Nepal

We leave Gorakpur as soon as the curfew is lifted at 8.30 am and make the 100km ride to the border at Sonauli, a dusty Indian town complete with traffic jams caused by the trucks crossing the border, we later find that it is more congested than usual because of the Terai blockades.

Indian formalities completed, we enter Nepal and head to get our visas which take no time at all.

Then off to do the carnet, I wait with the bike, and wait and wait and wait. After an hour Skill emerges to tell me that the guy that normally does the carnets is off on lunch and no one has any idea on what to do. It takes another hour for the Nepalese authorities to complete the carnet.

By this time I have been rescued by a sweet young man called Arjun who keeps me entertained with stories about Nepal. When Skill emerges Arjun directs us to a restaurant where we can have some lunch, and he joins us.

By this time it is nearly 3.15 pm so we head to Butwell and call it a day. We park outside the hotel and something miraculous occurs, I am left in peace not one person bothers me.

No one asks the usual 40 questions:

How far one litre?
How much this bike cost?
How fast this bike go?
How much tank hold?
How big the engine?
How many cylinder?
Where you from?
Where you going?

and when Skill emerges from the Hotel he has a stunned look on his face and says "Where are all the people?"

WE LOVE NEPAL.

We stay at the Hotel Siddartha where the great people tell us there is no hot water showers till the morning but 2 huge buckets of hot water appear five minutes later. We are a little gobsmacked at the honesty and efficiency. There is not a lot to see or do in Butwal, it is a hot, flat, dusty, dirty crowded town, so we leave early next morning and make our way to Tansen.

It is a short 35 km ride to Tansen (Palpa) in drizzling rain. Despite the rain it is a beautiful, peaceful, and trafficless ride, the roads are instantly better as are the driving standards.

I remember reading Dave McMillian and Erica Tunicks "Nepal Blog" saying the first thing you notice about Nepal is the billboards advertising Shakka Lakka Boom noodles and they are right,

the signs are everywhere, in fact there are billboards everywhere, every shop wall and any other available space is covered by advertising signs usually extolling the virtues of 2 minute noodles, although clean and healthy gums also rate a mention.

Tansen is the former capital of the Magar Kingdom, Tanahun. It is a quaint town perched high above the valleys and river below. The streets are narrow, steep and winding full of Newari shop houses and temples. It is like taking a step back in time. By the time we navigate our way to a hotel it is pouring and we are soaked.

The helpful staff assist us with our paniers and we have two large coffees in our hands before we can get our wet gear off.

We have a peaceful afternoon getting lost in the labyrinth like streets before stumbling upon Nanglo West, a Nepalese Restaurant where we spend the rest of the afternoon watching the rain run in torrents down cobbled alleyways, while sampling a bottle of red and devouring chicken mo mos by the plateful.

We love this atmospheric little village but sadly it bares the scars of a major Maoist assault from late last year. Tansen Durbar (home of the local administrative centre) bore the brunt of most attacks.

Next day the skies have cleared and we get a view down to the valleys below. Skill is also impressed by the building in progress next door.

We have the most glorious days ride along the less trafficked, spectacular Siddhartha Highway. The road wends its way through valleys and villages. I feel happy to be on the back of the bike and have enough confidence to get the camera out and start snapping away again. (Something I didn't do much of in India)

The terraces are amazing

as are the daily lives of the villagers.

(sorry they are a bit blurry)

A lot of the villages we ride through are heavily decorated with flags (not prayer flags) which we think are for the Chinese New Year.

We arrive in Pokhara exhilarated to have had such a wonderful days ride. We pull over to check out some signs pointing to various guest houses along the lake when another one of those angels appear. This time it is British expat Rick who runs the Hearts and Tears Motorcycle Club, a rent/buy/tour bike business in Pokhara. Rick takes us to the Sacred Valley Inn which is absolutely wonderful.

We manage to get everything off the bike, secure a beautiful room with balcony (for $10.00 AUD) when the heavens open up. We then have the best lunch and coffee we have had in months, and to top it off we have another Aussie motorcyclist for company in the form of Don who has been riding his Enfield between India and Nepal for the past two years.

In the evening we venture out to downtown Pokhara, we are so excited, there are restaurants everywhere and pubs and bars, even supermarkets that sell more than two products. It seems that we have found a little piece of Utopia. And like any good Aussie on their first night in Pokhara we head to the Everest Steak House for our first steak since leaving home washed down with an Aussie red. Then it is off to the Busy Bee bar to watch a live band, and have a few beers with Rick and his partner Monica. WE LOVE NEPAL.

The next day as we start talking to Rick and Don, we become aware of the fuel shortages in Nepal. The Terai Province which borders India are flexing their political muscle in the run up to the elections by blockading fuel trucks into Nepal. We are not that worried as we love Pokhara and can wait for fuel to arrive. We are also keen to do a bit of hiking but the weather is not kind to us.

Occasionally in the morning the cloud will lift and you suddenly realise that you are breakfasting beneath some of the highest mountains in the world. It is breathtakingly beautiful, but also a privilege to be in such a place as this.

We spend a week mooching around Pokhara in the vein hope that the weather will clear, unfortunately it is not to be and hiking is not an option.

On the other hand, eating, shopping, and drinking are, as are nightly visits to the Busy Bee to check out the bands. One night as we settle in for the night and are seated around the bar I observe a sign which says "NO DRUGS OR CANNABIS WILL BE TOLERATED ON THESE PREMISES". I also happily observe that every single person sitting along the bar is rolling a joint. The Nepalese seem to be in the same league as the Italians when it comes to a flagrant disregard for rules and regulations.

We also take some day rides, one to Naya Pul (where the Annapurna Circuit ends) and also up to the village of Sarangkot perched high above Pokhara. In good weather the views of the Annapurnas are amazing, we were not that lucky but they were still pretty stunning.

We enjoy the day here, the scenery,

The paragliders

And these school kids take my fancy, they have finished school and are wistfully wishing they could jump the fence and join the fun of the day care centre.

Eventually we decide to make the break and head to Chitwan National Park and of course the day we decide to leave the weather clears. As we are getting fuel

before we leave I happily snap away at the mountains and the Fairy Floss Man.

This old man continually wants to be in the photo.

"No I want photos of the mountains" I tell him. He is so persistent that in the end I take his photo to get him off my case, and of course as soon as I have done so the hand comes out for Rupees. I oblige, it is sometimes easy to forget that this country is the poorest in the world.

The ride is another enjoyable one, following the Prithvi Highway.

We turn off at Mugling towards Bharatapur. It is at this point the traffic is stopped and banked up, we ride around it to find that young children have the road barricaded off with a big rope and are extracting money from each vehicle. People seem to be willingly and happily paying them money, we ignore them and sneak through with a truck. We later learn that it is the week of Shiva's Birthday and the money is to buy sweets with. A bit like trick or treating only by extortion.

We arrive in Bharatapur having to ask for directions several times. It is also here we have our second altercation of the trip admittedly at very low speed, well actually a motor bike clips our pannier. The pannier stays attached and Skill just manages to keep us upright but not before narrowly missing a bus and cyclist. We are shaken but all is OK. We continue on our way arriving at Chitwan in time to find a nice little cottage at River View Jungle Camp and spend the afternoon perched beside the river drinking beer, and glorying in the magnificant sunset.

Royal Chitwan National Park was created in 1971 and covers about 932 sq km. In the 60s and 70s many animals were lost to poachers, but through the 80s and 90s things improved vastly as the poaching was slowed by border patrols. However the political and economic instability of the past few years has seen a return to poaching and rhino and tiger numbers are falling at an alarming rate. We heard from many local sources that the problem starts right at the top of the Parks hierarchy, a park official had recently been removed (only for a month) because he had been found to be connected with poachers and the sale of rhino and tiger products over the Chinese Border.

Tourism at Chitwan has also been badly affected by the Maoist insurgency. Whilst we were travelling around we were surprised to see so many UN cars and people, they were here to oversee the containment of Maoist arms. Camps had also been set up to house the Maoists. However tensions were still running high and rumour has it that the guns being procured by the UN were old guns bought cheaply from India and that the good weapons are hidden safely away?????

Next day we are up bright and early to take our elephant ride through the forest to look for the rhinos and any other animals out and about. We go by jeep to meet the elephants, but it is slow going as it is a public holiday (Shiva's birthday) and the kids have their makeshift rope road blocks set up every 100 metres. The Nepalese are so patient with the kids, never getting upset or chastising them, and paying them small amounts of money.

When we eventually arrive we get loaded into our howdah (riding platform) on the elephant's back

and then the mahout (rider/driver) scarpers down his trunk and into a building. This seems to be the signal for our elephant to wander off riderless in search of food, and we go along for the ride.

Eventually the mahout reappears and after angrily rousing at the elephant for his naughtiness we are finally off. What a wonderful morning we had...........

On returning to our hotel by elephant we spent a few lazy hours by the river watching the antics of the locals enjoying their holiday. Come late afternoon it is off for a ride in a dugout canoe made out of a Kapok tree,

then a walk through the forest to the Elephant Breeding Centre. You cannot describe how gorgeous these creatures are.

These elephants spend their mornings giving elephant rides but during the day they graze in the park, returning late afternoon to be housed at night.

I cannot tear myself away but we need to cross the river and walk the few kilometers back to Sauraha before it storms. Our walk takes us through the Tharu villages where the people continue to live as they have done for 100s of years.

Next day we are back down to the river to watch this Aussie guy (he was having trouble staying on) bath with the elephants. It truly is a wonderful spectacle watching them play in the water. If you shout "chhop" you even get an elephant shower!

Whilst enjoying the spectacle Skill got chatting to this little girl collecting wood and helped her tie a knot to keep the bundle together.

Another amazing day and another canoe trip (along a different stretch of water) to the Elephant Breeding Centre where we again play with the babies.

To end the day we perch ourselves beside the river and watch the sunset.

Next day it is time to leave, we are sad to be saying goodbye to Gopal our tour guide. He was such an interesting man, who had worked so hard to rise above his poverty stricken circumstances. He is now working hard to educate his three girls. A rarity in Nepal.

We head towards Kathmandu via Daman. We have been told that the road is a bikers dream with a beautiful, winding mountain road over high passes. It is also reputed to have the best view of the Himalayas in Nepal. What people fail to mention is that it has just had unseasonable snow falls. (It is also at this time that Kathmandu gets snow for the first time in 62 years)

We have a great ride until we hit the passes where the snow is over the road, somehow we make our way through it until about 5 kilometers from Daman where I bail off the bike and walk. Skill slowly picks his way through the snow and ice.

Occasionally he will get stuck and will have to wait for me to catch up and push to give him enough momentum to get going again.

On my walk I encounter the locals who have converged on the place to play in the snow.

By the time we reach Daman we are both exhausted so we bunker down in the only hotel in town which is pretty ordinary. It is absolutely freezing so we hunt and gather some food, make a cup of tea, put on every piece of clothing we own and get into bed where we stay till morning.

Next day the weather has not really cleared but we take some photos anyway and then it is another lovely days ride towards Kathmandu.

All is great until we hit the Prithvi Highway at Naubise then the traffic and traffic jams start. However my navigational skills must have improved over the past 12 months because we make it to the Tibet Peace Guest House in Paknajol without taking a wrong turn. Unload the bike, sit in the sun in the garden, order lunch and have a beer.

It is then that we relise that we have achieved our original goal, Istanbul to Kathmandu, rather a special feeling.

Over the next few days we just chill out in Kathmandu savouring the food and running the gauntlet of the touts in Thamel, who talk to you in veiled whispers. "You want smoke", NO "Hashish", NO "Opium", NO "Magic Mushrooms", NO "Rickshaw", NO Tiger Balm, NO "Trekking" NOOOOOO.

Once again fuel has becomes an issue and the queues at service stations are over half a kilometer long. We decide to bide our time and wait it out.

In the meantime we visit Durbar Square where the city's Kings were once crowned and where they ruled from. The square remains the heart of the old city. We spend our day just wandering and watching.

On another day we visit Swayambhunath also known as "The Monkey Temple" named after the troop of monkeys that live there.

Then before we know it we have been in Kathmandu a week. It is a dirty polluted city seething with touts and beggars but there is something about it that holds great appeal, well to us anyway. However life is tough for the locals, while we are there the power loadshedding hours increase to 7 hours a day and there are several bandhs (public strikes) and the rubbish is not collected for a week owing to some political crisis.

One afternoon we get a first hand experience at how quickly things can spiral out of control. Whilst Skill is out having the bike washed and I am out shopping a local child is hit and killed by a minivan. Within minutes the driver is being hauled out of the vehicle and almost lynched, the police intervene just in time to save his life, but the vehicle is torched and within another 10 minutes there are 1000s of protesters on the streets, setting alight tyres. The police have no control.

I make my way back to the Guest House but Skill takes hours to get back on the bike via backstreets as the city is gridlocked.

During that first week we also change to the Kathmandu Peace Guest House only because they have bigger rooms and we can spread ourselves out. We also decide that we will head to Thailand so we start to make plans to crate the bike up and organise plane tickets. We end up using Eagle Eyes Freight Forwarders to do this and have no complaints.

Whilst organising this we run into several other overland motorcyclists whose company we enjoy for the next four days.

Back at the Guest House we have new companions, Alan is an American who spends his time between Myanmar and Thailand and is a wealth of information about both countries. We thank him for all is help.

We also have the company of two German couples who have driven their Landcruisers overland along the original Silk Route including Afghanistan.

Over the next week we fall into a lovely routine, Northfield Café for breakfast, shopping and sightseeing, Dolce Vita for coffee, lunch wherever we fancy, cocktails at Rum Doodle or Maya Bars and dinner at K-Too or Everest or La Dolce Vita and then in the evening out to listen to a band. It is just unfortunate that we both suffer from bad colds.

During this week it is also the Festival of Holi, which was really fun.

This Water Festival takes place on the full moon day in March, basically it is huge day of water fights, from every rooftop coloured water bombs are launched at anyone and everyone. This was an incoming missile just outside our room.

Finally after two weeks in Kathmandu we follow the cratemaker out to the airport,

and get the bike crated up.

Tomorrow we leave this wonderful but troubled country. It will be with a heavy heart.

Cheers and Beers,

Quote for the Week: "Our happiest moments as tourists always seem to come when we stumble upon one thing while in pursuit of something else." - Lawrence Block

India - part 3

Life in Goa is quite blissful and we spend three days at Palolem, just swimming, eating, and generally relaxing.

However the restaurant next door cranks up their music at about 11.00 pm and have a penchant for rap so we walk over to Patnem to check out other accommodation options. We are amazed at the difference between the two beaches, Patnem is so much quieter and low key. We love it and make the move. We choose the newly opened Carlito huts right at the end of the beach. There are five huts, and we are only the second people to stay in them. Everything is spotless.

Our only neighbours are a great young French couple and their young "bebe" Max who is a delight and sleeps right through the night. The staff adore him and kidnap him every opportunity they get, his parents often have to rescue him from the kitchen or the restaurant where he is being fed an endless supply of chocolate.

And of course there is a restaurant and bar run by the very obliging "Jo".

Life is rather idyllic, each morning we awake to this view of the beach,

then it's off to a breakfast of fresh fruit salad, homemade yoghurt, and masala omelette.

Next is a morning swim, a stroll along the beach, a late seafood lunch.

Then another beach stroll where there is always something to entertain and delight.

A sunset swim, sunset drinks,

More seafood for dinner, a moonlit beach walk and bed. No wonder we couldn't leave.

While we are in Patnem we meet up with five other motorcycle travellers, Bob and Pete, Annis and Laurens and
Cecelia. They had all travelled from Europe, via Turkey, the Central Asian Stans, Mongolia and Russia, China and Pakistan. The guys had travelled in pairs but Cecelia made the journey alone. Quite a remarkable lady!!!!

It was great to compare stories and share meals.

While we were stopped Skill gave the bike the once over as he had been concerned it was occasionally running rough, the hot idle speed had dropped and recently needed several adjustments and the cold fast idle seemed not to be working at all. Nothing serious enough to stop us, but it needed checking.

So being the engineer type he consulted the rapidforum Vstrom website users for some advice.

Although all sorts of things could be checked, most involved tools and parts not available to us. So Skill decided to install our spare sparkplugs and balance the throttle bodies. Unfortunately the vacuum gauges normally used for balancing are not available in India as they don't have multi-cylinder bikes, so he used an old BMW trick using a length of clear hose and oil to indicate vacuum balance. Only problem is it took 1 1/2 days and 150km riding around Goa to locate tubing the correct size before he could even start!

In the end neither sparkplugs nor balancing solved the problem - bugger, what now? After lots of thinking and reflection (well his current book was "Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" after all) Skill made some minor adjustment that immediately fixed the automatic fast idle. Great, but he was annoyed it took so much time and effort only to find it was so easy to fix. So while things were apart the bike got an oil & filter change and a good check-over.

Just when he thought he was almost finished, he discovered one rear wheel bearing was totally collapsed - bugger! Now as luck would have it the cook (whose brother in law owns the huts) had a friend who was a good motorcycle mechanic specializing in imported bikes - both a rarity in India. Skill rides to Benaulim to meet him and after a shopping expedition returns with only non-sealed type bearings, but they will do the job for now. On his return he starts to work on replacing the bearings which proves difficult in the now blowy, sandy conditions only a few metres from the beach. Without any shelter, windblown sand is sticking on everything and without proper tools the job is difficult. However after several hours, skinned knuckles and some (we actually lots of) swearing - success, new bearings are in and the bike should be right to go again hopefully!

We do not want to leave Goa, but after 2 weeks our Indian visa is fast running out so we must go, calling in on our mechanic friend who has found some better sealed bearings for us as spares and would not take any money for them or his time!

We overnight in Morjim in the North of Goa and are so pleased we chose the south of Goa for our 2 week stay, the beaches were much nicer as was the atmosphere.

From here we decided to head North to Agra as quickly as possible, so we overnight in Kolhapur, then retrace our ride to Pune where we get lost for two hours (again) before finally getting on the right road and staying overnight in the uninspiring town of Ahmadnagar.

The next day we leave early and ride 200km to the wonderful Ajunta caves. This is World Heritage site and dates from around 200 BC. The 30 Buddhist caves are cut into a horseshoe shaped gorge. In each cave is an intricately carved Buddha and in some caves the remains of vast frescoes.

It is getting late and trying to escape the touts proves difficult, but finally we are on our way and get to Jalgaon. On the outskirts of town Skill thinks there is something wrong with the bike but traffic is heavy and stopping is not easy. At a set of lights people are pointing at the tyre, I get off with difficulty (we are so hemmed in by traffic) and yes the tyre looks decidedly flat. We are lucky as there is a tyre repair place about 100 metres from the intersection and the traffic policeman stops all the traffic so we can get there.

Skill manages to plug the hole under the watchful eyes of 200 (no exaggeration) pushy spectators who all offer helpful advice in Hindi all at the same time, while none would have ever even seen a tubeless bike tyre or plug repair in their life!!

The plug seems to do the trick and we use the tyre repair man's compressor to fill the tyre. A lovely man who refuses my 15 rupees telling me it is only 5 rupees. I reoffer the 15 rupees, he refuses saying it is not right to take 15, it is only 5.

We find the welcoming Hotel Plaza just before dark which is such a relief, it has been a long day. We must give this hotel and owner a big plug, it is cleanest and most helpful, honest place we stayed in, in the whole of India (apart from Rajasthan).

We leave early next day after checking the tyre which seems to be holding. This day rates up there as the worst days ride we have had on the whole trip, the roads are indescribably bad and the traffic is insane. It takes us eight hours to do 325 km, in some places the road is almost blocked by the many trucks with broken axles and differentials due to the state of the road. Then finding our nominated hotel in Indore proved difficult. We were absolutely exhausted and knew that tomorrow was probably going to be the same except longer. So Dinner and Bed.

Next day was not quite so bad, the roads improved slightly and the truck traffic thinned out considerably. We only have a six hour day and end up at the highly recommendable state run Shivpuri Resort.

Over our afternoon beer we get chatting to three Indian retirees who have spent their retirement travelling India and tell us we cannot miss the Temples at Khajuraho or the Village of Orchha, so next day we change our plans and head to Khajuraho.

The road to Jhansi is a vast improvement on anything we have travelled on in the last week, so we make the most of being able to travel at up to 90km per hour. After Jhansi we move onto Khajuraho stopping for a roadside fruit snack in the middle of a field, but of course the locals turn up and we happily manage to stretch our fruit lunch between numerous people.

We end up arriving at a reasonable hour and finding an Ok hotel with an expensive room but they "Promise" us there is hot water.

On arrival we meet up with two cyclists Ania and Robert from Poland, who have made the same journey as us. They are a great couple and we enjoy their company. It is now like we are fully fledged members of some "Overlanders" club, with remember when, horror/fantastic hotel stories, Tehran pollution, Pakistan Police Escort tribulations, terrible Indian drivers etc etc.

Next day it is off to the Temples. The grounds surrounding the Temples are peaceful and offer us some retreat from the usual Indian touts and hassles. Oh yes, then there are the Temples with their erotic art work.

Now we have your attention ............ The Temples were built by a Chandela Dynasty and survived for five centuries before the Mughals trashed it. The Temples date from around AD 950 to 1050 and were astonishingly built over only 100 years, and no one really knows why they were built at Khajuraho. There was nothing of great interest or beauty here and no big population centre near by so the question remains "Why Here?" However it's isolation helped preserve it from the Muslim invaders and it fell into ruin and the jungle took over until 1838 when a British officer, TS Burt was shown the temples by his bearers. Needless to say he was shocked and was reported to have said the erotica was "a little warmer than was any absolute necessity for."

Experts are uncertain of the reasons for erotic sculptures. Theories include, a Kamasutra for the young Brahmin boys in the all male temples. Others claim the figures were to prevent the temples being struck by lightning by pleasing the rain God Indra who was a bit of an old letch. However the most popular belief is that they are actually Tantric images.

Anyway whatever the reason the Temples are truly a marvel. We spent a good four hours soaking up the magic before joining Bob and Ania again. They were meant to be leaving by bus to Varanassi but apparently bus services had been cancelled, for no particular reason (except it is a Saturday) so they were staying put.

I also have a huge argument with the hotel manager over the decided lack of hot water, which he tells me is "Hot", try tepid. Skill comes to the rescue as I am about to do him bodily harm.

We say goodbye to Bob and Ania next day and have a pleasant (well the truck drivers only try to kill us twice) ride to Orccha where we stay in the state run "Bewa Cottages", except ours is a tent, beside the river.

It is a really peaceful place, as we are only staying overnight we do not visit the Palaces and Temples. Instead we walk along the river where we meet some interesting people

and into the village where we gaze at the beautiful buildings from afar and markets up close.

Orchha was founded in 1531 and was a Rajput capital until the late 1800s. There are three Palaces with medieval Islamic architecture and three large 16th Century Temples.

We are sorry that we have cut ourselves short of time as Orchha has such a peaceful feeling to it, but onwards to Agra, another bone shaking, traffic clogged road but we arrive at a reasonable hour and find the welcoming Tourists Rest House easily. They even tell us our parcel (containing our new keyboard) has arrived and hand it over. Bless Kath's little cotton socks, she has also sent us some magazines, trashy ones for me and motorcycle ones for Skill. Over a beer we happily peruse them before having dinner with 4 other travellers, Mel from Armidale (Australia), two British guys Mark and Andrew and Yamuna who was adopted by Dutch parents from an orphanage in Tamil Nadu, India some 20 years ago. She is back to visit India for the first time. Hers is a really interesting story.

Next day Skill wanders the streets while I do not leave the garden confines of the hotel, reading my trashy womens magazines and catching up on the now way behind blog. Beers and dinner with Mel and Andrew before a late night. It is wedding season in Agra so every night just as you are starting to doze off the 100 decibel wedding processions start. It really is a sight to behold.

The terrified looking, sweaty, groom is usually riding a decorated white horse followed by a line of dancing people, holding lanterns connected by frayed electrical cables powered by a generator carried in a tuk tuk belching out two stroke fumes. Add to this a huge sound system where everything on the graphic equalizer at full volume, blasting distorted Indian music into the night.

Next day we bite the bullet and take an auto rickshaw to the Taj. I am not quite sure what I was expecting, in fact I was expecting to be disappointed. We were not, it truly is a beautiful ethereal sight.

While taking in our surroundings I get chatting to this young man who tells me his tale of woe. He is in love with a young teacher but his parents do not approve and will not sanction a "Love Marriage" so he does not know what to do. Arranged marriages are still the norm in India, with "Love Marriages" accounting for only 2% of all marriages.

Next day we manage to find our way out of Agra without too much trouble and the double lane highway to Varanassi is looking promising but that soon changes as it goes back to one lane criss crossing from one side of the unbuilt freeway to the next we are down to an average of 30km per hour, remembering this is the number 2 National Highway. Then just as we had given up hope of even getting half way to Varanassi, the 4 lane highway appears out of nowhere again, so we do make it to the industrial city of Kanpur, but another long day. Trying to find a hotel again proves difficult and in the end two wonderful Hindi speaking boys on a motorbike take us to the main part of town, we are so grateful as we would never have found our way.

We are stopped outside a couple of OK looking hotels trying to figure out what to do next and of course the crowd is gathering when, this vision appears and says "Gday can I help you out". Yes it is another angel. Geoffrey is an Indian who lives in Melbourne and is back home visiting his parents in law who own a Hotel.

We are saved, they let us park the bike in the foyer and welcome us wholeheartedly. It is a lovely hotel.

Next day is more of the same, but we need to navigate our way through Allahabad. Allahabad is at the confluence of India's most Holy rivers, Ganges and the Yamuna, as well as the mythical Saraswati River. It is at this point that Pilgrims come to bathe each year, but once every six years Ardh Mela takes place and millions of Pilgrims visit. The most Holy week being during February. And guess when we arrive????

The newspapers report that during this week 20 million people come to bathe along this small stretch of river. Difficult to comprehend the scale. It takes us a couple of hours to make our way through the traffic. This photo is of the tent city which springs up during the pilgrimage.

We do make it to Varanassi and have GPS way-points for the Hotel so life is reasonably easy. Now as luck would have it, our friend Caroline (who trekked with us to Fairy Meadows, Nanga Parbat, Pakistan) is also in Varanassi, so we catch up with her for dinner, it is so nice to see her. We are staying a long way from the city centre so catch a rickshaw back to the Hotel, what a scream, there are wedding parties everywhere blocking the road so the driver takes it upon himself to get us to our hotel using footpaths, roadworks, one way streets, hotel gardens and any other means at his disposal as long as we keep moving. By the time we do arrive back at the Hotel we are in hysterical laughter, it was as if we were part of a James Bond Movie chase scene.

Next day we spend walking along the Ghats beside the Ganges, with it's eye popping sights.

The bathers.

The washing,

The cricket

The near naked, ash covered Sardus

The markets

The snake charmers

The Buffalos

Not to mention the burning ghats where bodies are cremated in public.

In the afternoon we take a boat ride with Caroline and her friend Uwai.

I am unable to describe Varanassi. It is a filthy, dirty, traffic ridden city with a highly polluted river running through it, and touts and rickshaw drivers hassling you at every turn BUT it is a highly religious city which draws you in and seems to pocess a powerful mystical quality. We enjoyed our visit.

We leave Varanasi with ease, unbelievably there are signs we can follow, but alas it is not the road we want, but we follow it anyway. It takes us 5 hours to do 200km to Gorakhpur.

I should explain that Gorakhpur is currently under military/police curfew as two days previous to us arriving, three trains had been burnt and there had been continued rioting in the streets. We are not sure of the reason. Fortunately we arrive just before 5.00 pm and find the Hotel thanks to Abhijeet who finds us on the street and kindly shows us the way.

The Hotel Bobina comes recommended in our Guide book, but the lime green fish tank in the foyer should have had alarm bells ringing.

What a circus? Of course the usual hot water issues, (I am so over being lied to about hot water, they know there is no hot water but the same charade is played out in most hotels) so bucket hot water for a shower which is not a problem if they wouldn't lie to us in the first place. Then down to the restaurant which the manager made a point of telling us, was open.

No menu, OK what can we have??? No one speaks english but we glean that the cook has gone home because of the curfew so we can have omelette and butter toast. OK that will be fine. Forty five minutes later no omelette but our toast minus the butter does appear. I ask if there is a problem.

Yes there is a problem, no one knows how to cook an omelette. I offer and go out to the kitchen to cook dinner, where I find 6 men hovering over a gas hot plate. But the owner is horrified and hunts me out. So after another 30 minutes two omelettes???? appear. The saga continues as we try to order tea. So two hours after first ordering we achieve an omelette, toast and a cup of tea. But the final insult to this injury was the bill, we get charged, on top of, the 15% hotel tax, a 10% service????????? charge.

Let's just say at that point we make the decision to leave as soon as the curfew is lifted in the morning and have a roadside banana breakfast. Oh yes forgot to mention, after dinner we have no water in the room at all. At 11.00 pm we are just dozing off when there is a knock on the door and a man proudly announces the water is back on and proceeds to come in, turn on all the lights and demonstrates this to us by flushing the toilet.

Oh well some days are like that.

I guess in our story we need to mention the "Sounds of India". Every morning you are awoken by what we have christened "the sound of India". That is the men of India coughing and hacking up copious amounts of phlegm and sputum, which they then proudly spit anywhere and everywhere. They are completely and utterly preoccupied with spitting in this country.

I should also make mention that travelling behind the buses is a dangerous proposition as the Indian travellers seem to have a propensity to vomit out of every single bus window, so if you are not spat on you are bound to be hurled on instead.

Then comes the TRAFFIC ............. I cannot even begin to describe how bad the roads are, they go from a lovely two lane highway (still with obstacles such as water buffalo herds, goats, cows, ox carts, tractors and trailers, scooters, pedestrians, and the obligatory trucks careering towards you on the wrong side of the road) to a single potholed bitumen track to a dusty dirt track with half metre deep holes, all within a few kilometres. No exaggeration here. Then to that equation add insane traffic and drivers. Our Scottish/English Land Rover driving friends Rose and Dave came up with rules for driving in India that went something like this, with a few additions from us:

1. Firstly ensure your vehicle is NOT roadworthy and make sure your tyres are completely bald and preferably patched.

2. Do not use your indicators (they are non existent on trucks and buses anyway) instead use funny hand and finger gestures which no one can interpret or understand, to signal your intent.

3. Always pull out in full view of oncoming traffic, preferably causing them to take emergency evasive action.

4. Overtaking maneuvers should always occur on blind corners, single one vehicle roads or dangerous mountain passes.

5. Aim your vehicle directly for the dotted white line and do not deviate from this practice.

6. When stopping, do not pull over and try to inconvenience as many people as is humanly possible especially if you are a bus driver.

7. Trucks and Buses must travel on the wrong side of the 4 lane freeway in the fast lane careering towards oncoming vehicles abusing anyone who dares to think they can use their side of the road in safety.

8. Cars, motorbikes, bicycles, rickshaws and carts should all use whatever part of the road they want, in whatever direction they like, and should change their minds regularly and without warning.

9. Pedestrians must wander into the path of oncoming traffic without paying any attention at all, then look totally shocked and amazed when approaching vehicles sound their horns.

10. Livestock should always be herded along the main road, preferably in the fast lane on divided freeways so the stock can graze the median strip.

And finally you must try your hardest to kill other road users.

We met one Indian man who said to drive in India you need 4 things:
1. Good Horn;
2. Good Brakes;
3. Good nerves, and finally;
4. Good Luck.

As you can tell from the sarcasm, I have really struggled with the riding in India but Skill seems to have been able to keep it all together, and still enjoys being on the bike. But we would both be lying if we said driving in India is a pleasurable experience.

It is just the ridiculous "me first" mentality. They would rather kill you and themselves or hurt and maim someone or destroy property than wait for one second before pulling out, turning off, or overtaking. There are absolutely no rules and even if there were, there is no one to police the rules. The end result always seem to be the same, a minor or major accident usually involving a truck.

What can you say about India. Life in India is difficult but never dull, traffic chaos, noise, filth, rubbish, mangy dogs, cows eating rubbish, no respect for personal space, everyone, including priests, beggars, touts, rickshaw drivers and shopkeepers all seeing you as a Western walking cash machine. You want to yell and scream is sheer frustration, "Get me out of this bloody place". But you will forgive all of this when something magical happens, a colourfully decorated elephant walks on by, you see vibrant coloured saris drying in a stark brown dessert landscape, you witness ox driving water wheels to irrigate crops, or see the Hindis worshiping their Gods in beautifully elaborate or decidedly simple temples, or watch young children bathing playfully in a river, or smell the glorious scent of roses in the flower stalls.

It is a land of such contrasts, obscene wealth, debilitating poverty, colourful beauty, dirty ugliness, extreme kindness, impatient rudeness, quiet gentleness, ruthless violence, stark desserts, glorious beaches, lofty mountains and flat plains.

It really is "Incredible India" but after three months the good bits seem to be fewer and farther between and the bad bits more frequent and annoying, so it is definitely time to go. Roll on Nepal.....

Cheers and Beers,

Quote for the week: "The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page" - St Augustine

For other travellers out there here are our top accommodation tips for India, these are the places that went out of their way to accommodate us. They also have secure parking:

Bikaner: Bhairon Villas (our favourite, run by the wonderfully hospitable Harsh)

Jodhpur: Pal Havelli Inn (a close second)

Udaipur: Udai Niwas Hotel (Parking here is tight and you will probably have to remove luggage to get up the ramp)

Jalgaon: Hotel Plaza. Simple but a really lovely man running the place Parking is on the street but right at the front door and there is a night watchman, pretty safe.

India - part 2

Finally we are back in action with a new iPAQ keyboard to write the blogs and we have a little catching up to do. Thanks so much to our friends Kath and Sean for scouring Australia to find it for us, then flying to Melbourne to pick it up and post it, hope you enjoyed yourselves. The lengths some people will go to so we do our blog homework. So now where were we last blog.....

Ahh yes, ......We leave Jaisalmer and it is off to Jodhpur, once again riding through the desert with its beautiful sand dunes and old forts. We are totally amazed that we even find Jodhpur as there are roadworks everywhere with no signs and the deviations are more reminiscent of driving across the Gulf roads in the Northern Territory (Australia). Bulldust, feet deep.

We find our hotel without any trouble, only having to stop once and ask the flower sellers in the market, we then ride right through the middle of the Sadar Market, not for the faint hearted, but once again we score on the Hotel front, staying at the glorious Pal Haveli Inn.

It is an old Haveli set around a court yard and owned by a terrific family. Although these places are a little more expensive (this one 800 R/ $26.00AUD) they are great places to stay, the rooms are beautifully decorated with lanterns, antiques, rugs and wallhangings. Check out our bed. I felt like a princess.

We also meet up with Alida and Chris (from Jaisilmer) again and share our afternoon sunset with them.

Unfortunately the inevitable happens and I get the dreaded Indian travellers belly-bug and am bedridden for the first day in Jodhpur. I am not happy. The staff bring me a constant supply of 7-Up and check on me every few hours while Skill spends the day out and about in the market.

Next day I am feeling better (antibiotics are wonderful things) and it is off to the fort. Meherangarah is a true fort, still owned by the present day Maharaja, it is perched on a 125m hill with ramparts, battlements, cannons, and studded reinforced gates.

And there is great audio tour (we usually avoid them) which explains the history and life of the fort in detail. These small handprints are the sati marks of Maharaja Man Sigh's widows who killed themselves by throwing themselves on his funeral pyre in 1843.

We enjoy a a truly captivating day here.

Then we head on down to the Jaswad Thada, a white marble memorial built for the Maharaja Jaswant Singh II in 1899.

Then to end the day we watch the sun go down over a few beers. Life is tough.

The following day we spend walking the streets around the old city, checking out the clock tower and the temples. In the afternoon we decide we should book a hotel in Udaipur as Christmas is fast approaching, after 12 phone calls and no luck (the Indian population also take their winter holidays at this time) we decide we like Jodhpur and we will stay put till Christmas, the staff at Pal Haveli cannot believe that we are staying for so long, but start to treat us as family, they know our breakfast choices off by heart, its the little things like the extra lemon on our pancakes. Check out our other breakfast companions.

The following day is a lazy one for us but it is also the Maharaja of Jodhpur's birthday so the owners of the hotel (who are relatives) look resplendent in their turbans and jodhpurs as they leave for the birthday celebrations.

Our host and favourite employee at the hotel (Limbah) is not joining the celebrations but is very happy to have his photo taken on the bike.

In the afternoon Jana and Paul, turn up at the hotel for lunch so we wile away yet another day perched on the terrace. (Sorry Jana, Limbah has chopped you out of the photo.)

Over the next few days we amuse ourselves by haggling with the bangle sellers, getting lost in the market, doing some shopping in a refreshingly hassle free, fixed price shop and we also go out to the Palace for a few hours and are in awe of the privileged life that the wealthy in this country have and had.

A little bike servicing is due....

We also marvel at the old blue city. It is surrounded by a 10 km wall and is an intricate maze of narrow winding streets. Traditionally, blue signified the homes of the Brahman caste but everyone now paints their homes this luminous blue colour.

Christmas is approaching but there are no decorations or any evidence that the Indian population observe Christmas, not that the mostly Hindu population should I guess. Then to my surprise when we get back to the hotel one afternoon Yogita (the owner's granddaughter) is decorating a pine tree.

Later in the afternoon we see a very bedraggled Santa riding a scooter then a little further down the street Santa is out and about on a camel. This is Christmas in India.

Christmas day is a quiet affair, we have not even managed gifts for each other. We ring home and feel homesick but soon overcome our melancholy with a few beers on the rooftop.

Then head out to see if we can get some money out, post our package and find anywhere that can fix our PDA keyboard or even buy a new one. Our efforts are fruitless, all the money machines are out of action because of power cuts, the parcel section is closed as it is Christmas day and the keyboard is a completely lost cause.

We cannot find anywhere that serves any resemblance of Christmas dinner so we opt for the only place serving non-curry dishes, Pizza Hut, and yes we enjoy it. In the evening Limbah comes to see me and presents me with a posy of flowers and a cheerful "Merry Christmas". That night there is also a huge fireworks display. All is right in the world.

After eight days it is time to go. On leaving, our Rickshaw driver/companion wants a photo on the bike so we oblige.

Then it is off to do battle at the Post Office first, it takes us 2 hours. Mind numbing bureaucracy and nobody actually working, of the 40 employees only two were actually serving, the other 37 were drinking tea or playing solitaire on the 5 working computers and one man was mindlessly stamping a book of papers while shouting at everyone else.

It is now midday so we head towards Ranakpur, a fairly pleasant days ride (well for India) and we end up at the dodgy Shivka Lake Hotel, but the Jain temples are amazing. This sacred spot is in a wooded valley, the main temple was built in 1439 according to a strict system of measurement that had the number 72 at it's core. Inside there are 1440 individually carved pillars and 72 shrines. It is truly one of the most beautiful Temples we have seen in India.

When we are ready to leave the motorcycle is surrounded by people, (as usual) including this priest who was insisting Skill take him for a ride.

What would be the penalty for injuring a priest in the event of an accident?????? Skill declined.

Next day it is on to Udaipur via some scenic backroads to Kumbalgarh Fort, built in the fifteenth century by Maharana Kumbha. The Palace at the summit is known as the cloud palace because during the monsoon it is shrouded in cloud. This fort is not on the main tourist route and is quite an amazing sight.

It then takes us two and a half hours to do the last bone shaking 60 kms to Udaipur. After having to ask for directions countless times we manage to find the Udai Niwas Hotel. Parking the bike here proves to be a little difficult, the luggage comes off and all the staff push and guide Skill up the steps and thin ramp but success and the bike has a home off the street. We have a lovely room and great views from the rooftop restaurant.

Udaipur is quite a beautiful city surrounded by mountains and set around Lake Pichola. In the midst of the Lake is the extraordinary Lake Palace.

This Palace was built by Maharaja Jagat Singh II in 1745, but not only did he build this glorious vision on Jagniwas Island he also flooded a village and enlarged the small existing Lake so as to have the ultimate water view.

Udaipur is obsessed by the James Bond movie "Octopussy" which was filmed here over 30 years ago. Every night at 7.00pm every hotel plays the movie. No deviation from this time slot is ever entertained.

Other attractions in the City include the City Palace, the Jagdish Temple and the Monsoon Palace to name but a few.

We decide to stay in Udaipur until New Year so once again we just relax enjoying the company of many Western tourists that seem to frequent this part of the world.

We meet up with a Kiwi family, Guy, Michelle and Ella who are having their first Indian Adventure. We have met so many people travelling with young children in India, they do not seem to have any difficulties at all. In fact in some ways it smoothes the way as the Indian people love children.

We spend most of our time in Udaipur walking by the Lake entertained by the daily lives of the people, especially at the washing ghats, and also in the backstreets. A really interesting place and the touts are not too persistent.

One afternoon we venture into a restaurant for a beer and spend quite a few hours watching the antics of this troop of monkeys.

Then as we leave and step out onto the street we are nearly run over by an elephant in the peak hour rush. It's times like this you just love India.

We also play the ultimate tourist and take a sunset boat ride.

New Years Eve is a fireworks spectacular, which we watch from the rooftop of the Hotel, over a few beers, I would have killed for a glass of champers. Shouldn't complain too much as we did find a bottle of white wine.

We leave Udaipur after saying goodbye to the wonderful Beamer, another favourite waiter, on New Years Day.

Destination Goa. We spend five solid days on the bike to get there.

The first day was to Vadodara in Gujarat.(A dry state so no end of the day beer here) While I am looking for a hotel Skill is mobbed by about 100 people and I cannot even get into the bike to tell him where we are going to stay. After battling my way through the crowd we head for the sanctuary of the Hotel. It is hot, I am tierd, the hotel staff are hassling me for a tip and then Skill comes upstairs and cryptically tells me "the newspaper is downstairs" to which I tersely reply "I don't want to read the bloody paper, I want a cold drink and a shower".

But NO the local Press have heard of our arrival and want to interview us. Reluctantly it is back downstairs for a chat and photos. Such is the life of celebrities????????????????????????

Next day is a good ride on good road to a dodgy, expensive highway resort hotel just North of Mumbai, where nothing works including the water and they still want to charge us 1200 Rupees. Let's just say we were not happy and made our feelings known and next morning did not pay the asking price.

The following day is horrendous. Because we are on a motorcycle we are not allowed to use some Expressways and have to take minor highways which are not signed, we get completely lost and end up going around and around on the outskirts of Mumbai, every one we ask for directions says after the obligatory head wobble "Just go Straight". In reality this means "I have no idea, but I cannot possibly lose face, so I will tell you anything".

Eventually Skill spies two Western dressed girls carrying books. I jump off the bike and run after them. They give us the best directions, draw us a detailed map and tell us "God no, don't ask a man in India for directions".

Success we are on our way, but the directions lead again to the Expressway with signs in English, or we can take the National Highway with signs in Hindi. After being lost for two and half hours we opt for the Expressway, we figure they have to catch us first.

We cruise on the Highway pretending not to see the countless whistle blowing, bamboo stick wielding policemen and make it 50 km but are stopped by the toll gates. They want to fine us 1500 Rupees but we are quite adamant that there were no signs (which there weren't) so how were we to know.

They are completely bamboozled but the lure of 1500 Rupees is too much. I am getting tierd of sitting on the bike while they dally around and say "Just tell us where we are meant to go" They explain but are still holding out for their rupees. In the end Skill gets off the bike and towering above them says forcefully "Just open the gate" which they do and we are on our way. At least the expressway got us out of Mumbai.

We laugh because apparently it is too dangerous for us to have our 1000cc motorcycle on the Expressway but the usual assortment of rust-bucket buses and trucks doing 40km/h are allowed, then they have no hesitation in sending us 4km down a one way road the wrong way to get onto the Highway we are allowed to use. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

We arrive in Pune and stop on the outskirts to check out our Hotel options, we are engrossed in our task and after five minutes look up, we are surrounded by no less than 200 people and the crowd is growing. People, bicycles, motorbikes and Rickshaw drivers are now blocking the 4 Lane National Highway in both directions. It is chaos, buses, trucks and cars are all blowing their horns and the traffic is building, all caused by us parked under a tree beside the road.

We get out of there the best we can pushing our way through the traffic and pulling in at the first hotel we see. Skill comes back and says "It's bloody expensive but really nice, we're staying" The hotel staff are so friendly and cannot do enough for us. It is a brand new Hotel.

Sheer Luxury, we don't leave the confines of our airconditioned three roomed appartment ordering room service and luxuriating in a bathtub with enough hot water to fill it. A comfortable inner spring queen size bed and double sheets. Everything is clean and works properly, very un-Indian.

Next day rejuvenated it takes us over an hour to get out of Pune and we only managed that because a wonderful young man guided us on his motorbike. Then it is an easy day on the freeway (we are allowed on this one) to Belgaum where we overnight.

Onward to Panjim via the National Highway 4A. This would have to be the worst road we have come across in India. It is a deeply potholed dirt track for some 50 km of 155 km. It is down to first gear trail biking, bottoming suspension and crunching the bash plate again several times. Skill had to work hard to keep our fully loaded heavy bike upright as well as dodging the trucks/cars/buses trying to run us off road.

This is a national highway and it got much worse after this.....

We do arrive in Panjim, once again ignoring some stick wielding, whistle blowing police (who knows what they wanted, but we were not in the mood), in time to pick up our parcels. One is from Pac Safe who have sent us a replacement base for our tankbag. They were so helpful and had no hesitation in sending us a free replacement as the zip had broken.

The other is from our close friends Kath and Sean, our belated Christmas presents include Anzac Biscuits, Tim Tams, rum, champagne, and a SD card with new music, bless them.

It has been such an awful day and the previous four days have been stressful, the terrible roads and woeful drivers, I cannot count how many times we have been run off the roads. So in true girly fashion I have my first meltdown and burst into tears with at least 20 people looking on.

Skill valiantly decides we should get out of there and make it to Palelom so we can awake to the sound of waves the next morning.

We do make it, and after checking out three places we decide on a beach hut. I don't think we have ever enjoyed a beer so much in our lives. We put on our new music, drink our beer, eat some Anzac Biscuits and watch the sunset, before venturing out for a fish and lobster dinner.

Welcome to Goa.

Cheers and Beers,

Quote for the Week: "Our happiest moments as tourists always seem to come when we stumble upon one thing while in the pursuit of something else" - Lawrence Block

India - part 1

Disaster has struck, the letters z, x, a, s and e have died on the collapsible keyboard so you will have to be patient and forgive typos and worse than usual spelling in this blog as it will be a tedious process until we get a new keyboard, anyway here goes.

Well it's another day and another border crossing, Pakistani Customs are right outside the hotel so we venture over, they totally ignore us as they are far too busy going through a German Hippie/Yogi's luggage, scanning his walnut barrel as a potential bomb threat. Eventually they get us to bring our panniers in and start to go through them but quickly get bored with that and don't even check the tank bag or the tubes on the bike. Giving us the all clear they wave us on. We go to the next checkpo