Heaven is an Unlimited Thali

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In a country where beer is served in teapots as the sight of the bottle can easily offend, yet where defecating on the street or calls to prayer being blasted out at all hours, at Allah knows what volume is perfectly acceptable, things were bound to be a bit weird.

We started our Indian journey in a taxi at 3am weaving through Delhi’s bumpy streets shared with numerous farmyard animals past scores of people asleep on every spare piece of pavement, under tarpaulin, on sheets, across rickshaws - literally everywhere. The following lunchtime we’re settled in a very busy restaurant shoulder to shoulder with locals eating the biggest 10 dish thali you’ve ever seen, complete with breads, papads, rice and pudding after which we waddled home feeling more than a little gluttonous. It was this contrast of affluence and poverty we met at every turn in India.

India really cannot be compared to anywhere else we’ve been. At times we felt as though we were on some kind of film set, the place is so perfectly untouched, and so undoubtably Indian! The only obvious outside influence being the impeccable English most people have - although more often than not they struggled to understand our non-Indian accent! I am sure there is no other country that houses such an important international business centre in such shabby buildings with camels roaming the rubbish-laden streets below. So destined to progress yet with the sheer number of people below the poverty line it’s certain to be an uphill struggle that will take a very long time.

Travelling in India was easy with the reliable, comfortable train services, complete with delicious, bargainous onboard food and drink to while away the 18 hour journeys. Although the novelty of the men walking the aisles with fresh samosas and chai at 4am wore thin pretty quickly. Off the train buying tickets was infuriating, as they use the most un-British queuing system, so without exception we’d be left at the back of the queue unable to spread our limbs any further with sneaky arms still managing to slide past. Actually finding the right platform was also very tiresome as the Indian vagueness combined with a continual ‘yes’ answer to everything proved unfathomable. Oh, and to make matters harder the head wobble would be thrown in for good measure whose spring like bounce could mean yes, no, maybe or just hello. Argh!

Travelling as a women was interesting (for one of us!) Even with Matt by my side the average male would gawp in such a way I would wonder if I had sprung a second head. Ahmedabad was the worst of this when rickshaws full of families would pull up beside us just to have a good stare. We didn’t really encounter many Indian women for a while as men monopolise all the hotel, restaurant and service sector roles. Strangely, many women were enlisted in hard labour, including road building - still wearing their beautiful saris. Yet in places like Mumbai we saw women out in groups in similar clothes to westerners - this is the new India. Although it's difficult to see how equality will ever be that, in a country that allows women to queue-jump and has designated train carriages and sides of buses - hardly equal. But for that to change they’d first have to throw a bucket of cold water on the over-excited groping men!

In Junagadh (Gujurat) we joined the pilgrims and saddhus on a slow hot walk up 10 000 steps to a beautiful temple complex perched on a cliff. This provoked many stares as we were the only westerners, but when we smiled more often than not we were met with a big grin and shake of the hand.

Every state seemed to be different with a new language and speciality thali to try! We spent the first half in the north west which was hot, dusty and deserty and full of palaces and forts. We were up in Jodhpur for India’s Independence Day and spent the evening with the colourful sari sellers among the blue-painted houses watching the hundreds of kites in the sky. The local children were kite running so the sky was crammed with small kites ducking, diving and fighting followed by crowds of kids chasing the felled kites through the tiny, winding alleyways.

The south had a calmer air with more palm trees and rice paddies and even some pavements to walk on. After the grimy big cities it was great to be punted along Kerala’s backwaters, stroll the calm colonial French streets of Pondicherry and while away an evening in a relaxing Portuguese-Indian restaurant in Goa.

Our main activity throughout India was definitely eating and unbelievably we still are still getting excited before each and every curry we have... three times a day! We temporarily turned vegetarian, which we felt was a good idea after walking past a couple of markets selling meat - the stench was rancid. We could also understand why they don’t eat cows, they were pretty skinny, living off a diet of cardboard boxes and rubbish. The sacred beasts were quite intelligent though, I have no idea how they know which side of the jam packed roads to walk along, and when to give way at roundabouts! They could certainly teach the rest of the road users a thing or two! The food we did have was absolutely delicious, the veg menus were extensive and far superior to anything we have in England. Oddly though the things we did recognise from home and eagerly tested out were wildly different, like the incredibly sweet vindaloos and jalfrezis. We were a little disappointed with the spiciness though, waiters were always keen to offer guidance ‘but this is very spicy sir, would you perhaps prefer some cheese?’, yet even after affirmation ‘yes very spicy please’ we never reached for the tissues. I’m not sure the average Indian would cope with an English curry!

People watching was another activity in itself. From the 60s throwback high waisted, tight, flared trousers, the pensioners who’d dye both grey hair and beard bright orange to stave off old age, to the most prize-worthy moustaches that made Matt green with envy! The men were also pretty tactile and often we’d catch them cycling hand in hand and even a policeman and army officer enjoying a stroll, fingers entwined. There was also a small window for animal spotting. Unfortunately all the elephants we saw had sadly been stripped of their old spirit and were in use as people carriers, but there were plenty of monkeys and langurs guarding most temples, awaiting offerings of monkey nuts and naan bread.

Of course the main things India offered were the plentiful temples and interesting architecture. From the magnificent Taj Mahal, the ornate and intricately colourful Shree Meenakshmi temple in Madurai to all the smaller ones in between. Religion in India was embedded throughout, although as with everywhere else in the world, still the main cause (or excuse) for disagreement and violence.

We initially approached India with some degree of trepidation - always hearing how unbearable the hassle was going to be, touts and beggars grabbing you at every corner and filth everywhere. In reality, it was none of those things - the hassle was no worse than many other places in Asia, and having worked in Kings Cross for so long the filth was quite bearable. What we did find difficult after time though was the utter confusion and frustration that India throws up constantly - why the first five things you try to order on a menu would always be met with a shake of the head, why the price of a bottle of water would require a conversation between four or five guys before you could be privy to it, hotel reservations NEVER being written down, everything forgotten always, foreigner entrance fees being 50 times higher than that for Indians, why auto rickshaw drivers would be falling over themselves to get you in, then would drive off in disgust when you say where you want to go, cheese sandwiches being served minus the cheese without any comment in the hope you’d not notice (ok this only happened once in a weakened moment), washing always returned wet, taxis always ‘on its way sir' an hour after the booked time and why ‘yes’ was the eternal answer to every single question ever.

But after a while you realise you cannot beat it or change it, and one of the most endearing things about India, is that it is so Indian! Despite its turbulent history it feels as though nothing can touch or alter India and things or people can not be separated from it. India is its own land and its people, customs and highly confusing hospitality all part of it, and was never meant to be understood by outsiders... or probably insiders either.

And now this is it… the last of 16 countries in 20 months. We’ve said campai, namaste, g’day and gracias. We’ve haggled over bolivianos, kip, dong and ringgits. We’ve spent days sleeping upright on buses and trains, been shocked by the destruction of our planet, warmed by the kindness of people, learnt so much and realised how incredibly fortunate we are. And definitely realised the importance of our family and friends, so can’t wait to get home and see you all... before we realise we need to get away again...

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Photos

The Tadge
In all its marble splendour

Jaipur Fort
And the incredibly friendly locals on the way up

On the 10,000 Steps of Girnar Hill
Langurs taking advantage of the pilgrims' rations

The Temples in the Clouds
Atop Girnar Hill

Coconut Drying
In the Keralan backwaters