Clickety, clickety, click, woooo woooo, chai tea chai - these are the sounds of the train while my body gently jostles to the rhythm of its movement. I was stretched out on the upper berth, that I had unceremoniously mounted with many dark eyes watching while the man in the berth below me shielded his head from my swinging body and Jim tried to assist me and simultaneously protect others. It was the dance of a tired 58 year old on a moving train. Not particularly graceful.

I awakened from a decent night's sleep, resting on my berth...I had applied all the accoutrements necessary for me to sleep the night: eye mask, kerchief laced with immunity-building essential oils, ear plugs and the 'piece de resistance - a good sleeping pill. I was swaddled in the clean sheet provided and my body was wrapped around my backpack. Would my bladder hold for the 14 hours it would take to get to a non-train toilet? It had held for the first 12 but the next two before we arrived at our guest house in Hampi would be the hardest.

I watched the man across from me sneeze vigourously into his hands as he then wiped them on the wool blanket that would later be folded up and reused on the train. Yuch! Confirmation - no matter how cold the AC gets, this body will never go near those wool blankets!

Our travel health nurse, Isobel's, words rang in my ears, "there is **** everywhere in India; it is in the air." Although dirty and dusty so far, this wasn't as evident as in Hampi where all the streets had smears of cow, dog, water buffalo and even elephant and human ****, mixed in with the smell of urine. I was constantly bugging Jim about walking in our room with his shoes on and lounging on the bed after a long hot day wearing the same clothes he had been sitting or lying on the ground with while taking photos.

Oh my, I hear my mother in me...

Coincidently, my father's name was Jim. "Oh, Jim!," she'd exclaim with her voice rising up and emphasizing the 'Jim', as she disapproved of something he was doing. I obviously was raised by a nurse, always cognizant of germs but thankfully not obsessed or I'd never have set foot in India. Jim also was raised by a nurse who did not impact him the same way. He is more at peace with the germ factor...and his mom's name was Peace. Huh.

Hampi is a world of its own. There are humongous boulders piled high around the ruins like they were placed there by a giant. The ancient city of over 500 years old and the area is peppered with this boulder strewn landscape. Woven around these ruins is everyday life happening - the morning rituals of washing body and clothes in the river, vendors selling their wares from their makeshift stalls and guest houses serving food, chasing the monkeys away and hanging newly washed bedsheets on their rooftops.

It's different from other heritage sites like Ankor Wat in Cambodia or Tikal in Guatelala where countries have segregated life from the ruins creating a specialness, a sacredness of times gone by. India has tried, although not successfully in Hampi as the 'living' India will not be suppressed.

This is India. As a kind woman helping me find our train car as I struggled with my backpack said, "It's not a bed of roses, but what an experience!"

To see more of Jim's photos and in higher resolution, visit his Flickr site.