The city of Lakes and a party in the Jungle

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Lotty's version;

We piled off the bus, each proclaiming about how our personal space had been invaded. Turns out we were lucky having a ladder up to the sleeper cabins next to us. People had locals sharing their seats, sitting on their arm rest, Richard even had a little old lady sit beneath his legs. We got into tuktuks to our hotel, throughout our India trip the accommodation had got progressively better and this hotel was no exception! On the way in we had passed miles and miles of marble sellers, literally thousands of them on the side of the road, and its an extremely inexpensive product meaning the whole hotel was clad from floor to roof in it. After no where near enough time to wash Indian bus off ourselves we set out for dinner. Sitting on a candle lit roof terrace, it quickly became obvious why this city is known as one of the most beautiful. It has many lakes, in one is the lake palace, completely made from marble and right in the middle of the lake, the kingonce resided there but it is now an exclusive five star hotel. There is also the monsoon palace, lit up high in the hills and then the city palace was eeirily lit up, just above our heads.

The next morning we had an orientation walk around Udaipur to get our bearings and also a visit to an art shop (as thats something Udaipur is famous for) which included demonstrations of their painting style, a description of what materials they use; so brushes from camel eyelashes and chipmunk tails and paint from cow urine, and they painted us each a little miniture on a finger nail which looked amazing!

Then were set free to do our own thing. We set off as a group of six first for lunch, then to the city palace museum. Lunch was interesting, I stupidly ordered a chicken burger, still feeling a little ill, I should have realised it would be mashed up chicken and onion! The city palace is now split into the kings quarters, a hotel and the museum. The museum is a large collection of narrow corridors and beautifully decorated rooms. There was a huge weapons collection with bayonets, double bladed swords and pistols that were also daggers. The walls were lined with pictures describing different bloody events in indias turbulant history, for example one showing how the king was such an incredible swordsman he allegedly sliced in half both an oponant and his horse in one stroke! There was also a whole room dedicated to the same kings favourite horse which was sweet. Apparently the horse died saving the kings life so he was celebrated. After we saw others from our group sat at the city palace restaurant with wine! We thought this was a fantastic idea so joined them. I had a strawberry daiquiri which was far more fitting for the glorious weather that a stuffy museum! Sat in the palace walls it felt like we were somewhere in Europe, not the middle of India, it was beautiful! From there we decided to wander through the market and make our way to a cable car. We were quickly reminded we were still in India as suddenly we heard loud music, cannons and shouting . Out of nowhere a truck with a large statue of Ganesh and a speaker system appeared, followed by a procession of pink people dancing and setting off firecrackers. We managed to avoid the pink powder and after standing and watching the bedlam we escaped to recommence our walk. We stopped at a couple of shops along the way and were just begginning to wonder if we should get a tuktuk when we set upon another procession, this time we were unable to just watch, a huge old Indian woman grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the dancing crowd. She attempted teaching me to dance but pretty soon I think she realised I was a lost cause and moved onto another victim, I quickly scarpered to join Planty, Greg and Louise who were stood laughing and taking pictures! After rescuing the other members of our group we decided it was wise to get a tuktuk, six of us piled into it and it chugged and struggled with the climb to the cable car station. Most people would probably not feel comfortable getting in a cable car in India and the first few judders and shakes were met with nervous laughs, however it was quite smooth and not very long so we were soon at the top of the hill. From there we could look down over Udaipur. Its gorgeous, its all lakes, hills and palaces. Furthermore we could see the point the Ganesh festival was ending and thought we would check it out. We made our way down and watched them for a while, they were dancing and shouting and more and more statues of Ganesh were being added to the hundreds at the side of the lake. We began making our way round the side of the lake but every two minutes we met another parade with more and more people -mostly children dancing and being covered on different colour powder. They all wanted you to join and dance back the way we had come, however we politely refused as we had to get back at this point. When we finally made it back to the hotel we quickly showerd and prepared to make our way to a cultural dance performance. With the continuing party that was more difficult than imagined. We piled into tuk tuks but soon it was faster to go on foot. I don't think the party goers had stopped all day and by this point they were very sweaty and very smelly. We pushed through them trying not to breathe in until we reached the location of the show. I'm not sure where it was but it was very old and gothic looking, with bats flying around. The show was better then I expected. The woman dancing with 10 pots on her head was probably the most impressive. But by the time we left I was starving! Dinner was at the whistling teal and the boys quickly decided it was a good idea to go back the next day for beer whilst we were getting henna done as it was round the corner. The owner was really welcoming, but the food took ages and I was not feeling great. We had planned drinks on the roof terrace afterwards but I didn't stay long.

We began the next day with a cooking class. We were all sat in a semi circle around a bench and given a pen and paper, like a practical lesson in school. That was the only similarity however as we were sat on plastic chairs on a roof terrace with the sounds of India all around us and our teachers were two little Indian men in his and hers floral aprons with a huge array of spices and some veg. We made chai, samosas, palak paneer, daal and veg curries, rice and chappati. By "we made" I mean sat and took notes.

I will put the recipes at the end of this entry, however they are mostly get a load of ingredients and throw them in a pan. Afterwards us girls stayed for henna and the boys went to drink beer and smoke shisha. Our hennas literally took hours. It was amazing, the lady just freehanded it all over my hand and arm. In the time we were there she told us that Indian woman do not get henna until they are married, on their wedding day they pay thousands to get intricate detail all over their arms, legs and bellies and the darker it goes the more your husband loves you. She also said s**t alot and I think that was the extent of her English. We sat there with it getting later and later half expecting the boys to come and find us but knowing that was very unlikely. We ended up braving the trip to the bar and that made me realise how much easier it is travelling with planty. Walking through india as a couple of girls was the most uncomfortable experience! Especially as Amanda had her henna on her foot and had braved barefoot!

When we arrived the boys had been through three beers and were on their second shisha. We had an hour before a sunset boat ride so it was decided we should get another round. 45 minutes later we decided we should finish the drinks and leave. Greg, another in our group had picked up some young indian admirers and after having a photo with them we knew we really had to hurry. Amanda and I went to flag down a tuk tuk whilst the boys frnded them off. We began climbing into one when the boys came running out shouting "quick lets go they're talking about Facebook" we piled into our tuk tuk, another driver came over and started telling us we really should take two but we refused and instructed our tuk tuk driver to DRIVE!! He just stood sipping his chai, ambled over to put his glass down and eventually got in and started his engine. Negotiating the narrow, hilly streets of Udaipur it became apparent that we were far too heavy for our little tuk tuk. At one point Rick and Greg had to get out and push. We arrived at the laal ghat were the boat left from and everyone was waiting. The boat ride was nice, it was good to see Udaipur and all the palaces from that angle and as the light changed but it wasn't anything to rave about and in truth we were relieved when we were back on dry land. From there we did some brief shopping as I wanted to buy a couple of prezzis. The prices given by the shop keeper where not even worth bartering down saving alot of hassle. Even if we were ripped off we got a bargain and im not arguing over pennies when I know he needs it far more than I do. After paying we casually enquired where we could get mustard oil as we had been told its good for henna. "follow me" was the reply and we did.. Like lambs to the slaughter! After about five minutes I began to panic, I was thinking we'll be made to buy loads and he'll want a massive tip. Eventually he found a shop and shouted in. The oil was around 12p for a little bottle and he refused to take even a 20p tip! I was suprised, we were so worried and have been on our guard the whole trip. It was refreshing to have someone help us out without their main interest being our money. Afterwards we went back to our hotel with a bottle of rum and a takeaway pizza. Unfortunatly Planty had some bad news about his Nanas health while we were ordering pizza which knocked us down a little, but after speaking to her and a couple of rums he was back on form! As the conversation between Planty and Rick shifted to toilet talk I thought it best i left to Skype my parents. It was great to speak to them as hearing about plantys Nana made me think about how far away we are!

The next day we left for Ranakpur, I was relieved I'd skyped the night before as we ended up spending my mums birthday in the middle of nowhere without any reception! We got jeeps to Ranakpur, they were clearly not made for us tall westerners and we spent over two hours crouched and cramped hitting the track in a vehicle that has probably never had a service in its life! We got more and more rural, going through green hills that wouldn't look out of place in the lakes, except for the occasional monkey jumping through the trees. It also got hotter and hotter as we climbed higher. Eventually we stopped in a dusty clearing in the trees at the side of the road. There were dogs sunbathing and half naked children playing. "you go that way" our driver instructed seeing our confused faces. We made our way up a narrow path, past "reception" which was like a little checkpoint at the side of the path to the restaurant. It was so beautifu though. The rooms were little cottages set in the forest (ours even had a bridge to it) with an amazing view over a stream and it was so peaceful! Furthermore it had a pool that looked clean. And after a quick bite to eat we were sat by it with a kingfisher. Dinner was one of those experiences that defines India, Shaz (our group leader) had said the salad here is safe to eat, I have been craving salad, so much so I ordered the "onion salad" I'm not sure what I expected from this, what I really should have expected was a plate of onion, because that is what I recieved!

After lunch we had the option to go on a nature walk to see how the local farming community lived, however we were hot, tired and comfortable. With the prospect of the overnight train looming the next day we opted to remain by the pool. As it was 5 years since planty and I started going out and the trip is Rick and Amandas honeymoon it was decided we should celebrate and out came the rum! The beautiful peace of the jungle where the only sounds were the crickets and the stream was shattered by Indian trance music and the squeals, shouts and hysterics that accompanies each ridiculous drinking game. I still wasn't feeling great so went for a nap. By the time I rejoined the group a campfire had been lit, two bottles of rum had been drunk and the conversation had become more random and obscene! Shaz has a little head wobble he does when he doesn't know the answer to something and it gets progressively more prounounced as he gets drunker. We were getting braver so were copying him. We must have looked like a bunch of demented Churchill dogs! We were joined by a hotel dog who jumped up next to shaz. He told us how the hotel used to have four dogs but one day a hyena came in and one of them fought it and ended up dying. When I questioned the existance of hyenas in the Indian jungle he assured me there used to be however the government went in and shot them all. The next day, with clearer heads we deduced he probably mean't wolves, however that and his journey time estimates became abit of a standing joke for the rest of the trip!

The next day we were given a stupidly early checkout time, therefore we crawled to breakfast, I ordered boiled eggs and got four. Then we crawled to the pool and caught some sun before our impending train journey. We used jeeps again to get to the station which was in falna. Luckily the older group pinched the deluxe jeep meaning we had an excuse to subtly move to a slightly nicer one than the previous day, by nicer i mean we could sit upright! On the way we stopped at a Jain temple. Im not too sure on any of the details apart from it is a completly marble structure, is one of indias biggest Jain temples and has 1444 pillars. Everywhere was engraved with amazing detail, it was a beautiful building and watching the positions people were getting into to get the best photographs kept us amused, as did the boys pants which they paid 20 rupees to wear as legs had to be covered. They were nice pants....





Planty's version;

After a long, tiring journey we arrived in Udaipur and where quickly whisked to our hotels by tuk tuk's. We checked in and after a quick shower and change, we met back in the hotel lobby to make our way to our evening meal, were we where taken again by tuk tuk's. The streets in the centre of Udaipur are narrow and steep, after struggling to make it up one of the streets our driver muttered a few words of Hindi which we assumed was him telling us our restaurant was across the road. We got out and started to walk off, when he made it to the top of the street and ushered us back into the tuk tuk, basically highlighting that we where all to fat for his poor little tuk tuk to cope with. We eventually reached the rooftop restaurant to be greeted by a magnificent view of Udaipur lake. The lake has a 5 star hotel situated in the middle of it, and a palace that is open for tourists to visit. The city palace overlooks the lake, and in the evening when it is lit up, the entire surrounding area is amazing. Again, our dinner was fantastic, we got a discounted rate on the beers, which made them even cheaper than most places. I had a good feeling about Udaipur, our guide had said it was a nice place, and on first impressions, he was right.



Next morning we went out for our orientation walk of the town, once again being bombarded with facts and history about Udaipur. The scenery was again different from the other places we had visited, although we still got the constant slack jawed look as if we'd found a cure for Delhi belly. As I mentioned before, the narrow streets made for an interesting walk as the usual modes of transport attempted to navigate themselves down streets without crashing into each other, people or cows. Once the walk was over, a few of us decided to grab a bite to eat before seeing the city palace and the rest of the town. The palace was well maintained and quite big, all though my only criticism is that the place must have been built for the smurf's of India, I spent the entire time in there having to watch my head because the corridors had no headroom. I'm not exactly short, but I'm no giant, it was beginning to be a bit of a pain in the arse. On the way out we stopped for a beer, not that I'm an alcoholic or anything, but we needed a reason to rest our legs before continuing our day, a day which would be remembered for years to come, mostly for the good experiences.



On the way back down the hill towards the centre of the town, we heard some load music, cheering and the occasional make shift cannon being set off, curious as to what the hell was going on, we watched as a trucks with massive speaker stacks slowly drove towards us, with people covered in pink powder paint danced behind, we forgot that it was the Ganesh festival that day. We watched on in amusement as everyone joined in, smiling and basically having the time of their lives, even though a cannon was sometimes fired into the air just above them. We got slightly caught up in the action with paint being flung in our direction, with some of our group having pink paint land on them.



Full of smiles after what we had witnessed, we walked for a while to find a tuk tuk to take us to the cable car up the hill in Udaipur to an observation area which overlooks the town. 6 of us piled into the tuk tuk, with me and another guy in the boot, and as we headed to the cable car station, we passed a small lake with loads of Ganesh statues displayed all around it, we had a feeling that this would be the place where people would be heading that night. Once more our tuk tuk struggled up a hill, while I was hanging out of the boot wondering if we would end up rolling backwards down the hill, but surprisingly, we made it to the top. Next was the cable car ride to the top, and it was only when we started up the hill that I realised what I was doing, a cable car ride, in India, surely this was going to end badly. I've been in cable cars before, at Alton Towers, and up mount Tiede in Tenerife, both major tourist sites, but they both felt unsafe, I was certain the one in Udaipur was going to be horrendous, but yet again, I was proved wrong. The journey was over in a couple of minutes, but the ride up there was really smooth and felt secure, and the best thing was when we got to the top, the view was incredible. A view of the lake, and the entire town, we could still hear the cannon fire from the parade we had been caught up in only minutes earlier, my eyes furiously scanning the streets in the distance for signs of smoke and pink paint, while me ears where trying to pin point the music and banging of the drums. We had figured out that the parade was heading for the small lake below us, and headed down to make our way back to the hotel, but first, was walked around the lake to see if we could catch the parade.



We where greeted by a different parade, a bigger one, with more people and more pink paint, they blocked the road while all the guys and girls took it in turn to do a sort of group dance to the music being blasted of the back of a small truck. As we where the only westerners there, we stuck out like a giraffe at a football match, and started to notice everyone looking at us curiously, smiling and taking pictures of us, one small lad came over and threw some paint in our direction, which missed, but we stayed on to watch. Rick (the aussie guy on our group) got roped into dancing with them while we watched on bemused by the entire thing, a few minutes later we decided that was enough, made our way around the parade and off down the road, thinking it was all over, unfortunately, we were wrong.



Not much further down the road, we heard more music, more cheering and more cannons. Just when we thought we had escaped the parades, another one turned up, dancing and getting us to join in, some of the group did, others didn't. All the locals wanted was for us to join in, they just wanted us to be a part of their festival and to have fun with them, it was amazing, the sights, sounds, colours, and people having fun in the middle of the day. We passed that parade and found ourselves greeted by another one, Rick pointed out that their home-made cannon had '007 James Bond' written on the side, and was subsequently dragged in to dance with them. To my surprise, they handed him the cannon, showed him how to use it and loaded it up, but the cannon never went off, so what did they do to solve the problem? Add more gunpowder, obviously. A tense few moments passed by, Rick looking nervous as hell holding this unexploded cannon, and eventually 'BOOM!!!!', the cannon went off, much to the delight of the locals, who carried on their frenzied dancing on the streets as Rick re-joined us looking as if he'd just witnessed a cat give birth to an elephant with out the use of any pain relief. Thinking the madness was over, we were wrong, again, we got dragged into the street to dance around, when all of a sudden, a tuk tuk full of passengers stopped, the not so small driver jumped out sporting the biggest and scariest smile ever, grabbed my hands in the air and joined in dancing, all the while his passengers were wondering what the hell was going on.



We eventually made it back to the hotel, still high on the excitement of what we had experienced, and covered in pink paint. After a shower and a change of clothes, we re-grouped in the lobby, along with our guide who was happy that we had enjoyed the day so far, and we went out to watch a culture show in the town. We got to the show and watched as various dances where performed with bells and stuff, and some woman who danced around with 10 massive pots stacked on her head (as you do..), I normally don't find these types of things interesting, but this one was an eye-opener.



Once the mental dancing of the culture show was over, dinner was calling, all this running around Udaipur, getting bombarded by pink paint, having India's fattest tuk tuk driver dance with me like a crazed man trying to escape a lunatic asylum, I was a hungry little hippo. We ate at a nice place and I opted for currently my favourite Indian dish, the chicken lababdar, or labrador as Lotty so maturely calls it, only this time I asked for it spicy, as all my previous food had been as spicy as a glass of milk. No complaints with the food though, it was delicious, but we ordered a shisha pipe to share amongst a few of us, our end of the table ordered apple, the others ordered mint. The pipes arrived and we soon figured out either 1 of 2 things had happened, either the flavours had been given to the wrong part of the table, or they wash the pipes with soap but don't rinse them out, because all I could taste was cheap Indian soap, and before any smart arses ask, no I don't go round eating Indian soap.



We had decided to have a few drinks at the hotel when we got back, on their roof terrace, armed with 2 bottles of rum and 2 bottles of vodka we waited on the roof for our guide. Not everyone from the group joined us, it was basically all the younger people, but as was now becoming a certainty with our drinking sessions, we had a pretty good time chatting about our previous destinations in India and our journey to Udaipur. Once we had drunk our entire supply, there was nothing more to do than get some sleep ready for the next day.



The following morning, the plan was to take part in a cooking class, all of us made it out feeling fresh and ready for the day apart from one. I won't name and shame the culprit, but they know who they are, it turns out that the youth of today can't handle their drink when having to match up to us older chaps, but it turned out, she regretted being poorly. The cooking class was a 15 minute walk from the hotel, so I decided to grab some breakfast on the way from India's version of Costa coffee conveniently situated across the road from the hotel. Halfway to the cooking class, I suddenly realised that my my choices in the coffee shop weren’t the best I've ever come up with. It was around 33 degrees outside, so obviously you'd want some cold food and a nice, icy cold drink? Well it turns out I wasn't really thinking that straight as I walked down the street eating a toasted chicken tikka sandwich, and drinking a hot cafe mocha all the while sweating my beautiful little backside off.



The class was on the roof terrace of a textile shop we went to the day before, where all the girls had pretty little fine paintings on their nails, when I asked for one, I got a tiger that looked like Mohammed Ali had painted it in the dark. Lucky for me it only stayed on for a few days as I constantly tried to pick it off. The group sat around watching our 'teacher' try to explain each of the foods that we would learn to make. I say try because it was pretty much in Hinglish, which is a mixture of Hindi and English, its very similar to those lovely guys who call from somewhere in the UK called Dave who try to tell you that your computer is broken, but they're really sat in a backstreet office in Delhi and his name is Shaktihammedindianstanrajmohammed. The only thing we actually made was samosa's and chappati's, the rest was upto the teacher guy, while we all made notes, as if we were going to make them again back home. I was hoping that the curry he would make would be a nice chicken dish, with a fiery kick of spices and garlic, but I was soon disappointed. The dreaded palak paneer was the dish to be made, the same vile green curry made with spinach and cottage cheese that had scared me for life in Pushar was back! This curry that I'd never heard of before was following me everywhere I went, this curry was starting to become my new biggest phobia.



Cooking class over and the food eaten (apart from the swamp curry), the girls went downstairs to have some henna done on their hands and feet, leaving the guys needing something to do. So what do you do for 3 hours in the middle of India? That's right, you drink beer and smoke shisha of course, so we headed back to the same place we ate at the previous night. We spent the next few hours talking, drinking, and smoking shisha (just so that both mine and Lotty's parents don't go mental, they had no tobacco or drugs in them, it was just fruit molasses, which doesn't harm your health). The girls rejoined sometime later and decided that we had time for one more round of beers and a different flavoured pipe, before rejoining with our guide and the rest of the group for our boat ride on the lake. Just before we left, a local girl who was sitting in the other side of the bar with her friends came over asking for Greg's name (one of the lads with us) and ran off to her mates like a giggling school girl, shortly after that we decided to head to the lake, but not before playing a slight joke. Greg went to the toilet, so me and Rick went over to the group and told them that Greg really wants a photo with them, which they were delighted with, once out of the toilet, we told Greg the opposite, that they wanted a photo with him, he agreed and we went to leave. On the way out one of the girls ran after us asking for another photo, so we quickly went back in but then they decided it was our facebook names they wanted. We all looked at each other in horror and decided to run away, as fast as we could, getting out onto the street, the 5 of us piled into one tuk tuk screaming at the driver to 'GO, GO, GO!!!!'. The driver casually stood there, drinking his tea, smoking his cigarette without an ounce of urgency, for all he knew, we could be getting chased by the Taliban and needed to escape to safety. After a short while, we trundled off and got to the lake for our short (thankfully) tour. The lake wasn't really that special, it's the same on the water as it is from every other angle, I just couldn't wait to get off because I forgot to have a wee before I got on, and I was dying for one due to the amount of beer I'd just consumed.



The plan for the evening dinner was to be a bit lazy, order pizza from the place across the road from the hotel, get some more rum, and chill out on the roof top. There was a shop just a few doors down from the hotel that sold alcohol, you had to communicate through fence/gate thing that covered the shop. It felt like I was in down town Basra trying to strike up a deal with the Taliban to hand over Osama Bin Laden's part worn underpants, I really didn't understand the need for the barrier between us and the shopkeeper. The rum we went to buy was an Indian dark rum called 'McDowells'. I'm not exactly a rocket scientist, but I don't think that McDowells is a traditional Indian name at all, it sounded to me like a scottish man saw a gap in the market in India and thought it would be a good idea to through a dark rum in there, stupid sod could at least have changed the name to 'Singhpatelyrajwarzian', that would have sounded a lot more believable. We enquired asked to see a bottle of the rum and were told it was 450 rupees (£5.20, quite cheap for a 75cl bottle of dark rum). We decided we would come back after we got a shower, so returned a few minutes later, only for the cheeky gits to try and rip us off. The same guys were in the shop when we returned and again, we asked for a bottle of dark rum, once we asked how much, the shopkeeper passed the bottle to a guy behind him, who peeled the price off and wrote his own price on, 700 rupees. At this point I was really starting to question the sheer and utter stupidity of the guys in this shop, they'd spoke to us not long previously to this yet tried to alter the prices without us knowing. As you can imagine, my colourful side came out, and after a small flurry of abuse, they shopkeeper and his little minions got told what to do with the bottle of rum....which I'll let you figure out. As the shopkeeper realised he'd lost out on a sale he tried to get us back to his shop, when once again, my colourful array of phrases came out to play. Once back at the hotel, we told our guide what had happened, and basically we had been ripped off twice, the real price of the rum from that shop was 300 rupees (£3.40), less than what we had been told both times, I know it's not a lot of difference, but in my opinion, it's pretty much racism, Lotty thinks I'm being dramatic, but hear me out. In the UK, if an Indian person, or anyone else who wasn't British walked into a shop or bar that I worked in and I tried to charge them double the price, I would be branded a racist....but it seems okay for it to happen the other way around? Thieving sods.



Back at the hotel again Lotty went to order pizza, while I Skyped my parents and sister, I'd not spoke to them for a few days, so I was really looking forward to it. The hotel WiFi was pretty poor, even by Indian standards, the hotel staff didn't even know where the WiFi box was so I could get a better connection, useless muppets. I eventually got online, only to be greeted by some upsetting news, my Nana had fallen ill and was in hospital, even though my sister reassured me she was okay, I was in the middle of India, an 8 hour flight away from her and I felt helpless. I can deal with a lot of pressure (5 years with Lotty is pretty much worse than 20 years of interrogation in Guantanamo Bay), but when its something like this, I can't help but get upset. This news was the hardest thing I'd had to deal with since leaving the UK, it really shocked me, all I wanted to do was give her a hug and make sure she was okay, I felt helpless. I did manage to call the ward she was on a speak to her, again, she reassured me she was okay, I felt much better being able to talk to her and for her to tell me she was okay. I met up with the rest of the group who had been informed that I was upset, and they all made me feel good, taking my mind off it, eating pizza, drinking strong beer and rum, seemed to be the perfect remedy.



As the intoxication levels gradually increased, the topics of conversation sunk lower and lower, deeper into the pits of utter disgust and filth. I may not be the most conservative of people, but I couldn't care less, I was having fun, as was everyone else....I think. The night wore on and the group got smaller, these youngsters lately really can't handle their drink, eventually it was me and Rick, sat drinking rum in the wee hours of the night, reminiscing on our very eventful day of pink paint, un-exploding cannons and general the general carnage of Udaipur.



The next morning we left Udaipur and headed for our next stop, Ranakpur. Our guide had mentioned a few times before we got to Udaipur that it was his favourite place on the tour, and I could see why, this town was quite special. Everytime we left the hotel, there was an adventure to be had, and we had no idea how it would pan out. The majority of the group left Udaipur commenting that it had been their favourite place in India so far too, and if I was to return to India, then Udaipur would be the first place I would visit. We piled into our Jeep’s for the 2.5 hour journey to Ranakpur, which wasn't the most comfortable journey I've ever experienced. As I have mentioned before, headroom in India doesn't seem to exist, as I spent the entire journey slouched against Lotty with my legs dangling out of the back of the Jeep in order to save my neck from imploding under the strain and sheer lack of space. I even think a contortionist would have struggled for space in there. I spent the entire journey once again looking out for something odd on the roads to Ranakpur, and it wasn't too long before I spotted it. The road was a dual carriage way with a thick concrete central reservation running down the middle, but I saw, on many occasions and on both sides of the roads, people driving the wrong way, just casually, like they weren’t doing anything wrong. I really couldn't understand it, maybe they just got bored with driving on one side and decided for a change of scenery, or maybe they had a death wish. Further down the orad we passed a dead cow in the middle of the road, and as has previously been documented, here's a short rundown of what happened......

Girl: Oh my god! Is that just going to stay there?!

Planty: Well it is dead....

Girl: Yeah, but is no-one going to move it? It'll start to smell.



I didn't know if she was serious or just down right retarded, just imagine a guy on his moped going down the road stopping and thinking “Hmmm, I should probably move that cow”, unless he's superman, and has the combined strength of the All Blacks rugby team, I somehow think its going to take quite a few people to move the oversized burger off the road. Come on, after all this is India, everything smells, people urinate and poo at the side of the road, I don't think moving a smelly dead cow is a high priority of theirs.



As we had missed breakfast, our guide told us we would be stopping on the way for samosa's and to stock up on yet more rum for that night, but I don't think our driver got that message, either that or he just decided that we didn't need food or alcohol, because we turned up to the hotel empty stomached and empty handed, I was slightly annoyed to say the least. All of our hotels had been very basic city hotels situated in some seedy little backstreet, or had a pool that you were you wouldn't put your head underwater, to sum it up, they weren't anything special, but Ranakpur was quite different. The hotel was made up of little cottages built on a hill side next to a small jungle, it was very rustic, but a nice change from the usual places we stayed in, and they had a pool, which was clean, and you could see the bottom, bonus! We quickly got settled, had a bite to eat, and then re-grouped by the pool, the sun was blazing hot, around 36 degrees, the water was cold, but there was something missing. There was no pool bar, this was a serious issue, and I took it upon myself to rectify the situation. After much moaning to Lotty that I wanted beer, she told me to get one if I wanted, so I headed to the restaurant and asked one of the waiters if we could have beer by the pool, he said it was fine and asked how many I wanted, he suggested 1 or 2, I opted for 10, not all for me, I couldn't remember how many people where by the pool. I returned to be followed a few minutes later by our stack off beer, which everyone agreed was a good move, and I was right, there was 10 of us by the pool, but lucky for me, the same individual who couldn't handle their alcohol in Udaipur wasn't drinking, so that was an extra beer for me.



As the sun went down, my belly was rumbling again, and we got ready for our evening meal in the hotel. Back at the room I decided to have a shower, but there was a problem, the hose connecting the taps to the shower wasn't there, so I had to have a traditional Indian shower, which was fill a jug of water, and pour it over my head, wash with soap, pour water over my head again, it was a real pain in the arse having to do it, but eventually I was clean. The dinner was a basic buffet of mass produced crap that didn't taste too good, but it served as a decent enough lining for my stomach and the antics that followed.



The hotel had its own fire pit with tables placed around it, because the hotel was in the middle of nowhere (literally), the nights were quite chilly, so we lit the fire, got some rum, and bought a load of bottles of coke from the restaurant. I don't know who came up with the idea of drinking games, but they deserve a punch in the face and a medal at the same time because they're hilarious. You seem to get very very drunk, very very quickly, but then after a few hours of games, you realise that you've consumed 3 bottles of rum between 7 people, and it's quickly time for bed, not before the toilet humour started again, with me and Rick making jokes with the rest of the group either laughing or looking on in disgust, but we thought it was funny, and that's all that matters.



We had a few hour to kill the next day before we left, so we spent them topping up our tans and lounging by the pool, with me in particular wishing we had more time here. Our schedule over the past week or so was so hectic, very early starts every day, long days of sight seeing and walks around towns and cities, and late nights eating and drinking, I just wanted more time to relax and recharge my energy levels. Our next stop was a place called Falna, where we would embark on the mode of transport I was dreading the most. Let me quickly take you back to September 2011, me and Lotty where sat in the Preston branch of STA travel enquiring about various trips, flights and other travel essential. Lotty had picked out the India trip, and I, very reluctantly, semi-agreed to it, and the travel agent talked us through the itinerary of the trip and what it would include, when I heard the dreaded words “15 hour overnight train ride to Mumbai”. What made it worse was her dreary Lancashire accent which lacked any ounce of enthusiasm, although I can't see how anyone would be enthusiastic about an overnight train in India. From that moment until the day it came around, I was dreading the train, out of all the things I was to do before then (including a 3 hour Ryanair flight), this was the thing I was most scared about.



All crammed into the Jeeps while our luggage was not so securely fasten to the roof, and the roads where about as smooth as an acne ridden teenagers face, we set off to Falna. The journey wasn't too long, we stopped at a really impressive temple where once again, my witty side came out to play. Pre-warned about people offering to be a guide for you inside, we headed in and were amazed by the detail if the temple inside, it has about 1400 marble pillars inside, all hand carved in extra fine detail, but each one is different. On our way round the temple a guy stopped and claimed he was some sort of monk guy who had lived there for years and could show us round, we declined but he persisted, when he asked where I was from, I responded with “Botswana”, he thought I said Barcelona, but I repeated that I was from Botswana, to which he gave a confused “OK” and left us alone.



Back in the Jeeps, we made it to Falna, and I think I'm right in saying that the majority of India are either stupid, or just, don't really have a clue about much. As we climbed out of the Jeeps and got our luggage, right outside Falna train station, I had tuk tuk drivers asking me if I need a ride. I thought he must have been mad and stupid at the same time, I calmy told him that I do not need a tuk tuk, as I have arrived at the train station, funnily enough, to get a train. Looking back, I should have climbed in to his tuk tuk and said “Mumbai please mate”, although a 15 hour tuk tuk sounded much more pleasant than a 15 hour train ride. We walked into the train station with me joking, claiming that I felt like I was on death row, walking my final yards to the execution chamber as we headed inside the station for our journey to Mumbai.

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