India is the most incredible country on earth. The smells of the place will linger with me forever; burning sandalwood - surrounding a roaring corpse inferno or silently smoking in the doorway of a temple, Excrement and urine everywhere from cow, ox, goat, monkey and (most commonly) man. Used fuel spluttering from the engines of trucks, mopeds, buses and cars (give me a Hindustan Ambassador over any supercar!) or the pungeunt odour of the cycle rickshaw-wallah's armpits as he urges his sinewy muscles to get you and your bags up that hill. Cumin, fenugreek and garlic, garlic garlic. One minute you might be delighting over the smells from one corner and seconds later you cant hold your nose fast enough.

The tastes of delicately spiced curries, coastal fresh fish by the beach and vegetables pretty much everywhere else, the rubbery pathetic yet ubiquitous paneer (as if somebody chopped up a cheesestring after a few days in the sun), and spicy meet kababs. Washed down with the worlds worst beer when lucky, or tepid water the rest of the time, and pushed into mouths with a million different types of bread; roti, paratha, papad, naan, chappati - all seemingly created to aid you in the struggle of eating cutlery-free without the locals gawping at you as if you are doing riverdance on the tables.

My eardrums will never be the same again; never before had i heard honking so frequently. For those of the generation familiar with the driving theory test imagine instead of clicking for every possible moving potential danger, you slam your fist down on the horn for a good ten seconds, and then every other few seconds for luck. In every bazaar, stall or shop the man inches from your shoulder '"ýes sir? yes sir?" (never madam whoever he is addressing). Spluttering engines, frying foods, beggars, street hawkers, and converstaions in a million different languages (forget regional accents - every twenty miles the language changes).

The colours will stay with me longest; the red saffrons, green corianders and yellow tumerics of the food to the bold beautiful bright colours of the sarees and salwars, always trimmed with gold. The poorest of the poor are scrubbed to the nines always trying to look their best in shirts and trousers - putting the scruffy backpackers in scrappy singlets and fraying shorts to shame.

My favourite thing in the whole world is the India head wobble. The subtlest of gestures can mean so much, just a shake from shoulder to shoulder can (possibly) mean yes, no, maybe, not sure, of course, youre welcome, hello friend, time for a deal and probably so much more. In a way i think the head wobble sums up India; it always appears happy whatever the circumstances, never wants to say no, may leave you completely confused and frustrated, yet you turn away grinning from ear to ear.

I love India.

It has been an epic journey of one year and two weeks, we have seen and done so many wonderful things, but now it is time to come home :)