Cloudy Bay

500 miles north and 2 days later I'm at the northern end of the South Island to find myself on the hallowed ground that is Cloudy Bay vineyard. The very vines and grapes that go into (arguably) the ultimate NZ Sauvignon Blanc are there in front of me, and it's tempting to get down and kiss the earth in awe (obviously I don't as this would look a little over-obsessive).

Of course, in reality it looks much like any other vineyard - rows of anonymous looking plants surrounding an opulent tasting hall that tells you where some of that premium price goes... Still, like most new world wineries, they're chatty, friendly and happy to hand out as many samples as you think the drink driving laws will take. Also the SB is about 40% of the price it is in the UK - it seems criminal to leave without stocking up on a case or two, but this is no time to undo the good work I've been doing the last 6 weeks in reducing my inevitably overpacked luggage.

The road to Glenorchy

November 28th.

It seems like all the people in Queenstown - 'adventure capital of New Zealand', and friendly relaxed vibey place - are either 20 years younger than me or 20 years older. I guess the 40-somethings are all either at work and/or looking after children (shouldn't you be doing that too, I hear some of you say).

I head off with no particular expectations along the lakeside road, it's not mentioned in the guidebook, but every corner turns out to have another impossibly perfect view. Glenorchy itself is of course tiny but doesn't stop it having three cafes. The one I pick again does a reliably mean flat white and some great brunches to have out back in the garden in the sun looking at the clear blue skies and the mountains. Ho hum, November Wednesdays are always such a drag...

NZzzzzzz

This place is so relaxed that my life has slowed to levels only a little above where cryogenics kick in. No complaints about that, mind. The sun keeps shining despite the 5 metres of rainfall I hear they get a year on the west coast (producing some truly beautiful ancient rainforest which I've explored a little of - not too much activity though you understand....). The air is crystal clear (promised in Bhutan but really true here) and driving on the deserted roads there's just the minor stress of who has priority on the one lane bridges to deal with, plus great views served up on a regular basis. Then there's the surprising (and welcome) capacity of a place the size of England with 1m people in it to consistently turn up great coffee shops just when you're starting to think it would be nice to chill for a while with a 'flat white' (sort of latte/macchiato cross, though they have both of those as well). It's also reassuring to see that someone breaking the woman's sheepshearing world record made second item on the TV news yesterday. (In case you're wondering, 650 sheep were sheared in the allotted 12 hours).

No wonder the New Zealanders feel obliged to spice things up with a bit of extreme sports now and then (such as attached - no not me).

Glacier town dilemma

I don't know about you, but I always find this a tough one. You drive for miles with no glaciers and then all of a sudden two come along at once (well 25km apart). Which one to stay at for the night? Fox Glacier (yes, the town is called that as well as the ice formation) is a little further down the coast but can't match Franz Josef Glacier (ditto) for wacko name, also my guide book suggests you can get up close and personal with the ice at FJ but not Fox. It turns out to be the other way round, plus Fox looks the nicer town, plus it's close to Lake Matheson where once in a blue moon you get great views of Mount Tasman and Mount Cook on 'still and clear' early mornings. The large numbers of people coming back to the car park with oversize cameras and tripods tell me however I'm already too late to see the view (or the blue moon) by 7.30am as it's already clouded over.

It's not all one-sided though - Fox Glacier hasn't got a groovy bus-as-internet-cafe.

Note - in case you don't think the glacier looks very impressive, look at the size of the people in the pic.

Christchurch

So I've travelled right round the world... to end up in a little bit of England. Punting on the Avon, statues of Queen Victoria, nowhere to park, and a little light teenage yobbery of a Saturday evening. It all helps make you feel right at home.

Aussie Election Fever

Probably not much on the radar back in the UK or elsewhere, but tomorrow (Saturday) is Election Day in Oz. It's fairly momentous as John Howard (Liberal - but Conservative in Brit equivalent) is going for a 5th successive win - he's already been PM here longer than either Thatcher or Blair. Up against him - and ahead in the polls all year - is Labor's Kevin Rudd, a John Major look- and sound-alike (though slightly better taste in glasses), who is going for the be-more-conservative-than-the-conservatives approach (sound familiar at all?).

Just to ratchet up the excitement - (a) the polls today show a narrowing of the Labor lead and Oz has form in last minute surprises, and (b) Bruce and Jo live in the Prime Minister's own constituency, which itself is marginal and he might lose. Voting is also compulsory here. Bruce is, happily for me, an election buff too, and if I'd known, I'd have got my Saturday morning flight to Christchurch delayed 24 hours so I could join him for an evening of beers and election drama tomorrow night. However, the good news is he has promised to mail me a DVD of the results show...

Blue Mountains/No Mountains

I've hired a car for 2 days and headed off into the Blue Mountains west of Sydney. The idea is to do some 'bush walking' on some of the trails. I'm just getting my bearings and get one or two good photies of the mountains in the hot sunshine (see attached) when a huge storm whips up out of nowhere and rolls around the hills for the next six hours. After about three, the electricity cuts out in the hotel - for 2 hours. Not a huge problem - I have a torch and planned to head out for dinner in the very cutesy village of Leura where I am staying. However poking a nose outside I see the electricity is out across the village. No matter, drive to next town. Electricity out there too. Drive 20k west... still out. Drive 40k the other way before street and traffic lights are finally on again. Assemble sort of dinner from various outlets and head back. That said - pizza, red wine and Aussie election coverage on TV = happy Martin.

This morning I got up to find the village completely fog-bound so had to have 2 capuccinos a pastry and a newspaper waiting for it to clear (the sacrifice). It did clear - in the village. Trails still foggy - and no mountains to be seen of any colour, just a wall of grey at the lookouts. In some ways I preferred it - cooler for walking, fewer tourists and the insects had disappeared. Maybe I would have felt differently if I hadn't seen the views briefly yesterday. I got 3-4 hours walking but then the rain arrived and that was that.

Bridge Climb

Only the Aussies (well, perhaps Kiwis too) could have a gigantic bridge in their harbour and think not only 'I would like to climb that', but also think they could get about 2 million other people to do it too and pay for the privilege.

However, Bruce and Jo assure me that Bridge Climb is a must-do Sydney experience, but as I get close up to it and see it at full size, with the wind getting up...

So the deal is this. You get put into a very attractive all-in-one jump suit along with about a dozen other people, get some quick training on walking up and down the ladders, put on some radios so you can hear the group leader through the wind, then walk down the street looking like you've come to put out a nuclear reactor fire until you get to the start of the bridge. You get clipped to a clever device that keeps you hooked to a steel line all the way round, then off you go - first through the underside of the bridge structure, then you climb several sets of ladders that has you appearing through the middle of the freeway, then you get onto the top arch and climb up to the middle where the flags are. Then you cross over from one side the other (with the Freeway about 200 feet below) and walk down the other side. It takes about 3 hours in all. The views are amazing (they needed to be...) Daniel, our wholesome all-Australian guide, helpfully mentions at the top that the height of the bridge is the same as the London Eye (about 500ft) - with the obvious difference that you're outside. If you look very carefully at the photo of the bridge attached, you might be able to make out some dots on the top arch - that's the Bridge Climb (you may need to double click on the photo to enlarge it).

By the way, Bruce and Jo are right. It's awesome.

Sydney

G'day!

The Kathmandu-Calcutta-Singapore-Sydney triple hop was happily uneventful, the only downer being no internet availability in Calcutta Airport so a very boring 6 hours there. 24 hours after leaving the Shanker Hotel in Kathmandu I touched down at Sydney just five minutes late.

I'm staying here with good friends Bruce and Jo Colman and their two young sons Dylan and Lewis. Bruce worked with Kate in Oxford in the 90's and I met them in the first few weeks that Kate and I were seeing each other. They immediately announced they were going back to Australia...

It was a welcome sight to see Bruce waiting at arrivals and weird to be on smooth roads as we drive out to their house. We snatch a view of the Opera House as we swing round in front of the harbour and then turn to drive over the massive Harbour Bridge.

We stay up chatting late but I am keen to be up and out and see the city on Monday. Needless to say that goes by the board, I sleep till midday then spend till 3pm doing the blog update I would have done in Calcutta. But then head into town, and it's... great. There's something momentous about harbour cities and Sydney does it really well.

And then there were three

November 15-17.

Our group disbands, a bit sadly, in dribs and drabs. Ron, my tent-mate on trek (thanks for putting up with that, Ron) leaves us in Paro to head eastwards back to Wisconsin, Chris(tine) leaves us Thursday morning for Winchester, and late Thursday afternoon Sue from Twickenham and the three Scottish lassies also depart Kathmandu. Which leaves three of us staying till Saturday.

Hannah and Nicky have decided to join me on a day trek on Friday into the Kathmandu Valley, which turns out well because (a) they're good company, and (b) it dilutes the faintly dislikable guide. We head up to a high point at Nagarkot, and walk 4 hours mainly downhill in a big arc. Above the pollution haze over Kathmandu the views of the Himalayas are awesome, the day is pin-sharp and the mountains much closer than in Bhutan. We end the day in Baktapur, well-preserved medieval town (maybe what Kathmandu was once more like?) though also inevitably lots of tourists.

(Almost) as memorable is real Italian pizza and great cappuccino (though any rough approximation probably would be after a month) at 'Fire & Ice' in Kathmandu. This knocks off two trivial cravings - others being:

- Brushing teeth under a tap

- Wine (Aussie red and NZ white would do just nicely)

- Sandwich - preferably from Pret

- Any meal without rice in it

Saturday midday we leave Kathmandu. The plane is late and by the time it leaves the sun is starting to set, suddenly washing the still-clear mountains in variously pink, orange, red. Before heading to Calcutta the plane does a lap of honour over the city - as the sun goes down the colour moves up the mountains to their tips until they are all just silent grey, then we head south and they are gone.

A month out, South Asia has been amazing, full-on, sensory overload, beyond any expectations I could reasonably have had. Not coming back sometime isn't an option.

Kathmandu - mad metropolis

I suppose, if you try very hard, you can just about imagine Kathmandu as a small, quiet, faintly medieval, quite religious, mountain trading centre. It isn't any more.

Playing as much to tourists as locals, the narrow streets seethe with small (and some large western) shops, traders, motorbikes, trucks and cars, horns much to the fore as elsewhere in Asia, the effect of the exhaust fumes emphasised by the thinner air (albeit we're only at about 5,000 feet here). I had thought Indian driving was an experience, but really they're amateurs compared with the brinkmanship here. Not one for the cycling trip I think.

At first I thought it was all a bit forgettable but after 3 days I'm warming to the place. One to come back to?

The P Word (Bhutan)

In Bhutan - Politics.

The country has been a kingdom for 100 years since the 'first king' was elected from among the various rulers of bits of the country, and ruled in an absolute though apparently benevolent way since then (it's difficult to decipher exactly) - the 'fourth king' who came to the throne in the 1970's famously made it his objective to increase 'gross national happiness' rather than gross national product - although he is being helped in that aim by getting Indian migrant workers to do lots of the rough jobs.

We caught Bhutan in the middle of what is clearly huge change - domestic TV only arrived in 2000, and until last year all men and women were required to wear national dress ('gho' - a sort of tartan robe and kilt with knee length socks for men, and 'kira' - full length straight dress, same tartan for women) between 6am and 6pm. There are also first elections due on new year's eve, and it's all being taken very seriously, with mock elections being held so people can get the hang of it, and articles in the state-run newspapers headed 'Politicians - Good People' - can't imagine that running in The Sun somehow... The historic central role of religion (Buddhism), its philosophy and rituals, is also coming under pressure - embedded traditionally both in the power structures (the king only rules the secular side - there is a Chief Abbot who has equal sway over the religious) and the fact that there are so many monks (who effectively report up through the religious side). For older people (meaning anyone over 30) it's still obviously part of the fabric of life (see photos) but for the young it's equally obviously not.

There are already more tourists, and will be more still - the Druk Air monopoly surely can't last forever, and you can't help thinking that overall it will end up being more like everywhere else at the end of all this. On the other hand do people really want to live in a sort of medieval rural theme park forever? It's a truism to say there will be pluses and minuses, but from what I saw, I would say (a) it's probably unstoppable, and (b) it will mean one less bit of diversity in our homogenising world.

Dzonged Out

The hotel in Thimpu after 5 days on the road could have been pretty crumby and still semed like heaven provided the showers worked, but it was good by any standard, and an indescribably welcoming sight. Thimpu (pop. 95,000 - but that's double what it was 2 years ago) is a reasonably happening sort of town, and was able to meet several members of the group's need for bow and arrow purchases (archery is national sport).

A couple of welcome recovery days follow and we drive east in a minibus to see various other dzongs - Punakha, Wangdi, Jeli, were there others? They all follow the similar model of fortress, temple and monastery, and although highly striking, beautiful and other-worldly, it's good not to have signed up for that two-week comprehensive evaluation of every dzong in the country. It's also just good to let the world go by for a couple of days and gently absorb this very odd but very appealing country.

The Joys of Camping

Er, there aren't any.

Bhutan Dry Season

It's true that it doesn't rain in the dry season in Bhutan - it snows instead.

Trek Day 1 starts gently enough with visit to National Museum, notable above all for its entire floor devoted to the stamp collection. Bhutan seems to have marked every last British royal occasion on its stamps but very few of its own. Guide-in-chief (Chencho) looks slightly cross when we get out as assistant-guide (Kinley) has overrun by an hour, which means we're going to find the ascent ahead tougher. Day 1 is almost all uphill - Paro is at 7,000 feet, the museum 8,000 and we end the day camping at over 11,000. We're supported by 18 mules, 7 cooks/horsemen and 2 guides, which seems a bit excessive for 9 of us, but there is nothing at all between Paro and Thimpu (the capital about 50-60km away, to which we are walking) - apart from mountains obviously.

The snow at night is accompanied by cobalt-blue skies during most of the days (at least that's what I remember - the photos don't seem always to show it...) with clouds billowing in seas of white below us as much as above at this height. We get great views of the eastern Himalayas behind the Bhutan 'hills', though we're still talking 5,000m for most of those. The route is very definitely up and down, with no one on it (we met one trekking couple in 5 days) and overall personally (as a complete novice) a great challenge - one that would however have been improved no end however by ending up at a nice pub with good beer and food and a warm bed each day. Oh well. Highest point was 4,210m (about 14,000 feet) on the second last day, which was marked by walking into a snowstorm down from it to our campsite just above Thimpu - questions about whether we we are nearly there yet being met with an enigmatic 'not exactly' from Chencho (i.e. No).

Breathless

Tuesday 6th November.

As a warm up for the main event that starts tomorrow, we take on a walk up to the Taktsang - the Tiger's Nest - a fortress-come-monastery that justifies the word 'clings' to the rockface. So named because its founder arrived in the area about 500 years ago via a flying tigress - as you do.

It's about 3 hours and a reasonably steep incline, but we're all way more out of breath than we expect, due to altitude. Back to Paro and a look around their Dzong (Buddhist monastery-fortress) above the town, which is stunning in its level of decoration and in the level of cold that the monks there must have to endure. In a country of 700,000 about 1 in 4 males is a monk, and they start at around age 6 (so not exactly a personal career choice). But it is beautiful above a covered bridge over the river that runs past the town. 5 days trek and 4 nights camping starts tomorrow - never done it before, let alone at 12-14,000 feet. Wonder if I've got the right equipment...? Everyone else seems to have several changes of trekking poles and a complete North Face store with them. A bit late to wonder maybe?

A Wow Moment

Monday 5th November.

Druk Air (Bhutan's state airline) is a strange beast. Created only 20 years ago, it has a handy monopoly over all flights into Bhutan's one airport at Paro (second 'city' of Bhutan - pop. about 50,000). The planes are all shiny new Airbuses and the service is immaculate, but there appear to be no Bhutanese, or Nepalese, or indeed anyone Asian at all on the flight from Kathmandu. So Druk Air is in fact an entirely tourist-focused operation, but to be fair it does it very well (apart from the very odd cream cheese sandwiches served as refreshments).

And although the flight is the shortest of the16 I'm taking on this trip (45 mins), I'd place bets it's going to turn out the most memorable. It's cloudy and hazy in Kathmandu, with the surrounding hills barely visible, and we're just entertaining ourselves with a further 15 minute adjustment to watches, when suddenly out of nowhere we're through the clouds, into the clearest of blue skies and the Himalayas are sitting there right alongside us (as the Captain mentions we're at 22,000 feet...). A stunning moment and Everest appears shortly afterwards, familiar from all the photos you've seen of it (see my addition to the set).

Paro airport is according to the guidebooks the most difficult airport to land at in the world (as well to know this before the captain makes a lurching dive to the left to get down into the valley...), but it's also probably the most attractive, built to look like the other highly decorative buildings of Bhutan.

Immediate impressions:
- Neat and ordered and quiet (major contrast to trip so far)
- Alpine (like Slovenia in particular?)
- More prosperous - buildings are solid and although it's largely rural and clearly not rich, the country doesn't seem poor either
- Chinese/Tibetan influenced - in looks, language, religion and food, although clearly it's India with whom the major links exist (lots of migrant workers, currency fixed to the rupee 1:1, same cars and trucks etc.)

Please adjust your watches by 15 minutes

Sunday 4th November.

What exactly is the point of Nepal's separate time zone? It's a small country and has a perfectly good time zone directly to the south (India), but it decides it needs to be another 15 minutes further forward. Unsurprisingly it seems to be on its own on this one. So here we are - Kathmandu, GMT + 5.75.

Go to hotel for 12 hour layover before flight to Bhutan tomorrow, and meet the group - 7 women plus me. To be fair (a) they are all very nice, and (b) there's an American guy joining us in Bhutan tomorrow to even things up a little bit. Happily no one seems to be a trek pro - and everyone's been reading between the lines in the itinerary wondering whether it might be a bit more than a stroll in the park.

In Kolkata Airport

Somewhat unfeasibly, I seem to be in Kokata at 8.30 in the morning. I have over 5 hours until my connection to Kathmandu (airport wait) so internet cafe was a welcome sight (see nice photo, albeit slightly bleary, of me at could-be-anywhere-in-the-world computer screen, but is in fact here in Kolkata as I type...). The airport is surprisingly calm and pleasant - just as well as I have even longer here in 2 weeks' time en route to Sydney. The time and good connectivity mean you've also finally got photos too.

Even by the standards of wake up calls over the last 2 weeks, this morning's was early (3.15). Seeing Delhi's streets clear of traffic was an odd sight - getting in yesterday evening was a 2 hour marathon through the city, but it's worth it when my flight all runs totally smoothly and on time - against expectations from various horror stories of endemic delays. Even the breakfast on board was excellent. I had an option on a later flight from Delhi which would have meant only a 2 hour wait here, but it would have been too nerve shredding, as I must be in Kathmandu tonight - or I don't get on the plane to Bhutan tomorrow morning, and a 9-day trip is in the can. All I need now is for Indian Airlines to run the Kolkata-Kathmandu flight... sometime today...

Probably radio silence for the next 10 days or so - not expecting too many internet cafes in Bhutan, particularly at the various yak herders' camps...

Taj Mahal

What's to say? It's awesome, in line with expectations. I liked it very much, but didn't feel overwhelmed by it. Maybe because I did come with high expectations - which it absolutely met. The most awesome fact was that all the marble came from 380km away - a place we went to a few days ago. Lots of flat bed trucks today (disturbingly unstrapped down) moving chunks of marble that would be a tiny piece of TM. And then cutting it - we saw some industrial revolution-style mighty machine that manages to cut 9 inches an hour. How did they do it pre-mechanisation? Endless people and money I suppose is the answer.

That all said, over dinner we were trying to think of more fabulous buildings around the world and struggled. Any thoughts?

Ending on a high

Friday 2 Nov - last cycle. We start early (as usual) and are on the bikes just after 7 - the first time it's felt a bit nippy out. We're on an idyllic quiet rural road in hazy morning sunlight (see photo - though haze turns out to be mainly pollution from Agra), the police detail have left us (we're back to totally friendly) and it's a great last 40k as we cross out of Rajasthan (see photo for crossing the 'state line') and into Uttar Pradesh. The Cat-ometer (one of our group, Cat, has brought her own bike with speedo helpfully fixed) tells us we've covered 560km on the bikes over 2 weeks - with longest day 90km. The stars have been a great group of 11, everyone's been at ease with everyone else - Avtar and Krishna our 2 tour leaders who have done a great job adapting to the unexpected (always happens with bike trips), but most of all probably the bikes themselves and the Rajasthan cities and country - and biking in both. With a slightly heavy heart (!) I pack the cycle helmet and gloves until Bolivia next month...

The P Word

There are lots of signs of the New India - in the cities especially, cars increasingly appearing - in Delhi they are starting to dominate, and malls are going up over the suburbs of the capital as well as in the bigger towns like Jaipur. Everywhere, and particularly in the countryside, swathes of multi-lane highway are under construction. The affluent middle classes are in evidence - mobile phones and digital cameras in abundance. You know things are changing when you start getting asked to take photos by local Indian tourists...

Out in rural Rajasthan the signs are less abundant - apart from the highway building - and the best thing about cycling anywhere is you get right into the heart of a place. People still wear traditional clothes (very bright - see first photo), animals have at least as much a share of the road as vehicles, but above all, the deep, dead weight of poverty is everywhere. Vast swathes of the day are dedicated to things we do at the flick of a switch - collecting firewood, pumping water, and the deep joy of starting your day following the cows picking up the dung with bare hands (a nice way to start the day before school, Martha and Ellen please note - just have to be careful not to get it on your uniform...) to fashion into building sized arrangements of dung cake. Funnily enough, although it's still a very patriarchal society, I didn't happen to notice any men or boys doing this attractive job, and out in the fields and on construction sites women if anything seemed to get the toughest physical jobs e.g. carrying bowls of cement or piles of paving slabs on their heads.

Once the car/mall/highway revolution is complete, India will have changed forever and within a generation it's hard to see that there will be much room for cycle rickshaws, camel carts or the endless tiny stores and street food that line every major road. Homogeonised westerness looms? But if the poverty disappears with it, why wouldn't anyone grab with both hands - it's the road we've come after all.

Re: Tigers @ Ranthambore - Auto Reply

We are in the park today but not available to be seen. Sorry, we don't do appointments. Have a nice day anyway.

A bit subdued

Out of Jaipur at 7am - big temperature sign tells us it's already 26C. Hmm, and it's 2 hours before we start cycling today. We reach start point to be told we have to wait another hour before the police detail arrives. Don't remember that bit in the itinerary... Apparently not everyone has been totally friendly along this stretch recently, which sobers us a bit as to date all we've had is smiling faces, openness and warmth. A bit sobering - we wonder if we have been naive at all to date. But we set off with the rather bizarre sight of convoy of 11 cyclists led by a jeep full of rather portly policemen, we soon find out why as they proceed to snaffle all the snacks on board our vehicle, take chai with us, have lunch etc etc.

Around 5 miles out a red car comes past too fast and clips Avtar at the front who goes flying and takes down Gemma one of our group with him. Despite waving etc to stop, the car disappears, however little do they realise that we have our escorts.... The police people are of course delighted and leap into self-important mode. 20km down the track they are stopped by a roadblock and Gemma and Avtar disappear to the nearest police station where suitable apologies are exchanged for not pressing charges after a suitable amount of form filling.

Meanwhile for the remainder the road is hot, bumpy and the scenary not great, and by 1.30 lunch stop in the heat of the day we've only done about 20 of our 60 miles. We're all a bit miz. But gradually it picks up in the afternoon, the k's start to get done, Gemma and Avtar rejoin us and by early evening we're flying through great light and busy villages before a final 10k sprint down to Ranthambore Tiger Reserve.

Martha's Birthday

Saturday 27 October.

Started day in Pushkar, to see temple, one of 7 holiest sites in Hindu. We were all separately a bit underwhelmed, but memorable was the pushiness of the hawkers, who raised it to artform level. Meanwhile all not well with the support vehicle. First they took down half the town's electricity supply hitting a cable the night before, then managed two punctures as well as the engine not starting (how do you do both?).

So we set off anyway. By lunchtime reports were that punctures and engine were fixed but now stuck in sand 30km behind us. We meanwhile were all out of water, so we stopped in next town and found shade under huge banyan tree as base for water search. Immediately surrounded by a flood of children who walked out of school to meet us and proceeded not to get bored with us for the next hour. No water in the village obviously (apart from pumped from well variety), but there was crystal clear mobile reception. Martha is 7 today and I phoned her at my parents' house - I still find technology can be awesome at times. Trying to describe the heat and chaos around us cut no ice at all of course, as I could hear the gentile sounds of England and the delights of 7th birthday presents (inc globe to see where I am). Eventually Avtar, one of our tour leaders flagged down a jeep and got the driver to take him 25km (each way) to get water and snacks - a good moment when he got back.

The afternoon improved - great cycles through quiet countryside, the bus caught us up by 4pm and some nice towns to finish the day before we completed the journey to Jaipur by bus. But we'll probably all remember the couple of hours in the middle of nowhere under the banyan tree with the children.

Blue City - White City - Pink City

Jodhpur is blue city. Difficult to see why at first until you get up to the fort high above the city. The brahmin (upper caste) were originally allowed to paint their houses blue, so now everyone wants to - and you look down on a sea of blue and white.

Udaipur is white city. I think because the big lake palace (it's a palace in the middle of the lake...) is strikingly white. There's a city palace too - which isn't. (see photo). My favourite of the three I think. The scale is manageable, the setting (lake) is fabulous, and it just looks the sort of place you could hang out happily for a week or two.

Jaipur is pink city. Its walls are deep pink. It's a huge place - 3.5m people - originally one of the first planned cities in Asia (early 1700's), but now filled to capacity inside the city walls and sprawling out for kms beyond.

Mad cycling to be had in all of them.

Bonkers - but in a good way...

Cycling in India - how to describe? Apart from that it is indescribable. Cities and country are different. Cities are mayhem - no real road rules, cycles, motorbikes, trucks, tuk-tuks (passenger-carrying lawn mowers), the odd car, cows, goats, camels, donkeys, everything beeping at everything else while people weave in between and trade and eat at the side of the road. The roar of the horns and street life together is amazing. Although there is a vague keep left tendency, it doesn't seem to be a fixed rule if going on the other side is quicker. Roundabouts I shall leave to your imagination.

In the country things are quieter, but in the villages the children tear out of schools and homes to shout and wave. It's odd being minor celebrities - very few westerners are on two wheels, and most people haven't seen cycle helmets or bikes with gears before. When we stop for chai breaks there's quickly a crowd of 20 or 30 around us. It's hot, but very dry so even cycling in the heat of the day (30-35C this time of year) is manageable, but the cool of morning and early evening light are fantastic.