Ratlam to Udaipur via Chittorgarh Fort

Sleepy breakfast

We woke this morning after yet another horrendous sleep and prepared a makeshift breakfast. We opened up our plastic bags full of leftovers and, with plastic bags as plates, enjoyed a yummy curry breakfast. Thanks for the plastic spoons Mum and Pete...they have come in handy.

Traffic jam

Wedding? Or just an excuse to make noise?

We loaded up Big Red and attempted our escape from Ratlam. We turned down a road, as directed by our map, only for it to end very quickly. We were about to do a u-turn when some local guy yelled out at us from his food cart. He pointed down some side road and indicated that we should be able to get across the blocked off construction site and continue on our way. So we did. Across some grass, over a road being constructed, down a gravel hill and somehow back onto the correct road. A good start to the day.

We were happy when we reached the highway and it was just as smooth as we had remembered from yesterday. We rode most of the way to Chittorgarh without little problem. Traffic was stopped at one point thanks to about fifty cows being herded down the highway but apart from that it was smooth sailing. Oh, and thousands of people walking down the road and another few hundred celebrating a wedding, on the road. We crossed into Rajasthan though and the road took a turn for the worse. The pot holes returned with a vengeance and trucks choked what had suddenly become a narrow two lane road. We passed one especially long truck which had come too close to the bank, tumbled down the metre drop and lay on its side next to the road. It's hard to believe that the drivers can come out of accidents like this ok when none of them wear seat belts.

Lauren (aka Rapunzel) playing princess

Chris playing prince

We rode into Chittorgarh and climbed the hill up to the fort that we had seen as we rode into town. The road followed the big, old, stone walls and took us through the huge old gates up in to little village which sits within the fort walks. As we went to start the loop of the fort a group of guys saw us coming and started to yell and point towards a ticket office. Noticing that no locals wore stopping to buy a ticket and knowing that the officials would be far too lazy to chase us, we road straight past. Within the fort are many buildings and ruins and we told ourselves that the ticket they wanted us to buy was probably only for the building it was next to.

Lauren playing princess again

The most romantic spot in Chittorgarh

As we rode we started to notice old ruins and temples popping up all over the place so we pulled Big Red over, locked up our luggage and started to explore. We were going to stay overnight in Chittorgarh but after seeing what was around, decided to just make a day of it.

We jumped on and off the bike, exploring the huge fort area on a combination of foot and motorbike and it proved very effective. Because we were happy to go traipsing across dried up rivers and the like, we found ourselves exploring places that weren't on the usual map. We soon found ourselves on a little balcony overlooking a beautiful body of water with a big old palace on the other side. And, best of all, there was absolutely nobody else around. Sitting up on a platform which jutted out from this ancient structure, it was easy to imagine that we were prince and princess overlooking our grounds.

Taking his camel for a walk

Friends

We spent quite a while stopping and starting, climbing up and under and around beautiful old buildings with only pigs, camels and cows for company. The views out over the fort walls were stunning and it was easy to see why Chittorgarh had been the perfect location for a fort.

As we went to climb aboard Big Red for the last time a nosy cow came to say hello. She was a sneaky little thing, snotting on Chris' bag when nobody was looking.

Chittorgarh Fort Walls

View from our guesthouse, Udaipur

The first hotel we asked at didn't have the right forms to take tourists (strange, yes) but was very friendly and pointed us in the right direction. When we rode into touristy lakeside Udaipur the problem wasn't finding accommodation, it was choosing some. There were guesthouses and hotels everywhere. After some more riding we found a place that we liked for only 900 INR but they only had one night available so we went in search once again finally settling on ........... The sister hotel, Lake Shore, was full so we got led to ......, located well and truly in the depths of local Udaipur. We were happy though, being off the beaten track (as much as possible in somewhere so touristy) meant we essentially had a room on the rooftop and, just outside, chairs and a mezzanine with a day bed that had views of the lake and Lake Palace.

We went back to the rooftop restaurant of Lake Shore for dinner and enjoyed a beer and a gin and tonic which, after coming from a dry state, was long awaited. We had a pretty tasty Indian meal before Octopussy came onto the TV at 7:30pm sharp. Because part of the film was made in Udaipur they play it every single night at many of the guesthouses. While others settled in for the viewing, exhausted, we headed home to bed

Lake Pichola, Udaipur

 

Maheshwar to Ratlam

Today we came close to throwing in the towel, loading Big Red onto a train and high tailing it to Calcutta then on to Nepal.
We started the day well with a masala dosa and a chai from our regular restaurant. We chatted with the owner and were sad to be leaving the man whose name translates to "sunlight." What a guy! He even throws his rubbish in the bin rather than into the street.
We headed off and, after missing our turn off, decided to take State Highway One. When we turned onto it we noticed that it did not, in the slightest, resemble any kind of highway we had ever seen. It was narrow and falling to pieces leaving only tiny sections of tar between piles of gravel and pot holes. We figured it would improve and continued on. Every side road we saw was a tempting strip of perfectly formed tarmac. Not our SH1 though. It quickly turned into what looked like a 4WD track and we, like many before us, took to riding on the dirt beside the road where it was smoother.
Ahead of us, blocking us from our destination, was a very large hill. As we approached we assumed that, like yesterday, the road would be cemented for the windy uphill climb. We dodged a car just before the hill and managed to hit the right hand luggage rack on a very large rock. A very nice rattle resulted. We pulled over briefly, saw no major damage, and continued on. The road did not improve. In fact, if anything, it got, worse. Every corner was a mess of thick gravel with shards of rock just large enough to make Big Red slip and slide all over the place.
On our descent of the hill the noise was still there so we stopped again. This time we found a broken weld on the luggage rack. Happy that it wasn't anything major we continued down the slippery gravel hill and found ourselves excitedly pointing out greenery! It's funny how the little things excite us. First water, now greenery.
Eventually the road did flatten out and led us into the very strange town of Mhow. First we passed an army training ground, then an army college, then an army school. We soon became aware that this town was entirely dedicated to the military and very proud of it. The neatly manicured lawns and gardens stood out as grass of any kind is a rare sight over here. We figured that this is where India's money is. Men in camo rode bikes around town and armed checkpoints. Some roads were forbidden and the maze of streets made not accidentally going down them difficult. The Indian army has a very different army advertising campaign to that we have seen elsewhere. In Australia for instance, its all about life experience and gaining qualifications. Over here, its all about the explosions. Signs read "going into battle" and claim that joining the army will allow you to live out your video game in real life. Interesting.
When we finally found our way out of Mhow a big purple bus started causing problems. It came up beside us, beeping, driving erratically with people hanging off it and tried its very hardest to push us, like everybody else, off the road. We beeped right back. With the bus stopping often to let passengers off we had repeat encounters with it, each time making Chris more and more mad. Eventually it all came to a head when Chris took to banging the window of the driver as we went past. This would prove to be just the beginning of a string of frustrating drivers. Is it possible that the road users are becoming more stupid as we move North?
As we approached Indore the traffic increased substantially along with Chris' rage. Every time a driver pulled out on the phone without looking into oncoming traffic. Every time not one but fifty people ran a red light. Every time someone went the wrong way down the road or the wrong way around a round about or stopped in the middle of the road or slowed down to have a chat in the middle of the road.
Chris lashed out like I have never seen before. Kicking bikes, giving the finger, swearing at people and generally showing disdain for the entire population of India.
To make matters worse all the barriers between the lanes of traffic meant we couldn't turn anywhere that we wanted to turn so I, as navigator, got us lost which meant even more time spent battling the idiots of Indore. When we pulled up close to our lunch destination I had a broken Chris on my hands. We wanted out. But, knowing that we had empty bellies, were dirty and hot, we decided that we should lunch before boarding the train, plane or any other form of transport that would get us the hell out of India.
Once we sat down in the air conditioning of Shreemaya Celebrations, had a map in front of us, had washed our hands and had food on the way things began to slowly change. Realising tha Big Red needed to be sold before we could make any kind of quick get away, and knowing that we would best do that from Calcutta we figured we should check the map. Chris' trusty phone informed us that riding to Calcutta would take one day and one minute. But we did want to stop in Agra. And Varanassi. And we always took longer than what the phone said. So, when we realised it was going to take us ages to ride to Calcutta anyway, we figured we may as well do Rajasthan too. I mean, we're here and, in the state of mind we're in at the moment, there's a good chance we'll never come back.
We enjoyed a long awaited Western meal of pizza and chips before feeling refreshed enough to go back into battle. We caught a few glimpses of the Australia vs Inda test that was being held in Chennai on the TV and knowing we had been right across the road from the stadium when we bought Big Red all that time ago was quite cool. As Chris reattached out bags to the bike he noticed yet another crack in the luggage rack we had fitted in Chennai. Must have been really good quality.
We gave the Indian Coffee House we had planned to visit a miss figuring our sanity was more valuable and to keep that we needed to get out of Indore, fast. After some more poor directions from the navigator we finally got on the road which would lead us out of hell and on to Ratlam. The road though quickly began to resemble our old friend State Highway 1 from this morning. It was essentially another 40km of potholes. Except this time we had other road users to battle also. Trucks, school buses and your other mish mash of Indian road users made manoeuvring around the potholes near impossible. The fact that the road was essentially one giant pot hole made it even more difficult. Some of the holes were so deep they had been blocked off with rocks so people wouldn't go in and not be able to get out. Chris saw a van drop into one and really struggle to make it back out.
Every time we hit the asphalt we sighed with relief and every time we were hit by more pot holes after a kilometre or so. And these aren't just regular potholes. They're often a metre wide and there are so many of them that the remaining road is only a few inches wide in most places making manoeuvring around the holes impossible.
We stopped to grab some water and realised it was 4pm already and we still had 95km to go. If the road didn't improve there was a big possibility we wouldn't make it to our destination by sunset and we sure as heck did not want to be on these roads at night. Thankfully the road did eventually become normal and spread into a smooth, four-lane highway. Despite the occasional car coming down the wrong side of the barricade and despite herds of goats/sheep (we can't work out what these creatures were) being herded by their turbaned shepherds down the highway it was a pretty good run the rest of the way to Ratlam.
As we approach the town we found ourselves pointing out even more things that would normally be considered mundane. First water, then greenery now clouds! There was even enough cloud around for the sun to hide for a few minutes casting lovely rays of light across the sky.
As we rode into town we found a hotel among the mechanics with rooms for 600 rupees a night. We did venture into town to have a look at the hotel we'd found online but after seeing the hoards of locals milling about in the lobby we decided to give it a miss and went back to our first choice...Palash Hotel.
We checked in and Chris went to check on Big Red. He'd had a rough day and we were worried we may have cracked his frame. Chris returned with good news. No cracks, apart from those on the luggage rack that we already knew about, and he had even found a friendly mechanic to tighten the exhaust bolt. This was no easy feat either. The poor mechanic didn't have the right tool but was nice enough to borrow one from his mate and fix Big Red right up. Once showered we went to the hotel restaurant for a surprisingly delicious dinner. Veg biriyani, veg tikka masala, amazing spring rolls and Kashmiri naans. We even had enough leftovers to package up and bring upstairs for brekky tomorrow.

Mandu: A Day Trip

Lost: somewhere between Maheshwar and Mandu

I'd like to say that I woke up this morning and was feeling so wonderful that I wanted to get out and embrace India. In reality, I woke up feeling average but decided I wanted to get out and see Mandu so we could push North, get Rajasthan done, and get to Nepal. We'd had another average sleep on another rock hard pillow being woken by more ridiculous noises after fighting suicidal idiots on the road a few days ago so I was having one of those mornings.

Of course though, India did what India does best. We were shown just a little bit of her beauty...just enough to make us sure we had made the right decision in staying.

We packed up a day bag and climbed aboard Big Red ready for an easy 45km to Mandu. We should really know better than assuming any ride will be easy by now. After passing men roughly pushing, pulling and hitting cows as they loaded them onto trucks we took the highway for a while before taking what we thought was the correct left-hand turn towards Mandu. When the villagers all stopped and stared at us like they had never seen white folk before, we began to question our navigational skills but kept going. When the road stopped it was time to check our phone map. Thank goodness for technology...again! While not on the right road, at all, we decided we could take some of the dirt paths that surrounded us and weave our way in the general direction of Mandu. As we did, our landscape changed to a lunar landscape of rocks, dust and a whole lot of nothing else.

After stopping for a few photos we followed a lady and her cows down yet another dirt path and made it back to the correct road. Wooo! Soon enough we were on the road that would take us straight into Mandu. And as soon as we turned onto said road, it became less like a road and more like a construction site.

Most roads we have seen being made in India have been hand made. Each bowl of dirt is carried away on someone's head. Even the gravel is hand made. We saw first hand people chipping away at stone to make the tiny shards.

Camels outside Songarh Fort

Just as we made off the slippery gravel road and the concrete began the winding started. Up the hill we went. As we rode, snaking our way up through the valley, we spotted people walking up the hill. No, they were not following the road, but rather were walking straight up. Not only that, they were carrying big bags on their heads as they did. We wondered where they were all going. Later we passed eight or so camels, all loaded up, being led by women in some of the most crazily beautiful attire yet. The excessive jewellery and bright colours shouted gypsy and Rajasthan all at once. The camels were more regal looking than I remember the ones at Pottsville markets being. These huge creatures held their heads high, looking through their crazy long eyelashes and down at those below them. It's amazing to think that with any luck we'll be riding one of those through the desert before too long.

Views from Songarh Fort

Songarh Fort Gate

Thankfully there was little traffic to battle and the views were stunning. As we came to the top of the hill we spotted a big stone wall and decided we would like to explore it further. As we came around the corner and looked for a place to pull over we realised we would not need to park roadside and clamber up the rocks after all. We had stumbled upon Songarh Fort and it had a sign saying so and everything! We parked up and went through the still standing gate to get exploring. The only other people there were farmers working the land within the fort walls. We wandered around the outside and even found our way into the fort's interior. We climbed the walls and walked along the top of them taking in the outstanding views of the valley below being careful not to be blown off by the strong winds that swept through the ravine.

Songarh Fort Walls

From Songarh Fort it wasn't far into Mandu and there was only one thing standing in our way...a young guy and the rope he had stretched across the road as a 'toll gate.' We stopped and he requested 5 rupees. This seemed a little strange as not even on National Highways had we needed to pay tolls. As he awaited our compliance he lowered the rope so two other motorbikes could pass through. When we questioned this phenomena he simply replied "local." And that was the straw that broke the camel's (Chris') back. After being charged up to 25 times more than locals at every tourist site and knowing full well that it was the locals leaving their rubbish around and generally making a mess of said sites, we'd had just about enough. Chris threw Big Red into gear and powered off, over the rope, leaving the baffled guy in his dust.

Darya Khan Monuments

Darya Khan Tomb

As we rode towards Mandu we noticed some ruins off to our left. We sunscreened up and headed into an enclosure ready to explore, well, whatever it was we had found. Some later googling revealed we had been looking at the Darya Khan Monuments, including his tomb. At the time though we thought we had stumbled into the Royal Enclave we had read about in the Lonely Planet and thought we'd somehow wrangled a freebie. Wrong. This is India. They don't mess about when it comes to missing out on money. The tomb was within a beautiful dome structure and, as we were the only ones there, we spent some time checking it, and the surrounding ruins, out. There was a large tank, Somvati Kund, which would have been a very appealing swimming hole if the water wasn't bright green. We were surprised and amazed by how clean and well preserved this monument was. Not a piece of rubbish in the whole place!

Darya Khan Monuments

As we rode further into town we came across Malik Mughith's Mosque and surrounding ruins so we gave them a good explore too.

As we ventured further down the road we quickly became aware that Mandu doesn't really have much of a town as such. It's really just a bunch of ruins dotted across the place with houses that, instead of being built of stone, are now built from sticks and mud. We kept riding and stumbled upon the Rewa Kund Group of ruins but, deciding we'd seen enough decaying stone for one day and not wanting to pay the 100 rupees, we turned back. Chris very much wanted to explain to the gate keeper that we were choosing not to enter because foreigners had to pay 20 times more than locals but I convinced him not to bother.

Tarapur Darwaza

Chris atop Tarapur Darwaza

As we rode back through town we took a left turn in an attempt to find Lohani Caves. Instead we found a rocky road that took us through another tiny village. Just when we were about to give up on the road Chris spotted some stone work in the distance. Our perseverance was rewarded when we arrived at a giant old stone gateway, Tarapur Darwaza, with spectacular views of the valley through which we had arrived this morning. We enjoyed some snacks while being watched by two young girls resting in the shade of the gate. As we explored the structure (and for Chris this meant climbing to the top of it just like the goats we are) more and more people arrived. Kids mostly. Then they started emerging from the steep drop that led to the valley. Carrying huge bundles of sticks on their heads, children and women clambered up what must have been an old trade route which led straight up the hill and right through the big old gate as we watched. And they weren't even puffed!

We followed the rocky road back through the village then took a hard left and hoped for the best. I was hoping we would somehow avoid the darn toll boy.

Our random road led us to the main road more efficiently than anticipated and we found ourselves quickly approaching our old friend, the 'toll gate' master. He saw us coming and this time had backup in the form of some other young dudes. But they barely had time to think before Chris veered off the road, over some rocks, around the 'toll gate' rope and back onto the road all while I whispered "oh my God" repeatedly from the back of the bike. We were sticking it to the man the only way we knew how.

When we returned to our guesthouse we were stopped at reception to sign yet some more forms. Because we were staying two days longer than anticipated we needed to fill in more. Chris had last night refused to copy the information out again so today they were prepared. They had filled the forms out so all we had to do was sign them. Done. They then strangely requested copies of our passports. When we told them they had already taken copies of our passports they were quick to show us that the copies they took were too dark and they needed to get our passports again and redo them. Why they hadn't done it the moment the photocopies had come out too dark again is beyond us. Efficiency is not a word used often here.

On a similar note, today we saw a stone wall being built. To transport the stones from the pile to the wall, women were slowly carrying one stone at a time on their heads. Really? Make a wheelbarrow! Or a cart! Or something!

Temple, Maheshwar Fort

We figured that after three days in Maheshwar we should probably go and check out the fort for which it is famous and from which we are staying across the road. First things first though. We stripped down to shorts and thongs, visited the ATM, got some Indian sweets and visited Chris' samosa man (who today was wearing a blue tight t-shirt). We went through the fort and found a Shiva temple within. A perfect place to enjoy a samosa or two. With views of a Shiva lingam in one direction and views of Narmada River, framed by carved stone detailing, in the other our samosas were extra enjoyable.

We wandered back through the fort and back to our guesthouse to rest up after a very pleasant day indeed.

When dinner time rolled around it was back to our favourite man at our favourite 'restaurant.' Two thalis please! Off the owner went on his motorbike to fetch the thalis that, like last time, were prepared off site. He returned with a big plastic bag full of smaller plastic bags, all filled with delicious vegetarian bits and pieces.

Served onto two big silver compartmentalised platters and a range of plastic bowls were chapati, spiced potatoes, rice, red onion, chillies, dhal and two other unspecified curries (one of which tasted somewhat like sweet yoghurt).

When I couldn't get through all of mine Chris came to the rescue, doing his best to gain all of the weight he has lost back, in one sitting.

We wandered almost to the ghat on the way home before Chris decided he'd grab his tripod and return later in an attempt to capture the stars. When 8pm arrived he headed out to do just that. After having a funny feeling in my belly all day, and not knowing if it was just my illness or some kind of horrible gut instinct, I was pleased when he returned after only 10 minutes. No stars out. Not meant to be I guess.

Tarapur Darwaza

 

Sick Day: Maheshwar

When we were woken this morning by India's constant hum of beeping, shouting and music I was still not feeling well. Chris convinced me that a sick day would be good so in bed we stayed. After some googling we decided on bananas and water to try and control my belly as finding an English speaking chemist in tiny Maheshwar was in the too hard basket for today.

So out to the streets we went. First up was getting the right oil for my dry, fragile hair. Some googling last night had informed me that because the gooseberry oil I had purchased last night was cut with mineral oil it was no good. It was coconut oil I apparently needed. Back at the store where we had purchased hair oil last night we got our hands on some good old edible coconut oil and two litres of water. There were also many carts selling all kinds of fruit lining the streets so we took advantage and got a big bunch of grapes and some bananas. The fruit only cost us 30 rupees too which is a bargain for fruit by both Indian and Aussie standards.

Camel pack + bananas = makeshift cure

When we got back to our guest house I struggled to get up the stairs. With no food in my belly my energy was at an all time low. Chris filled my camel pack with water so I didn't have to get up to drink and force fed me bananas (on Google's advice) that I realllllllllllllly didn't want.

We used the time locked up in our guesthouse to plan the next few days and to discuss why India pollutes its waterways so freely.

Chris headed back out into the intensive heat of the day on a hunt for Western food. In a town where even finding restaurants which serve Indian food is difficult, his task was great. He returned victorious though with two packets of chips in hand.

We spent the afternoon lazing around while coconut oil penetrated my locks. Fingers crossed this Indian method worked magically.

Restaurant, Indian style

By 5pm I was feeling well enough to hit the streets and get some dinner. Again we struggled to find anywhere serving food that wasn't that weird breakfast from yesterday that now made me feel nauseous every time I smelt it. We ended up at the same establishment as last night and, because there is no menu, ordered a fried rice and hoped for the best. The restaurant owner told us to sit down and wait for 10 minutes. He then decided we should wait for 10-15 minutes. For what we were not sure but by the time he left us and his daughter and TV blaring, he'd upped our wait time to 20 minutes. We watched a mouse run back and forth as we waited and waited. We figured he'd gone to grab supplies to cook our dinner. Nope. He returned over half an hour later with another daughter. It only took him about a minute from returning though to get our plates of food to us. While it wasn't quite rice, and it wasn't couscous and it may have been a similar miscellaneous carbohydrate to what was in breakfast yesterday it was delicious enough.

On the walk home we saw a few piles of drying chillies and realised why, when our chef specified he would not put chilli in our meals, it was still spicy. India. Chillis, dried chillies, chilli powder, chilli salt. There is even chilli on the cut fruit you buy in the street.

Upon returning home, with the help of my darling boyfriend, I lent over a bucket and washed the coconut oil from my hair using cold water and again damned the lack of a 24 hour supply.

Drying chillies

 

Omkareshwar: A Day Trip

I woke feeling slightly more human this morning so, despite still having a funny tummy, we went in search of breakfast. Breakfast came in probably its most interesting form yet. Some kind of spiced smushed rice (or other unknown carbohydrate) with coriander, sprinkled with dry crispy noodles and red onion all served on a piece of newspaper (to be used as a bowl) while we stood in the street. Served from the giant roadside wok with the man's bare hands and eaten with a spoon that god knows how many people have eaten with...and I wonder why I get sick.
Once we got Big Red back down the ramp this morning we realised he was out of petrol. We switched his fuel tank to reserve and set off towards Omkareshwar with our fingers crossed. Thankfully we found a petrol station before he conked out. When we asked the man to fill the tank we expected just that. We hadn't expected that, in an attempt to get the meter to reach 900 rupees, he would fill the tank until it overflowed all over the bike and then keep going. We were charged the 900, despite the meter never reaching that amount and despite and the last 50 worth or so going all over Big Red, and Chris.
We cleaned up and continued but it wasn't long before breakfast wanted out of my sensitive digestive system. It is extremely hard to find a spot to 'do your business' roadside in India. With our previous research informing us of there being 383 people per square kilometre, it is little wonder. Finally we found the perfect bush and, thankfully, I had remembered the toilet paper. There's no time for being classy in India.

Namanda River, Omkareshwar

On a similar note, I mentioned to Chris yesterday, as we walked down the road in matching fleece jumpers and hiking boots (thankfully the zip-off pants had been left at home for that outing), that we certainly were not the kind of people who managed to pull off 'cool' while travelling. Chris quickly explained that in a 30 litre backpack, when you're away for six months, there is no room for cool. I guess that works for class too.
We rode into bustling Omkareshwar down a narrow road lined with markets selling all things Hindu and, more specifically, all things Shiva. We parked up, I made a puppy friend, and we headed off over the old bridge to the spiritual island of Godarpura which sits in the middle of a river. Yes, river. Finally! Water. And this water was, for the most part, clean and flowing strongly downstream.

Kumkum sales

The path leading from the bridge to Shri Omkar Mandhata temple was alive with markets specialising in souvenir linga and kumkum (the coloured powder that gets dotted on people's foreheads). We checked out the bathing ghats before deciding to escape the hustle and bustle and explore the island on foot. The path followed the river West and basically took us on a complete loop of the island.

Godarpura Island

Lauren and Shiva

Stairs meant that cars were nonexistent over this side of the island and a lack of tourists meant a lack of touts. It was peaceful and calm and, despite climbing up and down hills in the heat, it was a lovely walk. I was even lucky enough to have a kid tell me he loved me. The fact that he spoke no other English is irrelevant. Eventually our loop bought us back to the touristy side of the island and we wandered past a giant statue of Shiva before exploring Siddhanatha Temple and its intricately carved but crumbling walls.

Chris at Siddhanatha Temple

Bathing ghat, Omkareshwar

Eventually we found the 287 steps which lead back down to the ghat and back to normality. The path somehow led us into the famous Sri Omkar Mandhata temple without our realising it. We were asked to remove our shoes but once everybody realised that we were just trying to find our way out, they let us slip through a narrow opening, down some stairs, under a few railings and back to the bustling market with shoes on. It is quickly becoming apparent why no locals wear closed in shoes...too hard to take on and off.
The amount of pilgrims on the island had escalated since our walk began so we took that as our cue to leave. We crossed back across the old bridge past beggars, dreadlocked holy men, stuffed tigers, photo salesmen, cows, goats, dogs and donkeys and found Big Red where we left him.
On the ride home we were determined to find a vegetarian lunch that I might be able to stomach so when we came across a large establishment that advertised 'pure veg' in big, bold, English letters we couldn't say no. It was evident how long we have been in India when, in wanting something familiar for my stomach, we ordered a paneer butter masala, veg biriyani and tandoori roti. It went down well but would stay in my system just slightly longer than breakfast. We continued on the journey home.
Chris is getting quite good at pointing in one direction to make me look that way when there is an unappealable sight in the other direction. The dead dog yesterday was a good example. Today, he tried this tactic again but failed. I saw the cow, that we both thought was dead, lying in the middle of the road. But, thankfully, he lifted his head as we went past and gave himself a good few licks. He'd just been enjoying the sunshine, knowing full well that he was holy and people would try their hardest not to run him over.
When the road opened up on the ride home, and we were alone on the road, away from other idiot road users, it was a beautiful moment...just the three of us...riding in the sun through rural India.
Upon our arrival home, I was filling a bucket to flush the toilet with. Yes...we're getting quite good at it now. And, while Chris would later inform me that this toilet did in fact have a flush of sorts, it was lucky I was filling the bucket when I did. I had used the hot tap figuring that, because we apparently only had hot water for a few hours in the morning, it wouldn't make a difference. When I turned the tap off I noticed it was hot! Yes! Hot water actually flowing from a tap and from a shower head rather than from a bucket. We took full advantage while we could and showered, loving every minute of the afternoon hot water.
After a late lunch, and with my belly still doing funny things, we wouldn't need a big dinner so we headed out to grab a few supplies that hopefully would stay in my tummy. In an attempt to taste familiar food we returned with Cadbury Fruit and Nut Chocolate, crackers that are somehow (as they proudly advertise) both sweet and salty, sugar free biscuits, toothpaste, samosas and Indian Hair Oil that will hopefully treat my dry, damaged locks.
Upon our return home, Chris sat on the bed in his undies and a t-shirt, lent over a plastic bag, munching on his samosas and I sat, all rugged up, eating dry crackers. So romantic.
Miscellaneous Observations:
More often than not, when we see humans interacting with animals here, the animals are being mistreated. Whether people are keeping birds in minuscule cages, packing live chickens into overfilled wire cages, hitting dogs or tying cows to trees so they can barely bend to eat...it's been an eye opener. So, it was quite ironic when Chris read a quote from Mahatma Ghandi (the man who has a street named after him or a statue of him in most towns) which read "the greatness of a nation, and its moral progress, can be judged by the way in which its animals are treated." Sort of says it all.

Cricket, Godarpura Island

Ellora to Maheshwar

An example of a decorated truck

When we woke this morning I was feeling under the weather, to say the least. In spite of that though. we decided to do another big day of riding. It made sense at the time. When we got out of bed we discovered that the army was at on doorstep, sitting, chatting and generally not doing anything constructive. It turns out the prime minister's daughter was in town. That of course meant that she needed the army, the police and other plain clothed guys hanging around our accommodation. And they were armed to the hilt with everything from high powered guns to bamboo sticks. However, their lax attitude to patrolling the perimeter, like they informed us they should be doing, made me question ever wanting to put my safety in their hands.
As we rode out of our gated accommodation we got to see the full scale of the circus that had turned up to protect the prime minister's daughter and we were glad to be leaving.

Trucks in gridlock

Directing traffic

After about a hour on the road we came to a stop behind a massive line of trucks. Wondering what was going on we did what anyone on a motorcycle would do and rode to the front of the long queue. We discovered that the problem was simple: the road was too narrow for buses and trucks to pass each other. Considering their size we wondered if these vehicles should be on this road that plunges to a valley far beneath it or whether it perhaps would have been wiser for them to choose an alternate route. But, this is India. A dozen or so people had climbed out of their trucks to direct the traffic and, hopefully, prevent them tumbling off the cliff. The broken safety barrier told us that this was not always a successful venture. The makeshift traffic controllers did somehow create a gap big enough for Big Red to fit through, so we continued on our way for a short while before being stopped again by mor congested trucks. This theme of going around stopped trucks continued for the next half hour or so as lanes clogged with trucks trying too manoeuvre around tight corners. We felt like we belonged on one of those trucker shows...'world's most deadliest roads' or something.

Motorbikes can carry anything

We eventually got off the hill and onto quite a nice road with two lanes each way and a centre barrier. In spite of that there was still the occasional vehicle coming down the wrong side of the road. But we could keep up a good average speed.
Again, the road today was lined with far too many dead things, the worst of which included a dead cow that looked as though it had been skinned. Chris has a new tactic for helping me to avoid seeing these sights though. As we ride, we often point things out to one another. As we went Chris suddenly pointed to the left. I looked to find there was no unusual sights. Yes, there was a wooden cart being pulled by two bulls with painted horns, people cooking food in the street and other general mayhem but nothing out of the ordinary. When I questioned Chris as to what I was looking at he replied "nothing. There was a squashed dead dog on the other side of the road and I didn't want you to see it." What a romantic!

Too many

We also found ourselves pointing at unexpected sights today. Water! I grabbed Chris and excitedly pointed in the direction of a lake and gasped "water!" Chris' reply of "wow, that's pretty awesome" I think says a lot about just how dry it is here. Until now, the description Shantaram gave of people excitedly awaiting the first drops of the monsoon was difficult to believe. But, when you see people carrying water from a well in huge buckets on their head back to their home, and others using what little water they have just to settle the dust momentarily, it suddenly becomes a lot more real. I'd be excited for the monsoon too after barely seeing clouds for months on end.
We passed through numerous toll roads today, as we do most days, and made sure to make note this time of what they cost. Because we are on a motorbike we don't have to pay and, today only, we saved ourselves a few hundred rupees as a result. Thanks Big Red!
We rode into Maheshwar and I was not well. The long ride would have been tiring regardless but, with a sick tummy, it had not gone well. We settled on the first accommodation we looked at and it proved a great choice. Right near the fort, Hansa Heritage has mud rendered interior walls, cute painted detailing and coloured glass window panes all for the bargain price of 700 rupees a night. Finally! Clean accommodation is getting cheaper! We did however have to fill in a double-sided form each and then repeat the information into the reception guest book. Why they couldn't simply copy the information over was beyond us.
As we arrived in town, a new noise was added to the barrage that is India's sounds. A donkey braying. And finally Winnie the Pooh's character Eeyore's name makes sense!

Narmada River

With the evening quickly closing in we headed down to the Narmada River to watch pilgrims by the ghats. Shiva linga and their accompanying bull statues were absolutely everywhere. As were actual bulls for that matter.
Once back at our guest house we were informed that they like to put motorbikes inside at night so after they had done 'working' (i.e. sitting around, sleeping, talking loudly and watching TV) Chris needed to go down and ride Big Red up a rickety, little, narrow ramp and inside. I think they normally push bikes up this ramp because he got some strange looks when he started Big Red and rode up.
Because I wasn't feeling well, Chris was left to venture out again and be photographer all on his lonesome. He went back to the ghat at sunset to capture the happenings. On the way back he went in search of some food and quickly realised that this town has a serious lack of eateries. Other tourists were having the same problem. When he returned to share the bad news and I dragged myself out of bed to accompany him back to the one 'restaurant' he thankfully did manage to find. I ate a couple of bites of some sweet and sour spicy noodles while we chatted to a lovely French couple and Chris awaited his thali, which was being prepared elsewhere for some reason. The French couple were having similar issues with India to us. The noise! So it was nice to know we weren't alone. As Chris' thali arrived my stomach could no longer bear the smells of India. I have complete sympathy for how poor Mum must have felt with the smells of Morocco when she was sick. I retreated to our guesthouse and left Chris, again on his lonesome, to finish both of our dinners.

Narmada River