My visa for Thailand expired at midnight. I had less than twelve hours to flee the country and travel over seven hundred miles. When you are travelling, your only real challenge is getting from one place to another, so why not add to that challenge by having to make a ridiculous madcap dash across the country?

Luckily, I had found a very cheap flight from Phuket to Udon Thani in north east Thailand. From there I was going to catch a bus to the Friendship Bridge between Nong Kai in Thailand and Vientiane in Laos. I wasn’t sure what time the bridge closed for the night, but I guessed it would be around 10:00pm (I was right).

The flight to Udon Thani was late and the queue for it was confusing since the queues for all the flights seemed to merge  into one big tangle of people. I found myself standing in the wrong place at one point and started panicking, thinking I had missed the plane. However, once I went down to the entry gate and looked around, the queue became more obvious: the Udon Thani district is where many of the go-go bar girls come from and the queue mostly consisted of excited, chattering girls heading home for a break. One kathoey was dressed as a man, probably as a show of respect for his family, but could hardly hide the flowing hair and long finger nails. He looked awkward. I felt sorry him.

In the end, the flight was straight forward and the minivan to the bridge was easy to find just outside the exit of the small airport. There were only a handful of foreign tourists on the bus, which made the journey more interesting as strange dialects clicked and clucked across the air. I looked out the window and noticed that the town was quite busy and industrious, and the houses in the suburbs looked comfortable and modern. Maybe the redistribution of wealth brought about by tourism and the prostitution industry had brought the place from agricultural backwater to modern metropolis. Either way, that’s a hell of a double edged sword.

About fifteen of us disembarked at the bridge gate two hours later. We gave our passports to the border guards and were stamped out of Thailand. At least I had made it out on time without breaching my visa agreement. On the other side of the gate was a bus queue, and feeling tired, I sat on my backpack waiting for the bridge bus to arrive. It’s funny how travelling can make you feel exhausted even though you do little more than watch the world go by through a dirty window.

Eventually a big, old, rickety bus came to take us across no-man’s land. I hadn’t bought a ticket as I should have done, but the bus driver took the eight baht directly from me. As we crossed the bridge in the twilight, I could clearly see the Industrial buildings and the houses on the Thai side; street lights twinkling, brightly illuminating the streets. In sharp contrast, on the Laos side, there was nothing but a dark tree line along the Mekong River and a couple of unlit buildings in the distance.

Five minutes later we were at the Laos border. At the customs office, we were handed entry papers to fill in and sign. There were a number of tables and benches nearby so I sat down and began to scrawl away as quickly as possible so I could be processed quickly. As I filled the papers in, a middle aged Laos man sidled up to me and peered over my shoulder. He offered me a pen when I clearly had one in my hand and I smiled and said, “No thank you.” He continued to stare at me like a dog eyeing a favourite chew toy. I continued scribbling until I became uncomfortable, picked up my bags and moved to another desk. As it turned out, he was a minivan driver who didn’t speak good English and was trying to find a way to introduce himself. One of the other travellers succumbed to his strangely polite advances and managed to snag a good deal into Vientiane for eight of us while we waited for our visas to be processed. I was the last to hand in my papers along with a single passport photo (I’d taken 16 with me from the UK) and 35 US dollars entry fee. Paying in other currencies incurs a heavy conversion penalty. Luckily I always carry at least one hundred US dollars on me when travelling abroad. It’s especially useful for border crossings, when you find yourself without any local currency and in, um, the USA.

Fifteen minutes passed and my name was called out first. They had obviously processed the papers in reverse order. I approached the office tentatively.

“You’ve been refused entry,” said the guard.

Before I had time to register the implications of what he had just said, he cracked a big grin and started laughing. “Only a joke!” he shouted jovially, and handed me my passport with the visa good for thirty days glued inside. If a border guard – normally straight laced and with an anal sphincter as tight as a wing bolt on an aircraft – could play with me like that, what would the rest of Laos have in store?

Visas processed, we shuffled through the barriers at the end of the bridge and piled into the minivan. It drove in darkness through the dusty outskirts of Vientiane and I didn’t take much in, knowing I would be here for a couple of days anyway. The bus driver stopped in Rue Pangkham, an area with plenty of hotels and guest houses, so I jumped out with two other backpackers and we trampied down the street looking for places to stay. We had already been warned that many places were already full by the driver, and after asking at four or five guest houses without any luck, we came upon the Phonepaseuth, which only had one room available. My travel buddies turned it down because it was too expensive – eight pounds a night. This was within my budget though so I asked to see the room, mainly because my backpack was already stripping skin off my shoulders and I was tired. The room was right at the top of the building – no lifts here – but was clean and had a balcony. By the time I got back downstairs I felt like Dawn French after a cake binge and was too tired to refuse it. I later learned it was the best room in the place – even the lonely planet guide name checked it. It was just as well as I later learned that most of the other rooms were windowless and cramped.

The view from the guest house balcony.

So there it was. I had travelled from Phuket to Vientiane in about nine hours without pre-booking anything other than a flight. What’s more, I did it all for less than fifty GBP and really enjoyed winging the whole thing, in addition to seeing some out of the way places that not a lot of foreign visitors get to see.

Useful Links:

The Friendship Bridge: http://www.gonomad.com/transports/0011/clontz_laos.html

Other useful info on getting to Vientiane from Thailand: http://www.laoworld.net/?mid=transportation&page=2&document_srl=4397

For visa on arrival into Laos information: http://www.laos-guide-999.com/visa-on-arrival.html

This blog covers the 18^th January, 2010.

My visa for Thailand expired at midnight. I had less than twelve hours to flee the country and travel over seven hundred miles. When you are travelling, your only real challenge is getting from one place to another, so why not add to that challenge by having to make a ridiculous madcap dash across the country?

Luckily, I had found a very cheap flight from Phuket to Udon Thani in north east Thailand. From there I was going to catch a bus to the Friendship Bridge between Nong Kai in Thailand and Vientiane in Laos. I wasn’t sure what time the bridge closed for the night, but I guessed it would be around 10:00pm (I was right).

The flight to Udon Thani was late and the queue for it was confusing since the queues for all the flights seemed to merge  into one big tangle of people. I found myself standing in the wrong place at one point and started panicking, thinking I had missed the plane. However, once I went down to the entry gate and looked around, the queue became more obvious: the Udon Thani district is where many of the go-go bar girls come from and the queue mostly consisted of excited, chattering girls heading home for a break. One kathoey was dressed as a man, probably as a show of respect for his family, but could hardly hide the flowing hair and long finger nails. He looked awkward. I felt sorry him.

In the end, the flight was straight forward and the minivan to the bridge was easy to find just outside the exit of the small airport. There were only a handful of foreign tourists on the bus, which made the journey more interesting as strange dialects clicked and clucked across the air. I looked out the window and noticed that the town was quite busy and industrious, and the houses in the suburbs looked comfortable and modern. Maybe the redistribution of wealth brought about by tourism and the prostitution industry had brought the place from agricultural backwater to modern metropolis. Either way, that’s a hell of a double edged sword.

About fifteen of us disembarked at the bridge gate two hours later. We gave our passports to the border guards and were stamped out of Thailand. At least I had made it out on time without breaching my visa agreement. On the other side of the gate was a bus queue, and feeling tired, I sat on my backpack waiting for the bridge bus to arrive. It’s funny how travelling can make you feel exhausted even though you do little more than watch the world go by through a dirty window.

Eventually a big, old, rickety bus came to take us across no-man’s land. I hadn’t bought a ticket as I should have done, but the bus driver took the eight baht directly from me. As we crossed the bridge in the twilight, I could clearly see the Industrial buildings and the houses on the Thai side; street lights twinkling, brightly illuminating the streets. In sharp contrast, on the Laos side, there was nothing but a dark tree line along the Mekong River and a couple of unlit buildings in the distance.

Five minutes later we were at the Laos border. At the customs office, we were handed entry papers to fill in and sign. There were a number of tables and benches nearby so I sat down and began to scrawl away as quickly as possible so I could be processed quickly. As I filled the papers in, a middle aged Laos man sidled up to me and peered over my shoulder. He offered me a pen when I clearly had one in my hand and I smiled and said, “No thank you.” He continued to stare at me like a dog eyeing a favourite chew toy. I continued scribbling until I became uncomfortable, picked up my bags and moved to another desk. As it turned out, he was a minivan driver who didn’t speak good English and was trying to find a way to introduce himself. One of the other travellers succumbed to his strangely polite advances and managed to snag a good deal into Vientiane for eight of us while we waited for our visas to be processed. I was the last to hand in my papers along with a single passport photo (I’d taken 16 with me from the UK) and 35 US dollars entry fee. Paying in other currencies incurs a heavy conversion penalty. Luckily I always carry at least one hundred US dollars on me when travelling abroad. It’s especially useful for border crossings, when you find yourself without any local currency and in, um, the USA.

Fifteen minutes passed and my name was called out first. They had obviously processed the papers in reverse order. I approached the office tentatively.

“You’ve been refused entry,” said the guard.

Before I had time to register the implications of what he had just said, he cracked a big grin and started laughing. “Only a joke!” he shouted jovially, and handed me my passport with the visa good for thirty days glued inside. If a border guard – normally straight laced and with an anal sphincter as tight as a wing bolt on an aircraft – could play with me like that, what would the rest of Laos have in store?

Visas processed, we shuffled through the barriers at the end of the bridge and piled into the minivan. It drove in darkness through the dusty outskirts of Vientiane and I didn’t take much in, knowing I would be here for a couple of days anyway. The bus driver stopped in Rue Pangkham, an area with plenty of hotels and guest houses, so I jumped out with two other backpackers and we trampied down the street looking for places to stay. We had already been warned that many places were already full by the driver, and after asking at four or five guest houses without any luck, we came upon the Phonepaseuth, which only had one room available. My travel buddies turned it down because it was too expensive – eight pounds a night. This was within my budget though so I asked to see the room, mainly because my backpack was already stripping skin off my shoulders and I was tired. The room was right at the top of the building – no lifts here – but was clean and had a balcony. By the time I got back downstairs I felt like Dawn French after a cake binge and was too tired to refuse it. I later learned it was the best room in the place – even the lonely planet guide name checked it. It was just as well as I later learned that most of the other rooms were windowless and cramped.

The view from the guest house balcony.

So there it was. I had travelled from Phuket to Vientiane in about nine hours without pre-booking anything other than a flight. What’s more, I did it all for less than fifty GBP and really enjoyed winging the whole thing, in addition to seeing some out of the way places that not a lot of foreign visitors get to see.

Useful Links:

The Friendship Bridge: http://www.gonomad.com/transports/0011/clontz_laos.html

Other useful info on getting to Vientiane from Thailand: http://www.laoworld.net/?mid=transportation&page=2&document_srl=4397

Normal 0 false false false EN-GB X-NONE X-NONE

For visa on arrival into Laos information: http://www.laos-guide-999.com/visa-on-arrival.html

This blog covers the 18^th January, 2010.

Warning: My matrix filters let through sweary words.

"I was trying so hard to please myself I was turning into somebody else." Out of the Blue (Into the Fire) – The The.

The minibus driver threw his vehicle around the roads as if it were an unbreakable child’s toy with plastic figures inside it. He obviously wanted to get back home in time for lunch, but at this rate we would be the ones who would end up as lunch – for worms. I can’t say I was too worried though, I’d seen far more frenetic driving in India. The gasps and the screams of the other passengers were entertaining in their own right.

We were travelling from Surat Thani Airport to Don Sak Peer where the ferry to Koh Samui departed from the mainland. I had booked the flight from Bangkok as it was the only route available at the last minute.

As we neared the peer, a number of angular limestone mountains poked their ragged faces from beneath the earth like trolls; their hair, dense foliage which clung on at every precipice; their features, sun-bleached rock and shadow.

On the ferry to Koh Samui, I watched billowing cumulous clouds skate across the pearl flecked sky. An old lady approached me angling to find passengers to cart around in a minibus to hotels on the island. It could all have been a scam but it wasn’t.

Approaching the island

The roads around the island weren’t in the best of repair, but it’s amazing to think that there were no roads here at all 25 years ago, the island being uninhabited at that time. Now there was infrastructure, but it was all a bit weary.

I fell asleep on the bus and as it came to a juddering halt, I jumped out still half asleep. Unfortunately it was the wrong stop. I was a mile from my hotel and had to march over a large, wooded hill, dodging bikes of all descriptions as they hurtled around the winding bends of the road.

I dropped off my backpack at the hotel and went for a walk. I was in the Lamai Beach area and it was mid afternoon. There seemed like a lot of bars around but not too many punters – probably still recovering from the night before based on the reputation this place had.

I found something to eat, a Tofu curry from a place advertising Vegetarian specials. The curry had a long thin spiral of hard aluminium in it – as if cut from a tin can. When I showed it to the waiter he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing I can do about it."

I made my way to the Shamrock, an Irish bar in the centre of town. There I got chatting to a madman who I shall call Luke.

Luke was in his mid-thirties and ran his own business which was very hands off, so he spent much of his time travelling the world living like a playboy. We had a good conversation about our travels, and he also revealed he had a few problems with people not liking him as he felt was far too practical and not very empathetic.

We downed more beers, chatted about football and music, and then started getting really drunk. He began talking about all of the many prostitutes he’d had and how it had clouded his judgement of women.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"You can get anything you want here from P4P to GFE."

"Eh?"

"Pay for play and the girl friend experience. I do it so often now that I can’t be bothered with women back home. Come, I’ll show you."

We started walking around town and found some "bar beers". These are open air bars grouped in little clusters worked by bar girls who either sit around playing games like Connect 4 or dancing on the tables.

We drank more beers and chatted with the girls, then he pulled me away down the end of the High Street. Here was a massage shop with a collection of girls waiting for punters outside. He grabbed a girl and pulled her inside motioning me to do the same. The other girls tried to pull me in but I sat that one out at a bar across the street. He came out ten minutes later with a big grin on his face.

"Let’s go clubbing."

We headed down to the Subterranean Club but it was mostly empty and not too entertaining. Next we headed to more bar beers. By this stage I was completely rat arsed, and must be honest that I found the whole thing to be a bit dangerous and quite exciting. Here I was, living it up in a town full of gorgeous and available women who all seemed keen on me. But as Marty Pellow once sang, I was living in a world of make believe.

We went to the Fusion Club but as we arrived Luke decided to call it a night – he had an early flight to catch the next morning. We said our farewells and I started to walk back to my hotel. Just as I reached it, a girl was emerging from the hotel reception and we exchanged glances. She was one of those girls I find immediately attractive for some reason (although the reason on this occasion could well have been twelve pints of lager). I started chatting to her and asked if she fancied a drink. We headed back to the club and got some more drinks in. Her name was Lek, she was 34 and Koh Samui was her home. We chatted some more and started to get on really well, and as the neon turned to fuzzy velvet and people started to duplicate before my eyes, I thought we had pulled each other. However, as the evening unravelled and my drinking spun out of control, I found out to my cost that I hadn’t pulled Lek at all.

After a long, long lie in the next day, I got a phone call from my mate JJ. He and his better half Debbie were in town and we were going to investigate a few watering holes together. You may remember I met these two rapscallions back in Paris. Personally I think they are stalking me around the world and I shall do as much as I can to encourage this further. The first night was an easy stroll down to the Shamrock with JJ and I knocking a few back to the sound of a Filipino cover band thrashing out sometimes tuneful, sometimes painful songs, whilst Debbie had an early night as she is a girl.

JJ and Debbie

When JJ hit the skids too, I went back to Fusion bar. Again I have to admit that the whole thing was tantalising even though it was like looking at an alien landscape. I could see how people could get lost in this lifestyle. The Thai attitude to sex is liberal and natural, unhindered by the thousands of years of repression built into Christianity by St. Augustine in the fourth century.

There was a tap on my shoulder and there was Lek. She seemed a different person from the carefree girl I met the night before. She was clingy and manipulative, claiming a stake on me and directing my every move – especially who I kept company with. In fact, the only person she "allowed" me to speak with was her friend – a Kathoey (ladyboy) with flapping great hands.

Quite a few of the girls working the bars up and down Thailand like to keep a few foreign boyfriends on the boil, as they can be a good source of income even when they are back home. Lek was older than most bar girls, and although she was pretty and engaging, she probably wanted to retire soon. She was looking for a foreign sponsor and it seemed I fitted the bill. Although I was drunk, I hate being cosseted and so started to make my way back to the hotel. Lek followed me and I explained several times that, like Greta Garbo, I wanted to be alone. Finally, at my hotel door she got the hint and left. That was the last I saw her, but she would continue to phone and text me until I left Thailand and ditched my Thai sim.

I woke late the next day and idled, reading on the bed until my friends were ready to go out. Again we had an easy stroll down to the Shamrock with Debbie and I knocking a few back to the sound of the same Filipino cover band, whilst JJ had an early night as he is a girl. We walked down to a beach bar and chatted idly to the relaxing sound of the surf.

Lamai Beach, Koh Samui

And so it was New Year’s Eve. Not the New Year celebrated in most Buddhist countries (it was actually the year 2553 in Thailand), but the Gregorian New Year of 2010. JJ, Debbie and I convened at lunch time and had a nice meal in one of the beach side restaurants. The beer was flowing freely, the talk was easy and hours disappeared in the haze of good times. We wandered into town late afternoon for more food and as night descended we found ourselves back on the beach, lounging on comfortable chairs. As midnight approached, Chinese Lanterns rose into the sky in steady streams from various points on the beach. More and more rose majestically, casting orange glows across the night sky until thousands arced their way over the island, outshining the stars.

Then the fireworks began. Rockets sped into the sky and burst a hundred glowing embers of all colours, aerial shells exploded furiously as if emulating the lifetime of the universe in the blink of an eye, pin wheeling detonations illuminated smiles and gasps while runaway Catherine wheels somersaulted along the beach. Cracks, pops and fizzles burst here and there to the smell of gunpowder and sea. It was violent and it was beautiful.

We drank some more and partied through the night. I was so pleased and comforted to be able to spend New Year with good friends. We walked back to town, but after JJ and Debbie retired I found myself back in the Fusion Club, attracted by the danger, by the unknown, by the sheer audacity of it all.

Fade to black…

I awoke in bed the next morning with a stranger lying next to me. She smiled and started chatting to me in Thai. I must have looked very rough, because she gave me a hug. I felt rough. I felt like a Zombie had eaten my brain and replaced it with a stack of nails which were now slowly making their way into the remainder of my skull.

I stared bleary eyed at the girl next to me, then hugged her back. I hugged her hard, spinning from the torment of a brutalised liver. I clung onto her for dear life as if I was about to fall off the edge of the world. We hugged each other and our movements were reassuring and tender, never sexual.

Her name was Lulu, she was 31 and she was from Udon Thani. She loved sad Thai ballads and spoke little English. Apparently, through sign language and a mixture of Thai and English I found out I had picked her up in the club the night before. I remembered none of this. I don’t know what I’d promised her, but I paid her later in the day anyway just for clinging onto her like a frightened child for five hours and she looked at me rather strangely, smiling her quirky smile and clucking away to herself in Thai.

I hadn’t come to Thailand to be a sex Tourist. I didn’t want to end up like Luke; buying love and hating myself for it. My period of alcohol abstinence in India had lowered my tolerance, and the availability of cheap booze was obviously getting me so drunk that my base instincts were taking over. It just goes to show that when alcohol strips away our self image, with all of the associated assumptions and pretentions, there are some very basic driving forces at the core of us all.

I never ate at all that day.

Strange Koh Samui road sign that summed up my New Year’s day

The next day I bade farewell to JJ and Debbie who were off to another local Island. We went for lunch and I butchered some songs at a karaoke bar. It had been great seeing them – they were a link to my past – to what seemed like a different person in a far off age. In their presence they had kept me relatively sane, but I had changed in the last few months and was still changing; some strange metamorphosis brought about by new experiences, ever changing vistas and too much introspection.

Now it was time for me to move on too, find someplace where I was anonymous and free, but also out of temptations way.

For a while in Koh Samui I thought I would enjoy being someone who hasn’t a care in the world, where no rules applied and where there was no such thing as responsibility – even to myself. I had been so intent on having a good time that I had lost myself in a place where nobody knew me. In a way, that is what my whole journey is about: to deconstruct all the familiar parts of my identity just to see what surfaces, to test myself, to gain new ground, to find different angles in a complex hall of mirrors. It’s not always going to be successful as doing this relaxes your standard levels of self control.

The night before I left town I was sitting in a bar feeling bored and friendless when Lulu spotted me and approached, smiling. We gave each other a hug and sat together holding hands, content in each other’s company. It was all rather sweet. Sometimes the loneliness of solo travel, or of a job that brings intimacy without emotion can lead you to miss the essentials of existence. The simple touch of another person, feeling their warmth, finding comfort in their presence without any obligation to be anyone but yourself. These are the things that make life worth living.

And in those warm moments in a ragged roadside bar in Koh Samui, watching the stars wink at each other across a black velvet void and listening to Lulu sigh, I found myself again, if only for a short time.

This blog post was written under the influence of Miles Davis and covers the period 28th December 2009 – 4th January 2010.

Posted via email from Rob Jamieson

Warning: Contains adult language and scenes of a not very sexual nature.

A vast blue sky cut through with flecks of white paraded itself over my head as I headed towards Bangkok from the airport. A brilliant sun bleached the immaculate pavements, grass verges stretched and yawned, verdant trees leaned lazily toward each other like neighbours chatting over a garden fence.

As my taxi drew in towards downtown Bangkok, I was surprised by the number of gleaming towers perched upon the horizon, bright and proud like statues lining the road to some ancient state capital.

I yawned. I hadn’t slept all night on my flight from Mumbai and that electric fuzz that sweeps around your brain when you’re convinced it shouldn’t still be light was shorting out my neurones.

The car left the motorway and turned onto Sukhumvit Road in the heart of the city. There were few vehicles here and all were driving in an orderly manner. The streets looked deserted; I wondered for a moment if it was some kind of national holiday. The few people that were around seemed to pace purposely, carefully and oh-so-slowly down the street, as if walking the prow of a ship in high seas.

The tall, elegant structures of glass and cement formed a hollow canyon and enveloped me in shadow.

"Where has the world gone?" spluttered my tired brain. It was if the earth’s atmosphere had turned to tree sap, and all of us poor fools plodding slowly through it were gradually being entombed in amber, to be poised forever in six billion moments of mundanity.

Perspective is a funny thing.

Many people who have been to Bangkok may be surprised, even dumbfounded by my description of it. Most say it is a bustling, noisy, energetic city with far too much happening all at once. However, besides being over-tired, I had just spent nine weeks in one of the most populous countries in the world, where walking five abreast is the norm, where traffic jiggles and bounces around like a badly animated cartoon, where you are surrounded by the constant noise of car horns tooting and people jabbering. In comparison, Bangkok was not just sedate, it was almost tomb-like.

I had splashed out on a nice hotel in the city centre called the President Palace as I fancied a bit of luxury over the Christmas period. As soon as I had dumped my gear, as usual I was out on the streets having a gander at this strange new world I had found myself in. The hotel was on Soi 11 – a Soi being a lane leading from a main road.

I reached the junction at Sukhumvit Road and as if from nowhere, an Indian man appeared directly in front of me. I thought I was having some kind of flashback.

"Excuse me sir, it’s your lucky day!" he chanted excitedly.

"No it isn’t" I scowled and slid around him. My spiv dodging skills acquired in India were by now well honed. Even as I left him behind though, I thought I should have said to him in Churchillian fashion, "Sir, it may be my lucky day, but sadly it is not yours."

I found a supermarket – I’d forgotten all about these things – and stocked up on fresh fruit, salad, fresh bread, and wonder of wonders, Marmite! It’s funny how you miss the simple things when you’ve been deprived of them. I also found a pharmacy and bought the secret elixir that seems to cure all my ills – Pepto Bismol. I’d been suffering from diarrhoea for the last eight days and I was starting to feel like a human colander. Within a day, this stuff had fixed up my insides. When I inevitably succumb to some fatal disease I’ll just chug some of this stuff to cure it.

After a refreshing sleep, I wandered back onto Sukhumvit and walked around, eyeing the many market stalls crushed onto either side of the pavement. You can buy just about anything here as long as it is fake – watches, handbags, wallets, T-shirts and underpants – all mimicking famous designer names. There was also a vast selection of hooky DVDs ranging from poor cams of the latest movies to top quality copies of TV shows and a range of random porn flicks.

I hopped on the Skytrain -  a modern elevated railway that runs through the heart of Bangkok. It was clean, fast, had a regular service and was beautifully air conditioned. I got off at the MBK Centre a large shopping complex that has many small independent traders. The fourth floor is packed with phone accessories and I picked up some Bluetooth earphones as a Christmas present for myself.

Outside, a boxing ring had been set up for a number of Thai boxing bouts between some local contenders. The fighting didn’t look too convincing. It was a free event so the fighters were no doubt saving themselves for a money match.

As I headed back to the hotel, looking around at the sleek new cars and the sweeping overpasses, the people loaded with shopping bags and weighed down with jewellery, I thought how modern this city was and how much it must have changed even in the last ten years. Tourism has brought a boom to Thailand, and with favourable exchange rates and Western Multinationals moving in to take advantage of the new money in the country, Thailand, like the rest of Asia, is on the rise.

That night, I was determined to head out and investigate the red light district around Nana Plaza as I had discovered it wasn’t too far away. I’ve always found run down, seedy places to be far more interesting than the new and opulent. I grew up in a New Town, so I’m used to the safe but mundane.

I threw on my glad rags and found my way to a small bar at the end of Soi 11 called Cheap Charlies. And cheap it was. Effectively a bar leaning onto an open road where you stand and drink, Cheap Charlies isn’t going to win any awards for decor. However, the beer is cheap and the place has bags of character.

I started chatting to some British boys in their early twenties who were just finishing up their first tour of Thailand and were full of that all knowing world weariness that only youth can afford.

Inevitably, my bladder filled and I headed for the toilet – a frail wooden outhouse by the side of the road. Inside the stinking shack, I heard some scuffling near my feet. I looked down to see a furry friend had decided to pay me a visit – a rather large rat. Now I like rats, and this beauty looked terrified of me, but when it saw that I wasn’t moving (for fear of spraying my feet in the cramped conditions) it just scuttled under some pipes and disappeared through a hole in the wall.

I returned to the lads, got some recommendations for their favourite places to visit in Thailand and disappeared into the night.

It was three days before Christmas and I still wasn’t in the mood for festivities. It was 30 degrees at night and sweat was running down my legs. However as I approached Nana Plaza, the local red light district, I heard a ho, ho, ho. Three of them were walking down the street, chatting.

I ducked into a large bar called "Gulliver’s Travels" that looked half empty. Various older "farang" (Thai for Westerner) were sitting around with much younger girls glued to their sides. Another bunch of girls were playing pool. They were very good at it too, suggesting they spent a lot of time in bars. I chugged my beer and moved on.

I walked down Soi 4. This was it. The red light district. I braced myself. I found another bar and dived in. It was pretty full with what appeared to be karaoke on the stage. This wasn’t so bad, I thought to myself as I tucked into my fourth beer. Not nearly as seedy as I thought.

I looked around. The bar was populated with couples – Western men, Asian girls. I got looks of surprise from the men, as if wondering why I hadn’t hooked up with someone yet. It’s funny how expectations of behaviour vary according to your geography.

I ordered another beer and noticed that the awful karaoke was actually a band playing mindless pop tunes with vacuous lyrics such as, "I love you and you love me, will you marry me?" Apologies to anyone who used that sentence as a proposal.

I was getting increasingly drunk. A middle aged woman walked into the bar, screwed up her face, turned around and then left. A large glitter ball that had remained static for most of the evening now started to slowly rotate, spilling beams of light over the faces of the disappointed, the lost or the just damn strange. By now I was on my sixth pint and I was convinced this wasn’t a red light bar. It was just too much like any European club but with a large proportion of Asian girls.

My tolerance for alcohol was at an all time low. I hadn’t drunk this many beers in the last four months and I was starting to feel a little blurred around the edges. Then something happened that made me sit up with a clear head and bright eyes. No, I wasn’t being genitally manipulated by some Thai girl; the band had started playing "Killing in the Name", and what a great cover it was too. Clearly, they were talented musicians – they had just been playing too much rubbish all night. I got up and made it to the dance floor, stomping around manically and screaming the chorus when it came along – so much so that the singer beckoned me over for the final chorus and handed me the mike, where I happily screamed the final line over and over, "Fuck you, I won’t do what you tell me!" Three days later I was surprised and thrilled to find out it had been the Christmas number one in the UK.

I staggered down the road after chucking out time and started chatting to some Brits who were standing by the corner of the main road. A Thai woman was getting drinks from somewhere and bringing them over to us. I was just happy to still be drinking. As we were talking about Bangkok and our first impressions of it, I was approached by a Thai girl in her mid twenties. I was giddy with the cooking lager by this stage and don’t remember a lot of what she said, but I do remember she was very restrained and started relaying some kind of sad story to me. I suddenly realised where I was, that I was more drunk than I should be and it was time to go home.

As I was weaving down the road, two more girls approached me and tried to convince me that I should take them both back to my hotel. They were very pushy and aggressive with their proposal, but softened it all with smiles and laughter which deeply confused me.

I made my excuses and left.

The following day I had a nice long break from the world, watching telly and reading. I noticed that the Thais seem to love sad songs. I watched a few music videos – each portraying tragedies more graphic than the last, culminating in a video for a slow, melancholic song drenched with minor chords in which a tearful girl watches over a boy in a coma who then wakes and chases her from the hospital only to see her hit by a car. I was laughing my arse off.

I decided to upgrade my room for Christmas and as I stood at reception paying for the extra amount, one of the young interns stood at the counter, hands clasped together, smiling and bowing every time I spoke. She was so cute that I wanted to put her in a cage and keep her as a pet, although unfortunately there are laws preventing that, even in Thailand.

I went for a walk and up at the intersection, there was my Indian mate again. He was a Sikh and his job obviously wasn’t sitting well with him as he almost had sorrow in his eyes as he spoke to me. Sikh’s have a fearsome reputation for honesty, so perhaps that’s what was making him uneasy.

"Hello sir, today is your lucky day…" I tried to remember the undelivered response from two days ago, but I got confused and just waved him away with a stern, "No."

Christmas Eve, then, and no one to visit. I’d done some internet research and found out that although I had been near the red light district I hadn’t actually been in the thick of it. With that in mind, I dressed as a vagabond and melted into the darkening alleys. This time I found Nana Plaza straight away.

A square surrounded by three stories of bars and clubs with names like Fantasia, G-Spot and Hollywood. Random neon flashes across your face in all possible colours. Transient people enter and leave the square constantly. They often come in as a party of one and leave as two or more. But others arrive too; working girls striding in to start their shift or returning from an earlier job;  voyeurs like me just here to observe the human cavalcade of oddities – such as each other.

I sat at the bar in the centre of the square and bought a beer. A couple of girls working the bar eyed me seductively. I ignored them and they left me to it. I watched the streams of people melt and flow through the place, observed their initial hesitance as they stepped across the threshold of the square or the boldness of their movements as their intent became clear. Some had come looking for love and affection, others a quick grope and a cheap fuck. One thing was for sure – if you had money you could easily buy the second and at least the illusion of the first.

The bar girls now started laughing and joking and throwing me glances – trying to draw me in. One came straight up to me and asked where I was from. We started chatting and I bought her a drink. I asked her where she was from. It turns out that she came from a place where most of the professional girls in Bangkok come from, Udon Thani, a relatively poor agricultural area in the North East of Thailand. The girls from this area are slightly darker skinned than their Bangkok counterparts and are looked down upon for being uncultured peasants. Sadly, the TV and billboard adverts for skin whitening cream in Thailand are unremitting.

Bella, as she called herself, was remarkably open about what she did. She told me that a lot of the money she earns goes straight back to her family in Udon Thani. In fact, it is common and accepted there that a girl from a local family might be in the city, "working for a hotel."

As we were chatting, there was an almighty commotion from one of the nearby go-go bars, and a huge crowd formed. I stood up, and since the bar was on a raised platform, I could quite clearly see two of the bar girls going at each other ferociously. Fists were flying, hair was being pulled, red faces and tears were evident. I felt terrible, yet loads of men were standing around laughing. I wanted to jump down and split them up, but there was no way I was getting through that crowd, and to be honest, I would probably have been set upon by the locals for interfering.

After about five minutes or so, the fighting stopped. Only pride had been seriously wounded and the crowd started to disperse. The winner of the fight stomped back into the bar with her nose in the air and the loser stood around crying with nobody to comfort her. I don’t know what she had done but I just felt like giving her a hug. However, I was in a red light district and that kind of behaviour could easily be misconstrued. The crying girl wiped away her tears and slunk back into the bar.

Now my curiosity was really piqued. I left Bella and walked down to the go-go bar which the girls had been fighting in front of. It was called Rainbow. I breathed deeply and walked in.

A long bar stretched from where I sat to the wall, mirrors on the floor, mirrors on the ceiling. Older women walked the space in between, making sure I had a full drink. Girls strutted on top of the mirrors. Music played. They shuffled tiredly. It was like watching performing animals in a circus.

I yawned. One of the girls yawned. I yawned again. Three girls yawned. At this rate we would all be asleep in ten minutes.

As they continued to shuffle tiredly across the stage looking as bored as I was, I looked around at the clientele. Nothing unusual; a few Japanese salarymen, older western guys and a few young bloods  looking goggle eyed. A mamasan approached and asked me what number I would like. I didn’t understand until I looked up at the girls and realised they all had a number pinned to their skimpy costumes. I politely declined.

The music stopped, the girls got down from the stage. Some of them sat with men who had expressed an interest, the rest disappeared into a room in the back where another set of girls emerged, climbed the stage and set off on the one step shuffle all over again.

It was a machine churning out flesh for consumption and short term relationships as inconsequential as the whisper of a lover in a half remembered dream. There was more life to be found in a body bag, more excitement to be had at a Royal Variety Performance and more sexuality to be gained from a mouldy pork pie.

I left the square thinking it was all a bit dull.

The next day was Christmas. I’d spent just about every year with my Mum at Christmas, and as the day dawned, miles from the people I loved, I knew that this day would never be special. Instead of pretending to enjoy it, I did little. I walked the streets of Bangkok, harrying with the local vendors. I stood at the street corner where the Sikh salesman usually accosted me in the vain hope I could use my killer line. I found a local vegetarian cafe that made me an amazing Thai curry for Christmas dinner. Sated, I paced back to the hotel and watched episodes of 24 on some hooky DVDs I had bought.

I could feel a strange sense of ambivalence in me. On one hand, I was in a nice, easy place to live with all the amenities a modern city provides. On the other hand I was bored. My time in India had changed me, and I was in a transitional state.

My friend Anil Nadig had once warned me: once you leave India you will miss it – the vibrancy, the crowds; the sense of being alive. I laughed it off thinking it would never happen, but he was right. Here I was, looking for some kind of thrill and excitement in any way I could find it.

Perspective is a funny thing.

This blog covers the period 20-27th December 2009.

Useful links.

Bangkok Hotels.

Bangkok Nightlife.

Things to do in Bangkok.

Travelfish Guide to Bangkok.

Posted via email from Rob Jamieson

Tips for Surviving the Subcontinent

India is a place of extremes, from lavish wealth to abysmal poverty; from beautiful natural landscapes to brutal urban slums; from blissfully peaceful settings to areas where you’ll receive constant harassment; this country is guaranteed to induce emotional highs and lows in any traveller. It is certainly not for everybody, but if you have a keen sense of adventure or require an experience that will give you a jolt, India will thoroughly reward you. Extreme poverty, hideous pollution, an endless tide of touts and scammers and very poor infrastructure is offset by a diverse and warm people, amazing scenery and fantastic monuments, temples and history.

Culture shock is something you will definitely experience no matter what part of the world you are from. India is highly populated and the sheer number of people around you can be overwhelming at first. However, it’s also important to remember that violent crime is low – generally the worst thing you’ll experience is being ripped off by commission touts or a crushing bout of diarrhoea.

Single female travellers may find it harder than others; Indians interpret Westerners from our own media – especially advertising – which has a habit of depicting scantily clad "available" women. Thus many Indian men think all western women are of loose moral virtue and may try to get away with the odd sleazy approach or even grope. If possible, hook up with other female travellers, or if you find yourself in an intolerable situation, loudly draw attention to it – Indian men are easily shamed in public.

Travel

Be aware that many travel agencies in India are merely commission men who book through more reputable agencies and pocket the extra money you give them. Nearly all hotels and hostels can arrange flights, taxis etc. and usually only charge 5-10% commission which saves you the hassle of standing in the queue at the railway station. Always ask for a quote first and if you feel you aren’t getting value for money, phone around or search the internet for comparable deals.

Railways

Travelling by train is a rewarding experience in most cases. However it can be confusing if you do not know how things work.

When you buy a ticket, you will either be assigned a seat number immediately or put on a "wait list" shown as W/L on your ticket. The wait list will consist of two numbers. The first number is the position you start the wait list on. Thus if you are waiting at 19th in the queue, 19 will be the first number. The second number is your current position, so in our example, initially that will be 19 too. However, if two people above you in the queue cancel, the second number will drop to seventeen – you will be W/L 19/17. Two hours before leaving the station, all the seats that have been set aside for dignitaries and railway employees etc. will be freed up and there’s a good chance you will suddenly find yourself with a seat. I’ve started a wait list well into the 30s and still been assigned a seat two hours before departure, but it all depends on the train and the type of seat booked.

The railway carriage you are assigned to will often have a list stuck next to the door with all of the people booked and their seat numbers, so if you cannot check whether you have been assigned a seat via phone or the internet, turn up and check the carriage door. If you can’t see your name, you can then decide if you want to take a chance and bluff your way on. You will usually be able to pay for either an upgrade or downgrade (be warned that a downgrade could mean travelling in a filthy carriage jam packed with people in very hot weather with no air conditioning).

For bookings, use the Indian Rail Website. You can use international credit cards to book, but the site is a little flaky (it has many, many users) and it may take a few attempts to actually book anything.

For more information, check out Seat61 which contains lots of useful information about riding the trains in India.

Taxis

Taxis and are cheap in India. Fares vary between states, but sometimes a pre-booked cab is the only way to travel, as you can go from A to B whilst visiting C and D on the way. Cabs can be booked via hotels, local travel agents, or take your pick from the local yellow pages. Drivers are generally reliable, honest and can occasionally act as a guide or even as a minder to keep away those pesky hawkers. Cabbies are normally paid a reasonable wage, so it is in their interest to keep you happy so that they keep their jobs. However, watch out for the fly-by-nights who offer you great deals on the streets. Their vehicles are usually on the verge of extinction and you may have to sit in sweltering heat while the driver tries to fix it every five miles you travel.

Vehicle Hire

Obviously you can hire a car in India, but almost invariably you have to return it to its point of origin. It’s the same deal with bikes. Make sure you are a confident driver, as you’ll need nerves of steel to confront the Indian road system.

Auto-rickshaws

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was by cloning himself all over the world and going into the auto-rickshaw business. Treat every auto-rickshaw driver as a cheat and a liar (because they are). Do not let them take you anywhere other than your actual destination. Aim to pay 10 rupees per kilometre (it’s actually less but that is a fair price) and make sure you agree the price up front (metered auto rickshaw drivers will drive you around for ten kilometres before dropping you off at your destination which was three kilometres away). Okay, so not all auto-rickshaw drivers are the devil, but in most big cities they will rob you blind or cart you around to every handicraft shop in town where they earn a commission before leaving you bruised and battered at your destination. Always refuse to be taken anywhere other than your destination and be firm about it, or you will be ripped off or exposed to high pressure sales techniques that can easily turn ugly.

Nearly all major railway stations have prepay auto-rickshaw stands outside them. Take your time and find these, or ask for directions at the information desk in the station. When you find them, you usually pay a nominal fee of 1 or 2 rupees to the stand and are given a ticket with a fair price to your destination. You will generally get no hassles from these drivers as they only get paid to take you where you want to go, but do not give the ticket to the driver until you reach your destination – he will not be paid without it.

Most importantly, do not encourage touts by going with the first idiot that latches onto you when you leave the station – you will pay between 3-5 times the regular price and encourage "good" drivers to the dark side when they see others making silly money by being aggressive at the station entrance.

You have been warned.

Buses

State buses have regular services – often hourly – to long distance destinations and can be jumped on at most central bus stands. You pay the conductor once you have climbed aboard in cash only. They are cheap and can get very packed at certain times of the day, but are definitely worth a go. Most state bus drivers are clinically insane and blind to any other traffic on the road. They also have a phobia about taking their foot off the accelerator.

More comfortable buses can be booked, but for me they weren’t comfortable enough to justify the extra cost and the driving was almost as bad. At least you get the ultimate hair-raising thrill of nearly dying on a state bus. Don’t sit at the back though – the buses thunder over bumps and pot holes in the road like they don’t exist and you get the full spine rattling effect in the back seat.

Planes

I must admit, I only used Kingfisher Airlines as they had extensive internal routes, were cheap and were excellent in terms of service. However, there are other airlines you can use such as Jet and Air India.

I did have problems using my credit card on the Kingfisher Airlines website, in which case I used Ebookers for the same price plus a 5-10% commission.

Skyscanner is a good resource for finding cheap flights.

Rules of the Road

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

No seriously.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Okay, from meticulous study, the only rule I’ve worked out is that there is a hierarchy of objects on the road. Let’s start from the lowest to the highest in order of importance (and therefore right of way).

Women. Sorry girls, but if anything is going to be run over it is you.

Children.

Men.

Bicycles.

Motorbikes.

Bicycle rickshaws.

Auto rickshaws.

Cars.

Vans and trucks.

Buses.

Finally the thing that gets complete right of way, the humble cow.

Travel Essentials

Immunisation. See your doctor at least six weeks before you travel to find out what you need to be immunised against.

A visa. Make sure you have one – nearly everybody requires one to enter the country.

Travel Insurance valid for what you intend to do (action sports etc.)

A medical kit including sterilised needles.

A mobile phone. Essential for emergencies and useful at all other times.

Conservative clothing – you need to cover up not just in Temples but on the streets. Local people can become indignant at the sight of foreigners wandering around in beach wear – even on the beach!

A torch and spare batteries (or even better, a wind up torch). Power cuts are rife all over India.

Toilet paper. Some hotels don’t stock it, so always carry a roll just in case.

Mosquito repellent. Those pesky flies are everywhere – especially near areas of stagnant water where they breed. Deet based repellents are most effective, but be aware that deet is toxic and can cause allergic reactions.

A mosquito net.

Anti-malarials if you are going to a high risk zone.

A rain jacket. Even outside of the monsoon period, Indian skies can deliver lots of water very rapidly. Monsoon periods also vary between geographical regions, and some places have more than one monsoon.

A universal adapter for plugging in any electronic items you may have such as a mobile phone.

A pen knife or multitool.

Gaffer tape. Great for temporarily mending bags, mosquito nets, even clothes at a pinch.

Needle and thread.

A travel pouch. Something discreet that you can wear under your clothes to keep passports, credit cards and money safely hidden from the clutches of pick pockets.

Passport sized photographs. Always useful in case you lose your passport, need a phone sim or decide on the spur of the moment to get a visa for Nepal or something further afield.

Earplugs. India can be a noisy place especially in the cities.

A padlock and chain for securing your bags on trains, buses and even your hotel room. The padlock can come in handy to lock doors in some hostels/hotels where the lock is broken.

Two photocopies of your passport, kept in separate places in case you lose the original.

Phone numbers – emergency numbers, credit card and bank numbers etc. Keep a printed copy in case you lose your phone.

Loperamide (Imodium) tablets to stave off diarrhoea temporarily on those long journeys. 

Accommodation

The variety of hotels all over India is vast, from renting a room in a converted palace (seriously) to a grubby, rat-infested toilet (seriously).

If you are just turning up in the hope of finding cheap, quality accommodation, then good luck! Always ask to see a room, check the toilet to make sure it has working facilities, lift a pillow and have a look for bed bugs (also on the floor next to the bed) and have a quick look behind furniture or in dark spaces for cockroaches. Smell is also a fairly good indicator! Make sure windows shut properly or you could end up being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

In my opinion, the best way to find decent accommodation is to discover what other people think of a place. This is where the internet excels. My favourite sites for checking the quality of a place are Tripadviser which has hundreds of user reviews of different hotels and B&Bs (some of them very amusing) and Hostelworld which has cheap but usually good quality accommodation listed (again with user reviews). Remember that you don’t have to chose a place in the top five listings; many decent places can still be found half way down the list.

I also found Booking.com quite useful in reserving the actual rooms as they don’t have an obvious surcharge (I’ve used most of the big booking sites and they are only good value if you can get a deal when staying more than one day). Hotels.com is a useful alternative, but you will pay a surcharge at the end of the booking process.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Guest Houses are a poor option. There are some fantastic, clean and inexpensive options all over India. Just do your homework first on the above listed comparison websites.

Homestays are a great way of meeting Indian families and having a great adventure too. I stayed with my friend Anil at the Buena Vista Hut in Wayanad. Check out the site – it lists other homestays around the country too.

Health and Safety

Get comprehensive insurance before you go. I hate insurance. As an insider in the insurance industry for several years I know what a con it can be. However, comprehensive travel insurance is a must. When it comes to your own personal health, you do not want to be stuck in some backwater medical facility suffering from an infected wound just because you can’t afford proper treatment.

The biggest threat by far to your health in India is on the roads. According to statistics, India has the most dangerous roads in the world and once you see how Indians drive you’ll understand why. Learn how to cross the road properly – always keep your wits about you, keep a steady pace and always stare at the oncoming traffic, gesturing for them to slow down with an upraised palm. Keep looking both ways especially as you near the far side of the road as some people travel the wrong way on bikes near the kerb. Most tourist accidents involve scooters or motorbikes. Only hire one of these if you are confident handling them and you think you understand how the road system works (which I doubt because not even Indians know that). Never drink and drive – the roads are crazy enough when you’re sober, and always wear a helmet on a bike.

Malaria is something you should not ignore and dengue fever even more so. Visiting most areas of India does not require you to take anti-malarials (see this map for details of malaria hotspots) but you should always use a deet based mosquito repellent spray or cream (Odomos is a cream you can buy in India which is actually very good). Cover your feet, legs, arms and head (either with clothes or repellent) and wear bright clothing (mosquitoes love emos). The truth is, some people attract mozzies more than others (I’m lucky – I rarely get bitten) and infection rates are quite low but prevention is better than cure – malaria and dengue are rotten illnesses, sometimes fatal. The bites themselves can become very itchy, irritating and occasionally infected.

Diarrhoea is a very common traveller’s complaint in India. If you get it, drink lots of fluids with rehydration salts when necessary. If it persists for more than two or three days, seek medical help. Dehydration will weaken you severely and if left untreated can damage your internal organs or kill you.

Always drink bottled water and make sure the bottle is properly sealed as there is a scam where old bottles are filled from the tap and resold. Crush all bottles after you use them to avoid this. You can obtain water purification tablets from any good travel shop for emergencies. Tap water in India is often unchecked and unreliable in terms of cleanliness, and most Indian people have built a natural immunity to many of the bugs that would wipe a foreigner out. Because of this, also avoid ice in drinks.

Similarly, be wary of street food or empty restaurants where "static" food is being exposed to flies and other environmental nasties. Peeled or cut fruit is usually a bad idea unless you cut it yourself.

As part of your medical supplies, bring a sterilised needle kit – you can’t be certain that in a medical emergency you or your doctor will have access to a clean needle giving rise to the risk of infection from Hepatitis or AIDS.

Many animals carry rabies in India – you can catch it even if a dog licks an exposed cut on your skin. Rabies is fatal, so be wary of any roaming creatures, no matter how cute they look.

Communication

There are many public phone booths/shops available in India. Just look out for the PCO (local calls) STD (inter-state calls) and ISD (international calls) signs – usually around Internet Cafes which are easily found due to the fact that there are so many of them.

Phone sims can be purchased for your mobile if you have a passport sized photo available. I used Airtel which has extensive coverage all over India. You can also enable GPRS for internet requirements. It is extremely cheap compared to using your own sim card, even for international calls. Note that you have to enable roaming if leaving the state you bought the sim card in, and topping up – which can be done at any small mobile phone shop – will cost slightly more if you are roaming. Make sure your phone has an IMEI number or you won’t be able to use it – India banned the use of unregistered phones in December 2009 in the wake of the Mumbai attacks.

Scams

Indian people are generally reserved by nature, so anyone who approaches you on the street – especially near transport hubs and tourist attractions – is doing so because you are being singled out as a tourist and therefore a source of income for them. Of course this isn’t always the case, but the number of ingenious scams going on in India that will separate you and your cash – sometimes in very large sums – is endless.

Usually, a firm "No!" will do, but India is the land of the persistent scammer and you must be persistent in turn by putting the palm of your hand in their face or telling them to go forth and multiply vociferously – or better still, be prepared to completely ignore those who approach you as if they didn’t exist.

The most common offenders are auto-rickshaw drivers who will attempt to charge you as much as possible if you are from out of town, or try to take you to their "brother’s" shop or hotel where you will be massively overcharged and the driver will earn a nice commission out of you. Other scammers just stand around in the street waiting for their mark (i.e. you) and will strike up a conversation with the classic "Where are you from?" or by claiming they are just practising their English.

There are many dodgy travel agents in India too – always shop around or ask your hotel what they can offer. "Too good to be true" offers are usually there to entice you into a place where a trap will be sprung and you’ll end up literally paying far more than you bargained for.

Never use a credit card for purchases – cash only. The temptation for some unscrupulous shopkeepers to run up a number of transactions on top of the official one is just too great a temptation. Hotels are generally trustworthy in this respect.

Tout’s are usually confidence tricksters – that is, they will try to gain your confidence with sweet words concerning great deals (or even a meal with their families), but you will ultimately pay the price when dumped off on a high pressure sales team or are deposited in a quagmire of a hotel which has the best front desk you’ve ever seen, but the worst rooms. Again, use common sense. Source all of your hotels or guest houses first and only use these touts if you are desperate and willing to pay the price (which should never happen with a little preparation).

Scammers always ask you if this is your first time in India. This is to determine how gullible you are. Always answer "No."

Never accept food or drink from a stranger. It could potentially be drugged (it’s a known scam) and you may end up waking up without your possessions in a hospital with sore orifices (okay, so that’s a worst case scenario, but you will usually be robbed at the very least).

There are many other scams in India. To give the scammers credit, some are actually beautifully inventive. To keep up to date with them, check out your guidebook or the IndiaMike Scam Forum. Don’t get depressed about all of the scams out there – following the above advice and simply knowing they exist will ensure you don’t fall prey to them.

A final word of warning – corruption is rife in India, so try to avoid any reasons for having to contact the local police. You may end up having to buy your way out of any situation you find yourself in.

Shopping

India has been trading goods with other nations for thousands of years and haggling runs in the blood of most Indian people. It is in fact a very social practice and somewhat of a battle of wills. Remember, the idea is not to try to grind someone down so they hardly make a profit, but to reach a mutually acceptable price. What you have in your favour is that if one bazaar is selling that carved rock elephant you desperately want, another will also be selling the same a few metres away and a threat to buy from another trader will nearly always get you a price drop.

Major shops and chain stores operate in the same way as the West, and options for bargaining are limited, but many independent shops will nearly always display the maximum price they want for an item (if there is a price at all).

Remember, as a foreigner you stand out, so prices will often be three times as much as an Indian would be quoted. Start by offering a third of the price and start haggling up. If you don’t get the price you like, walk away. This act in itself will usually be enough to get you the price you asked for. If not, there will always be an opportunity to get that item somewhere else.

Toilets

Some would say this is not only my favourite subject, but the main inspiration for my sense of humour. Personally I think they’re talking out their arses.

Most toilets in Indian hotels and guest houses are western style. Occasionally you will find squat toilets where you straddle a hole in the ground, squat down and drop one into it. Many places have a small "water gun" hanging by the side of the cistern. This is for spraying a jet of water into your arse crack to clean it. Personally, I found these to be very hygienic – especially for the hot climate – keeping your anus clean, fresh and itch free, especially if you have piles.

Public toilets are few and far between and are about as hygienic as a blocked sewer (which is often what they are).

Showers generally come with two buckets – a large one for filling with hot water which you clean yourself with and a smaller one for filling with the water from the big bucket to pour over yourself. You don’t have to use these if the shower works however.

Beggars

Do as your conscience dictates. I’ve seen a beggar pull out a mobile phone to tell another beggar I was travelling in his direction. I’ve also seen desperate, starving people that have nearly brought me to tears. Whatever you decide, I would advise not to give to children as this only encourages them (and whoever may be coercing them) into a lifetime of begging and poverty. Instead, buy them some food and do as I do – donate money on a regular basis to one of the many charities that support the poor all over the world. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t actually spend all their money on advertising – that’s just an excuse for the apathetic and tight bastards.

Also, consider getting involved in an aid program.

Resources

IndiaMike is in my opinion the best travel resource for India, with an excellent forum for any questions you may have about your trip.

Virtual Tourist is useful for seeing other traveller recommendations for local places to visit, especially nightlife. Good scam information here too.

I love Wikitravel. I use it all the time to source possible destinations for my travels.

Lonely Planet guides can be both exasperating and a joy, mainly because of their over-exuberant scare mongering and because every hotel they recommend is full of people carrying Lonely Planet guides. Still, they are definitely useful – especially their "walking tours" if you are only in a place for a short time. Their forum is pretty good too.

Travel Junky is a witty and irreverent site that looks behind the scenes of the major travel destinations. Thoroughly entertaining.

British newspaper, The Guardian’s take on India.

British Government Travel Website is useful for seeing if riots/natural disasters/terrorist threats/alien invasions are coming to a town near you.

The Indian Ministry of Tourism website has some useful info to help plan itineraries, and most importantly lists all the Tourist Offices which are actually very helpful in India.

Foreign Embassies in India. Use this resource to note details of your embassy should you lose your passport or be involved in an accident or crime.

The Library of Congress has a list of Indian Internet resources.

Indian Blog Entries

Overwhelmingly, people comment that one of the most entertaining and informative blogs on India is by a dysfunctional miscreant called Rob Jamieson. Actually, only I would say that, because it’s me.

All of the information above is distilled from more than two months of travelling around India which I have extensively blogged. The blog is descriptive of all of the sites I have visited with plenty of pictures and sometimes video clips, and is also highly personal and hopefully amusing. But don’t trust me until you’ve checked it out for yourself.

I’ve listed each place I’ve visited in chronological order and by place name to make it easy to scan if you are planning an itinerary. Some links go to the same page if I’ve covered two places in the same blog.

Bangalore

Chennai

Mamallapuram

Pondicherry

Kumbakonam

Thanjavur

Madurai

Bangalore (again)

Posted via email from Rob Jamieson

Tips for Surviving the Subcontinent

India is a place of extremes, from lavish wealth to abysmal poverty; from beautiful natural landscapes to brutal urban slums; from blissfully peaceful settings to areas where you’ll receive constant harassment; this country is guaranteed to induce emotional highs and lows in any traveller. It is certainly not for everybody, but if you have a keen sense of adventure or require an experience that will give you a jolt, India will thoroughly reward you. Extreme poverty, hideous pollution, an endless tide of touts and scammers and very poor infrastructure is offset by a diverse and warm people, amazing scenery and fantastic monuments, temples and history.

Culture shock is something you will definitely experience no matter what part of the world you are from. India is highly populated and the sheer number of people around you can be overwhelming at first. However, it’s also important to remember that violent crime is low – generally the worst thing you’ll experience is being ripped off by commission touts or a crushing bout of diarrhoea.

Single female travellers may find it harder than others; Indians interpret Westerners from our own media – especially advertising – which has a habit of depicting scantily clad "available" women. Thus many Indian men think all western women are of loose moral virtue and may try to get away with the odd sleazy approach or even grope. If possible, hook up with other female travellers, or if you find yourself in an intolerable situation, loudly draw attention to it – Indian men are easily shamed in public.

Travel

Be aware that many travel agencies in India are merely commission men who book through more reputable agencies and pocket the extra money you give them. Nearly all hotels and hostels can arrange flights, taxis etc. and usually only charge 5-10% commission which saves you the hassle of standing in the queue at the railway station. Always ask for a quote first and if you feel you aren’t getting value for money, phone around or search the internet for comparable deals.

Railways

Travelling by train is a rewarding experience in most cases. However it can be confusing if you do not know how things work.

When you buy a ticket, you will either be assigned a seat number immediately or put on a "wait list" shown as W/L on your ticket. The wait list will consist of two numbers. The first number is the position you start the wait list on. Thus if you are waiting at 19th in the queue, 19 will be the first number. The second number is your current position, so in our example, initially that will be 19 too. However, if two people above you in the queue cancel, the second number will drop to seventeen – you will be W/L 19/17. Two hours before leaving the station, all the seats that have been set aside for dignitaries and railway employees etc. will be freed up and there’s a good chance you will suddenly find yourself with a seat. I’ve started a wait list well into the 30s and still been assigned a seat two hours before departure, but it all depends on the train and the type of seat booked.

The railway carriage you are assigned to will often have a list stuck next to the door with all of the people booked and their seat numbers, so if you cannot check whether you have been assigned a seat via phone or the internet, turn up and check the carriage door. If you can’t see your name, you can then decide if you want to take a chance and bluff your way on. You will usually be able to pay for either an upgrade or downgrade (be warned that a downgrade could mean travelling in a filthy carriage jam packed with people in very hot weather with no air conditioning).

For bookings, use the Indian Rail Website. You can use international credit cards to book, but the site is a little flaky (it has many, many users) and it may take a few attempts to actually book anything.

For more information, check out Seat61 which contains lots of useful information about riding the trains in India.

Taxis

Taxis and are cheap in India. Fares vary between states, but sometimes a pre-booked cab is the only way to travel, as you can go from A to B whilst visiting C and D on the way. Cabs can be booked via hotels, local travel agents, or take your pick from the local yellow pages. Drivers are generally reliable, honest and can occasionally act as a guide or even as a minder to keep away those pesky hawkers. Cabbies are normally paid a reasonable wage, so it is in their interest to keep you happy so that they keep their jobs. However, watch out for the fly-by-nights who offer you great deals on the streets. Their vehicles are usually on the verge of extinction and you may have to sit in sweltering heat while the driver tries to fix it every five miles you travel.

Vehicle Hire

Obviously you can hire a car in India, but almost invariably you have to return it to its point of origin. It’s the same deal with bikes. Make sure you are a confident driver, as you’ll need nerves of steel to confront the Indian road system.

Auto-rickshaws

The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was by cloning himself all over the world and going into the auto-rickshaw business. Treat every auto-rickshaw driver as a cheat and a liar (because they are). Do not let them take you anywhere other than your actual destination. Aim to pay 10 rupees per kilometre (it’s actually less but that is a fair price) and make sure you agree the price up front (metered auto rickshaw drivers will drive you around for ten kilometres before dropping you off at your destination which was three kilometres away). Okay, so not all auto-rickshaw drivers are the devil, but in most big cities they will rob you blind or cart you around to every handicraft shop in town where they earn a commission before leaving you bruised and battered at your destination. Always refuse to be taken anywhere other than your destination and be firm about it, or you will be ripped off or exposed to high pressure sales techniques that can easily turn ugly.

Nearly all major railway stations have prepay auto-rickshaw stands outside them. Take your time and find these, or ask for directions at the information desk in the station. When you find them, you usually pay a nominal fee of 1 or 2 rupees to the stand and are given a ticket with a fair price to your destination. You will generally get no hassles from these drivers as they only get paid to take you where you want to go, but do not give the ticket to the driver until you reach your destination – he will not be paid without it.

Most importantly, do not encourage touts by going with the first idiot that latches onto you when you leave the station – you will pay between 3-5 times the regular price and encourage "good" drivers to the dark side when they see others making silly money by being aggressive at the station entrance.

You have been warned.

Buses

State buses have regular services – often hourly – to long distance destinations and can be jumped on at most central bus stands. You pay the conductor once you have climbed aboard in cash only. They are cheap and can get very packed at certain times of the day, but are definitely worth a go. Most state bus drivers are clinically insane and blind to any other traffic on the road. They also have a phobia about taking their foot off the accelerator.

More comfortable buses can be booked, but for me they weren’t comfortable enough to justify the extra cost and the driving was almost as bad. At least you get the ultimate hair-raising thrill of nearly dying on a state bus. Don’t sit at the back though – the buses thunder over bumps and pot holes in the road like they don’t exist and you get the full spine rattling effect in the back seat.

Planes

I must admit, I only used Kingfisher Airlines as they had extensive internal routes, were cheap and were excellent in terms of service. However, there are other airlines you can use such as Jet and Air India.

I did have problems using my credit card on the Kingfisher Airlines website, in which case I used Ebookers for the same price plus a 5-10% commission.

Skyscanner is a good resource for finding cheap flights.

Rules of the Road

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!

No seriously.

Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Okay, from meticulous study, the only rule I’ve worked out is that there is a hierarchy of objects on the road. Let’s start from the lowest to the highest in order of importance (and therefore right of way).

Women. Sorry girls, but if anything is going to be run over it is you.

Children.

Men.

Bicycles.

Motorbikes.

Bicycle rickshaws.

Auto rickshaws.

Cars.

Vans and trucks.

Buses.

Finally the thing that gets complete right of way, the humble cow.

Travel Essentials

Immunisation. See your doctor at least six weeks before you travel to find out what you need to be immunised against.

A visa. Make sure you have one – nearly everybody requires one to enter the country.

Travel Insurance valid for what you intend to do (action sports etc.)

A medical kit including sterilised needles.

A mobile phone. Essential for emergencies and useful at all other times.

Conservative clothing – you need to cover up not just in Temples but on the streets. Local people can become indignant at the sight of foreigners wandering around in beach wear – even on the beach!

A torch and spare batteries (or even better, a wind up torch). Power cuts are rife all over India.

Toilet paper. Some hotels don’t stock it, so always carry a roll just in case.

Mosquito repellent. Those pesky flies are everywhere – especially near areas of stagnant water where they breed. Deet based repellents are most effective, but be aware that deet is toxic and can cause allergic reactions.

A mosquito net.

Anti-malarials if you are going to a high risk zone.

A rain jacket. Even outside of the monsoon period, Indian skies can deliver lots of water very rapidly. Monsoon periods also vary between geographical regions, and some places have more than one monsoon.

A universal adapter for plugging in any electronic items you may have such as a mobile phone.

A pen knife or multitool.

Gaffer tape. Great for temporarily mending bags, mosquito nets, even clothes at a pinch.

Needle and thread.

A travel pouch. Something discreet that you can wear under your clothes to keep passports, credit cards and money safely hidden from the clutches of pick pockets.

Passport sized photographs. Always useful in case you lose your passport, need a phone sim or decide on the spur of the moment to get a visa for Nepal or something further afield.

Earplugs. India can be a noisy place especially in the cities.

A padlock and chain for securing your bags on trains, buses and even your hotel room. The padlock can come in handy to lock doors in some hostels/hotels where the lock is broken.

Two photocopies of your passport, kept in separate places in case you lose the original.

Phone numbers – emergency numbers, credit card and bank numbers etc. Keep a printed copy in case you lose your phone.

Loperamide (Imodium) tablets to stave off diarrhoea temporarily on those long journeys. 

Accommodation

The variety of hotels all over India is vast, from renting a room in a converted palace (seriously) to a grubby, rat-infested toilet (seriously).

If you are just turning up in the hope of finding cheap, quality accommodation, then good luck! Always ask to see a room, check the toilet to make sure it has working facilities, lift a pillow and have a look for bed bugs (also on the floor next to the bed) and have a quick look behind furniture or in dark spaces for cockroaches. Smell is also a fairly good indicator! Make sure windows shut properly or you could end up being eaten alive by mosquitoes.

In my opinion, the best way to find decent accommodation is to discover what other people think of a place. This is where the internet excels. My favourite sites for checking the quality of a place are Tripadviser which has hundreds of user reviews of different hotels and B&Bs (some of them very amusing) and Hostelworld which has cheap but usually good quality accommodation listed (again with user reviews). Remember that you don’t have to chose a place in the top five listings; many decent places can still be found half way down the list.

I also found Booking.com quite useful in reserving the actual rooms as they don’t have an obvious surcharge (I’ve used most of the big booking sites and they are only good value if you can get a deal when staying more than one day). Hotels.com is a useful alternative, but you will pay a surcharge at the end of the booking process.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Guest Houses are a poor option. There are some fantastic, clean and inexpensive options all over India. Just do your homework first on the above listed comparison websites.

Homestays are a great way of meeting Indian families and having a great adventure too. I stayed with my friend Anil at the Buena Vista Hut in Wayanad. Check out the site – it lists other homestays around the country too.

Health and Safety

Get comprehensive insurance before you go. I hate insurance. As an insider in the insurance industry for several years I know what a con it can be. However, comprehensive travel insurance is a must. When it comes to your own personal health, you do not want to be stuck in some backwater medical facility suffering from an infected wound just because you can’t afford proper treatment.

The biggest threat by far to your health in India is on the roads. According to statistics, India has the most dangerous roads in the world and once you see how Indians drive you’ll understand why. Learn how to cross the road properly – always keep your wits about you, keep a steady pace and always stare at the oncoming traffic, gesturing for them to slow down with an upraised palm. Keep looking both ways especially as you near the far side of the road as some people travel the wrong way on bikes near the kerb. Most tourist accidents involve scooters or motorbikes. Only hire one of these if you are confident handling them and you think you understand how the road system works (which I doubt because not even Indians know that). Never drink and drive – the roads are crazy enough when you’re sober, and always wear a helmet on a bike.

Malaria is something you should not ignore and dengue fever even more so. Visiting most areas of India does not require you to take anti-malarials (see this map for details of malaria hotspots) but you should always use a deet based mosquito repellent spray or cream (Odomos is a cream you can buy in India which is actually very good). Cover your feet, legs, arms and head (either with clothes or repellent) and wear bright clothing (mosquitoes love emos). The truth is, some people attract mozzies more than others (I’m lucky – I rarely get bitten) and infection rates are quite low but prevention is better than cure – malaria and dengue are rotten illnesses, sometimes fatal. The bites themselves can become very itchy, irritating and occasionally infected.

Diarrhoea is a very common traveller’s complaint in India. If you get it, drink lots of fluids with rehydration salts when necessary. If it persists for more than two or three days, seek medical help. Dehydration will weaken you severely and if left untreated can damage your internal organs or kill you.

Always drink bottled water and make sure the bottle is properly sealed as there is a scam where old bottles are filled from the tap and resold. Crush all bottles after you use them to avoid this. You can obtain water purification tablets from any good travel shop for emergencies. Tap water in India is often unchecked and unreliable in terms of cleanliness, and most Indian people have built a natural immunity to many of the bugs that would wipe a foreigner out. Because of this, also avoid ice in drinks.

Similarly, be wary of street food or empty restaurants where "static" food is being exposed to flies and other environmental nasties. Peeled or cut fruit is usually a bad idea unless you cut it yourself.

As part of your medical supplies, bring a sterilised needle kit – you can’t be certain that in a medical emergency you or your doctor will have access to a clean needle giving rise to the risk of infection from Hepatitis or AIDS.

Many animals carry rabies in India – you can catch it even if a dog licks an exposed cut on your skin. Rabies is fatal, so be wary of any roaming creatures, no matter how cute they look.

Communication

There are many public phone booths/shops available in India. Just look out for the PCO (local calls) STD (inter-state calls) and ISD (international calls) signs – usually around Internet Cafes which are easily found due to the fact that there are so many of them.

Phone sims can be purchased for your mobile if you have a passport sized photo available. I used Airtel which has extensive coverage all over India. You can also enable GPRS for internet requirements. It is extremely cheap compared to using your own sim card, even for international calls. Note that you have to enable roaming if leaving the state you bought the sim card in, and topping up – which can be done at any small mobile phone shop – will cost slightly more if you are roaming. Make sure your phone has an IMEI number or you won’t be able to use it – India banned the use of unregistered phones in December 2009 in the wake of the Mumbai attacks.

Scams

Indian people are generally reserved by nature, so anyone who approaches you on the street – especially near transport hubs and tourist attractions – is doing so because you are being singled out as a tourist and therefore a source of income for them. Of course this isn’t always the case, but the number of ingenious scams going on in India that will separate you and your cash – sometimes in very large sums – is endless.

Usually, a firm "No!" will do, but India is the land of the persistent scammer and you must be persistent in turn by putting the palm of your hand in their face or telling them to go forth and multiply vociferously – or better still, be prepared to completely ignore those who approach you as if they didn’t exist.

The most common offenders are auto-rickshaw drivers who will attempt to charge you as much as possible if you are from out of town, or try to take you to their "brother’s" shop or hotel where you will be massively overcharged and the driver will earn a nice commission out of you. Other scammers just stand around in the street waiting for their mark (i.e. you) and will strike up a conversation with the classic "Where are you from?" or by claiming they are just practising their English.

There are many dodgy travel agents in India too – always shop around or ask your hotel what they can offer. "Too good to be true" offers are usually there to entice you into a place where a trap will be sprung and you’ll end up literally paying far more than you bargained for.

Never use a credit card for purchases – cash only. The temptation for some unscrupulous shopkeepers to run up a number of transactions on top of the official one is just too great a temptation. Hotels are generally trustworthy in this respect.

Tout’s are usually confidence tricksters – that is, they will try to gain your confidence with sweet words concerning great deals (or even a meal with their families), but you will ultimately pay the price when dumped off on a high pressure sales team or are deposited in a quagmire of a hotel which has the best front desk you’ve ever seen, but the worst rooms. Again, use common sense. Source all of your hotels or guest houses first and only use these touts if you are desperate and willing to pay the price (which should never happen with a little preparation).

Scammers always ask you if this is your first time in India. This is to determine how gullible you are. Always answer "No."

Never accept food or drink from a stranger. It could potentially be drugged (it’s a known scam) and you may end up waking up without your possessions in a hospital with sore orifices (okay, so that’s a worst case scenario, but you will usually be robbed at the very least).

There are many other scams in India. To give the scammers credit, some are actually beautifully inventive. To keep up to date with them, check out your guidebook or the IndiaMike Scam Forum. Don’t get depressed about all of the scams out there – following the above advice and simply knowing they exist will ensure you don’t fall prey to them.

A final word of warning – corruption is rife in India, so try to avoid any reasons for having to contact the local police. You may end up having to buy your way out of any situation you find yourself in.

Shopping

India has been trading goods with other nations for thousands of years and haggling runs in the blood of most Indian people. It is in fact a very social practice and somewhat of a battle of wills. Remember, the idea is not to try to grind someone down so they hardly make a profit, but to reach a mutually acceptable price. What you have in your favour is that if one bazaar is selling that carved rock elephant you desperately want, another will also be selling the same a few metres away and a threat to buy from another trader will nearly always get you a price drop.

Major shops and chain stores operate in the same way as the West, and options for bargaining are limited, but many independent shops will nearly always display the maximum price they want for an item (if there is a price at all).

Remember, as a foreigner you stand out, so prices will often be three times as much as an Indian would be quoted. Start by offering a third of the price and start haggling up. If you don’t get the price you like, walk away. This act in itself will usually be enough to get you the price you asked for. If not, there will always be an opportunity to get that item somewhere else.

Toilets

Some would say this is not only my favourite subject, but the main inspiration for my sense of humour. Personally I think they’re talking out their arses.

Most toilets in Indian hotels and guest houses are western style. Occasionally you will find squat toilets where you straddle a hole in the ground, squat down and drop one into it. Many places have a small "water gun" hanging by the side of the cistern. This is for spraying a jet of water into your arse crack to clean it. Personally, I found these to be very hygienic – especially for the hot climate – keeping your anus clean, fresh and itch free, especially if you have piles.

Public toilets are few and far between and are about as hygienic as a blocked sewer (which is often what they are).

Showers generally come with two buckets – a large one for filling with hot water which you clean yourself with and a smaller one for filling with the water from the big bucket to pour over yourself. You don’t have to use these if the shower works however.

Beggars

Do as your conscience dictates. I’ve seen a beggar pull out a mobile phone to tell another beggar I was travelling in his direction. I’ve also seen desperate, starving people that have nearly brought me to tears. Whatever you decide, I would advise not to give to children as this only encourages them (and whoever may be coercing them) into a lifetime of begging and poverty. Instead, buy them some food and do as I do – donate money on a regular basis to one of the many charities that support the poor all over the world. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t actually spend all their money on advertising – that’s just an excuse for the apathetic and tight bastards.

Also, consider getting involved in an aid program.

Resources

IndiaMike is in my opinion the best travel resource for India, with an excellent forum for any questions you may have about your trip.

Virtual Tourist is useful for seeing other traveller recommendations for local places to visit, especially nightlife. Good scam information here too.

I love Wikitravel. I use it all the time to source possible destinations for my travels.

Lonely Planet guides can be both exasperating and a joy, mainly because of their over-exuberant scare mongering and because every hotel they recommend is full of people carrying Lonely Planet guides. Still, they are definitely useful – especially their "walking tours" if you are only in a place for a short time. Their forum is pretty good too.

Travel Junky is a witty and irreverent site that looks behind the scenes of the major travel destinations. Thoroughly entertaining.

British newspaper, The Guardian’s take on India.

British Government Travel Website is useful for seeing if riots/natural disasters/terrorist threats/alien invasions are coming to a town near you.

The Indian Ministry of Tourism website has some useful info to help plan itineraries, and most importantly lists all the Tourist Offices which are actually very helpful in India.

Foreign Embassies in India. Use this resource to note details of your embassy should you lose your passport or be involved in an accident or crime.

The Library of Congress has a list of Indian Internet resources.

Indian Blog Entries

Overwhelmingly, people comment that one of the most entertaining and informative blogs on India is by a dysfunctional miscreant called Rob Jamieson. Actually, only I would say that, because it’s me.

All of the information above is distilled from more than two months of travelling around India which I have extensively blogged. The blog is descriptive of all of the sites I have visited with plenty of pictures and sometimes video clips, and is also highly personal and hopefully amusing. But don’t trust me until you’ve checked it out for yourself.

I’ve listed each place I’ve visited in chronological order and by place name to make it easy to scan if you are planning an itinerary. Some links go to the same page if I’ve covered two places in the same blog.

Bangalore

Chennai

Mamallapuram

Pondicherry

Kumbakonam

Thanjavur

Madurai

Bangalore (again)

Posted via email from Rob Jamieson