Batman

Tentana, Sulawesi island, Indonesia (map)

In this blog: a change of island, some slow journeys, scootering around a beautiful area, and eating bat.

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Before I start I want to make an acknowledgement - these blog posts are long! I realise many people can't keep up and have to dip in and out of them, but I like to write it how I see it, and give the full picture of the journey to show it's an experience rather than just a holiday, so thank you regular readers (5 to 25 people a day it says) for your patience, and for reading it full stop! They take ages to write so I hope you find them as well written rather than boring, and continue to enjoy them wherever you are.

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Sulawesi is possibly the craziest looking island you've ever seen - from above it looks something like an octopus run over by a truck (see map link above). But this craziness extends to activities on the ground as well; the food, people, rituals and chaos, and as you'll see over the next couple of weeks it's often a weird and wonderful place.

After two months on Borneo, we took a flight across the Malassar Strait to the Central Sulawesi city of Palu, arriving at nearly midnight after a nearly two hour delay with Lionair. I'd accidentally (honest guv') left my Swiss Army knife in my hand luggage, and had it confiscated by security when boarding in Balikpapan, so after reclaiming it at customs in Palu, we grabbed a taxi into town and at 1am after three attempts, finally managed to find a guesthouse that was open, even if it was a bit of a dive. 

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Palu

The graffiti was the only interesting thing about Palu

Rene and I only had a vague idea of where we wanted to go in Sulawesi, so the next morning after a couple of hours research and planning, we realised Palu had nothing to offer us and tried to get out of there as quick as possible. With no bus station and only share taxi services scattered around the suburbs it was easier said that done though especially as no-one spoke an ounce of English, and it took a lot of walking and asking around ('bis Tentana?') before we finally found a ride, even if it did leave four hours later. 

We took a stroll through town. It was hot but a more pleasant dry heat in contrast to Borneo, and the open sewers beside the road sometimes stank as we headed to the waterfront, which itself was no better with a the sandy beach covered in rubbish and lined by street stalls on one side and dirty seawater the other. This was no tourist town. We turned down a small road and found ourselves walking through a small karaoke street party, where people were very supposed to see us and waved away, and a lady grabbed Rene's nose. This happened to me as well a few weeks before and we learnt that our Caucasian noses are quite a novelty, being long and narrow compared to the short wide Indonesian nose! Eventually we found seemingly the only nice place in the city to relax and wait a couple of hours, before we were finally on our way.

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On the road

The share taxi almost predictably left nearly an hour late - a people carrier 'kevved up' with a big exhaust, and for no particular reason except coolness or maybe because they considered it 'too safe' - they'd removed the airbag, headrests and seatbelts. Perfect! The scenery was noticeably different to Borneo, and a bit of reading soon told me that whilst Borneo was once part of the Asian continent, Sulawesi has been proven to have formed from landmass from both Asia and Australia and thus had some of the flora and fauna of both. No kangaroos though! A few cultural differences were also noticeable, such as the sight of herds of three or four cows grazing on the roadsides and feral dogs roaming as they please, often looking a bit mangy. We climbed windy mountain roads through rainforest clad hills, past small roadside produce stalls, before descending to the plains. The driver decided to take an hour and a half dinner break to chat to his friends, and we impatiently sat waiting whilst curious local kids spoke phrases of English, took our pictures and gathered to look in curious amazement as I, ahem, read a book. Eight hours later we finally reached the town of Tentena and arriving late at night for the second day in a row, had to do a lot of doorbell ringing before we found a bed.

Tentena is a smallish town set beside the largest lake on Sulawesi, and with a bit of altitude and a nice breeze is pleasant with it. It's hard to call it a beautiful place as few towns we've seen in Indonesia are, but it's certainly got some character with mountains all around, picket fences in front of houses, and many green areas. There are also more Christian churches than one community can possibly need - I've never seen so many in one town, though this strong belief caused all manner of conflict with other Muslim-dominated neighbouring regions just a few years ago and many people died in clashes.

Kooky Canadians

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Scooter scouting

There wasn't much to see in walking distance, so Rene and I hired a scooter for a couple of days to get out and about. A few miles in, the vague hand-drawn map the guesthouse had given us was a little ambiguous and we took a wrong turn, heading up windy roads into the mountains. We kindof knew it, but kept going anyway to see what we saw. Both sides of the road were covered by often dense jungle, but often interrupted by clearings locals had made either just for the wood or to plant cocoa trees; the dominant crop of the area. Road building was in progress and we passed some women breaking up rocks beside the road with hammers into gravel sized pieces, and men building walls. We eventually found ourselves in a quarry and turned backed back on the workers advice, stopping to look at the fantastic views below on the way, looking at primitive hut houses and small veg patches set back from the road, and taking in the sound of the wildlife amongst the trees. We may have been lost, but it wasn't a wasted journey.

Eventually we found the beach, which is slightly perplexing as you normally need waves to make sand - something noticeably absent on this lake, but the beach very nice anyway It was a great place for a dip - probably the warmest lake I've ever swum in, and we found what we thought was a deserted waterside cafe for lunch. Rene doesn't meet many Canadians on the road, let alone French-Canadians (since French is his first language, and English a close second) yet here in this deserted place we found three of them from Quebec eating a melon so he was a happy chappy. They were heaps of fun for the hour or so we chatted over lunch, them sometimes en Francais, and they told us a few stories from their travels before showing us really stupid funny videos they'd made of themselves along the way - dancing in streets or doing silly monologues. Québécois are renowned for their very unique and quirky sense of humour I learnt afterwards, and here was proof.

That night we went for tea with some Swiss girls who stayed at the hotel, and I ordered a fresh orange juice. To my surprise there were quite a few ants in the glass either desperately swimming around or dead so I politely complained to the owner. To our surprise and amusement, she walked off and came back with not a replacement but a spoon, and carefully fished them out before grinning and walking off. Still tasted good! An even more pleasant surprise was Skyping my Grandpa that night - at 89 years old, he went out and bought his first computer recently, learnt how to use it through books and advice, and now here we were having a face to face chat. You're never too old to learn.

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Waterfalls and caves

On our second attempt at finding it the next day, we visited Terjun Salopa waterfalls, hidden ten miles from town along a rough lane. I'd see a photo before and it looked good, but nothing prepared me for the spectacular sight of it when we rounded the corner. It was a huge multi tiered affair with water cascading in consistent motion all the way across, indeed it was all so perfect it looked artificial, and with no moss on the rocks, we were also able to paddle amongst it. A beautiful spot to spend a couple of hours. The cafe back by the road advertised 'pyton soup', which we wondered whether was an Indonesian word or a misspelling. We asked the woman who pointed to a photo on the wall of a huge snake, before saying 'sorry, no python today'. Crickey!

Me ruining a photo of a nice waterfall

The stunning Terjun Salopa waterfalls

The scooter was a great way to get a feel of the area independently, as it can feel quite constraining sometimes just relying on public transport or the soles of your feet. We continued on and explored the town, visited a viewpoint with a fantastic panorama over the town and many nearby paddy fields, and finished up the day at a cave. It was dusk, and after walking a few hundred metres down a path through cocoa trees we got something we definitely didn't expect. Seeing the cliffs, I walked up some steps to a huge limestone overhang, to find not a cave you can enter and explore, but instead a shallow cave with piles of broken old coffins and a number of skulls lined up on rocky ledges. Actual human skulls. We were quite taken aback, but were aware burials around here are a little unconventional - as you'll hear in the next blog in no uncertain terms!

Bat 

The finish to our time in Tentena was a memorable one. That morning we'd popped into the local market for a look, and came across a huge section of freshly butchered bat meat. Yes, bat! 

It was a startling sight, but little did we know that that evening in a local warung (small cafe) we'd have the opportunity to eat it. It was a perverse temptation, I mean bats are scary things right, but the curiosity was too much and tentatively we went for it. There were just a couple of small bits of wing amongst it though otherwise you'd never know what you were eating, and the texture as ever was similar to chicken. But as far as taste was concerned, we guessed the burning sensation of huge amounts of chilli hid something just a little inedible without.

Breaking rocks by the road

Basic hut home up in the mountains

Rene and the beast

View over the local area

Rotovating rice paddies

Going home from work

Bat carcases - scary eh?!

Sick As A Prince

Udaipur, India

(Route so far here) 

In this blog... I get ill, go to afternoon tea with a 'Prince', cycle to a mountain palace, and see the world's largest turban.

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It was going to happen eventually. Being exposed to some many different foods, people, germs, and in India, standards of hygiene, meant that I was bound to get some sort of illness sometime, and in Udaipur it finally happened. I'm just surprised it took six weeks in India for it to do so! In one hit this week, I've been suffering from a spot of Delhi belly, a cold, a fungal infection on my finger as well as having to have another anti-rabies jab following the dog bite the week before. Surprisingly, with the exception of one day, I've managed to function fairly normally through all this and it hasn't hit me too hard. 

Monday 

So back in Jodhpur, and with no direct trains to Udaipur I reluctantly took the bus south, a seven hour journey. I'm beginning to hate buses, but they're a necessary evil sometimes. The scenery on the way was nothing too special, lots of scrubby hill land, with a few flat patches in between where vegetables and rapeseed were being grown. A couple of times we passed people living in makeshift tents beside the road, fashioned from scavenged wood and tarpaulins, cooking outside on the street using small stoves. Sadly a sight you will see somewhere most days, but at least they have a bit of space and hygiene, unlike the big slums of Mumbai. 

Despite being a long distance express bus, the driver had no hesitations in suddenly slamming on the brakes to pick up people as he went. The roads we took varied completely, sometimes dual carriageway, sometimes dirt track, and at one point a very steep and windy minor road that wound up through some hills, with many langur monkeys hanging out in the trees by the road. In some of the villages we went through, people gathered round the village pump, and women carried home large containers of water in their heads. We passed a fairly smart looking horse breeding farm, some lovely dry stone walling, and a few large marble quarries. After this, there was mile after mile of nothing but marble sales yards, selling huge slabs of the white cut variety. I've never seen so much of the stuff.

Arriving at Udaipur, I shared a rickshaw across town to the hotel area with two British girls here on holiday, who were also on the bus. We were so overloaded with ourselves and bags, that with them stuffed in the back, I had to share the seat with the driver, him sat off-centre holding the handlebars (being part-motorbike), whilst I held on tight to keep myself both on the seat and in the vehicle! It was hilarious, but given the slow speed, not as dangerous as it sounds. There were a lot of hotels on offer but I struggled to find what I was after, with them either being too busy, too grubby, too expensive, or lacking in other guests. I usually take the first or second place I find, but here I turned into one of those hotel snobs you see on TV, and looked at seven different places before I found the right one. It was worth the effort though, having a fantastic rooftop cafe overlooking the beautiful Lake Pichola and the royal palace, and for the remainder of that afternoon all it seemed fitting to do, was sit in the warm sun looking at this amazing view, reading my book and drinking a beer. In fact I ended up sitting in the same spot for nearly eight hours!

The stunning Lake Palace, Udaipur

After some food, I chatted to an English guy on the the next table, him having been in India for a couple of months to volunteer and travel as a break from work. He was bored of his marketing job, but also bored of traveling, and whilst he was nice enough, his misery was infectious. I hate negative people. Two Russian girls sat on the next table along and we all got chatting for a while before Mr Happy disappeared off. I'm very intrigued by Russia and have been for a long time. The first group of Russians I met in Munich a few months ago upheld the loud vodka-swilling stereotype, but here Natasha and Natasha were the opposite. Their English was extremely good and accent quite soft, and they were friendly, polite and good fun. We had a good chat about all sorts, and I asked hundreds of things about Russia that I'd always wanted to know. 

Tuesday

Hot wheels

I've not ridden a bicycle for two months. Thinking about it, it's probably the longest I've ever gone without. I'm a bit of an addict and have missed cycling a lot, so the next day when I found that Udaipur had a hire shop I was straight there, paying £0.50 (50 rupees) to take a typical old-fashioned Indian bike out for the day. There really is only one main style of bike in India, and this was it - extremely heavy, a huge frame, one fixed gear, slow steering, swept back handlebars and terrible brakes. It's an awful design, and they're all way too big for the average Indian who rides them, but as with everything in India, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. It was a lot of fun to ride though, and I headed out of town, experiencing the chaotic roads first hand for the first time, drawing funny looks and remarks along the way from all the locals, who thought it was hilarious to see a foreigner on a bike. I rode round the beautiful Lake Fateh Sarah, and came across Shilpgram, a rather touristy re-creation of a rural village typical to the Rajistan area of India. As I was passing anyway, I decided to go in for an hour or so, stopping to watch the paid musicians burst into life and play when tourists walk past, then demand a tip. The buildings were mildly interesting to see but a bit fake and cheesey - real-life is much more interesting.

Half-way back I was cycling back around the lake, when out of nowhere came alongside me an Indian guy in his late twenties, riding an eighties road-bike and wearing an eighties shell-suit, and so began a truly surreal experience. With no introduction, he blurted out the usual 'what is your country sir?' in the very formal and old-fashioned English commonly used here, and he proceeded to chat away and ask various questions. He asked my name, and I asked his - he replied 'Prince Kamakhaya Singh'. 'You're a prince?' I said, slightly surprised and a tiny bit suspicious. He went on to tell me how he lived near the lake and cycled round for fitness every day, but his family home was the palace 'Devi Garh' around thirty miles away. As time went on he started to seem increasingly crazy and arrogant, yet remaining very friendly and inquisitive. He then started coming out with some truly ludicrous statements, with no hesitation that they might be seen as anything but normal. For example - he said he's started over seven religions, is the best polo player in the world, and is the living reincarnation of over two hundred people. Okayyyy! He seemed harmless though, and when he invited me to his house for a cup of tea, I obliged out of curiously of this strange person.

Prince Kamakhaya Singh

Having afternoon tea at the house of Prince Kamakhaya Singh

A short while later back in Udaipur, we cycled up a steep hill to his reasonably large suburban home overlooking the lake, and he pointed to a plaque above the gate which indeed said 'Prince Kamakhaya Singh'. I asked if he lived alone, and learnt he lived there with his parents, and I was given a seat on the balcony whilst his mum prepared tea and biscuits. I found myself talking in a similar style to Louis Theroux - asking seemingly innocent things but underneath thinking 'you madman'! I probed him with more questions and the truth started slowly revealing itself. He was legally allowed to use the title of Prince, but it appeared that he bought the rights to do so and registered it with the local government. He'd also bought the rights off the internet for £0.10 a time, and then had approved by the local government, to legally be known as the reincarnation of Bruce Lee, Roger Moore and Spiderman amongst others, as well as a few Hindu gods! It transpired that the palace somehow left his family during his grandfathers time, possibly due to debt, and he was now in litigation with the current property group to claim back the rights of ownership, the grounds of which weren't apparent. The statement that really told me that he should be institutionalised, was one that made me bite my lip and hold my chest in, trying my hardest not to laugh. He told me straight faced and without hesitation, that he is the legal owner of the universe. The entire planetary system of the universe...

It was one of the most bizarre encounters I'd ever had, and with the daylight drawing in, I politely said goodbye and cycled back to the hire shop. But not before he took down my details, and told me he'd send an invite to his wedding when it happens... despite not actually having a girlfriend, nor wanting an arranged marriage.

Udaipur was the location for the 1983 James Bond film - Octopussy, with much of the film being set around the nearby lake palace, and city streets. People of the city are very proud of this, and many of the restaurants play the film every single night to lure in customers. After thirty years I would guess they must be pretty bored of it! I went to one such place near my hotel and watched it that evening, noting whilst watching that the streets and fashions of India look exactly the same thirty years later. But I felt a bit off my food, and couldn't even stomach a bland pasta, so went to bed early after my Bond fix.

Wednesday

I woke up feeling a bit offish, after a few days of not being quite right, but after breckfast went for a wander anyway, having a look around nearby Bagore-ki Haveli. An eighteenth century Haveli, it's best described as an Indian version of a mansion house, and now preserved as a museum. I enjoyed looking round for an an hour or so, especially seeing the collection of turbans which included the world's biggest one - too big for even an elephant. But I felt sluggish when I left, with every beeping horn and pushy shopkeeper driving me up the wall much more than normal. I gave in and, feeling drained of energy and feeling pretty rubbish, turned back to the hotel, spending the rest of the day either on the toilet, or lounging in the sun in the rooftop area, reading my book. 

Bagore-ki Haveli

Thursday

After a good sleep I felt more back to normal, and not wanting another day around the hotel, yet again hired a bike and set off out of the city. I chose a mountain bike this time, knowing I needed some gears, and lugged this heavy bit of kit slowly up the steep hill to the Monsoon Palace - a now empty building a few miles out of town. The views were terrific, and only interrupted by a group of Indian lads who wanted my photo taken with them at seemingly every photo opportunity. I've mentioned before this is a fairly common occurrence in India, I guess 'foreigners' are a bit novel to some of them. Whilst it can be fun for a while, their approach can be downright rude sometimes, when they just shuffle alongside and take it without actually asking, or more often when you're ordered into their picture, and can become a little grating after a while. I cycled back down the hill, then out through some very interesting rural villages, where their grasp of English is understandably less good, and for the first time I saw some terrible teeth. I guess dental care comes second to just surviving for many. Twenty miles later I was back at base feeling completely ruined - definitely still not my normal self.

Friday

Saheliyon ki Badi gardens

I'd planned to leave town this morning, but ended up spending the whole morning in an Internet cafe trying to sort out some things for the next few weeks, and indeed next few months. After lunch, like a junkie, I had a craving to get back on a bike again so hired an old-school Indian bike again, and headed out to some beautiful gardens - Saheliyon ki Badi - before cutting across town to a special graveyard. Using Google maps with the GPS on my phone proves to be very handy to find your way around unfamiliar places, and I passed through all sorts of interesting parts of town I doubt many tourists would ever find themselves venturing. 

Ahah centopaths

I reached Ahah Centopaths, noted as an attraction but rarely visited from the looks of it. I never thought I'd describe a graveyard as amazing, but this royal cemetary, where rulers from previous centuries were laid to rest, was truly something else. I was the only visitor at the time, and was amused by the corrupt security guard who upon entering said 'cameras are not allowed, but if you give me twenty rupees you can take photos'! There were around two hundred and fifty exquisitely carved Centopaths - marble monuments, all set tightly together; some big, some small, and together the layers of detail built a spectacular view. A real unexpected find - I really enjoy places unaffected by tourism or hype, where you can see them for what they really are. Even if they're graveyards.

Cycling on the roads of India is very different to anywhere I've ever ridden. There is no consideration of other road users, no indicating, and you don't let people out, stay in lanes, or wait for people. Instead, I found that everyone pulls out of junctions without even looking and expects the traffic to just stop for them, and they'll cut you up and force you into the back of parked cars if you don't ride assertively enough. It's each for himself, and total chaos! I was soon back in town in the shopping area.

I hate shopping and particularly hate useless souvenirs, but force myself to buy the odd few things knowing I'll appreciate them in future. I stopped to buy some paintings, all originals and quite nicely done for not a lot of money. In one of the shops I visited I couldn't help but be transfixed by the ears of one of the artists I met - on the outer edges of the flesh he had great tufts of black hair growing where I've never seen it grow before, it was amazing. One of those situations where you have to wrestle your eyes back to where they should be!

Saturday

The center point for Udaipur is the lake, and having not visited the most obvious attraction yet, I decided to take one of the boat cruises out around the beautiful white palace in the middle of it. It was a nice way to spend the morning, and on another island that we stopped at nearby, I chatted to two older tourists who had Indian heritage, but had lived their lives in South Africa and I noted just how different their mindset was because of this. They were hilarious to chat to and quite modern, if not a little racist, and I had a proper good laugh with for a while.

 

Lake palace from the boat

It was time to move on. I'd felt a bit shoddy for the whole time in Udaipur, but it was never enough to ground me, and spending the time just resting wouldn't really have helped. I'd met some interesting locals, but was disappointed not to have met more fellow travellers at the hotel after the first day. Sometimes when this happens it's just me being lazy, sometimes the layout of a place makes it a bit unsociable, and other times certain places attract certain types of people, so I'm not sure which applied this time, possibly the latter. I'd thoroughly enjoyed the beauty of the lake and surrounding buildings, even if the rest of the city was typically grotty, noisy and chaotic, and it had been fantastic to get out and about on a bike again.

 

Still makes me cringe everytime I see this happen, and it's all too common

 

Shilpgram model village, a bit cheesey for my liking

Countryside near Udaipur

 

Local farmers I saw whilst cycling

The monsoon palace

Pushing On

Pushkar, India

'Sit here please foreigner' was the blunt instruction that hit me, as soon as I set foot in the train heading from Jaipur to Ajmer on New Years Day. The words came from a twelve year old boy, sat with his family in a bay just inside the door of the carriage, and I was quite taken aback for a second but decided to oblige as he seemed good natured.

For the two hour journey this cheeky young lad, so curious, and so pleased about meeting a 'foreigner', asked me everything he could possibly think of, holding back nothing whilst the rest of his family sat deadly silent. His English was perfect, as he goes to an 'English medium school' as they call it. The questions flew like shells from a machine gun: 'What country are you from?', 'what state you from?', 'what is your state capital?', 'do you have tsunamis?', 'is it colder than India?', 'do you learn Hindi at school', 'are you married or unmarried?', 'do you have a girlfriend?', 'how old are you?', 'you're 30 and unmarried???!!!'. He quietened down for a while, and I spent time looking out the open window at the increasingly arid scenery. Every so often he'd think of another one: 'Are you veg or non-veg? (I.e.- do you eat meat), 'who is your god?', 'how much is a bottle of water in England?', 'what is your salary?'. As normal in our culture I'd never normally discuss the last one, but I'd heard that Indians openly talk about what they earn, so I saw no harm in making him more aware of the world outside India by answering honestly. As a guide, even a minimum wage salary in Britain will still earn you twice that of a doctor here, but of course living costs are considerably cheaper here so it's all relative.

I'm hoping to try out all seven classes of train whilst in India to see what they're like, and this was the bottom rung - '2nd class unreserved' - the firm-cushioned cattle-class, you associate with images of people hanging off the side and roof. Those are in fact rare occurrences and it was pretty quiet that day, so at £0.50 for a two hour, 135km journey it couldn't be more of a bargain. It was nowhere near as uncomfortable as I expected, in fact nothing can be anymore after those nasty bus journeys I did in the Himalayas! Once at Ajmer, I took a rickshaw to the bus station, and an hour later was in the small desert town of Pushkar.

The lake at Pushkar

Pushkar is one of the most sacred sites in India for Hindus, and it was quite noticeable, with many Indians visiting to worship in one of the 500 temples or go bathing in the holy waters; doing small ceremonies by its side, and dropping flower petals onto the surface. After finding a hotel amongst then narrow jumbled backstreets that make up the town, I went for a wander around the small lake. I took great care to tread between, and hop over all the goose and pigeon poo as I wandered around the paved lake edge in my socks - a rule for all Hindu and Muslim religious places means you had to remove your shoes, even outside. As the sun set I sat on a ghat (set of steps) in the sun, taking in this interesting scene. 

Lakeside ghats

Vishnu temple

I looked round the rest of the town and started wandering the colourful, narrow and windy backstreets where the locals live. I've become more comfortable with exploring certain areas further afield, now I understand the people and country better, and it was fascinating seeing a glimpse of the humble but happy lives many people live. I've mentioned before that there are a lot of stray dogs on the streets in India, and I've found most of them to be quite placid until now, rarely even barking. Turning a corner in one of said streets, I glimpsed a couple of street dogs asleep on a step. As I passed one of them started barking quite loudly and aggressively without warning, so I walked on quickly. Then suddenly I felt a pain in my left calf. I was confused at first, then I realised the blighter had chased after me and bitten my leg.

In a bit of pain, as well as shock I sat down on some steps. A lady saw it all out of her window, and shouted to her friend who came over, asking in English what happened and could she see the bite. She said one word, one I didn't want to hear - 'hospital'. Her neighbour, a lad of my age arrived home on his motorbike at that moment and she told him the story and ushered me to hop on the bike. We weaved slowly around all the backstreets for a couple of minutes, and arrived at the hospital before I knew it. This kind chap spoke to the receptionist and then led me straight into a doctors consulting room. It wasn't the medical standards I'm used to, but at the same time wasn't at all bad. The doctor saw a tiny trace of blood where the dogs teeth had lightly pierced the skin, and said whilst it didn't look bad, I'd have to have the rabies vaccination as a precaution, as street dogs are sometimes infected - five jabs over the next month! Marvelous. At least his fee was painless at only £1 in cash! The hospital didn't hold the drugs, and I was then taken on the motorbike to a local pharmacy, who called a nurse out. Half an hour later the guy rocked up on his motorbike and gave me an injection in both arms. One of them actually left me with more pain than the dog bite itself! I also asked for something for my cold and was quickly handed a small foil of unidentifiable drugs without charge. Funnily enough I didn't take them. The owner of the hotel where I stayed told me that night that all the dogs in town have supposedly been collected, neutered and vaccinated against rabies in recent times which gives some comfort, but still, you never know.

Nature in harmony. It wasn't this dog, but it's similar looking mate around the corner

It was really great that night to spend a couple of hours on a video call via Skype, to my extended family who were all at my parents for New Years Day lunch, and for a change the quality was pretty clear.

The following morning I hiked to Savitri temple, set atop a single steep lump of a hill, all on its own. Anyone who's read my blogs of late would think I've gone through some religious transformation and become a Hindu. In actual fact they have temples everywhere so sometimes I visit by chance, sometimes cause its an interesting building, and sometimes they're just unavoidable when on top of a hill you want to hike! There was a fantastic view back down over the town, to the surrounding hills and far off into the distance in all directions, and it was quite noticeable here that the town was most definitely in the desert, with sand and scrub all around. 

I was glad to visit the unique town of Pushkar, but knew beforehand that there wasn't that much to see. So less than a day after I arrived, I headed back to Ajmer on the bus with all the locals, and caught the next train to Jodhpur, feeling a little wiser and a little sorer!

Nature in harmony. Wasn't this dog either!

Åre bike park and Ostersund

Ostersund, Sweden

Imagine eating with your knife and fork in the opposite hands. Or driving a car with the accelerator and brake pedals swapped. How about riding a bike with the brake levers on opposite sides, down a mountain... Welcome to my world last Tuesday!

I was at Åre bike park, situated on the mountain that is Sweden's main ski resort in winter, but in summer, one of the best places in the world to do downhill mountainbiking. This entails spending the day going up to the top on cablecars and chairlifts, then riding back down the 800m vertical descent. Again, and again. It's a place I'd wanted to come since 1999, when I read all about the world championships that were held there and thought how great it sounded. I wasn't disappointed. 

I got to the bike hire shop bright and early just as it opened, and took a full-suspension Scott Gambler out for the day. I noticed straight away the brake levers were on the opposite sides (as they are across Europe) and mentioned it to the girl who just shrugged. I decided it couldn't be too hard to get used to so took it up the mountain and went for it, straight down a black run. I coped OK, but felt slow, as if I hadn't ridden for years. Second time down I had a couple of crashes, having braked hard into a corner with what turned out to be the wrong brake, and got buckarood off down into the undergrowth! I went back to the shop and they swapped them after that.

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I managed to get in about ten runs over the day, each up to half an hour / five miles long - about ten times longer than courses back home, and was flying by the end of the day - though the bike got me out of all sorts of trouble. It was a fantastic day, a highlight of the trip so far.

Backtracking a bit to Sunday - I left the Rolander family and cycled 11m to the nearest train station, loaded up like a mule with pannier bags, rucksack and a big cardboard box. What a plonker I must have looked! I was due to catch the Inlands Baden train right up north, a tourist train that stops at all the nice places along the way. But as there's a daft rule not allowing you to take bikes on trains in Sweden, and I was running a bit late and didn't have time to box it up (the getaround), they refused to let me on. Worst of all it was the last train of the summer! With the bike boxed up, four hours later I sneaked it onto the regular train and eventually got to Ostersund, bang in the middle of Sweden.

On Monday, with little to see in Ostersund itself,  I cycled round nearby Lake Storsjon; this seems to be a recurring theme in Sweden! Nice enough, but not the best ride I've done - too much forest and not enough lake in view, and at 84 miles a bit too far for a leisurely ride.

Wednesday felt like a bit of a wasted day, researching and planning the next leg of the trip whilst waiting for a night train up north, but these things need to be done. And so to now... I'm writing this on the train, and the arctic circle is looming! 

Åre bike park