A Perfect Day

Those of you suffering from the Monday (or is it Tuesday?) morning blues may not want to read this, as it is going to consist of one of those sickening, holiday catalogue type descriptions of a blissful day. I will try to keep it relatively succint, and not too nauseating because, a) there is nothing more boring than reading about someone else having a marvellous time...apart from perhaps seeing the photos; and b) I want to have some friends to return to at the end of my travels!

So, it all started with a bowl of porridge. Now in order to fully appreciate this, you have to understand that, firstly I am a bit of a cereal addict, who has been known to eat porridge or cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Secondly, for the last two months I have had many weird and wonderful things for breakfast, including parathas, chapatis, bananas, pancakes, omelettes, nuts and raisins, fruit, biscuits, chocolate and even curry...but no cereal. Well actually I tell a lie, there was porridge at APK, but it was made with rice, or vermicelli or some other unidentifiable grain, and not oats, as any self-respecting porridge really ought to be. But here in Rishikesh - which is incredibly Westernised - I was presented with a large bowl of porridge, that was of a temperature, sweetness and consistency that would have satisfied even that fusspot Goldilocks. I ate it, sitting outside in warm sunshine whilst reading my book. Perfect.

Having complained bitterly about the extreme heat and cold I have experienced here in India, I should probably take a minute to say that the weather in Rishikesh at the moment is, well, to use that word again, perfect. Balmy blue skies, light breezes, temperature in the high 20s, cool enough at night to sleep...great for me, not so great for an interesting blog.

So after my perfect breakfast, in the perfect weather, I decided to try and find the perfect waterfall that I'd heard about on the backpacker's grapevine, which is actually more of a fully flourishing vineyard here in the traveller's mecca of Rishikesh. As instructed by one of the Aussie lasses, I walked about 2km walk out of the town along the main road and then, just as the guy from Israel promised, I saw the turning off to the waterfall. As advised, I had to go into a very unofficial looking bamboo hut, where several men in uniforms were sitting round drinking chai. They relieved me of 30 rupees, asked to see my passport and laboriously wrote out the permit I needed to walk the 1.5km up to the waterfall.

I set off up the path through a pleasantly wooded area; after several minutes walking I started to get the distinct impression that something wasn't right. As I continued, the feeling intensified and then suddenly, it struck me; I was completely alone, and it was totally silent, apart from birds singing and insects. It was incredible, where had India gone?! Surely, someone, or something, would have wanted to join me (or at the very least try and sell me something) in this beautiful spot, only km from Rishikesh? Just as I was wondering whether I had been spirited away into some parallel universe, I encountered a few other walkers and the reassuringly familiar sight of some local people running up and down carrying loads on their heads.

The walk was just lovely - uphill, but nothing too strenuous. As I walked, butterflies of all shapes, sizes and colours fluttered around my head, in the exaggeratedly romantic way they only ever do in Disney cartoons. Vivid blue dragon-flies helpfully posed for pictures on rocks, sunbeams flirted with the branches of the trees, and the lively gushing of the waterfall grew ever louder. It was...perfect.

Just as I was starting to get more hot and sticky than I would have liked, I reached the top where the waterfall spills down over a precipice creating a pool, just perfect for hot and sticky walkers to cool off in. There was no one else there, except for a short period where my paradise was shared with two German women. I spent an hour splashing about in refreshing, crystal clear water, then drying off in the sun, making and eating my salad sandwich on BROWN bread (again a luxury I haven't enjoyed since the UK), reading my book, relaxing...OK, ok I promised to keep this short, and quite frankly I could be describing the caribbean, Hawaii or even warmer parts of Europe, when what I want to be thinking about is India, so I'll try to hurry it up.

So my perfect day continued with a walk back to the place I was staying at; sitting in yet more sunshine, consuming another chapter of my book, eating again (this time a big slice of cake, with my customary chai), whilst contemplating how to round off my perfect day...perhaps a stroll into Rishikesh to watch the sunset over the Luxman Jhula temple; a pizza, or pasta and some steamed vegetables at one of the restaurants; a phone call to my sister. But it turns out my stomach had other plans, because just at that moment I felt, and heard, an ominous rumble. So those of you starting to yawn or sicken at this tale of perfection, need feel no further envy, as I spent the remainder of the day nursing my stomach cramps and never straying too far from the WC! Later on, rather than swapping exotic travelling tales with my fellow back-packers as I had envisaged, we ended up in an engrossing conversation about the various stomach complaints we had suffered and effective remedies! So, not quite the perfect end to my perfect day, but then that would really be rather dull - and sooo not India - wouldn't it.