Amritsar, the Golden city of India. After a long 23 hour journey, during which an 80+ year old woman thrust me into her bust and fed me nuts, I arrived into the northern state of Punjab. The city is most famous for the Golden Temple, the place where Sikhism was founded. It's an incredible temple, the upper two floors of which are plated in gold and the temple itself is surrounded by a lake. Pilgrims from all religions head to the temple to bathe in the water; all quite awkward when a man strips down to nothing but his boxers, and of course colourful turban, and goes for a dip about a metre from where you're sat people watching! As part of the Sikh philosophy you can also stay at the temple in the pilgrams accommodation and take all your meals for free. I joined the mass feast one lunch time having been adopted by a mother and daughter, all very helpful when there are no instructions in English. The dining experience was like no other. Although it won't get my 5 stars on tripadvisor for food quality or service, it was quite a spectacle to witness the feeding of a small army. Food, or more accurately slop, is poured out of large buckets dragged along the lines of sitting pilgrams. Chapatis are thrown at you from above by men in turbans. The whole sitting probably only lasts 20mins and then the next thousand hungry mouths are frogmarched in.
Amritsar lies only 30km from the Pakistani border. Here, in a town called Wagah, the hilarious routine of closing boarder occurs everyday. This involves ferocious flag flying, incredibly high leg-kicking, and hundreds of Indians and Pakistanis cheering their respective soldiers on, during which the men in uniform keep incredibly straight faces. All very peculiar.
Amritsar also saw me taken into another Indian family home. I was given the grand tour and looked through a whole life's worth of photographs. Still, always lovely and educating to be welcomed into someone's home, a concept the Indians struggle to understand when told it would rarely happen in the UK. The city can also claim to have the most fun temple in India, if not the world. The temple, said to help with conceiving children, saw me crawl through tunnels, wade through a water trough, and eat flowers. Don't worry grandparents, I too am hoping the whole conception thing won't work its magic for a good few years yet.
Next stop Delhi, a city that if I'm honest I was dreading. A comical, near death tuktuk ride took me from the train station to my haven in the suberbs. We ran several red lights, raced whacky-racer style with other tuktuks and required directions from about 10 different people. Mrs Kamte and her two dogs were to host me for just 24 hours, enough to get a feel for the city, and in one man's unwelcome case, get a feel of me (more eve teasing). It also brought my first Indian rain. As if the streets of Delhi weren't dirty enough, the rain water churned up the excrement (human and animal), the rubbish and the mud roads to make paths which looked more at home in a Glastonbury field. My shoes and feet were filthy! It's a harsh city. Faces are more worn, more single men sleep rough on the streets, the air is thick with car fumes, yet life goes on.
Ahmedabad was my final stop before heading south, home to Ghandi's ashram (sort of shelter for his devoted followers), good food and too much traffic. I had a horrific introduction to the men of the city. A railway "milk" seller managed to completely unsettle me when he first brushed my leg very unsubtly and unnecessarily, before proceeding to sit and stare at me for an uncomfortably long time during which- I'm pretty certain- he fondled with himself; the re-buckling of the belt and flicking of white liquid was really quite disturbing.
I took a slower pace of life in the city, starting with a sedate walking tour through the old city and finishing at the ashram, reading books and enjoying the warmer climates.
Now in Mumbai I feel surprisingly safe, having enjoyed a city tour today. Tomorrow the city breaks into a celebratory mood as the country commemorates gaining independence from Britain with Republic Day. Best leave the Union Jack in my hotel room....
Amritsar lies only 30km from the Pakistani border. Here, in a town called Wagah, the hilarious routine of closing boarder occurs everyday. This involves ferocious flag flying, incredibly high leg-kicking, and hundreds of Indians and Pakistanis cheering their respective soldiers on, during which the men in uniform keep incredibly straight faces. All very peculiar.
Amritsar also saw me taken into another Indian family home. I was given the grand tour and looked through a whole life's worth of photographs. Still, always lovely and educating to be welcomed into someone's home, a concept the Indians struggle to understand when told it would rarely happen in the UK. The city can also claim to have the most fun temple in India, if not the world. The temple, said to help with conceiving children, saw me crawl through tunnels, wade through a water trough, and eat flowers. Don't worry grandparents, I too am hoping the whole conception thing won't work its magic for a good few years yet.
Next stop Delhi, a city that if I'm honest I was dreading. A comical, near death tuktuk ride took me from the train station to my haven in the suberbs. We ran several red lights, raced whacky-racer style with other tuktuks and required directions from about 10 different people. Mrs Kamte and her two dogs were to host me for just 24 hours, enough to get a feel for the city, and in one man's unwelcome case, get a feel of me (more eve teasing). It also brought my first Indian rain. As if the streets of Delhi weren't dirty enough, the rain water churned up the excrement (human and animal), the rubbish and the mud roads to make paths which looked more at home in a Glastonbury field. My shoes and feet were filthy! It's a harsh city. Faces are more worn, more single men sleep rough on the streets, the air is thick with car fumes, yet life goes on.
Ahmedabad was my final stop before heading south, home to Ghandi's ashram (sort of shelter for his devoted followers), good food and too much traffic. I had a horrific introduction to the men of the city. A railway "milk" seller managed to completely unsettle me when he first brushed my leg very unsubtly and unnecessarily, before proceeding to sit and stare at me for an uncomfortably long time during which- I'm pretty certain- he fondled with himself; the re-buckling of the belt and flicking of white liquid was really quite disturbing.
I took a slower pace of life in the city, starting with a sedate walking tour through the old city and finishing at the ashram, reading books and enjoying the warmer climates.
Now in Mumbai I feel surprisingly safe, having enjoyed a city tour today. Tomorrow the city breaks into a celebratory mood as the country commemorates gaining independence from Britain with Republic Day. Best leave the Union Jack in my hotel room....
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