The Golden Puke - The Golden Temple & Boarder Closing - Amritsar, Punjab

Originally I wasn't planning to head north towards the boarder but I'd heard on the 'traaavellaaar' grapevine the Golden Temple (the Sikh's holiest shrine)and the pomp and glory of the boarder closing with Pakistan wasn't to be missed either. So heeding the words of from my father: 'I wouldn't go anywhere near the boarder if I were you' I did what came naturally to me and promptly disregarded what said. Before I knew it I was racing (literally) along the windy roads of McLeod towards Amritser in the back of a car with a driver who would give Lewis Hamilton a run for his money!

For those of you who've had the er, pleasure of 'experiencing' the driving skills in India you'll know first hand the journey is well, erratic to say the least. The roads in India can only be described as disorganised chaos. An average one hour journey consists of at least five near misses (the head-on collision kind), car, bus, tractor horns blowing consistently - you don't indicate in India; you sound your horn continuously and pull out when a car on the opposite side of the road is directly in front of you. Most over taking 'maneuvers' are done on a bend, the brow of a hill or as the car/bus is chugging up a steep hill. Oddly enough a car (or bus) journeys have never really bothered me. I started to wonder why then realised I'd experienced it before - my sister Georgia's driving is not that dissimilar!

The drive to Amritsar was no different. After five hours of neath death experiences and endless 'banging' tunes ranging from Bollywood to trance esq 'world music' me, Sonny, Chris and Emma arrived in Amritsar. It was full on in the sense that I'd travelled from relaxing, sleepy (ish) McLeod to a dusty, sweaty, busy Amritsar. And back to the 'real' India with a bang. With that comes the starring, the pushing, the smells of sandalwood, curry and incense.

We'd come to see the Golden Temple. And as it turns out stay at the Golden Temple (well on the grounds) too. So far so good you think. So did I until I realised I would be sharing a bathroom, shower and eating my meals with 1000 pilgrims.

Immediately my stomach churned. This was my idea of sheer hell. Questions and images raced through my head...what are the hygiene standards likely to be of hundreds of people? squat toilets - will they be properly drained of will it be like wading through the sea to get to them (I like to tell myself it's water I'm walking through to stop me from retching). Did they use a high quality brand of washing up liquid to wash utensils in the canteen which feeds thousands of people a day? How often are the toilets cleaned with bleach, whats the bedding like - is it clean? My worst fears and questions were answered when I walked into our room. Sorry, I mean cell.

My jaw would've dropped to the floor if I knew it had been cleaned in the last decade. It was a pit. It was disgusting. For starters there wasn't a window. It was a windowless hovel. And it stank. There were three metal framed beds. There were four of us. We were sharing. I can handle sharing a bed with a few people but not in a cell with the remains of food from the previous 'tenants' smeared on the walls and rubbish on the floor. What I certainly cannot handle is a stinking, dirty 'mattress'.

I made a few major mistakes during my stay in Amritsar. The first was agreeing to stay with a zillion pilgrims in a hovel. My second was smelling the mattresses. They weren't exactly mattresses. I'm exaggerating. They were like the 'mattresses' you get on a sun lounger. The type that means you wake up feeling like you've done 10 rounds with Mike Tyson and you've aged 20 years. Anyway, back to the mattress - as my nose edged closer the stench hit me like a punch in the face. A mixture of sweat, dead skin cells and God only knows what else. I dry wretched.

Let me put this in context for you. Since I started travelling I haven't trusted one single guest house on the issue of cleanliness of their bed linen. When I arrive anywhere my ritual is to lay my sarongs neatly on the bed. I lay two on the bed itself and the third acts as a cover. Call it neuritic, in fact call it what you want. I have a phobia against catching skin diseases and crabs. Therefore my delicate sun kissed skin hasn't felt the crispness of bed linen since July. Needless to say there was no way my lovely sarongs were going to be tarnished with the dirty, stinking ma tress. There was nothing else for it. The sleeping sheet, which I only ever use in extreme circumstances ie trekking and train journeys, was pulled out hastily.

Why didn't I move you may ask. Good question. I couldn't. Well I could but my fellow travellers where not only in the mood for saving rupees but also on a quest to make me a 'proper' traveller. Apparently you're not one until you've stayed in a hovel and paid virtually nothing for it. I tried to argue that I was flashpacker - a back packer with money. I even offered to pay for a room in a guest house. I even pulled out the age card ie 'I'm nearly in my mid 30's you can't expect me to stay here at my age'. My pleas meant nothing to them. It fact I think it encouraged them. I then got annoyed at the fact they thought I wouldn't' be able to handle it so I agreed to stay. Pride is a terrible thing.

First stop was the boarder closing parade. With the words of doom from my father ringing in my ears and the ever growing paranoia that I was about to get nuked, (thanks dad!) we crammed into a taxi for the 50k journey to the boarder.

Basically army guards from Pakistan and India march up and down and have what can only be described as a 'march-off' to signal the end of the day. It's like a mark of respect for both countries. A bit like an extended goodnight or rather a 'we've not killed each other today so as a mark of respect I'd like to thank you for that!'.

Both sides cheer and jeer at each other - the atmosphere on the Indian 'side' was electric. It reminded me of a bollywood film. People dancing, cheering, singing. Brilliant. The Pakistani 'side' would then retaliate with their version.

I was woken at 4am by a million pilgrims and chanting. We were waking up early to watch the sun rise over the Golden Temple so you could call it an early morning wake-up call - literally. The temple itself is utterly gorgeous. Golden would you believe. It's open to all and surprisingly no-one asks for any money. It has a genuine spiritual atmosphere too. Pilgrims and visitors to the complex have to remove their shoes, wash their feet and cover their heads. The architecture, like the religion, is a blend of Hindu and Islamic styles but very different to both. The golden dome represents an inverted lotus flower, a symbol of Sikhism's aim to live a pure life.

Four priests form inside the temple keep up a continuous chant in Punjabi from the Sikh holy book and this is broadcast around the temple complex by loudspeakers. I actually got chatting to one of the priests. Really nice guy who was more than happy to talk about the religon which I know very little about. In fact everyone I met was really happy to explain a bit about the rituals (as such), do's and don'ts etc.

After embracing the sunrise over the temple we headed to the canteen for breakfast which consisted of Dal, a roti (pancake thingy) and chai). Sonny speaks Punjabi so we got chatting to a woman sitting next to him with her husband. Obviously Sonny was translating as my Punjabi isn't quite to up to conversation level yet (LOL). The conversation was pretty alarming. Turns out she was visiting the temple to heal her face which had a fair few scars on it plus you could tell she's suffered from a broken nose. When we asked what had happened to her face she smiled, pointed at her husband and told us that he did it. Just like that. As bold as brass. I nearly spat my chai out there and then. I had to really stop myself from giving him severe dagger looks. Just goes to show how different the cultural differences are - but then maybe not. I think it seems to be more hidden in the UK. Anyway, she seemed totally fine with it - well, accepting at least....

I have to admit I was pretty horrified at the wife beater experience - having been woken up with the birds I toyed with the idea of going back to the cell for a rest but then reconsidered. In stead we decided to try a few delicacies from one of the street vendors.

MISTAKE NUMBER THREE.

The street vendor was such a sweet lady, all smiley and happy for us to sample her snacks which comprised various fried foods ranging from samosas, bahjis and few poppadoms. I gobbled them up and then promptly threw the lot up. Imagine if you will sprinting to the shared toilets. Trying to dodge the various people lying on the floor along the way. Being starred at like you belong in a zoo (the cubical doors don't lock and swing open all the time) as you throw your guts up. Repeatedly. In the end I just wept. I wept for the fact I was puking into a squat loo, for the fact I had 10 women watching me as I did, because I had slept on a bed which hadn't been cleaned since Noah built his arc and I'd OD on fried foods, for the fact that there wasn't a 5 star hotel near by and for the horrifying realisation that I had a horrific choice to make. Do I stay in the cell and try and recover from sick gate or brave a 10 hour bus journey. I chose the bus journey.

Don't get me wrong the Golden Temple is fabulous and the board closing parade is a definite must-see. Just don't stay at the temple or eat from food stalls!!

The Temple of Rats - Bikaner, Rajastan

The first thing you notice about India, aside from the fact everyone seems to have a mobile phone, is the vast array of colours every where. From the colours in the shops, the pastel colours the houses are painted to the Sari's the women wear. India is definitely a country of colours which seem to come to life even more when you enter Rajastan. The region has been described as 'real' India - how the country used to be before the claws of the western world seized the country. It's certainly got a certain rawness to it.

The setting for Bikaner is the arid desert so the deep reds, bright greens and yellow colours of turbans and Sari's really jump out at you. The main attraction to Bikaner is the Karni Mata Temple at Deshnok, about 30 mins drive in a tuk tuk from the town centre. The drive through the desolate dessert adds to the fact it's probably one of the strangest temples and definitely not for the squeamish.

According to legend, Karni Mata, in incarnation of Durga, who lived in the 14th Century, asked the God of Death, Yama, to restore to life the son of a grieving storyteller. When Yama refused, Karni Mata re-incarnated all dead storytellers as rats, depriving Yama of human souls.

Thousands of Kabas (holy rats) now live at the temple. If you don't like rats - which I don't - then it's verging on fairly traumatic. Firstly, don't be lulled into a false sense of security when you see the temple looking all pristine. Sparkling in the sun. The silver doors with their intricate details is also misleading as behind those doors are thousands of rodents. Literally.

First shocker of the day was that you have to remove your shoes. Of course you do. It's a temple. That's what you have to do before you enter a temple. Picture if you will a grown woman whimpering and wincing as she takes her first step and places her clean delicate foot onto the white (cleanish) marble of the temple. All manner of things were running through my mind. How many diseases can you catch from rats? How many bacteria can happily live on marble floors? How good is the Indian health care system - is there one?

So there I was picking my way through the rats, wincing with every step and trying to avoid touching anything that a rat may have been on. Which is pretty hard when you're on tip toe, dodging running rats and trying to ensure you don't 'step' in anything. I was trying to spot where the rat crap was on the marble floor but I gave up when I nearly mistook shite for a rat and screamed as I thought I was about to step on it. See pics above for living proof - I came pretty close to the rats many times!

Don't get me wrong. Rats aren't scampering around your size 6's. They keep pretty much to themselves. And I have to say they did look a little un healthy so I don't think there's any danger of you leaving the temple thinking rats are cute and cuddly. These one's certainly aren't!

Having said that apparently it's lucky for a rat to run over your foot. Even luckier for you if you spot a white rat. You can also eat prasad - holy food offering covered in rat holy rat saliva which is claimed to bring good fortune. I was willing to take their word of it in this case!

The second shocker of the day was the fact I spotted a few babies on the floor of the temple. Happily crawling around ON THE FLOOR OF THE TEMPLE (see pic above). It was as much as I could do to stop myself from picking them up off the floor. But to Hindus of course the temple and its rats are holy. Thousands of pilgrims head there every day. No place for me to be simpering and wincing around in!

The 'experience' of the holy rodents definitely earned me a look around the shops. Namely the spice market in the old town. It's one of India's biggest. The old town itself is set within the old Bikaner fortress. It's pretty with winding alley ways which are home to over 500,000 Indians. There you can buy an array of spices ranging both common and obscure.

Rajasthan is the home of 'home stays' where you basically stay with an Indian family, home cooked food and definitely not as clinical as a hotel/guest house. It's quite a nice idea and means you're slightly out of the way from the usual foray of travellers. The place I stayed at - Vino Paying Guest House - was more sophisticated affair but very much still family run. The room was great for 250 INR (that's about 3quid), food was good too.

Some lovely people were staying at the guest house. Although I nearly threw myself out of the window when the inevitable 'traaavellaaar' talk began. It's the usual 'who's done what, been where and who's out done who on the "I've been to the most secluded place on earth" front. God, it's so bloody dull. I asked an Italian girl where she'd stayed in Pushkar as that was my next port of call. She smirked and then proudly (and loudly) told me that I wouldn't have heard of it as only Indian people stay there and then went on to tell me that Pushkar was so 'last year...it's all about Udaipur you know'. I went to bed before the inevitable narcalepsy that I tend to suffer from when these type of conversations start. Aaaaah, you gotta love the travel snobs.

I'm getting married!

On the 27th May 2008. I know because the tailor in McLeod's told me so. There I was talking to Mr Seeklam about the trousers I wanted him to make when the inevidtable question about my marital status was asked. Mr Seeklam was horrified when he found out I wasn't married. After nearly choking on the news he told me about his son who ran another tailors in Delhi was actually looking for a wife. He even showed me a picture. Mr Seeklam looked genuinley sad for me when he told me I could have married his son if I was Indian and Hindu. You can imagine my dissapointment on hearing the news. He seeded a lifetime of textiles in Delhi right before my eyes then cruely snatched the 'dream' away from me. I was crest fallen.

Mr Seeklam then looked at me like he'd just remembered he had a couple of grand stashed behind the counter, grabbed my hand and read my palm. Pointed at a few lines with his biro and grunted. He then declared that I wasn't to worry. I'm to be married 27th May 2008. He even wrote the date on my palm in case I forgot I suppose!

He also went on to tell me that there in fact 3 men after my affections. None of them will talk to me about it. Can I just take this opportunity to say if any of the men he's talking about is reading this then please feel free to approach me. All applicatants are considered on a case by case basis. Although I must admit I do have a strict criteria!!

Seeing The Dalai Lama

OH. MY. GOD. I can barely contain my excitement. Today I saw the His Holiness The Dalai Lama. It was completely unexpected (like most things wonderful) and I was totally elated afterwards.

Someone who shall remain nameless had suggested to me that I wouldn't get to see him as was busy drinking cocktails with Richard Gere in America. Outrageous I know! However despite the cynicism of some friends I had actually already heard on the grapevine that HH (His Holiness) the Dalai Lama was returning from American. Word was that he would drive through McLeod on the way to his residence in the village.

I didn't really think that much of it. The thought on standing around at the side of the street waiting all day for a glimpse of him didn't really appeal to me. Besides I assumed the streets would be packed. So I went to yoga instead. Obviously two hours of Hatha Yoga one of the best instructors in the world, Vijay (FYI!!), gave me more karma points than I'd anticipated. I strolled out afterwards, noticed the streets were deserted and asked one of the shop owners, who I'm now friendly with, what was going on. He stared at me like I was mad (a look I've come to know and love!) and told me HH was driving through and were I should stand so I can get a good look at him. I nearly screamed. And then sprinted up a steep hill to secure a place.

Fortunately for me my new friend and Tibetan Buddhist Monk, Tezin, was waiting in the crowd. Next think I know I'm standing with a couple of Monks with burning incense in my hand waiting for the Dalai Lama to drive past. How surreal and frankly how brilliant. If someone had told me this time last year - while I was slaving away in PR, loathing every single minute of it then drinking myself into oblivion each Friday to try and forget about my week - that I'd be chatting with monks while waiting to see the Dalai Lama I would've roared with laughter as a mask to hide the fact I secretly hoped they were right!!

The build up to the drive thru was pretty impressive. Days before the Tibetan prayer flags (five colourful flags: red, yellow, green, white and blue which represent the five elements: earth, water, fire, cloud, sky) had been positioned all the road to the Temple where the DL lives. Images of the Buddhist/Tibetan endless knot (based on cause and effect ie karma as it all links up) had been painted all away along the road leading to the temple. It wasn't overly busy. Maybe a few hundred people (mostly Tibetans) lined the streets holding burning incense and praying. The atmosphere was very peaceful.

We knew his was coming when the security guards started to walk down the street asking people to move back. As soon as he car approached the monks I was with and many of the people around me started to bend down, lower their heads and pray. It was an amazing sight. And then there he was. I got a clear view of His Holiness, all smiley and cute bowing his head with his hands in pray position. I swear he gave me a knowing look and a nod!!!

At home in McLeod Ganj

I spent just over two weeks in McLeod and I have to admit if it wasn't for the fact it was beginning to get so cold in the evenings - my hands nearly dropped off with frost bite when I was in bed trying to read my book - then I would've stayed longer. It's the only place to date I've felt at home. I loved it.

McLeod is home to thousands of Tibetan refugees. So it's really not India at all, more like a mini Tibet. At least without the Chinese breathing down their necks. People mainly talk Tibetan or Hindi. The Tibetan way of life and customs are clearly evident around the village. From the elderly women who wear traditional head dresses, the prayer wheels that people hold as they walk around the village mumbling their mantras to the turquoise jewellery on stalls, to the momos sold by street vendors. The Tibetan way of life is very strong. And there's a real village/community feel to McLeod too which is rather nice. A breath of fresh air in fact from the hecticness of dirty Delhi.

McLeod is set in a valley. The mountains are the backdrop for the small village which is set on both sides of the valley. It's busy, lots of shops which obviously I like but not too hectic. The temple is one of the most important to Tibetan Buddhists outside of Tibet plus it's the home of the Dalai Lama and certain areas of the surrounding area of the temple are really beautiful.

The sun shines brightly during the day and the sky is a crystal blue. It's quite surreal sometimes. For example you'll be sitting on the veranda at Nick's drinking a lassi and overlooking the valley when an eagle will swoop past. Then you look at the roof tops and a few monkeys will run across!

At night it's freezing which has naturally meant I had to go shopping for the must-have wrap. I also had to have a strong word with myself in order to avoid going for the ultimate traveller look of a hooded multi coloured yak wool jacket. Seriously, I brought a copy of Vogue (admittedly 3 months out of date but who cares) to sort myself out. It's actually frightening how if you see something enough it starts to grow on you. I wouldn't mind if it was a Marni jacket but I was starting to eye up some seriously tree-hugger esq items. Please forgive me.

McLeod has everything I like to do on offer. I practiced yoga daily with the world renowned Vijay, meditated, hiked (well, okay I walked up to a waterfall in a near by village called Bagsu and nearly lacerated my feet. It took longer than 30 mins which in my book qualifies as a trek!), there are a few movie houses with some of the latest releases, you can teach conversational English to Nun's and Monks (which I did - see pic!). And there's the temple which is really peaceful. Most importantly McLeod allows you to take chilling out on to another level. Plus it's really friendly.

The hub of the activity happened at a vegetarian Tibetan cafe called Gakyi - home of the best veg curry and brown rice. I virtually set-up home there. I met a ton of people from all walks of life: Swiss, German, Brazilian, Canadian, Scottish, Norwegian, Austrian, American and Australian. Each evening we'd all meet up, take over the small cafe and tell jokes. Well, they did. Jokes aren't really my thing. The only ones I do know tend offend people so for the benefit of world relations and for the first time in a long time I thought it best not to share my humour - I was trying to make friends after all!

Overall the pace of life in McLeod is so much more relaxed. I ended up chatting to all manner of people be it monks, nuns, travellers, locals. And some of the stories I heard were definitely eye openers. From local Tibetan guys who 'pray' on young innocent western woman to monks that de-robe for their lovers to the best skin care treatment (yep, I think I may have found the best anti-wrinkle cream to date!). It was fantastic. I could've stayed there for a very long time. But I had to leave. Someone 'kindly' introduced me to the Tibetan Bakery. It was there that I experienced chocolate balls for the first time. Amazing. Too good in fact. I had to leave to save my waistline!

I'm not finding myself....

Day two in McLeod in Northern India and home of his Holiness the Dalia Lama. To say I'm over excited and utterly thrilled to be here would be a massive understatement. I've planned this particular part of my travels with military prescion. I've dreamt of being here and now I am it's everything I expected it to be and more.

The contrast from here to Delhi is unimaginable and a huge relief. Chris decided to join me on this leg and I think he's pretty taken by it too. It's very peaceful. The backdrop for the little village are the mountains, the sky is a beautiful clear blue and the people are lovely. Real mix of Tibetans and Indians which seems to work well.

Thankfully Chris is more than happy to leave me to my own devices and go off trekking while I fully immerse myself in everything I promised myself I would do ie. yoga, meditation, astrology predictions by a Tibetan monk, gening up on DL and Buddhism.

I'm staying at OM guest house which makes me smile every time I think about it. Oh the irony. It's a friendly family run hotel, clean, good food and the veranda overlooks the valley. Perfect.

It's not too touristy here either. Admittedly there are a few people who are clearly embracing the look and are in danger of perhaps staying here rather longer than they should but all in all it's pretty chilled. I love it.

I've been deliberating whether to do the 10 day SILENT meditation retreat at the monastery. I've been really debating whether to do it and have decided not to for a number of reasons:

1.) I'm not looking to find myself. I've already found myself - I'm now accessorizing.
2.) I'd have to share a room with someone and not speak to them. I'd have to remain in complete silence which I would find rude and irritating...if not a bit boring.
3.) I have a massive problem with rules and/or strict programmes where I'm told what to do - it brings out the worst in me
4.) I like this characteristic and fear 10 days in silence under a strict programme may ruin this characteristic I've grown to like about myself - despite the fact it often gets me in trouble i.e. disapproving looks from the monks in Chiang Mai when they found out I'd absconded one evening and fraternized with the outside world!
5.) I like to talk a lot.

So I've decided to stay put for a while. I've befriended a yoga master so I'm practising yoga and meditation on a daily basis, reading virtually every book I can get my hand on about DL and also hanging out with a rather cute Tibetan guy who trekked across the Himalayas for a month to get here to escape the Chinese authorities - all in the name of research of course!

This is my kind of accessorizing!

Dirty Delhi

I never thought I'd say this about anywhere I would visit but I have to say Delhi is the worst place on earth. I think I'm in hell. I can't wait to leave.

They say that Delhi is an assult on all your senses - this actually a phrase which immediately makes me roll my eyes and urges me to contain a snort of distgust as, having read it in the LP guide, virtually every traveller I've met to date has tried to pass it off as their own opinon of the city.

Delhi doesn't just assult you though, it attacks you. It violates you. If Dehli were a man it would be the type of guy women run from. They kind of guy who uses the same underpants for a week, expects his mum to do his washing even though he's lived alone for a number of years, gobs on the floor and expects you to buy him a drink for the pleasure of experiencing all his disgusting ways. In a nutshell it's a filthy, dirty shit hole. Never ever come here. It's vile. The pollution is out of control, something I've never experienced before. As you head towards the city you can see the smog sitting virtually above the buildings. You can barely see the sky. The atmosphere is thick with dirt and yellow smog. You instantly start coughing when you arrive and your eyes sting too.

I'm really struggling to find anything positive to say about this place. Even walking up the road is a hassle. If you try and go anywhere via a tuk tuk it's stressful. First the driver pretends to know where he's going, then when he realises you don't want to go to an emporium shopping he ups the previously agreed price. Then you have to go through the whole negotiation again pulled up on the side of a busy main road, horns beeping, dirty gushing in your face. Failing that, you have the pleasure of being driven around in the dirty smog for at least an hour while the driver pretends to know where he's going. It's vile. Normally these little 'challenges' don't both me but when it's stifling hot and your eyes are stinging....let's just say I've been very close to screaming a number of times.

Travelling to Old Dehli train station in the back of a tuk tuk was yet another gloryfing experience - I actually tried to take a photo of the market we drove through but the polution is so bad the picture was specaled. VILE.

I was already feeling pretty emotinal having just said goodbye to Brooke and Kylie who I'd been travelling with for the past two months. I was gutted saying good bye to them both and had to hold back the tears. Unbeknown to me I would shortly have a perfect situation to unleash my emotions.

I nearly lost it at the tuk tuk driver when we pulled up at New Dehli train station rather than OLD Dehli train station and was told it was going to cost us double what we'd been previously told to get there. I was seriously seething about it though, in fact raging would be a better way to describe my reaction. Chris - guy I meet on the way to Agra who decided for some unknown reason that he'd like to travel around north India with me...a decision I suspect he's now regretting - bore an expression of fear as I ranted about how we were being ripped off, how I hate tuk tuk drivers and I couldn't wait to leave Delhi. Thankfully he calmed me down and therefore ensured us and our luggage being thrown out on to the street. I had to have yet another word with myself because at the end of the day we needed the driver more than he needed us and frankly for the pricely additional cost if a pound it really didn't matter. This added to the fact the tuk tuk driver has a crap job and has to endure the polutin and general madness on a daily basis. I could leave, he couldn't. So basically shut up neen!

There's light at the end of the tunnel though - I leave tonight on a train heading for Dharamsala, home of the Daili Lama. I intend to meditate, maybe go on a 10 day meditation/yoga retreat, make friends with the DL's secretary (already developed an email friendship - in my mind anyway!) and hopefully get to meet his Holiness too. Rock and roll.