Goan trance

And so to Goa, home to some of India's finest beaches and the chance to team up with normality for a beer or 20! After a gruelling 16 hour overnighter bus ride we pitched up at Agonda, the first of the seven beaches we frequented during our 10 day break here. First impressions couldn't have been better. A two-mile beach without so much as one living soul. Paradise! Here we quickly settled into our hut, the bamboo door of which opened onto soft white sand flanked by exotic palm trees that stretched as far as the eye could see. Neighbouring Palolem - a 7km rickshaw ride away - offered much more in the way of nightlife and we soon got acquainted with some of the beaches most popular drinking holes! Christmas Day we dined in style on the beach - the King fish was bbq'd tandoor style and was arguably the finest fish I've ever tasted! Boxing Day bought with it the arrival of Dukestar and Carrys, who we met in Margao and ventured to Colva Beach with. Here package tourism exists on a mass-scale and lobster red Brits line the, shitty, beach amid Domino Pizza cartons and freshly drained Kingfisher bottles. Mind you, the trip was worth it just to see our friend's look of amazement as countless Indians joined us in the taxi on our way back to Margao station! After several days exploring the southern beaches we packed up our packs and made the 120km trek north to team up with Luke and get a look at some of Goa's hippier beaches in the North. Beaches like Anjuna, home to the 60s hippy and drug boom, and Vagator were a welcome change from the slower paced south. Groovy markets, hip bars and beautiful bronze women! Mind you, nothing can detract from the crowds of Indian tourists - perverts! They line the beach with one handing gripping their penis while the other directs a mobile phone at unsuspecting caucasian flesh. And if they're not directing their own testosterone-fuelled movie then they're frollicking about in the surf like a bunch of pre-pubescents how really should be at school! New Years was a blinder. Euphoric from the cheap beer and some of Goa's finest herbs we partied until the wee hours amid the beautiful stars and refreshing waves. The fires burned and the fireworks exploded in the sky above as we danced our tits off to the hardcore beat that is Goan trance. It's easy to see why these wannabe hippies get stuck on the golden beaches of Goa, but that lifestyle is not for us. After 10 days of little more than sunbathing and swimming in the warm Arabian Sea pastures new beckon - the archealogical delights of Hampi and then later the fiery curries of Chennai!

Mysore

Mysore, though a beautiful city and home to India's booming sandlewood industry wil be best remembered for my first real hissy fit! After three weeks of intense travelling, and a three hour bus ride from Bangalore, we pitched up in this delightful place for several days of recouperation only to be met by hoards of useless Indians! I'm not embarrassed to say that after three weeks of constant questioning ("rickshaw? school pen? 10 rupees. hashish?") I finally blew my top and laid into one unsuspecting local. All I wanted was to stop, light a ciggy and keep walking. But no. This preverbial pain in the arse had to stop me in my tracks by waving a lighter in my face. He then seized the guidebook and, in his best English - which was Hindi with a slant - tried to direct us to some place neither of us knew where! After ripping strips of the idiot and forcing him to turn and run, we headed straight for a bar so I could gather my thoughts over a chilled beer. And for a few moments I really had had enough of this place. The lack or personal space, courtesy and manners. The need for people to make unnecessary noise. The smells. The sight of men pissing and shitting everywhere you turn. The constant haggling and bartering. And the head-bobble. Oh the head-bobbling! Word of warning. Never ask an Indian an open-ended question. Before you know it you'll be some place that doesn't appear on the map being courted by saris salesmen desparate for your dollars. You see the head-bobble is the south Indian way of communicating but for us westerners it just serves to baffle and frustrate! The neck muscles allow the head to move upwards and downwards and from side to side making for an infuriating retort to any manner of question. Why can't the silly sods just say "yes" or "no" instead of bobbling about like a heap of gelo!? As for Mysore, well great place. The state of Karnataka's second largest city is dominated by the stunning Maharajah's Palace, one of the largest palaces in the country. For the record, the original - built of wood - was burnt down in 1897 and rebuilt for the twenty fourth Wodeyar Raja in 1912. Designed in Indo-Saracenic style by the well-known British architect, Henry Irwin, the palace is a treasure house of exquisite carvings and works of art from all over the world.

Nearby, and a muscle-aching climb up a flight of 1000 steps, is the summit of Mysore's famous hills and home to the Chamundeswari temple. Boasting large silver gates and golden idols, the temple is considered hugely religious - the goddesses blessing is said to help devotees fulfill their daily needs - and thousands of pilgrims climb the steps daily in search of improved karmas.

Bangalore & Nandi Hills

Nicknamed "Traffic City" and it's immediately noticable why! Bangalore's crazy network of 10-lane wide roads are rammed with every conceivable vehicle - vans, cars, buses, taxis, rickshaws, lorries....the list is endless. The result is a nose filled to picking point with some of the most grusome boggies discovered by man and a throat so dry and sore that only an ice cold beer will suffice! They say this place is fast becoming home to some of southern India's most chic and expensive bars - but all we saw was over-dressed teenagers trying to act cool. It's also said to be India's techy hub, attracting many of the sub-continent's computer whizz kids. That may well be true, but all the city's good points are lost to delapidated infrastructure and neglect of basic services such as bus stops and public loos. Though first impressions were dour (never before had we seen so many people in such a small space - MG Road was like a Mumbai slum only ten times worse) we set about righting wrongs by exploring the city's few monuments by foot. What a mistake. The mock Windsor Castle took three hours to find and when we finally came upon the scaled down build some cheeky dick wanted to charge us 200 Rupees to take a pic. Thought we'd take a break from Bangalore's fumes by catching a bus to Nandi Hills. The bus journey was rewarding as the road first carved through the city's rich suburbs and then onwards and upwards towards the national park. Here we spent the day trekking and taking in the fantastic vistas - though we were both disturbed by the cushion of smog that towered above Bangalore and its 7m inhabitants some 120km away. But even out in the sticks all is not well. If it wasn't enough that monkey's held us to randsom for our bright yellow bananas, then it certainly was when some mock guru demanded a fist full of rupees for smashing a coconut at the feet of some shrine. "That's it," said Marit. "No more f**king temples!" And so it was we returned to traffic city eager to jump on the first bus out.

Hyderabad, Golconda Fort & Tombs of the Qutb Shah Kings

Two days in Aurangabad is enough, more than enough in fact. Christ, even the small task of onward rail tickets to Hyderabad proved a thankless task as we got our first taste of Indian queuing. Put simply the impatient slackers don't! It's a free for all. A fight for survival and the absolute test of patience and stamina. The small little buggers wriggle past you from every possible angle, shouting and screaming as they frantically wave about documents and passports (yes, it really is an anally retentive system requiring you to fill out forms backed up with passport details and cash withdrawl statements) in a bid to have their requests authorised before the clerk takes a "chai break". And all the time beggars are pulling at your clothes in search of that eluding rupee. A farce, a bloody farce!

Fortunately the second rail trip was free of freedom fighters, thus allowing us an excellent night's sleep during the 15 hour trip to Hyderabad - "Pearl city". Now this place is a treat to be in, despite the problems trying to secure a bed for the night. After several hours of walking we were forced to say "yes" to a flee-bitten hovel in which the bed sheets were stained with bird shit (work that one out) and the squat toilet was home to a new strain of super virus.

But once out on the streets the city soon charms. The smell of chai and sweet milky coffee (that has become an Indian institution) hit you like a brick wall, while the city's thousands of bangle and jewellery sellers will do anything to secure a little business. Big Buddah dominates the city's beautiful lake, while exploring the many bazaars, selling everything from spices to toothbrushes, are a memorable experience.

Home of the Biriyani, Hyderabad boast fine restaurants of all shape and size and we manged to dote on our tummies during our four day stay with some stunning Indian cusine. Aside from the beautiful mosques and minarets that dominate the city skyline, Hyderabad is home to Golconda Fort, one of the most stunning fortress complexes in the whole of India. The Fort dates back to the early 13th century, when this south eastern part of the country was ruled by the Kakatiyas. The bulk of the ruins of this fort, date from the time of the Qutub Shahi kings, who had ruled this area in the 16th and 17th century. The fortress is built on a granite hill 120 metres high, surrounded by massive ramparts.

Golconda consists of four distinct forts with a 10km long outer wall having 87 semi circular bastions; some still mounted with cannons, eight gateways, four drawbridges and number of royal chambers and halls, temples, mosques, magazines and stables inside.

Aurangabad & Ajanta Caves

Oh how things can change overnight eh - quite literally given the first taste of India's ancient rail network! The scene that greeted us as we arrived at the city's Chatrapati Shivaji Terminus (an awsome looking building erected, of course, by the Brits) will never be forgotten. Imagine 100 Eustons piled on top of each other and then multiply the number of bodies ten fold!

Heading on our first overnight journey - to Aurangabad some 400km east - we were stunned to find half a dozen smelly bar stewards curled up in our designated beds some 90 minutes ahead of departure. And the situation just got worse! By the time we were ready to hit the sack more than three times the number of permitted bodies has engulfed the carriage (old, young, healthy and sick) giving it the look and feel of one of those lorries you pass on the motorway packed full with cattle on their way to the slaugher house! Course just our luck that we opted for the same train as some 2000 freedom fighters heading east after a convention in Mumbai. Tickets, what tickets! No wonder so many buggers die when the trains here derail or crash!

We arrived in Aurangabad in one piece (though in desperate need of delicing and deoderant) at about 5am and didn't have to wander the streets for long before a group of bedraggled street urchins collared us and informed us of a "good place to stay". Given the night's adventures we simply followed like homesick dogs and were releaved to curl up under clean sheets less than half an our later.

As for the town, what a shithole! If the rest of India is like this then so help us God! Rickshaw drivers with a death wish dominate the trash-ridden streets, while feral goats, pigs, cows and dogs follow you around constantly. People are rude and no help whatsoever (they merely point with their noses and chins without so much as looking you in the eye), while the dust and fumes make nose-picking a hazard.

Mind you, the caves are something special, if a little monotonous. Discovered by a British hunting party in the mid 1800s the offered us our first serious insight into the history that hangs over the sub-continent like a thick layer of cloud. The first Buddhist cave monuments date from the 2nd and 1st centuries BC. During the Gupta period (5th and 6th centuries A.D.), many more richly decorated caves were added to the original group. The paintings and sculptures of Ajanta, considered masterpieces of Buddhist religious art, have had a considerable artistic influence.a period (5th and 6th centuries A.D.) and more richly decorated caves were added to the original group. Paintings are considered masterpieces of Buddhist religious art and have had a considerable artistic influence since.

Mumbai

Just found time to stop and draw breath after a chaotic few days. Mumbai, or the "Gateway to India" is immense, with a real "in ya face" feel that only the sub-continent can truly possess.

It took just minutes for the mayhem to rear its ugly head - the traffic outside the airport was like nothing we'd seen before. The best way to detail the chaos is that the taxi journey to the Colaba district (about 22km) took longer than the two hour flight from Muscat! Seriously, the roads were just a sea of vehicles pulsing intoxicating gases into the air!

Opted for the city's cheapest hostel, The Salvation Army. Here the dorms are basic and toilets....interesting! But at the end of the day a bed's a bed, right? So with our first accommodation sorted we set about exploring this wonderfully colourful metropolis - and what a city it proved to be!

Far from daunting, the place is everything you want in a city boasting 15m people, and more. Different districts boast different surprises - the gulf between rich and poor has never been more apparent. 5 Star hotels line Colaba's Marine prommande, their backs turned on the ever-growing slums housing some of India's poorest.

Already the traditions and customs of the Hindus has had an intoxicating affect on us, while the businessman in every Indian is all too obvious. Where ever you turn some malnourished bloke will try to flog something useless, while the fruit and veg varies in price depending on facial colour!

They say this city's the most expensive in India. Well that'll stand us in good stead given that a great curry sets you back about 60p and you can wash it down with a litre of Kingfisher for about 80p - and that's expensive?! And though we're taking it easy with the food, so as to not invite the shits, the variety of restaurants, eateries and street stalls is truly amazing

The Maidan dominates the city's business centre, packed full of young wannabe Tendulkars! Victorian and neo-classical architecture towers above the wide streets while some of the newer buildings would put London's CBD to shame.

Then there is Chowpatty Beach, an idyllic stretch of sand where locals congregate every evening for sunrise and to gulp down an eccelectic mix of dishes, such as Mumbai favourite "puri". Temples jump out at every corner, while a number of the city's famous, both dead and alive, are remembered by way of towering monuments, street names and bars.

The urban train network must run on blood, sweat and tears, but is hugely efficient and runs like clockwork - though the melee that unfolds when a train is announced certainly takes some getting used to! And we've clocked up countless miles in our bid to make sure we unearth its many delights! I wonder if things will stay like this, or whether the novelty will quickly wear off and the India portrayed in the west soon begins to take hold!?