Chennai

Now to the next major stop, Chennai. We're hungover but still smiling and now lugging our ridiculously oversized bags towards the closest tuktuk, after a quick stop off at the nearby corner shop for snacks, water and fruit. A moments haggling with our driver and we're on our way to what we hoped was the location the coach would be stopping at, Kadamba Bus Station - Canacona.

We arrived and immediately India style confusion kicks in. Our driver reliably informs us with complete certainty that we might possibly be in the right place. Or it could be 10 minutes down the road. But it could not be. Although it might. Nobody really knows, but everyone seemed to have an opinion, and that was that we should be further down the road as there were more white people waiting there than where we were. People even took time out of their day to turn around and tell us they were certain we shouldn't be here, which would be extremely helpful had we not been pretty sure our instructions for where to wait were correct.

To clarify, I called the coach company, who reliably informed us they had a coach and it will come by the vague area. They did however confirm my seat numbers with just my first name, which was fairly reassuring they had us registered at least. We were no clearer on the situation, so walked down to where we were being pointed to. Turned out, everyone here was headed to Hampi, and looked like they were waiting just as long as we had been. Not wanting to miss the coach, we headed back to what we believed to be the correct spot.

Fortunately, earlier in the day we got a text with details on how to track the coach, which was a godsend as, by typical Indian standards, the coach was an hour late. Had we not been able to see it was still 70km away, we would have assumed we had missed it.

10 minutes away and I stand in the road with hopes of flagging it down should the coach be intending to stop further down the road. Luckily, no need, against all odds and advice, the coach arrived exactly where we had hoped. We launch our bags into the luggage compartment and climb aboard. By now it's 10pm, people are already asleep and being that the coach is a 'semi sleeper', all the seats apart from ours were in a mostly reclined position. Great for those already seated and enjoying their comfortable sleepy slalom around the Indian roads, but not so great for us with our smaller backpacks trying to navigate ourselves through a tiny crevice between our seats and the ones in front, like an episode of 'Hole in the Wall'.

We manage to negotiate the area, vaguely stow our bags in whatever gaps we could find, and look around our temporary home for the next 18 hours. Seats, seats, seats, seats... Uh... Toilet? Nope. Plug socket? Initially no sign of it, but a little digging produced a plug point providing no power. What with that and the fact the vehicle isn't on nice smooth rails, but windy Indian roads littered with cyclists, slow trucks and cows, this was far from the glorious luxury of the third class sleeper trains.

It turned out there were a lot more stops on the way than we expected, as the coach also traveled to Bangalore. Unfortunately for a slightly panicked Diana, most of these weren't toilet stops. The first one was around an hour after we boarded, so not too bad but a level of uncertainty which would have been nice to avoid.

Then began the fun of trying to get some sleep. This is not a simple task in a slightly reclined seat anyway, but we also had to contend with erratic Indian driving, and my poor foresight to not bring my travel pillow in with my small bag. A few winks were had, nowhere near the recommended forty, but a solid ten perhaps, rudely interrupted by the admittedly relieving toilet break. This was simply the Indian equivalent of a truck stop, a basic cafe and toilets around the back, and we actually got here around 12am, so a perfect Indian hour as expected.

Managing to get a little more sleep, it was soon daylight and we were nearing Bangalore. Although we had no plan to get out here, it turned out we had little choice as they decided we needed to swap to another coach. Praying this was actually going to Chennai, we grab all our belongings and regain our relevant seats on the new coach. This one had less seats, but was an out right upgrade as we now had working plug points, so could actually get some form of entertainment going.

The rest of the journey, apart from the cramp and numbness, was mostly uneventful. Bangalore took about an hour to actually leave due to rush hour traffic, but once we hit the open road it was smooth sailing all the way to our destination.

When close I started working out where we needed to go. First stop, cash. We had spent most of what we had withdrawn and so needed to replenish at the closest ATM, which I could see was just up the end of a nearby road on the map. We needed at least 25k rs for the next place also, so wanted to withdraw as much as we could.

We leave coach and immediately a tuktuk driver approached us. We explain we are going to walk to the nearest ATM up the road, to which he laughs and points to the ATM not 5 steps behind us. The first convenient thing to happen to us so far. We withdraw 10k each, the maximum for one withdrawal, and attempt to withdraw again only to be declined. Okay, we figured that's because we already did 10k on this machine, no problem. We return to our new tuktuk driving friend and request he take us to the cheapest guest house close to the bus station. On a meter too, a real luxury.

He took us to a place literally a 10 minute walk from where we need to be in the morning, we go in and check the price, more than we wanted to pay but very convenient. We ask him if there is anywhere cheaper, and off we head down back streets and past what looked like good little guest houses, ending at one little place that barely looked like accommodation. Cheaper, but no rooms, so that's out. He takes us to one last place, same price as the first but much further away, so we ask to go back to the first and check in. Basic room, had a tv but it didn't work, had a.c. but didn't work, and strangely had a double and single bed in it. But it sufficed. We head out with four missions in mind. 

1. Chai.
2. Check the bus for tomorrow.
3. ATM.
4. Food.

Lovely view of the highway from our rooms balcony

We head up toward the bus station. An ATM is on the way, we stop off but it accepts neither of our cards. Not a bank we recognized anyway so we carry on, and cross the highway, a fun real life game of frogger to warm us back into city life. As we enter the bus station, it seems there are plenty of restaurants and a place to go to sleep? but no ticket counter. We walk up the station and spot three guys sat at a desk labeled information. Worth a shot.

The guys tried their best to be useful, but it turned into a huge debate. Unfortunately, our instructions were quite specific. We need to get the coach towards Pondicherry. The express bus. Taking the highway, not the east coast road. Fine, if English was widely spoken. About 6 guys came over trying to establish what the hell we wanted. Some people pointed left, some pointed right. They shouted among each other for a while and eventually they conclude the bus should be at the platform were on. At any time we fancied apparently. 5, 6, 7, is okay.

We agree between ourselves to try and get back here for 5 am. Gulp. On the way out we spot another ATM, state bank of India, which I was certain should work. It didn't. This raised some concerns.

We progress back towards our hotel and beyond, searching down more cash points. We tried atleast 5, none worked, this seemed like we weren't going to succeed. Thinking it may just be we withdrew the maximum (although we've taken out 20k each in a day before, so this didn't seem likely) we continue to look for food. Found what seemed to be an Indian version of a take out chicken place, and enjoyed Diana's last meat based meal for a while. On the way back to the hotel we found a chai shop just next door and enjoy it on the side of the road before retiring to bed (and finding out my tablet broke, unfortunately).

5 am arrives, we head to the bus station and ask a guy on the 'platform' if we were still in the right place. The bus said Pondicherry. It said express. It didn't say ECR. Seemed good. We got on, some confusion as to when we get a ticket but figured we could work that out once we were on the way, and proceeded to get on. The bus was practically empty, and blaring out a Tamil radio station to prevent an odd silence.

The bus progresses from the station. We were unable to get our bags into the overhead storage due to their size, and figured it would be easier to get off if they're on the seat next to us. The bus pulls up further along the road to it's first stop. A couple of people get on, one of whom brought an entire fruit market along with him, getting on and off the bus producing box after box after sack of various fruits and vegetables. The bus driver was in no mood to wait for this sort of game, so carried on down the road whilst the man was running along still attempting to load up the bus with various plant life. Eventually he appeared to have finished, half the front of the bus was taken up, and he took a seat.

Part of the on-bus-market-stall

At this point, another guy got on, with a small brown satchel and a official looking uniform. Turned out this was the bus conductor, and he made his way around collecting money. In broken English, he pointed at the seat next to us and gestured we'd need to pay for 3 seats if we can't get the bags onto the overhead storage. No real choice, so we pay for 3 seats on our 2.5 hour journey - 275 rs or around £3.

The bus journey was mostly uneventful and I was still shattered from a morning of waking up before 12pm, so I was drifting in and out of sleep anyway, until Diana poked me to make me aware of the following catchy selfie-related tune playing.

The bus stayed mostly empty for the whole journey. That is, up until a couple of stops when we wanted to get off, and all of a sudden a flood of people entered. Tremendous. We got a few glares from people who had to stand looking at our baggage on the seat, all we could do was shrug and say we'd paid for three. Eventually we reached the 'stop' we were after, which was actually a toll gate where the bus had to slow down to pay the toll in a place called Moratandi. We grabbed our bags and in a rush jumped off the bus. Success. Fortunately for us, the greengrocer from earlier was also getting off here, so we had plenty of time.

We took a moment to gather our thoughts and work out our next move. We were headed for a place called Sadhana Forest, a voluntary project we would be spending the next month at. We were informed that we should call them on arrival to the toll gate and people would come to collect us. So we sat down at a very convenient cafe/restaurant where the bus had stopped, ordered 2 chai's and proceeded to call the number. We were told we were in the right place, but the wrong side of the road, so we finished up our tea and crossed the highway.

We were collected with by two guys on mopeds, Rob and John, and we worked out the best way of navigating our huge bags onto the back of the tiniest motorized bikes in the world. Whilst we succeeded, it was hardly the most comfortable journey ever, and the roads are not so much roads as they are dirt paths with pits, gravel, dips and pot holes at every possible point.

But we made it, on to Sadhana forest....

Goa (Part 2)

For anyone unsure why the blog updates have been slow, my tablet literally went up in a puff of smoke, a motherboard component burnt out. Not really repairable without replacing the board, so now just carrying around a chunk of metal for no reason and it's a pain using phones for blog updates. Not yet equipped with a laptop, however where we currently are has a shared one and WiFi, so we're able to scrape through a few blog posts whilst we carry on our hunt for a cheap computer for traveling. If anyone has a suggestion for getting a cheap laptop, we're all ears. Shipping from England to India isn't cheap either!

So we left off in Palolem, home to many a brit looking for a cheap beach and sunshine escape. We expected this from previous, so nothing particularly new here. Still a gorgeous area, if not strictly what people would consider the real India, and it gave Diana a chance to get back to feeling better.

The hotel room was a welcome slice of luxury (bear in mind, we've not even done a month at this point.. what the future brings, who knows!) and certainly aided Diana in a speedy recovery (along with her small stash of various drugs). It would probably have helped more however if we hadn't converted the room into incredibly humid swamp land. At this point, we had a fair amount of washing to sort out, and turned the room into a hotel room/laundrette, with every nook and cranny filled with various over and under garments. Unfortunately, very little air circulation turned this into damp smelling clothes, and what felt like walking into a thick mist upon opening the door. Everything was damp to the touch. Needless to say it wasn't pleasant, but the doctor did say stay out of dust, so that was a success, and a valuable lesson learned.

We checked out of the hotel as we wanted to find somewhere a lot cheaper to stay. The previous day we spotted a guest house where they had a room for around 500 a night, so grabbed our smaller bags and took a walk towards there (around 2km). En route, we were flagged over and asked if we needed a room, and as we had no commitment to the other location, took a look.

The room was basic, but about as kitted out as the previous hotel, we still had an albeit smaller TV and hot water, although this ran out in approximately 0.6 seconds, so mostly cold showers again. But it was fine, it cost a third of the previous room AND it had a vague balcony with a washing line, so we could avoid our previous experience and went to grab our bags and make ourselves homely.

Lunch time, and we had spotted a place on our walk between the hotels that caught our eye, a restaurant that promises healthy food and brown bread, something we had forgotten existed. Can't hurt to try and we took a look at the menu and the prices were fine.

Well, wow. We ended up coming here for the next three days, it was amazing. Now, this could be because we've been living off masala and roti for however long now, and it was actually simply average, but the food was incredible. Diana ordered a rice salad for under 200 rs that was far too big for one person, I had poached eggs on crunchy fresh wholemeal bread, and the apple juice.. I like cloudy apple juice, but this was basically more of a pulp, like it was actually due to become cider. If anyone should go to the area, especially if you have been living on spices for weeks, come here. Brilliant.

From here, most of the time was spent on the beach, either in the restaurants or on sun beds, making the most of the peace and slow pace whilst we could. Mostly uneventful, except, and I can't believe it happened, but Diana was attacked again. This time from behind, and from a much larger perpetrator, the screams (and other people's laughs) still haunt me. The video below should reveal more.

Quite rightly dubbed 'Ruby-Moo' by us, the Indian cow version of Ruby has appeared before us.

So now it's the night before Diana's birthday, and she plans to go to an ashtanga yoga class in the morning, lunch, sit on the beach, get a massage, shower, cocktails. No problem, and fits in with my plan nicely, as I would need time to buy something secretly and this was the first, and only, opportunity to do it how I wanted. For tonight though, we go to one of the restaurants on the beach with live music. More like an open mic night, we hang around long enough for someone to absolutely destroy 'The House Of The Rising Sun' and leave to find another one. This time we find a much better musician, a guy called Anjel Ferry - very great evening was had and we retire after not too many drinks ready for the next day.

Yoga starts at 8.30, finishes at 10. I had an hour and a half to do what I need to do. Unfortunately I had not had a lot of sleep, I was utterly shattered, and we were out of the room by 8.10, I could have easily slept the extra time. Still, this was important, and I had done my research and the place I wanted was around 40 minutes walk away. I took Diana towards her yoga class and set off in the opposite direction.

Around 10 minutes along, a guy pulls up on his motorcycle asking where I'm going. As I wasn't entirely sure, I just said canacona town, he said he was heading that way, so I hopped on the back.

Unfortunately where I was and where he took me (chaudy) wasn't exactly much closer to my destination, and just meant I had to walk back where we just came from. But that was fine, I had been itching to get back on a bike again anyway.

So I walked to the place marked on the map, to look for what I needed, well aware of my short time limit. But it wasn't quite as simple as following the map, as apparently the map was entirely wrong. After walking along road, dirt paths, forest and active train tracks, I came to the conclusion what I was looking for either didn't exist, or was indeed in a paddy field. I turn back (getting a more useful lift off a guy with a scooter this time) and make it back just in time, hot and frustrated (Diana believed I was looking for a nearby ATM).

We have lunch at our new favorite establishment, and go sit on the beach for a short while and given a flyer about a silent disco that night we decided attend, before Diana goes off for her massage. I had another 45 minutes, this time I just walk into a couple of shops nearby, not quite the quality I was hoping for but at this point I was simply hoping the moment is what was most important.

After around fifteen minutes and numerous attempts to sell me all sorts of things I don't need or even remotely want, I was successful and hurried back to the room to shower, prepare and get dressed and work out what I was going to do.

Diana came back around 5.30, relaxed and vaguely beaten up from her massage. Unfortunately for me, that meant she was in far less of a rush than I was, hoping to catch the sun setting at around half 6. I must have asked her, in many different and nicer ways, just how bloody long did she need to get ready, which apparently wasn't suspicious even though I'm never in a hurry. I spend the time trying to be discreet as possible and contemplating back up plans if things don't work out.

We FINALLY leave, it looked dark outside, so I'm preparing plan b in my head. We leave the hotel towards the beach and it's gorgeous, the sun had just set, so I stop Diana to admire the view.

At this point, I didn't feel at all nervous. It felt right, no, perfect, and I had no concerns. Diana tells me I stuttered my words which I don't remember, because I didn't feel worried about it, I wasn't certain what to say or expect, but as planned I told her what I wanted to say,  got down on one knee, produced the ring that had taken all levels of stress to source and asked her if she would be willing to spend the rest of her life with me.

Whether out of pity or shock, I don't know, but she's now entered a verbal contract I intend to hold. The rest of the night involved lots of smiling, laughing, phone calls and a fairly soggy face with smudged makeup (I just couldn't hold myself together). It was truly magical and will now always be one of the happiest memories of my life, and I'm incredibly happy to be traveling with my wonderful fiancee.

Sunset at the restaurant slightly later

Many cocktails later, we head to the silent disco, an event where music is not played after 11pm and everyone is issued wireless headphones with two different music styles to switch between, which I found to be great fun. Strangely eerie if you turn off the headphones though, drunk people bouncing around in silence apart from poorly sung versions of whatever they were listening to. At this point I gave Oli and Meg a call which was great, a much needed catch up.

Queen of the world!

We wake up in the morning, room spinning, my head throbbing and feeling a little ill, but still very happy from the previous night. The early afternoon was mostly a write off for me anyway.

We check out of the room and put the bags in the reception, which was just a cupboard in the hotel with a mattress, and work out the rest of our day. We have to get to Chennai tomorrow, which involves an 18 hour coach trip tonight, which will be in the next post.

All the best everyone.

Jonno and the future Mrs Mihalop.

Diana:

So you know the main bits but I just thought I would add my version of what happened. As Jonno has said I had no idea what he was planning on my birthday and I can't believe how many signs I missed! I am so happy but am a little bit sad I can't celebrate with everyone in England for a while. After I had finished blubbing and we sat down in the restaurant for our first set of cocktails, we thought we should probably inform both of our parents of the news. However, the phone signal and internet connection was horrendous which then created an entertaining scene of Jonno calling his parents and shouting SKYPE SKYPE SKYPE down the phone in the hope that the message would get through so we could talk to them on skype. Being over 4000 miles away isn't easy! I also called my mum and even though successfully managed to get through I wasnt quite sure how to tell her the news, so ended up saying 'jonno asked me a question' to which my mum replied 'what question?' as if i was just calling to tell her that Jonno asked me where we wanted to go and eat or something.

Jonno has also not realised how much women like to talk and plan weddings. He looked pretty stunned when i mentioned the words 'dress', 'bridesmaids', 'ceremony' and 'guests' about an hour after the proposal. I dont know if he quite knows what he is getting himself in for!  Anyway, thank you to everyone who  has sent us messages to congratulate us and I am really looking forward to another reason for a party! (and of course getting married to the most amazing man)!!

Gokarna

Honestly, this one is particularly long. I'm sorry. The short version is, Diana has been ill and is getting better now, which shortened our stay in Gokarna. We're now at Palolem and plan to stay here for her birthday, and the day after we head to Chennai.

If you're patient enough, read on :)

Even on days where not a lot is planned, it feels like a lot is going on. I'll start by saying that unfortunately Diana has been ill the last few days with what is believed to be sinusitis, so the last few days have not been as enjoyable as they could have been, and Diana is now a walking drug cabinet. More about that further down.

We left Agonda to Canacona train station on the 21st of January. I had heavily researched the train journey due to the last one to goa being a bit of a shambles, and came to the following conclusions:

• There are two trains a day to Gokarna. One of these is at 3 am. We had one shot (one opportunity).
• The train consisted of purely 2S class carriages (second class seated).
• There were over 60 seats available on the train we were getting.
• I couldn't reserve one, because apparently banking with a UK bank isn't particularly useful with 80% of Indian online checkouts, instant rejection as the bank isn't from India. Ta.
• The train is, on average, 44 minutes late. To the point the website actually listed the time we should bother getting to the station.

Owing to past experience, we turned up 30 minutes early to when the train should arrive. An older Swedish couple were at the counter attempting to buy tickets but unable to understand the person's Indian accent. We let her know he was telling her she couldn't have a concession on this train as there was no senior carriage.

A few laughs as she handed over the amount for a full price ticket, 25 rupees each. That's circa 25p, seems more like a quota management system so the train doesn't get overly packed more than an attempt at profit, and makes you wonder why a concession exists in the first place. We buy our tickets and ask how long until the train, roughly an hour and a half (fine, I was expecting that and atleast we can relax) and we end up finding ourselves chatting to the Swedish couple for a while. Without going into too much detail, he barely said a thing as his English wasn't quite as good and everything he did say, his missus corrected him anyway. To sum it up, they had been to India 8 times and had never been out of Europe before, she took photos of strangers tattoos and then showed them to us (other strangers), and they had a hilarious story about a lawn mower that reduced them both almost to tears, yet wouldn't explain what the joke was.

Around now, a train arrives, with the route we're taking on the side. Unfortunately in my research, I forgot to note which direction the train was headed, and as it was around the time the train was due to arrive I grabbed my bags. This prompted almost the entire station to frantically grab their bags. Whilst running for the train, I asked someone where it was headed as it certainly hadn't been an hour and a half. North. Whoops. Panic not everyone, this is just the train expected to arrive 2 and a half hours ago. Everyone puts their bags back down, glares at me (probably, I wasn't looking) and attempts to restore their blood pressure to normal.

We are now informed the train would be in around half 2. Three hours after we got on the platform. And the only option we had. We wait. I made friends with the most timid dog in the world, who I've nicknamed Pepper.

The train arrives. We're in business. We get in the carriage and look for a seat.

Pepper - India edition

Everywhere seemed full, mostly because of people laying on seats instead of sitting. Quick look around and realising the only way to change carriage is to get off the train again, we manage to sit opposite each other, I take the gap between an Indian guy and woman with her two daughters, Diana sat at the edge of the seat where a man was sleeping.

Fortunately our train wasn't from platform 2...

Everything started okay, we had no idea what was going on but it turned into a strange Indian version of the three stooges. The guy sleeping sat up and another man sat at the end. It became clear the guy who was sleeping was an alcoholic or on something atleast, but definitely not completely coherent. The guy who sat down last randomly passed me his glasses. I looked puzzled as I had no idea what he wanted, the guy next to me took the glasses and proceeded to throw them off the train. Panicked, the man got up, to find he had just placed them on the floor. Hilarity and joking followed.

Then shouting in Hindi, no idea what was being said but the woman and her children swapped seats with some other Indian men. More Hindi, the vacant bloke smacked the guy with the glasses around the head. More shouting and the vacant guy puts his sandals on, clouds of dust flying off him, the woman and her daughter's move further away and we take their seats. Someone grabs the vacant guy by the scarf around his neck and drags him towards the train doors away from everyone. More noise, and the guy wanders off further down the carriage. A few more incidents followed but nothing wrong with some random, unexplained drama.

We're now at Gokarna road. So far our whole day has consisted of getting a train. Immediately a tuktuk driver grabs our attention to take us where we need to go.

Or so we thought. See, we booked a place called 'hotel international gokarna'. Looking this up on a map, this is about 10 minutes walk from 'Om Beach', which we were going to see. Great! To Om Beach fair tuktuk driver, on the double!

A fairly uneventful 10 mins pass, when we stop randomly. The driver looks at us and says 'passport, visa' and buggers off. Further ahead, there's a police checkpoint. Fair enough. I grab my bag with my valuables and passport and join the queue with Diana.

About 20 minutes of hanging around and we find out from a very grumpy British person they want to search all our bags, so Diana grabs our bags from the tuktuk whilst I hold the place in line. Another 10 minutes and I'm called in. They took my backpack and practically disassembled it, going through every tiny pocket, looking in folders and books, I assume a drug search of some description? He then proceeds to pat my large rucksack a little, which could have been 20kgs of Columbian marching powder for all he knew as he never so much as opened the top flap. I could go.

Diana's search was slightly easier. She lugged her bags through the door, placed them down, handed over her passport, and was told she could go. Along with every other female. Where's this gender equality, huh?

We're back on the road. Only this time, instead of just asking to go to Om Beach, I mention the hotel name. The driver slams on the brake and begins a u turn. Perhaps he knows a shortcut... We turn back towards the checkpoint but swing a left. I was concerned the police inquisition had all been in vain. Looks like a shortcut after all.

Just as soon as the tuktuk makes it to full speed, it comes to a stop. Now, my orienteering skills aren't perfect, but I knew we were around 2 miles from a beach here. Looked out the side of the tuktuk (I'd say window but that's quite a grandiose term for a hole) and sure enough, the 'hotel international gokarna'. A bit grander of an entrance than our previous hotel at Mumbai, but it'll do. The bathroom had a layer of dust over everything. Okay.

Even the TV was threatening

One thing was certain though, this was not Om beach. This was not a 10 minute walk away. We'd been duped. Or so we thought, until we realised later that there is a 'hotel international gokarna *beach resort*'. God forbid they could name this one 'beach resort international gokarna' or something.

Anyway, we wanted to try and find some accommodation closer to the beach, we were hungry and it was now dark. 'What a perfect time to explore!' we proclaimed, as we grabbed the absolute minimum and proceeded to find a tuktuk to the beach.

The route to the beach is confusing. It starts on a road towards the main town. You get as far as town, and the road bears right. To the left, narrow alleyways for pedestrians. And somehow tuktuks. Honestly, you could only just stand two abreast in this turning, and our driver whom I believe was Lewikesh Hamilton, two time Formula Rickshaw champion, took it, in the pitch black, like it was on tracks. I've never had so much respect and fear at the same time.

Then it's a sheer climb up unpaved roads, potholes, sharp rocks and blind bends we always took a precise racing line for. Thankfully nothing else was on the road, and our journey was completed in a three wheeled cage at around 230mph.

From here, on foot, we travel down approximately 3000 steps by vague torchlight to the beach. At this stage, Diana looked up and, short of the Sahara, saw the most fantastic display of stars we've ever seen. I've never been certain of constellations, seeing as stars are a myth in England, spread by the green party in an attempt to persuade the British public that we should look after the environment and turn off lights and stop murdering things, but I could make some out so clearly it felt, bizarrely, unnatural.

We continue along the beach, which was silent apart from the breaking waves and strange, unfitting rave music playing if you wandered close to a restaurant, and found a place to eat and ask about rooms. The waiter/owner/man was the most timid person I'd spoke to so far, and sounded like he knew what he was saying was correct, yet I was testing his responses. I don't know why.

We asked for prices of rooms. Now, the hotel we were at we were paying ~£5 for the night, which is pretty cheap. This place had a room for £2 a night, all were occupied so we couldn't see it, but we gave him the money for the following night, expecting very little. We ate there (also cheap, but not the greatest food) and returned to the 4000 steps up from the beach, for a downhill trip back to the hotel where I was certain we broke a new land speed record.

The next day we checked out and left our bags at the hotel to check out town. An amazing place if you want to buy typical hippy attire, including but not limited to bongos, out of tune guitars, hemp clothing and hacky sacks, but not a lot else as non Hindus are not allowed to go into the temples. We decided to go get our bags and head to our new luxury suite.

Let me tell you, firstly, both of us have hugely over packed for this trip. We realise this on day 1. It turns out, we really don't need most of the clothing we've brought, but apart from one near weightless top of Diana's, nothing has been disposed of yet. But there is little more exhausting than being in 33 degree sun, with a bag on your back and front, trying to negotiate down 5000 steps and across sand. Our new accommodation was about half the way along the beach, so not even close. And this time once we arrived there, it somehow had formed a damn moat. The sea wasn't anywhere near it, but must have been earlier that morning I guess? Either way, we had to wade our way to the entrance.

Anyway, we checked in. It was all we needed, but it wasn't much. The bed was a rock. Not metaphorically. The bed was a rock. But we had a mosquito net, power (when it didn't cut out), a fan and a wall thin enough to hear everything in the restaurant. The toilet was a shared Indian style toilet (more hygienic Molly..! No touching anything!) and the bathroom was a cupboard with a bucket of water and a jug. 2 quid, ok.

A bed to cause envy in the entire cast of The Flintstones

I'd love to say from here, all we did was chill on the beach watching the waves, but it was not long after this Diana was attacked. Fortunately she is okay now, but as soon as I heard the scream my heart raced and I had to fight off the attacker, who proceeded to just simply stand there, swaying and staring me down. Diana decided she couldn't stay here, went to gather her stuff and we were chased further down the beach. No serious harm was done, nothing was stolen, and I've attached a photo of the culprit below for photo fit purposes, you should be able to see him there.

Son of a... You'd better pray!

We returned to a restaurant to try and regain calm and order for a few hours, before going to sit on a rock to see the sun set and listen to the worst guitarists in the world playing the one chord they know.

For me, the room was fine and I was out like a light, however, Diana didn't sleep at all due to pain in her sinuses and gums. I woke up to her still in pain and she wanted to go to the doctor, so we locked up the room and across the beach, back up all 6000 steps, hopped into a tuktuk, the driver of which became a personal driver for a little while, and got to the doctors surgery. A couple of other people were here, but also waiting for the doctor. We were reliably informed he'd arrive at 10am (This turned out to be an Indian 10am, so around 10:30am).

The doctors surgery was as neat, tidy, clean and dust-free as an old flipflop. I didn't see the actual room Diana went into, but I'm reliably informed that old gloves and needles were strewn around, although boxes of new needles were around also, so I presume just laziness rather than re-use. A short while later, she's back, armed with Amoxycillin, some form of pain killer, and little bomb-shaped lozenges which, when diluted in hot water, smell like Vicks. Not bad for 300 rupees, and it seems to have helped now.

Not quite the luxuries of East Surrey!

Unfortunately, his advice for a speedy recovery included such things as 'stay in a dust free environment'. You saw the room. Hell, finding a dust free environment in India is harder than understanding string theory. Almost. We get our tuktuk back to the beach, ask him to wait whilst we traverse god knows how many stairs it is, get our bags, inform the timid bloke at the counter we had to check out (this time instead of a pond to wade through, it had developed its own moat?), back over the beach keeping a watch out for angry insects who don't want us on their patch, back up the bloody stairs with our over packed bags, into the tuktuk, back to where we started in the first place at the Hotel International Gokarna. The last couple of days have felt a little groundhoggy.

Moat to the restaurant/room

To prevent this, we didn't stay in the same hotel, but went a little further down the road and found another at the same price. Same thing though, maybe slightly cleaner. Managed to get Diana to sleep, and she's feeling better for it.

Today, we have returned to Canacona and onwards to Palolem, where for Diana's benefit we have checked into a proper hotel for a couple of nights (Clean sheets, hot water, soft bed/pillows, WiFi in the room. Luxurious!) to try and help her recover, although I have a feeling the two-for-one cocktails (have I mentioned this before?) could hinder the process. The journey was far less eventful, we arrived at the station, this time simply on time, to be told the train would be 40 minutes late. That all? Sure. To be fair, it wasn't far off, probably around an hour late. Glad we didn't get there earlier this time. We bought our ticket, a couple of cups of tea each (7p each, can't go wrong) and some more water, and proceeded to the platform to wait. Wildly uneventful, apart from a guy on the platform who was about as pretentious as you can physically be to a lady and who we thought was her partner but turned out to be her 'travelling friend'. You all know the sort of guy, it's the one the 'Gap yah' video is based around. Quotes such as:

• 'Yah my friend owns part of a rainforest...'
• 'I volunteered there and they said they didn't need help but UH MUH GUHD they needed help, they had no idea what they were doing'
• 'I brew my own tea cultivated with special bacteria, it has to have organic unrefined sugar but I left it in my room, you cant use normal crappy sugar' *just don't put any bloody sugar in it?*
• 'Whats your star sign? I can work out your rising star sign, its important you know it, you can find out on sites but I can tell you'
• 'I own a vegan gluten free goose that shits golden eggs and can tell you your rising star ... ' 

By this point, I had zoned out and the train was coming, so we wandered up the carriages and never did find out if he was in fact our lord and saviour, but I'm fairly sure he must have been.

Train journey was entirely uneventful, nice and calm, got off at Canacona and a quick tuktuk to Palolem. Checked in, had lunch, looked around the shops, Diana got attacked (by a human this time) and forced to wear a bindi, and now we're sat in our plush accommodation.

Hope everything is well at home, we're at this hotel for 2 nights (Don't want to bankrupt ourselves after all, this is over 15 quid a night! That's around 6 cocktails!) and then, depending on Diana's health, we'll look for something a little cheaper in the area, because £15 is £15 more than Diana wants to spend on accommodation really.

All the best to everyone at home, hope it's warmed up a little!


Jonno

Goa

Ah, Goa. So different to Mumbai, it's hard to comprehend the relative close proximity of the two.

Not the worst view in the world huh?

How different exactly? I'm currently sat in one of the most peaceful places I've ever been, Agonda beach. Aside from the chorus of dog barks early in the morning causing a synchronous cloud of howling over the entire area, an event that takes an incredible amount of effort to sleep through, all there is to hear is the crashing of waves and the clink of cocktail glasses being discarded (I may have mentioned last year, but two cocktails for the equivalent of £2 is nothing to be sniffed at).

Not a backpacker friendly entrance to the beach...!

We arrived here early on Sunday, Diana feeling particularly rough with a cold and no sleep on our luxurious overnight train, that instead of roughing it on a local bus we took a prepaid taxi straight here. Upon arriving, we asked the first place we saw for a room and were informed they had none, but next door did. They advised they had rooms for 1200 rupees (circa £12), which although cheap, just isn't good enough. Diana snuck in a 'we were looking for around 800' expecting to be told no, but low and behold, a structure with a door, bed, mosquito net and basic bathroom was available at this price. The speed in which he agreed the room was available had me wondering if the price was still higher than he was after.

What do you reckon Miss Crook? The toilet seat is removable (Not by design so much as lack of maintenance...)

The room sufficed anyway, we went to a place a couple of beach restaurants down where they had sun beds available and had brunch. Prices of food are considerably more than Mumbai here, average meal costing £2-3 instead of £0.50 - 1, but still not exactly expensive for a meal on a seafront with WiFi and did I mention, £2 for two cocktails?

Diana wasn't feeling very good at this point and returned to the room, I continued reading my magazine for a while. Not long after, an American couple ask for a room at the bar, to be told they are 1200 rs. The couple were just as unhappy to pay this mediocre sum as we were (some huts have tv and ac and all sorts for a whopping 5000 rs, 1200 rs honestly isn't that bad but it seems we all have a taste for a deal, and when you see the pictures you may wonder whether they are actually worth this much). The barman then asked the price they were willing to pay. A heavy American accented male voice stated 'we know what we want to pay and you ain't got it). Quick as a flash, the guy said they had rooms for 600, where both mine and this couples ears pricked up. We'd definitely over bid on our place, but only committed to one night. They all leave and I finish up reading half of my magazine and return to our room to find an unconscious Diana, who unfortunately I had to wake as the door only opened from the inside.

Armed with my new knowledge, we later head out for dinner with the aim of enquiring on prices of nearby other huts, with a goal to shave pounds, perhaps as much as 3 pounds, off our accommodation for the next night's. Tried a couple of places and got told they were worth their weight in gold bullion, so returned to the place I heard the previous conversation.

"Do you have any cheap rooms available?"
"What sort of price, sir?"
"We were thinking around 500" (Ballsy, I know. That's just a shade over 5 British pounds for the views you saw above).
*some deliberation ensues between staff*
"Yes we have accommodation we can show you in the morning."

Jackpot. £12, down to £8, down to £5. We're rolling in reddies. With hindsight, I imagine we could have dropped another 1 or 2 hundred rs, but we're not outright bandits (perhaps by the end of our travels when money's incredibly tight and I've had more practice and a more solid poker face). For now, we're living on peanuts. And this room had towels and a toilet seat attached to the toilet (just).

Toilet seat attached but won't stay up. A marked improvement.

Nout to complain about here for a fiver!

The area is predominantly tourists (thick British and American accents replace the previously manic sounding Hindi counterparts. In fact, Hindi is a rarity to hear, I've heard more German...). Very few people selling tat, although somehow I always attract a bongo salesman, and only a few beggars, it's obvious why so many tourists are here escaping the negative temperatures at home.

This is not exactly what were traveling for, but has given us a chance to catch up with plans (WiFi is common here) and unwind a little before all the stress kicks in again. More train journeys to follow, the last ones were incredibly stressful but now we know what to do and expect.

Give or take a day or twos accommodation, we now have until the 8th of March planned, with us staying at a reforestation project in Pondicherry for approx £8 a day for the month of February (and involving the luxury of an 18 hour coach journey to get there, assuming we manage to find it), where we will experience delights of 6 am manual labour, vegan diets fully catered for, and toilet waste being separated and used as fertiliser. And a few hours a day of charging devices from solar power, plus use of their internet connection. Should be interesting...?

We should also be experiencing the Hindi festival of Holi, the festival of colours, in Jaipur. Apparently they usually have an elephant festival on holi eve, however this may be cancelled due to animal rights, so it's likely the elephants aren't treated well and hopefully it's being replaced by a different, animal friendly event if this is the case. After March 8th though, we have nothing yet worked out.

Tomorrow we are leaving to Gokarna, neither of us quite know what to expect but we're using the trains again, so it can only be a fun experience and gives us a chance to fulfil our lifelong dreams of enjoying the life of a sardine confined to a tin once more.

All the best to everyone at home, we're thinking of you in our 33 degree sunshine...

A horizon so straight you could use it as a ruler

And of course, two for £2 cocktails... Best of luck all, huddle up nice and warm!

Jonno

Mumbai continued

Well we have had a busy few days, sometimes we have felt like we are winning but other times India has nearly beaten us.

We had a few more days in Mumbai, and as much as I love that city it is almost impossible to get anything done. We originally planned to get the boat to the ‘Elephanta’ caves one day but as we got to the place to get the boat from we discovered that there was an army day and it was closed that day. There has been various times we have wanted an item that we have seen in many shops and places before but as soon as we decide we need it then magically all the places seem to disappear. We were also sent on a goose chase from the train ticket booking office to get photocopies of our passports which took about 40 minutes to find a photocopy shop, and when we returned to the ticket office with photocopies in hand the guy said he didn’t need them….im sure they had a great time laughing at the silly tourists running around.

We did manage to get a few bits done though, and did return 2 days later to the ‘Elephanta’ caves. This was recommended as a must do in Mumbai and although the caves were impressive with giant statues of the hindu gods carved into the walls, the whole 200 steps and path leading to the cave was surrounded on both sides by souvenir stalls, which kind of took away the magic of the place. I know nothing says that you have visited a beautiful historical site like a carved wooden snake but the plastic ‘ben 10’ water pistols were a bit far.

We also went to visit the lovely Raju and Shilpa Ram, who have a project in Mumbai called ‘Way True Life’ which is funded by the Ashtead/Leatherhead based charity Rianna’s Fund. Way True Life have set up a children’s home, a slum pre school and education project, a tailoring programme for girls who are ‘rag pickers’ (people who sort through rubbish and collect plastics and other items they can sell on for recycling) to enable them to learn a skill so they can have a better vocation, and other outreach programmes across the slums. Raju and Shilpa met us and took us to visit the pre school and the tailoring project. The room was a small hut, about 2 by 5 metres but they managed to get quite a few children in, and the children recited numbers and the alphabet in English and were given chalk boards to practice writing. Jonno did not do very well in the lesson, and instead of concentrating on the teacher he was getting distracted by the naughty village boys hanging around the door. Shameful behaviour Jonno! Way True Life is an amazing project though and Raju and Shilpa are the nicest people you could meet and are so passionate about what they do, so it was lovely to be able to go and visit them on our trip.

Our time in Mumbai was ending, and we had got tickets for an overnight sleeper train from Mumbai to Goa. Booking a train journey is not as simple as in England though, where you book a ticket and get on the train. Trains in India can be booked and cancelled at short notice without charge, so they have invented the wonderful ‘Waitlist’ system in which you can book a train but not actually have a ticket unless someone else cancels, which might or might not happen the day before or the day of the journey. We had booked a train to Goa before we left England, but Jonno was put on Waitlist 1 (so if one person cancels he has a space) and only found out that he had got a confirmed place a few hours before the train was due to leave. We had to try and get back from the city centre to our hotel to collect our bags to get back to the main train station to get a train to the station where the sleeper train left. Mission begun:  many taxi drivers either refused to take us to the hotel or wanted to charge us a lot of money as it was rush hour, so we had to start walking, and did eventually manage to find a taxi that would do it and use the taxi meter. But yes it was rush hour and we had to drive through the area of the biggest marketplace in Mumbai, so it wasn’t a quick journey. After collecting our bags and finding a taxi to negotiate us back through the rush hour traffic to one of the central main stations, we got into the station to find that all the signs and announcements were in Hindi, so there was a bit more panic and darting from platform to platform to find the right train. We boarded the train, and were lucky that the train started from that station so we had seats and tucked our bags under the seats. However, as we went through the first few stations more and more people got on until it became the typical heaving Indian train, Jonno and I started to give each other nervous looks. How were we going to negotiate getting ourselves and all of our bags through the mass of bodies to the exit when it was our stop and the train only stops at the station for 10 seconds? For a few more stops we prayed that lots of people would get off before our stop and when that did not work we had to talk tactics.

The only real tactic we came up with was to start getting ready the stop before and when the time comes- we push. So that’s what we did, and luckily we were successful. The other Indian passengers on the train were so helpful and even helped us put our bags on before leaving the train, which gave us a fighting chance. Once we had got to the station where we were getting the sleeper train we had 45 minutes to spare, which we had planned to use to get some drinks and a few snacks for the train, and generally relax. The only thing we had to do first was get a ticket printed that had our confirmed ticket status on, so we walked up the platform in search of the ticket office. The first office we found the man behind the counter told us the train would be on platform 6 or 7, but did not seem to know where we could get our ticket printed. We went up to a few information desks who pointed us in the direction of another ticket office, who did not know what to do either but suggested there was a different ticket office on the first floor we could try. The time was ticking and we were frantically running up and down the station looking for this other ticket office with all our bags piled on us. We found the first floor ticket office who told us we did not need another ticket to be printed, so all our efforts were fruitless. The next issue was finding out the platform number, which nobody knew and there were no announcements or boards with any information. It was at this point Jonno exclaimed-‘ I am done with this country!’ So I sat him down with the bags and found a nice old Indian couple with suitcases who told me they were going to Goa too, so we followed them which was lucky because the platform changed last minute. The train was delayed by an hour after all of that, and with one final sprint to the other end of the train to find our carriage, we were on.

The train journey itself was relatively uneventful apart from the fact that I have developed a heavy cold so did not get much sleep at all, and I felt sorry for the other people in the carriage having to put up with a whole night of coughing and sneezing. We got to Goa with an area in mind but no accommodation booked, and thankfully the second set of beach huts we asked had a room free. So here we are in Goa which feels like a completely different world to Mumbai, the crazy traffic and horn beeping replaced (mostly) by the sound of the waves and the crowds of people replaced by tourists sitting on the beach or in cafes by the beach. Just a shame I don’t feel well enough to appreciate the beach right now. I am surrounded by tissues, breaking out into coughing fits and jonno is sleeping…..yet again! How that boy does it I don’t know!