Lots of Lovely Lucy

Reflecting on my time so far in India, I wasn't fully happy being at the school alone. I am proud of myself as I also wasn't unhappy by any means, but I think company was what was missing. I was so excited when I went to meet Lucy, who I will be travelling with from now on. We didn't stop talking for three solid days and despite now having been together for a while we still find ourselves chattering away which I didn't think would be possible having spent so much time together.
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Lucy and I in the busy backpacker area (Sudder Street)

What vividly stood out for me when I first met Lucy was how clean she smelt. I just couldn't stop sniffing her. She convinced me that paying someone to do my laundry was a good idea despite my initial reluctance to splash out a whole three pounds (half my daily budget). It sounds ridiculous that for this little money I was uncertain, but being and living in India, my idea of what is right, wrong, good, bad, clean, dirty, expensive and cheap has completely been turned on its head. My external and internal points of reference have been scrambled and I no longer no what is 'normal'.

For example I took Lucy to the 'amazing' room I'd had in Kolkata before with the great view from the window onto Sudder Street. I realised that it wasn't quite so great as I first thought. Back then having an actual mattress was a highlight after the hard bed of the school. But there was still no running water, the walls were dirty and scuffed and you definetely would not want to lay your head on the grubby brown stained pillows that were provided. We only stayed one night but I guess it was an eye opening experience for Lucy.

A festival in Kolkata with many Naked Holy Men (note the irony of the Coke Ad in the background)

I enjoyed taking Lucy around Kolkata and was able to navigate well having now spent quite a lot of time there. We went shopping which was fun as I could advise Lucy on on what Indian loose fitting tops (called Kurtas) would suit her so that we can be modestly dressed throughout our travels. I found it strange to eat in proper restaurants again as I've fallen in love with Indian street food which is delicious, but I needed to give Lucy's stomach some time to adapt. We were lucky enough, through some contacts, to spend some time at the British Council offices which were very interesting and apparently not that dissimilar looking from the London offices.

Poojas at the river early in the morning

Early one morning we took a trip to the Hooghly river to watch Hindus bathe and make religious offerings. After that we saw a religious festival where many naked holy men covered in paint (Sadhus) wandered around and performed prayers. That was very surreal and I felt like we stuck out so much being white, female (and not naked!). Lucy also met the henna ladies who lived on the backpacker street and too got reeled into spending three hours with them. All of my feeling of questioning them and how genuine they are bubbled up again but I could finally talk to someone who'd met them.

The Henna Women

It was very intriguing watching Lucy react and adapt to the craziness that I've grown in many ways accustomed to. From there being predominantly men everywhere, to hearing loud horns constantly, to being stared at to being asked personal details by random strangers such as marital status and income, to having ridiculous amounts of sugar in your tea. It can be very overwhelming but she took it in her stride. Or she did until our journey to the school...

After one hour the bus in front of us suddenly braked causing us to collide. The large, wide, front window screen smashed and completely fell through. OF course the driver continued the journey as planned as if nothing had happened. Everyone was freezing cold. Not much later I could smell melting plastic and we had to stop to fix the broken radiator. To top it off, without any warning the door suddenly fell off. Feeling strangely calm among the chaos, I tried to reassure Lucy that it was fine, although this can't have been a good first impression!

'No problem' is a phrase which I often hear Indians use. If this happened in London I would be totally shocked, but somehow in India it doesn't phase me. After all, we are still here to tell the tale and we were able to recover in the beautiful, still countryside of Jharkand. It's so good to return with someone to keep me company who I get on so well with. My lovely Lucy :-)

Calm at last

When the train arrived in Orcha it was very dark and it was such a small station that we hadn't realised we'd arrived because there was no platform. As a result we had to try and jump off the train which had begun to move again wearing our huge, heavy backpacks. It probably shouldn't have been, but it was very fun, a good adrenaline rush!

The beautiful forts of Orcha

After the awkwardness and web of lies in Khajuraho I really wanted to find somewhere peaceful where we wouldn't be bothered. Orcha was the perfect place. Recommended by a fellow traveller, it was a small town surrounded by interesting forts. The people were warm and friendly and no one was trying to trick us. The pace of life wasn't as hectic as in the city and I just felt so relaxed and at ease that I spent ten days there.

The people of Orcha were so laid back. I had no one pushily shouting at me to look in their shop, which gets incredibly annoying. After one day of being there, the owner of the guesthouse happily gave me his 9 month adorable baby daughter to look after whilst they popped across the road for half an hour. I think I was more worried than they were given that was the longest I'd ever held a baby. A group of ten children of the rooftop opposite ours also invited us onto their roof to chat and learn some Bollywood dance moves (which they were brilliant at).

The guesthouse owners baby was entrusted to me!

We visited the forts which were pleasant to walk around, but one of my favourite days was when we hired rickety bikes to cycle around the nearby nature reserve. I've never ridden such an uncomfortable bike for such a long period of time before. But it was lovely to be able to paddle my feet in the river and bask on the rocks like a lizard in the warm sun. The ride to the nature reserve itself was hilarious as we were smiled, laughed and waved at by so many Indians. Apparently there is nothing more amusing than seeing Westerners on bicycles, the reaction was so funny. By the end I was exhausted, not just from cycling in the heat, but from saying hello to so many people.

Knee deep in the river playing 'throw the bottle in a circle' with some kids

Leaving wasn't so simple. I'd booked a train to make the 1200km (22 hours) journey back to Kolkata where I needed to go to meet my friend Lucy who was flying in and to be able to return to the school. I arrived on time for my train but the last few days had been unusually cold for an Indian Winter. The fog was causing delays of hours and hours. Being completely alone again by this point and not having met anyone helpful who knew what was going on, I was so confused about what platform my train was due to leave from and how many hours delay it had. After four hours of waiting I made some enquiries only to find that it had left, without me! Shit! It seemed I wasn't yet ready to leave Orcha. although absoloutely devestated at the time, and worried for Lucy who I now couldn't greet at the airport, the extra two days spent in Orcha waiting for another train were really fun as it was like coming home to all the friends I'd just had to leave behind...........Oh and the train only took 28 hours once I did manage to get it the second time.

The Tourist Trappers

India being India, getting to my next destination, Khajuraho, would never be easy. What we'd been told, in extremely broken English, was that we could take a direct bus taking around seven hours. In reality this entailed one flat tyre and thirteen hours of travel on three different buses -each one more cramped than the last. So much so I practically had had people on my lap by the end and our bags had to be precariously piled up on top of the bus. But it was actually strangely enjoyable. We travelled with the locals who were very friendly and intruiged by us. It was nice to be smiled at as we played with an inquisitive toddler who kept trying to unzip my bag.

Just before I got off the bus I distinctly remember saying to my friends that I had a good feeling about the place which is ironic as I was completely off the mark. I've learnt that although trusting your gut when travelling can is important, it's wise to approach this with caution, particularly in India given its reputation for having a funny impact on people's guts!

Renound for its many temples housing intricate carvings of the Karma Sutra, Khajuraho sounded fascinating, and on the surface the town looked like a really nice place with its many endearing cafes, restaurant and shops. Yet hidden under the surface we discovered a web of scamming and lies.

The first night we met three chatty Indian guys, all around our age, who were on holiday in Khajuraho. We never questioned the plausibility of this as there are several Indian and Western tourists who visit. They appeared to be very well educated, speaking excellent English as well as Spanish and French. In my head I'd hastily assumed they belonged to the growing Indian middle class with their increasing incomes which they choose to spend living a very Western lifestyle. They would casually make references to Western Pop culture - Bob Marley, Hollywood films, how much they enjoyed drinking with their friends. Looking back I am convinced that it was all a ploy to find ways of relating to us.

When they offered to show us around the main sites, we gladly accepted as they'd visited several times so would be good guides. Although this kind offer aroused a small element of suspicion in me, I tried to push my cynicism aside as I've met some very genuine selfless people in India who see welcoming guests as extremely important and will go out of their way to help you expecting nothing in return.

The next day the three of us got on the back of their motorbikes (sorry mum!) and off we went. The ride was so much fun and we got to see so many more small villages and bits of countryside than you would on foot or by public transport. We felt quite lucky that we were driven around from temple to temple and given time to stroll about. It was almost too good to be true but then the trouble began....

One of the bikes stopped for petrol yet conveniently the guy didn't have any money in his wallet and would 'pay it back later' to my friend who probably gave him more than was needed. On the way to the last temple we were taken to a wood carving shop which we just had no interest in. This was obvious to them so they asked if we would like tea. 'Of course we want tea, we always want tea' we stupidly said. At a chai stall, was what was implied, but in their friends shawl shop is what was meant.

Before the shopkeeper started his sales pitch, the guys tried to make 'interesting' conversation which they thought would appeal to us. They exploited Khajuraho's links with the Karma Sutra and seedily asked if we'd heard what 'ADIDAS' stood for (the answer being 'All Day I Dream about Sex') and what PUMA meant (Please Use My Ass). The conversation continued along these lines and although impressed with the amount of western brands they could use as acronyms for sleazy sentences, we all knew we just didn't feel right about them and they made us fell quite uncomfortable.

We half pretended to laugh and obligingly looked at some shawls (as the English are just so polite) but made a quick exit when the shopkeeper was busy talking to new customers. The last straw came when they took us for lunch at a 'cheap' restaurant but they themselves didn't want to eat as they were'nt hungry (only for commission!). Playing at their game my friend said that she felt ill and I wanted to 'use the internet' (our agreed code sentence for getting out of awkward situations). We declined the offer to rest at theirs and all made sure we didn't commit to any plans in the evening, although they attempted very heavily to persuade us. We were relieved to have escaped.

Later that day my friend Mike found out more about what was going on. Some seemingly innocent young boys around 10 - 12 started chatting to him and lo and behold, they too could speak some English, French and Spanish. They began to boast about the many girls they'd slept with! They asked if Mike knew what PUMA meant. 'Please Use My Aeroplane of course!' This confused them as the response was usually different and they didn't understand what he had said. Mike probed them and found that they did indeed receive commission for bringing tourists to places. What I found sad and disturbing, was to hear the children talking in such a way. It made me feel uneasy.

Wandering around more we found that every Indian that approached us, said they were a tourist, could speak 'many language', but always the same lines and all they all used the sleazy phrases and stories. It wes as if it had been programmed into them and everyone in the town was in on the scam to befriend tourists and find ways to get money out of them through lies and deception. I despise this way of doing business. Having to con and lie to people to make money is just so wrong. I wonder whether they really need to do this to make a decent living? They all seemed quite well off, but perhaps without the scams they would not be. Needless to say we left as soon as we could. It furthered my dislike for popular tourist hubs as they always attract the inevitable tourist traps and made me appreciate just how nice the area around the school is.