarded through at least 50 train years. This is very much the Indian Railways ‘state of the art’ train. The doors are automatic with glass sliding doors between carriages. The seats have masses of leg room – like business class on an aeroplane (our friend Dave Hobson would be ok), and if you want, the chairs do a clever little trick. At the push of a foot pedal they can be turned from the ‘airline style’ forward-facing pair of seats into a four set (two facing each other) – yes, they can be spun round to face the other way!

The carriage has electronic display screens announcing the next station and other useful info in different languages (including English). There are recorded announcements telling us everything we need to know. There’s one announcement saying that when the train enters a ‘neutral section’ the power to the chargers may be temporarily interrupted. I was slightly worried this was something to do with Indian Pakistan relationships, but fortunately not. I guess it means the train is a hybrid, and that some parts of the route are not electrified. It goes on to advise that if you have an Apple device chargers you will need to up plug and reconnect to the power. 

There’s even an onboard ‘captive WiFi’ entertainment system – although captive seems to mean no-WiFi. There’s a choice of Telugu, Hindi, Tamil and English TV shows and music. There’s even some movies, however the English selection is somewhat limited, and I’m intrigued to find out who selected them. You’ve a choice of ‘The Child Bride’ (1938), ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ (1954), or ‘Attack from Space’ (1964)! While the train might have entered the twenty first century, the movie offerings haven’t!

I’ve already mentioned in our blog that Indian trains are wide (five chairs in a row not four like in the UK) – but it’s very noticeable on this new train. The carriage feels very airy with the neutral colour palette and LED lighting. There’s large glass shelf luggage racks overhead and each seat has an individual spotlight. The seat tables that are usually on the back of the chair are like airline style on this one and fold out from a little compartment between the chairs.

The best bit is the lavatory. After some pretty grim train loos, these are exemplary. There are both ‘Indian settle’ (thank you, but no) and ‘western style’ conveniences. They are clean, and – as announced on the electronic replays – have ‘bio-flush mechanisms’, so please don’t put anything you shouldn’t down them. They even have hand dryers (the first train we’ve been on to have them), so no need to wipe wet hands on our trousers.

As we’re travelling ‘aunty style’ (first class), on this train we’re waited on by a team of young stewards wearing near navy and pale blue outfits with a natty orange trim. We’ve already been served breakfast and although it’s only 11.30, they’ve started dishing up lunch already. It’s a two course affair, starting with a tomato chatpata soup (tomato soup with a spicy after bite). 

This was followed by a vegetable curry, rice, dhal and chapatti. I’m not sure we’ll need any dinner after all this food! In fact by the time we get into Jaipur (one more stop), we’ll probably need an afternoon snooze to let lunch settle!   

As British, when first experiencing Indian traffic, it’s a shock to the system. We have been on edge almost all the time, anticipating an imminent crash to happen in front of our eyes. We’re wondering ‘don’t they have any rules of the road?’ and ‘what are there road casualty figures like?’ (best not to check). Strangely after a few weeks, we have become more acclimatised to it – I mean it’s still terrifying, but it’s just a kind of the new normal! 

When we first attempted to cross the road in India, we stood at the edge of the road for ages waiting (sometimes for a long time) until what we considered a big enough gap in the traffic to appear, safe enough for us to cross. Now, two weeks in, I find myself stepping out into moving traffic, either confident or just plan crazy in the belief that nothing will hit me, even though it looks like they will. Fingers crossed, so far, I’m still alive!

In addition to taking a few death defying tuk tuk rides, we have also been in a few cabs. They are also rather scary as the drivers weave across lanes of moving traffic, undertake, drive in the wrong side of the road and hoot their horns as if it were going out of fashion. If watching the traffic chaos is too much, we can a) close our eyes or b) look up. I would recommend option b as there’s often a treat in store.

There seams to be a thing in Indian taxis that the ceilings of the cabs are covered in decorative patterns – such attention to detail on a surface that most people will never look at. Just think, out there somewhere there’s a textile designer whose job it is to prettify the ceilings of Indian cabs – what a job!

It’s been a brief but lovely visit to Udaipur, it was definitely worth the long train ride (and a bit of a detour) to get here. India is full of so many contrasts. We go from days that are intense, busy, full of noise and activity, to more peaceful, calm, and restful – Uidapur has largely been like that. Being beside the lake has been lovely – it’s true what they say, ‘life is better by water’.

After a day of sightseeing we had a little rest before we went up to the hotel’s rooftop restaurant terrace to watch the sun set over Lake Pichola – it was beautiful.

Later we went for an evening stroll to a little lakeside park surrounding a small temple just next to the hotel to watch the lights of the palaces reflected in the lake. It was a very pretty sight. Just as we got back to our hotel someone put a fireworks display on just for us! We literally stepped outside our hotel room to watch it. After a good nights sleep, we are ready for our next (not such a long) train journey to Jaipur – the pink city. 

Our boat trip from the City Palace to Jagmadir Island Palace took us right past our hotel. This is where we were eating our breakfast this morning!

We have most certainly arrived in Best Exotic Marigold Hotel territory. The Amet Haveli Herritage Hotel is an extraordinary beautiful rambling old palace. The place is dotted with small courtyard gardens, inviting stairways, rooftop terrace, and exquisite colonnaded verandas. It’s also pretty well appointed with older British tourists (we should fit right in!). From my bedroom window seat overlooking the courtyard I’ve already spotted a few women in the style of the characters played by Maggie Smiths (god rest her soul), Judi Dench and Celia Imrie.

Our breakfast was on a charming garden terrace under the shade of a large tree with a vista over lake Pichola. I think we’re definitely paying for the view and the setting as the breakfast was so so. They didn’t have soya milk, but to their credit a boy was dispatched and about 20 minutes later he returned with soya milk that he’d purchased from a nearby store. The coffee was yuk – instant – but I think I can forgive them as the magic of the buildings and surroundings here certainly seeps into you.

After breakfast we wandered around a bit, exploring the terraces and stairways, snapping pictures of the lovely views that they framed. We’re off to explore the City Palace (which we can see across the water from our hotel) and then take a boat trip on the lake. Today will be a lovely relaxing antidote to the mega train journey of yesterday.

It was dark when we arrived in Udaipur so we couldn’t make much out from our speeding tuk tuk, but we as we drew up outside the hotel, even in the dark we could tell it was a bit special. As we walked through the gate of this old palace we entered a courtyard. The main building rose up on one side, a white facade with beautifully decorative windows and balconies. Around the courtyard were some lower buildings and a decorative colonnade that opened into a garden. In the centre of the courtyard a fountain was running and lights lit up the space, it was magical.

After we’d checked in the porters carried our bags (we’re still not really used to this) across the courtyard and up some steps guarded by two carved elephants to a decorative wooden door – this was our room. A large white cube space with high ceilings and stone cauble holding up a roof beam. Through a decorative arch we enter the bathroom. Around the room there are carved recesses in the wall and at the centre sits a large bed with a carved wooden frame. A lovely window seat in a window juts out into the courtyard. When we woke this morning the sun was shining through the stained glass of this window. We’re only here for two nights but we shall sleep like princes while we are.

Arriving at Udaipur, it was clear that we’d travelled a lot further north. It’s not cold, but it’s certainly cooler than it has been – and we even felt a drop of rain as we stepped off the train. It’s about 18 degrees now (at 23:00) but is forecast to be 27 tomorrow, so when I say cooler it’s all relative to the 30+ degrees we’ve had in Mumbai.

The train station was about 7km from our hotel, which is in an old palace on the shore of lake Pichola. As our hotel is in the old town, the roads are too narrow for taxis, so there was only one thing for it – a tuk tuk. There were plenty to choose from at the station so we were soon loaded up and on our way for another death defying journeys.

We’ve had a few tuk tuk rides in India now – in Mysuru and Mumbai, and quite frankly they are mad. It’s like riding in an open sided Robin Reliant three wheeler with no seat belts and most of the drivers behaving as though they have an urgent death wish! Fortunately we navigated the narrow streets of the old town and got to our hotel safely, I recorded part of our journey for posterity.

The trains we’ve travelled on in India have been enormous, especially when we are used to only around eight carriages on average in the UK. Here there must be 20+ carriages with all different classes. It does make knowing where to board a bit of a challenge. On most stations they have these very handy electronic screens which say what the train number is, and then which carriage will be stopping at that point on the (very long) platform.

Today we had to change trains and only had a half hour turnaround which made me a bit anxious in case the train ran late. The overnight train from Mumbai arrived bang on time in Jaipur. As soon as we stepped off I was being hassled by men wanting to offer me tuk tuks. I explained I was catching another train, then they wanted to help me with my bags. I had to say no thank you very firmly before they left us alone.

We worked out what platform we needed to be on and arrived there just in time for our next train to pull in early. Unfortunately the screens telling us which carriage would stop where weren’t working. I parked Mike with the bags and walked all the way to one end of the platform to find our carriage, only to realise ours was at the other end. Thankfully because it was early there was plenty of time.

The last part of today’s very long train journey is in a seated carriage. Indian trains are wider than UK ones so the seats are arranged in 2 on one side of the aisle and 3 on the other. We found our reserved seats and settled down. After having separate cabins for our other journeys, it felt very lovely being in a cabin with lots of other passengers. 

They don’t have a buffet car on the trains, but instead you have food and drinks sales people passing along the carriage carrying  baskets of food – crisps and snacks, chocolate, Indian food, pizza and drinks – tea, coffee, chai, fruit juices. We predicted the vegan offering would be poor so stocked up our supplies before boarding. We’re due in at Udaipur at 21.50, then have to get a taxi or tuk tuk to our hotel. It will be nice to get off the train, we’re both a bit jaded and look forward to reaching our lakeside hotel.

We’d been warned to expect to be hassled when we came to India. As two white European men we stand out a bit. If I’m honest, I’ve not found the beggars to be any worse here than in the UK. Not that seeing anyone beg is pleasant, but the part that is really hard is when it’s painfully thin small children begging. It’s gut wrenching.

Aside from from begging, there is often general hassle at railway stations. At most of the stations we’ve arrived at we have been immediately approached by people offering their tuk tuk, taxi, hotel or a tour guide services. Unusually, it seems to be me they are drawn to. I thought that with Michael being blond, he’d be the one who’d get the attention – but it appears I have a feature that draws people to me. 

My moustache has been much commented on. I’ve lost count of the times that, after they have finished badgering me, they sign off with ‘very fine moustache Sir’ or ‘Sir, I very much like your moustache’.  It’s very nice to receive such compliments, not least because there are no shortage of fine moustaches here in India.

I’ve read that for generations of Indian men, a moustache has been a must. Throughout history, it was thought that the more fabulous your facial hair was, the more masculine you were (that’s me, I’m so butch!). Before the eighteenth century only high caste men were allowed to keep moustaches. So, moustaches were seen as a symbol of power. 

Back home my brothers make sarcastic comments about my moustache – well listen up brothers, here, my facial hair makes me ‘cool’ and ‘powerful’, so take some advice from me – go with the mo bro.

As soon as we stepped onto our overnight train to Jaipur (where we’ll change for (Udaipur), we could tell the carriage was a bit more modern than the previous ones we’ve travelled on. Gone was the heavily patterned decor, replaced with a muted pale blue palette. After a small confusion with cabins (they’d changed our numbers since I looked last night) we were pleased to find we were once again in a two-person couchette, so no sharing.

We were both tired after cramming so much into our two days in Mumbai so we pretty much crashed out and slept through until about 7am. When we boarded last night we were surprised to receive a knock on the door from a young boy (he’s a man, but looks like a boy!) in railway uniform enquiring as to whether we wanted veg or non veg breakfast and dinner. We hadn’t had any meals on our previous overnight trips, in fact we’d stocked up on snacks to keep us going on our long train journeys today (14.5 hours then 7.5hours).

Shortly after we’d woken, the knock on the door came and the steward asked if we’d like tea, we asked if he had black coffee – and it was duly delivered. This was followed by the breakfast tray – fruit, juice, bread, jam, dhal and a sort of vegetable porridge. We will wait and see what comes with lunch, but this train journey is turning out to be by far our most civilised one so far with our own little steward delivering cabin service. 

We realised yesterday that there was an India vs England Twenty20 match happening in Mumbai that evening. There were lots of noticeable England fans staying in our hotel (the Barmy Army as they are known back home). At breakfast I had even overheard one of them say something that implied the England team were staying in our hotel.

I’m perfectly happy to admit that I’m not a sports fan. I don’t follow any teams or participate, but Michael is very keen on cricket. Being a supportive husband, I have escorted him to a few test matches before (where I was laughed at by him for reading a garden magazine rather than watch the match with more interest). I thought that seeing a cricket match in India was something he’d really enjoy, so we decided we’d try and buy some tickets. It didn’t start until 7pm so we would have time to watch it before we caught a taxi to catch our 11.10pm overnight train.

As with everything else in India, you had to buy the tickets online. I got the site up and showed Mike the plan of the stadium with the available tickets as I wouldn’t know where the best seats to watch the game would be. He indicated which block he preferred, then I looked at the tickets. That’ll be £400 each!!! Yes £ not Rupees! I suggested a cheaper alternative, which we agreed on. Tickets were purchased and they were to be couriered to the hotel later that day. Strange that having been forced to buy them online, they weren’t sent as e-tickets, but there you go.

When we returned to the hotel later that day it was clear something (or someone) was a foot. They had cordoned off part of the lobby and crowds were gathered behind the tape, phones clutched in hands ready to catch a photo. Sure enough, the rumour turned out to be true. The England cricket team were in our hotel. It was a bit of a wait but eventually they emerged from the lift to board their coach to the ground (which was only a 15 minute walk from the hotel). I took some picture but I really have no idea who any of them are. There were an American couple stood next to me and there conversation could have summed up me. One said ‘well I guess they must be famous’ and the other replied ‘yep, and they do look quite sporty’.

Tracking down our ticket delivery turned into a faff. Reception said they weren’t there, they sent me to the business centre on the 34th floor. The business centre didn’t have them, eventually they were tracked down to the bell desk in the lobby. Tickets in hand we set off to walk to the stadium. Getting in also turned into a faff – I’m sure Michael will write more on that, so I’ll just say I had to return to the hotel to deposit our ‘contraband’ items. I then had to return to the stadium – I was certainly getting my steps in.

Finally inside the stadium I got to experience the atmosphere of an Indian cricket match. Back in the UK my experience of cricket has generally been test matches – a much more sedate business; players in whites, polite crowds, all very English. Not here, it was raucous. The crowds were loud and euphoric. It felt like a party atmosphere – particularly for the Indians after they’d thrashed England. I messaged my brother back in the UK to see if he was watching the match on tv as he likes cricket, too – he was. He messaged back to say he’d seen us flash up on the screen! I have yet to see photographic proof of this yet – but if it’s true, how cool is that! I don’t think I’ll become a regular, but I’m glad we got to experience it – and Michael was a very happy boy (in spite of the result).

For the past few years I have set myself the challenge of running every day in January – it’s called RED January. It started as a campaign to raise awareness of mental health. January in the UK is notoriously dark, cold and miserable – all things that have a negative impact on a lot of people’s mental health. Doing physical activity is a good way to tackle this and improve mental health.

I knew participating in RED this year was going to be a challenge, with half of it taking place in the UK and the other half while we travelled around India. With a combination of treadmills in hotel gyms, some very short runs and some with stunning backdrops I almost managed to run every day. It was the final day that thwarted me. I knew it would be a difficult as we’d be on a 15+ hour train journey on 31 January. So there was no run that day – but I did do a long walk around the world heritage site at Hampi – which sort of counts. 

To make RED more accessible it’s been expanded to include doing any physical activity in January, so it could be a walk, swim, cycle ride, yoga etc. it’s a great challenge and the real challenge comes next, which it to try and keep up the physical activity in February – but maybe not every day!

When we were staying in Marari Beach in Kerela (at the ‘Colonial Club’ as Mike called it) one of the families he chatted to were ending their holiday in Marari after having started in the north (we’re doing the reverse). They warned us to be wary of the loos as we ventured north, they told us they were better in the south. 

Our overnight train journeys started our preparations – and induced a serious case of leg crossing in me because I was reluctant to use the squat-style hole in the floor toilet. However, arriving at the Trident Hotel in Mumbai, we have been treated to one of the poshest bathrooms I think I’ve ever used. I’m familiar with the notion of an open plan kitchen – but our room has a sort of open plan bathroom. Just a huge wall of glass divides the bed from the shower – so someone could sit on the bed and watch someone else in the shower – and worse, beyond to the lavatory! But fear not, if privacy is required, then at the touch of a switch a blind sandwiched inside the glass wall descends. 

Then there is more to the loo than meets the eye. I don’t often use a loo where there are instructions on the inside of the loo seat. After doing the necessaries there’s a little silver handle at the back of the seat that can be used – but it’s important to have read the instructions first, because if you haven’t, you might be somewhat taken aback when the built-in water feature sends a gentle jet of liquid up your backside! We’ve come from a one hole loo to a hole in one in less than 24 hours!

When I was planning this trip, Mumbai really wasn’t high on my list of places to visit. I’d seen a couple of episodes of the TV series ‘City of Dreams’, which is about Mumbai, and it looked a bit busy, noisy and brash. The reason it ended up on our itinerary was because it was a logical stopping-off point on our way from south to north. Also, the train connections were good – so I pencilled in a one night stop-over.

Mumbai has turned out to be a real delight. First there was the unexpected gay pride march, then, this afternoon we found our jaws dropping as we wandered around the neighbourhood close to our hotel. We walked past block after block of amazing art-deco buildings. I had absolutely no idea that Mumbai is the Indian equivalent of Miami Beach, Florida.

The area is called Churchgate and clearly it was the des-res neighbourhood in the 1930s. Some of the buildings were looking a little  tired by now, but in a way the neglect may well have saved them from being altered too much. We could have been walking around the set of a Poirot episode! I don’t know what the locals thought of two British guys gawping at their apartments, but they were truly splendid – and we loved it. Our walk was concluded with dinner at the fabulous vegan Earth Cafe – the food there was delicious.

When we disembarked from our train this morning, we really had no idea that the day was going to turn out the way it has (and in a very nice way). After freshening up at the hotel and going to visit the nearby city museum, we found out by absolute chance that today was the end of Mumbai’s two week Gay Pride Festival and that it culminated today with a pride march. What are the chances of that? We’re only in Mumbai for two days, and one of them is the day of the pride march. It started at 3pm, so we just had time to jump in a cab and get near to the start point – arriving just in time to join the march. We spotted two women holding Great Britain heart placards – and we went to introduce ourselves. They’ve lived in Mumbai for two years now and they were the first women in Cambridge to officially register as co-parents of their child.

The pride march wasn’t huge – just a few thousand marchers, but the atmosphere was wonderful, diverse and inclusive. In a world where many dark things are happening to LGBTQ+ and other minority communities (right now in the USA of all places), it was wonderful to walk in solidarity with Mumbai’s Indian LGBTQ+ community. We met and talked to some wonderful people on the march, and at the end we even found the gay, feminist, animal loving vegans from the campaign group PETA – we certainly found our tribe in Mumbai!

Even though the train was over an hour late, we still arrived very early in Mumbai at around 6.30am. It meant that once we’d checked into our (very posh) hotel, and freshened up, we could go for breakfast. There was a vast selection of Indian and other world foods on offer. I’m not sure I would ever get used to the cooked Indian breakfast every day, so I was happy with cereals, breads and fruit.

Among the range of jams and honeys I spotted a much welcome friend – my mate Marmite! I haven’t missed much on the holiday (apart from the dogs) but I have craved for a bit of Marmite on toast. There was a selection of breads and a toaster, so the only thing missing was some dairy-free margarine. Given that the range of breakfast offerings was pretty good for vegans and included soya, oat and coconut milk, I thought they must have some margarine somewhere. I asked our lovely waitress, but she was a bit flummoxed as I tried to explain margarine or dairy free butter, she called a colleague. I went through the same explanation but he didn’t know what the strange and unusual food type I was asking for either. Off he went to consult the chef. A short while later a third waiter came to say they had soya, oat and coconut milk! Fast on his heals was waiter number three who apologised but said they did not have any dairy free spread – but asked if we were here tomorrow. I confirmed we would be, and he said they would do their best to see if they could get some for tomorrow. Dear readers – stay tuned to see if I have my Marmite on toast (with vegan spread) fix tomorrow!

Our return train from Hospete Junction was delayed, and to add to the fun they made a last minute platform change. We (and everyone else on the platform) had to haul our bags up and over the footbridge from platform one to platform two.

We found our carriage and cabin a bit easier this time – after last night’s confusion I now know what I’m looking for in terms of numbering. We were slightly relieved to see that we were in a couchette (a two person cabin), so no sharing tonight. Hopefully that will mean we’ll get some sleep before we arrive at 5am (assuming the train makes up time overnight) at Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus (formerly Victoria Terminus) in Mumbai. It’s an extraordinary gothic building which I’ve seen on tv. I’m excited to get to see it in person.

This first-class carriage is slightly better appointed than the first one we travelled in. Having the cabin to ourselves means we can lock the door overnight (Michael seems concerned that we could be robbed in the night – talking with too many Daily Mail readers, obviously), also this carriage has a nice European-style sit-down loo (hallelujah), although I did nearly flood it when I pulled rather than pushed the flush! The handle came right off and a spout of water shot out of the wall. I stuck it back on quickly – I don’t think any permanent damage was done.

Our couchette has an interesting decor which immediately made me think of former British PM Boris Johnson and his wife Carrie (formerly a Symonds – fortunately no relation). They caused a storm when they decorated a room in their Downing Street flat with some very expensive (£800+ a roll) hand printed Indian-inspired wallpaper. The walls and table of our couchette are decorated in an equally flamboyant pattern. Maybe Boris and Carrie had a sideline doing interiors for Indian railways. It wouldn’t surprise me, he seemed to have plenty of other jobs other than running the country when he was an MP.

The overnight train journey to Hospete was smooth, but after sleeping in beds for all of our time in India so far, trying to sleep in a bunk bed rocking from the movement of the train wasn’t easy. We arrived in Hospete Junction a little blury eyed and sleepy. We navigated the cloak room so we could leave our bags at the station and not have to carry them round Hampi. 

As soon as we arrived at Hospete we were accosted by a very persistent tuktuk driver who wanted us to hire him to take us round the Hampi site. In our bleary eyed state we found ourselves in the tuktuk, not quite kidnapped but not really fully consenting tourists. The driver planned to take us all over the Hampi site (it’s a very large site), thankfully Mike mustered the authority to take control and instructed the driver to drop us off at the main entrance to the Hampi ruins and said that we preferred to manage our own time in Hampi.

It was the right decision, as after the long and sleepless journey, being able to wander freely among the extraordinary ruins on our own was just what we needed. It was still early, about 8.30am, and the morning light was beautiful. There were very few people around. We sat on the top of the hill and ate our picnic breakfast. The monkeys were scrambling over the rocks and scouting the bins for their own breakfast. Mike had a slightly mushy banana in his bag so he threw it onto the rocks and watched as one lucky monkey enjoyed tucking in.

Hampi is a stunning place – one that wasn’t originally on our itinerary, I’m so glad we were advised to visit.

We’ve taken our first overnight train from Bengaluru to Hospete (for Hampi) – our first full size train (not counting the narrow gauge blue railway we took to Ooty).

Back in the UK, I rarely travel first class – the cost is ridiculous, often two or three times a standard ticket price. Unless you’re a retired, single cat lady with money to spare (despite having lost your winter fuel payment due to the ‘nasty’ Rachel Reeves – not my words) – yes you know who I’m talking about Aunty!, it’s completely unaffordable. I think I once had a first class ticket when by some odd quirk the work travel booking system showed that a first class ticket on a late train home from London was cheaper than standard. There must have been a fault in the system. Usually I’m in cattle class, often without even a seat.

Here in India, the first class tickets are not an awful lot more than standard, and they are all very cheap compared to the UK. We have a 15 hour train ride overnight to Mumbai later today and for two of us in first class it’s about £40! However, it’s not first class as we’d know it. It’s pretty basic. There are bunks with sheets and a blanket, the lower ones are seats in the day. We have air conditioning, a plug and a light – that’s about your lot. And as for the loo – I’m keeping my legs crossed, it’s a one hole job! The train does the job though and hopefully will get us to our destinations on time.

In the UK it is generally thought rude to honk one’s car horn – it’s almost considered ‘road rage’. No such reservations here in India where honking is considered a normal part of driving. In fact it is actively encouraged. In the UK many lorries have stickers on the rear advising cyclists not to get caught in the drivers ‘blind spot’ or saying the vehicle is restricted to a certain speed. Here most lorries have a sticker saying ‘honk your horn’, not that anyone needs any encouragement!

It’s like an organised chaos with everyone driving in the most erratic way but somehow mostly managing to avoid hitting each other or anybody else. The honking is almost like a kind of automobile bird song, as if the vehicles were all talking to one another. It also has an almost contemporary symphonic rhythm to it – if Philip Glass or Steve Reich did honking, it might sound a bit like this. 

In the days before we had our fur babies (the dogs), we would regularly spend weekends up in London. A particular favourite location was Hoxton in the east end near the city. We would book the Hoxton Hotel (when it was cheap) and hang out in all the east London ‘hipster’ haunts. The area around Hoxton, Spitalfields and Old Street is known for hi-tech start-up firms that have clustered in the area. As a result the area around Old Street roundabout has been nicknamed ‘silicon roundabout’. Wherever you find a hi-tech start-up employee hipster-type, you’re sure to find great (organic) coffee shops and more vegan eateries than you could shake a tofu kebab at! Hence it was our kind of place.

Bengaluru is actually know as India’s Silicon Valley due to its high number of hi-tech businesses. We were staying close to an area called Trinity, and it certainly felt that there were a lot of young IT professionals there, and with them the trendy coffee shops (there was even a Starbucks) and eateries. In my research for this trip, I created a vegan eating page on our planning spreadsheet. Using the internet and the very useful ‘Happy Cow’ website, I found as many potential vegan cafes and restaurants that we could eat at in the different places we could stay at as possible.

In Bengaluru I found a vegan cafe called Copper + Spice, it was quite close to where we were staying (and where Mike had found a barber for a haircut and beard trim) so we thought we’d try it for lunch. It was situated on what largely felt like a quiet residential back street. In fact, when we reached it, it could easily be missed were it not for the sign as it was behind a white painted wall and what looked like a front garden.

Inside the wall was a modest two story house that had been converted into a cafe and small collective of other trendy little stores. The cafe was 100% vegan (result!) and so we took a seat in the front garden and drooled over the menu. We chose a few small plates to share, a smoked cauliflower, beetroot humus, pea humus, sour dough bread and a peanut Asian salad. I had a watermelon juice and Mike had bottled water. 

As we waited for the food, I admired the beautiful little garden – a great example of gardening in small spaces. We also watched amusingly at the guy on the table behind us. He was on his Apple MacBook, EarPods in, on a conference call – while in a vegan organic cafe, how hipster can you get?! The food arrived and was a blaze of colour. I can confirm that it tasted as good as it looked. We devoured it, and as a bonus, when Mike went to pay the bill, he found some vegan chocolate for sale – we had found a small piece of vegan paradise in a Bengaluru backstreet, who would have thought it?!

As mentioned previously I’ve often thought that Michael is similar to my dad in many ways. However, I’m beginning to wonder if rather than having ‘married my father’ as the saying goes, I have in fact ‘married my aunty’.

Aunty Janet has an unbelievable knack of being anywhere, anytime, and still be able to make friends. On a train, a park bench, a supermarket – anywhere, Janet will make acquaintance with total strangers, and within minute, she’ll have extracted their whole life story.

It turns out that despite his protests of being a very ‘anti-social person’; on this holiday he’s channeling his inner aunt J. Whether it’s visiting ancient monuments, in a hotel restaurant or on public transport, Michael has been striking up a conversation with lots of complete strangers. If it turns out they have a dog, bingo! He can exchange dog stories with them for as long as they like.

It’s actually very nice to watch, and in a slightly odd reversal of personalities, it’s me who is quite reserved when we’re with new people. I’d rather hang back, listen, get the lay of them before I dive in. I’ll leave Michael to find out the back story, and if they sound nice, I’ll join in later. Go ‘aunty Michael’.

We have bid farewell to Vaishakh, which is sad. He has been absolutely amazing and taken us to places that we would never have visited had we been travelling alone. He dropped us off at our hotel in Bengaluru this morning before he headed off for another job. I suspect we may still be calling on him for advice during the rest of our trip! Poor man!!

We’re staying at the Radisson again, we were here just over a week ago. although we’re only sleeping one night, I also booked for last night as we were arriving early so it meant we could check in rest, shower etc rather than having to wait until 2pm. I only booked a standard room, but they must like us as they have bumped us up to the corner suite on the top floor again with panoramic views of the lake, and the circular bath (be warned, I might actually use it this time).

One thing we haven’t has so far this trip is cake, and we were starting to crave it (just a little bit). We’ve seen some lovely cakes but all had egg, butter, cream etc in then, so no good for the vegan traveller. However, fear not – I am pretty good at sniffing out vegan cake. During my research into vegan eateries, I found a place in Bengaluru called the Digital Chef. it’s a vegan pizza place and vegan patisserie. I know, and odd combination, but this is Indias Silicon Valley, so if your going to find and Indian hipster vegan, it’s likely to be here.

It’s based quite a way out from where we are staying, but fortunately they do deliveries. Unfortunately they are closed on Wednesdays (today). Fear not a hatched a cunning plan. Yesterday in Mysuru, while we were in the back of a tuk tuk, actually, I managed to place an order for a raspberry and mango cake to be delivered yesterday to our hotel. I had to do it via an app called Swiggy, it’s a sort of Indian Uber Eats. I never use any of those back in the UK, well I tell a lie, I did once to order three Pizzas for a Eurovision party. I didn’t get on with it, we ended up with 12 pizzas being delivered! 

Thankfully I had better luck this time, the order went through and I was able to track our cake being made, dispatched and delivered to the hotel. I had emailed the hotel to make them aware of the delivery yesterday and asked them to keep it for us until we arrived today. We’d just checked in when a member of the hotel staff came up with the cake in a box in a paper bag saying ‘some cake for you sir’. Mike was just about to say ‘no thank you, we’re vegan we can’t eat the cake’, when I took the back from her quickly and said thank you very much and headed for the lift. Mike looked slightly perplexed.

Up in our suite I revealed the surprise – a whole vegan cake all to ourselves. we popped the kettle on and sat down to enjoy our first cake in India with a nice cup of green tea. I feel very pleased that my cake plan has worked out, and even more amazing that a whole vegan cake delivered to our hotel cost the equivalent of just £7. I would probably get two slices of vegan cake for that price on my local high street. Thankfully for our waistlines, they only deliver in Bengaluru, so we shall enjoy it while it lasts (which won’t be long) before our cake famine resumes.

The trip around Mysuru Palace was extraordinary, such a lovely place with intricate patterns and decorations everywhere (oddly most made in Britain!). What made it even more special was that Vaishakh had used his contacts to get us a tour of some rooms that are not open to the general public.

One was the amazing armoury where the resident historian guided us through the beautiful, but often quite gruesome weapons. Then they took us into the next door trophy room – which we were far less keen on. It was filled from floor to ceiling with the King’s hunting trophies, all stuffed and staring at us from every angle. I couldn’t help think that of all the thousands of visitors in the palace that day, we were probably the two who would least like seeing that room. We both felt a bit sick and very sad to see all these beautiful creatures that had been killed and stuffed just for fun – truly horrible. 

Thankfully we didn’t have to stay long in that room, and we’re back in the armoury where the historian was very intrigued to be told by Vaishakh that we were both vegans (hence not very keen on the murdered animals next door). I think he thought we were some kind of religious sect, but Vaishakh did his best to explain that we just liked animals and didn’t want to see them exploited or treated cruelly by humans. No pictures of these two rooms as they don’t allow it, but here is the door – which was padlocked shut again when we passed it later on our way around the rest of the palace.

Our day exploring Mysuru ended with a return trip to the palace. Chatting to the English couple at breakfast they told us that the thousands of individual bulbs that decorate the facade of the palace are only turned on at weekends now (a cost saving measure from the state government). 

As it was Wednesday we thought we would miss this spectacle, but when we visited the palace earlier, Vaishakh’s friend who worked there told us that the evening light show at the palace (7-8pm each night) concludes with all the lights being turned on for just ten minutes. The light show itself was narrated telling the story Mysuru (sadly not in English so we weren’t really able to understand), the lights were turned on and off to relate to the narrative. Even not being able to understand the story, they were pretty to watch. 

Vaishakh knew when to tell us to get our cameras ready for the finale when all the lights came on. It was beautiful and worth the wait. Some of the bulbs had blown so it reminded us of when the Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol used to be lit with individual bulbs like this – when some of them blew, the illuminated bridge looked like a smile with an occasional missing tooth. Watching the lights on the palace was a perfect end to a perfect day.

It is day 29 of RED (run every day) January, just three more runs to do to complete the challenge. It’s been a RED of two halves – running in the cold, wet and dark in the UK, then the opposite, warm, sunny and humid weather in India. The latter has been quite tough, firstly finding places to run, then coping with the heat. It’s meant I’ve only managed very short runs here – just enough to keep up with the challenge. 

Our bed and breakfast in Mysore was in a lovely residential area. The street had three small parks running along it, bisected by residential streets. It was lovely and quiet and all the trees in the park made it nice and cool. It was the perfect place to do an early morning run around the three parks.

I was awake yesterday around 6am so had donned my running gear and was out the house by 6.30am. I wasn’t the first up, there were several locals doing their morning walk around the park. At the end of one park was an outdoor gym and a few people were doing their exercise routines. To go between the parks I had to dip out onto the road. It’s a very quiet street so hardly any traffic, but what is still a surprise is that there are cows wandering around freely.

In India, cows are considered sacred and are a symbol of wealth, strength, and abundance. They are revered as givers of life and so are let out to roam freely in the streets during the day. They’re treated with respect so are perfectly safe from the crazy traffic, and for festivals they are decorated with flowers, ribbons and colourful turmeric powder that turns them yellow. Several of the cows we’ve seen have still been adorned from the recent festivals. 

Yesterday I ran with just my watch so wasn’t able to photograph any of the cows. Today I took my phone with me, but typical, there were no cows in sight. They were either having a lay-in or knew I was coming and were feeling camera shy. Fortunately, I took a photo of one yesterday on our walk around Mysuru – and just as we were driving off one appeared so I caught a shot through the car window. I’ll need to keep my eyes out for more cows on the next stage of our journey so I can make a moo-vie next time (sorry, I couldn’t resist!)

The first stop on our tour of Mysuru with Vaishakh was to the market – and what a market. It was a vast sprawling network of lanes and stalls. To keep them cool from the sun, different coloured tarpaulin were strung over the alleyways. The light that passed through the tarpaulin created a wonderful mix of colours that added to the amazing atmosphere.

My mum loved a marker, the mixture of fresh produce and the ability to barter over the process. She was a bit cheeky like that my mum, I think I’ve got that from her – the ‘if you don’t ask, you don’t get’ attitude. Michael would run a mile from having to barter – he’d rather hand them his wallet and say ‘take it’ than have to haggle over a price!

The smell in the market was just as amazing as the look of all the produce. Fruit and vegetables piled high in baskets and on mats. Some familiar ones but also more exotic varieties too. Things that are not so common in the UK are heaped in vast piles here. I don’t think I’ve ever seen quite so many coconuts all piled up in one place before.

Part of the market is where you can buy the flowers for the garlands that are used in religious festivals and rituals. They don’t come in bunches like in the UK but rather in great big piles or baskets of flower heads. They are sold by weight and then are threaded onto strings to make the garlands. I watched one boy as he neatly threaded the flowers onto the string. The finished effect was just beautiful.

I was getting lots of tradespeople offering me their wares – but I resisted in the knowledge that I had to keep the air in my luggage until nearer the end of our trip so not to be carrying so much. I kept thinking, aunty Janet wouldn’t be so restrained! I did let two stall holders apply some scented oils to my arms – sandalwood on one and lotus flower on the other. Leaving the market with no produce but in a cloud of sweet scent.

After we were unsuccessful in our first attempt to buy tickets for the blue toy train from Ooty to Mettupalayam , our early start yesterday meant that we got to Coonoor by just gone 11, plenty of time to catch the 12.35 shorter train ride to Ooty.  This time I’d booked our tickets online, so as not to miss out. 

I’m quite a dab hand on using the very frustrating Indian railway booking system now. We were chatting to an English couple at breakfast in our B&B this morning, they were impressed I had booked all of the trains myself, they’d used a company to do it for them. I said let’s see if they all work first! Apparently one of the trains they had booked had been running two hours early – departed two hours early! That was a useful heads up, I shall check the online live train times now to make sure nothing departs without us!

We had a little wait at Coonoor station, but it was a pretty place with a small station garden at one end of the platform. I admired the plants while Michael went off to explore the station and the goods yard. I then sat people watching and spotting the other English tourists – mostly one women dutifully following around after a train buff husband, looked familiar. My own train buff husband soon returned from his exploring, just in time to watch our train be reversed onto the platform.

We found our seats in the first carriage easily,  although there was a moment when another couple tried to occupy our seats. Fortunately they were in the wrong carriage. Phew, I panicked for a moment that I’d messed up the train booking.

The train ride itself was quite short just over an hour to Ooty, but it’s a lovely ride. The climb is steep and windy and the views are amazing. The best bit was our fellow passengers in the carriage. There were an Indian couple with their grown up daughter and a retired English couple from Milton Keynes. We chatted and shared stories and jokes the whole journey, it was great. 

When we arrived at Ooty it was a bit chaotic as we all tried to get off and lots of people waiting on the platform were trying to get on at the same time. Vaishakh was waiting for us on the platform and took this great video if our train arriving. Back in the car we set off on the last part of drive to Mysore, Michael very content that he’d got his train fix – the first of many he’ll get over the next few weeks.

Our stay at Malari Beach came to an end today as we bid farewell to cottage 32. It was a very early start as we had to be ready to hit the road at 4am. You know how it is the night before you have to be up early and you just keep waking up thinking you’ll miss the alarm. That exactly what was happening to me last night. I gave up in the end and got up at 2.30am and decided to do my run every day session out and back along the beach. 

It’s slightly weird running on sand in the middle of the night, in the dark with the waves crashing on the beach. What’s even weirder is that I wasn’t the only one on the beach at that hour. First there was a fisherman preparing his boat, his figure emerging out of the dark. Then there were a couple of people sat around a camp fire – they looked like they’d been there all night. As I ran past, they were a bit startled and shone their torches at me. Finally, I came across a group of street dogs on the beach. They were also a bit surprised to see me and one of them woofed at me. I took that as a sign to turn around and head back. It was only a short one mile run, but the main point was I did it and kept up my 27 day streak of running every day.

I got back to the cottage, showered, made Mike a coffee and then put the bags out ready for them to be collect. Bang on cue at 3.45 a porter driving the electric tuk tuk turned up and loaded them onto the back to take them to reception. Vaishakh was waiting for us as we arrived. I paid the last of our bill and checked out. Slightly sad that another chapter of our adventure was closing, but excited about what’s still to come. 

I did something yesterday (not sure what) that has made my lower back a bit stiff. Not ideal when tomorrow we’re heading off on a very long car journey. Fortunately it was early yoga again this morning and that always helps stretch me out. Michael joined me this morning (somewhat reluctantly). He does enjoy yoga when he does it, but it just reminds him how knackered and inflexible he feels when he can’t stretch and flex like others can. I think the yoga class leader could see that my back was stiff as he did lots of moves that were good for loosening the lower back.

Yoga was followed by breakfast and then at 11am I’d booked us both a massage in the on-site Ayurveda centre. I thought this would also be good for my back and a nice treat on our last day here. As we wandered over to get our massage I was a little anxious about the possibility of being massaged by women. Don’t get me wrong, I do like women, but it’s been a very long time since the female hand has been laid on my body – and that was not a good experience. Several years ago, one of our ex-neighbours, a slightly nuts Swedish women by the name of Anna invited us to a fancy dress party. I went as someone from the band Dexys Midnight Runners. Later in the evening, after she had dunk far too much alcohol, Anna quite unexpectedly slipped her hand inside the back of my dungarees and started to fondle my bottom, which was most unwelcome. The memory of this encounter has left me with mild post traumatic stress (PTSD) and the thought of a female masseur was slightly triggering.

Thankfully my fears were not realised, as after a quick questionnaire with a doctor to check my blood pressure, cholesterol, toilet movements etc were all ok, I was introduced to a young boy (he was probably a young man, but he looked like a young boy to me!) who showed me into the massage room. There was massage table, a side table with oils and towels, a separate bathroom and a rope strung across the room from one side to another. I wondered what an earth the rope was for, fortunately I didn’t get to find out.

When I’d booked the massage I asked what I should wear. I was told to just wear normal clothes and that a loin cloth would be provided for me to wear during the massage. I had visions of a nice cotton cloth similar to the sort worn by Ghandi, I was miss-sold! The boy instructed me to undress completely and then pulled out what could only be described as an oversized disposable face mask. He proceeded to wrap the string around my waist tieing it behind, the fabric part dangling in front. Then reaching between my legs he pulled the fabric up and tucked it into the string around my waist. Think cheap sumo wrestler outfit. As a slightly oversized teenager, some of the kids at school used to call me Sumo (a distortion of Symo, while also playing on my chubbiness). If only they could see me now – looking like a poor man’s sumo wrestler!

The boy invited me to sit on a stool where he began with the head massage. Oil was applied and his fingers started to whiz around my scalp, my neck and my ears – it reminded me of when I go to the hairdressers. I love having my hair done, it sort of sends me into a relaxed trance. After about ten minutes that part was done. Next he put a metal bowl on the floor by my feel and one by one lifted them into the bowl. He poured water over them from a metal jug, then with what at first I thought was a stone – turned out to be a slice of lime (yes my eyes really are that bad!), he rubbed one foot at a time with the lime then rinsed with the water before patting them dry with a towel.

Next it was time to lay on the massage table, first face down. For this part we were joined by a second male masseur with a bright smile and gapped teeth. A very sensible safeguarding precaution I thought. The string holding the ‘loin cloth’ was untied and the fabric part rested on the table. Then warm oil was poured from a small metal watering can all over my body. The two masseurs then started to work the oil into my body. Blimey, they were speedy and very coordinated. I thought, if this was a Charleston on Strictly they’d get 10, 10, 10, 10. It also vaguely reminded me of taking a car through a car-wash, the brushes whizzing and whacking each side. Not that they were very harsh, in fact it was a lovely relaxing sensation. After a good workout on the back half, the loin cloth was retired and I was asked to turn over onto my back.

A similar process of applying the oil was carried out followed by two pairs of hands basting me up like a good roast potatoe (non-vegans can imagine your own alternative). All was well until one of them started on my tits. It felt like he was a contestant on bake off rolling two dough buns into shape. The spirit of Frankie Howard washed over me as I could feel laughter buildings – titter ye not! For those not of a certain age, Frankie Howard was British comedian during the 1950s-1980s – he famously made lots of risqué double entendres in his stories then would feinen shocked innocence when the audience laughed at them – he was hilarious. Anyway, I bit hard on my lip to suppress a laugh, which was quite a struggle, I though ‘think if something serious’. My brother Andrew’s red face came into my head – No! That was worse, quickly before I spurted out a guffaw I thought of the dogs. Phew, the laugh was suppressed and the tits were left to rise! At the end of the front massage there was a gentle slapping of the body from head to toe – also quite similar to knocking the air out of dough.

The final stage was the head massage. The boy applied small drops of cold oil onto my face. They smelt slightly scented, like Body Shop Mornigea body wash. He proceeded to gently massage all my face, around the eyes, nose, mouth, cheeks, chin, the full works. Then that was it, I was done. I did wonder for a moment how I was going to get from the massage bench to the bathroom without looking like some B-list celebrity on dancing on ice. Thankfully they’d thought of that. Before I stood up the boy wiped down my feet removing the excess oil, then advised me to tread gently to the bathroom where I could wash the oil off.

Fully dressed and very relaxed I was escorted back to the reception area where I was reunited with Michael who’d been sent off to a separate room for his massage. The young boy applied a bindi to each of our foreheads and we were invited to sit and drink some sweet herbal tea before departing (too sweet for Michael, he’s sweet enough!). 

Looking out the window I asked about the potted labelled plants and whether they had herbal significance. I was informed that yes, they each performed a different function and that there were 100 potted plants around the Ayurveda centre that formed a herbal garden, which was used regularly in the different treatments. Tea consumed, I signed the bill and we left feeling very relaxed.

Today (26 January) is Republic Day in India. The staff in the restaurant were wearing badges of the Indian flag to mark the occasion. It’s interesting to read how the Indian flag contains a lot of symbolism and its use is quite controlled.

Wikipedia informs me that before the amendment of the ‘flag code’ in 2021, the flag was by law only to be made of khadi; a special type of hand-spun cloth or silk, made popular by Mahatma Gandhi. As of 2023, there are 4 places in India that are licensed to manufacture the flag. Usage of the flag is governed by the Flag Code of India and other laws relating to the national emblems. The original code prohibited use of the flag by private citizens except on national days, such as the Independence Day and the Republic Day. In 2002, the Supreme Court of India directed the Government of India to amend the code to allow flag usage by private citizens. Subsequently, the Union Cabinet of India amended the code to allow limited usage. The code was amended once more in 2005 to allow some additional use including adaptations on certain forms of clothing. The flag code also governs the protocol of flying the flag and its use in conjunction with other national and non-national flags.

The current Indian flag with the central Ashok Chakra was designed by Badruddin Tyabji in 1947. Gandhi first proposed a flag to the Indian National Congress in 1921. The precursor to the current flag, the swaraj flag was designed by Pingali Venkayya. In the centre was a traditional spinning wheel, symbolising Gandhi’s goal of making Indians self-reliant by fabricating their own clothing, between a red stripe for Hindus and a green stripe for Muslims. The design was then modified to replace red with saffron and to include a white stripe in the centre for other religious communities (as well to symbolise peace between the communities) and provide a background for the spinning wheel. However, to avoid sectarian associations with the colour scheme, the three bands were later reassigned new meanings: courage and sacrifice, peace and truth, and faith and chivalry respectively.

As someone who trained in textile design hearing about the type of cloth prescribed for the flag and the symbolism of the spinning wheel at its centre is facinating. Here at Marari Beach there is a spinning wheel used in the creation of a different kind of yarn. In the Coir Hut it’s possible to see how the coconut fibres are spun into yarn and then turned into coir rope, mats etc. Coir is a very tough and hard wearing fibre – we have had coir carpet in our hall in the past. For the women spinning it, it will certainly toughen up their hands! 

Around a year ago I was at home perusing the home and garden section of the Guardian newspaper. There was an article by Allan Jenkins about an organic vegetable garden in Kerala. Slightly oddly, it didn’t say in the article precisely where it was. I did my own internet research to find that there was somewhere called Marari Beach Resort with a five acre organic vegetable garden, where it’s possible to tour the garden, pick vegetables and the chef would then cook a meal with the produce. So when I was planning our trip an opportunity to visit a vegetable farm and taste the produce was high on my wish list.

It was another one of those ‘pinch yourself’ moments – we actually did it. At 6pm last night we met Ajo, the chef in the farm kitchen garden and he took us on a tour to learn about and select the produce that he then turned into our dinner in a beautiful outdoor farm kitchen, What a delicious dinner it was too! I’m not generally one for posting pictures of my meals, but on this occasion I’ll make an exception.

The first course was a simple soup made from some onion, garlic, curry leaves picked from the garden and blended with coconut milk. They were simmered gently for about 30 minutes. Instead of using a pan lid, a banana leave had the duel effect of keeping a lid on the pan and also telling when it was cooked as the leaf changed as it cooked – ingenious!

Next it was a banana cooked in a sauce of onions, spices and coconut milk. This was served wrapped in a banana leaf. It was delicious and had a beautiful almost nutty flavour.

Next was a refreshing salad made using three types of spinach leaves. The dressing was made from passion fruit juice – it was so sweet. Pomegranate seeds were sprinkled over the salad with some small batons of what I think were a yam.

The main course consisted of two curries; a wet pumpkin curry with coconut cream, and a dry aubergine curry with chopped fresh coconut. It was interesting that Ajo prepared the aubergine by chopping it into very small pieces and cooking it directly, this is very different to how we generally cook aubergine at home (sliced, salted and baked to extract liquid before they are grilled or roasted). I’m certainly going to try his method. The curry was accompanied by a hot pickle and chapati.

Desert was a creamy coconut pudding infused with hibiscus flower and mixed with chopped cashew and dried fruit. It was the perfect end to a delicious meal – and our first desert in India (if you exclude fruit!).

It was a fantastic experience and meal. We wrote a great review for Ajo, we’d definitely recommend this experience.

Ajo our very talented chef

We’ve been staying at Marari Beach for two nights and we have two more to go before we hit the road again with Vaishakh. It is a beautiful place, but quite detached from the real India. The place sells itself as an eco-resort. All the rooms are little individual thatched cottages set amongst beautiful lush green grounds.

The gardens here are more like a botanical garden as we’d know it, rather than the actual botanical gardens that we’ve visited so far in India. The trees and shrubs each have little green plates telling the English and local names.

There are near green lawns (well they look like lawns but it’s actually a close growing ground cover). The only reason they are green is because the sprinklers come on in the early morning and late evening each day.

There’s a big beautiful saltwater swimming pool that is not cold, but cooler than it is outside – so it’s very refreshing to swim.

Around the complex is an earth hut with lots of info about the wildlife around the site and where daily talks/tours start from.

The restaurant is housed in a large open sided thatched building, but there are fine wires running down the sides to stop birds flying in. The high exposed roof have low overhang eaves to keep it cool.

Big fans hang from the ceiling and because it’s quite dark, there are small wall lights around the edge. The restaurant is where we go for an extensive buffet breakfast and dinner (dinner can be buffet or a la carte) the staff wear blue in the morning and white in the evening.

There is also a choice of the poolside snack bar, the beach bar with pizzas and other drinks and snacks, or the the fisherman’s grill.

Across the site there’s also a yoga hut, games room, therapy spa, club house (with a tv if you’re desperate – there are deliberately no tvs in the cottages).

There are lots of natural activities including the Owl Parliament walk (which we did on our first morning and it was absolutely fab), a butterfly tour in the butterfly garden (second morning ) archery (gave that a miss), afternoon tea served on the lawn (Matthew did, Mike didn’t), and an organic vegetable farm (more about that later). Then of course there is the palm fringed beach just a short stroll from the cottages.

All this luxury does of course come at a price – but this is the ‘special treat’ for our trip. We certainly have never stayed anywhere quite as luxurious as this before (and are unlikely to again unless I win another cash prize competition!). The luxury is wonderful, but also quite an awkward contrast to the real India we’ve seen elsewhere. I said to Mike the other night when we were having dinner that the whole place has the air of a colonial club house in the mid 1950s. The look of the clientele certain fit that (including us). The guests are mostly white European, mostly older couples (the resort could pass as a retirement community with a small number of younger visitors!). Many of the guests have big boobs and big bellies (and that’s just the men – to be fair, the women tend to a bit more stylish). All the staff (who are without exception lovely) are of course Indian, which just adds to the feel of colonial British rule clinging on here. 

It’s been both odd and nice to experience this slightly surreal piece of gated paradise (I didn’t mention the security guides at every entrance did I?) But I think four nights (three days is enough). We’ll be glad to be travelling again with Vaishakh and seeing a more authentic side of India from tomorrow.

When water closets (wc or toilets) were introduced into UK homes in the late nineteenth century, it was not considered hygienic to have them inside the house, but rather to have them in an outside space accessed by leaving the house, usually into a back yard. These outside loos can still be found in some very old houses, but are now considered very primitive. Most people prefer the luxury of a fully heated inside lavatory nowadays. So it’s quite funny here at Marari Beach to find that the bathrooms are located outside – considered decadent and luxurious here in contrast to the outside loos of old back home.

Enclosed by a white wall, with a thatched palm roof, the shower, sink and toilet are covered, but there is an open section in the corner where rain (if there is any) can drain onto a pebbled area with a banana palm planted in it. The temperature here is very warm, so there is no danger of being cold in the outdoor bathroom, but there is one predator to be wary of. In the evenings the mosquitos are particularly hungry – and no one wants a bite on the bum when they’re on the throne! To deal with this danger, guests are advised to place a citronella joss stick in the pebbles beside the loo and let the incense burn to deter the mosquitoes. The incense burns through the night, so for the older gentlemen among us (that’s both of us, I know) we can pay our nighttime visits safe in the knowledge that the mosquitoes are (mostly) being kept at bay.

A reminder of how much precious water we waste