08/04/08
Yesterday was somewhat eventful. After squeezing every last thing back into my rucksack I headed off for the airport. As my turn came to check in I started to feel rising panic as the man behind the counter thumbed his way through my passport, stopped, stared and tutted. "Madam, do you realise that you need an Indian visa to enable you to make your transfers?". I spluttered back at him that I had been informed that I didn't, but it was to no avail. One month ago I had contacted my organisation to ask about transit visas and was told that I didn't need one. I was hopping mad! I was left with two options, neither of which enabled me to catch my flights. I could either go and spend hours at the notoriously slow Indian embassy and then try and change my flights or book a completely new flight that avoided the visa problem altogether. I opted for the second and landed myself a flight via Bangkok with Thai airways (preferable to Jetlite or Jetshite as I've re-named them!).
So today was like ground hog day as I once again went to the airport. As an afterthought I realised that flying a day late meant my Nepalese visa had also expired. I told my sob story to the sympathetic immigration officer and dropped in that I was volunteering and he let me off. Thai airways was deluxe with free drinks, mini pillows and real orchids in the loo - not bad eh! They should, however, have censored their complimentary newspaper as the front page read, "High danger: Qatar Airways plane has both engines fail 6 km above the earth"! Not exactly relaxing reading so I turned over to, "Men soon to become redundant as scientists develop artificial sperm"..... god help us.... I gave up on world news and looked out of the window instead!
Bangkok airport is space age and immaculately clean. Huge stainless steel arcs form the roof and there are windows everywhere reflecting people scurrying around busy on their own adventures. I like people watching. I see business men/women with their smart suits and whirring wheelie suitcases, briskly clip clopping along and wonder what it must feel like to be so professional and poised. Even if I had the right attire I don't think I'd carry it off - I'd break a heel or a wheel would come off my suitcase and I'd end up head first down the escalator! There are lots of people like me, fresh from Nepal, clomping around in their walking boots.
I arrived at Colombo airport at midnight and finally made my way to the exit by 1am to find no sign of the person that should have been meeting me. When I did track him down he cheerfully tells me that there was a board with my name on (under his desk!) and he misread my arrival time as 2am. My taxi driver was lovely but not particularly well suited to the job as he had to stop three times to ask for directions and was crawling along the road so slowly that the police pulled us over for suspicious behaviour! I eventually made it to the hotel and never have been so glad to sink into bed.
Tuesday, 15 April 2008
Monday, 7 April 2008
MSPN
MSPN is the organisation which I have been placed with in Patan. It is a charity which supports children (usually under the age of ten) who have HIV. Up to 16 children live at the home along with a parent or relative. Here they receive medication, nutritionally balanced meals, get taken to regular hospital check-ups, all free of charge. They stay as long as need be to ensure that their condition has improved and stabilised as far as possible (normally several months), and receive follow-up once discharged home. Almost all of the children have other illnesses alongside HIV, normally Hepatitis and Tuberculosis, so their little bodies are really struggling. The difference in them from when they arrive to when they leave is astounding. Some were extremely malnourished and as soon as they put weight on you would hardly recognise them as the same children. It's lovely to see them grow more confident and cheeky as time goes by. When they are feeling better it's easy to forget that they have HIV. Because of this it came as a shock when one of the little babies suddenly died after contracting pneumonia. His mother was only 18 and his father already dead. She was at the home the day after it happened. I've never seen someone look so full of despair. Her baby was the one spark of light in a life already so full of shadows. It was heart-breaking to see her.
Thursday, 3 April 2008
Gone trekking!
I'm just back after trekking to Annapurna base camp which sits at 4130m. Some nutters do the round trip in 7 days but we (me and my housemate Britta) did it in 12 and still felt like we busted a gut! Escaping to the mountains was just heaven after 3 months of producing black snot as a result of the fumes and dust of Kathmandu. Travelling to Pokhara to get near to the start of our trek was some what eventful. It went something like this. Day 1: left trekking permit behind - retrieved it, lost purse - found it in the bin, walked to wrong bus station, got bus to what we thought was the right one but wasn't, finally got a random bus that took 2 hours to fill, crashed into truck, our driver and the truck driver had a fight, arrived after 7 hours, hotel fully booked, replacement hotel has a family of 5 cockroaches. Day 2: got up and one of only two T-shirts that I packed got crapped on by a bird (lucky..I don't think so), the 3rd member of our walking party deserts us, Britta decides to give up smoking and I offer to give up drinking for the trek to offer moral support (too late to leave that day so evening spent smoking/drinking!).
Day 3: the trip got off to a cracking start when we got lost on route to the bus station....it didn't bode well! However luck was on our side and we bumped into the nicest man who happened to be going the same way. The bus was rammed so we were ushered up onto the luggage rack on the roof with 9 others and everything else you could possibly imagine. We hurtled along the road, ducking the overhead electric cables, 360 degree views...it was great, a bit like surfing just replace the board with a bus! Just to spice it up a little 5 minutes into the journey a thunderstorm broke right over us and soaked us to the skin. We hopped off at Phedi (the village at the start of the trek) to be faced with a brutal uphill slog which made us seriously doubt our decision to carry our own bags (13kg). Still, we soon got into the swing of things and got a steady plod going. Along the way we stayed at basic lodges which were great, especially when it got colder as we ate around one huge communal table which had a heater beneath. The table had blankets all around to keep the heat from escaping, so you'd stick you feet under and get nice and toasty. The scenery was so varied and beautiful - not one day was the same. We initially walked through farmland, steeply terraced paddy fields, neatly domed haystacks and wood stores. Then came forests of birch and lastly rhododendrons in full bloom - the mountainside carpeted in deep scarlet red and vivid pink. The old, gnarled tree branches were draped in mosses and orchids. Nature has found its own way to combat stinky trekkers by producing jasmine by the bucket load - the air was heady with the scent of it. Each day followed a similar pattern - we would wake up to a glorious hot sunny day, by lunchtime the clouds would have started building and by mid-afternoon a huge thunderstorm would rock the valley. I was left speechless as I walked through the snow, sheer rock faces and icicles towering overhead, the swirling mist offering tantalising glimpses of craggy mountain tops seemingly brushing the sky, and all to a soundtrack of thunder booming....it was amazing. Every now and then we would hear the sound of rocks bouncing their way down hundreds of feet as the ice thawed in the sun. The area is prone to avalanches, a fact that was made more real when we saw one speeding down a distant slope. We spent one night at Annapurna base camp which meant that we were able to see the sun rise behind Macchapuchhre (the fish tail mountain), its rays setting the tops of the Annapurna range ablaze with gold - it was absolutely breathtaking. We were so lucky, we couldn't have asked for a clearer day. It was so cold that I had to spend 3 days with my camera down my top just to keep the battery working! Thankfully it held out and I got some great shots, which will have to be posted at a future date (attempted uploading one and an hour later it still hadn't happened!). We took a little detour via Ghorepani as we descended (so we could go up Poon hill at 4.30am to see the sunrise over the Himalaya) and ended up at Birethanti, our final destination after 12 hours of knee-breaking downhill steps. We arrived just in the nick of time - the mother of all thunderstorms raged for the next two hours whilst I was savouring a much needed beer.
Day 3: the trip got off to a cracking start when we got lost on route to the bus station....it didn't bode well! However luck was on our side and we bumped into the nicest man who happened to be going the same way. The bus was rammed so we were ushered up onto the luggage rack on the roof with 9 others and everything else you could possibly imagine. We hurtled along the road, ducking the overhead electric cables, 360 degree views...it was great, a bit like surfing just replace the board with a bus! Just to spice it up a little 5 minutes into the journey a thunderstorm broke right over us and soaked us to the skin. We hopped off at Phedi (the village at the start of the trek) to be faced with a brutal uphill slog which made us seriously doubt our decision to carry our own bags (13kg). Still, we soon got into the swing of things and got a steady plod going. Along the way we stayed at basic lodges which were great, especially when it got colder as we ate around one huge communal table which had a heater beneath. The table had blankets all around to keep the heat from escaping, so you'd stick you feet under and get nice and toasty. The scenery was so varied and beautiful - not one day was the same. We initially walked through farmland, steeply terraced paddy fields, neatly domed haystacks and wood stores. Then came forests of birch and lastly rhododendrons in full bloom - the mountainside carpeted in deep scarlet red and vivid pink. The old, gnarled tree branches were draped in mosses and orchids. Nature has found its own way to combat stinky trekkers by producing jasmine by the bucket load - the air was heady with the scent of it. Each day followed a similar pattern - we would wake up to a glorious hot sunny day, by lunchtime the clouds would have started building and by mid-afternoon a huge thunderstorm would rock the valley. I was left speechless as I walked through the snow, sheer rock faces and icicles towering overhead, the swirling mist offering tantalising glimpses of craggy mountain tops seemingly brushing the sky, and all to a soundtrack of thunder booming....it was amazing. Every now and then we would hear the sound of rocks bouncing their way down hundreds of feet as the ice thawed in the sun. The area is prone to avalanches, a fact that was made more real when we saw one speeding down a distant slope. We spent one night at Annapurna base camp which meant that we were able to see the sun rise behind Macchapuchhre (the fish tail mountain), its rays setting the tops of the Annapurna range ablaze with gold - it was absolutely breathtaking. We were so lucky, we couldn't have asked for a clearer day. It was so cold that I had to spend 3 days with my camera down my top just to keep the battery working! Thankfully it held out and I got some great shots, which will have to be posted at a future date (attempted uploading one and an hour later it still hadn't happened!). We took a little detour via Ghorepani as we descended (so we could go up Poon hill at 4.30am to see the sunrise over the Himalaya) and ended up at Birethanti, our final destination after 12 hours of knee-breaking downhill steps. We arrived just in the nick of time - the mother of all thunderstorms raged for the next two hours whilst I was savouring a much needed beer.
Wednesday, 12 March 2008
Life in Patan
If you walk south from Kathmandu you reach Patan, the second largest city in the valley and my home for three months. The holy Bagamati river trickles sluggishly between them, clogged with rubbish and emitting a powerful stench of raw sewerage. Children pick their way barefooted across it, seeking out anything that might be recycled. Canvas shelters are home for many that live on the river banks. I am am extremely fortunate to be living in a modern house with five other volunteers (Rod 67, Edward 29, Britta 25, Matthew 19 and Sarah 17). On the roof I hang my washing out to a chorus of high pitched "hellos" from the neighbours children. From here I have a fantastic view of the valley stretching away to the distant mountains and the sun setting behind the hills opposite.
The winter chill has now abated and gone are the nights of sleeping in pyjamas, fleece, hat, sleeping bag, duvet with a hot water bottle to top it off! Getting to sleep can be challenging as Kathmandu has a huge dog population with nocturnal tendencies. When one howls the whole valley starts up and in the wee small hours I long for a shot gun!
Recent disturbances in the Terai (the low-level plains) have had a knock-on effect on life here. Road blocks and violence have prevented fuel tankers from heading North from India. Queues at the petrol stations have been hundreds of cars long and people have been patiently waiting for as long as 36 hours before getting served. Our water supply is not piped but delivered by tankers and of course no fuel equals no water. We've just had ten days without.....thank god for baby wipes! Nepal, despite great potential for hydroelectric power, is almost completely dependant on India for its electricity. Demand outstrips supply so there are daily planned power cuts known as "load-shedding". A couple of weeks ago things were pretty dire with twelve hours of power cuts a day. Still, there's something rather nice about having candle-lit meals and we always have good conversations around the table. The people I live with are a great bunch and we all get along well. We did have some problems for the first month with a very depressed, French, seventy year old lady who spoke very limited English and was rather partial to 1.5litre bottles of whisky. She wasn't well and quickly developed bronchitis, but was as stubborn as a mule and refused to go to the Doctors. I eventually forced her but just as one problem was solved another appeared. She continually fell and finally admitted defeat after badly knocking her knee. She is now, hopefully, safely back in France.
The winter chill has now abated and gone are the nights of sleeping in pyjamas, fleece, hat, sleeping bag, duvet with a hot water bottle to top it off! Getting to sleep can be challenging as Kathmandu has a huge dog population with nocturnal tendencies. When one howls the whole valley starts up and in the wee small hours I long for a shot gun!
Recent disturbances in the Terai (the low-level plains) have had a knock-on effect on life here. Road blocks and violence have prevented fuel tankers from heading North from India. Queues at the petrol stations have been hundreds of cars long and people have been patiently waiting for as long as 36 hours before getting served. Our water supply is not piped but delivered by tankers and of course no fuel equals no water. We've just had ten days without.....thank god for baby wipes! Nepal, despite great potential for hydroelectric power, is almost completely dependant on India for its electricity. Demand outstrips supply so there are daily planned power cuts known as "load-shedding". A couple of weeks ago things were pretty dire with twelve hours of power cuts a day. Still, there's something rather nice about having candle-lit meals and we always have good conversations around the table. The people I live with are a great bunch and we all get along well. We did have some problems for the first month with a very depressed, French, seventy year old lady who spoke very limited English and was rather partial to 1.5litre bottles of whisky. She wasn't well and quickly developed bronchitis, but was as stubborn as a mule and refused to go to the Doctors. I eventually forced her but just as one problem was solved another appeared. She continually fell and finally admitted defeat after badly knocking her knee. She is now, hopefully, safely back in France.
Friday, 22 February 2008
Next stop Nepal
The flight from Delhi to Kathmandu was short but spectacular. I spent the entire time with my nose pressed up against the glass, gazing at the jagged snowy peaks in the distance. Far below the hillsides were sculpted into hundreds of terraces that looked like the ridges of wave worn sand. Kathmandu soon loomed between the hills, a sprawling mass confined within steep valley sides. Smog replaced the clear mountain air.
India and Nepal may be neighbours but in some ways they are worlds apart. Kathmandu airport was small and quiet and getting a visa remarkably simple. I was preparing myself for hassle when I stepped foot outside, but despite my taxi not being there to meet me there was no trouble and I quickly headed into the city. Kathmandu is a strange fusion of old and new. Some parts are very touristy and western but then you can walk down a back alley and it's like stepping back in time. Tall buildings lean in over head and blot out the light.
Nepal, in a back to front way, has been hard to adjust to. Before I arrived I anticipated that it would more deprived than much of India. However, in some parts of Kathmandu I find the choice of loo rolls and shampoo overwhelming! Alcohol doesn't appear to be taboo here although I struggle to spend the equivalent amount of rupees on a beer that would buy me a room for the night (my willpower is improving!). Thamel, the tourist hub of Kathmandu, is noisy and chaotic. Street vendors fill every inch and you can't take two steps without having miniature violins, hashish or tiger balm thrust in your face. There's an abundance of Westerners "finding themselves" with the aid of some newly acquired wacky clothes and several large joints! When I first arrived I found myself really gawping a white people, it seemed so odd not to be the only one. Kathmandu can give a misleading impression of Nepal, one that soon disintegrates as you drive into the countryside where a contrasting picture emerges. Every available stretch of hillside is covered with row upon row of terraces. Small clusters of simple houses cling to the steep slopes and snowy mountains occasionally appear through the clouds. Roads follow the rivers as they carve steep ravines through the mountainside. The water transforms into a raging blue/green torrent, no longer choked by the rubbish and sewerage of the city. Buses and trucks regularly tumble off the roads, the holes in the barriers serving as eerie reminders of the dozens of people who lose their lives each day.
India and Nepal may be neighbours but in some ways they are worlds apart. Kathmandu airport was small and quiet and getting a visa remarkably simple. I was preparing myself for hassle when I stepped foot outside, but despite my taxi not being there to meet me there was no trouble and I quickly headed into the city. Kathmandu is a strange fusion of old and new. Some parts are very touristy and western but then you can walk down a back alley and it's like stepping back in time. Tall buildings lean in over head and blot out the light.
Nepal, in a back to front way, has been hard to adjust to. Before I arrived I anticipated that it would more deprived than much of India. However, in some parts of Kathmandu I find the choice of loo rolls and shampoo overwhelming! Alcohol doesn't appear to be taboo here although I struggle to spend the equivalent amount of rupees on a beer that would buy me a room for the night (my willpower is improving!). Thamel, the tourist hub of Kathmandu, is noisy and chaotic. Street vendors fill every inch and you can't take two steps without having miniature violins, hashish or tiger balm thrust in your face. There's an abundance of Westerners "finding themselves" with the aid of some newly acquired wacky clothes and several large joints! When I first arrived I found myself really gawping a white people, it seemed so odd not to be the only one. Kathmandu can give a misleading impression of Nepal, one that soon disintegrates as you drive into the countryside where a contrasting picture emerges. Every available stretch of hillside is covered with row upon row of terraces. Small clusters of simple houses cling to the steep slopes and snowy mountains occasionally appear through the clouds. Roads follow the rivers as they carve steep ravines through the mountainside. The water transforms into a raging blue/green torrent, no longer choked by the rubbish and sewerage of the city. Buses and trucks regularly tumble off the roads, the holes in the barriers serving as eerie reminders of the dozens of people who lose their lives each day.
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
Back to Delhi
7-8/01/08
I was dreading my night train back to Delhi after my previous experience. This time I found my carriage to be nearly empty so I started to relax....but not for long! I seem to have the uncanny ability to attract wankers (in the most literal sense!) and five minutes into the journey along came wanker number two. This time I felt it was best that I made a scene as I really did not want to be sharing a deserted carriage with a pervert. I shouted at him to stop it which he did, but he then went for the "hands-free" option of rubbing himself up against the chair. I had had enough and screamed at him to get out of the carriage and tried to get another man in the carriage to support me (sadly a lot of people prefered to turn a blind eye when I was getting hassled). Amazingly my raving lunatic impression worked and he left. I lay awake for a long time worried he might return, but he didn't thank god.
Whilst I was on the train I decided that I wasn't going to spend another night in the grim hotel in Delhi and instead would stay with the Japenese interpreter (I met going to Agra) who had offered to put me up. I know it probably sounds extremely unwise but for me it was a matter of weighing up which option carried more risk and I actually felt that I would be safer staying with a stranger's family. Needless to say it turned out to be an interesting experience! His family were very nice and welcoming and his wife was an excellent cook. I took a much needed hot bucket bath - only the second time I had washed in hot water since reaching India. Then I was introduced to their 30 year old son who took me on a slightly too exciting high speed tour of Delhi. I soon realised he had a drink problem and of course drink-driving isn't an issue in India where you can bribe the police for pretty much anything. We arrived back at the house in one piece but I gathered along the way that the son was looking for a nice white wife and apparently I had come recommended by his Dad!! I spent the rest of the evening on the roof terrace around a fire setting him straight on a few points - "no, I was not going to marry him under any circumstances", "no, white women are not all the same", "no, we do not all go around having one night stands"! Once he realised that he'd have more luck chatting up a nun he dropped his macho act. It turned out that he was really depressed, his arranged marriage had failed and his pregnant 18 year old wife had left him. Alongside this he had his Dad pressurising him that he should quickly re-marry. So it was an evening spent counselling!
I was dreading my night train back to Delhi after my previous experience. This time I found my carriage to be nearly empty so I started to relax....but not for long! I seem to have the uncanny ability to attract wankers (in the most literal sense!) and five minutes into the journey along came wanker number two. This time I felt it was best that I made a scene as I really did not want to be sharing a deserted carriage with a pervert. I shouted at him to stop it which he did, but he then went for the "hands-free" option of rubbing himself up against the chair. I had had enough and screamed at him to get out of the carriage and tried to get another man in the carriage to support me (sadly a lot of people prefered to turn a blind eye when I was getting hassled). Amazingly my raving lunatic impression worked and he left. I lay awake for a long time worried he might return, but he didn't thank god.
Whilst I was on the train I decided that I wasn't going to spend another night in the grim hotel in Delhi and instead would stay with the Japenese interpreter (I met going to Agra) who had offered to put me up. I know it probably sounds extremely unwise but for me it was a matter of weighing up which option carried more risk and I actually felt that I would be safer staying with a stranger's family. Needless to say it turned out to be an interesting experience! His family were very nice and welcoming and his wife was an excellent cook. I took a much needed hot bucket bath - only the second time I had washed in hot water since reaching India. Then I was introduced to their 30 year old son who took me on a slightly too exciting high speed tour of Delhi. I soon realised he had a drink problem and of course drink-driving isn't an issue in India where you can bribe the police for pretty much anything. We arrived back at the house in one piece but I gathered along the way that the son was looking for a nice white wife and apparently I had come recommended by his Dad!! I spent the rest of the evening on the roof terrace around a fire setting him straight on a few points - "no, I was not going to marry him under any circumstances", "no, white women are not all the same", "no, we do not all go around having one night stands"! Once he realised that he'd have more luck chatting up a nun he dropped his macho act. It turned out that he was really depressed, his arranged marriage had failed and his pregnant 18 year old wife had left him. Alongside this he had his Dad pressurising him that he should quickly re-marry. So it was an evening spent counselling!
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Khuri
4 - 6/01/08
After two heavenly days of relaxation in Bundi I set off on the bus to the nearby town of Kota. Here I caught the train to Jaipur, five hours away. I had my first taste of Guava (aka custard apple) courtesy of the lovely family I was sat next to. It was a day of firsts as I also enjoyed my first bicycle rickshaw ride (much more sedate but no less scary than the auto-rickshaws!) and saw my first camel, plodding down the chaotic main road like it was the most normal thing in the world! Jaipur wasn't really anything to write home about - very big, very loud, very dusty and certainly not the pink city that all the guidebooks romantically describe. After sunset I spent seven long hours at the station waiting for my train which was due at midnight but rolled in at 1am. I discovered a family of eight rats in the toilet so squatted from an impressive height and then crossed my legs for the rest of the evening. The staring at the station was particularly bad - men gawping everywhere I turned. In the end I completely covered my head with my scarf so no-one could see I was white. A massive crowd had formed by the time the train pulled in and it moved like a herd of stampeding buffalo. In the pandemonium I ran to the wrong end of the train. In England this would not be a problem but in India there are thirty-something carriages - it's a long long way. Lots of men groped me as I pushed past and then got a second chance when I had to run by once more. The unreserved carriages (which you don't touch with a barge pole unless you've (a) lost your money or (b) lost your mind) were already so full that the passengers inside were refusing to open the doors. This lead to mobs of angry men hammering on the windows and then forcing their way into the sleeper class carriages instead. When I finally got on the train it was so full I could hardly push my way down to my reserved "bunk". When I did get there I found it came complete with three louts who were very reluctant to move. I then had an audience of seven men watch me get into my sleeping bag, all getting kicks out of being suggestive. I tried to block them out of my mind but then glanced to the bunk opposite to see my neighbour wanking whilst ogling me. I have never felt so terrified in all of my life. My only reassurance was the young Korean tourist who was nearby - he looked equally as scared and he regularly shot me sympathetic looks. By 4am the gang appeared to have dispersed, I was so relieved as I was busting for a pee but didn't dare move earlier. My relief was short-lived as the all the men had just relocated to around the toilet. I endured five long minutes waiting whilst getting hands stuck between my legs and everywhere else you can imagine. I was so hard to know what to do in defence - making a fuss would have been dangerous in this particular situation as I was so outnumbered I knew it could have quickly turned much worse. Even the conductor who had past through earlier didn't kick them off the train despite the lack of tickets.
The dawn brought views of sand dunes and a fine coating of sand coated everything in the train. Most of the men had gone but one was remaining who I had noticed had kept himself separate through the trouble the previous night. I had an interesting discussion with him about Indian men's views of western women. Apparently all the men were from the army and were letting off steam...huh! But he respected my opinions. I still don't understand why so many men have such fixed opinions about white women. There's no logic to it as there were Indian women wearing tight western clothes but they weren't getting the same disrespectful treatment that I received.
When I arrived in Jaisalmer I took the local bus (sacks of rice beneath my feet, small child on one knee, someones shopping on the other!) to Khuri, a small desert village two hours due south. I stayed with a really lovely family and slept in my own little thatched mud hut. It was so special and peaceful - a real tonic after the stresses of the previous days. The food was cooked over the fire and was absolutely delicious. The husband was a gentle, fascinating person who took great pleasure from leading a simple life. The next day I headed off on a camel into the desert with some American students to spend a night on the dunes sleeping under the star-studded sky (camel travel is as painful as everyone says!). We passed lots of traditional mud houses so smooth they looked as though they could have been molded from plasticine. The landscape and experience was amazing and nasty memories soon replaced by great ones.
After two heavenly days of relaxation in Bundi I set off on the bus to the nearby town of Kota. Here I caught the train to Jaipur, five hours away. I had my first taste of Guava (aka custard apple) courtesy of the lovely family I was sat next to. It was a day of firsts as I also enjoyed my first bicycle rickshaw ride (much more sedate but no less scary than the auto-rickshaws!) and saw my first camel, plodding down the chaotic main road like it was the most normal thing in the world! Jaipur wasn't really anything to write home about - very big, very loud, very dusty and certainly not the pink city that all the guidebooks romantically describe. After sunset I spent seven long hours at the station waiting for my train which was due at midnight but rolled in at 1am. I discovered a family of eight rats in the toilet so squatted from an impressive height and then crossed my legs for the rest of the evening. The staring at the station was particularly bad - men gawping everywhere I turned. In the end I completely covered my head with my scarf so no-one could see I was white. A massive crowd had formed by the time the train pulled in and it moved like a herd of stampeding buffalo. In the pandemonium I ran to the wrong end of the train. In England this would not be a problem but in India there are thirty-something carriages - it's a long long way. Lots of men groped me as I pushed past and then got a second chance when I had to run by once more. The unreserved carriages (which you don't touch with a barge pole unless you've (a) lost your money or (b) lost your mind) were already so full that the passengers inside were refusing to open the doors. This lead to mobs of angry men hammering on the windows and then forcing their way into the sleeper class carriages instead. When I finally got on the train it was so full I could hardly push my way down to my reserved "bunk". When I did get there I found it came complete with three louts who were very reluctant to move. I then had an audience of seven men watch me get into my sleeping bag, all getting kicks out of being suggestive. I tried to block them out of my mind but then glanced to the bunk opposite to see my neighbour wanking whilst ogling me. I have never felt so terrified in all of my life. My only reassurance was the young Korean tourist who was nearby - he looked equally as scared and he regularly shot me sympathetic looks. By 4am the gang appeared to have dispersed, I was so relieved as I was busting for a pee but didn't dare move earlier. My relief was short-lived as the all the men had just relocated to around the toilet. I endured five long minutes waiting whilst getting hands stuck between my legs and everywhere else you can imagine. I was so hard to know what to do in defence - making a fuss would have been dangerous in this particular situation as I was so outnumbered I knew it could have quickly turned much worse. Even the conductor who had past through earlier didn't kick them off the train despite the lack of tickets.
The dawn brought views of sand dunes and a fine coating of sand coated everything in the train. Most of the men had gone but one was remaining who I had noticed had kept himself separate through the trouble the previous night. I had an interesting discussion with him about Indian men's views of western women. Apparently all the men were from the army and were letting off steam...huh! But he respected my opinions. I still don't understand why so many men have such fixed opinions about white women. There's no logic to it as there were Indian women wearing tight western clothes but they weren't getting the same disrespectful treatment that I received.
When I arrived in Jaisalmer I took the local bus (sacks of rice beneath my feet, small child on one knee, someones shopping on the other!) to Khuri, a small desert village two hours due south. I stayed with a really lovely family and slept in my own little thatched mud hut. It was so special and peaceful - a real tonic after the stresses of the previous days. The food was cooked over the fire and was absolutely delicious. The husband was a gentle, fascinating person who took great pleasure from leading a simple life. The next day I headed off on a camel into the desert with some American students to spend a night on the dunes sleeping under the star-studded sky (camel travel is as painful as everyone says!). We passed lots of traditional mud houses so smooth they looked as though they could have been molded from plasticine. The landscape and experience was amazing and nasty memories soon replaced by great ones.
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