You are the walking girl, yes?

If you ever want proof that different states in India are like different countries, each with their own unique landscapes, culture and language, all you need to do is board a flight from Delhi to Kochi in Kerala.

After disembarking from the plane, I was met in Kochi by clear skies, lush greenery and an astounding lack of hassle. Imagine a pre-paid taxi service that involves no shouting or shoving! You simply go to the counter in the airport, pay the fee and take your receipt to the taxi with the corresponding numberplate to your ticket. Amazing!

After frantic sight seeing in Delhi and Agra, I decided I wanted to just stay put and chill out somewhere nice for a couple of weeks. I certainly picked the right location in Fort Cochin. I really enjoyed the few days I spent in Fort Cochin nine years ago, but the area is even more traveler friendly now. Fort Cochin sits at the top of a peninsula, about a 30 minute drive from the heart of the city in Kochi. Its somewhat isolated location, colonial buildings, beautiful churches and lovely tree-lined streets combine to make Fort Cochin a gorgeous oasis of calm.

My cheap room at the Princess Inn (Rs 400, or $8 per night) meant that over the last two weeks in Fort Cochin I have had no problem staying within my daily budget whilst still managing to extensively sample the outstanding local cuisine. Usually when travelling, most places you eat are OK and you may find one really great place in a particular location. It is, however, rare to find restaurants or stalls offering the holy trifecta of great food, great value and great atmosphere. The latter is particularly valuable to me as I prefer to linger after my meal reading for a few hours. Well Fort Cochin has not one, but four different establishments that fulfill the trifecta! : Kashi Art Cafe, Teapot, Shala and Dal Roti.

Kashi is a gallery/cafe with excellent westernised breakfasts, lunches, outstanding coffee and the best Chai Masala I have had in my life. A typical Kashi meal for me: French toast (two slices of home baked brown bread french toast topped with wild honey and coupled with a huge plate of sliced tropical fruits) and a cold coffee (tall glass of expresso over ice with a side jug of milk and pot of sugar syrup that you add to the glass).

Teapot is a lovely themed cafe catering to western tastes. Tables are made from modified tea chests, clusters of teacups dangle over doorways and the walls are filled with shelves overflowing with teapots. Apart from an amazing array of teas, teapot also does a scrumptious cheese and chicken omelet as well as a pretty decent chocolate cake.

I know people always go on and on about how good South Indian food is, but to be honest I never understood why. I now realise that the problem was that up until this trip, I had never had good South Indian food.

Shala is run by the same people as Kashi and it shows. This restaurant however, is only open for dinner and serves delicious Keralan cuisine prepared by local women. The vegetarian special changes each night and may feature: A beautifully spiced black bean curry accompanied, thali style, by small side dishes of hot pickle, dhal, shredded vegetables and red rice. The heat of the vegetable special is perfectly offset by the cucumber mint lemon cooler drink on offer  - which is even more refreshing than it sounds.

If you want an indication of how good Dal Roti is, you just need to look at the queue out the front. Its dinner service starts at 6:30pm and there are always at least 4 groups of people waiting to get a table by 6:40. With a large menu of delicious Northern Indian influenced cuisine, generous servings, a menu containing a helpful glossary and an extremely friendly owner, Dal Roti lives up to its excellent reputation. The night rush makes me feel guilty about lingering over my kindle so I prefer to visit Dal Roti for lunch. My lunch of choice? A paneer & mixed vegetable kati roll (a fried flat bread wrapped around fried, spiced cheese and sweetly spiced vegetables) accompanied by a ginger lime soda. Mmmm.....I have eaten and discussed books with the owner of Dal Roti so many times on this trip that he gave me my last meal for free. Now that's customer service!

To offset this non stop eating, I have been going for daily walks and occasionally engaging in some yoga-like stretching. My daily 6 am walk is when I most feel like a local in Fort Cochin. Why the ungodly hour of 6 am? Well Fort Cochin is many things, but bearable when you are more than 2 metres away from a fan during daylight hours is not one of them. On my first afternoon in this leafy neck of the woods, I nearly gave myself heat stroke by exploring the local streets on foot for two hours. Returning to the hotel drenched in sweat, and with alarmingly swollen hands, I knew I would have to plan any future exercise at a cooler time of day.

My daily morning stroll takes me along the waterfront, past the fishmongers and the outstretched wooden arms of the enormous Chinese fishing nets, hovering above the low tide like giant praying mantises. The tree-lined footpath is full of other early bird walkers and locals who like to do their yoga stretches with a view. South Indian people are far more reserved that their northern countrymen, and it took a week before the familiar morning faces started to say hello to me as I walked past.

Twenty minutes into my walk I run out of waterfront and head inland. This part of the stroll takes me past the naval yards and down back streets where women smile at me as they collect water from the local pump. The last stretch of my morning amble takes me past the local sports field, which usually contains at least three of the following: men playing cricket, boys having soccer training, friends playing badminton and goats grazing on the few remaining tufts of grass surrounding the field.

In two weeks I have yet to see another foreigner on my morning walk and I think this may have contributed to my own local celebrity. Over the last week several of my interactions with shopkeepers have begun with, "You are the walking girl, yes?". Well...I've been called worse.

A teardrop on the cheek of eternity

My decision nine years ago, to not visit the Taj Mahal during three months spent in India, is one that some people have found difficult to understand. My mistake last time was planning to see the Taj near the end of my time in India. As the end of that trip grew nearer, two factors played into my decision to avoid Agra. Firstly, I did not have the energy left to face the inevitable hassle that would go with visiting one of the most popular tourist destinations on the planet. Secondly, I knew by then that I would definitely be coming back to India again in the future.

Making my way out of Agra Cantonment train station last week, I realised that even I (an experienced traveller of the sub continent) had not fully anticipated just how insane the welcome at Agra was going to be. In the already crowded station, hundreds of men swarmed on all the foreigners, shouting in our faces, pushing,  shoving us towards waiting taxis. Even my silent death stare, coupled with a purposeful stride towards the pre-paid taxi stand, did little to put off the persistent touts who stuck to my side like white on rice.

If anything the screaming, shouting and shoving actually got worse in front of the pre-paid taxi stand and as the crowd reached a new crescendo the utter absurdity of the situation hit me and I started to laugh hysterically. A french woman near me, whom I suspect thought I was mad, looked like she was going to have stroke while waiting for her nearby husband to negotiate a ride to town. I tried to distract her from the scene by asking her how long she had been in India and then understood her terrified look when she responded "Today is the first day".

My first view of the majestic Taj came at sunset on that first day. I ascended several staircases to a roof top restaurant, and literally gasped when I saw the stunning view of the marble monument captured in the pinkish glow of the afternoon light. If you have seen the movie Aladdin, you may remember the scene when Aladdin takes Jasmine up to his makeshift home on the rooftop, pulls back a sheet and reveals a stunning view across the dilapidated rooftops of the city to the glorious palace. My first view of the Taj Mahal reminded me a lot of that scene. The monument is completely mesmerising, especially in the rapidly changing twilight, and I was shocked to discover after I finished my chai masala that I had been staring at the gorgeous view for nearly an hour.

From the vantage point of the roof top restaurant, it soon became obvious that the local wildlife almost matched the number of tourists in Agra. Hundreds of monkeys, or as I have come to think of them disease spreading beasts of satan, scurried from roof to roof scavenging scraps from the abundant waste in the area. The tiny alleys surrounding the Taj Mahal are also home to hundreds of emaciated, snarling stray dogs which made the "focused walking" required to get back to my hotel just that bit more challenging.

I must say that Agra is the first place in India where I have really been struck by the appalling poverty that many in this great nation have to endure. There is immense poverty all around India and to be honest it has never really affected me before. I don't know why the dire living conditions appalled me so much in Agra, perhaps it was the striking juxtaposition of the opulence of the Taj and the revolting open sewers of the surrounding streets...

My second day in Agra started early as I went to visit the Taj Mahal in the dawn light. It was pleasing to see that the Indian Archeological Society is putting the large foreigner entry fee (about $15) to good use, as the entire Taj Mahal complex is beautifully maintained. In some ways, walking through the stunning ornamental gardens towards the Taj felt like returning to a place I had visited many times before. You see so many photos of the gorgeous marble structure, surrounded by perfectly symmetrical gardens and watercourses, that at first you think there is little to surprise you. It is only once you get up close that the astoundingly detailed craftsmanship reveals itself.

In photographs the Taj often appears as a solid white block of a building. Up close, however, you can see the individual pearly grey swirls that differentiate each marble brick from its neighbours. Similarly you need to see the intricately carved marble screens, the calligraphic quotations from the Quran made with inlaid jasper and the amazingly detailed pietra dura (flower designs inlaid in the marble with semi precious stones) of the main chamber to fully appreciate that over 20,000 craftsmen from all over India were involved in creating the most beautiful building on earth.

The symmetry of the design is also hugely impressive as the four faces of the Taj are perfectly identical. Every tree and shrub on the west side of the ornamental garden is mirrored on the east side and the beautiful red sandstone mosque on the west side of the Taj is matched by an identical structure on the east side that exists solely to balance the symmetry of the complex.

The Taj Mahal was built on the banks of the Yamuna River by Shah Jahan in the middle of the 17th century. Built as a memorial to his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, the emperor said it made 'the sun and moon shed tears from their eyes'. Given that Mumtaz Mahal died giving birth to the couple's 14th child, I personally think that building a monument described by Rabindranath Tagore as 'a teardrop on the cheek of eternity' was the least the emperor could do to honor his late wife.

A surprising highlight of my time in Agra was visiting the magnificent ancient fortified city of Fatehpur Sikri which lies 40km west of Agra. Overlooked my many tourists who just do a day trip to the Taj, the red sandstone city of Fatehpur Sikri was built by the Emperor Akbar in the 16th century and is a World Heritage site in its own right. The city with its three palaces and gob-smakingly beautiful Jama Masjid mosque is still in near perfect condition as the ancient city was abandoned not due to earthquakes, but rather lack of water in the local region. The immense mosque, with its stunning 54m high Buland Darwaza (victory gate), is now on par with the Umayyad  Mosque in Damascus for the title of "most awe inspiring place of worship" I have ever seen.

As it turned out, the ancient architecture on offer more than made up for the hassles and sanitation (or rather lack there of) in Agra. With the one item on my "must see" list for this trip to India officially ticked off, I was happily looking forward to a less frantic environment down south.

Who is the fairest of them all?

When I stepped out of the terminal at the Indira Ghandi airport a few days ago, there was no mistaking where in the world I was. The warm heavy air that cloaked me, making it an effort to even sweat, was full of the scents of incense and sewerage as well as the sounds of drumming, chanting and the shouting of taxi drivers. Welcome to India!

I always treat myself to a nice hotel when I first arrive in a country, and Wood Castle was indeed a lovely oasis of air conditioned tranquility in the midst of Delhi mayhem. The staff were so considerate that it didn't take me long to forget the predictably frustrating taxi ride that I had taken through the dark backstreets of Delhi to get there. It is good to know that withholding payment until you see the sign of your chosen hotel, coupled with suggestions that we ask the local police for directions when the driver takes you to several different hotels claiming he can't find your chosen hotel, still seems to be an effective tactic nine years after my first visit to India.

My first task in Delhi was to head across town to the Khan Market to purchase some locally appropriate attire. I was not looking forward to the inevitable hassle of negotiating an auto-rickshaw ride to get there but luckily for me Delhi has invested in some excellent new public transport since I was last in town.

Ode to Delhi Metro

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thy easy to follow network map.
My soul soars at thy set, fair prices (30 rupees, 80 cents, to get right across Delhi and back)
I love the efficiency of thy service
Which arrives every few minutes.
My old griefs, with groping men,
Are long forgotten in the face of thy
Glorious air conditioned women only carriages!
Oh Delhi Metro
Thou dost bring a smile to this traveler's heart.


I felt much more comfortable, in both a temperature and cultural sense, when I donned my newly purchased salwar kameez from the lovely Anokhi store (thanks for the tip Beck). Now, appropriately attired, I felt ready to tackle Delhi's Old City for a spot of sight seeing.

Wandering around the lovely gardens surrounding the Red Fort, I had the opportunity to practise both my deflecting attention and wildlife spotting skills. The gardens were full of equal numbers of birds, scurrying squirrels and overly friendly males and it wasn't long before I headed off to the Museum of India's Struggle for Independence to brush up on my history.

On my walk through Chadni Chowk, past the stunning Jama Masjid Mosque, on my way to Karim's (thanks for the excellent restaurant tip Kate & Vas!) I got to practise another skill essential for survival in India. I like to call it 'Focused Walking'. The frantic, crowded and chaotic streets around Chadni Chowk are no place for a gentle stroll listening to your ipod. I know what you're thinking: "It's just walking down the street. Stick to the footpath, how hard can it be?".

Well, firstly there often is no footpath (or if there is, it is usually blocked by stacked merchandise, or street carts spitting hot oil as their owners fry some local delicacy). You try to hug the kerb, but you don't want to get too close lest you accidentally step in the open sewer that is the gutter. So you are walking on the road amid other pedestrians, cows, auto rickshaws, trucks, cars, and (most dangerous of all) cycle rickshaws.

Much of your attention is spent checking how close cycle wheels are to your right leg. A cycle wheel narrowly missing your right leg it is not actually a cause for celebration. This is because it means you are probably about to be clipped by the, much wider, back wheel and carriage of a cycle rickshaw. Your usual reliance on sound as a cue for approaching vehicles is also next to useless as every driver eases their passage through the congestion my keeping their hand on the horn.

The obstacles to a safe journey that I have outlined above are those faced by all pedestrians in India's crowded cities. But as a foreigner, there are some extra ingredients added to the chaotic mix. You have eager salespeople stepping in front of you, desperately trying to sell you their wares: "Madam! Postcard? You like jewelry? Very cheap! Just look". You have overly friendly staring males trying to "accidentally" bump into you. And, most annoyingly of all, you have rickshaw drivers nearly running you over: "Madam! Where are you going? Metro station? It is very far. My rickshaw very cheap!"

You can see why I call it "Focused Walking". Whilst it is certainly more draining than a stroll around the block in Sydney (you often feel exhausted after moving just a few hundred metres) the trick is to actually try to relax.   If you are too cautious, stopping all the time, you are much more likely to get into trouble than if you concentrate but just try to go with the flow and keep moving. Though it certainly doesn't seem like it at first sight, Indian drivers are quite adept at weaving around moving targets. Stopping is much more hazardous as the drivers don't know where you are going next.

After all of that "Focused Walking" I felt I had earned the luxury of a room service meal in front of the TV in my air conditioned room that night. In my nine year absence from the country I had forgotten about India's (or a certain section of India's) obsession with skin lightening creams. Every second ad on TV was for some skin whitening lotion or another, but there was one particular ad that absolutely stopped me in my tracks.

It showed a young woman being embarrassed and trying to cover up her armpit as she held onto the over head rail on a busy train. Just when I thought it was a regular deodorant ad, the voice over said "Would you like your under arms to be fairer?". Yes, that's right, they are selling roll on deodorant with a whitening agent! Well this was very good news for me. Because if the true mark of beauty in India is now fair under arms, then surely my lily white armpits must make me the most beautiful woman in the land!