Departure from India: Saying goodbye to Kolkata, flying via Kerala, and finding myself naked in a room with 2 local middle aged women for a third time

Many of you will know, Matt and Pat (my two brothers) make up two of the three most important men in my life; the third is a ginger haired man who is to blame for the nose and the unfortunate colour of my unborn children's hair. When I said my farewells to them back in November, over 160days ago, I never anticipated another goodbye like it. However saying goodbye to my family of brothers and friends I've found in Kolkata proved equally as tough. Getting on the plane to leave Kolkata genuinely felt like I was tearing a piece of me apart. But I know for sure I'll be back. Kolkata feels like my second home and Future Hope has firmly secured itself a big piece of my heart.

My Ballygunge brothers

Kerala provided some slight relief from the heat and humidity of Kolkata. With my new fresh faced saga-club travel companions (mum and Ian) we touched down in Trivendruim, beginning our 12 day trip.

Mum and Ian in their first ever tuk tuk

Watching India through the fresh eyes of Mum and Ian was quite a giggle. While Ian squirmed each time our tuk tuk came within inches of other vehicles, mum took a bit of time to adjust to the Indian males' attitudes; even educated states like Kerala appear to place women as second class citizens. Meal times were a whole new adventure. Ian struggles with even peppery food, so when we ordered a chilli-infused double fry mutton dish, just sniffing the meat got him perspiring!

Ian's stomach didn't always agree with the local cuisine.

We started with 2 days relaxing by an empty pool before heading to the tip of India at Kanyamari. The 24 hours spent there were quite poignant, the end of India and the end of my trip.

Colourful fruits of Kerala. My favourite - red bananas!

Kerala is famous for its back waters and its tea plantations, both things we wanted to taste. From Kollam we took an overnight stay in a traditional Keralan house boat. Being British you would have  thought we'd check the weather. We'd assumed the Indian sun would be out blasting us like it had on all previous days, however the torrential down pour and vicious thunder storms took us by surprise. The ducks loved it though. Late in the afternoon we hoped into small canoe, accessing the smaller canals. The vessel was similar to a punt though the guide was less than impressed with my attempt of driving. The highlight had to be seeing a water snake, my first wild snake in India.

Tamil Nadu border in amongst the tea plantations. Mum and Ian took the constant fashion theme of Brits on African Safari. 

Munnar, up in the hills provided a much needed break from the heat. More beautiful than Darjeeling, the endless tea plantations and lush green forests created a patch work like quilt across the Tamil Nadu border. The sunset over the mountains was one of my more colourful.

Sunset over the Munnar Mountains

Our final stop was Marari Beach, a tiny undiscovered fishing village with a deserted white sandy beach. In other words, paradise. The final 4 of my 160 days saw me throw my conservative clothing and attitude into my bag and finally sit on a towel in an appropriately small amount of clothing, my last attempt to come home looking like an Indian. 

Deserted Marari Beach at sunset

Wanting to finish off my experience authentically, mum and I went for a traditional aruveydic massage with an 80 year old male doctor. For such a conservative country, particularly when it comes to women's clothing and covering up, I seem to have all too often found myself completely naked in a room with two local women. Having signed some papers informing me I was to have a "GBM" - something I later found to imply Gross Bodily Molestation - I found myself in what looked like an old apothecary crossed with a medieval operating room. I was simply instructed "All off." Once I'd stripped under the watchful gaze of the women, I was given a cave man-esque handkerchief to cover what little was left of my dignity. Then the proceedings began.
First a head massage requiring my hair to be oiled and my head to be slapped like a fish. All this while sat bare on a hard back chair. After 5 minutes of this intriguing start, I was instructed to climb onto the operating table, still oily from the previous client. Luckily for me this was just my mother. The redundant handkerchief was again removed while I took up various lying positions: face down, sleep position on your side, and - most revealing - face up. The latter I felt I was being prepared for mummification. In all of the positions I had oily rubbed into every crevice by two pairs of hands, some areas normally regarded as intimate and private. This was not for the prudish! Face up, I found myself undergoing a thorough breast cancer check. Very odd. In the background the local hare Krishna group carried out their rehearsal and the coconut trees rustled. It was all very relaxing, well except for the quadruple-handed intimate rubbing part. 

Medieval oiled up massage bed

I thought oiling up would have been sufficient, however my two ladies, Bindu and Raju, took me to the shower room and told me to sit. I was then lathered up, hair washed, body rinsed and patted dry. I felt like an incapacitated mental health patient. Finally I was allowed to redress, still under the watchful eye of the masseuses. What did they think of my little white patches?!

So what have I learnt in my 5months of being bamboozled by India?

Smile.

Vivek (left) and Ranjit (right), two of my many new brothers

Patience, things in India (and the rest of the world) take time.

Appreciating being born into a society where women are treated like equals and given a choice!

There are a few more lessons but ask me in person if you're really interested, I'm not about to go all free soul and "changed person" over the internet.

Manchester Aiport Arrivals with Matt. The welcome home sign reads, "Kat Suddaby How was Prison?"

  I'll sign off with a quote from the father of India, Mahatma Ghandi, known as the India of his dreams. Although India is on the way to realising Ghandi's dream, there is still a little way to go:

I shall work for an India, in which the poorest 

shall feel that it is their country in whose making 

they have an effective voice; 

an India in which there shall be 

no high class and low class of people; 

an India in which all communities shall

 live in perfect harmony. 

There can be no room in such an India 

for the curse of untouchability or the curse 

of the intoxicating drinks and drugs. 

Women will enjoy the same rights as men. 

We shall be at peace with all 

the rest of the world. 

This is the India of my dreams

ABC: Annapurna Base Camp, Babu the extreme explorer, and Congestion in Kathmandu

A few hundred kilometres north of Kolkata lies Kathmandu and the Himilayan playground. Being so close to such incredible scenery and having had a taste during Christmas, Georgie, Willem and I booked ourselves a two week slot to venture into the Nepalese mountains.

On arrival into Kathmandu international airport, which itself looked like a small 1960s red brick garage block, we were informed over 250 peaks in Nepal are over 6000m high! Unfortunately final approach into Kathmandu was cloudy so the spectacular scenery stayed hidden under cloud.

Kathmandu, apparently the second most polluted city in the world, greeted us with a huge thunder storm and rain, two things I haven't seen for a good few months. The streets around the tourist area of Thamel are jammed together creating a real maze of almost entirely fake northface clothing, foreign exchange and travel and tour company stores.

With time against us we headed to Pokhara the following morning, 7 hours away by bus. Running round like headless chickens, we got ourselves cereal bar supplies and the two mandatory permits each costing NRS 2000 (£12.50). No one could explain why we had to purchase both or what the difference was, but my bargaining did get me a 1% discount and Georgie a marriage proposal. We headed up into the mountains with "Raju Daju" the taxi driver blaring the ever popular Hoeny Singh (the Indian Jay-Z) and found ourselves playing card games late into the night with two young brothers in the starting village of Phedi.

Setting out from Phedi

After a relatively small breakfast (our appetites increased exponentially from here on in) we started our first ascent: 500m straight up on unforgiving stairs. The rest of day 1 followed in a similar fashion interspersed with small children shouting "chocolate"  at us and the odd piece of spectacular scenery. We finished the day by rolling into a small village called Landruk where again my bargaining got us a room for free with views over looking Annapurna. Total ascent: 1030m. Total Descent: 370m.

The start of the trail and our first of many steep climbs.

Day 2 followed a the same up-down path with a highlight being a stop at the hot springs of Jihnu Danda after lunch. Unlike most others bathing in the pools, we hadn't really earned our muscle soak so continued on after lunch taking in a gruelling 300m ascent in 45mins.  Total ascent: 870m. Total Descent: 450m.

Day 3 saw  a welcome change in scenery. The unforgiving infinite steps gave way to forest paths, still on an incline. (We were about to ascend 2000m in 2 days!) We took in beautiful Himalayan villages including Bamboo and Dovan, pushing through the miserable torrential rain to a village called Himilaya. In hindsight it was possibly one of our worst decisions as Himilaya was one of the uglier stops of the day, relatively, and during the night a local creature decided to pay a visit to our room. We think a rat is the one to blame for the numerous nibble holes in our snack packages. The same rat is likely to be the thing that caused Georgie to wake up screaming, waking everyone else in the lodge through the paper-thin walls. And the third strike against the rat would be the excrement it left in my wash bag which I only discovered 2 days later thanks to the foul stench and strange brown/white smears all over my soaps, toothbrush and moisturiser!  Total ascent: 1040m. Total Descent: 510m.

A change in terrain.

Day 4 was the big push towards the top, taking a relatively short half day to MBC, Machhapuchhare Base Camp. We passed into snow fields within an hour of setting off, slowing the pace and making for some inpromptu skiing. We trekked over dodgy streams and avalanches, every so often hearing the worrying rumble of falling snow. We made it by lunch and set in for a relaxing afternoon anticipating a long day in the morning.  Total ascent: 860m. Total Descent: 0m.

Snowy conditions

Day 5 was one of my best. We got up at 4:30am to summit to ABC, Annapurna Base Camp, climbing over snow through the darkness, illuminated only by the moon and the odd head torch. The views were incredibly clear but the clouds soon set in as we demolished a double breakfast at the top. Back down the mountain valley we headed, trying to over take and avoid the long snaking chains of Asian tourists, all on package tours which required them to just carry small day packs and wear the appropriately branded "Malaysaion Invasion" t-shirts. Skiing back down with a few hairy moments, including crossing two fresh huge avalanche dumps, we some how made it back down to little Bamboo with our newly formed international trekking group, encompassing Dutch, French, Canadian, German and of course English. Total ascent: 430m. Total Descent: 1390m.

We made it! 6am in the morning.

Day 6 was a long hard push to the end. As we descended  the temperature climbed and saw my pasty legs finally get some mountain air! Three steep ascents each followed a long, hard descents. During the daily afternoon rain, old church songs reared their forgotten heads and I managed to stay in fairly high spirits. Having set off at 9am, Ghandruk couldn't have come quick enough as we rolled in at 6pm  Total ascent: 945m. Total Descent: 1070m.

A slice of the Annapurna range

Day 7 saw a huge final descent of 1000m almost all in one stint. Having had a long trek the day before, my knees were begging for the end. That, a hot shower, and some good food. Pokhara provided both, the latter in the form of some unidentified steak. The craziest evening followed where we met a man named Babu. Initially we presumed he was like all other Nepalese in Pokhara, out to make a small dollar out of the mountains
 We quickly realised he wasn't just any Nepalese man. He's summited Everest, breaking a world record for the highest paragliding flight at 8865m. He then proceeded to kayak from there to the Bay of Bengal, winning a National Geographic prize and a Red Bull Award in the process. We chatted for a few hours over steak fascinated by his stories. And to finish it off he then gave us a free t-shirt from his newly formed company. What a guy!

Babu and the steak house

The following days in Pokhara were much more relaxed, swimming  and enjoying the lake and spending time with our newly formed international group of Germans, Dutch, French and English. We rode the world's longest zip wire, reaching 140 kmph, probably less exciting than it sounds. The view was insane though.

We soon found ourselves heading back into then polluted and congested  Kathmandu, where the crammed lanes, street corner temples, and random stupas filled our remaining time in Nepal.

The chaos of the capital

I've already decided I'm coming back. Good food and incredible mountains make for my ideal sort of world. From Nepal I head back to Kolkata for a short 24hour stopover. I'll have the painful task of saying my goodbyes before heading to Kerala with my mum and Ian for a final two week exploration of a country that already feels like a second home.

My final week in Kolkata: Cricket, Rugby, Maharaja wedding venues, a place called Pandal, Old English Sports Days, an end of term school disco and Holi!!!

After our failed attempt to board a train to Varanasi, I embraced having an extra unexpected weekend in Kolkata and tried to make the most of my time with the students who have become my family.

Saturday saw me become the over enthusiastic sister supporter at a cricket match at CCFC (Calcutta Cricket Club). Future Hope made a valiant effort at defeating the ageing opposition, but lost by 1 run with two bowls remaining of their opponent's innings. (They scored 160 off 25 overs, CCFC managed 161 off 24.4 overs). Devastating, I even threw my supporters cap to the floor when they hit a four on the last bat of the game.

Having been adopted by the boy's house next door, Ballygunge boys, I found myself cooking a breakfast of Aloo Dam (spicy potatoes) for 26 hungry male stomachs at 7am on Sunday morning. They completely demolished the feast within minutes of service; I take that as acceptance to my cooking. Soon after breakfast, I found myself in Tim Uncle's car heading to a corporate Rugby tournament. Here, I reestablished my role as the most engrossed supporter, cheering the Future Hope team into the Final. Unfortunately they lost but had a great go at it.

Corporate rugby with the rugby team which included current students, alumni, and of course Tim Uncle.

Sunday evening whisked me far from the Kolkata I know, both physically and mentally. After about an hours drive out of the city, 4 of the volunteers (Jemima, Tonnie, Nicole and I) found ourselves at an ancient Maharaja's palace, currently undergoing a transformation into an ultra luxurious 5* boutique hotel. I honestly don't think I have been anywhere so mesmerising, neither in India nor back home. The evening included a grand tour, entertainment from a famous traditional band, complete over-indulgence in the open bar and buffet, and the offer of the palace for a wedding venue, free of charge! I am holding Ajay to the offer!! Incredible India indeed!

My last week proved quite eventful. (As such this will be the longest Kolkata blog; the Hindu festival of Holi warrants its own post really!)
 Firstly on Wednesday, a day off from school for everyone, I got up at 5:30am to go off into the Kolkatan suberbs with the boys from Class XI B with whom I'd been trekking. They took me to the site of an ancient Roman Catholic Church in Bandel, portugese in Architecture but with a real Bengali swing on religion. In the evening all the volunteers ventured to the banks of the Hoogli River to watch a beautiful sunset and take a little boat trip.

Sunset on the River Hoogli

Some of the FH volunteers: left to right Sam, Nicole, Jemima, me and Georgie.

One activity most volunteers par-take in during their stay at Future Hope is a Night tour. This involves going out with one of the two outreach workers, Mintu or Jas, and driving around the streets of Kolkata looking for potential new students who could benefit from the opportunity. We visited a real mix of places including the red light district, the burning chats where bodies were queued up for burning, both Sealdah and Howrah stations, and a Bee hive of activity at the midnight vegetable market. At the latter, men carried bundles of vegetables weighing up to half a tonne in chains of 4men. They literally looked like a human centapede. Along with the scenes of the streets, Jas intermingled the stories behind himself and  some of the pupils which brought the whole experience home. We rolled into bed at 4am.
Three hours later we got up for our final day of term. The not-to-be-missed singing assembly was a great way to end the school year. I had many farewells, the most emotional of which was with class XI B. They surprised me with a photo collage from our trek which set the tears flowing; many of you may have seen a whole album on Facebook documenting the emotional episode.
To help celebrate the end of the school year, the volunteers hosted a school disco for the boarders. Just like in England, the little ones threw themselves into dancing while the older boys and girls stood at opposite sides of the hall too self conscious to dance. Luckily we volunteers have lost all public credibility so had a good boogie. Honey Singh is the Indian version of Jay-Z and found himself on repeat most of the evening.
As part of my leaving I wanted  to organise an old English sports day. Events included sack races, onion and spoon race (the Indian take on a British favourite), three-legged, and a good old Sprint. The races went down well and even the house parents got involved!

Old English sports day: three legged race

Sunday and Monday were spent celebrating Holi, the festival of colour, marking the first day of spring. I began the day getting a face full of red paint (non smudge) at 7:30am courtesy of Ballygunge Boys. A local Indian man followed with green powder which temporarily blinded me. Off to Rajahat, 45mins out of the centre, to play Holi with the boarders. We spent 4hours throwing powder at one another, getting rugby tackled into streams of dirty water and generally being victimised. I think a lot of the students got their own backs from my practise exams papers I'd made them a few weeks before. It was great fun and I came away plastered in paint.

Nicole and I 4 hours into Holi

Let the cleaning commence!

Some of the volunteers holi-ed out!

Monday was a continuation of the colour. As always seems to happen in Kolkata, we got invited to a Red Bull party full of colour, foam and water guns. Within 5minutes of arriving, we were socked with water and colour. It was one of the craziest parties I have, and probably, will ever go to in my life.

 A great week of send offs from a city that has adopted  I too have taken into my heart.

Since moving back to Kolkata I've changed residences. We five girls ( complete different crowd to the pre-Christmas Alice and Charlotte) live in the ground floor flat. We have daily battles with cockroaches, mice, and ants, and we've had to scare away some all-too-intriuged men who seem to have mistook our windows for viewing holes at a zoo! This week saw me get electrocuted by a dodgy plug, and the week before Tonnie is adamant she saw a ghost! All in a normal week at Ballygunge. 

The delightful bathroom complete with mould

The entrance to our Home Sweet Home: our flat on the left,  the Bally Boys house on the right.

That said, we have an incredible rooftop which we have made quite homely. Although overlooked, we've created a chilled lounging area and even bought a paddling pool. 

Nicole and Annie enjoying the sun western style

One of the redeeming features of the flat: the view

From Kolkata I fly to Kathmandu to spend 2 weeks trekking around the Annapurna mountain range. It's miles away both physically and mentally from Kolkata but another adventure within an adventure.

Catwalks, pancakes and sprinting after the Vibhuti Express

In my experience Exam season has been associated with long dull sessions spent slaving over books in bedrooms and libraries dreaming of the moment I step out of my final test. Exams at Future Hope have brought almost the opposite. 
Jemima and I ventured off to some of the tourist sights, taking in the crammed flower market on the banks of the Hoogli river. In amongst the beautiful sights and smells created by the flowers, the river itself is a swelling flow of sewage and waste, quite a revolting scene. 

Some of the hundreds of stalls at the market

Flowers from the market

We also called in at the colonial General Post Office and the historic St John's church. At the latter, we made two marvellous discoveries: the first was a potential ancestor of mine ascending up the Griffin side of my gene pool; the second was "John" of St John's - the quirky, eccentric, hair-in-dreadlocks, broken-hipped organist of the church. He gave us the grand tour as we were "friends of the lovely Charlotte", which included a personal performance of Auld Lang Sine and Pink Floyd on the organ. 

The one and only John of St John's

Sunday saw the continuation of my career along the Indian red carpet. The previous week I found myself at the Bengal Fashion Week, sitting front row on the final showcase! We even got free chocolates thanks to our seats. While at the show I bumped into a man, Prasanta, who once represented India in an International darts tournament held in none other than Bridlington, Yorkshire. After a bit of white rose bonding, he invited me to join him at the Kolkata Fashion Show the following weekend. This invitation turned into a request for me to walk in the show. Although initially sceptical, encouragement from the other volunteers saw me throw on a pair of high heels and learn how to "work" a runway! My dress, a modern take on the traditional Indian wedding dress, proved to be a big hit. Following a successful strut up and down without any hints of a trip, I was photographed by a number of newspapers and approached by another paper asking for details on how to book me for a future shoot! "I'm not actually a model" was lost in translation so I just gave him my details. Who knows, maybe a career in Indian fashion may still be possible?! 

Backstage at the Fashion show. Me on the left and Prasnta in the middle.

Pancake Day and Ash Wednesday fell in the following week. Depleted in volunteer numbers due to the others little trip to the Andaman Islands, Jemima and I were left to fry up 200+ pancakes for the borders. This included collecting the various ingredients and 
negotiating a good price. The many years spent with Daddy Suddaby in the markets of Turkey and Tunisia kicked in and we haggled like mad. We still probably got ripped off but when an egg cost the equivalent of 4p, I think we're still winning. After a little tuition on how to build the perfect combination, the American style pancakes topped with sugar, banana and lemon (the latter being a real treat for the kids) went down a storm. We were both pretty sick of the sight of the doughy disks by the time we reached home.

Mass production of Pancakes

Ballygunge enjoying the tasty treats

Ash Wednesday has never been particularly monumental in my life except marking the start of the 46 day period during which I test my mental self control and remove all chocolate, sweets, biscuits, cakes, crisps etc. from my diet. This year we decided to return to John at St John's and attend the church service. Although initially late, our group of 5 Gora girls doubled the size of the congregation so were welcomed with open arms. Some fantastic singing followed, warbling more than a gaggle of Griffin siblings at Church. We left the church with a newly tattooed black ash cross on our forehead. Subtle. 

Ash Wednesday Service with (R to L) Georgie, Jemima, Me, Jess and Jess's friend.

My penultimate weekend at Future Hope was going to take me to Varanasi, the spiritual home of India. The realisation of how little time I have got has set in and I began to wish I hadn't left it so late to visit. Following a full on week with exams, tuition and (of course) pancakes, we were looking forward to a weekend away. We left about an hour to get to the station, apparently not long enough. A local friend had offered to drive us to the station. Unfortunately a few wrong turns, heavy traffic and bad GPS meant we arrived t Howrah at 8:01pm. Our train left at 8pm. Optimistically we sprinted between the stations; confusingly there are 2 at Howrah. Frantic directions later we reached the platform to see the headlights of the Vibhuti Express pulling out of the station. We attempted a heroic sprint after the train but were stopped by the police. Tails between our legs, the three sprinting polgi Goras (crazy whities) walked back to the entrance. Maybe this is why Indians arrive one hour before the train departs?

Still, I can make the most of another weekend in Kolkata. Another modelling job is available and there are a lot of kids looking for distractions. In this next week we plan to organise an Old English sports day, a school disco and celebrate the much talked about Holi festival - the famous festival seeing Hindus dress all in white and throw multicoloured powder over one another.

Crocodile lakes (II), unflattering portraits, pink polka dots

I eventually peeled myself away from the Goan beach, leaving half my singed skin on the sunbeds. Turns out my doxy anti-malaria medication makes me uber sun sensitive! Oops.

I took my first sleeper bus to the Hippy capital of Hampi. The bus was blooming awful; I felt every bump, lump, swerve and near misses all the way and in India that means being woken up every 5 minutes. Add to that the stress worrying if the other half of my miniature “double sleeper" was going to be filled by a strange molesting male. Luckily no neighbour ever appeared, and I drew into Hampi at 5am being chased down by a stream of rickshaws.

Sleeper bunk supposively for two.

Whilst waiting for our 7am ferry across the Tungabhadra river, I met a welsh girl, Emily, who became my travel buddy for the duration of my stay in Hampi.

Local life on the banks of the river

Hampi couldn’t be further from what I associate with India. Its full of backpackers and roaming lost souls, smoking weed, wearing baggy trousers and supporting an impressive head of dreadlocks. Still, it was an extremely interesting place. The countryside is littered with huge rounded boulders, providing the ultimate playground for the hundreds of climbers who filled the equally large number of hostels. Hampi’s accommodation wins the ward for the cheapest accommodation. At only Rs. 100 (£1) I got a space in a communal lounge. If you were able to get over the cold showers and the numerous dogs who decided to wake us up by licking our faces, it was arguably acceptable.

Elephant bath time in the river

I stayed here for only 4 days, during which Emily and I and some other newly adopted friends from America and Canada went swimming in a waterfall and a crocodile infested lake. We rode temperamental bicycles around the temples and boulders, washed an elephant, learnt how to cook more Indian delights in an Indian’s home, watched some beautiful sunsets and rises sat amongst lots of monkeys. Although a relaxed town, it wasn’t exactly somewhere I was keen to stay for longer than I did.

One of our swimming spots with Emily and other friends.

I was starting to miss the school and pupils too much. And so from Hampi I began my journey back to my beloved Kolkata, stopping off at the uneventful Hyderbad for 36 hours.

After a 26 hour train journey (my longest of the little adventure) and a unwanted portrait drawn by a random on my train, pulling into Howrah station felt like I was coming home!

The unflattering portrait of me (apparently) by Depak. I'm pretty sure I haven't doubled in size since leaving the UK...

The first week back in Kolkata included everything I love and missed about this place. School was full on: maths, maths and more maths tutoring. Lots of sport with the students, including teaching netball to the girls and learning zumba from a very camp Indian man. Friday night provided my first taste of a "night out" in India. "Roxy" club matched Cindies (Cambridge) for humidity and sweat content, but the Hindi dance music made for some great dance moves. Having done Zumba earlier that day we found ourselves cracking out some over energetic steps; high knees and lots of elbow pumps kept the leering men at bay!

Saturday we headed to a local tourist attraction: Aquatica - a water park complete with sprinkler disco, wave machine and dance music waterfall. Accompanied by three of the older Future Hope boys, all the hungover volunteers headed off unsure of what to expect. It took long enough for us to get in, failing to sneak food in and arguing with officials about the appropriateness of our clothes. We lost the argument, badly, coming away in stunningly awful pink polka dot synthetic shorts and t'shirts. I've never been a pink kind of gal and the unwashed outfit did nothing to change that. Though it added to the comedy value of the day. Saturday evening and Sunday were surprisingly wet, my first rain of Kolkata. Alice and I were stuffed full: firstly at a family's home on Saturday during which we were treated to chicken hearts, chicken liver, fish and other local treats. 

Got to love the pink polka dot skin tight pyjamas!

Sunday I headed out to a suburb with one of the older students, Ranjit, with whom I went trekking . His mum, an incredible cook, was a wonderful host and topped up my already full stomach. Her neighbours also wanted in on the foreigner-entertaining and I almost found myself taking a tour of everyone's home; protective Ranjit made sure I didn't become the local attraction. Its great to be back. I only wish I could stretch the next 2 weeks into 2 more years.

In my next installment you'll I'll have attended a talk by Rev. Jesse Jackson, sat front row at Bengal's fashion show finale, made 200+ chapatis for the Ballygunge Boys, walked the runway at Kolkata's fashion week and probably stopped off in Varanasi. Just your average school week in Kolkata.

Photos of the grand tour Part II

Apparently I'm not the first female Suddaby in India. 

Camel Safaris in Jaisalmer

Local games at Bikaner Camel Festival

The Golden Temple, Amritsar

New Friends in Amritsar. 

Learning to wash clothes in the Mumbai Dobhi Ghat

Mumbai fashion icon..... A burkha is definitely not for me!

Face full of make up, a can worth of hair spray and a horrific dress in the next Bollywood blockbuster.

Back in Kolkata with the small girls getting Henna tattooes.

The Route

A few stats I compiled:

Total distance covered: 8,200km

Number of cities visited: 18

Number of trains ridden, most of which were sleeper: 11

Number of new friends: 31, foreign and Indian

Tourist attractions visited: 50