Kolkata to Kathmandu

Today is exactly two moths since we arrived in India. We woke up early to a final serving of semolina and juice courtesy of the maids and were, as expected, ready to leave Anando's house earlier than planned. We sat around for a while, said a big thank you to Anando's Mum and Dad, handed over a thank you bottle of sake to our host and packed the last of our belongings into our bags.

As we headed out the gate my two favourite dogs (the mother I'd been feeding and the puppy who loves tummy rubs) were waiting to see us off. I fed them some stale bread, told them not to eat any poison and reluctantly got in the car to begin the treacherous drive to the airport.

The traffic, in true Indian form, was some of the worst we have seen. Not only was it peak hour and congested but everybody was making it worse by not sticking to their lanes, not indicating, weaving, running red lights and doing illegal u-turns all while the traffic police stood by and watched. The usual. Anando informed us that getting a licence in India does not require taking any tests, be they written or practical, and this fact explained a lot of our difficulties on the roads over the past two months.

We arrived at the airport and thought the most difficult part of the journey to the airport was over. Nope...we needed to get inside and this was no straight forward matter. Unlike home, where you simply walk in and out of the airport as you please, paranoid India has security at the door demanding proof that you are flying on that day before they will let you enter. We did not have a printed copy of such proof. Anando supervised us while we showed our confirmation email, thanks to the iPad, and had our passports checked thoroughly before we could say goodbye to Anando and go inside.

Although the check-in counters were supposed to open three hours before departure we sat and waited, watching the minutes tick by, until finally they decided to open the counters and we lined up. Nothing is straight forward in India though so, when we finally reached the counter, we were told we needed to go and have our bags x-rayed and strapped up with a security strap before we could check them in. More paranoia. We moved to the other side of the terminal and joined a new line so we could do just that. Just as we thought we were home free and would be able to check our bags in, an already frustrated Chris got taken aside.

"Do you have a dagger in your bag sir?" asked the x-ray attendant.

I couldn't help but laugh. We pulled out the tripod thinking perhaps they had mistaken it for a dagger. We were wrong. They then looked at my bag...was the dagger in there I wondered? My bag had already been strapped up though so it seems that the whole thing got put in the too hard basket. They simply told us to pack up our things, strapped Chris' bag and let us go. The dagger was to remain a mystery to both them and us. I'm unsure why having a dagger in your checked-in luggage would be a problem anyway. Its not like we could duck into the luggage compartment mid-flight. Back to the check-in counters we went.

This time everybody was mobbing around the desk filling in immigration forms. We made it to being second in line and watched as the guy in front of us looked surprised when the lady behind the counter asked to check-in his baggage. His friend set off across the terminal to get it.

Finally, we had made it to the front of the queue. We checked in and realised that we did not have to fill out the immigration forms there and then as the mob surrounding the desk suggested. They were just filling theirs out at the counter as to make life difficult for everybody else. We took our forms, filled them out somewhere more appropriate, and continued to immigration. Despite the guy having to put my passport through a couple of times to get it to scan, we made it. But that pit stop only allowed us to move a further two or three metres before our passports and boarding passes needed to be checked again. The stamps on Chris' boarding pass were inky and smudging everywhere which made pulling it in and out of our bag interesting. Next stop...customs.

Customs was a group of about six workers standing around having a chat. We walked past without even being glanced at. Next...another passport and boarding pass check. Just in case the other three people we had already passed through hadn't done their jobs properly I guess.

After having our hand luggage scanned and having ourselves scanned also we were through! With an hour to kill before finally leaving Indian soil we ate at the only cafe that existed beyond security. It was a basic setup to say the least but the pizza, pasties and chicken enchilada-like thing were delicious.

We sat in the freezing airconditioning and listened to an incomplete automated announcement on repeat while we watched our scheduled boarding time come and go. Eventually our flight was called, ten minutes prior to the scheduled departure time, and we passed through another four checkpoints within two metres of each other before we could head towards the plane. One person to tick our name off a list, another to check our hand luggage had a security stamp (luckily we hadn't discarded those annoying name tags they give and instead had tied them to our bag), another person to check our passports and another to tear the boarding pass. Such a waste of human labour.

The flight to Kathmandu was short, only an hour and a quarter. As we descended over Kathmandu, a heavy layer of cloud obscured our view of the famous mountains. We did catch a few glimpses of the snowy peaks though and even these looked like giants compared to any mountains we had ever seen before.

We sure knew it when we touched down in Kathmandu. It was probably the hardest hitting, bumpiest landing either of us had experienced. As we stepped off the plane the weather was much cooler than it had been in Kolkata and we felt it as we waited on the tarmac for a bus to take us to the terminal. Once inside the terminal we managed to find the arrival cards and visa application forms and, once we found the ones that were in English, they were easy enough to complete. As we worked out our next move we read a sign which listed the accepted currencies for the visa payment. Indian rupees were not accepted so the wad of cash Big Red had made us was no good. We would need to exchange it. This was no easy feat. The money exchange place did not accept 500 Indian rupee notes which was what the majority of our 68000 was in. We were directed to an ATM which would give us Nepalese rupees. Hilariously, Nepalese rupees, the local currency, just like the neighbouring country's currency, could not be used to purchase the visa. We would need to take the money from the ATM and exchange it for US dollars. Getting money from this darn ATM was a mission and we weren't the only ones having problems. The other tourists were more than helpful as we all tried to figure out what was going on with the visa purchasing issues.

We tried and tried with our fee-free MasterCard we had been using throughout the trip but had no success. Eventually we gave in and used Chris' Australian card. While it worked, we had to do multiple transactions to get enough money for our visas and each transaction was undoubtedly costing us a fortune. It didn't help that Chris accidentally got out 1000 instead of 10000 in one of those transactions.

Once we had some cash we could exchange it for US dollars which could then be used to purchase the visa. Considering all of this hassle we got through immigration, luggage collection and customs faster than anticipated and braced ourselves for the attack of Kathmandu. We had read online to be prepared for beeping, screeching and crowds of taxi drivers and hotel owners grabbing at us. I'm not sure whether it was a quiet day in Kathmandu or whether we'd been in India too long but Kathmandu airport was absolutely fine! We brushed off a few overpriced taxis and, after checking the distance from the airport to the touristy city suburb of Thamel, decided we would simply walk. We were in Nepal after all, and we needed some training for our trek.

We headed towards the setting sun and were immediately pleased with the relative lack of rubbish, lack of beeping and presence of a footpath. While the footpath didn't last long and the beeping did increase slightly, this place had nothing on India.

We crossed into Thamel (the tourist centre of Kathmandu) and knew it immediately. Souvenir shops popped up out of nowhere and all of a sudden camping supplies were everywhere! After checking out a few guesthouses we settled on a place for 800 rupees a night. It was quiet. We were happy, despite the bed being more like a rock than a bed.

Our first job was to sort out a bus that would get us to Besishar tomorrow so we could then go to Gaunshahar and I could volunteer. We asked at a travel agent and were grateful to have done our research as the information she gave was both incomplete and overpriced. Thankfully we found a helpful travel agent who gave us free information that would be confirmed by our favourite agent of the night...Gopal. We found his office located up a dark staircase and he was more than helpful. Not only did he assist us in forming plans for tomorrow but also informed us that Phaplu airport is under on-and-off construction but should hopefully be open in a few weeks when we want to get there. We told Gopal we would be in touch and set to the streets.

We checked out all of the rip-off North Face camping gear and spotted quite a few souvenirs that we may like to purchase on our way home. Soon it was dinner time and, down a side street, I spotted sign advertising a steakhouse. Chris did not need much convincing. Turns out the place is recommended by the Lonely Planet and, as we soon discovered, this was for good reason. We each ordered a beef (yes...beef!) steak with peppery mushroom sauce, chunky cut chips and salad. It was exactly what we needed and was exactly like you would get at a pub back home.

We returned to find our quiet guesthouse transformed by a rooftop bar blaring live music from across the courtyard. It was essentially being blared directly into our room. Earplugs were a must. We could only hope we would have more luck finding some than in India where nobody knew what the darn things were. After trying three pharmacies and having no luck we were on our way home when I spotted a grocery store. Might as well give it a try I thought. Success! On our way we changed some Indian rupees to Nepalese rupees and then visited Bam at our favourite camping shop again, took down a few prices, and planned to return at a later date. We were way too tired for bargaining. It was bedtime.

As the music from next door kept us awake it became clear that, in Nepal, it will most likely be the tourists that keep us up for a change, not the locals. Regardless, we are loving Nepal. There is less beeping, the people seem genuinely friendly and less pushy and there are real steak knives!

 

 

 

 

Kolkata: Planning for Nepal and Missing Puppies

Stray

Breakfast this morning was another delicious serving of French toast and sausages. While we fried the bread I also scored a cooking lesson on how to make that amazing spiced pumpkin mash that we had the other day.

There was some leftover toast from breakfast so we excitedly went in search of the puppies that hang out by the road so we could feed them. They were nowhere to be seen. Back at Anando's, his maid informed us that the puppies were gone. Two nights ago, because they bark, somebody had fed them poison. Only my favourite had survived, being lucky enough to be taken in and cared for by Anando's neighbour. No wonder she was still nervous when she saw me last night. Still, she wasn't around today and I couldn't help but worry the horrible person who had taken the lives of her family had got her too.

Lunch

Having convinced Anando to come with us for a month to Nepal we spent an hour confirming our anticipated trekking itinerary while waiting for our load of washing to finish.

Then, having used up all of the Internet on our phones, and with lots of bookings to make, we headed out to recharge.

For our final lunch at Anando's the maid had cooked up some of our favourites. The mashed pumpkin I had seen cooked earlier was served with rice, an onion dahl, beans and potatoes and the coconut prawns we had loved so much.

Mummy Dog

As we got ready to head out for the afternoon I heard Anando yell from upstairs, "Lauren! The mother dog is waiting outside!" I stuck my head out and there she was! I grabbed a piece of this morning's French toast and excitedly went outside to feed her. I gave her some pats but, who was I kidding, we both knew why we were here. I ripped off small pieces of the toast and fed them to her one at a time. She was patient and gentle, barely touching my fingers as she took the toast from me. She never snatched, never rushed. She just sat there and waited for each coming morsel. Relaxing she laid down and, taking my cue from her, I got comfortable as I gave out toast and pats. Another female came by also but was more nervous, choosing to stand back as I threw her the odd piece of toast. Maybe more dogs had survived than we thought?

Tonny

We were out of time and needed to get going. As we headed out...there she was. One of the puppies! She was cautious at first but quickly went into playful belly-scratching mode. Promising her I'd return later with food we continued to the car and to Tonny, the carpark owner, who is quickly becoming one of my favourite people from this trip. While Anando got the car out of the tight car park, Chris, Tonny and I posed for photos with a cycle rickshaws. Despite not having any language in common, we shared smiles and thumbs ups as I showed him the photos of us.

We drove into the city, parked up at the mall and Anando went off to dancing, leaving Chris and I to go shopping! We grabbed a few essentials, and also a few non-essentials. Chris got cuff links and we also got a beautiful card for Anando's Mum.

Once we finished at the mall we went over to the International School and watched the end of the dance class. It was then back to the mall for a few more errands before we could drop Devaleena off and head home. On the way we convinced Anando to stop off at a florist so we could grab some flowers for his Mum. We crossed our fingers that she would like our selection. And she did. We wrote on the card, grabbed the flowers that's we had left in the courtyard, and handed over our gift.

Then it was puppy feeding time. French toast in hand we hit the dark streets. While we didn't find my favourite puppy we did find the mother, who I had fed earlier, as well as the father and one other. The mother remembered me and did not hesitate to eat up as much French toast as I would allow. The others needed some convincing but were happy enough to eat from my hand by the end of it. I would love to know what breed the dogs are, or what breed they are mostly mixed with, because they have the most beautiful gentle nature.

The evening was to consist of pizza, beer and Bacardi breeders so we settled in in front of the TV then related upstairs to watch our inspiring Everest documentary from beginning to end. Throughout the day a pain in my hip had been getting progressively worse so we went to bed hoping that tomorrow, when we fly to the trekking capital of the world, it is feeling better. Only I could manage to pinch something with this sort of inconvenient timing.

 

Kolkata: Goodbye Big Red, Old Friend

This morning we were thankfully feeling better than yesterday. We had another breakfast of semolina and orange juice before the boys gave Big Red some final love and attention on his last morning with us.

I spoke to Boss Man both before and after breakfast. I was on a quest to get his worker here before midday as we had plans for the afternoon. Considering he was actually due to do the exchange last night, we figured this was reasonable. However, it was proving more difficult than it should have been. Boss Man finally agreed and said his worker would arrive within the hour. There were a few phone calls between the worker and Anando (thankfully they had Hindi in common because bus English was very basic) as the guy tried to work out where we lived. He assumed Anando was the owner of our guesthouse and we did not correct his assumption. We wanted the upper hand and were hoping the element of surprise might grant us that. Meanwhile we watched some more of the Everest DVD before practicing how to check the authenticity of Indian rupees, learning to look for the hologram of Ghandi which proved the note to be real. Two and a half hours after the last phone call with Boss Man, and nowhere near being within the hour as promised, the guy arrived.

When he finally did arrive he had a backpack which looked promising as I imagined it was full of cash. But, in true Boss Man style, even his workers are unorganised and inefficient. He hadn't yet gone to an ATM to get the cash. We started the bike and, once he was satisfied that it did indeed start, he indicated that he would need to go to an ATM and come back.

Anando jumped on the back of the bike and they set off to the ATMs, plural, as such a large sum of cash could not be retrieved from just one machine. Meanwhile I became more and more nervous, more and more stressed, more and more jittery. Chris offered me a whiskey but I declined.

They took forever! Or at least it seemed like forever as Chris and I sat and waited in the living room. Just as we were getting worried that they may never return, they pulled up. Anando walked inside and the first thing he said was "watch this guy's hands." Not the best way to settle my nerves. The next thing I knew, the worker had called Boss Man and put me on the phone and I was listening to him try to tell me that the wheel alignment was shot and that the bike needed a service and therefore he would not pay us as much as promised. I was not in the mood for his remarks and quickly informed him that if he wasn't willing to pay the 68000 right now, he could put his worker back on the train and leave Big Red with us. Thankfully he didn't realise that, without the NOC form he failed to give us, a resale here would be tricky. My bluff worked and he agreed.

Despite the money being fresh from the ATM we made him sit while we counted, recounted and recounted the notes again. Then we checked each and every note for the holograms. Taking great pleasure in making him wait like Boss Man had made us wait in Chennai, we took our time.

When we were satisfied we had the 68000 rupees we thought it was a done deal. But then he wanted the helmets. When bargaining with Boss Man a few days ago I had offered the helmets for free if he agreed to pay the 70000 I was asking. As he had declined, the helmets were taken off the table. Apparently the missed this part of the conversation as he was now adamant that I was going back on my word. I was not prepared to sit and take this kind of talk after he had gone back on his word so many times. I think he got the drift of my displeasure and he quickly gave up.

The problem for the worker who had come to do the exchange was that, unlike Tamil Nadu, West Bengal had strict laws about riders wearing helmets. The guy was in a jam as he was expecting them to be included. Not budging, and already annoyed that they'd tried to get more money out of us than we agreed, I told him that I'd sell him a helmet for 1000 rupees from his own pocket. He tried to tell us that the orange helmet was only worth 600 rupees but, unluckily for him, we had an answer for that too. This guy had been the same guy who had taken us to buy the helmets in Chennai and we still had our receipt. He had let us be overcharged and it was now back to bite him. We had paid 990 for the orange helmet. We revelled in the fact. Unwillingly, and after much argument, he handed over 1000 rupees then wanted the black helmet instead. Yeah right! We offered to throw in the clear visor for free, just to show what nice people we are, but he declined. Apparently it wasn't worth the 200 rupees we had been charged in Chennai. He rode off, unhappy to say the least.

After a few minutes of celebration the darn guy returned. He was dissatisfied to have paid 1000 rupees for a second hand helmet that was only worth 990 (or 600 in his eyes). We were kind and gave him 100 rupees back just to get rid of him. And then...it was over.

It was a sad morning. When a machine helps to safely carry you 8034km around a country with the highest number of traffic related deaths of anywhere in the world, you grow attached. We were a little family that was being torn apart and the best we could hope was that Big Red would be sold to new owners who would love him and care for him as we had.

Our day was well and truly running behind schedule and there was little hope of Anando making his 1:30pm dance class. We had a quick lunch of rice, dahl, fried potatoes and spicy eggs before finally being able to head into town.

We parked up at the mall once again and met Devaleena who had been at dancing. Anando needed to get some hiking boots so that was our first job. Deciding not to bother even trying on the mustard ones due to a colour clash, he settled quickly after trying just two pairs. Too easy! We then had time to kill and, as there weren't any ridiculous Bollywood films showing, we did what anybody would do in our situation...we went for drinks.

Back at Zara, the tapas bar, we had a pitcher of peachy sangria. Once that was finished we figured we might as well continue with our errands and set off for the backstreet camping store at which we have become regulars. Familiar faces greeted us and we checked out the stock they had had delivered in anticipation of our visit. We left with one waterproof bag cover for Chris and each of us got a pair of gloves that, after watching the documentary, are probably necessary for when the mercury plumets below -10 degrees celcius at 5000m above sea level.

Again we had time to kill. This time we killed it by going sightseeing. We drove across the city to James Princep Memorial, a very grand columned structure and checked out all of the canoodling couples. We then continued down to Princep Ghat to view the holy Ganges Ganga. Looking at it just wasn't enough for Anando though and, while I wasn't allowed to climb down the slippery stairs to dip my toes in, we were to go for a boat ride.

Ganges Boat Rides

We walked further down the river and found a place that did boat tours. Our tiny wooden boat turned up and the four of us climbed aboard. It was peaceful as we cruised along the water in the darkness, even if the odd stinky drain did mar the experience slightly. Oh, and our hacking, bong sucking boat drivers. As we cruised along Anando investigated the interior of the boat cabin, if you could call it that, and noted the mirror, toothbrush, toothpaste, clothes hooks and comb. Either people lived on these boats or our theory about young school kids canoodling in them was proving true.

Lazing on the deck

Boat Rides

After an hour on the water we returned to shore and walked back to the car to take the drive back across town to Kolkata's famous Park Street which throbs with restaurants and bars. We wandered around for a while in search of live music but found only a lady singing ear-piercing old Bollywood tunes. After wandering some more we settled on Moulin Rouge restaurant and, as we walked in, were rewarded with a jazzy duet of saxophone and piano playing everything from Elvis to Edelweiss.

The food was delicious. Roast duck, fish and chips, chicken Sicilian and a sizzling mix of fish, lamb, chicken and prawns. We dropped Devaleena home before Anando got us lost in the backstreets while trying to take a shortcut. When we finally got directed back to a main road thanks to a friendly local, we were pretty much back where we started. Oh well. We battled the trucks with the high beaming headlights and made it home just in time for us to get to bed before midnight. On our way down the lane way to Anando's house, the curious but nervous puppy from yesterday came to say hi. This time she was happy and trusting enough to roll over and enjoy a good old fashioned tummy rub. She was quickly becoming my favourite and I tried to think of ways I could smuggle her through Nepal and back to Australia.

Stray puppy

 

Kolkata: Sick Again...Japanese Food!

Chris and I both woke intermittently throughout the early hours of the morning feeling like somebody was kicking our stomachs from the inside. After visiting the bathroom a few times we rose and had breakfast. Mutton seekh kebabs and buttered brown toast.

Despite Anando's offer to go sightseeing we decided that a better idea was to rest our bellies and laze around for the day. Chris napped while I took photos of him and then we spent a little time planning an itinerary for our upcoming trek. As I said in my first blog post all those months ago...planning really is half the fun. The excitement is building rapidly as we read about where we will be walking each day.

Expertly mixing the pumpkin and rice

Lunch was to be a meal easy on the tummies. Pure vegetarian food. Mind you, we still managed to stuff ourselves as usual this time with rice, dahl, okra, and delicious spiced pumpkin mash. To enjoy the pumpkin to its fullest potential it needed to be mixed with the rice and knives and forks simply were not sufficient. Anando tried giving us a lesson on mixing with our hands and we gave it a good go but his Mum just couldn't bear to see us struggling so much. She took over and, with her experienced hands, mixed up the pumpkin and rice for all three of us. And, you know what? It really did taste better. There was also a curry made with unripe bananas that was there to help our tummies feel better. It tasting fantastic was just a bonus. We finished the meal with Chris' favourite...mishti doi, the sweet curd flavoured with the juice of dates. So good and a true Bengali specialty.

During the afternoon Boss Man called to let us know that he had put somebody on the train to come to Kolkata but the train was delayed so they may not arrive until 8pm. They may also want to rest for the night and then come and get the bike tomorrow morning. We were to wait for a call.

We had a lazy day, hanging around the house until 5:45pm when we jumped in the car and drove and drove to pick Devaleena up from work. After going the wrong way thanks to what Anando referred to as "a woman's bad sense of direction," we found her. Devaleena drove us to dinner and we held on as she zipped through traffic at speed.

Anando and Devaleena

We had dinner at Wasabi, a Japanese restaurant that also sold Chinese and Thai. Fried pork wontons, salmon sushi, seafood fried rice, pad Thai and a Panang Curry. So much food and so delicious. Thankfully our bellies were feeling better by this point so we could enjoy every morsel.

Boss Man didn't call. We went to bed hoping he'd ring in the morning and the exchange would go smoothly.

 

 

Kolkata: The Post Office and Victoria Monument

Victoria Monument

We woke this morning to another big serving of ripped-up bread, eggs, onion and especially delicious sausages. Top that off with mango juice and we were ready for the day.

Boss Man rang to confirm that, while he claimed to yesterday have a flight booked, he would in fact be sending someone to Kolkata on a train. They were to leave today and arrive tomorrow evening. And, even more promising, was the fact that he didn't even attempt to have us meet him at the railway station.

Our big job for the day was to have about seven kilos worth of stuff posted back to Melbourne as to lessen the load we would be carting around Nepal. Anando asked if we wanted to bring snacks for the journey and we declined thinking, we're just going to post a parcel...how long could it possible take? We had momentarily forgotten which country we were in. We drove to what we expected to be Kolkata's main post office. It was closed for renovations. A guy in the street directed us to another post office nearby. They didn't handle international shipping. Again, we were directed elsewhere. Finally, at 12:45pm, we arrived at a post office that would be able to do the job.

After some discussion with a helpful postal worker, or rather with Anando having some discussion with the postal worker, we decided on the slowest and cheapest option available to us. Unfortunately sea mail no longer exists so our options were limited.

Before we could even consider sending the parcel, the postal worker needed to check the contents. And boy was he thorough! There were certain items which could not be posted. The GoPro camera, thanks to it being an electronic device, did not make the cut. Neither did the eye wash or tea tree oil thanks to their liquid state. My fancy Indian bangles didn't make it either as customs would apparently want to take a look at them to ensure they weren't precious and going to make me a fortune upon resale in Australia. For fifty rupees, they weren't worth the bother and would end up in the bin after a few more glamorous days in Kolkata. We removed any products which may cause stress upon entry into Australia and moved on, a little frustrated, but understanding.

We were then handed a customs declaration form. Fair enough we thought. But then we were informed that we would need to take the form ourselves down the road to have it photocopied four times. Apparently this was the norm although we couldn't help rolling our eyes at the situation. We got the copies made with ease, thanks again to Anando, and filled each out individually. The next step would be packaging.

While those of you playing at home in Australia and New Zealand may consider packaging an item at a post office a straight forward process, we are in India. We were reminded of this fact by the post office failing to sell any kind of packing materials yet requiring each parcel to be wrapped in cloth. Do not fret though! In true India fashion there are makeshift stalls set up out the front selling everything from envelopes to glue (which would make sense later) to chewing tobacco.

We (Anando) asked at the first stall and was quoted 250 rupees to wrap our bag in cloth. Little did we know, this was an exorbitant rate. This made us realise that perhaps the 50 rupees we had paid in Mumbai for wrapping a tiny package was probably a bit off the mark. Anando took the bag and stormed off determined to find a better price and we followed like well trained puppies. We wandered the street, asked at a tailors, and failed to find another option. These stalls out the front of the post office had a monopoly and they knew it. We returned with our tails between our legs and asked at another of the stalls. 150 rupees! That'll do.

We watched as the man pulled and prodded our bag as he hand-sewed a big, white piece of cloth around it. The large size of the bag made the hand sewing a slow process. Anando and I took turns standing in line inside the post office awaiting their opening. Yes, in all the time we had been running around, they had closed for recess. In the meantime Chris supervised the final stages of the sewing and I was pulled from the queue to see what Chris was seeing. I stepped outside to find the man use a lit candle to melt a wax stick, drip it onto each seam of his sewing, and press a stamp into it. A true wax seal. And thank goodness for this faultless security because, in the mix ups, we had failed to remember to ziptie the bag closed.

I wrote Mell's address on the cloth as we talked about how lucky it was she was in Australia rather than here with us in India...the heat! It was probably the hottest we have been in India as we stood in street, sweat running down our legs, awaiting our parcel's completion. Add to that the goats and chickens I had seen strapped onto wooden carts on their way to their death and poor Mell would be fainting all over the place.

Once the address had been written on it was time to deal with the four copies of customs forms we had filled out earlier. They glued one of the forms to the cloth-wrapped bag using that horrid liquid glue that comes in a squeezable tubes that you may recognise from your time in school. The rest were tied to the bag because, apparently, another three copies would be required between Kolkata and Melbourne.

Indian vs Foreigner Tickets

Finally, we took the finished product back into the post office, paid our 3020 rupees and handed over seven kilos of possessions into the hands of India Post.

Having survived the throngs of India Post we rewarded ourselves with a Lebanese chicken shawarma (wrap) complete with wedges and chillies of course. Then it was time for some sightseeing. With Anando as our guide and me as navigator (scary) we parked up and walked, past the Planetarium, to Kolkata's famous Victoria Memorial: a very grand tribute to Queen Victoria. Before we could reach the ticket booth though we were held up in the street by a Bollywood Film Shooting of all things.

Anando purchased our tickets and revelled in the fact that our tickets cost 150 rupees each while his cost 10 rupees. We checked out the gardens, enjoying the foot massage the pebbles were giving us, before heading inside the building itself to view the museum/art gallery. There were some beautiful paintings, the most interesting of which were of places we have visited on our journey such as the Taj Mahal. After enjoying the beautiful interior we headed back out into the gardens to enjoy more of a foot massage, watch the canoodling couples enjoying the romance of the garden and exited on the other side of the compound to where we had entered.

My reaction to the canoodling couples

On our way out we grabbed water and a fizzy apply drink and, despite being purchased by Anando himself, we were still charged tourist prices. It's nice to know that it's not just us. Or maybe it is just us and Anando suffered as a result of being associated with us.

Back in the car we fought the traffic and headed towards home. A 4WD with a big bull bar was doing an illegal u-turn and heading in our direction. Anando honked as per usual and continued on. Unfortunately, so did the 4WD. They clipped the back of us. Intrigued as to what would happen next in a country where, surely, accidents like this happen regularly, Chris and I were on the edge of our seats. And what happened? Nothing. Nobody stopped. Nobody said anything. Both we and the 4WD continued on our way like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Victoria Monument Entrance

We made a pit stop to grab some beers and spotted a poor dog with a large patch on his head that was missing both fur and skin. It was red raw and I was saddened that everybody went about their business around him while he suffered, unable to help himself get better.

We dropped Anando's car off at the secure car park down the the road from his house. The owner opened the gate for us in nothing but his lungi and handed over a small bunch of bougainvillea flowers to Anando to pass on to me. Apparently he had seen me admiring the flowers yesterday and had been thoughtful enough to pick me a bunch in anticipation of our arrival home.

We walked back to Anando's house, me with flowers in hand. The friendly puppies were there to welcome us. I have taken a particular liking to the most nervous of the lot. He ran from me but, as I bent down to his level, he slowly approached. He was crouched down, with his tail between his legs as he grappled with whether to trust me or not. Eventually he got close enough for me to give him a scratch on the head and he calmed down. It's sad to see these animals who are so scared of humans. I couldn't help but think I had doomed this dog by giving him some trust in people as, when he approached a human next time for a pat, they were likely not to be as friendly.

Back home we showered and then sat in Anando's room with beers, corn chips and salsa and tried watching the video of trekking to Everest Base Camp that had come free with our guidebook. It was inspiring to say the least but unfortunately was not of the best quality meaning we could only watch half of it.

Dinner was another feast of rice, dahl, those delicious spiced, boiled eggs, and spicy potatoes in a green sauce. Top that off with mishti (sweets) and we could barely move.

Back upstairs we watched Russell Peters' stand-up comedy and laughed at his complete disregard for political correctness as he offended each and every race of people we could imagine. And then, it was bedtime.

A gift of flowers

 

Kolkata: Indian Chinese

This morning we enjoyed toast, mango jam and spicy chicken seekh kebabs with our coffee and juice before preparing to run yet more errands. Our list of things to purchase seems to somehow be growing the longer we stay in Kolkata and the more research into trekking in Nepal that we do. The weather seems to be heating up more and more every day here. Anando was right, Nepal will be a pleasant change and perfect weather for volunteering.

Boss Man called and, as he does, tried to change his plans. He told us that he would arrive tonight and that we should meet him at the airport to swap the bike for cash. With Anando and Chris motioning in the background that this was a horrible idea, I told Boss Man over and over that this was not going to happen. Despite his efforts, we held our ground and he hung up having to change his plans and get back to us.

We had a lazy day and enjoyed a lunch timed on India time around 3pm. Rice, fried potato and cauliflower, a beetroot, carrot and cauliflower curry, "boneless fish" and yet another ridiculously delicious prawn curry. So good!

After lunch we watched the first few minutes of the free DVD that came with our Everest guidebook. It was enough to inspire Anando and pretty much convince him that he'd accompany us to Nepal.

The afternoon was to consist mostly of errands and, despite not leaving the house until around 4pm, we got a lot done. We stopped off at the tiny, backstreet camping store to check out their supplies. We decided to go all out and buy me a down sleeping bag that would be god for Nepal and that I could even use when we go camping upon our arrival back home in Australia. Yes, we are already planning camping trips. After visiting the ATM we returned to the camping shop to have the owner correct the price he had quoted us for the sleeping bag earlier. He had accidentally over quoted us. What a nice, honest change to the others we have encountered. Anando got himself a warm jacket and we moved on to our next errand.

We were on the hunt for thermal long johns for me to take to Nepal and we arrived at a huge market to see if they could assist us in our search. It was nice to walk through the busy, crowded stalls without getting harassed like we normally would in more touristy areas. But, in saying that, there was the odd "sir, madam, look in my shop" shouted from within. In the depths of the market we found a tiny box of a shop that sold thermals. After asking what size we were after the man disappeared up a ladder and into the seemingly never-ending cave of boxes that were precariously piled within the ceiling. He emerged with a thick, white pair of thermals that would definitely do the job. And, conveniently, he also sold the gift we had been searching for for a particular loved one back home. While the owner organised the gift for us we visited Spencer's, the giant department store, to see what other supplies we cold tick off our list. Soap, socks...really exciting stuff.

Once all of the errands were complete we trekked over to the rooftop dance studio where we had met Peddro the other day. Anando took a samba class while Chris and I, restricted by our flip flops and by no means the extremely complicated steps being taught in the class, sat and watched. My dance partner from the other night was also there and made a whole-hearted attempt to make awkward conversation with us.

Devaleena arrived and we all watched as the class came to a close. The highlight was watching Peddro take the oldest lady in the class aside and return to show off some new moves to the class. She was so happy and it was obvious what a thoughtful, lovely man Peddro was as he went out of his way to ensure others enjoyed themselves.

Once all danced out, Anando led us to Krystal Chopstick where we would have our first encounter with Indian Chinese food. We had delicious pork momos, seafood chowmein, Mongolian fried rice, sweet and sour pork and a very, very sweet Peking lamb. So yummy!

Again we dropped Devaleena home, returned home ourselves, exhausted, and went straight to bed.

 

 

Kolkata: It's All About Big Red

This morning we had our first taste of the Indian breakfast specialty semolina. It was delicious and, with a cold glass of juice, was a lovely start to the morning. Next it was time for yet more errands. We set out on foot to collect our passport photos and get Big Red's document photocopied. Our next job was to head into the city to show Big Red off to the potential buyers we were aquatinted with yesterday. But first, would Big Red want to start today? Had he accepted that our goodbye was inevitable? Yes. He started first go so we loaded up Anando's car with corn chips and salsa then followed him in on the bike.

We gave copies of the paperwork to the potential buyers and were surprised when they didn't want a test drive. They were satisfied with having heard Big Red's purr as we arrived. Little did they know I had my foot on the broken luggage rack as to limit the stupid squeaking noise it now makes as we ride.

After waiting around for a while we were left in suspense as the guys would need to check with the authorities as to how much bribe they would need to pay thanks to Boss Man from Chennai conveniently failing to include the essential NOC form in our pile of paperwork. A ploy to ensure we sold it back to him?

After grabbing some petrol we stopped off at Spencer's (supermarket) to grab some stationary supplies for the school I will volunteer with in Nepal. I was also suckered into buying a sunscreen that came with a free face scrub. Because that's exactly what you want to be carting up a mountain.

Once home we "popped a cerveza" to sip on while Chris battled an online company in an attempt to have a solar powered USB charger shipped to Anando's house. After four or five attempts, numerous phone calls and even more emails back and forth we were successful and could finally cross it off our list. All this back and forth communication though made Anando's mum suspicious...what were we having shipped to her home? A gun? We decided that if it was our Israeli friends that were doing the online shopping she may have had something to worry about.

Throughout this saga we had a late lunch of rice, dahl, fried potatoes and cauliflower as well as some beautiful fish that the Bengalis refer to as being 'boneless.' While far from boneless and hence prompting Anando's Mum to have a good giggle as we struggled to eat it, it was delicious.

After finding out that to bribe the authorities into getting the Tamil Nadu registered bike transferred to West Bengal without the NOC would be pricey we realised we were better off to make a date with the devil and contact Boss Man once again.

After a pep talk from Anando I was ready to do my best Indian businessman impression and bargain like there was no tomorrow. I was definitely not cut out for this kind of experience. It was horribly nerve racking and I was flustered on the inside. On the outside though, I was a steely Indian and soon got into the swing of things. Lying became easy as I told him we were to stay in Kolkata for four months and hence were in no rush to make a sale. Not liking Boss Man or his morals from the get go made the arguing easier. We went back and forth, back and forth. Anando and Chris were especially impressed when I dropped the price to 69000 rupees and then upped it again to 70000 when I didn't like something he said. In the end we settled on 68000 rupees, slightly more than two average camels but slightly less than two prized camels.

Rocking Paisley in the Streets of Kolkata

Chris donned one of his paisley new shirts and we were ready to hit the town in the closest thing to a celebration that we could manage.

We parked the car in the city and hit the streets on foot so Anando could continue his tradition of surprising Devaleena with a rose each Tuesday date night. He entered the gift shop and emerged with two roses...one of Devaleena and one for myself. What a gentleman! I told Chris to take notes.

Xrong Place Breezer, Rose, Candle and Snacks

We met with Devaleena and walked to Xrong Place where we could have a couple of drinks and some complimentary snacks in a very familiar environment...a pub. While Anando and Devaleena played grown ups and drank white wine and while Chris stuck to Carlsberg, I pretended I was an underage drinker and ordered a Bacardi Breezer. As we sat there Boss Man returned our call and confirmed his arrival date for Friday evening as the trains had been booked out until then.

Drinks at Xrong Place

After a couple of rounds we moved on to Marco Polo, where we would have dinner. As we stepped through the heavy door into the air conditioned surrounds the noises of the streets dissolved behind us and was replaced with classical music. It was fancy to say the least. And, much to Chris' delight, they sold steak. And not just any steak but beef steak. Yes...they were serving up holy cow.

Dinner at Marco Polo

I fulfilled the dream I had a few weeks ago and had spaghetti bolognese, despite it being made with lamb rather than holy cow, while everyone else had the steak. And it was delicious. Chris and Anando washed their meals down with a Glenfiddich and a Baileys respectively.

We dropped Devaleena home and were pleased to be driving back to Anando's in uncongested streets thanks to the late hour. Upon arrival home we were greeted by the barking of usually friendly puppies and then went straight to bed, exhausted.

 

Kolkata: Big Red's Battery

When we woke this morning I again wasn't feeling 100%. However, the offer of French toast was too good to refuse. We cooked up a big batch and enjoyed many slices, along with fried pork sausages. When I still wasn't feeling well the boys were kind enough to let me rest while they ran errands.

I took to Anando's room to rest under the fan while they went out to activate a SIM card for Chris. When that went well I was delivered a phone with Internet and again left to rest while they did the hard yards. This time they were in charge of getting Big Red ready for his big day.I came downstairs to find a sparkling Big Red and two sweaty boys gripping two very dirty cloths. They had done a magnificent job and Big Red looked worth at least two camels.

We hung around the house until lunchtime and then sat down to a feast worthy of a king. Battered, fried cauliflower, sweet Bengali dahl, rice, prawn curry and a dish that Anando kindly referred to as being made of 'banana foetus.' Essentially it is made from whatever banana is before it becomes an actual banana. All I know is it is apparently full of fibre so I was told to eat up in attempt to cure my illness. Additionally I was given yet another dose of Ayurvedic, bubbling fruit salts to make me burp but gave the other salty Ayurvedic tablet a miss today.

When 3pm rolled around it was time for Big Red's moment. We were to head into Kolkata city to meet Anando's salsa teacher who would introduce us to a man possibly interested in purchasing the bike. There was one problem...Big Red had cold feet. After overhearing Chris say that he wanted to import him into Australia, Big Red had been on his best behaviour starting first time every time for the past two weeks. Now he knew we were planning on getting rid of him and he was putting his wheels down and refusing to start.

The battery was completely dead and not even a good couple of push starts would help. We ended up having to postpone our appointment in the city and visit a mechanic instead. Poor Chris pushed Big Red while Anando and I led the way in the car. It was horrible looking like all of those people we had seen along our journey who were pushing their bikes after running out of petrol.

It was decided that the battery needed charging but they were unable to do this at the auto shop we were at. So, in the car we all got, and off we went in search of a place that could charge our battery. We found it eventually but it was to take two and a half hours. Soon after we got a call from Anando's teacher to let us know we could come to the city without the bike and just chat to the potential buyers. So, we battled the city traffic, grateful it was siesta time, and most shops were closed.

Through a narrow alleyway, up a few flights of stairs and onto a rooftop we followed Anando wondering how on Earth anybody could ever find a place like this without a personal guide. The salsa teacher, Peddro, was waiting for us and we followed him to meet the potential buyer. Anando did the talking and we decided to bring the bike back later in the evening for them to look at. Little did they knew we were awaiting a battery that would actually work.

While we were in the city we took the opportunity to visit a backstreet camping store that sold cheap backpacks. After realising how much my bag was not made for hiking I was to inherit Chris' bag and he was to get a new one. 2250 rupees got us a nice big bag with lots of straps, which pleased Chris no end.

By this time the midday siesta was over and traffic was congested to say the least. We were stopped at almost every traffic light as we fought our way back South, towards home. It is surprisingly less stressful being inside a car rather than on the bike when battling the traffic though. Even the honking is a little muffled. A little.

We picked up our fully charged battery and returned to Big Red's original mechanic who reinstalled it for us. While the bike started with the kick start the electric start was still a no go. Apparently the battery was kaput so now the decision needed to be made...do we invest in a new battery in an attempt to get a better price when selling Big Red, or do we cut our losses and just sell it as is.

In a final attempt to get enough charge into the battery Chris went for a ride through the streets while Anando and I returned home to wait and worry for his safety. Unfortunately the ride did little good and the battery was still not giving off enough charge.

The decision was made to get a new battery as to ensure we receive the best possible price from Big Red's new owner. Chris, with Anando holding on for dear life on the back of the bike, set off for the battery shop while I stayed home to man the fort. They returned triumphant with a Big Red that now was back to his old self. What a relief! It was time to call Boss Man and see what he had to say for himself. He made an original offer of 60000, I made an offer of 80000 and we left it at that.

For dinner we had the best dahl fry of our trip along with yummy leftover chicken and chapatti. How can food be so darn delicious?

 

Kolkata: Salsa and Dancing and Sangria

Anando and Devaleena

We woke in the morning to yet more delicious food. This time a big fry up of bread pieces, onion, sausage and eggs all washed down with yet more kopi luak and a big glass of orange juice. As it was Sunday, not too many shops would be open so our errands were put on hold for the most part. We did go down the road to get some new passport photos taken and were amused by the narrow staircase that led to a photo studio with huge lights ready to make us look Nepal worthy.

We had lunch at home and it was amazing despite me feeling slightly unwell. We had chicken do-pyaza served with a sweet pulao with dried fruit, cinnamon, cardamo and cashews.

Afterwards, we drove into the city and parked up at the shopping mall where we would meet Devaleena, Anando's girlfriend. To park though we did had to get the boot of the car searched for explosives and then have ourselves checked before we could enter the mall. We had a bit of time to kill before dancing and took advantage of it by getting a guide book for Nepal which gave in depth day-to-day explanations of the trek. This book would prove very handy for Chris within the next couple of hours.

We went next door to the International School where Anando and Devaleena attend weekly salsa dancing classes. Encouraged by the mix of people's ages (both kids and adults) we joined in. Not that we had much choice...the teachers were very persuasive. Chris got about half way through the shimmy shoulder warm up before deciding salsa wasn't for him. I, on the other hand, stood with the children and beginners and started my first ever salsa class. Before long I was plucked from the beginner group and thrust into the hands of a guy who would be my dance parter for the evening.

I was spun more times than I could count and couldn't believe that Devaleena was impressively dancing in heels. I followed the lead of the teacher, Anando and my dance partner who had the horrible habit of trying to talk to me while I was concentrating on not falling over. Didn't he realise that I couldn't dance and talk simultaneously, let alone answer questions about whether a 'flapjack' was an Australian animal? Chris entertained himself with the guidebook as he resisted the urge to join us on the dance floor.

Dinner and Drinks at Zara

We danced until we were all sweating profusely. When class ended Anando took the opportunity to talk to the dance teacher about selling our bike. He had a few ideas which sounded promising and we planned to meet with him tomorrow to work out more.

Next stop was the shopping mall again. Chris found Levi jeans for $40 (so cheap!) but they didn't have his size. We were impressed that they could alter them there and then for us but ended up visiting Spencer's (which sells everything!) to buy a cheap, stretchy pair instead. We figured that Nepal will be rough on our clothes. Giving up on buying foam earplugs after trying a number of shops, we went to Zara, a Spanish restaurant, and settled in for drinks and food. We ordered a pitcher of a fruity cocktail and followed it up with another pitcher, this time of white wine sangria. We ordered tapas too: fried calamari and a chorizo/calamari dish. While we did have plans to relocate next door for a big serve of meat, our booth was awfully comfortable and instead we stayed at Zara for dinner. Fish and chips, pasta, chilli con carne (sort of) and more fish.

After stuffing ourselves silly we dropped Devaleena home before heading home ourselves.

 

Bodh Gaya to Kolkata

We were up at 6am this morning, and out the door not long after, knowing we had a huge final day of riding ahead of us.

Bodh Gaya was surprisingly busy considering it was so early but we got out with little fuss and rode the 22km back to the National Highway. For the record, this 22km of road is much easier to ride in daylight than at night when being blinded by the high beams of oncoming trucks and buses.

The National Highway was a smooth, uncluttered road for the most part and enabled us to ride 200km before breakfast. We stopped roadside to try and get some snacks but were refused the ones we wanted for a reason that remains unknown to us. We continued on another 50km or so before trying again, this time succeeding, and walking away with two samosas and two bajis for 20 rupees. Further down the road we found a place in the shade to sit, eat and strip off a layer of clothing as the sun was well and truly warming up. We rode hard all the way to the outskirts of Kolkata stopping only briefly twice or three times to rest our butts and backs momentarily. We knew getting through Kolkata city would be time consuming and were determined to get as much distance between us and Bodh Gaya as possible before our progress was slowed.

We were pleasantly surprised by the roads that led us on a route that skirted India's second largest city. The quality of the roads was close to the best we have seen and made a nice finale to our grand adventure. I navigated and took us through the first toll we have been required to pay. Good thing that we waited for another motorbike to go ahead of us and saw that he paid the toll otherwise we were about to ride right though as we have every other time on this journey. We paid the five rupees and continued on in the traffic which was reminiscent of Melbourne's CBD: congested and slow but bearable. We crossed tram tracks which made us feel right at home and hit only a few congested areas. We had entered Kolkata on Saturday afternoon and people weren't in as big a hurry as usual. We took note when everybody stopped at the red traffic lights and actually waited for the light to turn green before continuing. There even seemed to be less rubbish around than usual. And, there were footpaths! Actual paved footpaths! Kolkata was making a grand first impression.

There were a couple of moments that reminded us just where we were (India) but, for the most part, the ride into the city was much less stressful than anticipated. We stopped at Haravinda School, a landmarks we knew was close to Anando's house, and crossed our fingers that our old Tamil Nadu SIM cards might work for long enough so we could find out where to go next. It all went smoothly, we were directed to ride down a laneway and, as we rode down, we spotted a beaming Anando. He guided us to his home and introduced us to his lovely parents who were kind enough to be letting us stay with them.

The afternoon was to be a relaxing one which suited us very well. As we had arrived earlier than anticipated we were lucky enough to enjoy a delicious lunch, the first of many meals that we would eat around Anando's dining table. We soon realised that there would be a seemingly endless supply of food in this home and we would be fed mountains of the culinary delights for each meal. Spooned onto our plates by Anando's generous mum the food was refilled as soon as the stocks were looking low. I even got to enjoy some of the prized kopi luac coffee bought all the way from South East Asia.

When it came to the evening, I think Anando read Chris' mind too as he had a plan for takeout pizza, beers and sitting in front of the TV...something we had not done in a long time. We stuffed ourselves full of meaty Dominos pizza and cans of Scottish beer. It was a lovely evening of reminiscing and catching up and we were so, so pleased to be closing out our trip in such good company.

 

Bodh Gaya

The night had been quiet thanks to the cyclonic fan blocking any noise out so we woke rested and ready to spend the day sightseeing in Bodh Gaya. When we went downstairs, the two managers of the hotel told us that they had people coming to look at Big Red. Excited we left the key with them while we went to have breakfast in case anybody wanted to go for a test drive.

We found Om Restaurant where I had an average banana chocolate pancake that left a sugary coating in my mouth. We waited and waited for Chris' fruit and muesli and, when we saw a guy walk in carrying a bag of fruit he'd just bought, the hold up was clear. At least it'd be fresh we thought.

After breakfast we returned to our hotel to find Big Red gone. Out for a test drive we thought. How promising! A quick chat with a guy in the lobby though made it obvious that the manager had infact just taken Big Red for a joy ride. He had gone to the temple to pray and had taken Big Red because it would "make him look good." He would apparently be over an hour.

We were not ok with this and spent the next hour stewing. How could any idiot possibly think that this was ok? Again, people seem to have no concept of respecting other people's possessions. Despite having been in India almost two months we still made the mistake of trusting one of them. How very wrong we were to think this guy would be any different to the others we have encountered who are truly out to suit themselves with no thought for anybody else.

Eventually the manager turned up, quite apologetic, as his friend must have warned him that we were not pleased. We took the key and awaited an offer on the bike. The offer came and the offer was refused. 50000 rupees? That's not even two camels!

We thought we better go and embrace the day but first, a quick stop at the Root Institute for Wisdom Culture. Unfortunately there was a retreat happening so the daily yoga class wasn't happening. We dropped Big Red home and set out on foot. We had apparently picked the wrong time of day though as all of the monasteries were closed for lunch, or a nap, or something. We took some photos through the gated entrances and then finished the sight seeing with a stop at Mahabodhi Temple, the most famous of the lot. Buddha attained enlightenment and formulated his philosophy for life here. It was free entry so all we had to pay was 20 rupees to get the camera in. We chatted cricket with the guy taking our money and thought, what a nice man! Until Chris saw him take 100 rupees from our change before handing it to us. Luckily we were on the ball and he rectified the situation with little fuss. We left our shoes, unwillingly considering the amount of people spitting we had seen, and continued into the temple complex.

We took in views of the Bodhi Tree under which Buddha's enlightenment had occurred and it was quite cool to read that the tree that now stands is actual a descendant of the original, grown from a sapling that was kept in Anuradhapura (which we visited in Sri Lanka).

Pretty over the beggars and the beeping we went back to Buddha Road in search of lunch. We had been hoping for a relaxing day of sightseeing but instead were as stressed as ever. I think knowing that it's all nearly over has something to do with it. We ordered two lassis and a pizza but were soon informed that the power was out. Enough was enough. We left despite them arguing that the lassis were already on their way.

We grabbed a takeaway lunch from last night's dinner spot and enjoyed it in the quiet of our room. A yummy veg korma and a few chapattis. The rest of the afternoon was spent battling the hotel staff with regards to a serious lack of wifi, hot water and electricity.

We found a quiet place to have dinner and, although they didn't have the Thai food they advertised or many other items from their menu, we did have a yummy meal. Veg jalfrezi, veg biriyani and chapati as well as a spring roll.

When we got back to our hotel we were ready to do battle. Earlier in the afternoon the manager had agreed that we pay only 700 rupees for tonight's accommodation. We were on a mission to pay only an extra 400 for tonight to make it a total of 1400 for the two nights. Considering we had no hot water at all yesterday and very little today, as well as the wifi annoyance, we figured this was fair. After a huge heated discussion, much of which was Chris and I venting our frustrations that had been built up over the past six weeks, we agreed to pay 1500 for the two nights. We gave in and went to upstairs to get an early night before our huge, and final, day of riding tomorrow.