Al’ n And’s grey gap year adventures

Shark Bay. I think I mentioned our relief at finding camping at Hamelin Pool, at the southern end of Shark bay and then a hotel in Denham during peak school holidays. Six nights followed by three. The camp site sounds great, right next to the beach 400m to see the stromatolites. Camp kitchen. ablutions block. Laundry. Drivable to Shark Bay attractions. What could possibly go wrong. Well in reality nothing went seriously wrong but, but, but…

The campsite is right next to the beach and the sea looks amazing, the shore is a mix of white sand and shells, but it is strictly off limits, except for the 400m walking track, because it is a protected marine park for the stromatolites. How did we not discover that before booking?

It’s windy and the night time temperatures are cold

It is drivable to Shark Bay attractions but that means collapsing the roof top tent every morning and erecting it every evening. Roberto gets good and quick at this but it is still a considerable effort, not to mention the time required to secure everything else left on site while we drive off. And the distances: we have to get smarter at this. To see anything other than the campsite is between a 200k and 280k round trip daily. Could be a long five days…

Stromatolites: not especially photogenic of themselves but evolutionarily important, and undeniably in a great spot (I knew nothing about them: “coral like formations, using photosynthesis are considered largely responsible for creating our current atmosphere and paving the way for more complex life”). Pretty cool to be able to walk to visit them

Our initial full day excursion finds us at Nanga Beach and then Shell Beach. Nanga was stunning, our first experience this trip of that classic Aussie sweep of white, white sand, amazing turquoise waters and no people. Roberto fished, Alison M embroidered, Andy and I walked, him dunes, me beach. The sand was actually a mix of sand and small, brilliant white shells. It was glorious

Then on to Shell Beach. I have inadequate adjectives and superlatives. All white and aqua. The beach entirely of shells of the Fragum Cockle, the only creature capable of surviving in the oh so salty sea. We admire, and photograph, and (except Roberto) venture into the water. It is very cold, and buoyant,  and probably the safest place in Australia to swim – zero chance of any nasties

Another day, another drive. This time to Monkey Mia, too late today for the “dolphin interaction” (see below). We enjoyed lunch at a great beachside bar, walked and were captivated by the beach and the sunset with shore-cruising bottle nosed dolphins

One of the major attractions of the area is the Francois Peron National Park. We spent two days exploring parts of it and loved all we saw. Only accessible by 4WD it felt adventurous. Well set up with a compressed air station at the park entrance, to deflate (and on exit re-inflate) one’s tyres. Roberto drove us in and Andy out that first day and they both enjoyed the red dirt and the corrugations

We drove to Cape Peron, stunning red cliffs, yellow sand, blue and green sea. A beautiful walk to Skipjack Point and back, high above the crystal waters, through floral bush, spotting rays, sharks and a turtle

We even saw a giant echidna, an emu, a standard echidna and a kangaroo on the drive home. At last some wildlife!!

The next day at Francois Peron we chilled at South Gregories, another beautiful beach, great shells, fascinating rock pools, energizing (damn cold!!) swimming and Roberto caught two fish. We considered keeping and cooking them for supper but decided against it* so the exercise became one of catch and release

*The campsite provides a good BBQ facility and the camp kitchen has a sink and running water BUT campers have to remove all their own rubbish. The nearest place to dispose of it is a skip bin at the Francois Peron entrance. Putting aside all issues of our uncertainty about gutting and cleaning the fish, and avoiding fish bones eating it in near dark, we decided living with the waste for a day or so and driving it approx 130Ks to dispose of it would be really unpleasant and best avoided

A late afternoon walk at Big Lagoon (great light, red mud!) concluded our visit and we saw a spectacular moon rise as the sun set on our way “home”

Francois Peron has been fabulous, pristine and fascinating

All happy to be striking camp and leaving Hamelin Pool the next day; we drive to Denham stopping at a panorama where the color of the sand bar (another white-sand-and-shell beauty) tempted us for a walk. More spectacular sea views from Eagle Bluff – crystal clear waters but not a marine creature or avian of any sort in sight

Denham is a small town and we have already explored its shopping (two supermarkets) and cafe culture (there is one, run by an eccentric ex-pat Englishwoman, apart from the bakery) on earlier forays from Hamelin Pool. Slightly worried three nights here is too much we are immediately cheered by large rooms, excellent showers and a great bar at the hotel. Happy hour 5 till 6, Mumm at $75 less 20%** and another fabulous sunset. What’s not to love?

** About £33!! Sadly they only had two bottles but one of those was a pink which they sold us for the same price…

The following day the boys were off on a fishing charter and Alison M and I walked the town’s heritage trail (a short if interesting walk, highlights being the church, the Old Pearler Restaurant and the war memorial)

Boys successful: Andy snared a pink snapper and Roberto a mulloway. Apparently a pair of dolphins visited and stayed for a long time with the boat and Andy is most upset that he couldn’t photograph them. All phones and cameras were locked in a Faraday cage at the beginning of the charter: the skipper does not want GPS co-ordinates embedded in digital photographs disclosing his best spots! Fishing is a big activity in the town and on the foreshore are two gutting/filleting tables with running water and bins for the waste. By an amazing stroke of luck a group of friends from Albany had been out on a boat overnight, came back with an amazing catch (despite losing at least five loaded lines to voracious sharks) and were more than happy to fillet our boys’ catch – phew!!

We used a town BBQ to grill and eat the fish for supper with chips from the local chippie. Delish despite the very cold wind!!

And so to Monkey Mia (pronounced myah…I keep getting it wrong, damn ABBA). It is an eco-conservation dolphin interaction. Tourists line up on the beach or jetty at 7.45 a.m. There is a talk from a Parks & Wildlife employee explaining the history of dolphin feeding at Monkey Mia and the evolution of this practice into scientific research and conservation. And then, dolphins appear. There are five “resident” females in the bay, most with a calf, one of which will be fed about one tenth of her necessary daily intake of fish so as not to discourage normal hunting, feeding and nursing practices. The dolphins are recognized by damage to their dorsal fins and are given names, as are the calves. The science appears sound, the dolphins are unbelievably cute but it still feels a bit, well, like witnessing a show at a marine park. After the feeding we walk away from the jetty and the resort and have the best time watching the pelicans and then dolphins who cruise the shoreline NOT being fed. The pelicans in particular provide irresistible photograph subjects

A late afternoon walk at Little Lagoon is fabulous; we have to retrace our steps to find the crossing – sandbar and wading – to enable us to traverse the sea-mouth of the lagoon and complete the circuit

Dinner at The Old Pearler and an excellent crayfish mornay (for me and Alison M) is the end to our three days which we have very much enjoyed. Now we are looking forward to Coral Bay and lots of sea based excitement

Until next time, g’day to you all

ALISON 

We continue north, first stop the pink lake. It is full of carotenoid algae, responsible for its colour, which is commercially managed and farmed and used as food colouring.  It is a scenic leg stretch and framed by very fragrant bush. A few skittish small birds but no other wildlife is evident

Then to Kalbarri and our first taste of WA national park. In Kalbarri the park is divided in two: to the south it is clifftop with views out west over the Indian Ocean; to the north and east it is bush, red cliffs and gorge carved by the mighty Murchison river. We stop at a lookout in the southern national park, Grandstand, and spy humpback whales on their northern migration, blowing and breaching. They are a good way offshore but it is spectacularly beautiful and soooo exciting to see

We are staying in the town, which has a great foreshore where the Murchison flows into the sea, protected by a reef. We take a walk at dusk and watch pelicans, fishermen, crashing waves and a stunning WA sunset

An early evening drink at what we are beginning to recognise as a classic WA regional pub: large, industrial looking building, bar area, counter meals area, TVs showing sport. Alison M manages to sweet-talk the barman into tuning in to the first day of Wimbledon and we watch the opening matches!

The following day we walk in the southern national park, following the Bigurda Trail, from Eagle Gorge, past lookouts at Grandstand (again), Island Rock and Natural Bridge and then back. Probably our first properly “Ozzie” day with great big blue sky and sea. The round walk is 16k of cliff top on a well defined path, not too much climb and drop but with a lot of loose stone under foot so fairly slow going. Add in the need to admire the views, sniff the fragrant bush, spot early wildflowers, wonder at the fabulous colors and striations in the cliffs, spot the offshore humpbacks and its is a pretty long but rewarding day

Dinner is at local favourite Finlay’s, a big outdoor eatery with BBQ and local fish, decorated with industrial artworks (or as the cynics might call it cast-off agricultural and fishing equipment); highly atmospheric but it is a damn chilly evening to be eating outside and with very slow service – an hour for a starter and another hour for a main. Apparently super busy because of winter school holidays . . . .  

With two more full days before heading out of Kalbarri we have a day at the beach at Eagle Bluff: perfect weather, sea, sand, dunes and rocks. No swimming – too cold to be tempting and big waves which brought the surfers out. Roberto fished. His only catch too small and returned to the sea

The following day is an outing to the north eastern national park. A walk to Nature’s Window – the most people we have yet seen anywhere, obviously a big tourist draw. More great views and fragrant bush but very few birds and the only other wildlife is a couple of kangaroos grazing

Our plan to walk the 8K loop is curtailed by the need to get our truck to a mechanic in the town, to see if the front windscreen washers can be fixed: there is no washing despite a full tank. Unfortunately the problem cannot be quickly diagnosed and is not fixed. We will, via the hire company who are responsive, have to book it in elsewhere. A gentle last afternoon at the town foreshore including a pedallo ride and another spectacular sunset. Another evening trying to plan for destinations further north at Coral Bay and Exmouth and failing to find any availability – same story, winter school holidays. We decide not to panic and instead to make a few phone calls in the morning

We leave for Hamelin Pool, at the southern end of Shark Bay and make two more stops in the national park en route: Hawks Head and Ross Graham Lookout. Very pleasant walking and more great rocks and views

The drive from Kalbarri is about 240Ks including the stops at the national park. We break for lunch at our first classic roadhouse: The Billabong. In fact there are two adjacent roadhouses, in different ownership, using the same name which we assume is of the local town. However, Roberto asks if there is anything more to Billabong and it it is just the two roadhouses. On the advice of Dan from whom we picked up our rental truck we eat at the first (Thai chicken curry) and buy fuel at the second, where we share petrol pumps with Tim Minchin and his family – a low key celebrity moment!

And then we drive on, more straight roads, low scrub, some flowering wattle and no wildlife

Until next time, g’day to you all

ALISON 

PS: map below shows our route from Geraldton to Hamelin Pool

OK. A confession. Since night 1 at the Vous we have not spent one under canvas. Our excuse – and extenuating circumstance – the weather. You will understand why we are keeping a keen eye on the forecast. We all checked average monthly temperatures and rainfall before we booked BUT it appears there is no such thing as predictable patterns any more. This antipodean west coast winter the rains are later and temperatures – especially night time – cooler, in places colder, than usual

Expecting two days of rain we booked a cabin at Jurien Bay, about 230Ks north of Perth on the coast. We drove in glorious sunshine and stopped for our first (of the trip) proper Aussie pub lunch  in Lancelin, a classic low lying ugly building but blessed with a fabulous lawn terrace overlooking the Indian Ocean. Lots and lots of seagulls threatened our pizze, the only food option, but we kept them safe!

Our cabin at Jurien felt luxurious after the tent and sure enough the rain started that evening and didn’t really stop for two days. We had to move cabin the next morning because of a problem with the boiler and then there was a town-wide power cut. We headed south a few Ks for a lunch of local seafood and then to The Pinnacles national park. Desert location, spectacular rock formations, the road trail was closed even to 4WD vehicles, we bought rain ponchos and walked

Big spaces, big skies, highly photogenic and pretty much devoid of other visitors. Spectacular

The weather didn’t look enticing enough to keep us on the coast, or camping, so we headed inland to the heart (well start) of wildflower country and with the intention of visiting one or more wildlife sanctuaries. Not many accommodation options, we picked a motel at Dalwallinu. The drive was through flat flat wheat land – vast empty spaces, we passed hardly another vehicle on the three hour drive

Dally – as all locals know it – is an agricultural centre. On the suggestion of the motel owner – he had only been running it for his father for a couple of months – we drove to Ballantine Rocks, a little way north. The recommendation was to climb the rocks and see the 360 degree view. We were therefore expecting a climb – but it was about 4m above sea level!! The view was good though, and interesting because it showed clearly how much natural bush has been cleared for agriculture

The next day we decided to take a punt on being allowed entry to one of the two wildlife sanctuaries in the area, either the Charles Darwin nature reserve or Mount Gibson sanctuary – both clearly marked on our map but about which we could find no information in our guidebooks, local tourist information centre or on-line. It’s a 300 K round trip . . . . .

Long straight national highway, road trains, not much else! No sign yet of any wildflowers in bloom

At a junction after about 125 ks there was a big sign for Mount Gibson Sanctuary advising access by appointment only and providing a telephone number. We rang and fortunately the call was answered, yes we could visit. We were given the code to the gate, asked to drive to the office and told it would be another 25 Ks. Red road, perfect Australian bush and a large, beautiful dingo. Roberto even managed to get a snap!

Then a red lake (its iron ore country) more perfect bush and our first kangaroos. Four of them, too shy to pose for photographs unlike the dingo, but Andy got a bouncing roo

Hamish, the Sanctuary manager, talked us through the projects, explained that visitor numbers are controlled to protect the environment that is being restored (flora and fauna, all native, the latter in a compound of 8,000 hectares protected by a feral predator-proof fence, regularly patrolled and maintained). There are however wild camping facilities and self guided drives and walks. We did two: the greenstone hills, with a walk through an acacia plantation, a walk to the radio mast – more 360 degree views – and a bird walk through some magnificent gum trees where the birds were being very shy, we saw nothing!

Our second tour was to mushroom rocks and lake Moore. First bit of proper rugged road, with dips full of water. Andy confident at the wheel and rightly so as he did not even need to engage the 4WD. The mushroom rocks, carved by wind and water, were entertaining, the lake in the distance vast. We had the place entirely to ourselves

The fragrances of the gum and wattle trees is fabulous. My favourite eucalyptus  of the day is known as the “stocking gum” – because its bark changes very distinctly out of the initial rough “stocking” to a smooth, lustrous finish

We asked Hamish for a recommendation for dinner on the way back to Dally – the suggestion was Wubin Roadhouse, Wubin being the closest town (townlet!!) on our route back to Dally and some 130 Ks to the south west of the sanctuary. . . We stop to investigate. It has a pub (you remember the scene in “American Werewolf”?) serving pizza and the roadhouse was attached to the petrol station. We decide to head back to the pub in Dally instead. That was lively after a local AFL match 

That evening we did some serious planning for the next phase of the trip: an overnight in Geraldton then on to Kalbarri, Shark Bay and Coral Cove. Traumatic evening. Apart from an apartment for one night in Geraldton everything further north on the coast appeared booked. Our attitude to planning has been: we have seven weeks, none of us know quite what to expect or where we will like and how long we will want to stay in any one place. There is plenty of accommodation and we can play it by ear. Our downfall: the two weeks winter school holidays starting four nights into our trip. The whole of Perth, and indeed WA to the south of Perth, seems on the move north. After a lot of googling, emailing and a few telephone calls we secure four nights in a cabin in Kalbarri

The next morning a few more phone calls gets us six nights in a campground in the south of Shark Bay at Hamelin Pool, then rooms in Denham, the heart of Shark Bay and a  cabin in Coral Cove. Phew! Crisis averted and a mix of solid structures and camping await

Relieved, our journey from Dally took us through the wildflower route – although we are too early and there is no evidence of any! Instead, heading north and west back to the coast, the drive is through flat wheat fields with the occasional tree and then flat bush with low lying scrub, mostly wattle. No more gum trees! But, the sun is out and our overnighter in Geraldton on the marina is thoroughly civilised, and we see our first spectacular sunset

Until next time, g’day to you all

ALISON 

PS: map below shows where we have stayed so far and the side trip to the Mount Gibson sanctuary 

PPS: I have “plugged in” a piece of software which claims it will rectify the image rotation issue – please let me know if it doesn’t

PPPS: blogs are slow: not to write but to find mobile coverage or wifi good enough to upload photos and send . . . .

A big trip. We are away four months: three months in Australia, three weeks in Japan, a week in Hong Kong

A bit of background: I have mentioned before, I think, that Alison M and I took a long- planned, long post-graduating gap year in 1985/86 starting with a tour through (parts of) India, Sri Lanka, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia and then on to Australia on working holiday visas. Andy decided, after we left, he too could have a gap year and caught up with me in Bali as Alison M left for Melbourne, boarding the Garuda flight Andy left, some 36 hours after he started

We joined Alison M 18 days later and started our first Australian adventure. After doing the Melbourne sights for a couple of weeks with Alison M’s lovely, hospitable, aunt and uncle, Andy drove us to Sydney where the three of us lived together for six months. Then Alison M, having decided she wanted to stay in Australia, took a proper job with an employer who would sponsor her for residency and Andy and I set off on our first Australian road trip through the red centre taking in Adelaide, Coober Pedy, Ayres Rock, Alice Springs, Tenant Creek, Mount Isa, Townsville, Cairns and many points in between. Our return from Queensland to Sydney was rapid, necessitated by getting back to New South Wales for the car registration renewal and the need for me to leave the country to validate the next leg of my “round the world” air ticket, 12 months after leaving London. Indeed I had to leave before Andy who stayed in Sydney to sell the car and caught up with me in New Caledonia for the long return home (my gap year was 16 months!). We had a fabulous road trip and felt then it would not be the last

Alison M remained in Sydney, gained her residency, met Roberto and the rest is . . . . We have spent two holidays with them in Australia subsequent to our gap year (as well as holidays in other parts of the globe) but never in Western Australia or the Northern Territory 

The current trip: we agreed, while in India last autumn, that winter (southern hemisphere) 2019 would see us doing a road trip from Perth, WA to Darwin, NT.  The minimum road distance (which we will not be taking as it cuts off most of the interesting part of the WA coast!) is 4,041 Ks; our minimum route is probably at least a thousand more; the minimum time people take do this whilst still experiencing something of the country is 21 days. We decided seven weeks would be about right to not spend too much of every day in the vehicle and to be able to pause and experience as much as we want to. Hey we are retired, we have the time, there are over 100 national parks in WA alone and lots of beach based things to do

Alison M and Roberto did the research. The 4WD vehicle with camping facilities was booked for collection 2nd July. Andy and I spent two days in Perth catching up with Cheltenham friend Tony Bennett and his wife Lucia. Good locals, they did not let a cold, wet Sunday dampen our spirits or our first experience of Perth and lunch at Cottesloe beach was followed by a walk round Fremantle and drinks at Elizabeth Quay

The next day was bright and sunny, Perth showed itself as an Australian City like it should be with blue skies and gleaming water. Tony took us for a great walk at Point Walter and we got a little over-excited at our first pelican and dolphin sighting of the trip!

Alison M and Roberto arrived that afternoon and we ate a fabulous dinner in a restaurant housed in the former treasury building, with much chat about what lies ahead

The road trip begins: the following day we collect the truck (it is a Toyota Land Cruiser Prado, diesel and automatic for anyone interested) and are talked through its features and how the camping gear works. The depot is about 20 Ks north of Perth. The strong advice is to stay very local the first night to check everything that should be on board is and that it all works. By sheer happy coincidence the parents of Andy’s former secretary Angela live 5 Ks away, have a smallholding and in arranging to visit them we are invited to set up camp, stay overnight and see how it fits together

The Vou family were marvelously welcoming and hospitable. Great food, far too much red wine for Andy and a night in the tents: Alison M and Roberto in the roof top tent with a built in mattress, Andy and I in the annexe at ground level on camp beds. It was bloody freezing!!!!

A glorious morning, and for Andy a bad hangover, saw us packing up and setting off, bidding a fond and grateful farewell to Adam and Eleni. We are laden with oranges, lemons, limes, passion fruit and avocado from their orchard as we head north . . . . .

Until next time, g’day to you all

ALISON 

INDIAN ROADS

One’s first road journey in India following, as it usually does, a tiring and extended plane ride, is likely to be an eye opening (or, more accurately, an eye closing) experience for the newly arrived visitor. One is immediately hit by the cacophony of noise from the incessant hooting of horns and the Indian drivers’ ability to create 8 lanes out of three. 

In the UK, such profligate use of the horn would be accompanied by bursts of expletives and much waving of hands indicating the offending drivers’ solitary sexual proclivities. In India, by contrast, there is no road rage (subject to one exception which I will come to later). Each carving up, pushing in, frantic tooting is rewarded with an expressionless acceptance that “this is how it is” if you live in a country with 1.3 billion people. If someone is really unhappy there might be a slight, almost imperceptible, shrug of the shoulders but there is seldom any malice in it. This lack of anger is, in part, due to the complete lack of any rules and the absence of a police force that anyone takes seriously. This has resulted in an apparently self regulating system which for the most part, astonishingly, works. Toots are to advise your fellow road users that you are there, that you are undertaking or overtaking, that you have some regard for their paintwork but not very much. 

The Indian driver is simultaneously the best and the worst in the world. They will use every nanometre of space on the road in order to gain the slightest advantage over the driver in front who, incidentally, will usually co- operate in this exercise by slowing down/ driving off the road etc. Any advantage is usually eroded fairly quickly by a variety of obstacles, some natural (usually cows and goats) and some artificial (barriers/speed bumps). The former are truly free range and can be encountered anywhere. The latter are helpfully located by the local authorities or police force to cause maximum discomfort/danger. 

Of course, most travellers will have heard stories of trucks driving the wrong way down dual carriageways, of herds of cows and goats on the motorway and of motorways that suddenly become dirt tracks for a few miles and then miraculously reappear. Well, you shouldn’t believe everything you hear but, on this occasion, rest assured, that it is all true. 

Roundabouts. I have always thought that roundabouts are a brilliant invention to regulate traffic at junctions and, indeed, they are unless you reverse the priority so that traffic coming onto the roundabout has right of way.   This adjustment to the commonsensical is illustrated most terrifyingly when local buses, usually red, approach a roundabout at speed with horn blaring loudly to advise that the bus driver has absolutely no intention of slowing down, let alone giving way, to those already circumnavigating the roundabout. In any event, regardless of one’s proximity to a roundabout, always give any bus a wide berth as all buses in India are driven by psychopaths with the grinning visages of the clinically insane. 

Bikes. If you are tempted by the prospect of riding the open road on your silver machine with your best girl’s legs wrapped around your engines, think again. Bikers are the lowest of the low ranking somewhere below pie dogs, goats, cows and pedestrians. There is no animosity toward bikers but you will be regarded by other drivers as an obstacle and your job is to drive as close to the left side of the road as possible and, if all else fails in the pursuit of accident avoidance, to drive off the road into the field, ditch, open sewer etc. 

Road rage. Nobody gets road rage in India until an accident has actually happened. Once it has occurred the rage is loud, rancorous and occasionally violent. It can go on for a long time. 

Overtaking. Tailgating is an art form on the Indian sub continent so, on single lane roads, overtaking is achieved by pulling out from behind the vehicle in front. If you are still alive, you will apply slight pressure to the accelerator so that you are going marginally faster than the overtakee, who is expected to adjust their speed so that, after negotiating a few blind bends in each other’s company, you will have a sufficient speed advantage to complete the manoeuvre.  You are then free to apply the brakes sharply and pull in violently to the roadside to negotiate the purchase of a coconut or two.

Indicators. A flashing left indicator can mean one of three things:

1. I am turning left or pulling in to the kerb;
2. I know your are there so please overtake me;
3. I am turning right. 

A flashing right indicator usually means that the driver has forgotten that his indicator is on but could mean that he is turning right. Treat with caution. 

Just because a truck is coming at you in the opposite direction does not necessarily mean you are going to hit it. You usually don’t. 

If you have been sensible enough to hire a driver, do not be surprised by the array of “ta das” and other random noises  emanating from his (it will be a him not a her) mobile phone. You might be forgiven for thinking that he is playing a new video game but do not panic it will be his sat nav, boss or wife calling. 

Traffic calming. You will find the occasional barrier placed along what might, in the west, be called the slow lane and, er, … the fast lane. These are usually encountered just after you have endured a two hour traffic jam, are finally on a clear stretch of road and humming gaily to oneself about life on the open road. Some drivers will slow appropriately and negotiate the obstacle in a reasonable fashion. Others will see it as an opportunity not to be missed, drop down a gear and mash the accelerator pedal to the floor in order to overtake several vehicles just before the “chicane” which has obviously been placed there precisely to facilitate that manoeuvre. 

These barriers are not illuminated but you might have a chance of spotting them in daylight hours. Less so at night on an unlit dual carriageway. They often bear helpful slogans such as “Donate blood.  But not on our highway”. I suspect the irony is lost on those who put them there. Speed bumps can also surprise the over confident driver as these are often found in places where one would not have thought them necessary. A motorway, for example. 

Hospitals are few and far between and not immediately obvious. As all health care in India is private, hospitals apparently feel the need to advertise their existence such that often, road barriers emblazoned with  appropriate banners are put by hospitals in the most incongruous places to advise you that they are nearby just in case you should, for example, have the misfortune to crash into a barrier on the highway. You cannot fault the marketing abilities of the Indian medical profession.  I  would guess that most hospitals have a disproportionately high percentage of patients from the two wheeled community –  and their extended families who were travelling with them at the time. 

To summarise. If you decide to drive in India, do so with your eyes wide open. Alternatively, hire a driver and keep them tightly shut. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

So, Alison, next trip to India … a self drive motorbike tour around Rajasthan? Bring it on. 

Until then, Namaste. 

ANDY

DELHI

– the pivot of our trip thanks to the generous hospitality of our friends and London neighbours Ravleen and Amo and their son Josh. India as at least a holiday to visit them, and possibly as our first retirement destination, was hatched as a plan at their farewell party in the de Beauvoir Arms in January 2016. We were not sure when we would be retiring but Amo has a 3 – 4 year posting to the British High Commission in Delhi. As it turned out, India is our first retirement trip

We stayed with Ravleen and Amo in the diplomatic quarter of New Delhi, a very gentle and civilised introduction as I mentioned in blog no. 1. We also stayed with them either side of our trip to Agra – after which we bid farewell to Alison M and Roberto – and we had a few days exploring: Connaught Place, India Gate, the National Gallery of Modern Art, Indira Gandhi’s house (now a memorial museum), Lodi Gardens. We even went to a street of interiors shops looking at (but not finding) a rug for our Folkestone dining room. Transportation was a mix of Uber, tuk tuk and the metro, the latter was clean, cheap and fast and when we travelled it not crowded. We were surprised and impressed

The National Gallery of Modern Art is housed in a former palace, light and airy and the history of Indian art from the 1850s to present day is laid out chronologically. After a class of school kids disappeared we had the the place to ourselves – such luxury! The art was, as one would expect, varied and variably challenging. Our guide book said photography prohibited, the museum permitted it, so we photographed a few instant favourites as keepsakes

• 

• 

• 

• 

Indira Gandhi’s home is a museum of her life and family and i found it very moving (I have no photographs – photography forbidden). The place where she was assassinated, in the garden, is marked by a crystal walkway. Our guide book describes the family as “India’s Kennedys” – a description with resonance, so much political ambition, so much death

A walk round Lodi Gardens in the late afternoon was a delight. Trees filled with kites, atmospheric tombs and mosques, people promenading to take the relatively clean air

• 

• 

Pollution in Delhi is a serious problem. It was so bad around Diwali that fireworks were banned. As the air cools in the winter months it becomes worse, at times the air quality is so poor that official government advice is to stay inside and construction is halted . . . at least on publicly funded and high profile projects. We were lucky during our several days stay over three periods – the air quality was not at dangerous levels and it was pretty pleasant walking around

The evening before we flew to Darjeeling we met Karen and Richard Lintern for dinner, the first evening of their trip and a valiant effort on their part as they arrived that day and had already visited the mosque and fort in Old Delhi and the bazaar . . . We dined in splendour at Indian Accent after Ravleen secured us a table and we failed to record the meeting in a photograph. We have promised to catch up in London to compare notes, unless the as yet unplanned part of Andy’s and my trip mean we cross paths later (blog no. 19 discloses we did!)

Our return from the south, from Kochi, gave us one full day to explore further before the flight home. There is much still not visited in New Delhi but we felt compelled to visit Old Delhi, to have a taste of Indian life outside the genteel diplomatic and wealthy quarters. an Uber to the metro station, a ride on a clean and empty train, and we emerged into the mayhem we had grown accustomed to when travelling in Rajasthan. It was cool – mid December nearly – but clear skied and sunny. The streets were once again a riot of noise, carts, cycle rickshaws, people, cables, animals and rubbish. I loved it. I think I have become acclimatised. It was a very comfortable temperature to walk around and we bought hand made paper (if I lived here a would have a cupboard full, on the other hand if I lived here I would not need a cupboard full!). It was from one shop on a street of many and varied stationers. The wooden fittings were beautiful and the owners allowed us to ignore the very obvious “no photographs” signs and even instructed one of their boys to take our picture

• 

We visited the Jama Masjid mosque, the Red Fort. The mosque complex is huge and it seems very much a part of Old Delhi life: its inner courtyard a place to take a break and have lunch even for those not praying. The sky overhead was filled with black kites

• 

• 

• 

• 

A walk through Chandni Chowk was colourful and noisy with tempting textiles, jewels and flowers (all resisted!)

• 

• 

• 

And then to the Red Fort. Alison M and I visited in May 1985 but gave up – too busy, too dirty, too hot. In the cooler December air it was spectacular and enjoyable to walk round and imagine life in the fortress under Shah Jahan, whose tenure was brief, and his son Aurangzeb (Shah Jahan founded the fort but family betrayal and rivalry was settled when Aurangzeb had him imprisoned instead at Agra Fort)

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We ended our day in Old Delhi looking for Skinner House, where our lovely friend Bella (whose 90th birthday we celebrated a couple of days before leaving for India) grew up. We knew its approximate location near St James’ Church and had a picture from a news article about it in 2013 but failed to find it, and although we asked a couple of local shop keepers and residents they were unable to help. It would have been a fitting end to the day to be able to photograph it and show them to Bella but it was not to be

Our last evening and a fantastic meal at Bukhara, Christmas decorations abound. Are we ready to go home? Probably not, there is so much more to explore. Are we happy to go home? Most definitely. Although we have been away just over nine weeks it  feels like we have had little more than a taster and that India is a country which will keep on giving. We discuss a possible itinerary for a future trip: Mumbai, Pondicherry, Kochi biennale, another great national park . . . . 

With a final word of thanks to Ravleen and Amo (in their absence – Ravleen already in London, Amo in Mumbai for work – we have their apartment to ourselves our last night) we bid au revoir to India and fly home. Stand out memories: the colours, the mighty forts, amazing temples, the noise, the smells, the people, the birds, camels, elephants and of course the wonderful tiger, the list is long

Until next time, Namaste 

ALISON

KERALA

We left Nagarahole by car and headed for Marari beach at Mararikulam in Kerala’s north. It was a long drive – 11 hours including a few short stops: to admire the view of the western ghats as we descended through 29 hairpin bends and the cheeky macaques populating the area, roadside tea, our driver stopping to pray, lunch (samosa and tea for us, beef and rice for him, only available in a Muslim cafe), roadside coconut type fruit of the Palmyra tree – munjal – with a jelly like flesh

• 

• 

• 

• 

The landscape remains tropical jungle, and is lush and verdant with rice paddies and coconut groves. The roads are generally good for the first several hours and everything looks clean although there is still visible evidence of the after effects of the terrible August flooding (monsoon rains and landslides). It was actually fascinating until the last three hours when dusk fell and we could see little and then hit terrible traffic and road works in Kochi. We were relieved to reach the resort we had booked as a holiday at the end of the trip where we were warmly welcomed and shown our bungalow. I was immediately impressed with the four varieties of loose Darjeeling and Munar tea and ground Coorg coffee available. I was then shocked that because it was the first of the month and as such a – government decreed – alcohol free day the restaurant could not serve us a beer with our late supper. Rather sweetly the staff assured us we could drink from the minibar (in fact we didn’t, the moment had passed)!

The resort grounds are beautiful and the resident naturalist available to take us on a guided tour to see the birds, explore the butterfly garden and learn something of the trees. The bird life was prolific but our absolute favourites are the owlets. A breeding pair and three chicks. Soooo photogenic. There were also scops and barn owls as well as kites, sunbirds, egrets, magpie robins and  – somewhat surprisingly to us – lots and lots of crows

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Good food (lots of fish curries and grilled marinated fish), excellent swimming, in pool and sea, and nothing more culturally demanding than a cycle round the local villages (a very hot and humid cycle!) it really was a proper holiday within our trip. Tea was served every afternoon for an hour from 4 o’clock out of the most beautiful 19th Century cart, usually with a local biscuit or cake in which coconut featured largely

• 

• 

• 

The holiday atmosphere was much enhanced by an evening with the Linterns (Karen, my former partner and her husband Richard) who were spending the last few nights of their Indian sojourn at a sister resort to ours but on the lagoon. We had  joined them for dinner in Delhi on the night they arrived and before we went to Darjeeling and thought that we would not see them again as we had not then known where we would be towards the end of our trip as theirs concluded. We compared notes where our journeys had been the same and respective high and low lights and drank gin, white wine and ate fish. . . . . 

• 

It was also our only excursion to the famous Kerala lagoon, I was savaged by mosquitos the following day and although not on the lagoon at the time of the savaging i could not face it – something for another time

Relaxed, refreshed and ready for some more India we left the beach and went to Fort Kochi. A not yet well restored tumble down city, formerly a famous and important trading port which survived Portuguese, Dutch and British eras, embracing their architecture and quite a lot of Christianity. We walked extensively, it is very scenic and in the spice warehouses very appealingly aromatic. The town feels tropical and is clean and the most hassle was from tuk tuk drivers desperate to sell us a tour, incredulous of our desire to walk. As the guide book says, it was interesting watching the fish being landed and the Chinese fishing nets are very atmospheric. There are enormous rain trees in the leafy square and families promenading. Apart from fish the town spice basis informs its eating and drinking, ginger and cinnamon in particular and I am now a big fan of ginger tea

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

I discover that the Kochi Biennale starts the day we leave. Bad timing! We saw venues being readied and one or two installations. It runs for about three months so again, something for another time

Our last internal flight takes us back to Delhi for our last couple of days. Until then, Namaste 

ALISON

KARNATAKA

We decided that after Darjeeling we would travel south, to experience a different part of India and have some beach time – it has been quite a year. Andy was keen to visit another national park after our glorious time in Ranthambore, and there are several to chose from. We narrowed it to plan A: Mysuru (Mysore); Kodagu (Coorg); Hampi and Dandeli then somewhere in Goa; or plan B: Mysuru, Coorg, Nagarahole and then a beach in Kerala and Fort Kochi

Plan B won, Nagarahole looks more accessible, visitable and with more accommodation options than Dandeli. We will save that, and Hampi, for another time

We flew in to Bangalore, a shiny modern very clean airport. Found our car and driver and headed south. Instant difference: no horns blaring, white lines, road discipline . . . . Which continued pretty much for the four hour drive. The weather was warm, high 20s, even as we arrived in Mysore at 10pm. 

With two full days to explore we decided on one day in town and one day for surrounding areas. The city is an interesting mix of old and new. A very vibrant traditional market full of food, incense, paints and spices; lots of produce being sold from street stalls/pavement baskets, relatively low hassle and we had an entertaining time buying some handmade incense (I will post the video separately)

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Modern shops and coffee bars nestle amongst some crumbling Raj architecture and everywhere looks pretty clean. We are repeatedly told that Mysuru is India’s second cleanest town but googling to find out the identity of the cleanest it appears that Mysuru currently holds that spot, and the cleanliness is apparent although we still traverse the occasional open sewer and pass the detritus of every day life. The city looks and feels quite prosperous, less evidence (visible to us anyway) of pavement dwelling than we have seen elsewhere

The must see is the Mysore Palace. Relatively new, constructed in many styles in 1912, it is now owned by the state government and is an enthralling, photogenic visit, a glorious example of complete over-the-top-because-we-can construction and decoration. It reminds me of Brighton Pavilion. We also read that the local royal family have lodged a court claim for its return . . . 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

A hot and fairly humid walk round town looking for a good place to buy coffee beans completed our tour of the city and we ended our afternoon in the roof top pool of our modern hotel watching kites fly overhead and from the decking monkeys gambolling in the tree tops. Our wildlife experience continued at the rather smart restaurant we went to for dinner, on the edge of the city. It was all very lovely, roofed but open sided, gently lit and with a breeze. I noticed across from our table a creature I claimed as our first mongoose. Andy highly dubious but not wanting to alarm me suggested that was unlikely but no more. Subsequent internet research identified it as a  bandicoot rat. It was huge, and not at all mongoose like but did neither did it move like any scuttling rat I have seen

A tour with a car and driver of sights outside the city the next day was a mix of nature and culture.  A bird reserve on a lake, filled with crocodiles and surrounded with lush gardens. We particularly enjoyed the roosting pelicans but there were many other species

• 

• 

• 

• 

Then a tour of Tipu Sultan’s summer palace and mausoleum. He was known as the Tiger of Mysore and tried hard to rid India of the British but met his end in 1799 when the future Duke of Wellington defeated him in battle. We had seen, not long before our trip and without knowing we would be in Karnataka, “Tipu’s Tiger” at the V&A. It was fascinating to see the tiger motif in huge evidence at his summer palace, which is extraordinary, all wood – teak – and highly decorated, in shady formal gardens. It is astonishing that the palace has withstood the climate and is so well preserved

• 

• 

• 

• 

The Gumbaz mausoleum was built by Tipu Sultan to commemorate his father, another great warrior, Haider Ali, and to hold his own tomb. It’s a beautiful place of granite and marble and was festive on the day we visited

• 

• 

• 

• 

Our cultural tour concluded with a visit to the exquisite Keshava Vishnu Temple in Somnathapur. All greys and blacks and made of stone, granite and marble the colonnades and carvings were mesmerizing, and the stones hot underfoot

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

The drive back to Mysore was beautiful in the afternoon light, paddy fields, coconut palms and king coconut to drin

• 

• 

• 

We have enjoyed Mysuru and its surrounds very much. The climate is tropical, hot and humid. The landscape lush and verdant, people are friendly and there is much less noise, much less pollution than we found in the north. It is a great contrast to the desert cities and the mighty and majestic forts of Rajasthan and the religious focus of Haridwar and Amritsar 

Our next destination, Coorg, is chosen for coffee (after tea in Darjeeling). A couple of hours west of Mysuru and in rolling hills (our guide book says rugged mountains but they appear much more gentle than that), coffee plantations and the river Kaveri. We can see why our friend Ravleen told us Coorg is known as the Tuscany of India – it has scattered villas and hotels, is easily accessible from Bangalore and Mysore, good food and an agreeable climate with cooler evenings and nights. 

We are expecting walking trails and fresh air and find both, along with a tour of a coffee plantation and a river walk involving nine islands and some slippery rocks

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

The hotel grounds were beautiful and a naturalist on hand to identify birds and trees. The chef, with whom we chatted a lot, is from Kerala but had worked in London for eight years latterly at The Wolseley. His local food was very good

It was probably our most restful few days so far, we felt indolent and overfed! We loved the pool. The only “cultural” activity was an evening in the hotel amphitheatre as outdoor cinema (that sounds grander than it is) watching “The Mummy Returns”, with fellow Indian guests, cold beers and a blazing bonfire in a fire pit. Hilariously stupid but enjoyable under a blanket of stars. We had to find the amphitheatre the next day as we had seen it only in the dark . . .

• 

• 

• 

Next to Nagarahole and the national park, staying in a tented camp which also houses a horse and donkey sanctuary, on the side of a lake

• 

• 

A different safari experience from Ranthambore, here there are no private safaris, they are government run on 4WD buses seating about 20 – ours was noisy, not necessarily conducive to good animal spotting. The big draws are elephant, tiger and leopard. It is a vast area with a national road running through it and a village strung along a river – perilous living! Quite flat, densely treed, very beautiful. We saw some great birds and beasts and  – how lucky are we – the third tiger of our trip, but no leopard

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We also took a boat safari, astonishingly lovely on the lake, beautiful birds and a glorious open landscape. We were only five: one serious twitcher who logged everything he saw, and a keen photographer and his assistant, all three local tourists. The below are a few highlights weeded from many more

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

What a great several days Karnataka has been and what a contrast to the northern deserts and cold of Darjeeling. Looking at the photographs again now, at a distance of some three months, I am captured again by the colours and textures, built and natural beauty that we saw throughout

Next stop, Kerala. Until then, Namaste 

ALISON 

DARJEELING 

After saying good bye to Alison M and Roberto we had a few days in Delhi, of which more subsequently, and spent some time planning the rest of our trip. We got as far as next destination and “plan A” or “plan B” – the plans differed by which national park in the south we should visit and what else to build around that. Our next destination, Darjeeling, involved our first internal flight – all very easy, and included a view of Everest – and a taxi ride of some two and a half hours climbing from the hot and steamy plains to the settlement east of the Himalayas at just over 2,000m. It was a colourful ride, with steep hairpin bends, changing vegetation and close encounters with the historic steam railway track

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Alison M and I were in Darjeeling in June 1985 and remember being enchanted: largely wooden buildings and also a good smattering of Victorian style architecture from its days as a hill station, friendly people of Nepalese/Tibetan extraction, clean cool air, emerald green tea plantations and holidaying Indians escaping the pre-monsoon oppressive heat of the northern plains, the women dressed in colourful saris with knitted woolly cardigans over them, eating ice creams and promenading between the view points. Our disappointment was that, pre-monsoon the not so distant Himalayas were resolutely cloud covered and we never got even a peak of Kanchenjunga, the third highest peak in the world and second highest in India. Would Andy and I be luckier?

We arrived at dusk and were underwhelmed by our heritage hotel – shabby and cold. The lounge open fire of the website had been replaced with an electric one and all doors where open to the street, presumably to appear welcoming and obviously open, but the temperature was a chilly eight centigrade, a shock to our systems after more than five weeks of high 20s. My impromptu purchase of thermals at the M&S outlet at Delhi airport (!) proved very justified. We explored a little in the dark and had supper at a Sri Lanka institution: Glenarry’s, food more Chinese/Tibetan than Indian. It had an open fire and a local singer with a playlist from the seventies, served hot whisky/rum toddies and was buzzy

The next morning dawned cloudy and cold. We walked the high ridges of the town on one side of the valley, marveling at the women hefting huge quantities of bricks and other building materials. I wanted to find the view point I remembered so well from ‘85 (just in case) but it was not obvious and the town appears much expanded with many block and concrete buildings and traffic choked, with hefty four wheel drives. We visited the Happy Valley tea plantation on the other side of the valley, walking alongside the women pickers (where are all the men?) and sampled tea at the estate and then drank and bought tea at a little cafe at its gates, run by an eccentric women who beckoned us in, made tea with great ceremony and sold us tea but then would not let us take photographs and asked us not to talk of her in the town and told us if we were asked by anyone as we left if we had bought tea to say we had not. Our inevitable conclusion – we had purchased stolen goods!

We walked back through the town, fume ridden, traffic choked and noisy with blaring horns. There is an enormous market and we wonder who buys it all – so much perishable foodstuff and so much more stuff of every description. My purchase was a woolly hat, Andy’s some roasted nuts

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We headed to the railway station and bought tickets for a trip to Ghum and back the following day, inspecting the carriages and rail-sleeping dogs

• 

• 

• 

After a supper of Tibetan momo (a type of dumpling – delicious) and noodles our first day left us a little disappointed. The town makes you work hard to uncover its charms and the people, though friendly are not warm and appear very self contained, and there is little willingness to engage, although the upside of that is that there is no hassle – to buy, have a selfie . . . 

The next day again dawned cloudy and was, unsurprisingly, cold. We headed to the railway station and again admired the locomotives and carriages. The journey was a hoot. By local standards the tickets are expensive so it seems only used by tourists. It rattled along its narrow gauge blasting cars, people, dogs off its track and belching soot. A stop at the Batasia Loop to admire the engineering skill that created it was in a lovely garden. Then off again to Ghum and the railway museum. The big views constrained because of cloud but it was a great experience

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

An afternoon drinking and buying tea, more momo and noodles for dinner

Our last full day again dawned cloudy and cold. We walked the high ridge and along The Mall and the sun broke through and as we rounded a bend, there it was, almost looking like cloud in a blue sky but definitely Kanchenjunga. The atmosphere of the town changed completely, or perhaps it was just our perception, but it made perfect sense being in Darjeeling! 

• 

We walked in sunshine under blue skies to a park and garden with great views. To a casual observer these mountains may look like clouds but they really are Himalayas!

• 

• 

• 

• 

After falling into conversation with a local guide who, although disappointed to learn we have a flight booked south tomorrow and he could not take us on a five day Himalayas trek, recommended we visit the zoo which is doing great conservation work. Well it had not been on our to do list but it was a glorious day to be outside so we went and loved it. Beautiful location, filled with excited local families, all the specimens looked extremely happy and unstressed and were obligingly outside and visible, beautiful cats big and small, wolves looking just like my sister Becky’s dog, great bears, adorable red panda . . . . 

• 

• 

• 

Our final morning dawned blue skied and crystal clear, there was even a great mountain view from our shabby hotel dining room!

• 

A taxi back down the mountain with great views all the way and the temperature steadily rising. All in all a good and worthwhile trip and I am soooo glad we saw Kanchenjunga!

Until next time, namaste

ALISON

AGRA 

We left Amritsar for Delhi by train. Our fifth and (as it turned out) our final train of this trip. A day time journey of sixish hours (which became eight) the train started in Amritsar but ended in Calcutta so was again set up as a sleeper. This time it had a first class section so we experienced life in 1AC. It transpired at the station that our e-ticket had all the details except our actual coach and berth numbers – we were assisted by a volunteer scoutmaster (he seemed to be at the station as a volunteer for such a purpose) and a man from the railway who managed to locate our booking in his records. It also transpired that although the first class carriages – modern, clean, spacious, highly air conditioned – are a self contained unit of four berths we were spilt into two different ones and the other seats in both were booked from the next major station two down the line. The anticipated long game of rummy, and more importantly planning our next adventure as a four (Alison M and Roberto’s India trip is drawing to a close) was frustrated

Arrival at Old Delhi station was chaotic but we managed to locate the exit, find a cab and head for a brief overnight stay at Ravleen and Amo’s with a dinner of shepherd’s pie, cooked specially by Ravleen who felt sure we would need edible home comforts after nearly five weeks on the road and rail. It was delicious

Our decision to visit Agra had only crystallised a few days earlier. After Amritsar, Alison M & Roberto have three nights and were undecided about exploring Delhi or hitting Agra. I was ambivalent about Agra – Alison M and I were there 33 years ago and remember the town as hassle filled, the Taj Mahal in poor condition and stinky (inside – of piss). But how could we be in India and Roberto and Andy not see it? Plus with age and cash we have a car and driver and a very civilised hotel for our overnight stop (thanks Mehma for that tip)

We set off early the next morning fortified by Ravleen and Amo’s hospitality and relieved of all our luggage except an overnight bag. Our programme: Day 1: Fatehpur Sikri and Itimad-Ud-Daulah tomb (the “Baby Taj”). Day 2: the Taj Mahal and the Fort

Fatehpur Sikri, an ancient Mughal capital west of Agra, a fort with a mosque and three palaces. What’s not to like? Well we didn’t like it much to begin with. Choosing to walk the kilometre or so from the car park rather than use the shuttle tourist bus we ran the gamut of their stall holders, pony and trap and rickshaw drivers, random guides – all hassling severely to buy/ride/use (maybe we should have got the bus!). Because of the Mosque the entire complex, from the top of the steps to the main gate, is shoes off but when we chose to carry ours (to exit by a different gate/route), as many others were doing, the guy drumming up business for a really young kid who would “guard” the shoes for a few rupees took offence and when we insisted and walked in accused Roberto and Andy of not respecting his religion. Particularly irritating to Roberto who with Alison M had been in Iran for eight days before they joined us. Anyway, shaking off the irritation, and the guy, the fort complex slowly worked its charms. There was not much internal decoration left but the complex is vast, the mosque architecturally beautiful and different from the Rajasthani ones, the sandstone glorious, the gardens restored and there were parakeets

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Lunch (a restaurant we were dropped at by our driver which was full of tourists but to our relief served excellent veg curries and tandoor chicken) and then a slow trawl through traffic choked Agra to the Baby Taj. At one point we thought we might not make it before it closed for the evening but we made it and it was pretty empty and absolutely beautiful. Our guidebook describes it as exquisite and it is, built as a tomb for Mumtaz Mahal’s grandfather by his daughter, first Mughal building completely of marble. It was serene, glorious and we saw it at sunset

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Our penultimate evening together saw us dining – and drinking champagne (thanks A & R!) – on the rooftop bar of the Radisson Blu, with a view of the Taj Mahal – which we could not really make out because of the haze and the fact it is not floodlit. It still felt like a special place

We decided against the 4 am start for the Taj visit, partly because of the forecast smog, partly because none of us none of us could face it. We arrived there at 8.30 a.m. as the sun was up and in fact the queue to enter was very short and apart from the walk from the road to the gate (boys selling snow domes mostly) we were completely unhandled. It is glorious. Ethereal, beautiful. So very different from my 1985 memories: gardens restored, building cleaned and robbed semiprecious stones replaced. Built as a tomb and memorial for his third (and favourite) wife Mumtaz Mahal by Shah Jahan it seems to us serene and rather wonderful. We are all very happy we came

We walk up to the tomb enjoying the famous views (and a selfie on the “Diana” bench)

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We visit the marble tomb, then the sandstone mosque and jawab (identically constructed), we admire the minarets and the views and ignore the polluted, dirty Yamuna river. We watch monkeys frolicking in the tank – jumping, diving, swimming. And we walk through the gardens and spot Barbet and Indian grey hornbills 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We decide to abandon the proposed visit to Agra Fort and instead visit a sloth bear sanctuary about a mile out of Agra on the old road to Delhi. It is located inside a bird sanctuary and was set up by a charity, wildlifeSoS, to house rescued (“emacipated”) dancing bears. We are shown round by one of the permanent staff, and the fascinating, and cruel, history of dancing bears is explained to us together with the work which has been undertaken of re-education of the bear keepers and finding them alternative livelihoods. Apparently the last two known dancing bears had been acquired by the organisation very recently in Nepal, one remaining in a sanctuary there and one had arrived in Agra the previous night. Photographs are discouraged but we were invited to take a few of a couple of the residents

• 

• 

• 

The bears will live out their days at the sanctuary and WildlifeSoS are adapting for other creatures including elephants (on another site), big cats and snakes. Again the previous night they had been called to a leopard hit by a car outside Agra Fort, we were amazed any wild cat would venture into such a heavily urban and traffic ridden area

We return to Delhi very satisfied with our Agra trip and had another evening of great hospitality at Ravleen’s

Alison M and Roberto’s last day – what to do – shopping and lunch! A chilled last day for them, and we waved a sad farewell as they left for the airport.

We now have our next four weeks to plan. But that is for another time

Until then, Namaste

ALISON