create your own visited countries map

So what really has been going on over here. I guess I haven't written a great deal because England, and London in particular, are jam packed with Aussies. Jaf(f)a's...Just Another F***ing Aussie. In India I felt like I could write about what was going on because I was doing something unusual, but over here I feel like I am doing the same thing as half of Australia.

None the less, I've decided to bore you all and write something.

I moved out of the Duke of Wellington around Christmas, for a variety of reasons, but I guess in general the atmosphere was getting a bit hectic (plus I was picking up too many South Africanisms, hectic being one of them). There is only so long you can live with between 12 and 16 people and get along with everybody, and towards Christmas the atmosphere changed for the worse. To be fair I think it was time to go anyway. I didn't really want to spend all my spare time partying in my own house, although it was quite good fun for six months!

Unfortunately I have moved in with a bunch of over the hill Englishmen and woman who are about as much fun as daytime TV. Well they're not all bad, I guess we all have our own things going on and its just the overall house atmosphere which is a bit of a let down after my previous digs.

I'm beginning to get a bit over Brixton itself. What a hole. You can feel the difference even on the tube...the Victoria line ain't too bad south of Victoria station, but as soon as you reach the home stretch between Stockwell and Brixton, the noise level jumps about 50 decibels as you listen to 100 year old rails screeching in pain. As the train hits the station it jerks violently just as you stand up to get off. And classical music is piped loudly through Brixton station itself to keep out the pimps and ho's (although I'll put my hand up as a bit of a nerd and say I don't mind their selection!) (the music, not the selection of ho's).

The walk out of the station is a gauntlet. I have never made it through without being offered skunk, (in that hideous loud whisper of 'skunk, skunk, hey man, skunk), and I've been asked for spare change by the same bloke with the same bloody story around twenty times. My street itself is quite alright, but the station is a zoo. Still if you are looking for the best crack in London, I have been assured time and time again that I'm at the right place.

Any more observations on the English? Class differences are larger and more obvious than in Australia, from the accents through to where people live. I'm starting to notice that sort of thing a lot more. They even have different classes of supermarket, and I'm not talking about Coles vs Bilo, its really graded over here. I'm learning that London is a completely different kettle of fish to the rest of England - sometimes it feels like you never meet anyone in London who's actually from the place - but some things remain the same throughout the country, eg, chavs and the weather.

Reading over this I worry that I am picking up the English knack for complaining. There are plenty of good things over here...the English countryside is beautiful. It lacks the feel of real wilderness and space you have in Australia but is less harsh and more picturesque. I even found some beautiful beaches over the weekend, and I struggled to believe I hadn't crossed the channel into France or Italy.

I was planning to do some European travelling over the summer (well ok, I still am) but am also hoping to spend plenty of time exploring Britain.

The English people remain a decent lot, once you get to know them, although having said that one of my housemates got knifed over the weekend in a club that I was at the other week, and he's had 36 stitches to put his ear back together. He's not sure, but thinks he may have looked at somebody the wrong way.

The last six months in photos...

A trip to Amsterdam I don't remember too well
Seeing Dita Von Tease ...

John came to visit:I don't remember that too well either

We went to Stonehenge

And Bath

I finally moved out of the legendary Duke of Wellington


And into 'Sunny' Brixton

I received a rousing welcome




Me and John spent two weeks travelling through Dublin, Rome, Florence, Paris & Amsterdam (again!) with Mum, Dad and Dan - great to catch up with the family.

Spent New Years in Paris with John



The other highlight was watching Dan attack Eurodisney mascots:
And voila! Six months gone like that.

Hope everyone is well back in Oz. I'm planning on writing more regularly in my blog now that I live in a normal house with my own space and time.

Right now the only vacation photos I have are some pictures I took with the intention of making John look as ridiculous as possible. See the results for yourself here. The rest of my photos should be up in a week or so.

Update - the rest of my photos are up now at http://www.flickr.com/photos/lamoney/

The first thing I saw on leaving Edinburgh train station was a bearded man wearing a kilt, playing bagpipes, with a sign around his neck saying “Welcome to Scotland”. Clearly, these Scots had a great sense of humour.

Actually, what I liked most about Scotland was that the people were still Scottish. For instance, you see different guys on the street randomly wearing kilts, and not just punks either. Haggis isn’t something you have to go to great lengths to find – people actually eat the stuff (and it’s tastier than it sounds). And the accent – well, I had no idea what half of them were saying a lot of the time, but I liked it. The people are much friendlier than Trainspotting led me to believe, with no Begby’s threatening to glass me. Instead, they were generally quite friendly.

The festival was great fun. There was a real atmosphere around the main performance areas, with tons of buskers, actors promoting their shows, musicians playing kerbside gigs, and other random events. Although you’d probably get sick of it all going on for a month if you lived there, for four days it was brilliant. I managed to catch about eight shows plus a couple of music gigs, with most of what I saw being pretty decent, and the music excellent. I caught up with some people I knew from college and had too many late nights, although never as late as the Irish people I shared my dorm with, who seemed particularly fond of getting back at 5.30 in the morning and shagging quietly in the corner.

Other than the festival, just exploring Edinburgh was pretty cool. Climbed Arthur’s seat, basically a big cliff on the edge of town. Toured the castle. Got lost in the wee hours of the morning. All good. It’s a much, much more attractive town than London, they’ve managed to maintain a great deal of their older buildings and refrained from building too many newer monstrosities. Aside from the new parliament building, which looks like a bad rip-off of Federation Square, without the square, and somehow cost the Scots a billion pounds.

Some photos are up here.

Today will probably be the hottest day ever in the UK. Which isn't too bad by Australian standards, but it will in the high 30's so hot enough. Catching the tube is a nightmare - apparently it got up to 47 on some of the trains yesterday, and up to 52 on buses.

Unfortunately, with perfect timing my bike was stolen last night, so I was on the tube this morning. I left my bike locked up while I went to see a movie last night, and 3 hours later it was long gone. Bikes go pretty quickly in London. So I'll most likely head down to Brick Lane market on Sunday and pick up a bike stolen off some other poor bugger, thereby completing the stolen bike circle of life.

If everybody in London refused to buy a stolen bike then we wouldn't have this problem, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be the first one. Wouldn't reduce my chances of having my bike stolen any (unless I believed in karma). Someone could probably write a decent economics essay on how Londoners screw each other over by all buying stolen bikes.

Can check out where I live if you're really keen:

http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&hl=en&q=sw112eg&ie=UTF8&t=k&om=1&ll=51.466527,-0.174075&spn=0.002887,0.010729

The white building slightly above where the arrow is pointing.

Did you vote for this man?

Apologies for the below post sittting there rather cryptically for the past few weeks. My boss at my new workplace was the owner of that particular quote. Considering we work for a rather well known firm, and he is in charge of around 100 odd people, I thought it worth remembering.

I expected the high-flying world of English finance to be a pretty fast-moving, hard-working place. So far, I've seen a lot of people down at the pub at lunchtime, a fair few people checking out page 3 every day, and a hell of a lot of slack days. I have a feeling its partially due to my department being sold off to another group fairly soon, but its still been quite a big change compared to Macquarie back home.

Aside from the very dull job, everything else here has been going well. Managed to get 120 people through the house the weekend before last for one of my housemates birthdays. Excellent party, a few too many South African accents from what I remember, but all in all quite good. Suffered massive memory loss, but apparently some point in the morning was found trying to crawl into the barbecue to go to sleep. Don't remember it but found my shoes down there the next day.

Last weekend headed to Hyde Park to enjoy the sunshine. The parks here are fantastic when the weather is fine, simply because they are so well-used. As soon as the sun even hints that it might be up behind the clouds the English get out there. Shirts come off, bikinis come on, beers come out and everyone has a jolly good time. I even managed to do a bit of rowing on Hyde Park Lake and felt very English indeed.

Obviously the huge event over here at the moment is the world cup. We might all think of Americans as the biggest flag wavers around but the English certainly give them a run for their money come world cup...cars, windows, shirts, papers, ads...St George crosses everywhere. Happily I'm currently winning the tipping competition at work. All my free time has given me plenty of chances to study up on teams. Also managed to develop a minor gambling habit but haven't picked any winners yet. Hoping to see Argentina win it as I put a few quid on them early on. And have tipped Australia to qualify for the second round so will be down at the pub watching them beat Croatia tomorrow night.

As long as we keep getting paid who cares a shit

London.

I've just passed the fortnight mark in London now so I suppose I can start writing a little about how its been.

Photo on the right is of me and Sarah when we went out with Simon who was in town for a little while. Sarah was nice enough to let me stay on her sofa the first few days I was here, while Tim was in Poland.

I have had some success finding a place. Although it is still in Clapham Junction, its in the part that I have come to think of as the wrong side of the tracks. Literally, you take one exit out of Clapham and its a tacky but reasonable little shopping centre and a fairly normal street. The other side (literally across the rails) is somewhat dodgier, with gangs of happy slappers and Essex girls roaming the streets, looking for cheap thrills. I'm going to be staying in a converted pub in this area, which is home to about a dozen people of various nationalities, and looks like it should be fun. I probably could have gone for something a little more sensible...but I thought, I'm 25, how many other times (and I really hope there aren't too many) will I be able to stay in a place like this? It should be good for a few months at least. Hopefully I'll come out of it with a few 'He Died with a Falafel in his Hand' experiences. I move in this Wednesday.

At the moment I'm still at Tim's. He's lucky enough to have a great balcony on his top floor. Good spot to sit when the weather is nice or to watch the stars at night. At any one time there'll be at a half dozen aircraft coming and going through the sky. I also get a great view of the council flats that will soon be my neighbours. Luckily, the place I'm moving into has a roof that you can get up to via a rope ladder on the top floor. The guy who showed me around mentioned they are planning to attach a pulley to the chimney so as to be able to get a barbie going up there.

I've had a few quality English moments. Walked into a pub the other day full of Celtic supporters, had one enormous beetroot-faced fellow up on a table singing football songs. The guy and his huge red nose attempted conversation later on but I could not make out a single word he said. With a fifty year old matron behind the bar and the footy on TV it was pretty much what I expected. I love it when countries conform to stereotypes.

I have been exploring some South London areas over the past week while looking for a place to live. In many of the areas I feel like there is a real frustration or desperation, a bit of an air of violence. Its strange, because compared to India, people here have everything. The disparities in wealth are nothing in comparison...people will be living in a cardboard box in a slum with an empty stomach and the same country has more millionaires than anywhere else in the world. But you rarely see the same anger back in India.

I would like to be able to suggest why that is but I can't think of anything simple enough. Anyway, there is sometimes a bit of a sinister feel on some of the streets here, which can be a little unnerving.

This was pretty much France. Far too much red wine going around.

I've now arrived in London. I got off the airplane and was shocked by cold, grey, windy, wet weather. Who would have thought London would be like this?

I don't know what I've gotten myself into.

London seems very ugly after being in some of France's most beautiful cities the last couple of weeks.

Still, it was nice to go out last night and be able to speak English. Not that I minded the French - actually I enjoyed trying to speak it and had picked up a little.

I suppose this is pretty much the end of my travelling for now. Time to settle down, find a job and an apartment, sort out a bank account....so much to look forward to I don't know where to start.

Everyone back in Oz is welcome to come visit. Hope I see you soon.

Cheers.

France

So I have been out of India for a week and a day. I have stopped saying 'huh' (like yeah in Hindi) when people talk to me, and am doing less head waggling then I was, which I'm thankful for as I look quite ridiculous doing it in France.

I spent about five days in Paris, which I quite enjoyed. People on the street kept talking to me in French, so I was quite flattered to be mistaken for a local! The fashion and the people are incredible - some beautiful people on the street.

It was a nice change to be able to walk the streets without car horns and cow shit to worry about. And to be able to appreciate the scenery in relative peace.

Still, I do miss India quite a bit.

I left Paris and headed to Marseille, where I stayed just a day, then came to Nice. Marseille was alright, I joined in a protest march with some striking workers which wasted a few hours. Striking is France's national hobby after all. No tear gas or burning cars, disappointingly, after watching some of the scenes of other protests here on TV.

I'm now in Nice, which is a beautiful little spot on the Riviera. The Meditarannean is just beautiful, although I hate the pebble beaches. Plenty of beautiful women who left their tops at home - if that was to happen in India, there'd be riots (well, excepting Goa).

Yesterday I travelled to Monaco with some people from the hostel which was interesting. I mean, its a nice spot, but there are more beautiful places in the world. The casino is a nice building, but full of old people who've had too much plastic surgery. The beach was ok, but not spectacular. I can't understand why people would spend millions to live there. I suppose to be seen. Like a big old retirement home for the ultra rich and ultra stupid.

I did enjoy walking around the parking lots. I have never seen so many Ferraris, Lamborghini's and Bentleys. Must be the only city in the world where People driving Porsches seemed poor.

I arrived in Paris today.

I spent the past couple of days with some friends of my parents in Mumbai, Shobahn and his family.

What a city. Beautiful in comparison with Delhi with lots of beautiful colonial architecture coupled with some equally great Indian buildings (I have to be PC, after all).

They took me around to see some of the sites but the highlight had to be some of the fantastic restaurants. I hadn't eaten so well since I got to India. Still have memories of the seafood. Good memories, not the normal recurrences of previous meals I had had on many, many other occassions in India. I'll put up some photos some other point, but at the moment I'm being ripped off for internet time at my hostel here.

So I have now arrived in Paris. I am missing India. Started when I changed $200 for a measly 100 euros. Probably last me little more than two days, whereas in India I could have travelled about for who knows how long with such a fortune.

Continued on the train. In the city of love I was lucky enough to be sitting directly behind a couple of young, lovers kissing very noisily. Such public displays of affection are unheard of in India, and I hadn't realised how much you appreciate that when you're a young single man in a bad mood! It was all I could do to stop myself yelling out a bad french translation of 'get a room!'. Instead, I concentrated on the sky outside, which matched my mood with a resolute grey.

I am back in the same hostel I stayed in three years ago, wearing half the same clothes, paying as much to hire sheets and a towel as I would for two nights in my own room in India. I'm not appreciating suddenly being one of the worst dressed people on the street, compared to India where I looked halfway decent.

I'm sure after a glass of red and a baguette my mood will improve.

Georgia had to travel back to Australia suddenly so for the time being I will be travelling by myself. I don't know where I'll be heading. I have some friends in Belgium, Holland and Germany I'd like to visit.

Hope everyone back home is doing well.

Tom

I haven't written for a while. The past couple of weeks I went first to Agra and the Taj Mahal, then up to Rishikesh in the mountains.

I'll write about the Taj when I'm in a position to upload the photos.

Rishikesh was brilliant. Its up in the mountains about 7 hours north of Delhi, in Uttrachnal. The city is situated in a valley with the Ganga running through it. On either bank sit temples and ashrams, which attracts a lot of the hippie crowd and quite a few plain freaks. But some of the people there are great and I had a really good time.

I arrived about 4.30am by bus. Incidentally, the bus was due to depart at 9.30 at night. I was on the bus at 9.30. But buses here hate to take off when their not full. So there I sat, along with some more and more aggravated Indians, waiting for the driver to fill his bus. One extremely old ex-army Indian guy was really getting worked up, walking up and down the bus cursing and reducing everyone else to laughter. Eventually we left at about 12.30apm.

So I got in around 4.30, with no idea where to stay or where I was. I got ripped off by a rickshaw driver, which I'm quite used to by now, who took me to one hotel that had only one extremely expensive room. So I left. On the way out, I ran into a German guy Thomas, who had been on the same bus and was really pretty drunk. Thomas is one of those guys who gives every impression of being completely gay, and at first I was a little worried he was cracking on to me, and wasn't really so keen about him trying to find a hotel with me. But on the other hand I wasn't so keen on wandering the city by myself in the dead early morning. Later I found out he was married with kids, which I found hard to believe but have to admit was also a big relief. Actually he runs tours in India and Africa for Germans and was just hanging around Rishikesh for a couple of days before his next tour started. It was good to hang around with someone with a bit of knowledge of India. I was with him and some other friends of his for the next few days.

My first day in Rishikesh I explored the town and enjoyed the cooking. Heaps of Nepali chefs who seem particularly good at making mexican, so I enjoyed having burritoes for the first time in many months. There are heaps of Sadhus also - sort of Hindi wandering monks I suppose, people who are supposed to have given up the material life and wander the country meditating and living the life of an ascetic. Many of them, at least in Rishikesh, are supposed to also be people on the run from the law. Apparently its a long tradition in India for thieves to adopt the saffron robes of a Sadhu as a disguise for getting around the country. You see the occassional lost Westerner trying to imitate the dress, growing their dreadlocks, not shaving and adopting a spiritual grimace. Amusing.

Second day I did some rafting and went for a few swims in the Ganges, which is beautifully fresh and clean when its so close to the Himalayas. Big contrast to the sorry state it was in in Varanassi.

Third day we rented motorbikes and explored some mountains and temples in the areas.

Then for the next five days I did some trekking. It was great to get into rural India. I headed to a little place about 6 hours further north, in what I suppose is the Indian part of the Himalayas, with a guide and a Israeli woman. I loved some of the road signs along the way:

"After whisky,
driving is risky"

"Not a race or a rally,
Take it easy, enjoy the valley.
Remember God."

"Life is God's gift."

"Slippery road ahead. Please slow down."
And 50 metres later:
"Thanks"

Actually I'm reminded of a great sign on the bus seats in Delhi:

"Look under your seat.
There might be a bomb.
Report to driver, earn reward."

Which always sounds to me like some sort of really messed up Haiku.

Anyway, we were hiking in an area a couple of thousand metres up and extremely cold. The life that the people live up there is pretty rough. Most have no electricity or running water, and live in pretty basic huts with perhaps a cooking fire at night to keep them warm. I was there in mid March and it was really just freezing once the sun went down, and these people without heaters and half without shoes. They seem to keep themselves warm by working extremely hard. Every night I had to go to bed at 8 simply because it was too cold to stay out.

We spent a few days doing some pretty tough walking first up to a high altitude lake, Devital, then from there to a famous temple a few hours walk from a town called Chopta. This temple was like something from a movie - perched on a mountain top 3600 metres up, abandoned because of the cold when we were there, and covered in several feet of snow. Really breathtaking views. You can imagine how it might be a good place for achieving some sort of spiritual enlightenment. You certainly feel closer to God up there.

Our guide was great as were the people we stayed with. My Hindi's improved a lot over the past month. I'm now an expert curser and can understand when I'm being insulted, which is handy when taking rickshaws.

Anyway I returned to Rishikesh and spent one more day enjoying that peaceful town, before returning last night to the post-apocalyptic nightmare that is Delhi.

I was reading a magazine in Delhi this morning. Tips for weight loss for Delhiites:

"If you own a dog, try taking him for a walk yourself, rather than sending your servant.

Similarly, if you have to go out for water, rather than sending your peon, go yourself."

Peon. I couldn't believe it.

So, I take the train to Mumbai tomorrow, before heading to France Wednesday night.

I am completely over sitting on buses and trains. In the past two weeks, I have spent, without exaggeration, about 20% of my time going from one place to another. And I have another 20 hours tomorrow on the train before another 14 odd hours on the plane.

Still, the past few weeks I have done some great travelling, and I'm not really looking forward to settling down in London.

Last night, after writing my last post, it finally rained. And what rain - a real tropical storm. I was out buying train tickets at Okhla station, and while I waiting it started raining. After fifteen minutes, the streets around the station were flooded. The dirt roads had at least a few inches of water rushing down them.

Some of the power lines must have been knocked out, so the whole area around the station was blacked out. I ended up wading through ankle deep water with who knows what floating through it in the dark. Serves me right for wishing it would rain.

Only three more days of work left here. Although I'm looking forward to heading on to Europe, there are a lot of things I'll miss about living in India.

Definitely the rickshaws. I'm come to enjoy zippng around in the little gizmos. Bargaining I'll be glad to see the end of. But I'm sure I'll miss them next time I'm forced to pay for a taxi.

General lifestyle. Very relaxed at work here. I'm sure its not the same for all people in India, or every job, but in general, I think it would be fair to say that most Indians have a pretty relaxed attitude when it comes to work. Even when its busy, its rarely particularly stressed.

The music. Amazingly, its grown on me, I could never imagine liking the high pitched Bollywood tunes before I came.

The weather. At the moment, its perfect. I can't imagine Europe will match it, even though its coming in to Spring. I do miss it raining once in a while though...twice a month, at least, would be nice. I've seen it rain three times only here, and only once particularly heavily.

Of course, there are some things I can't wait to leave behind.

The bureaucracy. For instance, buying a train ticket. I am impressed at how extremely difficult they have managed to make such a simple act. Bloody nightmare. Don't get me started.

Crossing the street. Traffic in general. Another bloody nightmare. Don't get me started, again.

The dust, noise, pollution. Nightmarish. Can't wait to leave that behind. London will seem untouched in comparison to Delhi.

Looking different. Don't get me started. Well, actually, I should explain this one. Sometimes its good to be a 'gora' here. Its great, for instance, because you can get into a shopping mall, nice hotel, or nightclub, even if you forgot to have a shower this morning, haven't shaved in a week and are wearing you're worst, moth-eaten t-shirt. It's still assumed you probably have cash. On the other hand, because people assume you have cash, you of course get the touts and the rip offs. More than that though, it can be tiring to always be looked at as different. Sometimes its nice to blend in and not feel self-conscious.

The food. Bloody nightmarish. Actually, I don't mind the food, but four is an unlucky number and I needed one more to round it out to five. I am definitely looking forward to some good pastas, baguettes and coffees.

I haven't written an update for a while...I haven't been on too many trips lately, just hanging around in Delhi. I was going to go to Agra last weekend but one of my wisdom teeth was playing up and I had to get it pulled which was very pleasant.

I'm still enjoying life here. The house has been good, lots of cultural exchange going on. For instance, last night Mauri shared some Napolitan wisdom with us all: "A woman without tits is like a man with no balls." I'm pretty sure that particular Italian proverb dates back to Roman times.

Bush is over here now making bad nuclear deals with India, there is a lot of protesting going on which has apparently been disrupting traffic, but to be honest in a city this big I noticed no change.

Yesterday I got fitted for a suit. I'm sure to make a splash when I arrive in London with some custom-made Indian threads.

I have only one week left of work. I'm not sure what I'll be doing after that. I'm tempted to head down to Goa. I fly out of India on the 30th of March, so I've got about three weeks. This weekend I'm headed to the Taj Mahal.

Completely unrelated to my trip, but I got a letter published in the International Herald Tribune today, which I'm sure is uninteresting to everyone but my parents. Anyhow, you can read it here. The original article I was commenting on is here.

First weekend for a while that I stayed in Delhi. We had a little launch event for a comic and film on forests Saturday night so I had to stick around for that.

Sunday I went to the 'Great Indian Rock Concert', which wasn't great, but was ok.

Unfortunately the international act that was there, Sweden's Freak Kitchen, were a terrible heavy metal group, and were supported by several equally terrible Indian heavy metal groups. I enjoyed seeing rebellious Delhi teenagers dressed up in their coolest heavy metal clothes (plenty of Iron Maiden fans keeping the spirit alive in India).

There were a couple of other bands which were ok, sounding something like The Strokes and also playing several of their covers.

The highlight was seeing 20 Indian bikies arriving on their fat motorcycles in synch with each other...they all rode up to park at the same time, roared their engines for a minute or so, then got off their bikes and started posing.

Sanchi

sanchi gate 1
Originally uploaded by lamoney.

Sanchi was the destination last weekend, a small village in Madhya Pradesh (central India) famous for its Buddhist shrines built around 200 BC.

After a marathon 14 hour train trip and 2 hour bus ride, we arrived. It was nice to get out of the Indian cities - Sanchi was a lot more laid back and you didn't have to deal with touts and other hassles.

Click on the photo to see more photos from Sanchi. Again, they're Kate's not mine, still haven't gotten a camera.

The shrines were good but not what I was expecting. The famous 'stupas' are basically big domes made out of bricks, surrounded by impressively carved gates. But you can't go inside them; they are something like pyramids, apparently filled in aside from tombs which are possibly inside depending on who I asked, but in any case not visitable. To be honest I left quite confused about what the hell their purpose was. I don't think the people there were really sure why they were built either. There were also some ruins of temples which looked very similar to Greek temples, and the foundations of a few monasteries.

It was a nice spot with some beautiful country around and a few of the ever-present monkeys hanging about scaring tourists.

We briefly saw Bhopal on the way back, a town famous for one of the world's worst ecological disasters, the leaking of some poison gas by a Union Carbide factory (us owned firm) caused by inadequate maintenance and cost cutting. More than 30,000 people died, and about half a million were left with permanent serious health damage which in many cases has been passed on to their children.

Aside from that, it was a pretty city with a lovely lake.

This weekend I'm taking a break and sticking around in Delhi. I've started a Yoga course which has been fun; in the house, we've got a new Japanese girl in, Ruth & Susannah have left, and Kate is leaving this weekend; and at work, we've got a book launch on Saturday night. Oh, and I'm going to an Indian rock concert Sunday. That's about it. Oh and its starting to get damn hot.

Last weekend I headed to Gwalior with Kate, whose photos I have selfishly claimed as my own; they are posted here.

Gwalior is in Madhya Pradesh, central India. The town wasn't really too special, but they did have a nice fort with some good views.

Gwalior is not really on the tourist map; I saw only a couple of other foreigners in the town the whole time I was there. While this can be a good thing, you tend to get a lot more attention than you might in more frequented parts of India. Everyone will say hello, laugh at you, joke about you. Sound good? On a hot day when you are doing a lot of walking, you get really sick of it and start to wish you could just blend in. Some of the people are good natured (especially in villages etc) but some of them just take the piss. It is ten times worse if you are with a girl. I know plenty of Indians who treat girls with respect; but a lot of the men here are terrible. Staring, whistling, making kissy noises, and groping girls here is common and frequently happens to all my housemates. They would never treat an Indian girl this way, but for some reason western girls are fair game. If any Indians can tell me why this is, please do. And tell me also if you think I'm wrong and Indian girls get treated the same way.

Possibly its dress? The funny thing is I consider the Sari to be much more revealing than a tshirt and jeans...you've got your whole stomach and your side showing, jeans and tshirt is just your arms. Saris are great here I have to say; you'd never catch a western woman over 35 wearing one because of the way they seem to cause your stomach to spill out over your front and your love handles to be more visible than other...but Indian woman don't seem to mind the spare tyre look, and the older woman get, the more common Saris become.

I've also posted up some photos of a going away get-together we had for a couple of my housemates, Ruth & Susanne.