The tuk tuk drives away leaving me dramatically gazing at the newly tattooed 7 on my finger. Alone in India.
3 changes on the bus and a breakdown in communication with a bus driver that leaves me waiting, eating papaya with him for about and hour and a half, eventually I end in Mcleodganj (I can't pronounce it either). The next morning I attempt to sign myself up on the vipassana course. Successfully. Racing back down to-that name I can't pronounce- and collecting my belongings. As I settle in to this Forrest retreat for 10 days.
Stepping out of the vipassana gates I head to town and decide to get a haircut. This is one of the reasons I love India. I enter this tiny shop, 1 seat only, settle in and explain what I would like. It's not quite what I asked for but it will suffice. Then he gets the thread out and starts treading my forehead. I wasn't aware I had that much of a hairy forehead but he kept assuring me the Israelis loved it, and if they love it then so must I. So then he moves on to my eye brows. Didn't ask for this either but the English in me means I will be silent until I leave the shop and then I'll complain to first person who will listen. After the threading, he shaves some of my eyebrows. Again I say nothing and assure myself that all those Israelis can't be wrong. Threading incident over I check the damage. Apart from a little more off than usual and the bright red pulsating forehead, it's not bad. He tells me to relax in the chair and loosen my neck and then BAM! Cracks my neck to the side and I hear the bone crunching sound of my spine clicking into place. It felt amazing, so I encourage him to do the other side. After all this he grabs a towel and I relax, safe in the knowledge that he just wiping the hair off my...BAM! Cracks one of my ears. I couldn't believe how amazing it felt and once again encouraged him to do the other side. Finally he winds down with a head and neck massage. I pay him the £1.50 and I'm on my way feeling like a new woman.
The next day as I familiarise myself with the outside world again, myself and some of the girls from meditation make plans to go on a hike. We end up talking for hours about astrology, yoga, travel plans and the Nepali earthquake. Having left my passport at vipassana I leave to go and collect it before having to get my bus at 530. The manager of the centre doesn't show up until 530 and penultimately I miss my bus. But we must remember when in India, anything is possible. I race in a taxi to try and catch my bus, and ultimately catch it.
I arrive in Delhi at 5 in the morning, head straight to the train station and book my ticket to Goa. With a few hours to kill I roam the streets. An insufferable heat mixed with the polluted air makes for an uncomfortable one. I visit Hanymun tomb, a world heritage site which is the predecessor of the Taj Mahal also housing deceased Mughal royalty. I visit the Indian parliament and glimpse at the gate of India. A memorial for the Indian nationals that Britain dragged into the war with them. Erected in February 1921.
On the surface Delhi is a city with grand architecture, historical buildings and expensive eateries. But the streets hold emaciated men, women and children. The stench of faeces stings the nostrils and the smog melts the eyes.
3 o'clock and it's time to board my train. Begin the marathon 36 hour journey. As the heat becomes even more insufferable, the bathroom crawls with cockroaches and the minute mantras walk along the aisles announcing: CHAI COFFEE CHAI COFFEE CHAI
KANA KANA KANA KANA
SAMOSI SAMOSI SAMOSI
As the hours pass and we move south, I'm stood at the open door of the trains looking out at the changing scenery. From pine trees and forrest in the north, the hot smoggy air of the city, the dry fields of the country begins to turn into lush green jungle. The palm trees, banana trees and jack fruit in abundance as I make my way into the tropical temperatures of Southern Indian to be reunited with my MAAAATTTTEEEEE!