The plane began its decent and I looked out through the aircraft’s oval window. The sun was setting and it cast a golden glow out over a bed of thick, rolling cloud which stretched as far as the eye could see. In some places the white cloak rose up like odd pieces of furniture, casting long shadows across this weird yet wonderful environment. The plane tipped its wing and we plunged into the midst of it, my sight immediately reduced to just a few feet along the wing. With uncanny speed the light began to fall off and a dull grey reduced my vision even more. I kept looking down expecting to break out of the cloud at any moment, and see Delhi sprawled out below, yet I was kept waiting. One by one I saw lights and suddenly I realised that this wasn’t normal cloud, but thick fog which covered the entire city. Roads appeared, lit-up in lines of red and yellow that criss-crossed and wound their way past large warehouses and blocks of buildings.

We were lower now and a slum opened out below us. Incandescent light reflected off of the tin roofs and they appeared sloped, one perched precariously upon another, sweeping forward with momentum like a wave about to break. Then they too were gone, and a stony field marked the boundary of the airport.

The fog had now enveloped the plane completely. All anyone could see was a thick, immutable and opaque wall of grey, and I could hear a murmur from the passengers behind me as we were expecting to land at any second. A slight bump signalled our touchdown, and when it became clear that the plane was slowing, a nervous applause and cheer went up from the back of the plane!

Delhi airport was much nicer than the other airports we had passed through in India. For starters the roof wasn’t falling in (Looking at you Goa), and there was more than one nasty little snack hut offering food (Thanks Chennai). In fact there was a profusion of western food outlets which blinded us with their brilliant lights and familiar smells. However we had a connecting flight to catch and only twenty minutes left in which to do so. We rushed past the Dominos, KFC and Costa Coffee, leaving them forlornly in our wake as we hurried to the next terminal and the second round of security and baggage checks.

Luckily the evening was getting on and the new terminal was practically deserted, even so we made it to our gate with just moments to spare. From the gate we were shuttled towards a small propeller plane which stood alone on the runway. We climbed aboard and took stock of our surroundings. Almost everyone on the plane had silver bangles on their wrists and turbans atop their heads. So far we had seen very few Sikhs in the south, which is mostly made up of Christians, Muslims and lots of Hindus, and we looked forward to learning about this new religion and culture. Our plane set off and we took to the skies again, this time towards the Sikh’s holy city of Amritsar, and the treasures that lay ahead.

Happy New Year everyone.

I hope that you are all having a brilliant time wherever you may be.

Nicole and I visited a crocodile sanctuary the other week and I thought I would share a few photos of our close encounters!

Note the long-nosed Gharial which is very nearly extinct. The project is busy reintroducing them to the wilds.

Nicole and I stayed in the small town of Mahabalipuram over Christmas and we have been busy exploring the local ruins which are all counted as World Heritage Sites.

One of the most impressive locations was the Five Rathas which the British unearthed from centuries of being buried in sand. The temples are each given to a specific deity and each deity was also given a life-size carving of their mount just outside their temple. The large elephant was the best preserved, and certainly the star of the attraction. It took me a long time to get a moment without other tourists in the frame as there were scores bustling around.

In one of the following photos, the keen eyed amongst you might see a carving of an Egyptian Pharaoh. This is seen by many Indian scholars to indicate the existence of an ancient trade route between Egypt and Mahabalipuram.

We have spent the last week relaxing in the city of Pondicherry. This ex-colonial French city is perched on the coast about midway up Tamil Nadu. The French influence means that the centre of the city (also known as the heritage town) is laid out in a neat grid. Multi-storied maisons lean out over the paved roads, and a subtly present, white populace, peer over their balconies at those below.

Pavements run in front of little cafés and bakeries (Yes… Pavements in India!) and for a moment, if you let your mind wander, you can forget that you are in India all together. That is until a rickshaw bowls around the corner at berserker speed, horn blaring, forcing pedestrians to scatter in all directions.

Nicole and I, in search of some food, stumbled across a beautiful courtyard restaurant. It had palms and trees sprouting from the borders which hung over low set seating. Soft lighting strategically placed in the canopy set a pleasant mood and we went about ordering some of the finest food we have had in India so far. Nicole chose grilled swordfish, whilst I had a steak. It made a great change from weeks of idli, vada and uttapam which was becoming tiresome.

The next day we took a walk along the beach. This was no more than a short strip of sand leading down to a large jumble of black rocks which took the brunt of a strong and vicious onslaught from the waves. The water would come crashing in, break against the black rocks, and fly into the air in a salty spray that drifted in over the walkers on the sand. This was nowhere near the expectation of a calm and relaxing beach which I was looking forward to, yet I marvelled in its ferocity and we took several walks up and down during our stay.

One evening we paid a visit to a well-regarded pizzeria. They served up eighty different varieties of pizza, and we spent a good while browsing the menu before settling on some welcome food.

Nearby to the city was a small settlement called Auroville. This township was established in the sixties by ‘the mother’ a travelling woman who turned spiritual leader many years before when she founded an ashram in Pondicherry. Auroville attracts hundreds of people each year who come to volunteer and help develop the community. Originally at the time of founding, it was merely an arid desert plain, but with time and a lot of effort this place has been transformed into a lush, green oasis of plants and lawns which spread over a huge area. The town is divided up into zones and a large golden geodesic dome stands out in the open, a building which holds a large crystal that the town holds sacred. Although we did not get a chance to go inside of the dome (this requires advanced booking) we had the chance to look around the well-equipped visitor centre, which provided a restaurant, some historical information on boards and in a video room, and some shops which sold the produce of the town, items like soap and candles, as well as clothes. This visitor’s area was well constructed and sanitised in comparison to almost every other place we have been in India so far. We really wanted to see this community at work and play though, and took leave of the centre for a walk into the town itself. Although we walked a great distance, we didn’t bump into a single Aurovillian to talk to. Nicole joked that we had entered a ‘Jurassic Park’, an empty theme park, where the main attraction was missing. It was a very odd experience.

Having reached the very bottom of India we now turned our attention to Trichy some 200 miles to the north of Kanyakumari. We travelled by train happily putting the dirty coastal city behind us.

Trichy is pretty much in the geographic centre of Tamil Nadu, and its main attractions were some large temples which we visited over a couple of days. At this point we were looking forward to some hot water and clean accommodation. What we received instead was the usual lacklustre lodging, boasting none of the aforementioned pleasantries, instead piling on a busy kitchen above our room which began its morning preparations loudly, and at 3am. The icing on the cake here, were some neighbours who liked to watch their TV on full volume with the door to the hallway fully open.

The next day, fatigued, we made it to the base of the temple which is situated on a large rock jutting out from the middle of the city. We climbed up four hundred red and white striped stairs to the summit, where we were rewarded with some impressive vistas of the surrounding city.

At last our departure came around and we jumped into a rickshaw which motored at unbelievable speed and recklessness to the train station. We got out a little shaken from the journey. The driver paused a moment to collect his fare and then tore off with a screech of rubber on the tarmac.

Next we headed due east to Tanjore which has a good collection of, yep you guessed it, temples! The chief of these is actually known as the Tanjore Big Temple and appears on the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites. Fortunately our hotel here turned out to be much nicer than the last one and we settled in and slept for most of the day to make up for Trichy.

The next day we walked to the Big Temple and explored the complex. A large statue of a bull looked out over the courtyard which housed the interior temple, and Hindus queued up waiting for the doors to open for worship. The architecture was impressive, and the temple towered above us. Each building was adorned with intricate carvings, and much more detail was present than on the other temples we have seen.

This evening we found a cinema showing the second Hobbit film, and so rested our legs while we marvelled in the sheer magnificence of the epic. The best part of it was our tickets only cost £1 each!

Tomorrow we leave for Pudicherry which is an old French colony. I’m looking forward to it as we should be able to get hold of a nice bottle of wine there, or at least a few beers, a treat which has been missing from the majority of the south of India.

For the past two months we have maintained a steady journey south. This came to an end as we reached Kanyakumari, a town which sits on the southernmost tip of India.

We both felt a little accomplishment having reached this point, and took the chance to ascend one of the highest buildings in the town, to look out over the water, to where three seas meet.

To the east sits the Bay of Bengal, to the south the Indian Ocean, and to the west the Arabian Sea. Just off the mainland sits a large rock on which the locals erected a statue to Thiruvalluvar, a revered Tamil poet.

From Alleppey we took an auto-rickshaw four hours south to Varkala. We emerged from the vehicle feeling cramped and shook to pieces. We calculated the journey to take two hours but I forgot that the rickshaws have a top speed of 40km/h, effectively doubling our journey time; a mistake I have vowed not to make again! Still the journey only cost us £16, and in a financial sense we emerged victorious, considering that the local taxis had been trying to charge us £30 for the same trip.

Varkala was a shift back to a beach town. Steep hills led from the cliff-side which was covered in a mass of busy restaurants and charming houses and huts, down to the beach which was clean and well enjoyed by both international and domestic tourists. We had been warned off going in the water by a few people, as apparently the sea can be quite treacherous to the uninitiated, with strong currents and rip tides causing many an unwary swimmer to come a cropper.

This village seemed well prepared for tourism and we enjoyed the cliff-side walks, stopping to look in the many jewellery and instrument shops where the locals showed off their assorted silver bands embedded with semi-precious stones and then their sitars and drums that they constructed right there on the floor of the shop.

We only had two days here as we had pre-booked a batch of onward journeys on the train, so whilst we move on today we have added Varkala to our list of potential Christmas candidates.

Alleppey is built on the mouth of India’s most comprehensive network of canals, lagoons and lakes. This network, otherwise called the ‘Backwater’ stretches through the whole of Kerala. Word has it that you can navigate the entire state now that two main lengths have been linked up.

Our journey took us out along the pier to find a houseboat, an experience that had come highly recommended by other fellow travellers.

We spent a few hours talking to other tourists when we arrived though and found that the larger houseboats were too big to fit down the smaller canals, and strict bylaws determining movement on the waters prevented them from travelling after 6pm. As a result of this, the houseboats tended to stick to the larger lagoons and then moor up at the side of the lakes in the evening. We found through some animated discussions with local boat captains that we could alternatively take a smaller craft (Shikara class) for the afternoon, which not only would take us down the smaller canals that threaded between the villages but would also only cost a sixth of the price of a large houseboat.

We opted for the smaller vessel and took off along the wide canal that ran through the centre of the small city. Within twenty minutes, we had cleared the hustle and bustle of Alleppey and had emerged on a large lake where we could see the hulking houseboats all sat idly by. A few bumbled across the water leisurely, their sheer size sending waves that would lap across our small boat’s side.

Soon we were across the lake and our captain took us expediently down a small canal and into a small settlement. The tree canopy provided plenty of shade from the midday sun and we looked out over the houses that sat just below the banks of the canal and the waterline. Local people were busy taking the opportunity to wash their pots and pans and even fish from lines set up outside their homes. Most were friendly to us and we got many smiles and waves from the banks of the canal. Outside most houses other small crafts were moored and many of these were painted in striking primary colours. Some of the boats were adorned with the heads of various animals. The most amazing thing about these villages were that, despite the inhabitants being busy at work alongside the water, a pervasive silence filled the air and as I lay back on the divan I could feel the stresses of weeks of travelling start to peel back and float away.

For hours our captain navigated us past paddy fields filled with workers who all had little umbrella hats fixed atop their heads with bands. We passed a large Catholic church which had no road access but only boat. We alighted here for a while and explored. The church itself had been built up around a much older wooden hut in order to preserve it in time. It was a weird experience seeing a building inside of a building and going into the inner hut was entertaining as I could not fit through any of the miniature doorways but instead had to explore the structure by way of the larger windows.

The tour of the waterways lasted four hours, and we returned to the shore feeling refreshed and relaxed. This was part of Kerala that I felt almost duty bound to experience and I am pleased to say that the experience exceeded my expectations.

We followed up our stay in the district of Ernakulam by taking a rickshaw over to an island district of Cochin named Fort Kochi. This area was much less busy than Ernakulam and came as a relief to us when we alighted from our rickshaw in the quiet tree lined neighbourhood that our accommodation was based.

Our lodgings were in a home stay which seemed to be quite a popular option in Cochin. Our host was a man called Dev, who was keen to look over a map with us and show us where all the best parts of his city lay. When we got up to our room we were stunned to find a newly built bedroom, decked out in splendour. In fact, it rivalled some of the more expensive hotels we had previously stayed in, and for only £14 a night!

Exploring the local area led us up to a restaurant, not too far away, which had come recommended. Dal Roti as it was called, served up a signature dish called a Kati Roll. This shallow fried wrap contained a wide range of available fillings and every one I had (every meal for the next few days) was totally delicious. It earned its reputation easily and came in as my favourite restaurant so far.

A little further to the north of Dal Roti was the beach. Along this small patch of sand stood rows of Chinese fishing nets. These cantilevered contraptions dominated the view, and there was a gaggle of Indians stood trying to convince me to cough up some money for a personalised demonstration of how they worked!

Further on and down the east side of the island, we hit a charming neighbourhood called Jew Town. As well as featuring the area’s only synagogue, it had a vast array of shops (some large warehouses too) selling a cornucopia of antique and traditional goods. Nicole and I spent hours walking around the aisles, awestruck by the scale of some of the items on display.

Finally, we made our way to the theatre where we watched a display put on by the local martial art dojo. This style of fighting was brutal and had none of the flair and flashiness that you see in the Japanese styles such as Wu Shu. Although the performance was fairly short, we felt we got more that our monies worth and even donated some extra to the dojo to go towards the upkeep of the tradition.