Shits and giggles in Amritsar

The Indians are proud of their railways, and we had been given many a story about how comfortable and reliable they were, so we were a little surprised when our first journey from Delhi north to Amritsar was cut short by 'farmer agitation' on the track and we found ourselves stuck in Lodhiana in what can only be described as chaos. It was like we were in the midst of an evacuation. There were people, and luggage and livestock everywhere. Deciding that it was best to press on rather than be stuck in what looked like a dreary backwater town, we hooked up with some Canadians and tried to find a bus or failing that a taxi that would take us on to Amritsar. Seeing a lorry full of tooled up riot police by the gates made us think that we were either right to get out of the station asap, or that the farmers that were protesting on the track were going to be in for some policing Indian style.

We were feeling pretty pleased with ourselves in squeezed into a hatchback with all our stuff, laughing at how travelling throws up little surprises that enrich the whole experience, sniggering at the 'blow hard' instructions on the back of lorries and amazed by the overloaded trucks we passed by until we got a puncture

Back on the road again we were getting a little worried about what time we would get to Amritsar, and the Canadian couple were getting used to the idea that they wouldn't be making it out to the Pakistani border that night for the closing ceremony when it started to get dark. The driver then pulled over and said that his car had no lights so we would be ending our journey here. It was the safely the closest approximation to the description of the middle of nowhere that I have ever experienced. After some persuasion he drove on, and we soon began to regret persuading him to do so because we spent the next hour driving along on an unmade road without lights or road marking (because the road was being widened), playing chicken with oncoming traffic that couldn't actually see us 'till the last minute.

The Indian driver has just nudged it for us as the worst in the world. No formal training and faith driven fatalism means they drive maniacs. Be they Hindu, Muslim or Sikh, it seems that they are fearless because they believe that what will be, will be, its god's will after all, so they might as well tempt fate as much as possible by driving like its a computer game without genuine consequences.

Finally we made it to our hotel after the longest hour of my life and things took a further turn for the worse with Nicky falling foul of the infamous Delhi Belly as soon as we left Delhi.

She didn't look this excited about a thali for some time

With Nicky in bed I went to do battle with the staff at the station about getting a refund on our train ticket. A very very long afternoon. I spent hours up there getting a bizarre insight into the bureaucratic mess of the IRCTC, caused much confusion (why would a rich gora want a refund?, was the general consensus), got some free chai, had heads wobbled at me alot and left with only a piece of paper saying that I had given them my ticket and that a refund was to be considered. On the way back I stumbled across a massive procession of hare Krishna's partying in tye street to massive sound systems. It was like Notting Hill Carnival but with Bollywood moves and lady boy Hindu Gods, and no knife crime or dancing policemen.

The video isn't the best because I noticed whilst filming it that I was the subject of considerable interest from the locals and was being photographed by people on their mobiles.

The next day Nicky was feeling up to visiting the Golden Temple, and the energy was need to talk to all the friendly Sikhs that were intent on saying hello, and shaking hands with us or practising their limited English. I've never smiled and said hello so many times in such a short space of time. Its funny being in a position where we are regarded as being so exotic. The women and particularly the girls are mesmerised by Nicky, and the men are confused by my hair and beard given that old men in India often hide their greyness by dieing their hair and beards red. Ive been asked if my hair was natural.

Turbans off to the Sikh community. We have been struck by what a friendly decent group of people they are and have the utmost respect for their religion and the way they approach their lives. It is hard not to be impressed by a religion that is as inclusive and tolerant as theirs. The religion emphasizes the importance of several virtues; truth, contentment, love, compassion/mercy, charity, forgiveness, humility, patience. Sikhs attempt to avoid anger, egoism, avarice, lust, infatuation, pride, hatred and hostility. Its bizarre that they are a minority religion in India when the dominant religion Hinduism, in my mind, is so often such a ridiculous affair. I cant get my head round a billion people essentially worshipping cartoon characters.

The Sikhs have also succeeded in making a temple that is one of the most incredible things i have ever seen. The Golden Temple (its clad with 750kg of gold. I never thought I'd see golden rivets) really shocks you with its beauty when you see it, we found ourselves just staring at it, taking in the busy yet serene atmosphere. It built with four doors to show every religion or faith is allowed to go in to meditate or just listen to the prayers for peace. The continuous recital of the holy texts of the Granth Sahib to accompanying tabla and harmonium is quite hypnotic. Even more so when you consider the messages that they are conveying

A rare moment of solitude

The Wagha border is one of the main crossing points between India and Pakistan. Despite the ongoing feuding between the two countries, the border closing ceremony held each day before nightfall is a joyous occasion. It was heartening to see that the road was being widened, so relations cant be that bad if they want to encourage trade and travel between the countries.

We arrived to a carnival atmosphere, and were ushered into the VIP section just because we were foreigners whilst locals fought for the same privilege

The border guards are the tallest Indians you will see, all have 'taches bar none and incredible uniforms designed to give the impression of them being even taller than they are. I'd love to know how the recruitment process works or who designed the uniforms.

There's lots of singing and dancing to famous Bollywood tunes on the Indian side, and people running up and down on the road with massive flags, whilst on the Pakistani side the men and women are separated and much more organised with their relentless chanting. It was more impressive on their side, but looked alot less fun.

After a while the partying stopped and the bizarre closing ceremony started. There was a who can shout the longest and loudest contest, and then some surreal high kicking speed marching before the respective countries' flags are lowered, hands ceremonially shook, and the gates slammed shut to great applause.

Speed marching par excellence