Looking through new eyes

I endured a 28 hour train journey from Varanasi to Mumbai, from where I was flying home. It dragged a lot - I thought it was never going to end at some points. My other long train journies seemed to go quite fast but the novelty had definitely worn off.

Train Station

I was initially sharing the 2-tier bunk with an Indian man who engaged me in conversation. He had seen my age printed on my train ticket, and asked me how much I earn (a lot of Indians ask this, or ask how much your camera costs etc - it always catches me slightly off-guard). After more questions he made the assumption that my husband pays the mortgage. It has often been easier in India to say that I am married, but this time I told the truth. He was completely aghast. Being single at 32, I am a hopeless spinster to be pitied. When he began to tell me how I must get married and it was not good to be alone, I had had enough. I told him I had my own house and job and could look after myself, thank you very much! He didn't speak to me again and changed seats for the rest of the journey. We were coming from such different cultural perspectives that understanding each other's point of view was unlikely.

I shared the compartment for the rest of the journey with an old couple who spoke no English but farted, burped and snored a lot. They were quite sweet!

Arriving in Mumbai was great as I knew exactly where I was going - I was suddenly like a pro-traveller, striding confidently along! I put my bags in storage at the station and whiled away my last few hours in an internet cafe. Then I had a delicious last curry in a vegetarian restaurant, full of locals, that Darren and I discovered when we were here before.

Remembering my feelings when seeing the city for the first time on arrival in India, I gazed in amazement around the city centre. Mumbai now seemed so relaxed, modern and cosmopolitan compared to many other parts of India. Granted, the huge slums that I saw coming in on the train were just as shocking, and the procession of smells that you drive through on the way to the airport were as nasty, but with no rickshaws or cows in the road, most people dressed in jeans and other pedestrians not giving me a second look, Mumbai seemed very different to when I was first here.

Although I was heading home, it was hard to believe that I would actually be there soon. However, I did feel ready. Maybe if I was coming straight home from New Zealand or Australia it would have been harder, but there were plenty of things in India that I couldn't wait to leave behind: being stared at all the time; having to haggle the price on almost everything; the lack of personal space; washing off a coating of dirt and dust at the end of every day. I also started to look fondly at things I knew I would miss: the vitality of the streets - in the UK people use roads as a way to get from A to B, in India the street is very much an outdoor living space, where people eat, drink, buy, sell, chat, snooze, or just squat and watch; the bright colours on a temple or sari that lift out of the brown and grey landscape; seeing many different religions practised side by side and so intertwined with everyday life; learning about the fascinating Hindu mythology and gods and seeing their garish, kitsch but undeniably accessible shrines; the delicious, varied vegetarian food.

India is full of contrasts. For everything that shocked or frustrated me, something else would make me smile or leave me in awe. The people have a great reverence for sacred places, yet side by side with that, is a seeming disrespect for their surroundings - or maybe they just don't notice things as much. For instance, on the banks of the Ganges I saw people praying and making offerings in front of a shrine, that was inside a small concrete bunker. At the back of the bunker, in full view, a mop and bucket was being stored.

I had heard many people say that you either love or hate India, but I think closer to the truth is that you love and hate it.

I shared a taxi to Mumbai airport with a Czech traveller who had been in India for 6 months, which was clearly too long! He looked like he had just emerged from wandering in the desert for 40 nights, had a long beard, wild hair, a strange combination of multicoloured baggy clothes and was carrying a HUGE rucksack, 3 smaller bags, a camera, a thermos flask and a very long, thin cloth bag that I later found out contained a selection of didgeridoos and bamboo canes. I had thought my outward appearance was starting to be more travellerish, but compared to him I looked like I'd just landed and the extra bag I'd bought to carry my overspill gifts and purchases looked restrained. We had a good chat though.