After having spent so much time in one place, I had really settled into a daily routine, and had several good friends to hang out with. I was counting down the days before I was leaving, to mentally begin to prepare me for one of the maddest places on earth: India. A overcrowded and poverty stricken country awaits me, and Bali is so comfortable in comparison. I had breakfast for the last time in Kafe - the place I had had most of my meals in Ubud, with Lena and Daniel. I was glad to tell them 'see you in Norway or Sweden', instead of the usual 'have a good life - see you on facebook' kind of thing.

I walked home and started packing, when I suddenly realized that I still hadn't picked up my laundry. In these humid countries, the only way to wash your clothes is to let somebody with a dryer do it - otherwise the clothes will never dry, and the smell is just too much to bear. They wash everybody's clothes at the same time in big washing machines, and the way to know your clothes apart from other people's, is to put a little coloured thread in each item. Adds a little woolen itch if you don't remove it before you wear it. Luckily my laundrette was just across the street, so it didn't take too much time. The bus picked me up at the hotel at noon, and so I was off.

I had a transit in Hong Kong, and it was fun to at least have been in the airport, if nothing else. The music pouring out from the speakers in the place was Christmas music! I was humming away to 'Gingle bells' and felt a touch of western culture, so familiar, and so out of place in this warm - and to me - summery part of the world.

The last time I was in India was when I was 19 years old - it was in February '94 - winter Olympics in Lillehammer, Norway. We went to India from London, and I still remember how overwhelmed I was in the waiting hall. I saw women my own age, with several children and pregnant bellies - and I still felt like a teenager. The culture shock was big - and I was sick on the plane. We had a great trip though, but after two weeks we couldn't get home quickly enough. Me and Veronica decided that we were never going back - so much poverty, filth and chaos! We went back to Norway - and that was back in the day when we had to wait to get our photos developed. The day arrived when Vero and I sat on the steps outside our school (Vestoppland Folkehoyskole) and looked through a big stack of pictures. We were laughing and remembering all the beauty and the fun times - maybe one day we would go back after all.

So this time I go to India from Hong Kong, with other people from Asia. The westerners are few, but they all look like savvy travellers. Can I do this again, by myself this time? Some retail therapy in Hong Kong calms my nerves, and when I board the plane with all the Indians it's no biggie. No migraines on the plane, just another day of travel. I arrive in Chennai at one am, and finally find my way to a taxi. Many people stare, but I'm getting used to it now. I mean, how often do they get to see a tall viking-looking woman? I would be staring too. And after Fiji and Bali, the surroundings are not such a big change as it once was from Norway. I sleep in the Royal Regency, not as fancy as it sounds, but safe and clean. My gut feeling tells me to get out of Chennai as quickly as possible, and I head out the next day. I take a taxi from Chennai to Pondicherry, and skip the local transport. It feels a bit luxurious, but after a while I'm very glad I made that choice. It is quite a long way, and it rains - rivers are forming in the streets and I can just imagine what it would be like to change different buses with my backpack, and not knowing exactly where to go. And the cities here are huge. In grave contrast to Bali, there is nothing that compels me to pull out my camera. Everything seems to be falling apart, there is trash and ruble everywhere, and it just feels busy but empty if you get what I mean. The faces are lined with hard work and few rewards, the open smiling faces of Fiji seems a universe away. Life here is hard. I've seen it before and I new it awaited me, and I long for a place to settle down for the night where I can feel safe. I guess safe from desperate Indians (the newspapers are unbelievable), and a standard and surroundings that I am not able to live in. It makes me feel a bit princessy. I have happily shared my accommodation with other people, endless marching ants and geckos, not so happily with cockroaches and mosquitoes, but I draw the line there. I have gotten used to a more basic standard, and don't mind it as long as it feels safe and somewhat clean. But I do exhale and enjoy myself that much more when I am by the ocean, or can live in a light and fresh space. Driving several hours along the coast, nothing makes me feel excited, very few times do I see something that grabs my attention. I don't want this part of the trip to be about survival, I want to enjoy myself. So princess it is.

So now I'm off to Auroville, a community just outside of Pondicherry. I have been in India for less than 24 hours and have already felt the confusion, unclarity and shadiness of this place. I paid the transfer from the airport to the hotel back in June when I booked my ticket. I get my luggage in the airport and walk out to the sea of people waiting to pick up their relatives. Amongst them are the taxi drives waving their cards to find the right person to take back to their hotel. I was certain my name would be on one of them. I always thought that would be cool. It's not, so I go back into the airport to ask for help - and I remember I am probably going to need some rupees sooner or later. In the help desk the woman that helps me doesn't even read my note, but tells me that I should line up for the prepaid taxi. Out again. After travelling for a while now, the people who want to talk to me and earn some money off me are easy to get rid of. I go over to the prepaid desk and a taxi driver wants to take me to my hotel. I tell him I have already paid for the taxi, and am not going to give him any money, and I also ask him if he works in the prepaid place. Yes, no problem. He takes me to an ATM and we're off. Once at the hotel I want to give him a tip, and don't have any small money. So I give him a big note. There is some confusion, and he comes with me into the hotel. They don't know anything about the prepaid taxi, and want to tell me that the note is just about the hotel. I tell them to read it, and I have to explain things a couple of times. So here we are; the taxi driver, the porter, the security guard, four reception guys and me. They tell me my travel agent has fooled me, the taxi driver wants a big sum of money and I realize that it wasn't the hotel that was paid to pick me up, and that I should probably not have settled for any answer before someone had actually read the note and agreed with what it said. Oh well. It isn't the money - but the feeling of being a fool. Similar thing happens when the travel agent in the hotel tells me that the taxi driver knows where I'm going the next day. A couple of hours later the taxi driver shows up and tells the new travel agent that he doens' know. The latter is clueless and wants to find it in my book. He calls a number, no reply. I suggest he look it up on the internet, since he's sitting next to a computer. He finds a list of pages with the search result, but he doesn't open them, he just reads what it says. I tell him to open one, and he does. Still no direction or address to be found. I suggest he searches for it on the google map thingy - and he has probably had too much female involvement, so he says the driver knows where it is.

We get closer and closer to the place, and finally I spot the sign that says Auroville - Quiet. He doesn't want to see the line of arrows pointing to the direction, so he asks a guy if he knows a place called Auroville. I tell him I've found it, and after a long time with this man, he turns around and follows the arrows. I am actually not stressed or 'agita' about this, but long for a nice place to acclimatize. In every place I've been, it seems it takes a few days to get into the groove of how the place works, where my place is in all of it. I guess my feeling here is even that I want to hide a bit. In the taxi I was happy to watch the world outside without being so visible myself; the windows in the car was dark.

I sent an e-mail to the place a couple of days ago, but has had no reply. Auroville is a big place, and 'Quiet' is 6 km away from the main area. I know this is the high season, but hope there is a room for me. We finally get there, and I go out to look for the reception. The waves in the ocean are huge, and I'm drenched after 1 second. I find a very friendly woman in the office, and yes, I can stay for a week. Hurrah! The taxi driver is sent off with a tip, and I am shown to my room. Clean, bright and comfortable. No TV or other useless frills - just a perfect room. It is really quiet here, I can only hear the rain outside. The food here is legendary and supper is at 7. I haven't eaten since breakfast, and I'm looking forward to some vegetarian Indian food, and to meet the other people that stays here.