And so the last week passed by with normalities such as an elephant visiting the slum and Julie giving me a backy to the local beach to save me 300 rupees (the bruises lasted for days!). Suddenly it was the last day of volunteering, in which Vicky and I caused chaos by taking many photos of the children, making paper hats and giving them balloons to play with, thoroughly annoying the teacher! I was annoyed at myself for feeling pleased that it was over, for feeling I had made very little difference to these children's lives. When I asked around, it appeared we all felt a sense of disillusionment at the part volunteering plays within Indian society. We were thoroughly disappointed with our company Idex for it's focus on acquisition of new projects when the existing projects were so poorly run. They were of course motivated by profit rather than charity. However, Dilraj and I in particular came to feel that the lack of change was actually a problem with Indian society in general. We were sent to help the poorest children and to teach them English, when they are taught that they and their children and their children's children will never leave the slums. The caste system may have become vastly unfashionable, but 'knowing your place' has become the very basis of Indian society. I remember asking Dilraj at the beginning of the trip about the caste system and how you could see the outward signs of it. However, by the end of the trip I had come to realise that your caste is ingrained in the mind of every Indian. It was sad to think that educating the poorest may actually be detrimental for making them believe they could be more, when they were destined to remain where they were born.

I spent the afternoon preparing to leave and (ahem) finally posting my post cards... Imagine the scene in English Post offcie if you will (Dad is particularly familiar with this situation), you wish to post your postcards, there is no queue to post but you are left standing there for several minutes as the man peruses some paperwork, he eventually grunts at you and demands 51p, you give him 60p, he gives you a pained look and asks 'change?' You say 'sorry that's all I have', he grunts, throws your stamps at you (which are in such small denominations you need at least 6 stamps per postcard) and you have to stick them on. You finish sticking them on, give the postcards back to him to post and he presents you with 9p worth of stamps, because he has no change. It's your second to last day, why would you need any stamps?????? This my friends is India. The land without change. Instead of being given change you will find yourself with a variety of unwanted items from various stores including cafes, pharmacies and supermarkets. Never before have I felt the need in England to apologise for giving a five pound note when the total is 4.50. Where does all the change go you may ask? It is one of life's biggest mysteries, which remains as yet unsolved.

Our last evening was spent in Colva where 14 of us had dinner at Pasta Hut (intriguingly completely unrelated to Pizza Hut), where I splashed out on tiger prawns. They clearly knew it was our last day as we were treated to the traditional Indian restaurant experience. By that I do of course mean receiving your starter after your main course, no cutlery, being overcharged and waiting an hour and a half for your meal. Awwwww India...... :). After a few cocktails we attempted to get a taxi back only to discover all the taxis go home at 10pm. Bummer. So whilst we waited we find to our joy that the ever amazing coffee shop 'Coffee Day' was still open. This Indian version of Starbucks serves the most amazing chocolate brownie (as pictured in my facebook pics), it seemed fitting to enjoy yet another at 1am on my last day in Goa!

The next day we finished packing and Dilraj and I took another quick trip to Colva to say goodbye to the beach and the Arabian sea. After an emotional farewell we headed to the train station for another long journey. This time I was treated to the top bunk and didn't sleep a wink because of the various snorers and coughers that kept me awake all night. GRRRRR. We arrived at our hotel at 7am, fittingly the Hotel Symphony that we first arrived at. Dilraj, Anna and I arranged a driver for 1200 rupees (about 15 pounds) for 12 hours. After establishing that Mumbai does not wake up until 10am, we eventually discovered a place that was open for breakfast and then went to see the Gateway to India. We eventually decided to do the boat trip to Elephanta Island, little realising that the 120 rupee fee we paid for the boat did not include all the additional tourist taxes we had to pay once we had reached the island. After Dilraj kicked up much fuss at being a NRI (non-resident Indian), the security men took away our tickets (without tearing them), gave Dilraj her money back and slipped mine and Anna's money into his pocket. Our tickets were then put back for re-sale. TII (this is India). Elephanta Island for anyone's information is completely devoid of elephants, but instead a place of ancient caves and inhabited by pesky monkeys. Craziness!

After an argument with our taxi driver, we eventually settled on 1080 rupees as he wanted to leave us 2 hours early saying it would only cost us 50 rupees for a tuktuk back from our restaurant. How wrong he was.... The tuk tuk we got in, nodded in agreement at the name Hotel Symphony and the card I gave him with the address. The route should have taken 20 minutes, but ended up taking 70 minutes, after he got extremely confused. He spoke to the hotel on Dilraj's phone three times, stopped countless passers-by, and assured us he knew where it was. Eventually we got out, refused to pay him anymore than 50 rupees (he was demanding double) and we got into a massive argument. An Indian couple stopped to help us, translated for us, paid him off and then walked us to our hotel. Another side to India completely! Unfortunately Anna had then missed her airport transfer but she eventually managed to get another.

The following day, I waited over an hour and a half for my transfer. Every 10 minutes I went to speak to the man on reception, who assured me it was perfectly acceptable to turn up an hour before an international flight.... What crap! Just as we were about to give up and get our own taxi, it finally turned up. I turned up to the airport with 10 minutes before they would no longer check me in! The plane journey was uneventful and I was thoroughly surprised that my STA man was waiting for me at the other side. He took me in his air-conditioned taxi to Khao San Road where I discovered with my hostel was actually pretty nice too! I went for a wonder along the road, which was mayhem, but came back overwhelmed and ready for bed. I was on my own in Bangkok!!!

Miss you all xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx