Baba

I have to recommend the hostel. The owner could be the most helpful person I've ever met. Letters of thanks cover a wall. Everything you ever want can be organised by Raj.

Today he took me and four others to a temple he's been worshipping at for two years. It's one hour out of the city in the hills. There are Baba's (Sadhu's) living here. They give up their lives to reach the next stage of holiness. Some even attend their own funeral (!?) We sit in the dusty front porch to his dwelling. Monkeys bounding on the roof and pictures of previous Baba's all around. He pulls out a paper wrap of Marijuana and loads a chillum. He wears orange robes, has long grey hair and smiling eyes. He pulls huge puffs of smoke down and slowly exhales clouds. I wish i could get my camera out at this point. He passes the chill-em over to us and we all take a drag. It's extremely smooth, like breathing fresh air. After 30 seconds everything relaxes. This seems like a nice life, living in the sunny mountains with the monkeys, smoking weed and drinking chai! I recall Raj's story of a childs grandmother being eaten by a cheetah here, three months back, and snap to reality.

After some exploring of a dry waterfall Raj calls us "come come". There's a lot of fuss and villagers run up to another Baba and begin to worship him. He walks through them, and down to the temple. They all follow in silent awe. "This Baba rarely comes" Raj explains, wide-eyed. It's a rare sight to see him.

Scam

Me, Luke and Marlene decide to head to Mumbai central. Looks easy enough on a map. 10km on the train, no problems. We leave the hostel and head to the train station. Walking down the side of the crazy main road. It's 30 degrees and seriously smoggy. Asking along the way locals tell us the station is "just there". Further and further. "it's just there". Eventually we find the station, and learn that the trains aren't running because of mechanical failure. We spend the next 30 minutes trying to find out what bus goes to town (it's the 84). We find the stop only to find hoards waiting. The bus comes and the hoard enters the bus, hanging off anything they can. Plan C is a tuk-tuk. After finally flagging one there is an argument between the driver and furious locals, wondering why he would take tourists over them. Pretty obvious. Now we're on the way. That is until the driver informs us that he's not allowed into the centre and his friend will take us from there in a taxi. He seemed to want us to pay him the whole amount and he would split it with his friend later. We declined, for fear of being ripped off when we get into Mumbai. He stops at the side of the road and a taxi is waiting there. From here on locals gathered around and two policemen appeared to sort out the confusion as to who was going to take these rich westerners. In the end the policeman with a metal pole ushered the tuk-tuk driver away and we boarded the taxi, agreeing on 300 rupees. This took another hour, with the driver being extremely grumpy. I'm not sure what exactly happened but they may not be friends anymore.

The trains were running on the journey back. It took 45 minutes and 8 rupees!

Namaste

The high-rises, slums and rivers of tuk-tuk unfold 30 meters below me as the plane comes into land. It seems like the runway is never going to appear. More houses... cars... ah, there it is. I get off the plane and straight through security then out into searing (compared to -10 in the UK) heat. Immediately greeted by a smiling driver from the Anjali hostel i'm bundled into a car and we head off into the madness. This is culture shock at its greatest. Did i make the right choice coming to India first? Maybe i should've warmed up in South East Asia.

I cannot sleep sitting up, so had no sleep whatsoever on the flight over. I get to the hostel and start chatting to a tall, long-haired chap from Cornwall. He suggests going out, checking out a Hari Krishna temple. Why not! Seems pointless to sleep now. The hostel is 200m back from the main road. A dusty side street, a few kiosks, some dogs and laughing children. We exit the side street onto mayhem. A trillion tuk-tuk's, cars, people, animals, revving, talking, barking, beeping. BEEPING! The pollution is intoxicating and headache inducing but the whole scene is utterly fascinating. I often found myself staring:  "how on earth is this possible??" We get a tuk-tuk to the temple, the driver gleeful that he'd found some westerners to rip-off. Not in a bad way, he felt opportunity knock. Constantly haggling your price before, during and after becomes tiresome after a while but if you have a general idea of journey length a good estimate can be made, and stuck to. After the temple and a beach walk with the locals and their actual pet dogs we haggle back through the carnage to the hostel.

I woke up 13 hours later, head on kindle.