The Jungle Book

After the difficulties endured in Goa, having finally busted Fiona out of the hospital, the team were keen to get #ontheroadagain and so gave Fiona a mere 6 hours to enjoy the resort before rolling her out of bed and into the back of Granny. Some major mechanical miracles appeared to have taken place during the night we had left Granny at the garage and thus when her engine fired up at the second time of asking with no need for licking wires, rolling her or calling in extra help, heart attacks were narrowly avoided and we actually managed to leave by 7am for the first time on the trip. And so began a very successful if also very hot and at times slightly long day of driving. 325km were covered in a true dawn to dusk day as we pulled into yet another roadside hotel in yet another random small roadside town with darkness enveloping around 6.45pm. Exceptional heat and a lack of sleep the previous night reduced us to hour long driving rotations again in an effort to stave off the sleep in the arvo with plenty of passengers taking naps at various points during the day. Highlights of the day were that a) we didn't break down (miracle part II) and b) we had a mini lunch time rave as the maître'do was so flabbergasted by our portable speaker that he insisted on us playing music at full volume to continuously prove that it actually worked. The low point was discovering the Indian postal system is about as reliable their drivers and so disappointingly HKC failed to be reunited with her sports bra and towel despite promises they had arrived in Goa. Overall a long but successful day which took us over half way towards the national park. 

Another early morning rise and more success with getting the shaws going quickly enabled back to back 7am departures - a feat that seemed near impossible in the dark days of Rajasthan and greatly facilitated another good morning of progress. Whereas the previous day had featured pretty coastal routes and plenty of greenery, at times progress had been slightly dull whereas almost immediately the team were flung into simply magnificent jungle roads, winding up and down mountain tracks and which left all in awe at the beauty around us. For the first time in a while we encountered near empty roads and so the team took the opportunity to indulge in some rickshaw frivolities, practising the eagerly anticipated 'Rickshaw transfers' whereby passengers swap from one rickshaw to the other. Alice was first up, and despite almost losing her to the road with the first attempt was ultimately successful and soon we had a right old merry go round of passengers to'ing and fro'ing between Granny and Mr. Mercury. Downhill, tarmacced roads had us absolutely flying along towards Nagarhole and the beautiful backdrops made sure lots of high quality filming took place as well. However being India no good road lasts forever and soon 'Diversion' signs appeared. With no apparent alternative route the team ploughed on. In the words of Boyz II Men 'We've come to the end of the road' - quite literally there was no more road they were building it right in front of us as we went along. Granny had a quick swerve to avoid the swinging arm of a digger truck and we hate to think how it might have ended had the collision actually occurred. But after a hefty 36km in an hour and a half (our slowest pace to date) we finally made it to Nagarhole.

After an initial rejection for entrance into the national park (we will be filing a complaint about discrimination against rickshaws...) we craftily took a back route and spirits were very high as we reached the Karnataka / Kerala border and started to see signs for various exciting animals. What a day it had been already and then boom: AN ELEPHANT ON THE ROAD!?! A genuine big assed, long trunked, ivory tusked elephant chillaxing on the side of the road, causing screeches on the brakes and shouts on shouts on shouts of 'Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God' in a completely and utterly surreal moment. Ecstatic bubbles continued  to effervesce from us as we continued on our way discussing just how lucky we had been when more faint grey shapes appear on the horizon queuing cries of 'another elephant!' 'No two elephants!!' 'No THREE ELEPHANTS!!!' Yep, a big fat family of elephants blocking the road. Initial excitement started to morph into slight fear for the safety of us and the shaws as the biggest elephant charged the car in front as it went past them but thankfully they must have liked the colour schemes of Granny and Mr. Mercury, letting us past in peace with nothing more than a good old waggle of their enormous elephant heads. Simply ridiculous scenes. An exceptional day threatened to end in ruin as we reached a gate where we were told we were not allowed through (darkness approaching and they thought a tiger might attack the rickshaws...) meaning we were staring down the barrel of driving in the dark with quite frankly shocking headlights whilst huge elephants roamed free on the roads. Perhaps the locals took sympathy on this perilous predicament and let us through the gate to get to a resort just on the other side. Pushed into a corner and with nowhere else to stay it was somewhat alarming when the resort said their initial price for the cost of a room, but a little schmoozing and the fact they seemed completely empty helped us negotiate them down to a more palatable figure. Then ensued an extremely tough sell for a bonfire and nature documentary from the receptionist and so overcome with awkwardness we deeted up and agreed to watch the doco. It actually turned out to be pretty interesting and put us firmly in the mood for safari the next day and after a cheeky snuggle whilst drifting off to the Italian Job, the team dreamt of their quest for leopards and tigers that was to come the next day.

After a morning dip we pressed on through the park but the most ridiculous number of speed bumps meant progress was slow. After scouting several of the swanky resorts in the area, nothing less than five stars it seems, we ended up in Serai resort. With all inclusive food we got a big feed in before the main event - safari!! With the resort boasting tiger and leopard sightings for the past three days our safari hopes were high but as we set out we realised that 3 hours is not long and in a dense forest a leopard sighting seemed unlikely. A lot of Bambis and cute monkeys later, hopes faltering, the engines cut and the ranger called for hush. Silence fell over the group. The anticipation was excruciating - what had he seen?! Then, it happened. A baby starts crying in the back of the jeep. Cue 15 collectively turning heads and collective index fingers to lips as people seemingly weren't satisfied with a crying baby as their lot for the safari. Luckily, soon the baby quieted and animation of a different sort arose as the safari guide started animatedly pointing at a nearby tree. There she was, just 30m away - a fully grown leopard lazing in a tree. A zillion photos later and she starts walking down the tree turning her full gaze on us and slinking off into the undergrowth. We cunningly outwit her by driving 50m on, waiting 5 minutes and returning by which point she was casually perched in another tree. Yet more unbelievable excitement and flashes as memory cards started to get maxed out. What a pretty lady she was...

Then, we start driving on feeling extremely smug as we go past other jeeps who are desperately trying to make their way to see our leopard. Jokes were being cracked about how ridiculous it would be if we saw an elusive tiger, but with only 2000 left in India and 64 in this particular national park, hopes were not high. Then out of nowhere the engine is cut and silence ensues again and when even the baby stayed quiet we sensed something big may be about to happen. And boy does a big, stripey, muddy male tiger qualify as something huge. Emerging from the undergrowth, the big cat pads towards us as there is a mad dash towards the front of the jeep. Lucky seat placement had RickinIt first there and right on point for some sensational sightings as the male tiger lazily moved across the path. Even the guide was excited and group excitement levels reached dizzying heights as we returned to the resort later that night. Our guide informed us of our stinking good fortune and with elephants, leopards and tigers in less than 24 hours we certainly felt lucky and also slightly bewildered that they let us take our rickshaws even through the outskirts of this significant national park. An all-you-can-eat-buffet filled our empty stomachs to tipping point as we reflected on what a truly ridiculous couple of days it had been. With only a couple more driving days to get to Kochi, the end of the trip is nigh but we continue to hit new highs in what has been a truly sensational trip so far. 

An infestation of worms. (And pooing in cups).

Apologies to the legions of fans who must be desperately wondering what has happened to us since the somewhat laboured arrival into Goa late on Thursday evening. And things have indeed happened. Maybe not quite as originally planned but they've happened. First, the biggest failure of an evening since the infamous debacle of NYE 2K14. Expectations were high of achieving 2 simple ambitions: 1) getting a good western feed and 2) having a good night out, both normally challenging in India but supposedly what Goa is all about. Suffice to say neither ambition was achieved. A gloriously continental menu offered a lot of early promise on the food front, but calamari without batter, crab without meat and a naaaaasty mushroom sauce on Gees plain chicken quickly buried ambitions of a good feed. Nevertheless, after stocking up with bottles of vodka and rum for less than the price of a tetleys bitter back in the UK we were still at least confident of a good night out. Games were played (Backlasher being an innovative adaption on the more teetotal normal Backpacker) and our usual bedtime of 10pm was soared past with gusto (amazing what a cheeky voddy mixer can do...) leaving everyone to put on their best dancing shoes and head out into the raucous Goan nightlife...Ambition 2 took a similar length of time to squash as a 30 minute wander around Anjuna revealed about as much nightlife as Roppongi on a Sunday night. At one stage deep into the walk we did hear music in the distance but an unnaturally high tide had destroyed the beach leaving swimming as the only option to reach the bar at which point we thought it was probably best to call it quits. 

Little did we know this would turn out to be the highlight of social activity in Goa as things took a dramatic turn for the worse (even by our fairly low standards) the next morning after Fiona was taken to hospital after vomiting through the night. So began a fairly terse four days in hospital with a lack of information seeming to be the enduring speciality of the staff. Midway through day 2 and after much rigorous questioning they finally deigned to diagnose which revealed she had a worm infestation in her stool (and stool on her hands after trying to poo in a cup...) and more importantly a stomach infection that had reduced her electrolytes levels and was causing inner turmoil. With PB having stayed the night with Fi on the first night, Gee emphatically volunteered to stay the second night in hospital by throwing up repeatedly in Fi's hospital loo until they were positively forced to admit her. Thankfully they both made relatively full recoveries, with Gee leaving earlier his morning and Fi mere hours ago leaving everybody ready and raring to get on the road again tomorrow. 

Much as it hasn't been a particularly exciting few days with the focus primarily being on Fi and Gee's recoveries, the team have still found ways to amuse themselves and provide entertainment. HKC, Rockstar and PB checked themselves into a luxury resort after which hospital visits became notably sparser as they chose to show their support from afar whilst drinking cocktails by the pool. They were also introduced to a new type of Indian sausage* when having ordered BOGOF cocktails during happy hour, they discovered that the cocktails were in fact 75% more expensive than outside of happy hour rather limiting the advantage gained from the deal. Within the hospital, entertainment initially seemed limited to TV and cards before the healthy members of the team took it upon themselves to raise spirits by providing their own entertainment. PB kicked things off memorably, if not joyfully, by having a gigantic wahh and storming out of the room after not getting his own way in backpacker, leaving everyone to wonder why they had invited a 5 year old onto the trip. Alice then stepped up and managed to annoy somebody for the first time ever by being irritatingly persistent in her pursuit of information and refusing to leave the poor nurses alone. Everyone was also consistently cheered up by a fantastically happy and kind waiter, who served 10 meals in a row to the team and never failed to serve up an extra smile with our dishes. The final piece of Goan entertainment came in one final sausage when PB, HKC and Rockstar 'accidentally' sent Gee to the wrong hotel (having been discharged from hospital mere minutes earlier) leaving hotel staff to surmise about the imaginary friends that she claimed were waiting for her by the pool. Overall not the perfect time in Goa but at least everybody is fit and healthy again with the final push to Kochin starting early tomorrow morning. 

*http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sausage  see third usage for those unsure of what a sausage is in this context - we can confirm it is in fact not referring to the foodstuff. 

Goally Goash, we are goaing to Goa!

A morning of no push starts, no break downs and a long, fairly turgid highway had left the ricketeers on the edge of boredom for the first time on the trip. Then, just as the yawns began, yet another car pulls alongside Granny. The usual hand waving followed that we've learnt means 'Please pull over, I would like to waste your time and take multiple photos of you.' As hardened travellers and used to the celeb attention we gave a blasé hand off, shouting back that we can't stop, no time... 'But I'm a news reporter and I want to do a story on you!' Say whaaat? Yep, you heard it folks - we've hit the big time! Naturally we suddenly found time in our busy schedule to perform a roadside interview for a National Indian News Agency, ABP news. You know it's an exciting moment when HKC manages to rouse herself from the 11 o'clock snooze for it and coincidentally, just as the camera started to roll, the girls' hair found a way to untangle itself from their buns and flow lusciously downwards. Interview performed, the news team asked if they could film us driving and so with heavy fears of the infamous stall, Gee and PB revved to the max and edged ever so slowly back on to the highway. Gee was evidently enjoying the limelight as she continued to cruise at c.10km/h down a national highway with the cameras rolling next to her. Then, as the TV crew looked set to pull away and we prepared for a return to turgidity, the Indian traffic police shocked everybody with a never before seen show of diligence by pulling us over and asking to see our licence, thankfully licence-less HKC was not at the wheel. Somewhat surprised by this act of diligence, when the general in charge put reflective tape on the back of our rickshaws and demanded he be interviewed about the safety benefits it provided to us, the team quickly realised that this was the most shameless attempt to get on TV since Kim Kardashian released her infamous sex tape. We are not convinced the Indian people will care about 5 foreigners doing a road trip, but we are at least confident that they will find us more interesting than a middle aged man talking about reflective tape. Suitably chuffed with our first interview and with escaping the road police, we were brought back to earth by a long, hot afternoon on the national highway which led us to resort to 45 minute driving rotations in a desperate attempt to stay awake on our route into Kohlapur. Having safely settled into a rather nice hotel, the team reflected on their first full day without a breakdown. This lack of excitement clearly didn't sit well with PB, whose stomach decided to perform its own form of evening entertainment and everyone else was entertained by a tense game of backpacker. With everyone in bed by 11 once again, the big question leading into the next day was how on earth we are goaing to party in Goa when none of us can make it past midnight. 

After the now traditional Hilary Duff tune to get things goaing the next morning, the team contemplated the day ahead. Oh my Goash, they thought, next stop Goa! And so, after an unusually slow start in terms of brekky, the 'shaws once again got going without any need for a push start leaving us all dreaming of a second day of no breakdowns. However, whilst one day of not breaking down was pretty fantastical, two days would have probably left us wondering whether someone had secretly swapped Granny for a new rickshaw and so it was not surprising that after a couple of hours of Goalorius driving through rural roads, we stopped to check Granny's nuts and bolts and found the exhaust once again ready to fall off. This precipitated the now all too familiar routine of finding the nearest village, looking suitably desperate, saying mechanic repeatedly and relying on the friendly / bemused locals to help us out. Whilst they are very friendly and knowledgeable about shaws, we remain unsure as to their ability as mechanics given their apparent inability to to tighten nuts and bolts that stay on for longer than a day. Nevertheless, we were soon #ontheroadagain and the driving just got ever more beautiful as we drifted around serene mountain corners and looked out onto lush Indian countryside. With an abundance of downhills adding about 10km/h to our average speed, and a quick stop at a particularly beautiful point barely denting this unheralded progress, we decided to press and aim to get their for the late 2.30 lunch. 

Ha. Ha. Ha. How foolish the young can be and a paltry 5 miles from Anjuna (beach resort we were aiming for), we were made to pay for this insolence as Granny finally bit the dust. The deterioration Granny had shown through the long lunchtime session came to a tee when as we went to pull away for this shortest final stint, there was a loud cracking / smashing sound which even the least mechanical could figure out was not good news. Whilst we have had parts split, fall off, crack and puncture we have never had one completely shatter and so as we looked under her engine to see plastic everywhere, it was part sadness and part admiration at her for finding yet another way to breakdown. For once mechanics were not forthcoming and so with the plan for a late lunch now long consigned to the history books, PB and HKC went for a real merry go round of the local town before finally finding a rickshaw mechanic in the depths of the darkest of dark avenues. Doubts about their credentials arose when they asked if we could tow Granny to them - with only 7hp we would probably still be there had we tried and so persuaded them to come out and take a look. They immediately told us the fan was shattered but once again found the exhaust was hanging on by seemingly nothing. A rather precarious drive to the mechanics and a full assessment there showed that she was so sick she'd have to spend the night and the whole of the next day in their care.

And so it was left to Mr Mercury to carry us the last stretch to Anjuna. And what a heavy burden it was. With all five of us jammed in (one thing off the rickshaw bucket list), as well as five large backpacks, our day packs, several litres of petrol and the cricket bat, it was a load no rickshaw should ever have to bear. But lil' old Freddie managed like a true champ, grinding his way up a kilometre of hill at a steady 10km/hr. He heaved and strained and in the end that little three wheeler triumphed into a Goargeous sunset. However, the road as per was full of potholes and as he struggled the last few kilometres with all those humps and bumps he broke his shaft.

Up the Pune

It is a sign of how frequently things go wrong on the roads that a morning in which we had to get a mechanic to fix our gears before we even started, ran out of petrol (again) and were fined 200 rupees for driving illegally on an expressway (discrimination against three wheelers...) was deemed a huge success and we made very good time in getting to Pune to visit CTspace, the Pune branch of our sponsor Idox. Initially not the friendliest welcome into Pune as we accidentally took a wrong turn into a Rickshaw car park and were soon surrounded by a group of drivers asking to see our papers and demanding to know why we were trying to park in their precious parking spaces. Soon enough we'd jovially explained that this in fact was the last thing we wanted to do, that we were in fact lost and eventually got directions to the correct office block. A tight squeeze and a bit more lost paint for Granny ensued on the exit from the car park, whilst HKC had to endure a highly patronising lesson in how to spot a gap in the traffic from a local who couldn't quite comprehend that a foreign girl could possibly know how to drive a rickshaw. 

However, in spite of this slightly inauspicious start to Pune, the incredible generosity of Sameer and his team at CTspace ensured that we had a truly fantastic time there. We were warmly and kindly welcomed into the office, and our need for tea satisfied with a good cup of chai. Tales of our trip so far were shared with the staff and we foolishly boasted that despite innumerable breakdowns so far, the rickshaws were in fact on excellent form having not broken down at all on the journey today. As I'm sure all our readers know, pride comes before a fall and shortly after our bold claims we were left red faced and once again desperately shouting "mechanic" as Granny had a punctured rear tyre and her gears had stopped working (again). Pats on the back all round for being able to identify the problem, but like every other breakdown we had neither the skills, tools or spare parts to fix the issue. Granny was left in the capable hands of a local mechanic whilst we went off to explore Pune and search for sexual enlightenment (http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajneesh). 

Sameer very kindly gave up his afternoon to show us round Pune. We visited Aga Khan Palace, where Ghandi was held under house arrest and where some of his ashes still remain, a local flea market and then joined several members of the CTSpace team for a Pune style thali dinner. The hospitality of everyone from CTSpace was exceptional and it was a pleasure to meet people from the company so kindly sponsoring us. We would also like to reiterate a more general thanks to Idox for their kindness and generosity in sponsoring one of the rickshaws. The logo makes for fantastic photos of the back of Mr Mercury but much more importantly the funds will make a big difference to our charity Broomwood in Ethiopia. Including the Idox sponsorship we have raised over £3200 for BIE, a sum that will be a huge help in helping the school with its planned expansion. We have set the ambitious target of raising £5000 overall so if anyone reading this fancies digging deep and donating (many thanks to those of you have been so generous already) it would be greatly appreciated by RickinIt and by BIE.

Boring blog post.

Quick update - we went a whole day without breaking down!!! Admittedly we didn't actually do any driving but still - got to celebrate the small victories in life. We had our first rest day and stocked up on sleep, good food and hot showers before getting back into the inevitable swirl of early rises, frequent break downs and dubious guest houses. All agreed that Mumbai is a truly fantastic place. The first evening we treated ourselves to a top notch afghani place called Khyber previously frequented by big names such as Prince Charles, Shakira and Freddy Flintoff - all for less than £20 a head so thank you to the strong sterling for that one. An entertaining taxi ride home followed, with all 5 of us marvelling at just how quiet his car engine was (we're very used to the loud growling of our rickshaws) whilst enjoying an impromptu performance of Jai Ho by our cabbie, who actually knew all those words that we enthusiastically mumble. Having been far too British about getting on the train the next morning (the first one pulled away in a blur of pointy elbows and general lack of queuing etiquette), the team got set up in Southern Mumbai with more delectable delights, this time in the form of brunch. An enjoyable afternoon of sightseeing, shopping and seaside relaxing ensued with Gee and Alice having the added bonus of learning that the UK has more than the previously assumed 6 million people. Whilst nice to have a rest, every loud, ugly sounding engine left us turning our heads in expectations of seeing our babies and expectations are high heading into the next leg of driving to Pune to see our sponsors Idox before continuing further South to the beaches of Goa. 

A new type of brakedown...

The rare morning of no breakdowns. How did we achieve this you ask? We took the sensible option of not driving decrepit 3-wheeled tubs and instead visited the renowned Ellora caves which, as everybody knows, host the world's largest monolithic temple (known locally as cave 16). 34 rock cut caves and temples made for a highly enjoyable way to spend a morning, although levels of media attention on us appeared to reach a frenzy in cave 16 but at least the majority were super cute kids so genuine smiles mainly came to the fore. We then had a remarkably good run in the 'shaws during the arvo, at least in terms of not breaking down but sadly all of the pot holes led to slow progress and us falling well behind schedule. Hopes soared of an improvement in conditions after we successfully bumped our way onto the start of a toll road but no one was quite sure what they were tolling as the road continued to be as smooth as PB's attempts to secure the elusive fivesome and soon a loud thumping sound started to emerge from the right rear wheel area of Mr Mercury causing yet another visit to our trusty friend, the roadside mechanic. Just a few minor-ish problems with the wheel, an outer screw had fallen off and all of the inner screws were crushed, but at least we had realised before we had to find out how the rickshaws fare on two wheels. A chance meeting with one of the local crowd who came to witness the changing of the tyre led us to heading to Shirdi - home of Sai Baba, 40,000 pilgrims daily and the highest concentration of hotels this side of Gleneagles (Gee says it has lots...) but, for those who want a more realistic picture, it is similar to Las Vegas, albeit where pilgrims replace the punters. Either way, enough choice to get a decent room for the night and everyone took the opportunity to fuel up on sleep...

Back into the realm of 6 o'clock alarms and the familiar turmoil of getting the rickshaws going again in the morning. After a couple of days solid progress, Granny had picked up an exciting new ailment to challenge its drivers - her brakes were broken. This was especially exciting given the morning was spent going downhill to sea level and, although obviously her speedometer is still broken, our best guestimations suggest she may have reached other worldly peaks of 60km/h. A particular highlight and triumph of gravity was when her engine cut out on one of the bigger downhills but she managed to coast for a good minute or so before eventually friction won out as the road flattened. Whilst a lack of brakes is a problem at the best of times, when combined with a stunning lack of road side mechanics and building city traffic on the outskirts of Mumbai, carnage ensues and Fiona was left with the tricky dilemma of how to stop Granny in traffic (the back of Mr. Mercury looked like a great last resort). To make matters worse, it sounded like her exhaust was about to fall off (it was) and as problems reached a climax first gear stopped working leaving us with just three working gears. At this point we ditched the initial plan of getting to a rickshaw showroom in favour of the continuing enjoyment of our health and our lush, youthful full heads of hair. Kind locals helped us find a mechanic, who in a state of increasing bewilderment discovered that the brake pad had snapped in half, the exhaust was on the point of falling off again, first gear was broken and the tubing connecting the air filter to the carborator was also no longer, in fact, connected. Good stuff all round but at least Fi did get his respect for driving using the clutch as a brake and with no first gear in a city of 18 million people. Either way, an interesting arrival to Mumbai and probably about time we gave the rickshaws a proper day off...

The one where it all went wrong

The route out of Ahmedabad should have been simple. However, Google chose this moment to throw a hissy fit and our 'blue dot' jumped around town leaving us to turn it back to the old school, whipping out HKCs compass and setting off on a SE direction. This worked for all of 10 seconds before predictably we started gagging and stalling our way through a chicken market in the backstreets in our attempts to reach the expressway. Just as the smell reached unbearable levels, Google kicked in and we found our way out to the Expressway. The road looked smooth, no pot holes, no bumps or lumps just open kilometres of easy driving stretched ahead...

At least this plan worked for longer than the compass idea but as we know all good things come to an end and after c.5 mins of the purest road you can dream of we reached a toll booth. With HKC having spied a sign suggesting auto-rickshaws may not be good enough for a road of this quality, the team approached the toll with trepidation. As a private vehicle we normally sail through Indian tolls without paying and so we cunningly thought that approaching at speed and shouting 'Private vehicle' may lead to all barriers removed and the blissful continuation of the expressway. Alas the barriers remained down, our shouting fell on deaf ears and a well dressed young man told us in perfect English that we had to drive back the way we had come. What's that!? A government official suggesting we drive the wrong way down an expressway?! Welcome to India. And so we weren't allowed the right way down the expressway but we were forced to drive perilously down the hard shoulder in the wrong direction just to satisfy Indian bureaucracy. This stint of driving into traffic seemed to invigorate a new side in Gee's driving style and soon she was driving the wrong way around roundabouts and overtaking on blind corners willy nilly leading to vocal cries of 'she does what she wants'. Nevertheless, we made steady (and safe) progress, but as light started to fade outside and lights failed to materialise from any of Granny or Mr Mercury's beams, the team were keeping a beady eye out for hotels before darkness enveloped us. And so it was with great relief that we spied 'Hotel Tapi' on the outskirts of Vadodara. Unfortunately, the team picked up more culture in learning that just because a place calls itself a hotel, does not necessarily mean it accommodates people. In fact, 'Hotel Tapi' was just a vegetarian restaurant and so the team were forced to head into the pitch blackness in a once again desperate search for a bed for the night. In a rare feat of sensibility, Vadodara actually had street lamps and so after some initial wahhing from Fiona about how dark it was (to be fair, bloody scary), the team coasted into rather nice lodgings for the night and once again admonished themselves for not getting the headlights fixed for the 5th day in a row. 

Day 6. Another early rise. Bags loaded onto rickshaws by 7.15. Breakfast toast ordered. On the plus side it was a huge luxury to have room service breakfast. On the down side, after waiting 45 minutes for our brekky, no one was surprised to see slightly burnt toast and jam be brought to the room but soon carcinogens were consumed and we were 'on the road again' in no time. A smooth, idyllic morning with no breakdowns, good quality roads and breathtaking views of a wildlife sanctuary. As you probably expect by now this bliss could not last and soon everything started to go wrong in quite spectacular fashion. Granny had become increasingly loud during the day leading to the now standard speculation from all as to what could be her most recent ailment as we filled our babies up with petrol. Then, just as we made to pull away, a couple of locals began pointing at the back of her. Initially considering this to be a standard request for a photo, we hopped out of Granny only to find that the silencer and exhaust had actually fallen off. Indeed, this was not ideal but on the one hand, at least it was now easy to figure out the problem. On the other though, seeing her whole exhaust lying on the floor was a new low for how bad these rickshaws can get and caused choruses of laughter amongst the locals as we wheeled her into the next door mechanic exhaust in hand. However, every cloud has a silver lining and this particular lining was that we discovered our lights did in fact function the whole time, but that with four university degrees (maybe one more to come when Rockstar eventually grows up) between us we still hadn't possibly fathomed that we might need to flick two switches not just one to get the lights to work. Pats on the back all round. Still, with new exhausts attached we entered Maharastra thrilled at the prospect of beers (Gujarat was a dry state) but quickly encountered two new forms of difficulty. Firstly, the roads started to resemble an Oscar Pistorious testimonial (full of holes) and secondly we appeared to have reached trucking Mecca with trucks on trucks on trucks leading to some high risk, low reward overtakes in the midst of crater sized pot holes. No permanent damage seemed to arise however, and soon enough we arrived in the small town of Sakri feeling slightly bruised but absolutely chuffed partly at our biggest day of driving so far, but mainly just at the fact that both of our rickshaws seemed to have all of their parts firmly attached. 

Day 7 and what an absolute bruiser she was. With an initial arrival time in Ellora estimated for 11-12, we eventually rolled in about 4.45 hungry, dehydrated and despondent after the normally reliable Freddy went through his teenage rebellion phase and decided to break down every 30 minutes. We can't even recall exactly what happened or what was fixed.  Already day 7 seems just a blur of mechanics, changing tyres, screwing on exhausts, pumping up tyres, fending off creepy locals and generally not making any progress towards where we wanted to go. Amidst the mechanics and marriage proposals, Rockstar apparently thought it was her turn to try some rally driving, 2 wheeling it round a very steep hairpin bend along our mountain route - justification? 3 wheels seemed a bit too boring. Eventually we navigated this Indian style assault course to arrive in Ellora. The punishment did not stop there however, when as soon as we rolled into the hotel car park a local started informing us of all the things he could already see wrong with our babies and promptly called the local mechanic. As it turns out, Mr. Mercury and Granny were created just 30km from Ellora in Aurangabad. But this wasn't all we learnt from the local mechanic as a fun filled 4 hour mechanical session led to a wealth of learning for all involved. Firstly, our rickshaws are over 10 years old. Secondly, we had been driving in imminent danger of blowing up due to a leaky petrol tube. Thirdly our carborator was in fact designed for a motorbike and not for auto-rickshaws. Tick, tick, tick. We could go on and on but we will instead attach the list of things that need replacing just on Granny to highlight extent of the problems. 

Faults with granny 

New carburettor

New silencer

Clean the carbon block in engine piston 

Check both rear wheels

Three new cables - accelerator wire, clutch wire, gear wire

New battery

In spite of their problems and inability to do as they are told, we still love our rickshaws dearly and the upshot of a late night visit to the electricians was that we now finally have functioning speakers meaning we can start blasting out the toonz and introduce rural India to the joys of Taylor Swift. We should also say that the locals in Ellora have been exceptionally friendly with several giving up their whole evenings to help us fix, rewire, translate, chat and drink chai with just to help us out. We continue to be in awe at just how friendly the people are and just how completely undoable this whole trip would be without the unending help and friendliness of the locals and so for that we thank you India. 

Absolute Carnage

Initial fears of getting up the huge hill were quickly pushed to one side as the 

Self Labelled 'best rickshaw driver in Udaipur' took control and kindly showed us some new tricks to fire our babies up in the morning (as with all things rickshaw it involves pulling a wire). Quite a talented guy, our saviour as it turns out. As well as being a pro rickshaw driver, he also claimed to run a guest house, to be studying maths, be going to London next week for his art career and supply a steady stream of LSD and free hugs. Whatever he was, he did get us out of a tricky sitch and for that we will be eternally grateful. 

After this surprisingly seamless start to the day, the team were off onto the road and into a relatively calm period by previous days standards. Whilst the rickshaws purred along nicely for a change, the team were instead treated to a wide array of sausages to keep them entertained. Firstly at lunch, with the language barrier proving an issue, the team just nodded enthusiastically every time they heard something they thought could be a food type. This strategy seemed to work well initially with a nice array of dishes being put in front of us, but before long the never ending supply of chapatis being brought out (Fiona taking her tally to particularly excessive new highs) left us debating whether we needed to rethink our food ordering tactics in future. The next sausage came in the form of a local rider who for a good hour or so played driving's version of footsie with our rickshaws, continuously overtaking before slowing to let us past before restarting the whole process again. Sadly the relationship never blossomed beyond this level with every attempt by us to initiate conversation receiving a big ole pie and the team were left wondering what went wrong when he eventually rode off into the distance. The team also indulged in a few home made sausages as Fi took a wee within touching distance of Granny, Gee was left behind as everyone else drove off and HKC decided to keep Alice entertained by falling asleep in the afternoon sun. 

Nevertheless the most interesting part of the day, in fact arguably the most interesting part of our lives so far was still to come. Having made faultless progress all day, Granny and Mr. Mercury were naively approaching Ahmedabad c.5pm in the afternoon. As we all know, 5pm is textbook rush hour time. What we didn't know at the time was that Ahmedabad is a city of 6 million people known for its high levels of traffic. With PB at the wheel of Granny and Rockstar at the helm of Mr. Mercury, it is difficult to describe the hour of absolute carnage that ensued as we weaved, ducked, crawled, crashed, walloped, got crashed into, stalled, got laughed at, prayed and ultimately navigated our way through throngs of traffic. A particularly tense moment came when surrounded by a group of laughing, camera waving Indians, Granny refused to start leading to a high risk but ultimately high reward push start in the middle of a very busy roundabout. A few minor scrapes and collisions later and both cars were tightly wedged in next to each other with some new exciting war wounds. Overall, part terrifying, mostly exhilarating it was certainly a wild ride and apologies to the drivers of Ahmedabad who now have blue and pink paint on their vehicles. 

After that adrenaline fuelled journey the team settled in for a quiet night of route planning with the aim of getting up early for the eagerly anticipated International Kite Festival for which we had driven to Ahmedabad especially for. Two constraints got in the way, one arguably more important in the grand scheme of things than the other. HKC became the first victim of the infamous "Delhi Belly" during the night which delayed the early morning getaway. However, the longer term hindrance was that on arriving at the riverfront later in the morning the team were welcomed by signs showing that the kite festival had actually finished the day before. Oops. Some nice views of empty stalls and a few lone kites were not what we'd hoped for especially since every mechanic in town (Granny is in dire need of maintenance) was shut for a state holiday which we had been told was for the kite festival. Thankfully, the rickshaws did get some much needed attention from one kind sir, who once again spoke of 'oil' and flow' and helped us buy 3 new spark plugs so fingers crossed we can get both rickshaws safely inland to the Ellora Caves - although perhaps we should simply hope to not crash into anyone else on the way out of Ahmedabad... 

Days 2-3 - When Boys Became Men

The 6am alarm. Enough to send anyone scrambling under the duvets desperately craving one more hour. However, given our concrete surroundings the team were immediately lively and keen to get back into the fresh air. Unfortunately it seems that our rickshaws aren't quite so sprightly in the morning, but after some pushing and shoving we eventually got them off to a rolling start and into the morning session. Big improvement on the first day with no breakdowns and the team were feeling chuffed as they pulled over for a spot of brekky. As it turns out, we'd accidentally gate crashed the preparations for a big ole Indian wedding leaving us all feeling suitably underdressed in Alibaba trousers and tee-shirts. Inevitably, the smooth progress could not continue and with Rockstar, HKC and PB engrossed in a game of categories (oxford colleges), they looked up to see Granny now an unknown distance behind Mr Mercury, but a quick retreat revealed her pulled up on the side of the road with not a drop of fuel in her tank. 

Another rolling start later and the team were once again breezing through the Indian countryside and just as breezily into the first really serious breakdown of the trip. With Granny once again pulled over limp on the side of the road, with her failing to restart after a cooling period and us confirming that her tank did indeed have petrol in it we had quickly exhausted our mechanical knowledge. Thankfully the imperiously friendly locals love nothing more than foreigners evidently struggling to start a rickshaw and we had quickly gathered a crowd to inspect the engine. The lead mechanic went through various technical procedures which largely involved pulling wires out, licking them, replacing them and asking us to pull the starting lever. 45 minutes in and with every wire freshly coated in saliva the solution still hadn't been found and thoughts drifted towards whether we could push Granny all the way to Kochi. Luckily Indians seem to have time to spare during the middle of the day and with a local taking a part from his own Rickshaw to help the cause we eventually got Granny fired up and back on the road. Opinions are divided as to what the problem was but it seemed to have something to do with oil and flow - needless to say we will be just as screwed the next time we break down. 

A quick poppadum pit stop later and we were into the sunset session, a real peachy one th  had cameras snapping away all over. As dusk approached and fears grew of another tricky nighttime search for a bed, we got wind from the locals of a resort a few km further down the track. As the last embers faded from the sky and the tarmacced road turned into a recurring series of potholes we finally cruised into the spa's drive with a new addition to the hit lost of broken parts in that Mr Mercury's speedometer broke leaving us with the grand total of 0 functioning speedometers. On the plus side, this was not just any spa, but a luxury little number complete with pool ready for an evening dip all for just £4.50 pp. Paul jumped in the pool and cunningly played down the fact that it was bloody freezing which left the girls less than impressed as they swiftly took the plunge and received a rather cold shock to the system. With sky TV in the room it initially seemed a big improvement on the concrete abode of the previous evening but PB was left unconvinced as it simply allowed him to weep himself to sleep whilst watching United lose to Southampton but all in all another spectacular day of adventure leaving us just 70km from Udaipur. 

Once we got the babies rolling the next morning, they were immediately put to the test - the ominous looking grey patch on google maps turned out to be an endless stretch of winding hills, a challenge to say the least for our underpowered and overly temperamental rickshaws. Despite the mountainous terrain, the pups soared (read spluttered and crawled) through the mountains with opportunity aplenty for some sunrise snaps with the selfie stick. Once in Udaipur there was no let up on tough driving conditions with HKC and Fi getting their first taste of inner city driving. Having built up confidence over the last two days, we were quickly reminded that driving in the cities is mental and a serious test of some fairly dubious clutches which led to some unfortunately placed stalls (on a roundabout, on a hill etc). Even more unfortunate was that our chosen home for the evening was right at the bottom of a very large hill which left us all wondering how our 7hp engines were going to cope the following morning. That was a problem for our future selves, however, and the team enjoyed an afternoon exploring the rather beautiful city, a lovely boat trip around the lake palace inevitably led Gee to proclaim Udaipur as the most recent instalment atop her list of favourite places so far. Either way, an enjoyable afternoon of not breaking down leaving everyone refreshed for a big stint to Ahmedabad the day after. 

Day one. Lessons learnt...

The first morning. Expectations high after a much needed rickshaw lesson the previous evening. And oh how the Granny and Mr. Mercury soared (one minor roundabout stall from Rockstar aside) out of Jaisalmer. Picture the scene as PB leads the charge in Granny and Rockstar is tucked in behind in Mr. Mercury, the open road ahead, Indian countryside flashing past as Granny pushes herself to the limit to reach 60km/h. Things were going so well. For 35 minutes. Then we all went back to school to learn a few hard and fast lessons about our Rickshaws. Lesson 1) Grannies should move slowly or else their engines will cut out causing her to breakdown in the middle of the road. Lesson 2) rickshaw brakes are Sh*t and therefore to avoid smashing into the back of each other, safe distances should probably be maintained in future. Still, 35 minutes before we crashed into each other isn't that bad and for all our parents no one was hurt so sleep easy. 

After a brief period to cool the engines and a nice new dent in Granny's rear bumper we were back up and running again. Unfortunately it seems PB isn't a very good student and ignoring Lesson 1, promptly pushing Granny to overtake Mr. Mercury and promptly ensuring the second break down of the morning as She overheated for the second time in the morning. Thankfully, Rockstar is a grade A student so at least we managed to avoid a second collision. Whilst many people dream of scoring a hat trick on debut, when you are a rickshaw and referencing breakdowns it is perhaps not so desirable but Granny managed to secure the unenviable feat by lunch leading everyone to learn Lesson 3) that with only 7 litres fuel in the tank and no fuel gauge it is actually pretty easy to run dry. Luckily, in a rare moment of preparedness, we did actually have jerry cans full of petrol meaning soon we were up and running and into our first of inevitably many lunches in random small towns.

Back on the open road again, legit Tarmac road for those wondering, we were making steady progress. Indeed steady enough that we took the liberty of stopping to watch a random tightrope performance being performed in yet another random village. As seems endemic of our trip, despite her grace we seemed to be the bigger attraction than her. Alas the smooth progress couldn't continue and it was Mr. Mercury's time to have a wobbly with a few engine splutters but he held strong thankfully. In general we breezed through the afternoon, the only issue being a minor incident with a policeman who pulled us over onto sand, only to sausage us and tell us to continue on? Lesson 4) rickshaws struggle to start in deep sand, they are not built for off roading. Having learnt this lesson however, just an hour or so later as Granny stopped for petrol, Gee ignored It, temporarily mistaking  Mr.Mercury for a dune buggy, veering off the hard shoulder and careering off onto a sandy track to avoid a roll. Subsequently we spent a further 15mins shifting him up the hill in sand to the road. All's well that ends well - we sped on through a truly delightful sunset and on into darkness...

Lesson 5) where possible do not drive in the dark when both rickshaws front headlights are broken. Indian traffic care little for dipping headlights and somehow traffic levels increased leading to the odd hairy moment. Still 70km short of Jodhpur, as expected, we desperately searched for a hotel for the night. Eventually with the help of a crowd of locals we uncovered what we're going to describe as a rather 'simple' place (make of that what you will). Paying about 80p each for the night, the saying 'you get what you pay for' has never rung more true with the 5 of us sleeping in a room that bore a striking resemblance to a concrete dungeon and about as much interior design as the inside of a cardboard box. Thankfully PB and Fi found some beers and snacks following a high risk motorbike ride and the team (minus a sleeping HKC) planned the route for the next day and waxed lyrical about why anyone would see India not through a rickshaw. 

Pimp My 'Shaw

Before starting the 'pimp' itself there was a lot of shopping to be done. Jerry cans, garlands, paints, mascots and more were all bargained for and we returned laden and armed for an art attack. Another friendly encounter in the market meant that we also came back with a private "driving" lesson booked for 5pm. 

Finally we got stuck in: 2 rickshaws. 5 minds abuzz with creative ideas. One Wannabe Westwood introducing the first ever episode of Pimp My Shaw. Fast forward 12 frantic hours and the team had stuck, painted, tied, transferred, traced and taped all sorts onto the 'shaws. 

Mr Mercury and Granny were complete. 

We'd like to take a moment to explain our name choices. In late 2014 Paul's grandmother passed away. Those of us lucky to have spent time with her knew her to be a truly cracking lady and she was fondly 'Granny' to all, irrespective of whether you were a family member. She is sorely missed by the Bennett family and RickinIt are happy she'll be joining us on this adventure. Meanwhile Mr Mercury aka Freddie Mercury acquired his name after much group debate and based on his moustache. Said moustache was not acquired through our own artistic talent but rather through a local artist, who like so many others was more than happy to help. We've yet to decide whether all the help we garnered was based off pity or generosity but either way we really needed and appreciated it.

A hiatus in the pimping was taken for the arranged lesson and PB and Fi were up first in Mr Mercury. Just an hour later the 'instructor' returned to pick the rest of the crew up and take Granny for a spin. Slight snag that PB had merrily forgotten to give us the keys to her. What would usually be a stumbling block to driving a vehicle was brushed aside by our instructor. By the time the girls had run upstairs to drop off bags and returned he had hot wired the 'shaw and done a Uie. The gals were impressed until the 'instructor' told us that 'No worries, all Indians can do this'. Perfect, 1 billion people skilled enough to steal our rickshaws and one fairly flimsy bike lock to lead the counter attack...

2 hours of training later, following a lot of stalling, questionable steering and a quick trip down the wrong side of a dual carriageway and we're totally ready to tackle the Indian roads. And by ready we obviously mean only 2 of 5 members have actually been able to start the rickshaws, and no one has mastered the emergency stop. Good. 

As of midnight before the big departure, you'll be please to know our current plan is 'Turn right out of the hostel, left at the main road and onwards to Jodhpur.'  We agree it might not seem like much but we have faith.

The day has come and off we go!

J - to - J

Firstly, apologies to those keen followers of the blog for the lack of blog posts over the past few days, we've been rather busy drinking chai and discussing what number we are on the Bristol stool scale (http://www.continence.org.au/pages/bristol-stool-chart.html)...

More to the point, following the majesty of the Taj, a particularly freezing night train to Jodhpur left certain cheapskates amongst us cursing our choice of the thin £1 blanket over the thicker £2 number. Mare. Freezing train aside, Jodhpur is actually a rather delightful little city. Firstly, it has a pretty impressive fort even by Indian standards. An added bonus of the fort is that there is a ziplining course which enabled Fi to pretend to be cultural whilst getting her inner Tarzan on. Secondly, Jodhpur is all blue which creates for a marvellous ambience and an absolutely stella sunset. Thirdly, the girls found a giant emporium which facilitated many new purchases and a small but significant boost to the Indian economy. Lastly, and perhaps most significantly, the people were absolutely wonderful. As Alice, HKC and PB went out for a spot of early morning exercise, they were joined by three charming young Indian men who later invited the group to lunch and threw out the potential invite to the big ol' Indian wedding a couple of years down the line. #reunion2k16. There was also a lovely chap who drove PB round town for 2 hours desperately searching for walkie talkies before discovering that they are in fact banned in Jodhpur. The bloke had played cricket against Brian Lara though so it wasn't a complete waste of time...

Next up was jaisalmer, aka the golden city, bordering Pakistan and with more camels than you could shake a stick at. Again, an impressively large fort, again ridiculously friendly people, again more shopping but Jaisalmer had the much anticipated offering of a camel safari into the desert. 2 hours, 10 sore groins and 87 photos later, we'd made it to camp for the night. The stars were beautiful and provided the perfect backdrop for excitable discussions about what we were going to do when we finally got our hands on the rickshaws the following day. To find out the results of said discussions and see photos of two quite frankly 'pimping' rickshaws please read the blog to follow shortly.

The Arrival Part 3: Ready to Rock India

Obviously everyone wants to hear about the glorious arrival of Rockstar, the fifth point of our star, the moment four became five, the coming together of the team. Unfortunately, however, RickinIt were slightly less excited for her arrival than the fans back home and ended up missing her arrival to enjoy a long liquid lunch with a view of the Taj (#beerwithaview). Thankfully Rockstar is a great gal and soon the  completed team had set off to the markets in the desperate hope of finally finding Gee some travelling trousers. As the search entered it's fourth day and with #findthetrousers trending globally the team were praying today was finally the day. Alas, it wasn't to be as our rickshaw driver took us to a bazaar mainly consisting of large electrical goods and blankets so the search continued. Our driving skills were put further to the test as our licence-less lass HKC got her chance behind the handlebars on the way to the bazaar. She is still a little confused over how they work as her instructor stalled twice when demonstrating but at this stage every little helps!

In brighter news, Alice tried on some saris and looked absolutely fabulous as you can see. It should be noted that Alice didn't dress so classily for the rest of the night and was rocking a sizzling grey on grey track suit combination that would have made many a Sunday League football manager proud. After a surprisingly nice location for dinner which included four waiters in full livery serving us for the grand total of £4 a person we settled in for the start of our route planning. This invited many a bemused look from fellow travellers and strong interrogations into why we would choose to invite such perils onto ourselves. We also confirmed that it is quite far from Jaisalmer to Kochi and that we actually know very little about how rickshaws work. More positively, the lush hostel we are staying at called Zostel potentially agreed to promote us in further confirmation that we are becoming the hot new Rickshaw team on the block.

Day 7 and what a barnstormer. We can confirm after reviewing the c.400 photos we took at the Taj Mahal that it is an exceptionally beautiful building and perfectly symmetrical. Garnering plenty of attention in our matching uniforms and bandannas being led by a toothless, camera wielding 62 year old, RickinIt proved prime targets for local tourists and once again had our celebrity smiles on. PB is sure to be updating his Facebook cover photo soon, to him and his hareem of (lovely) women. Unfortunately for our more party orientated followers RickinIt thought the Taj was a disappointment for its club potential - (for our Oxford readers) sort of a Tuesday night Camera situation of doing a couple of sweaty laps round the outside and wondering why on earth they don't use the middle. Further disappointment ensued for Gee on finding out that no one actually lived in the Taj (unless you count dead people...). Next, following a lengthy session procuring Indians finest gems and stones from a lovely local jeweller, potentially the biggest news of the day ensued in that #findthetrousers finally stopped trending as Gee purchased a lovely pair of Alibaba trousers with elephants. Gee thanks the fans for their patience and support during this difficult time for her. One trip to the mini Taj Mahal, a stunning sunset over the actual Taj and a night train to Jodphur followed - only a few more sleeps until we start driving!

Lassi in Varanasi

To justify the title of the blog, HKC had one rather delicious mango lassi Friday lunchtime and that was about it for lassis in Varanasi. We had a lovely lunch in a rooftop restaurant (recommended in Lonely Planet as a spenny choice, $$$, but, in reality, a steal at £4). RickinIt admired a plethora of flying kites and patted themselves on the back for having read 'The Kite Runner' - very cultured. 

After lunch, we took a stroll along the ganges, admiring the Ghats of Varanasi. In the Hindu faith, Varanasi is believed to be a spiritual place to die since expiring here offers moksha (freedom from the cycle of life and death). A wonderful man explained the various steps of cremation which uses holy fire, otherwise known as the eternal flame (cue high pitched renditions of atomic kitten) to burn the bodies alongside the ghats before putting their ashes into the Ganges. There are 6 exceptions to those who are cremated before being laid to rest in the water, including babies and lepers, whose bodies are placed straight into the river without being burnt. While most of the RickinIt team were intent on asking relevant questions surrounding the ceremony and holy rituals, Gee was more interested in asking why all of the goats were wearing wooly jumpers (and even one in what looked like sub fusc). After this bout of intelligence, we thought it best to leave the cremations and found ourselves in a silk emporium with hundreds of pashminas thrown our way - of course, we felt unable to refuse when the charming salesman started reciting classic Delboy and Rodney catchphrases. Entertaining to say the least. 

In the evening we wound our way back down to the river to watch a gangna aarti- a hugely spiritual hindu ritual which, as far as we could understand, involved priests twirling gradually larger and larger burning objects around, whilst continually dinging bells. Paul was left somewhat disappointed by the grand finale of what looked like feather dusters being waved energetically, having hoped for a fantastic, fiery end to the ceremony. After an hour of this, we attempted to fight our way home through Varanasi rush hour, though we seemed to have a slight failure in our sense of direction and got quite lost. Rickshaw to the rescue (this will hopefully become a theme throughout the trip) and we made it back to our hostel. 

Saturday morning began with a 4.45am wake-up call before what could have been a beautiful sunrise boat ride along the Ganges. Sadly, intense fog prevented any sort of sunrise and I'm not sure that the swarms of bathing men in (almost see through) white y-fronts could constitute beautiful. After a good nap (on the boat for HKC, and once back at Stops hostel for the rest of the team) we hunkered down for another few rounds of yanniv. The game ended in tears on PB's behalf when Gee whipped out a pair of aces and did an extremely tasteful victory lap. The

relationships within the group were swiftly rekindled when we took a cooking lesson and lived out Fi's lifelong dream of getting to cook Chapatis. Everyone knows the best part about cooking is eating and we tucked into a delightful feast of Indian cuisine (mmmmmm), HKC and Gee making sure to dodge any stray chillies.

On a smellier note, due to hot water shortages (read as: none) and very cold weather, between the four of us there have been only 2 showers in 2015, and one team member (mentioning no names) has only one pair of dirty underwear in their laundry bag so far. We'll leave the maths to our lovely readers to figure out how far short of social norms we are currently falling in the hygiene stakes. Here's hoping that we all get a good wash in Agra, our next destination...

The making of a chapati 

Poo Poo in the Loo Loo on the Choo Choo

After a stonkingly good first few days in Delhi it was time to attempt our first navigation of the Indian train system. Things got off to a nervy start as we couldn't find our seats, and ended up thrusting our ticket into several bewildered Indian men's faces. Thankfully as departure time beckoned, we realised that carriages S1 and SE1 were in fact different before the mild panic escalated into a full blown case of the wahhhs.

As seems to be becoming a common theme, we are seemingly a popular local attraction and had soon attracted a right band of merrymen who crowded into the booth. First was a guard with a f*ck off large AK47 - weren't in too much of a hurry to tell him to boot it. The next interesting chap was some chancer who emerged from the pack to attempt to show us truly awful magic tricks. Our typically British fake smiles encouraged him to continue to try and engage us in some equally tragic card game. Confused by the game's simplicity: 3 cards each, turn and show them all and wait for him to proclaim the winner at random, led to Gee being the winner. Her prize - kiss the Indian man - again a seemingly common theme. The cheeky fella then suggested we put money on the game and just as we were about to dig deep for our rupees he was promptly chased away by the same AK47 wielding guard. Who knows what became of India's answer to Derren Brown...



Thankfully, as the time came for all good travellers to curl up on tiny, hard beds (PB struggled), the crowd seemed to disperse and we thought we were in for a clear night. However, as all good kids know, you should go to the loo pre bed to avoid midnight mishaps and PB decided to brave the toilet. The only rule of the train loo: do not use whilst the train has stopped due to it's squat'n'drop nature. Apparently sh*tting on the tracks across the breadth of India is acceptable, just don't do it on the station tracks. Unfortunately moving trains mean moving bodies and on arrival to the hole in the ground, PB had the joy of finding a fresh steaming turd waiting as a not-so-little 'welcome to India' present. Nevertheless, after PBs successful navigation of the turd, it was the turn of the girls and we discovered that Gee has clearly been skipping leg day recently and required the generous hand of HKC to avoid an unfortunate squat'n'drop accident. Just remember, every day is leg day on the night trains of India.



Bladders emptied and all safely tucked in, it seemed we had avoided the dreaded bed share sitch we'd heard of so many times, until HKCs ankle proved just too irresistible for one local man, giving the poor girl quite the fright as she had the shock of contending for space with a bed buddy at 4 in the morning. Wild gesticulation on all parts resolved the situation and in no time at all we'd arrived in Varanasi, spiritual home of Hinduism.

The Arrival : Part 2 The Return of the King

On time, no queues in immigration, no spur of the moment flights booked. Like all sequels, dull and unforgettable, adequate words to mark the arrival of Fiona on the eve of the 30th. Hellie had in fact already managed to fall asleep. Nonetheless, the fact that Fiona was feeling 22(ooh) meant that partying was obligatory and we headed off to the local watering hole Hauz Khas Village to meet up with Fi's friends from earlier in her gap yah. Drinks were drunk, jokes were shared and just as 4 white friends rapped along to Eminem during karaoke we discovered that Delhi nightlife calls it quits about 1230. Big night.

First proper day in India and naturally we took in a couple of temples. Not so naturally we got picked up by one of Fi's Indian mates (top gal) in a white rangey (range rover for the non gangsters) and headed off to her gold clad palace for some cracking cuisine and fine furniture. Probably a stark contrast to 9 days time when we will be knee deep in oil and grime. Not just swanning round Delhi, rickshaw preparations have begun after Fiona undertook an impromptu rickshaw lesson and the good news is at least one of us now knows how to change gears. Also interestingly, we discovered that stopping in the middle of a 5 lane motorway is the perfect chance to begin such an impromptu lesson...good to know.




After a delightful day in Delhi, it was of course NYE. Tbh the less said the better. Plenty of rickshaw experience though as 3 unsuccessful rides later we still hadn't found anywhere with fireworks. 2015 thus rolled around with us draped in shawls roaming the Indian streets, acting out firework impressions to policemen in a vain attempt to see the new year in with a bang. Alas, our efforts were futile and we retired to our hostel for a quarter of a beer each and some rounds of heads up.


Whilst 95% of the world will have awoken on New Year's Day, hungover, with kebab in their hair and the overwhelming feeling of drunken shame, we awoke fresh from a 9 hour sleep, ready for our last day in Delhi . Fi headed off to go and visit her host family she had previously stayed with in India , whilst the rest of us went to the Red Fort. The Red Fort, once a giant palace resplendent in gold, marble and silver, also housed a 180 carat diamond that was then stolen in a Persian raid and ended up on Queen Victoria. RickinIt are planning a trip to see the Crown Jewels once back in London.