Bardia National Park continued

The next couple of days were spent relaxing and enjoying the local area. Cecilia, one of Mr B's staff, took us on a tour of the local village which included a trip to an elephant sanctuary where we watched the elephants (including an adorable baby) crossing the river after having been taken for a walk in the jungle and were then able to get really close to them as they were fed which was really great.  

Monique even wrestled with the baby elephant who seemed to enjoy the attention.

We briefly met Cecilia's grandmother on the way to see the elephants, and she insisted that we stop in for tea on the way back. It was really lovely, and she seemed genuinely happy to have us in her home despite her not speaking any English.

We also went on a birdwatching trip with Krishna, one of the guides. We didn't get as far as planned due to a torrential downpour not long after we set out, however we still got to see quite a few different types of birds, and Krishna was able to demonstrate his impressive knowledge which included being able to identify the various birds by their call alone.

We had originally planned to stay only briefly in Bardia, and to visit Chitwan National Park later in our trip. However, we had enjoyed our time at Mr B's so much, and were so impressed by Mr B and his staff, that we decided to stay longer and go on another tour. This time we went on a walking tour through more accessible parts of the jungle.

First we had to cross the river to get into the National Park. Although we had been lucky on our rafting tour there had been a lot of heavy rain during our stay (mostly in the evenings) and so the river was extremely high and fast. Our mode of transportation across the river was a dug-out boat (i.e. a boat made out of a hollowed tree-trunk) which could take 2 people at a time. We were accompanied by two guides, and given their reactions to the river crossing there was quite a lot of luck (along with no little skill) required to get us across without getting wet.

This is actually from the crossing back at the end of the day - I didn't start the day looking that rough!

After a couple of hours or so of walking we reached a look-out point where we waited for a while without any luck. We then walked a bit further to a spot which Mr B refers to as his favourite because it is where three rivers join and is a favourite spot for tigers to drink (apparently during the dry season they went 30 consecutive days of seeing a tiger there!). Once there we waited, and waited … and waited some more. Hours passed without seeing anything of interest. Thankfully our guides were really nice and good humoured (and a little more relaxed without Mr B calling the shots) and so were good company.

Our lego explorer friend passed the time by exploring a nearby mushroom forest.

We hadn't really expected to be staying in one spot for so long on a “walking” tour, and so were getting a little restless. However, our patience paid off when a rhino casually walked out of the undergrowth before crossing the river and disappearing into the undergrowth on the opposite side. It was much closer than the three we had previously seen, so much so that we could really see the amazing creature in much more detail.

That sighting made it easier for us to continue to wait at that same spot – perhaps to see if the rhino would make a return trip across the river. Another hour passed before we heard a commotion from our side of the river – a group down at the lookout point had briefly seen a tiger heading into the jungle in our direction and were rushing towards us. After scanning the distance we spotted him bathing in the water with just his head out. We moved further down the riverbank to get a better look, and watched for a couple of minutes before he dashed out of the water and back into the privacy of the undergrowth. It was all a bit surreal, and only after the event did it really hit home that we had seen a wild tiger – one of the rarest large animals on the planet. He was probably around 250m away from us, but even so it was incredible, and incredibly lucky at this time of year.

Spot the stripes

After the tiger left we walked back to the lookout point on the off-chance he would return to that area. Unsurprisingly he didn't come out again; however we weren't too disappointed because we were able to watch four rhinos on the other side of the river, as well as catching glimpses of three more elephants as they passed between the trees further away. It was beyond all our expectations to see rhinos, elephants and a tiger all in one day. There are some zoos that don't have that sort of collection! Even looking back on it now I can't quite believe it.

It could really go without saying that our stay in Bardia was one of the highlights of our trip, and may possibly be the highlight. Our final animal count was 3 crocodiles, 5 elephants, 7 rhinos and a tiger. Before we left we had already started talking about returning to Nepal and to Bardia and Mr B's. If we could have such a great time and see so many amazing animals at the worst time of year to be there then it would be absolutely incredible if we could go back during the dry season.

Bardia National Park: First instalment

Our next port of call was Bardia National Park, 8 hours or so West of Lumbini by bus. We had first head of Bardia from an Australian guy, and fellow Bollywood extra, who told us that it was his favourite place in 2 years of travelling. On his recommendation we had booked into a place called “Mr B's”, and the friendly Mr B picked us up from the bus stop to take us to his guesthouse by jeep.

The reason for our trip out to Bardia was wildlife spotting. Whilst Chitwan is the most popular National Park on the tourist route we had read that Bardia offered the same levels of wildlife activity without the same crowds. Unfortunately our visit was smack-bang in the middle of the wet season and therefore the worst time of year for wildlife spotting, but we had been assured that if anyone was going to find wildlife for us to spot it was Mr B.

Our options for wildlife spotting at this time of year were limited, but we opted to go for a rafting tour. We thought the tour seemed a little pricey, however it soon became apparent that Mr B had assembled a crack unit of wildlife guides and rafters who may or may not survive as soldiers of fortune – The B Team!

If only Mr B had a mohawk and a fear of flying

The day consisted of rafting down the river while Mr B pointed out various birds as well as a few crocodiles (one of which was spotted only when it was a few metres away, prompting some rapid paddling to get a safe distance away), but mainly kept an eye out for signs of the bigger animals. Periodically Mr B would spot some fresh elephant or rhino tracks and we would disembark from the raft to track the animals through the jungle on foot.  In reality it was Mr B tracking the animals while we did our best to track Mr B as he breezed through the dense jungle as if it wasn't there (he just seemed to move at the same speed irrespective of whether we were walking on grass, through mud, through dense undergrowth of through rivers).

Although we went quite a few hours without seeing anything it was already really enjoyable being out on the water and on the lookout for anything exciting and well worth what we had paid. The ever-eloquent Dr Ziebro PhD succinctly summer up her considered thoughts with the following statement: “I'm enjoying the crap out of this!”. It was really thrilling to see an expert tracker in action as he inspected tracks and excrement, assessed directions of movement by looking at broken branches etc, and even smelled out our targets. This was proper jungle too – grass up to head-height and branches and vines that needed hacking back to pass through as we wound through the trees climbing over roots and ducking under thicker branches. On several occasions we were definitely really close to finding rhinos or elephants, and potentially to turning a corner to come face-to-face with them, but eventually we had to turn back when the jungle got so dense that it would have been impossible to run away if one of the animals became aggressive. Mr B was clearly willing to take significant risks to find us some big animals, however even he had to draw the line somewhere, especially when we were tracking an inevitably protective female rhino with her young.

After lunch we made the decision to continue on foot for a while in the search for elephants. 30 minutes later Mr B received a message from 2 of the other guides who had stayed with the raft that there was an elephant. Unfortunately there was a mis-communication as to where the elephant was which resulted in Mr B leading us as fast as we could go through the jungle and through two rivers only to find out that the elephant was back in the direction we had originally walked from. Luckily the raft was able to return upstream to collect us, and then head back downstream in time to catch the elephant. We were able to get out of the raft and watch him from a distance, before we got back into the raft and were able to pass really close by him.

After that we headed to a look-out point where there was a chance of seeing rhinos. It turned out to be a rather good chance, as there were three rhinos on the other side of the river when we arrived there. It was really amazing to watch such rare and powerful creatures casually grazing on the grass (in a way not entirely dissimilar to cows) even if they were quite a distance away from us.

When we returned to the raft we found out that Mr B had heard heard a tiger roaring not far away. Mr B had also found fresh tiger prints which our lego explorer friend (a stowaway on the raft) inspected closely.

As we moved along the river we could hear the various birds and monkeys sounding out warnings that a tiger was near, however he unfortunately opted to stay in the undergrowth rather than come to the river for a drink. It was still pretty cool to be so close to a tiger, and probably as close as we could expect to be to seeing a tiger at this time of year.

Well satisfied with seeing three crocodiles, an elephant and three rhinos, as well as getting pretty close to a tiger, we started heading back. Completely unexpectedly we then came across our second elephant of the day, a huge male right next to the river bank. We steered nearer to get an even better look, however Mr B then recognised him as a notoriously dangerous elephant who had previously attacked local villages and killed people. He was clearly not happy about us being there, and he waved his trunk aggressively in the air to warn us off. Mr B and co very quickly started paddling away to get us out of harm's way as the elephant ran along the river bank to chase us off his territory. I never felt like we were in danger, but judging by the reaction of the guides it clearly wasn't safe to be as close as we had momentarily been.

The day was completely exhausting but absolutely exhilarating. We were incredibly impressed by Mr B's skill and knowledge, and the dedication of his team to locating the big animals for us. I got the impression we would have kept going for as long as it took for us to see at least one elephant or rhino.

Lovely Lumbini

After a big sleep, we awoke with a small, but important mission: to find a Nepalese guidebook. This was a formative part of our plan for that day, which included figuring out how to get ourselves to Bardia National Park, which we had already decided was our next stop. Although simple in theory, it proved to be quite a complicated mission due to the lack of book vendors in the tiny, one-street town. Fortunately, this also meant there were fewer options, which greatly reduced our search time.

After we finally secured an old copy of the L.P., we settled down at a nearby restaurant to begin planning how to make the most of what was left of the day. We weren't there very long before we were joined by a chatty professor from a university in Arizona, who had a strong interest in Buddhism and was following a route of important Buddhist sights in Nepal and India. We quickly discovered he was chock-full of information on Lumbini. So much so, in fact, that our newly acquired guidebook was somewhat redundant! On his astute advice, we rented bikes with the aim of exploring the nearby temples.

The decision to rent bikes was a very wise one, as we would definitely not have had time to see half as much if we had been on foot, and the weather was pretty warm (we had been looking forward to cooler temperatures in Nepal, but I guess that won't kick in until we get into the mountains). Our first stop, and our primary reason for visiting Lumbini, was the birthplace of Buddha, marked by an ancient Boudha tree. It seems like there is some debate as to whether it genuinely is the birthplace of Buddha, but there is no doubt that it is a wonderfully peaceful spot. We spent quite some time lazing underneath a tree, looking out onto the meditating monks and the prayer flags that surround the area, and watching the turtles basking in the nearby pond.

This little haven of peace and quiet was like a breath of fresh air after the stresses of India. Monique even zoned out and did a spot of meditating herself.

We eventually dragged ourselves away to explore the rest of the area which was like a world tour of Buddhist temples – every country with a significant Buddhist population has a temple in its traditional style. We didn't have time to stop by them all, but we did check out the Korean, Chinese, Thai, Cambodian and Vietnamese temples. It was really enjoyable to cycle through the lush green vegetation alongside a lake and stop periodically to check out a temple (some of which brought back memories of temples visited on our last trip to South East Asia).

At the far end of the large and spread-out complex of temples is the World Peace Pagoda – a striking white stupa surrounded by grass and tree that was quite lovely against the perfectly blue sky.

On the way back we encountered an excitable group of locals dancing around a truck as it slowly moved down the road blasting out lively music.  It turned out to be a wedding celebration, and we enjoyed sharing in the celebratory atmosphere as the touring party moved past us.

 

It was a really enjoyable day, and a great start to Nepal. Just two days in we had already decided that we definitely didn't have enough time in Nepal.

Food in India

Food is always a big part of travelling for me, and I was particularly excited about the food in India because I love Indian food. It was originally my intention to write regular blog posts dedicated to the food of different regions of the country; however, as you may have noticed, we have been running behind on our blog and so have prioritised posts about what we have seen and done over things like food. Instead, I have decided to write a brief summary of some of the more memorable food experiences (both good and bad) mostly to ensure that we don't forget them:

• Going veggie in Mumbai for fear of “Bombay Belly” and then ditching the idea after a few days for some fantastic chicken tikka wraps from a roadside stall;
  
  
• The best kulfi ever in Mumbai – sold by weight using gigantic and ancient looking scales from a hole-in-the-wall opposite Girguam beach. Incredibly rich, creamy and tasty (and probably equally bad for you);
  
  
• Amazing food all round in Goa. Our favourite beachside restaurant was so good we ate there 3 times – Huderabadi chicken, Goan prawn curry, chicken vindaloo (yes, the veggie idea was well and truly ditched by now), veggie korma and tandori mushrooms all served with fantastic (and huge) nan bread. Monique also became temporarily infatuated with the veggie burger with feta and chili jam at a restaurant right next to our guesthouse;
  
  
• Receiving an education in home cooking in Hyderabad courtesy of Abhi (with a little help from both his maid and mother) and experimenting with street food under Abhi's guidance – various tasty chaat and some lip-tingling chilli fritters;
  
  
• Our first “slop thali” at a highly recommended restaurant in Mysore. A thali is a combination of several small portions of different dishes (most often vegetarian) with rice and/or chapatis and in many places includes refills of your favourite dishes. “Slop thali” is my personal name for a particular variant of the thali, which is derived from the nature in which the various dishes are unceremoniously slopped out onto your plate (or banana leaf if you're not lucky enough to get a plate) by the staff who patrol the restaurant on the look out for diners who they deem to be in need of a top-up. In this particular instance the food that was slopped up on our banana leaves was not good, but the very good masala dosa I ate from a roadside stall afterwards made up for it;
  
  
• The best butter chicken ever in Munnar – rich and spicy and buttery and delicious. Pleasingly different from any butter chicken I have had back home;
  
  
• An underwhelming “slop thali” in Munnar. The locals literally fight each other to get into this restaurant at lunchtime. First time around we decided that the 1pm scrum was a bit much for us (I haven't seen anything like it outside of a Huskisson family party – even Aunty Joy might have met her match). Second time around we arrived early to beat the rush/fight and discovered that we had to first wash the dirt off our banana leaf with our hands (after the arrival of cups of hot water for this purpose caused some initial confusion) before the various dishes were slopped out in generous potions. Our request for cutlery caused some amusement, and after some forks were rustled up we found that the food really wasn't worth fighting over. A memorable experience nonetheless; 
   
• The friendliest restauranteur ever in Kochi who seemed genuinely invested in us enjoying our food as much as possible whilst simultaneously looking like an Indian Santa. The combination of his hospitality and the food itself persuaded us to return twice;
  
  
• The extensive lunch on board our houseboat on the Keralan backwaters, the highlight of which was green beans with mustard seeds and fresh coconut;
  
  
• Fantastic veggie thali at the side of the Keralan backwaters at an inauspicious looking restaurant with a tamed eagle sat, untethered, out front;
  
  
• Pizza Hut pizza in the food court of the mall opposite our hotel in Mangalore. Some much needed comfort food after a tough few days of moving around the Wayanad area and struggling to find hotels willing to let us stay;
  
  
• The best veggie thali ever in Aurangabad. I lost count of how many different delicious dishes there were, all accompanied by fresh puri. The staff were unrelenting in their quest to feed us until we could not eat any more, and then seemed genuinely offended when we refused further servings;
  
  
• Excellent tasting tandoori paneer in Delhi which unfortunately gave Monique a bad case of “Delhi Belly”;
  
  
• A great rooftop restaurant at our guesthouse in Jaipur, the highlight of which, for me, was a lamb rogan josh that gave my mom's version a run for its money;
  
  
• A measly potion of 6 french-fries with a veggie burger in Jaipur which made Monique very sad;
  
  
• Dining with breathtaking views of the sun setting over the fort each night in Jodhpur;
  
  
• Beautiful sweet and spicy pumpkin and mango curries (topped with a mixture of dried mint and coconut) at a tiny family restaurant in Udaipur;
  
  
• Finally finding a good bakery in Udaipur. It was a shame we didn't get to go back for more chocolate almond torte and chocolate balls;
  
  
• The best jeera (cumin) potatoes at a rooftop restaurant in Agra with a great view of the Taj Mahal (albeit through the rain);
  
  
• Surprisingly good cheese fondue in Varanasi served with freshly baked bread;
  
  
• Inedible pork curry in Varanasi. It wasn't that it tasted too bad to eat, it was just so chewy that it was physically impossible for me to eat.
  
  
  The above are just a handful of the memorable meals we ate during our 3 months in India, and I will probably add more as I remember them. Overall the food in India was great, although I was surprised at how authentic much of the Indian food I was previously familiar with was. There was no meal that put the Indian food available in the UK to shame, but the average meal in India tasted like food from a good quality Indian restaurant in Birmingham (albeit the quality of the meat in India is greatly inferior to that which we are used to). I was surprised to find that the food in India really wasn't particularly spicy; I had expected the food in the south to be quite fiery, but with the exception of a vindaloo in Goa nearly all the food was what I would class as firmly medium spiced.

One significant difference between the Indian food in the UK and authentic Indian food is the naan bread; I am sued to a naan bread being quite soft and doughy, however naan bread in India is very thin and often quite crispy. It is much more common to have chapatis served with a curry than naan bread, and the fresh chapatis is one area where the Indian food in the UK falls down in comparison. When they are good and fresh chapatis are tasty and really thin and light.

One aspect of Indian eating that I struggled to get to grips with (if you'll pardon the pun) was eating using hands alone. This is one thing when eating a curry or vegetable dish with naan or chapati, because as long as there is sufficient bread it isn't too difficult to scoop the sauce up, or wrap the bread around pieces of meat/veg, and with a little help from a fork or spoon my technique was passable. However, when it comes to eating rice and daal with hands alone I draw the line. There is a very distinctive technique used by Indians for this which involves repeatedly jabbing at the food with vertical fingers until it becomes a sloppy mixture, then lifting a load up with the same vertical-fingered style and dropping it into the mouth. The result of this technique is rice and lentils all over one's hands and face, as well at the table. Whereas back home a table in a restaurant might be swept of crumbs after a meal, or perhaps the tablecloth replaced, in many Indian restaurants the table is cleaned down using a squeegy and a bucket of soapy water in much the same way as one would clean a car windshield. As nice as it would be to fit in with the locals I am 6'5” and pasty white so that's never going to happen; if I'm going to stand out anyway I don't mind standing out by being the tourist who asks for a fork to eat his food with, much to the amusement of the wait staff and other diners.

Where all the updates have gone!

Sorry there's been a lack of updates in quite some time.  It's partly due to a very busy schedule and non-existent internet connections.  It's also due to the fact I (i.e. Monique) have been riding out a crazy cocktail of holiday blues, and writing when I'm bummed out would NOT do the lovely Nepal justice.

So if you want to hear a catalog of cranky holiday complaints, read on my friend.  If you'd prefer to go on thinking of me as preternaturally optimistic and continually chipper, for the love of God, stop reading right now. 

1.  I'm covered in over 200 bedbug bites, courtesy of one of the poshest places we've stayed in.  (Usually, I'm not so slow to figure this out, but when the place is so nice, it takes me a bit longer to add it up.)  Yes, it does make me feel *&$%ing gross, because it is.    

2.   It's been 3 weeks (i.e. 21 days) since I have experienced the joys of either a hot or lukewarm shower.  I am clinging to the desperate hope there will be warmish water in our hotel tomorrow, but I am not overly optimistic.

3.  I weighed myself the other day, and although I haven't seen numbers on the scale that low since I was 15, I have never looked worse.  

4.  I really really really really really (did I mention really?) wanted to learn to dive, but I got a bit spooked when I inhaled a snootful of water, and the instructor got really frustrated with me.  (Partly my fault, partly her complete lack of patience.)  Then I felt really pressured into doing stuff I didn't feel comfortable with, and overly eager to please, I complied.  As a result, I didn't make it through the course and am now a Dive school Dropout.  

5.  I'm losing hair by the literal fistful.  I've probably lost about 50% of my hair thus far, but I'm sure that number will increase by next week.  Dunno, watch this space.  It's more than likely an aftereffect of the Dengue, and it should be temporary, or so the sparse information available on the internet tells me. This has been going on for a month or so now, so I actually saw a doctor about it in Bali, who told me that it should clear up in 3 months. There was a bit of a language barrier, so I hope she meant that I will stop losing my hair by then, not that I will simply achieve baldness by then. 

Jon is actually okay, he's only suffering from issue 2 above, but with the additional complaint of “Irritable Travel Buddy." 

Eh, as they say, "a bad day on vacation is better than a good day back at work" or something like that.  And for the most part, that does tend to be true, but it is still a bit touch-and-go for me right now.  This is not to say I'm completely inconsolable...I feel much better than I did a few days ago, and I do have my GameBoy.  (Defeated 3 games in the course of a few days...Donkey Kong Country 1 & 2 and The Sims Bustin' Out.  All very good games would highly recommend.)  

Oh!  I also finished my least favorite John Irving book to date (Last Night in Twisted River), which effectively means it was 99.9% more awesome than the average book.  

Goodbye India, Hello Nepal!

Our dash to the border was a slightly frantic one. Jon and I were keenly aware that our time in Nepal was on a ticking clock—we were aiming for a 3 week visa—and India's many offerings pushed back our arrival date by a couple of days. Thus, we were more than a little tired when we boarded a train heading North, where we could catch a bus to the Sunali border. Although the train trip was during the day, we were able to secure sleeper bunks that allowed us to lie down and nap the whole trip. That is, after Jon booted out the previous occupant, who did his very best to convince us that the 16 over the bunk did not, in fact, actually mean 16. (I say Jon, but actually our fellow travelers got in on the act, and our foe was soundly routed.)

We transferred from a train to a bus in a town whose name escapes me, but my joy at escaping from it remains undiminished. It was a complete hole. With the border a fair distance away and desperation at our backs, we boarded a bus. Or at least a moving vehicle that bore a vague resemblance to a bus, one with a scant 7 inches of leg room, which left Jon to swivel sideways into the aisle while I tried to do something to my legs to fit them into the allocated space whilst ensuring they remained attached to my body. Fortunately, I had a whole three hours to figure out where the legs should go. Alas, my journey did not leave me illuminated on this point. 

When we hobbled off the bus, we found a older man—a cyclo driver—who offered a 'complete border crossing service.' This essentially meant he told us where to go, who to see, what documents to produce to what authorities, took us to only store that offered currency exchange, pedaled us over the border (“Goodbye India, Hello Nepal!”) and watched our bags when we got all our paperwork in order. All for the bargainous price of $1.50.

If one has read the blog to this point, it should not surprise one if I said things were less than easy leaving India—as it turns out there is always time to have one last argument with the highway robbers who run the currency exchange office on the Indian side of the border. On the Nepalese side of the border, well, things were easy as apple pie. Really friendly, very smiley apple pie that offered favorable exchange rates and directed you to the appropriate transport. 

After a short jeep ride, we took the local bus into Lumbini, which was a bit of a mistake due to the fact it traveled approximately 4km an hour. Since hitchhiking on tortoise-back would get ensure a speedier arrival, it was strange that the bus was absolutely rammed, creating a sweaty inferno that was rather less than pleasant. We arrived at nightfall, into a small sleepy town that was so quiet, I found the silence overwhelming. During our time in India, I became so desensitized to the sound of car horns that on our second trip through Mumbai I realized I could no longer hear the horns unless I specifically listened for them. After a few months of the honking, it seems that my mind had simply translated that terrible cacophony into white nose.

It was about that time that I really started to worry that we did not have sufficient time in Nepal. 

Rules of the Indian roads

After nearly 3 months in India I have finally worked out the rules of driving:

• ALWAYS drive on the left hand side of the road unless it is inconvenient to you in which case you may drive on the right hand side;
• Road markings are for decoration and employment purposes only; NEVER let them distract you;
• Beeping your horn will make all other drivers do exactly as you wish them to do, so ALWAYS beep as frequently as you consider necessary (plus a few more for good luck);
• ALWAYS Ignore other drivers who beep their horns; it’s not directed at you;
• ALWAYS ignore road signs; they are intended for less skillful drivers than yourself;
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• NEVER brake; it is for wimps/people with inferior moustaches (these two variables are directly correlated);
• NEVER indicate; you will lose the element of surprise;
• ALWAYS speed up for corners; it makes them more fun;
• Every driver is responsible for helping to prevent the road from getting too dry and cracking; ALWAYS spit on the road as regularly as possible (passengers and pedestrians are not subject to the same duty, but are free to join in);
• ALWAYS slow down for road bumps and pot-holes unless you don’t wish to slow down and/or you’re not particularly concerned about the health and safety of your passengers;
• NEVER transport too many people in your vehicle;
  
  
  
• ALWAYS use your vehicle efficiently. Scooters should carry a minimum of 3 people, motorbikes can transport a family of 5, rickshaws can carry 7, cars 10+ etc; 
  
    
• ALWAYS give way to those above you in the road hierarchy which is roughly as follows: pedestrian < bicycle < scooter < motorbike < rickshaw < car < van < bus < truck < cow;
• If two vehicles are equal on the vehicle hierarchy then ALWAYS give way to the more aggressive driver/the driver with the better moustache (these two variables are directly correlated);
• If you do not have right of way then you can ALWAYS make it (unless your ‘opposition’ is a cow);
• ALWAYS have religious symbols and/or good luck charms in and/or on your vehicle; this will ensure that you do not have an accident irrespective of whether you follow the rules;
• If you do have an accident it was ALWAYS the other person’s fault;
• If you are at fault for an accident ALWAYS deny it;
• ALWAYS decorate and personalise your vehicle; it makes it easier to identify the wreckage.
  
  
  
  
  
  

In all seriousness the Indian road system is pretty much a miracle. It is every bit as chaotic as the above rules suggest; horns are constantly honked and cross words/angry hand-gestures regularly exchanged, and it is frequently scary both as a pedestrian and a passenger, yet it somehow works. Like everything else in India, people somehow make it work; millions and millions of people use the road system every day and nearly every one of them gets to their destination safely. During our stay and many, many hours on the roads, we have witnessed no major accidents and only two very minor collisions both of which damaged neither vehicle. The road system appears to be an ‘organic’ and flexible system but one which every driver seems to understand and use effectively (if not always efficiently). Like the South Indian head wobble, the honk of a horn can have any number of different meanings, and yet the recipient always seems to know what it means and how to respond (albeit the response is often to return the gesture and continue the status quo). It really has to be experienced to be appreciated.