South Goa

Arriving at Agonda, I’m instantly happier. It’s a very small beach town with far less people. I have a little wooden hut with a terrace right on the beach overlooking the sea. A perfect spot to end my trip! Although there are 4 huts, I’m the only person there. It gets even better when I’m paid a visit by a local beach dog, who I later learn from the hotel owners is called Li Li. They tell me they feed her, but she’s skin and bones, so I head to the shop to stock up on beers and dog treats. She practically moves in after this, and spends the next few days sleeping under my sunbed. 

I spend the afternoon on my sun lounger reading my book but it’s absolutely baking. I venture into the sea to cool off, but it’s like taking a warm bath. Plus the current here can be quite strong so I decide to stick to cold showers. That evening, Li Li and I watch the sunset together. I’m feeling back to normal at this point, so I head to Agonda Serenity for a Goan fish curry and a piña colada. Delicious. 

The next morning I head to Zest cafe, as recommended by my hotel and pretty much every travel guide. It has a very hippy vibe with lots of bamboo and plants, which means I’m surrounded by yoga wankers ordering oat milk flat whites and vegan breakfasts. Sadly avocados aren’t in season, so I order the scrambled eggs with goats cheese, sundried tomatoes and spring onion and it’s divine! I end up having breakfast here every morning and making my way through the menu.  

That afternoon I jump in a tuk tuk and head to neighbouring beach, Palolem, to hang out with Chantal. It’s also a nice beach, but busier than Agonda, so I’m glad I chose the location I did. We spend the afternoon chatting and drinking beer. I then stop for a £10 full body massage on the way back to my hotel. 

For dinner I wander along the beach to Simrose. The waiter winks and clicks his tongue at me after everything I order, which I don’t love. The food, however, is pretty good. I order a typical Goan dish, chicken xacuti, which has grated coconut and a variety of spices. 

The next day I awake to a sea of cows on the beach. There are actually more cows than people in Agonda, which I don’t mind at all, until one of them decides to take a shit two feet from my lounger. They’re clever little bastards too, as I watch one of them turn my outside shower on to cool off and have a drink. That afternoon, Chantal pays me a visit and we have lunch together in Kamaya restaurant along the beach. I ordered the masala fry fish which is delicious. Obviously all the fish here is super fresh and caught that day. Just wish I had more time to try more things.

I spend some time sitting chatting to the hotel owner and manager, who are two of the loveliest people I’ve met. Dana is from Khazakstan and Pankaj from North India. They live and work 6 months in Agonda and then shut up shop and head home during monsoon season. Not a bad life, but my main concern is who feeds the dogs when they all go home??

I awake to my last day in India. I head to Zest cafe for breakfast (smoothie bowl this time), feed the dogs, and enjoy the sun. I’m ready to go home, but not ready for the cold that awaits, or the thousands of emails in my inbox.  However, in less than 3 months I’ll be back on Indian shores for a 9 day hike in Kerala!

On the plus side, my heating has been off for 3 weeks and saved me some ££. But that also means the flat will be baltic when I arrive home friday afternoon. And there’ll be no food in the house of course. Maybe I’ll order a curry…

North Goa & Panjim

My relaxing beach part of the holiday gets off to a great start when my taxi driver drops me off at my hotel which, it turns out, does not exist! It’s called the Secret Cove, but it’s so fucking secret that it’s invisible to the naked eye and none of the locals know of its existence! Cue an angry email to Agoda, a swift refund, and a hasty booking of another hotel down the road. 

In good news, alcohol here is cheap, and bars are everywhere. God knows I could use a drink right now. I plonk myself in one of the many beach bars and order a Kingfisher. I’m regretting my decision to stay two nights at Baga Beach (the party side of North Goa). It all feels a little tacky and not at all what I expected. I watch the sunset, along with the cows who all bizarrely traipse to the beach en masse to watch it too. 

That evening I meet Chantal for drinks on the beach. Baga at night is a totally different place and I instantly hate it. It’s like the Blackpool illuminations. Ridiculously loud music and flashing lights emanating from all the bars, strobe lights in the sky. It feels like I’m at a carnival. I also expected to see more foreigners but all of the tourists here are Indians. It’s back to be being famous with so many people approaching me asking where I’m from and asking for photos. I’m in no mood after the day I’ve had so I’m rather short with them. 

We manage to find a slightly quieter beach bar where we’re actually capable of having a conversation. We have a few beers, but in 80% humidity they’re warm as soon as they touch the table. We call it a night around 11 and head towards the main road past all of the clubs. It’s just a sea of people, mainly men, and so many club touts trying to tempt us in with free entry and drinks. I literally could not think of anything worse.

On my walk back to my hotel, my stomach starts to feel a bit funny. Fucking brilliant. Icing on the cake after the day I’ve had. To top it all off, the toilet flush breaks. Jesus Christ. I toss and turn with stomach cramps most of the night. I’m not even sure what caused it as I didn’t have an appetite today and all I ate was a croissant and some chips. I message the hotel owner to let him know I’ll be checking out tomorrow a day earlier than planned. I can’t stay here a minute longer. 

The next morning I head to Panjim, the capital city of Goa. I still feel like death, and feel nauseous the whole day. After a short lie down I force myself out as I’m only here for one day and would be a shame not to see the town. I last about 20 minutes before I feel like I’m going to pass out and head back to the hotel. A couple of hours later I’m feeling a bit better, so I head back out for a walk. The old part of the town, Fontainhas, is the legacy left by the Portuguese who ruled Goa for close to 450 years. Who knew. The town, now a UNESCO world heritage site, retains all the architectural from that time so there’s cute little streets with colourful colonial buildings, many now cafes and boutique hotels. Because of the Portuguese influence, there’s lots of great restaurants serving Portuguese/Goan fusion tapas, which i don’t think I have it in me to try. I was supposed to do a tapas and cocktail tour that evening, which I had to cancel. At this point I can’t even stomach a pastel de nata, so you know I must be ill!

After another lie down, I’m starting to have a bit of an appetite, which is a good sign. The only thing I think I can stomach is pasta, so I head to an Italian restaurant for a simple tomato pasta before having a very early night. Fingers crossed I’ll be back to normal tomorrow

Mumbai

My first impression of Mumbai is that it’s hot as fuck! The second thing I notice is that it’s a little more civilised (emphasis on little)! There’s notably less honking, despite the traffic. The 17 mile journey from the airport to my hotel in Colaba takes almost an hour. I guess that’s to be expected given it’s the most populated city in India, with a population of around 22 million. Nuts. Mumbai is a completely different world to New Delhi, which seems like a distant memory at this point. Everyone here is really friendly, and far more respectful. It’s a much more modern city in terms of its infrastructure, although there’s still lots of old dilapidated housing in the shadow of the massive modern skyscrapers. 

After checking into my hotel, I have a quick walk around the neighbourhood. I feel like I’ve returned to the modern world, and the locals couldn’t give two shits about me. I order an Uber to get to the general vicinity of where my dinner reservation is. Again, it’s another 40 odd minute drive just to reach it. It’s like me jumping in an Uber and heading to Glasgow for a quick bite to eat. Although that would cost me way more than £4.20, and to be fair I’d probably feel less safe there! 

As I’m early for dinner, I head to a cocktail bar across the street called Bumipura. I’m the only person in there so I sit at the bar and get chatting to the lovely barmen. I have two drinks here, one of which is one of the best cocktails of my life. It was called 

Dear Seri and consisted of pandan-infused coconut oil fat-washed gin, vodka, and Japanese sake, topped with a warm coconut rice foam with a savoury peanut rim. Wanky description taken from the menu. The two drinks costs me around £30, so similar prices to back home really. 

Dinner was at The Bombay Canteen, which does a modern twist on traditional Indian dishes. Generally the food is meant to be shared, but as I was on my own I went for the tasting menu so I could try as many dishes as possible, which at £28 was really good value! It included seabass ceviche with spicy mayo, beef tartare, chettinad prawns, pork taco, a spiced kebab, and then a chicken kurma with the best garlic naan I’ve had in my life. And to finish off, salted caramel ice cream with almonds. Plus they kept asking me if wanted second helpings of anything. I ate consistently for about 2.5 hours. My head barely touched my pillow before I was asleep that night. 

The next morning I find a cafe nearby serving flat whites. What a treat! I order a coffee and some overnight oats with dates (the masseuse told me to eat more dates in winter after all). I then meet my guide, Tanvi, at the Gateway of India to start my morning tour. Over the next 3 hours she takes me on a tour of the city including a ride on the cheapest form of transport here, the local trains. It costs about 40p for a journey. The trains, which carry 8 million people on a daily basis, have a limit of 70 passengers per carriage, but Tanvi tells me during rush hour there’s over 600 crammed in any given compartment. Horrific. The ceiling is full of handles, and obviously there’s no AC, so that’s a lot of sweaty pits in your face. 

We stop at Swati snacks, a street food restaurant popular with locals and tourists. We order a few dishes including sev puri (crispy fried discs topped with potatoes onions and tomatoes), pav baji, and dahi batata puri. The latter is probably one of the tastiest little bites I’ve ever put in my mouth - basically puris filled with yoghurt and chutneys. I could eat a million of them! 

We also visit Dhobi Ghat, the worlds largest and oldest outdoor laundry. Over 7,000 people work here, many working shifts up to 20 hours per day. They still do a lot of washing by hand in giant concrete baths, although some machines have now been installed. They wash clothes, uniforms, towels and linen from people all over Mumbai, including many hotels and restaurants. I’d given some laundry to my hotel the night before, so my pants are likely on display for all to see down there. It looks like a logistical nightmare, but each item is coded to be traced back to the respective client. Mind blowing. 

I stop for a cocktail at the Harbour Bar in the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel, the first licensed bar in India. There’s a famous cocktail here that was created when prohibition ended in 1933. Two American sailors came to the bar the day prohibition ended and asked the bartender to make them a drink. He created a drink for them, and they were asked to name it. They stood up and toasted “from the harbour since 1933”. Hardly rolls off the tongue does it lads. The poor barman spends a good few minutes giving me the spiel and making it on front of me. I’m sure he dies a little inside whenever someone orders it. It tastes just like my mum’s bahama mama cocktail, although hers is better as she’s far more liberal with the alcohol. And hers doesn’t cost me £18!

That evening I join the final street food tour of my trip. It’s just me and a Dutch woman, Chantal, who I bond with quickly over our shared despair about the lack of alcohol here. Neither of us have ever drank so little on holiday before. But it turns out we’re both heading to Goa next, so we swap numbers and agree to party together when we’re there! The tour itself has a ridiculous amount of food and I feel quite sick after it. Our guide Rishi is lovely. He tell us he lives in the slum with 3 other colleagues sharing one room. His wife and kids live a 44 hour train journey away near the border with Nepal and he sees them two or three times per year. He came to Mumbai to find work, but its too expensive for his family to live there with him. Sadly this is not an uncommon story here. 

The next morning I’m up early for my Dharavi slum tour. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from it and was a bit worried that locals would think us foreigners just come to gawk at them. But it was actually the complete opposite and was an eye-opening experience. I did the tour through Reality Tours which partner with the NGO in the slum, investing 80% of their profits back into the community. The tour is also carried out by residents of the slum, it covers a very small part, and photos are not allowed out of respect for those that live and work there. 

Here are some things I learnt:

• Spread over 500 acres, over 1 million people live in Dhavari, making it one of the most densely populated areas in the world. 
• It’s like a town within a town, as the slum has everything you’d expect to see in a local neighbourhood such as cafes, banks, barbers etc
• The slum is broken down into commercial and residential areas. There are numerous small-scale industries producing products delivered all over India and beyond, including leather production, pottery, textiles, and recycling. The slum's annual turnover is estimated to be over $1 billion.
• Salaries of workers depend on how skilled their industry is. The average monthly salary for an unskilled worker is approximately £115, and £280 for a skilled worker.
• Rent can be as high as £45-£95 per month.
• There are different levels of wealth here. Many people live inside shacks with tarps and sheetmetal for walls and the ceiling. Others live in 3 story houses. Not everyone who lives in the slum is poor, and many people choose to live here. 
• Only 30% of houses in the slums have their own toilets and showers. The majority rely on the community bathrooms run by the government, who charge 3 rupees per use (30p)
• The government supplies electricity and water for a monthly fee, although the water is only on for 3-4 hours each day so the residents have to store water in barrels.
• Dharavi has a literacy rate of 69%, making it one of the most educated slums in India
• Crime is virtually non existent given the strong sense of community 
• Although it’s been the subject of redevelopment plans for years, there’s a strong resistance from the residents who are concerned about losing their sense of community and the industries that support them. 

So it wasn’t entirely as I expected, not that I actually knew what to expect in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, it was still an attack on all my senses. Parts of the slum were quite unpleasant in terms of quantity of rubbish, damp, foul smells. But the people here seem happy, they work hard and they take pride in what they do. 90% of the people living here are employed and take no help from the government. Can’t say the same about my own country! 

After the tour I head to the Bandra neighbourhood for lunch at Veronica’s, which specialises in sandwiches. I order the prawn sandwich and one of their own brew beers, which costs me more than the workers earn in one day of hard labour. Certainly puts things in perspective. 

That evening I head to Masque restaurant for a 10 course fine dining menu which I’d booked a few weeks prior. Again, I feel like a right arsehole over-indulging on delicious food after my experience this morning. I donate the price of my meal to the charity organisation to ease my conscience slightly.
 

Overall, I actually quite enjoyed Mumbai. But I’m more than ready for a week of relaxation on the beaches of Goa!  

Udaipur: Venice of the East

I’m picked up at 930 for my last car journey of the trip, thank god. It’s a 3 hour drive to Ranakpur Temple, where we make a stop. They’re very strict with visiting rules here, including one which prohibits women on their periods from entering. Not entirely sure how they police that one! The temple is really impressive, especially the detailed carvings. Constructed in the 15th century, it took 50 years to build. I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s then another 2 hours until Udaipur. My driver is a little on the chatty side, and every time I start to drift off he wakes me by pointing out cotton fields and the like. He also regales me with a lovely story about a Thai woman who was gang raped and shot in the shoulder in Udaipur, urging me to be careful. Thanks for that mate. I’d like to state that at no point have I felt unsafe here. Harassed, fucked off, uncomfortable…yes. Daily. But unsafe, never.

I arrive at my hotel around 4pm and check into my room which has a huge balcony and an amazing view of the lake. The trend continues, as despite being here all of 5 minutes, Udaipur is my new favourite. It’s known as the Venice of the East, due to its many lakes. It almost feels like a different country entirely. I watch the sunset over Lake Pichola on the roof terrace with a cold beer before heading for dinner. 


The vibe here is notably more relaxed than everywhere else I’ve been. It’s far more pedestrian friendly for a start. You can walk freely in the narrow streets without fear of losing a toe to passing motorbikes and tuk tuks. Although you’re questioned and stared at, they take no for an answer and don’t persist. The people here seem to pray 24/7. The temples are rammed full of people, no matter what time of day. My mum struggles to get me to church on Christmas Day never mind 3 times a day every day! You can’t walk down the street here without hearing the chime of bells or the bang of drums from the temples. There’s also this song they play on repeat from the speakers, which has “it’s a small world” vibes and is annoying as fuck. Oftentimes you can hear it belting out from various temples at the same time, and totally out of sync. 

Dinner is at Khamma Ghani which, like most of the restaurants here, is romantically lit with views over the lake. I order a large gin, and at the recommendation of the manager, the mewari murg dunghaar. It’s a smoked chicken dish made using a Rajasthani technique called dhungar (which involves smoking food over hot charcoal that's been drizzled with ghee). I’m in curry heaven!!
The next morning I’m en route to a cafe when I slip on dog shit (could be cow or goat shit to be fair, who knows) and my arse hits the floor. Minter. It’s all over my feet, hands and skirt, so it’s back home for another shower and a quick change. I eat a delicious breakfast at Cafe Jheel, eggs kejriwal, which is fried eggs topped with cheese and chilis. I then spend the next few hours on a walking tour of the city. I have to be honest, it bores me slightly, and the highlight for me is near the end where we stop at a homemade crisp stall. I’m sure my face notably changes from my disinterest at the clay pot making to my excited “ooooh crisps” face. I buy two bags, one flavoured with mint and the other chili. 

I head for lunch to Yummy Yoga, a vegetarian rooftop restaurant. I get chatting to the only other person there, Reg. He was born in Iran but lives in Sweden. He spends 6 months of the year living in a village 40km from Udaipur where he has studio. My lunch is actually delicious, my favourite part being the dessert which is coarsely ground wheat, crushed and cooked with ghee and sugar (like everything else here). It has a strong taste of cardamom and is ridiculously good. It basically tastes like the biscuit base of a cheesecake. 

After lunch I visit the city palace. The tour guide from this morning told me to allow 2 hours for my visit. I finish it in 30 minutes. If you’re not particularly into suits of armour, weapons and paintings, then don’t waste your time. 

That evening I head to the Bagore Ki Haveli, which is a typical rajasthan folk dance show.  The performance is actually really entertaining, which helps take my mind of the pain of sitting crossed legged on the floor for over an hour. The puppet master in particular is super talented and amusing. 
After the show I head to Harigarh restaurant for dinner. I’m seated at one of the beds overlooking the lake, which is cute, albeit slightly impractical for eating. I order the desi murg curry, as I’ve already tried all of the other dishes the manager recommends me. After every dish he suggests to me, he kisses his fingers like an Italian chef. The curry is probably the spiciest I’ve had yet, and tastes very strongly of garlic, which I certainly don’t have a problem with. It’s mad how many different curries there are here. I’ve never seen or heard of half of the things on the menu! I’m not even slightly getting sick of it yet. At this stage in Mexico, I was reaching my limit with tacos, but that’s not happening here. Yet. 

Jodphur: The Blue City

The first thing I do when I get to my hotel in Jodphur after the 4 hour drive is head up to the terrace and have a nice cold Kingfisher beer. The rooftop has spectacular views of the Mehrangarh Fort and the entire city, which is a sea of blue houses. Hence Jodphur being known as the blue city. 

That evening I meet my guide for my penultimate food tour of the trip. There’s only so much street food you can eat quite frankly, and I’m reaching my limit with deep fried dishes. We start with a biryani at Vijay, which is full of different spices and flavours. We stop to watch the sunset with a chai tea before sampling some more street food snacks, including the best gulab jamun I’ve had so far. We end with a visit to Mohanlal Verhomal (MV) shop, one of the most successful spice businesses in India. It’s famous for its authentic hand-ground spices but also because it’s the first female-owned spice shop in Rajasthan. When MV died, his wife and 7 daughters took on the business, despite much resistance and abuse from the locals who viewed it as a break from tradition. They’re known throughout the region as the Spice Girls and people come from all over the world to buy spices here. 

The next morning my guide picks me up at 730 for a walking tour of the old town. It turns out to be the same guide who did my food tour, Prabhat, who looks like the Indian Tom Selleck. Every few minutes he’d twiddle and reshape the ends of his moustache. He takes me around the narrow residential streets of Jodphur. Part of the tour includes a visit to one of the blue houses where we sit and enjoy a nice cup of homemade chai which is heavily spiced with cardamom. I’m obsessed. The masseuse actually told me after my massage that I was drinking too much chai and I should only have one or two a day. First of all, how did he know that?! It must’ve be emanating from my pores I’ve had so much of the stuff! And second, mind your own business pal, nobody asked for your opinion. 

Once my tour ends I head to the famous omelette stall for breakfast. Its run by a father and son and has been operating since the 1970s. There’s one pan in the middle, with crates of eggs stacked high either side. Lord knows how many they get through on a daily basis. I asked, and even they don’t have a clue! I opted for the masala ucheese omelette which is served on toast. Delicious!

Next it’s time to visit the fort. Prabhat offered to be my guide as he had no other tours booked that day. I had planned on doing it alone, but he’s a nice guy, and it’s his livelihood at the end of the day, so I agreed. On my own I’d have spent about 30 minutes in the place not really taking anything in. This way I slowed down (as per the advice from my guru masseuse) and learnt a thing or two. For example, one of the kings here took 51 wives. He was so busy doing king stuff, that he wasn’t physically able to attend all of his weddings, so instead he sent his sword in his place. I think many women have married worse. Also, I learn that he wasn’t a total hussy, he married multiple women to make strategic alliances with as many families as he could, not because he was a serial shagger. Makes sense I guess. 

After the tour finishes, I head to one of the many rooftop bars for an ice cold beer. I have two options at this point. Jump in a tuk tuk and head to some gardens, or do a little rooftop bar hop. Can you guess which option I chose?! Given I didn’t eat lunch, I was half cut by 5pm so went home for a little lie down before dinner. 

The scent of curry is wafting through the air and I’m fucking starving! On the recommendation of my guide, I head to Gopal rooftop restaurant for dinner. It’s the highest rooftop in the city, so has unbeatable views of the fort which is romantically lit in the evening. I order the laal maas (mutton curry) which is a speciality of the region. I ask for it spicy, knowing fine well at this point that ‘spicy’ from the mouth of a white person means medium. It’s delicious! I know I still have two weeks left, but i can’t see me getting sick of this cuisine. Ever. 

Jodphur has been my favourite city so far. In fact, the order that I’ve travelled is probably my order of preference. New Delhi being my least favourite. Next stop, Udaipur! 

Pushkar

I head to the station for my train to Pushkar. I get chatting to the only other white person on the platform, Mario from Spain, who’s also travelling alone. He works for the police in the Spanish embassy in Bilbao, so I figured he’d be a good person to spend the day with the exploring the town and hopefully stop me being hassled so much (I later discover this makes not one jot of a difference). 

We meet up after checking into our hotels and wander around the town, which is tiny compared to everywhere else I’ve been so far. However, its no less busy as the streets are jam packed full of people. This is largely due to it being the annual Camel Fair (the worlds largest camel fair in fact). Normally the town’s population is around 30,000, but during the Camel Fair over 500,000 people descend on the city to buy/sell camels and join in the festivities. When I was on the tour with the two girls in Jaipur we used an app to figure out how many camels we were worth. I’m apparently worth 55 camels, so I’d say the odds of me being abducted and sold are quite high over the next two days.

Next we jump on the cable car to Savitri Mata, a temple on the hill on the outskirts of town. The top is riddled with monkeys, who scout the tourists looking for food. They also wade through the rubbish looking for scraps. The waste problem here in India is terrible, it’s literally everywhere. Recycling does not exist, so it’s pretty sad to see such a beautiful location and the cute little monkeys sitting atop mountains of plastic bottles.

Once the sun sets, we make our way back to our respective hotels and agree to meet up again when we coincide in Jodphur. That evening I have a thali dinner in my hotel. It comes with a lentil curry, a butter paneer curry (which is delicious), rice and two types of breads. All for £2.50! What it doesn’t come with, however, is beer. Pushkar is a dry town, as well as being completely vegetarian. How will I cope?!

The next morning I have breakfast at Honey Dew cafe, run by a lovely Indian family. I order the banana and honey pancake, which is delicious, as well as my first proper coffee which excites me greatly. Good coffee has been hard to find. I get chatting to a woman from England and a guy from Denmark (who spends 6 months of the year living in Rajasthan). They meet in this cafe every morning for the good coffee, food, and the people watching. They’re both total hippies, as are the majority of tourists here, given the town is one of the most spiritual places in India. 

That morning I do a walking tour with guide, Manesh. I’m joined by an older couple from Switzerland and an American guy from Atlanta, Georgia. Over the next 4 hours we’re taken on a spiritual tour of Pushkar. I have to admit, I often find learning about these things boring after a while, but he was such a good guide, and the culture here is so fascinating, I listened to every word. 

Feel free to skip this next section if you’re not interested in the history of Pushkar! But I’m writing it down so I don’t forget! Basically there are three main gods in Hinduism - Shiva, Vishnu and Brahma. Brahma is known as the god of creation, and Pushkar is said to be the beginning of the universe. The story goes that Brahma dropped a lotus flower, which landed in Pushkar. Water then sprang from the ground, forming the sacred lake. Locals believe bathing in the lake is purifying, hence why there’s so many half naked people washing their dirty pits in there.

The lake is also where they perform many rituals for prosperity, health and happiness. And, of course, there is a very famous scam surrounding this in Pushkar, which luckily I’d read about prior to arriving! Tourists are offered flowers to throw in the lake. If you follow them down to perform the ritual, they then aggressively force you to give them $100. The American guy had already fallen for it earlier that day, go figure! We perform the proper ritual with our guide, who is a Brahma priest. At the end we’re given a bracelet, which is known as the “pushkar passport”. You show this to the scam artists at the lake and they leave you alone!

We visit Brahma temple, which is the only temple of worship in the whole of India for Brahma, which is unusual as the other gods have thousands. This is because his wife put a curse on him after he cheated on her and married his second wife, all because his first wife arrived late to a ritual. I totally get it. Nothing annoys me more than tardiness. 

Similar to other towns I’ve visited so far, there are cows and dogs everywhere here. Manesh tells us that each cow actually belongs to someone. They’re let out first thing in the morning and are free to roam around the town. They find their way back home in the evening. It’s customary for local people to feed both the cows and dogs chapatis. They will always leave two chapatis on the plate after eating, which are specifically for the animals. 

After the tour I head for an Ayurvedic massage. Basically a normal massage, but they also interpret messages from your body. I learn that I need to control my emotions more, to learn to say no, to slow down, to speak about my feelings more and to eat more dates (but only in the winter). Strange because the only message I’m getting from body is “bitch, why haven’t you given me beer in two days”.

That evening I head to the lake for sunset and watch the fire festival ritual they perform on the lake every night. I’m handed a flyer by a young guy who says there’s live music at a hostel in town later and to swing by. I promise him I will. 


I haven’t had lunch, so I’m starving at this point. On the recommendation of Manesh, I head to Sanjay rooftop restaurant and order malai kofta and garlic naan. It’s spicy and delicious.

As a woman of my word, I head to the hostel for some live music. The guy from earlier (who it turns out is a gypsy) is waiting outside and seems happy to see me. I follow him to the courtyard inside and there is neither music nor any other human soul. He assures me that more people are coming. I’m dying for the loo at this point after tanking a litre of water at dinner. I set one foot in the toilet and its rancid, so instead I sit cross-legged and uncomfortable for about 20 minutes will I’m taught how to play the bongos! As soon as I feel like it’s acceptable, I claim I have a 6am pick up and swiftly exit.

I have to say, Pushkar has been my favourite place so far in India. I’d go as far as to say it was actually quite peaceful! 

Jaipur: The Pink City

I’m picked up at 8am for a cultural city tour of the Pink city (which is actually terracotta, but that doesn’t roll off the tongue as well). There are two other girls on the tour which is good as it’s tiring being on tours alone and having to appear super engaged the whole time. Especially when they’re talking about boring shit like paintings and carpets. 

We tick off most of the hotspots today, starting with the vegetable and flower market, where I almost get trampled by a stray cow (they roam the streets like dogs here raking bins for food).

Next up is the Amber Fort. It’s set on a hill, and they have elephant rides to take tourists up the steep winding path. Each elephant will do at least 5 round trips between 8-11am. Who are these fuckwits that pay to facilitate this cruelty? Americans, probably.

We learn that the Amber Palace was occupied by Man Singh II. He had 12 wives, each one with a different sign of the zodiac to ensure good luck during his lifetime. He also had 21 mistresses, to ensure a constant stream of good times. That palace must’ve been riddled. He very graciously housed them all in private apartments though, so not a bad deal if you ask me.

We’re then taken to Jantar Mantar, a UNESCO world heritage site featuring a collection of astronomical instruments built in the 18th century. It houses the world’s largest sundial. The creator had originally built a smaller one, but it was only accurate to within 10 minutes, so he built another one twenty times bigger, accurate to 2. OCD much? We end with a tour of a textile factory where they showcase block printing and rug making and try to sell us shit we don’t want or need. 

 

The next day I’m tour free and excited to wander around the city at my own pace. I start with breakfast at Gulab ji chai, famous for its chai tea (which I’m obsessed with here) and bun maska, a soft bun slathered with a generous amount of butter. It’s a popular place as the street is rammed with locals.

I then begin my 30 minute climb to Nahargarh Fort. There’s motorbikes at the bottom charging £2 to take you up the 2km path, which is like 4 times the price of what it should cost. It’s still pocket change, but I’m eager for a little exercise now that I’m able to walk without fear of being mowed down. 

The fort is a popular sunset spot, which is understandable given the views from the top. Sadly the air pollution is still pretty bad, so visibility isn’t great. I’m actually starting to feel it in my lungs and missing the good old Scottish clean air! 

After enjoying a nice cold beer, I jump in a tuk tuk and head to the Monkey Temple, which requires another 2k uphill slog. It’s here that my celebrity status goes from B list to A list as I’m accosted by swarms of children, women, and families. One family want individual photos with me, which I agree to before realising just how big the family is! I should really start charging 100 rupees per photo, it’d pay for my whole trip.

The monkey temple is beautiful, but I’m a bit nervous around them after my experience in Bali (they’re vicious thieving little bastards there). Luckily the monkeys here are super chill and not in the least bit bothered by the people. 

That evening I have a food tour booked in the old city. I’m met by my guide, Rhea, who is super sweet and incredibly passionate. It’s nice to have a female guide for a change, as most are men.

Over the course of the next 3 hours i’m whisked around a ridiculous amount of street food stalls including samosas, kachoris (fried lentil patties), gulab jamun, Bombay mix, a massive bowl of chat and this incredibly delicious dish which is basically just a slab of butter with cardamom spices and honey. At this point my trousers are pretty tight and my heart is about to go into cardiac arrest from all the fried food and sugar. This is when Rhea declares, “right, and now we have dinner”. I laughed because I thought she was joking. She was not. We proceed to have a sit down meal in vegetarian restaurant, Ganesh, where we share a lentil dhal and a vegetarian curry with two types of bread. I’m about to throw up at this point, but I’m British and don’t want to be rude so I force as much of it down as I can. Finally, we finish with dessert which is ice cream with rose flavoured custard. This woman is trying to kill me. Taxi for Davies!