Month: January 2019

Location: Jaipur

Hotel: Chillout Hostel – my favourite Indian hotel

After the wedding I have returned to Jaipur. Not part of the plan at all, but neither was the wedding.

To recap: When planning this trip I wanted to go to Rishikesh as my main objective. Flying into Amritsar made it convenient to stay in the north. I also really wanted to catch up with my friends at Chillout Hostel in Jaipur, so booked my return flight from there. This was perfect.

Then Ajayraj invited me to the wedding, just near Jaipur, right at the beginning of the trip, so I ended up in Jaipur on day 5 instead of day 28. But it was worth it, so worth it. Read about the wedding if you haven’t.

Of course Rishikesh is still possible and I hear that Fernanda, a talented macrame artist from Brazil is heading there by bus the next (Tuesday) night. COOL! We get along like a house on fire immediately and I get Ajeet to book a ticket. Great plan indeed.

Have you heard about the Kumbh Mela? Wikipedia describes it like this:

The festival is the largest peaceful gathering in the world, and considered as the “world’s largest congregation of religious pilgrims”. There is no precise method of ascertaining the number of pilgrims, and the estimates of the number of pilgrims bathing on the most auspicious day may vary. An estimated 120 million people visited Maha Kumbh Mela in 2013 in Allahabad over a two-month period,^[ including over 30 million on a single day, on 10 February 2013

Out of the blue Ajeet said “We are going to Kumbh Mela, do you want to come?”. He must know how little I like crowds, but in the spirit of my India travels I say “yes, of course, as long as you can cancel the bus ticket you made 12 hours ago” which he can and does.

So that is the new plan. Leaving tomorrow (Friday) for 5 days. This gives me a couple of days in Jaipur to explore new places.

I have made some great new friends here. Tom from Germany also with me at the wedding, Anouk from France, Shaked from Israel, Fernanda from Brazil, Isabelle from Scotland/New Zealand/Australia and a chance to catch up with the wonderful Anant and Swati. So having a chilled time at the Chillout Hostel has been awesome.

People set off fireworks every night, mostly rockets. Being a boy, I had to buy some and did. I have mentioned the bombs in previous year posts, here is a bit more detailed explanation of the fun and danger associated with Gorilla Bombs.

I am not exaggerating when I say they would blow your hand off. They are frighteningly powerful and I give them the respect they deserve – which is most unlike me.

I don’t think I have included this video from the wedding. My understanding is that this guy is an itinerant musician. He showed up at the house and started playing in the family temple. No doubt he had a plan, knowing that the wedding was on might improve how many tips he received.

The instrument is incredible and many people say they have never seen it before. I know he made it and suspect it might be a one of a kind. Obviously it is played like bagpipes, inflating the bladder and then squeezing it. But it is the bladder that is special, it is an entire goat skin. The animal must have been removed through the neck as the skin is intact. The mouthpiece is at the end of one leg, the playing bit (technical name) is another leg. It even has the teats visible. Yet another surprise in India.

OK. It is 2PM and I haven’t eaten yet today, not such great planning but I find I am not nearly as hungry as at home. However it is time to find something to eat. FYI, India is 4.5 hours behind Brisbane time.

Next post should be during or after Kumbh Mela. I have little idea of what to expect in any aspect of this. Where we are staying, what we will see, how it will be. So ultimately there is hardly a plan at all.

Well planned.

Location: Mohchingpura, Rajasthan.

I don’t quite know where to start with this post and I know I am never going to be able to do the story justice. I am never even going to be able to tell it all, so much happened and it was deeply moving on many levels.

First, some background, and if I have covered this before I apologise.

I have some friends made through staying at Chillout Hostel (formerly Hathroi Palace Hotel). Ajeet owns it with his brother Balu and Ajayraj, a cousin, used to work there. After I had already booked and planned my trip, flying into Amritsar and out of Jaipur, Ajayraj invited me to his brother’s wedding, about 100km East if Jaipur. Given that the wedding was at the start but the location was the end and I had planned to stay in the north, it was a dilemma for a few days. But the more I thought about it and discusses it with friends it was obviously an opportunity too good to miss – I wasn’t even close to how good it would be.

The wedding location. I was staying in the house at the bottom near the marker.

I am not exaggerating when I say I don’t know how to tell this story. I keep trying to think of which bits to share but there is so much that happened each day.

The location is am easy beginning. As you can see on the map Mohchingpura is very rural. To get there we drove along some of the worst roads ever. Winding, narrow, bumpy, cows, dogs, people, water filled pools and mostly too fast with the horn blaring (of course).

The family lives in a cluster of 7 or 8 houses where 5 brothers are all neighbours. This is not poor rural India, the houses are big and well cared for and life is, for the most part, very simple.

Cooking is done over a small fire. This is milk straight from the cow being prepared for the kids. I had some, the crap we are sold is nothing like this.

There are uncles and brothers and cousins and kids. Given there were (literally) hundreds of visitors and plenty of people staying I am not 100% certain who actually lives in the house. It seems to be about 10 people, it isn’t crowded at all.

I was sleeping in an outhouse where there were 8 beds and a newly installed bathroom – it was still being finished as people were arriving.

Dressed for the wedding. There isn’t time or space for the kurta buying story

At first people weren’t sure about me. Most of the kids and women were shy. But hey, breaking the ice with people is what I do for a living and it wasn’t long before I was king of the kids and the women were getting used to me. Since I am make I was accepted by the men once they saw the kids demanding more magic tricks.

Some of us settled down to a rum and whiskey session late at night. I left before it got out of hand 😛

I have to keep emphasising that this is about 10% of what happened and how. There is just too much.

The next day was preparation for the pre wedding “party”. Out the back a team of “chefs” was setting up and preparing food all day long. The place was being spruced up, lots of activity.

Rotis being cooked for a late night meal

Decorating the outside of the house

The groom was covered in a turmeric paste by women. This happened a couple of times. There were many and continuous rituals.

A big henna session for the women.

The DJ setting up to play Hindi pop music. If you think it was loud, you aren’t even close.

A couple of hundred people came and were fed. Yes, sitting on the ground, they would eat and move on and the next lot would sit down. The food kept coming and coming.

I could go on but I must move on. And quickly or this will never end.

I didn’t mention that a kid said he was going for a walk to the shop. Intrigued I joined him.

You can’t begin to imagine how in the middle of the back of nowhere this is. It is essentially a farmer making a few extra Rupees from kids and locals who need a pen or some sweets or something. That it is even there is a complete mystery.

Oh…so much more to leave out. A guided tour though the farms by the kids.

This is mustard seeds. They also grow wheat and chick peas and each house has a vegetable gardens.

The wedding.

It is being held at the house if the bride’s family, about 50km away over the worst roads in India. We leave early because Ajeet’s sister in law is also getting married and Joitee (his wife) is being taken there. This is 50km in the other direction over the same roads.

At the wedding there are more rituals and lots of food. There were about 10 different foods to eat, each one was awesome. I am having some of each and someone tells me that this is just the snack. There is a meal later! I immediately cut back to a taste of each instead of a small plate full.

No one could take money from Bhanu :o)

More rituals at a building (actually a school) over the road from the venue and then the groom is hoisted onto a horse for the ride there.

This is accompanied by the worst band in history, loads of fireworks, and lots of dancing. People wave money over heads and the “musicians” try to grab it. It was a hoot, and it took about an hour to make a 200m or so trip.

Eventually the groom touches the top of a door with his sword and he is allowed into the house while we stay out.

But, where are the women? I hear you asking. Good question, as usual they are invisible. Apparently they are in the house, but I didn’t see them at all.

Oh, and there is no dancing as we know it to all. The women will dance for each other, the men will dance during the procession. But the idea is every getting together and dancing and having fun? No. I can put it any more simply than that.

The next day was more food and awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom to the house. Oh dear. The poor girl. She is literally being led by the groom on a – I have to say it – leash.

More rituals including what I am told is the wife being beaten by the groom and a cousin. They have some switches and I am really not looking forward to this.

It turns out to be a game where a couple have a stick and they have to try to whack the other on the legs 7 times. Cousin is a bit too enthusiastic for my liking, I had urged him to be gentle and he reduced a woman to tears, he ended up getting a kick in the arse from Mumma.

Aside: I had discovered that there is a stepwell nearby and had been gently pestering people to get taken there. As well as the 26th being India republic day, is is also the birthday of Ajeet and his mother. Mumma is just gorgeous, the sweetest woman and though we couldn’t talk, we really connected.

Ajayraj is going to drive to Dhousa, about 20km away over the same worst roads in India and offers to go via the stepwell. It was almost dark, but mission accomplished.

It was in the back of nowhere, I can’t even find it in the map again. Leaving there we continue to Dausa, following our noses in the dark. We are following a motorbike as we approach an intersection and aren’t sure whether we should go straight or turn right.

Ajayraj honks his horn and the passenger on the bike immediately points to turn right. Given how much people honk their horns, it was hilarious that he knew exactly what we wanted.

We got our cakes plus some black market rum for later (liquor stores are closed on Republic Day) and you can see that a fun night was had.

Jump to final day and a pilgrimage to all the local themes with the bride and groom.

I am lost for words about this day. At one point I made a video but it is so personal I can’t share it.

Suffice to say we went to places that are so obscure and hard to get to. So old. So spiritually important for these people. So incredible. Photos is the best I can do.

I just can’t tell you about this place.

It is 10am in Jaipur. I need to get out.

This guy showed up unannounced at the house and sat in the family temple playing his goat skin “bagpipes”.

My next destination is a surprise. To me too. I have no idea where I am going to head tomorrow. I’ll figure it out today.

Day 4: Amritsar and then by overnight train (with optional stress) to Jaipur.

Readers of previous India trip blog posts may recall the two acronyms in the title.

This Is India is used when resigned to something happening that is pointless trying to get stressed about as you can’t change the outcome.

Only In India as the statement implies refers to something that could be good or bad that typifies India for a foreign tourist.

I may be referring to these during this post, now you kind of know what I am talking about, but you can’t really unless you have been here.

With a forecast maximum of 16C and some early rain I was in no hurry to get out of bed or the hotel. Also checking out means having to keep busy until the train left at 1750hrs.

Change of tack: I thought I would be going to the wedding tomorrow, but I am now leaving 2 hours ago India time. I likely won’t have internet for 2 or 3 days so here is a quicker post that I expected.

My train was scheduled to leave at 1750hrs so I had a day that was overcast and threatening to rain to kill.

There was one direction I hadn’t really wandered and my map showed the Mata Temple and Gobindargh Fort in the same direction.

When a building behind a big fence is intriguing and you can’t read Hindi/Punjabi that might give a hint to what it is, I find it advisable to follow orders and leave…quickly…when the soldiers stationed at this soldiery place use their weapons to indicate you do so.

Around the corner was the Mata Temple. It meant nothing to me apart from a place to check out.

As I approached it was obviously a popular place. Shoes off (at all temples) I went in and before getting to the main part of the temple where there were lots of people sitting and chanting, I was directed up some stairs.

I had no idea where it would take me or what I would find, up I went out onto a landing where there was an idol of a god. A path led along the verandah passing other gods and through a door. There was a tunnel, then around a corner, then down some stairs, through a gap, back past where I was. I was in the most incredible maze that took almost 25 minutes to get through. Think of it as a Hindu Ikea.

That this place is not on the tourist trail is amazing…or maybe it is, I don’t pay much attention to such things.

If you get motion sickness you may not like this video, to keep it brief it is does up 5X – and despite the numerous “no photo” signs, I was assured it was fine.

VIDEO ISN’T GOING TO HAPPEN UNTIL I GET DECENT WIFI

Apparently there are 100 rooms, by that I think they mean alcoves with gods in them. Another hidden gem discovered by absolute chance. O.I.I.

On the first day everything seemed such a long way, today after leaving the temple I walk aimlessly and suddenly, there is the cow hospital again. From the opposite direction. The city is getting a little smaller.

Freak out #2 when I arrived at Amritsar station for my train to Jaipur. Someone told me it had gone, an hour prior to scheduled departure (it is as possible as being late). In fact about 5 people told me it had already gone. I am wondering whether to jump on a train that is about to depart for Delhi or abandon the wedding.

Needless to say, when I found a railways guy who spoke good English, the train hadn’t left at all

Now I wonder if I was being set up by the first guy “your train has gone, but I can take you to Jaipur in my taxi (for a lot of money)”. O.I.I.

Seventeen hours in a train, including witnessing a subset of Indian OH&S, Indian food handling.

Yay, Jaipur and the Chillout Hotel (formerly Hathroi Palace) where I reconnect with Ajeet and meet his brother Balu who will be leaving for the wedding in 3 hours (which of course becomes 5 hours)

But this gives me time for a meal, a shower and finding an ATM that will cough up Rupees. I can’t get money from one that worked in the past, but one just down the road works. T.I.I.

And suddenly I am in Mochingpura, Rajasthan. I urge you to click here and then do a satellite view to get an idea of how far in rural India I am. But that is for the next post.

Neither words or pictures are going to come close…but here is a teaser. The groom and his aunt.

Day 3 – final day in Amritsar

It is cold and wet. Apparently it is snowing in the mountains. This is not the India I have experienced in the past in October/November. I don’t want to go outside yet, but India.

Posts are usually about yesterday written today. This one is a bit of a mess in that respect as the story was yesterday but the weather and rain is today. Even I can’t follow, so do your best.

Tonight I catch an overnight train to Jaipur. In class 2AC (2nd class, air conditioned) you are given bed linen. It hadn’t ever occurred to me that someone somewhere was washing it all.

Yesterday (blog subject day) it was threatening and forecast to rain so I didn’t want to venture too far. I headed off in a random direction following my nose.

As I crossed a railway bridge I noticed steam coming from a building and decided to investigate. I am not sure that if you wandered and looked through a window in a factory in Straya that you would be excitedly invited in.

So this is where they wash the train linen! I was given the guided tour (it wasn’t very big and all one room 😉) and people posed for photos (over) enthusiastically.

Tonight I will think of these people as I am rocked to sleep

Do you ever tire of your job? I might start a “be thankful” theme because for a lot of people here and likely many other countries, life is tough.

He is smashing small electronic motors and solenoids to recover the copper wire. I can’t imagine how much work is involved for not a lot of money. But I do love the photo.

Not doing it quite so tough and I wonder how many clocks he gets to fix/sell. Unintended art.

Eventually a storm came through and I took refuge under an awning where there were a few food and chai stalls.

Bought a yummy chai and while I was waiting the chai wala next door started some good natured, broken English banter that his chai was better.

Thats him in the background. I love this sort of play so it was back and forth and I asked him for a small sample so I could decide who was #1.

They were actually very different and truth be told I liked the first one better, it had obvious anise seeds in it. But diplomacy ruled and I said they were both very good.

Then it got weird. I paid R10 for my chai and looked for the other guy to pay him, even though I think it was complementary. He wasn’t there. A kid was running the stall so I started to wander off.

A Sikh man from behind a counter shouts to me that I haven’t paid.

I often find Sikh men a bit intimidating. The turban, the beard, they are often big men. I wonder if this is a look they have embraced and enhanced over time, a warrior thing.

Of course I wander back and of course original guy isn’t there. Of course I am happy to pay. But he says R50 which is outrageous for chai. I couldn’t tell if he was taking the piss or not. There was some amusement amongst the now interested locals when he would say stuff in Punjabi.

I kept smiling and playing with him trying to work out what was going on. Happy to pay but it was odd.

Then a misunderstanding was cleared up. He was saying R15 not R50. Indians often say a P for an F and pipteen and pipty…well it confused me me, but I am pretty deaf.

It dawned on me that the chai I paid for was likely R15 too so I went and gave them another R5. I think they were too polite to say anything.

Back to the other guy and I figured he was teasing me so I offered him the R5 coin. He laughed. So I went the other way and offered him a R500 note for R15. I think he laughed, but he waved me to go.

I didn’t look back.

Different chai wala

It wasn’t fun with the weather and shops dont have verandahs so I retreated to the hotel for a while.

The rain eased in the evening, I decided to go back to the Golden Temple and I am glad I did.

Fewer people (because it started raining again) meant it was easier to talk to the guards – they aren’t really, more helpers – and I found out that photos are OK except inside the temple.

It was beautiful during the day, and it is more so at night.

In yesterday’s post I mentioned they feed 40,000+ people per day. I wanted to eat, check out the food production and help. Again, I was given a guided tour.

About 50 people were sitting chopping onions, peeling garlic and ginger.

Whereas at the gurudwara in Delhi they made rotis by hand, here they had several machines. Unfortunately they were just finishing for the day so I didn’t get to see it in action for long. But they put flour in one end and rotis come out the other. Not quite as good as hand made but an incredible process.

They are then brushed with ghee before being served.

Of course with 40,000 meals there are 120,000 items to wash (plate, bowl spoon). This needs to be efficient and it was. I rolled up my sleeves for a while to help. Everyone is a volunteer, so I gave a little back for my meal.

My first attempt at video editing on a phone 😛

It is time to pack and brave the outdoors. Next update from Jaipur.

And the exciting possibility of going to the Kumbh Mela, the largest gathering of humanity. I didn’t realise it is on now.

Day 2

Location: Still in Amritsar

Weather: perpetually hazy

It has been quite a while since I have travelled anywhere other than India so I am not sure if this holds true everywhere: each week seems like a month.

It is because I cram in so much every day compared to the average say at home.

I bring this up because at the end of my first full day, having been here for only 36 hours, it feels like I have been here a week already. If I went home now I think I would already be satisfied. Seriously.

It didn’t get light until about 7.30am and even then, despite the clouds being perfect for an awesome sunrise, it never happens because of the haze. You never see the sun hit the horizon here, in either direction. In the morning, eventually the sun appears about an hour or so after sunrise. The air quality is my least favourite part of India.

I travel light. Only carry-on luggage and a small backpack. Last trip I did really well with a day pack, this time a little bigger because I reluctantly decided to bring a jacket and a vest I am glad I did! It is chilly in the morning when I venture out having dropped to about 10C overnight.

Like most people I start the day rugged up. I wear a long sleeve shirt, jacket, vest and scarf. However, unlike most people, as the day goes on I remove layers and finally roll up my sleeves. Locals wear down jackets and a turban or beanie and are wrapped in blankets all day. Maybe it is a fashion thing.

On my first trip in 2015, I bought a SIM card, mostly for internet, especially for maps. It isn’t an original idea, but I have no problem getting lost in back streets as long as I can find my way back to my hotel. Nowadays you don’t need internet for maps. Maps.me is a really good offline mapping app that is perfect for getting around.

Bonus is that it took me down back streets away from main roads.

Breakfast was a great butter naan filled with what might have been potato. Only R10 at a street stall – reminder, R1 = $AUD0.02. I am mindful, but have no fear of eating street food, it is usually delicious or they wouldn’t last long, competition is pretty fierce. My rule of thumb is that it has to be made freshly and seem popular (i.e. high turnover).

As well as the Golden Temple there is a lesser known Hanuman Temple not that far away, so that was my first target.

Maps.me, like most digital navigation, can be a bit creative and was trying to take me to a non existent (as far as I could tell, but you can never be sure) entry. I was trying to work it out and spotted a temple behind a gate.

I thought it might be through there so wandered in. It wasn’t the entry, but was a lovely temple set amongst trees, I imagine Angkor Wat looks something like this. It was a hidden gem, home to and cared for by a family who were a bit shy but welcoming of someone who just wandered in.

Directly over the road were tractors stacked high with fresh grass. I sensed a photo opportunity and was looking for the right angle. The hazy sky gives great even light, but it can be quite glarey if behind the subject

It is offloaded by hand, of course, tossed into a shed where there are some machines to chop it up. Unfortunately they weren’t chopping while I was there, I am always fascinated by the complete lack of anything resembling OH&S.

Once the chopped grass is piled up, people men would come in, grab a bag, hand over a slip of paper and their bag would have grass shovelled in. Then they walked through a door.

Through the door it was dimly lit, smelly, noisy and full of cows.

I am thinking it is a cooperative dairy or something like that, but completely wrong. It took a while to find someone who could speak English and he (where are all the women?) explained it is a cow hospital. In Hinduism, cows are a sacred symbol of life that should be revered. That’s why they own the streets.

The photo is only about a quarter of it. Like most hospitals this one sucks, but if you are a sick cow it might be pretty good being taken care of.

I wanted to donate some money and it turned out that the slip of paper people were exchanging for a bag of grass was a receipt. So I gave R100, went in and grabbed a bag. The guy looked at my receipt and swapped my bag for a big one. I ended up with a poly bag so full I could hardly lift it. Eat well, cows.

Aside: this post is already long and it is only about 10AM. I haven’t gotten to the first temple yet.

I finally figure out the way into Hanuman Temple. There is still a long way to go today, so in an effort to avoid tldr; I will keep it brief…just photos.

In fact, it was like a mini Golden Temple which is where I was heading next.

The contrast was amazing.

The Golden Temple is the #1 holy place for Sikhs. This is because 5 of the 10 human form Sikh gurus visited this site. More than any other site.

It is a beautiful place dominated by the mass of humanity come to pray.

This is the line of people waiting to get into the temple proper. That’s it to the left behind the two orange poles. Someone told me the wait wait 90 minutes but I reckon he was optimistic. Unless of course you are a foreigner.

The layout is identical to the Hanuman Temple above. It is in the middle of a sacred lake with a walkway out to the temple proper. I wanted to have a look but there was no way I was going to stand in line. I was only just within my crowd tolerance limit as it was and knowing that in India here is no concept of personal space, the line would have been unbearable.

So I wandered to a side gate where some people were being let through and they could skip the line. Maybe I looked pitiful, perhaps I just didn’t look Indian, but I was invited through.

No photos are allowed around the lake so these are general shots.

The temple isn’t very big and everyone is kept moving unless you stop to kneel and touch your head to the beautifully carpeted floor.

It is insanely beautiful and amazingly tranquil amid the sea of people. They are there to meditate and pray which makes for a very different side of India. This blog post is a pretty good description of what it is like.

Most people coming past the main shrine throw a bank note onto a collection area. There is an incredible stream of money that is swept into a large pile by a couple of men whose sole job it is.

Given that they typically feed roughly 40,000 people a day for free. And on religious holidays and weekends, they can feed upwards of 100,000 people a day it must cost a fortune to run the place.

A shrine in a different part of the complex that I was allowed to photograph.

The forecast is for rain tomorrow so I decide to head to the border with Pakistan today.

I had arranged a taxi but it wasn’t at the hotel at the agreed time. I was wondering about where to find another when R10 cycle rickshaw guy shows up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was hanging around the hotel just in case I appeared.

He has a friend who will take me to the border and back for R1000 including parking and everything. Deal!

I ask if he is getting a commission (I am sure much of the income from drivers is earned that way) and he is getting R100.

We ride/drive (?) a bit and he calls his friend over. It is a tuk tuk. Not what I had in mind but I wasn’t sure I had a choice if I wanted to go today. I was assured he was a fast driver (he wasn’t) but we were there in plenty of time.

It is 30km which is a 40 minute tuk tuk ride – gives you an idea of the speed – and you arrive at what is essentially a stadium.

In this photo you can’t see the massive Indian or Pakistani flags…but I am getting ahead of myself.

Security is tight. You aren’t allowed to take bags in (had tuk tuk driver spoken English he might have mentioned that) so a minor panic thinking I had to go all the way back to the car park. But they did have a cloak room that the soldier who said “no bag” didn’t tell me about. Someone else did as I was warning another tourist.

I chose the word stadium carefully because this is a show. I am surprised they don’t charge entry, but again, I am getting ahead of myself.

Delayed a little trying to handle the bag issue, activities had already started. A camouflage clad soldier wearing a completely unnecessary bullet proof vest was warm up MC and he already had the crowd of about 2,000 Indians going. They were chanting, singing, waving flags, dancing.

It was hilarious. Such over the top nationalism is pretty unknown to Australians…oh, unless you hate others and want to tell them to fuck off back to where they came from. But I digress.

There is blaring music, and a long line of women running along the road and back carrying flags – I wasn’t allowed to 🙁 . At one point there is a couple of hundred women on the road – held well back from the actual border – having a “spontaneous” dance party. It even included warm up guy urging them to keep dancing long after they had had enough.

Oh, I didn’t mention how my heart sank when on the way there I realised I had left my camera at the hotel. Fortunately I had my phone, but not as good.

I also didn’t mention that while all this is going in, similar scenes are being played out on the Pakistani side. Their crowd is smaller but they had something India didn’t.

It might be a bit hard to hear me, but their warm up guy only had 1 leg. I reckon it is a safe assumption he is a war hero. Because that is what this is all about. Posturing and choreographed ceremony.

This is an absolute must do on a visit to India. I had seen Michael Palin’s story about this and all due respect, but he doesn’t capture it fully. I am not sure it is possible without actually being here.

I was curious about whether afterward they all got together for a beer and a laugh, but it seems it is deadly (and I use the word advisedly) serious. As you can see in the cometimes clumsy (unedited) videos I was sitting in the closest possible seats to the border. As soon as the ceremony was over we were all ordered (definitely ordered) to move away, back into India.

The whole thing was a Monty Pythonish produced parody of itself. Hilarious.

But I didn’t think the whole thing through. Coming back at about 6PM it was getting cool…I was in the back of a tuk tuk. Brrrr….

Washing clothes I think – #NotChildLabour

I’ll play at your wedding for Indian food

People must love pigeons to buy food for them

Words and photos will never do justice to most of the things I see and write about. That’s why I keep coming back.

I need some feed back. I am creating these posts on my phone and have no idea how they look on a PC screen. Are the photos too big, too small or just right? In the comments please.

[Update] I have uploaded the videos to YouTube instead. Much better I think.

Location: Amritsar

Hotel: Hotel Popular

Firstly, I am retraining myself to say amRITsar instead of AMritsar. Subtle, but it is like an American saying brisBANE (pronouncing it “bain”) when locals know there is no final vowel and it is properly pronounced Brisbn.

Whoever said that the journey is half the fun hasn’t done this flight. Leave Gold Coast at 2030 arrive Kuala Lumpur at 0300 local (0500 by my body). KL airport at 0300 is about as exciting as any airport in the dead of night. You would at least think that would make half comfortable chairs to sleep on. Then leave KL at 0730 (0930) arrive Amritsar 1100 (1530). I am sure there are worse flights, but this felt long…because it was.

You may have seen my travel hack #1 – wait until last to board and then sit in the first empty row. It worked on the first leg.

On the second leg it almost worked. I thought I was last on. I had an empty row. Winner! But someone was running late and the bastard had been assigned one of my seats.

Truth is, I think I slept better sitting up compared to trying to get comfy lying down. And no, funny people, I cannot stretch out over 3 seats.

I was the only Westerner on the flight into India. Amritsar is in Punjab state which is historically the Sikh homeland. So there were many colourfully turbanned men, and some women. I am going to have to find out more about this. Also despite asking a couple of people I haven’t found out at what age young men switch from that topknot type of hairstyle to a full turban.

Off the plane and into immigration. Ahh, India. A sea of colours with loads of people in the Indian Nationals queue. Just me in the foreigners queue. Sweet.

Except Mr Immigration wasn’t impressed (didn’t understand?) that I didn’t have a hotel booking. Knowing I was arriving late morning I knew it would be easy to find a hotel (it was) but it was a mystery to him. He eventually accepted “unknown Amritsar” as my India address.

It’s always good to get the heart starter happening right up front and get it out of the way.

I jumped in a taxi to get into town. I explained I didn’t have many Rupees (R50 = $AUD1) and he agrees to stop at an ATM on the way. So far so good.

We stop and I put in my card, which I hadn’t thought to test (I know, I know), and my PIN was rejected. So was another I thought it might be, so was another. Uh Oh! I really didn’t want the card to be locked so I stopped.

I had R375 saved from my last trip. Even in tightest of tight arse mode I don’t think I could last 4 weeks on $AUD7.50. I got driver to give me a wifi hotspot so I could use the bank app and hopefully reset the PIN. The PIN I thought it was and had tried earlier worked – good and bad news at the same time. I reset it anyway and we stopped at another ATM.

Normally if they charge a fee I will go to another machine. But it worked! I was so grateful I was happy to pay the fee and more has it been necessary. But I will confess to shitting myself for about 10 minutes. I have no idea what I would have done if I couldn’t get money out.

Hotel Popular actually isn’t. But that is good for me as they had decent rooms to spare and (shock horror) I am not being so tight arsed this trip.

They do have fast wifi (amazing), towels (unusual) and hot water (bonus). Plus it is only about 1.5km to the Golden Temple which will visit tomorrow then the Pakistan border on Monday.

I asked a cycle rickshaw driver if he knew a good restaurant. He assured me he did, named Crystal Restaurant. He said he would take me there for R10 (20c). Been there, done that, at that price I pretty much knew it was going be only 50m or so away but I couldn’t spot it. What the hell, R10!

It was 60m away, just around a corner 😁. But what a great meal. Welcome back to India.

Last time I was here I had my sandles tarted up in Jodhpur. I thought I might as well start off looking flash and for R30 I now do.

Does anyone play badminton in Australia? I knew it is popular here and when I spotted the Amritsar badminton club I went in to watch. These kids were ferociously good. Even in clown mode, for a laugh, I wouldn’t have gone up against the youngest of them.

So, a jittery start turned out well, plus some great news (to be revealed in future) from home. Life is good.

I am in overwhelm. So many things to try to get out of my head before I leave on Friday night. I don’t think I am stressed, just so much to do.

This may be one thing off my list, getting posts from my blog https://Steve.Davis.net.au to facebook. The bastards at FB have decided that automated services can’t publish to a profile, only to a page. Who knows why they would break a system that thousands of people use.

So here is my FB travel page which will be duplicates of my blog posts. https://www.facebook.com/SteveDtravels

Join me on my trip starting in Amritsar, site of the Golden Temple. Then to a wedding in the middle of nowhere, Rajasthan (purple star). Eventually flying home out of Jaipur.