8th-9th August 2010 As Aaron, Meredith and myself climbed aboard the rickety government bus that runs from Amritsar to Manali, we looked around ourselves in dismay at where we were going to spend the next fourteen hours or so. We had arrived at the bus station early and found the bus before it had even pulled into it's numbered slot. The vehicle was filled with hard, plastic benches without a reclining cushioned seat in sight. We tested the seats trying to select which would be the least painless to spend the night on. Meredith noticed a couple of seats with more leg room, at the back of the bus, behind the exit. There was only space for two in front of the exit, (or so we thought) so Aaron kindly took the isle seat the row in front. When we investigated the bus station the day before we were told that this bus usually wasn't full. So we now envisioned ourselves laying across the benches later that night. Unfortunately we were soon to be sorely disappointed. It was a very

7th August 2010 'Just look at those women, they are dressed like princesses!' Meredith gushed in admiration as some ladies passed by us in the street wearing beautiful, brightly coloured, glittering saris. I nodded enthusiastically in agreement, 'Why would you every wear plain old jeans and t-shirt if you had the option to wear that?' In turkey I thought that women had the worse end of the deal, having to cover up so heavily in the heat, however in India I admired the women who appeared to display much more beauty and culture than the men, who mostly wore closer to western dress. It also struck me that some women seemed to be wearing elaborate saris just to wear around town, they didn't look as if they were on their way to some major event like a wedding. Meredith was so taken with Indian dress that she had already brought five saris when we met her. She wanted to practise tying them on, so after much difficulty with the translation she negot

August 7, 2010 “They must have a height requirement,” Meredith said. I voiced my agreement as I looked up at one of the tallest Indians I've seen thus far. Smartly dressed in a pressed brown uniform and wearing a cap that appeared to have a fan stuck in it the young Indian solider wore a sour expression as if the whistle he perpetually had to his lips didn't agree with him. However, it was probably the mob behind us that brought on his consternation.  Jean, Meredith and I sat shoulder to shoulder on a curb not more than 100 yards from the Indian/Pakistan border gate. At our backs were grandstands teeming with a throng, occupants of which unerringly drew regular whistle blows and angry shouts from the aforementioned soldier. Other similarly dressed and prodigiously tall soldiers buzzed here and there but he seemed the only one tasked with keeping the thousand or so souls in attendance seated and not pouring into the street. Guess, he'd drawn the short stick for that a

6th August 2010 After Agra Aaron, Meredith and myself broke off from the rest of the Texas group and travelled by train with an overnight stop in Delhi, to Amritsar, home of the Sikhs' holiest shrine, the Golden Temple. During our stop in Delhi most of the hotels close to the station were full, so we ended up staying in a miserable place without a working shower and with a bathroom you wouldn't want to spend that long in anyway. Once we got to Amritsar station we got a rickshaw across town, to an area close to the temple, then started squelching around the filthy side roads looking for accommodation. After the previous night's hotel, followed by the sweaty, tiring train journey we had that morning that left Delhi at 6am, we wanted to stay in at least some reasonable budget accommodation. After searching a few options we settled on the 'Lucky Guest House'. We decided to stay in Amritsar for two nights so we assumed we would visit the Golden Temple the following

4 August 2010 Jean and I had last seen my sister Meredith on our wedding day, April 10. At the time she had mentioned that she was planning a foray into India over her summer holiday from teaching in China. As Jean and I were planning to be in India in August we thought it only proper that we meet up. I remember being totally oblivious to the sheer size of the sub-continent. Meredith and her party (Chris, Jay and Lindsay) were traveling overland through southern China, Tibet and Nepal. They crossed the border into India at northeast border of the country and cut east to Calcutta on the eastern border with Bangladesh. We arrived in Mumbai located on the lower part of the mid-section of India on its western border. Through several emails over several weeks we decided to meet in Agra located in northwest India. To put it in terms relative to the US. It would be like me being in Austin, Meredith being in Chicago and planning to meet in Topeka, Kansas. And instead of flying we would

29th July - 2nd August 2010 On the train to Jalgaon Aaron and I searched through the lonely planet for 'budget' accommodation suggestions and came across the 'Hotel Plaza' which had double rooms from Rs350 (which is about $7). I was cautious about the price, 'how could anything so cheap be decent?' I thought, but when we reached Jalgoan I was pleasantly surprised! This was the best hotel we stayed in in India, in fact probably the best value hotel I've ever stayed in. After being shown a selection of rooms we picked a room for Rs550 per night, inc tax. It was spotlessly clean, white, with a simple, modern interior and silvery grey satin sheets. However the best aspect of our stay at the hotel was the owner. He was always ensuring we were 100% satisfied, gave us recommendations for food & entertainment and ensured our room stayed spotless and our belongings secure. In Jalgoan we ate some delicious curries, including one night when we left the hotel w

29th July 2010 'You will love the trains in India!' exclaimed one of the travellers Aaron and I met on the benches in front of the tourist kiosk at Mumbai train station (CST). When Aaron and I boarded our first train from Mumbai to Jalgoan, I'm not sure that I would use the word 'love' to describe my first impression, however I soon discovered the comforts and value. Aaron and I had made reservations in an AC two tier carriage, apparently the choice of middle class Indians. Two tier, as opposed to three tier, meant that there was one lower berth and one fold down upper berth on each wall, therefore the main compartments contain four beds and side compartments two. Aaron and I had a lower berth each in one of the main compartments. The window was grimy, the benches where covered in a blue plastic fabric and the area had a grubby feel to it. Aaron and I were exhausted from our flights from Istanbul and hardly any sleep for the last two days, so we pushed our bags

July 31, 2010 We didn't roll back over at 6am this morning. It was misting and rainfall looked evident so the proprietor loaned me his umbrella. We left the hotel at 6:40 via auto-rickshaw and where at the bus station within minutes. I paid the driver 15 rupees ($0.30) and no more per Chhatrasen's instruction. The grubby bus station was a bit intimidating as all the signs were in Hindi with no English to be found. I inquired at centrally located kiosk as to which bus was going to Ajunta. The brown uniformed man behind the hazy glass gestured toward slip number seven where an elderly white heavily loaded bus appeared to ready to move out. It was only a quarter until seven by my watch and Chhatrasen had expressly told me that the bus left at seven. I observed the press of humanity inside the bus that seemed ready to burst through the rusty confines with high hopes that it was not our transport. The old engine revved. A few men who had been loitering in the mud outside le

30 July 2010 We arrived in the city of Jalgaon last night about ten. The 7 hour train ride from Mumbai was air conditioned and restful. Jean and I managed to take the edge off our fatigue incurred from the previous sleepless night. Jalgaon is a small place by Indian standards with a population of around 1/3 of a million. We found a hopeful looking accommodation called Hotel Plaza in our Lonely Planet guide that was a mere 100 yards from the train station.     Stepping into the cozy lobby we were met by the effusive clerk/owner Mr. Chaatrasen. He was a dark haired middle-aged man wearing a white kaftan and loose trousers. We confirmed that we had called from the train and yes, we would like a room. However, Chaatrasen was insistent that we inspect his hotel before we decide to stay. Setting our bags down he whisked us off. We started off with the palatial air-conditioned room for 1000 rupees ($22-24) a night. From there would toured another 3 or 4 other rooms ranging from 500-800

29th July 2010 As Aaron and I flew into Mumbai it dawned on me just how little I knew about India. I felt ashamed that despite the many Indian friends I have and the colleges I worked with in Austin, I had not found out much about their home country. I was also embarrassed that I know hardly anything about the history of the British colonisation. It was a surprise to me to find out that we would be spending Indian independence day (15th August) in Mumbai, just before we fly to Sri Lanka. We were inspired to visit India to meet up with Meredith, Aaron's sister, who is currently teaching English in Shanghai and travelling through India with some of her friends during their summer holiday. My only preparation for entering India had been to read 'A passage to India' by EM Foster whilst we were in Greece. Soon after arriving in India I put to work rectifying my ignorance by starting to read Gandhi's autobiography and 'The White Tiger' by Aravind Adiga. India is