All India Permit...

"Ummm Ed, is that an elephant!?" The dense mist parted and the dark shadow we assumed was an approaching lorry reavled itself as a gently swaying elephant, ambling down the middle of the road. Not the rush hour traffic we usually encounter!

We'd spent a very peaceful three days staying with a family in Ganj, a village near the tourist draw of Orchha. They were in fact one of eight families involved in a small community project, Friends of Orchha, aiming to improve the quality of life of some of the poorest people through responsible tourism. Each family was offered an interest free loan from which they could renovate one room, install a dry composting toilet and shower and provide hand washing facilities. This room, through the NGO, could be booked by tourists looking to avoid another night in a hotel. The family could also offer home cooked food and more importantly chai for a small cost. They had specifically chosen the lower caste families who, in the societal hierarchy, came very much at the bottom. At the beginning of the programme, many families raised concerns that tourists would not want to eat food that had been prepared by people of a lower caste. Apparently it took some persuading to explain that tourists would not know, care about or fully understand these entrenched caste taboos.

Now however, the programme has been running for over a decade and almost all have repaid their loan from income generated from the room rent and food. Their monthly salary, which averaged 2,000 rupees a month (£23), has increased to nearly 10,000 (£120). Our room came off a small courtyard, with a freshly spread soft cow dung floor, charpoy (bed/table/seat/bike repair stand) in one covered corner and beautiful smelling roses in the other. The ceiling was decorated with old saris sewn together and the walls were vibrant red. We ate our meals with the boisterous, happy family sat on the floor around the gas stove (its not quite cold enough yet to stoke up the fire). They all, including the dad, sung and danced like Bollywood stars completely comfortable in front of us.

We did talk about more serious things in broken 'Hinglish'; lack of education of the village women; abortion; birth control and the aspirations of the eldest daughter in a family with no son (she wants to join the army!). Their home provided the perfect escape and refuge for us to visit the palaces around which Orchha was built.

There's definitely a good reason why so many tourists visit Orchha. We spent a happy two days pottering around the many palaces, ruins, chhatris (cenotaphs) and temples. The symmetry, endless towers and staircases of the Indo-Islamic architecture made it feel like you were wondering around an Escher painting.

Thick mists shrouded the minarets and high arched walk ways adding a sense of drama to the vast decaying palaces. This felt all the more real standing 5 storeys up on a rickety balcony, watching a vulture perched like a statue above you, not a health and safety officer in sight! One of the most magical places we found was the Baobab tree standing like a vast upside down toilet brush over looking the village.

We left Orchha in the same thick mists that had greeted us and headed out to cross the Betwa river. We joined thousands of pilgrims who had come to bathe in the holy water to celebrate Ram Ram's wedding, an important Hindu God. It was while we were peddeling through the nature reserve on the other side of the river that we were greeted by our lumbering long trunked friend. While Kat got the camera at the ready, I slowly rolled over to say hello. The elephant's keepers beckoned me across the road and as I stood in his path, he gave me a morning kiss on my bike helmet! Then, before we knew it, he was slowly swaying off into the mist again. As we cycled off, the whole experience seemed a bit dream like... a kiss from an elephant at 7 in the morning?!

We then had two days of cycling to reach our next little stop in Khajuraho, this time with a homestay called Friends in Khajuraho. Khajuraho is famous for its beautiful temples and exquisite stone carving. It's real draw is the nature of the carving. One of its most famous scenes shows that "man and horse really can be best friends" says the Lonely Planet! The Chandelas (folk responsible for building the temples nearly a thousand years ago) were "generally at war when they weren't inventing new sexual positions!" Both elements of their lifestyle was represented liberally in the carvings.

Being a tourist favourite, the good coffee, which has become a small quest since arriving in India, was free flowing but with that came the persistent touts and inevitable requests for "rupee chocolate schoolpen" from the local slightly feral children. Given the current on going debacle with demonitarisation in India, the shop keepers were looking a little more desperate than normal, as none of the tourists had any rupees to spend. The only ATM with money was out of action after a helpful monkey broke in and attempted to do a little bit of rewiring! Trying to speak to the bank manager is not without its hazards either. Asking politely where his office is located whilst a guard casually holds a double barrelled shot-gun inches from your nose is taking some getting used too! So once again, our homestay in the old village was a refuge from the bustle of the city.

It was run by Vio and her husband Vijay. Vio was in fact from France and had lived in Leeds and Edinburgh before moving to Varanasi and studying Hindi and Indian classical violin for 7 years. For the last two years she had been married to Vijay and living in his childhood home in Khajuraho. It was really interesting taking to Vio about adapting to life in an Indian family, extended relations coming and going, different people asleep on the floor each night and all that with a nine month old baby. She said there are always people ready to share their opinions on how best to rear a small child and it sounded like a struggle at times reconciling the culture clash. Undoubtedly, the family seemed completely at ease and Lila, their little baby, is going to grow up with an amazingly diverse outlook not to mention at least four languages! We certainly felt very happy to have our first cup of "proper" Yorkshire Tetley tea with Vio doing her best Yorkshire accent.

We left Khajuraho in the chilly mists that are a regular feature these days. As we climbed into Panna Tiger Reserve we left the mist behind and rode through the shafts of warm sunlight that filtered through the jungle. We rounded another hairpin and saw two rangers next to their parked jeep. One had an antennae in hand. As we cycled passed, we jokingly cried 'tiger?!', not expecting the reply we got. They both nodded excitedly and pointed just below where we'd been cycling! Like the brave explorers we are, we didn't hang around and upped the cadence for the next few kilometers! We made it through the perfectly quiet wilderness to Panna, our stop over.

Panna had signs of old money, built on its famous diamond mines. It's many grand buildings had an air of faded glory and nature seemed to reclaiming their roof tops. As we watched a brilliant orange sun set over the quiet lake at the edge of town, surrounded by the crumbling domes of temples, we were reminded of a quote from the book we're  reading, A Suitable Boy, "...even those who live in great mansions turn to dust in the end, in which even donkeys roll". Ed was lucky to be able to sit and have such philosophical thoughts, after a close encounter with a cow in the market earlier that afternoon. Having just picked a lovely bunch of bananas, he crossed the road a little to close for comfort for a passing bull who, much to the amusement of the stall traders, swung his head and attempted to bury his horn in Ed's bottom! Having experienced the result of twice daily daal on Ed's bowels, I do have some sympathy for the cow!

We then started a nine day plod to Kushinagar to see a serenely sleeping Buddha. Dropping from Panna to the plains and the Ganges below was a dream this morning. Clear and smooth roads led us down the densely forrested mountain side through misty morning sunlight. Along the way, we passed what must have been nearly 50 women, each carrying a huge load of firewood perched on their head, all walking down hill. God knows what time they must have got up. In amongst them, a lone man ambled along carrying absolutely f**king nothing! I asked him as we passed "where's your wood?" He waved and smiled! Another example of the often gaping chasam between the workload of men and women. Some men obviously do work hard but if the chai stalls are anything to go by, a fair few could do with a kick up the arse!

It was so cold today we didn't even take our coats off and are even considering a pair of gloves! We wouldn't want you thinking you're the only ones struggling through this winter. We had to wear scarves, wolly hats and puffer jackets to go shopping this afternoon... possibly slight over kill but winter appears to be coming for everyone in the Northern Hemisphere. Even the goats and baby buffalo have started sporting their winter knitwear. 

Just the other day, pottering along under another clear blue sky, we chatted about the last time we'd seen a cloud. It had literally been two months. We've learnt that saying these stupid things in India normally results in the opposite happening almost immediately. We hadn't imagined that we would be crossing the Ganges in mist so dense you could barely see your front wheel but that was what Mother Ganga had planned! As it turns out, the Gangetic basin is bloody misty this time of year and weeks can go by without it clearing. A combination of a cooling breeze from the Himalaya, a change in the prevailing winds, its lowly altitude (basically sea level), horrible pollution and the myriad of irrigation channels means that it's not just Cornwall that suffers from mizzle!

We found the perfect way to fight the cold in Atarra, a little dirty but charming town built around a railway junction. After posting our Chritsmas cards in a post office which looked more like a second world war sorting office (likely 250 rupees down the drain so don't hold your breath for our seasons greetings!) and having India's Best Roti (a title we have bestowed after months of research), cooked on the street in a clay oven, we settled down for a night cap (more chai!).

The chai wallah's stall was a wooden work bench at waist height on four bicycle wheels. He was a small wrinkly old fellow whose face was almost expressionless. He had a tattered wolly hat and scarf to fight the chill. A beadie (Indian cigarette) hung impossibly from his lower lip. In front of him, a rudimentary camping stove which he pumped intermittently to fuel the flames and keep the chai bubbling. Every now and then he either poured a cup of tea for a cold customer or nonchalantly lit a match to light his cigarette before flicking it in a perfect arc into the road. Up and down the dark street, during another black out, groups of people sat huddled around small smokey fires. The smoke and their chatter mingled with the falling mist. As we sat with flames warming our backs, chai in hand, we wondered how long India would continue to play out these scenes.

As we've moved from region to region we've often been warned about the perils that await us in the next state. So we entered Uttar Pradesh (UP) with some trepidation having been told that we would be cycling through 'The Bad Lands'. We were a little unsure what this meant but imagined being held up by masked highway men in blacked-out auto rickshaws. Thankfully the mist has been so dense we appear to have snuck passed them so far. Our safe passage through UP was made all the more speedy after drafting a tractor and trailer and cruising at 30km/hr for over an hour (very safely Irena!), much to amusement of the trailer's passengers who must've thought we were bonkers!

Three wise men offering their route advice. We're not sure they'd ever seen a map before!

Another thing to cheer up the misty days has been the Muslim festival of Mawlid-an-Nadi celebrating the birthday of the Prophet Mohammed. If there's one thing we've noticed, it's that India knows how to put on a good sound and light display. This festival was no exception with walls of speakers thumping out beats loud enough to change the rhythm of your heart and streets lined with row upon row of green strip lights, LED jelly fish, and strings of multicoloured fairylights. The streets were transformed with happy revellers taking many happy selfies. It was a fantastic spectacle and surrounded by the flashing lights, it looked a little more like something out of a sci-fi film than a birthday party!

We reached Kushinagar in the fading light after our longest day in the saddle (over seven hours!). Made slightly longer by a road block along the way which a friendly bystander advised us to avoid in case things got nasty... maybe there is something to this 'Bad Lands' talk?! Our diversion took us though some beautifully quiet rural roads and a few dreaded cobbled ones. Our weary legs peddled into Kushinagar, Bhudda's final resting place, hoping to find a friendly Tibetan Temple to take in two tired dirty 'pilgrims'. As we reached the Temple gates, a smiling monk in maroon robes welcomed us in with perfect English and led us to one of the most peaceful places we've stayed in.

The peace was occasionally disturbed by the odd kick around which I couldn't help joining in! We knew monks loved football from David's time spent living in a Tibetan monastery in Dharamshala but there they all supported Liverpool. You can imagine Kat's delight when she heard that these monks were huge Arsenal fans!

Fantastic game of monkie in the middle outside the Temple!

With our trusty steeds cleaned, we set them aside for a few days rest. Needless to say, we've become quite attached to our two wheeled friends! Kushinagar is a quiet spiritual place visited by many robed monks and Bhuddist pilgrims from all over the world. At the site where it is thought that Bhudda was cremated, a vast brick stupa was excavated and now sits in a peaceful garden where monks and pilgrims alike meet to meditate, chant, light candles, burn incense and rub gold leaf onto the stupa. We simply sat and listened and tried to absorb some of the magic of the place. We watched a group of robed pilgrims in two perfect lines, encircling the stupa, chanting a deep resonant prayer, led by saffron robed monks. It transported us to another place and felt slightly otherworldly (and a little bit like a scene from Star Wars... I'm sure I saw the glint of a light sabre under one of those robes!). 

All jokes aside, it was an incredibly special place and after finally leaving the mists of the Gangetic basin behind, we rode into Nepal this morning in warm sunshine. It's been an unforgettable three months and we left with the resonant hum of India's spirituality pushing us gentley onwards and more importantly upwards (current altitude 19m above sea level!)... or was that hum the 10km que of trucks we passed, burping diesel fumes, waiting to cross the border too?! You can never be sure of anything in India! 

Namaste!

Loads of love Ed and Kat

P.s Happy Christmas if you don't hear from us! Not sure about WiFi in Nepal!

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