India

I’ll never complain about Auckland traffic again – but Delhi’s mammoth jams do at least have huge entertainment value. Crammed buses, clattering tuk-tuks, bicycle rickshaws, four-up motorbikes, camel carts and wandering cows: it’s noisy, colourful and endlessly interesting. Life is lived on the streets and the footpaths, washing up against the monuments to India’s opulent past where maharajahs lived in fabulous luxury.

India’s all about contrast: palaces and ramshackle villages, dust and perfume, simplicity and ornamentation. Mountains, beaches, jungle and plains, the frantic buzz of the big cities, the unshod scuff of donkey hooves on a dirt road. Expected, but magical – the gleam of the moon on the perfect domes of the Taj Mahal – and surprisingly ordinary – oxen pulling lawn-mowers under the walls of forts and palaces, cricket played as monkeys watch curiously. India is fascinating, full-on, in your face: totally unforgettable.

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