As scenic mountain retreats go this one's a doozie. A cool respite from the insane heat of the southern lowland oven, green hilly landscape backed by majestic snowy peaks, clean air and a very chilled vibe. Thank God for McLeod Ganj, hippy hangout, trekking base camp, spiritual Mecca and home to H.H. the Dalai Lama himself, along with the whole of the Tibetan Government in exile.

Not your usual fly-posting

McLeod Ganj is another 'must see' stop on the discerning tourists trail and as soon as you get there from bustling Dharamasla you realise its special. It feels like a sanctuary. We had booked in to a 10 day Vipassana course a little later on, however, after our hellish multi-boneshaker bus trip up here through driving rain and dubiously precipitous hairpin bends we decided to ignore all he hype and activity for the first few days and get a comfy hotel with cable TV. It wasn't until about day three when we finally surfaced that we realised we were the Dalai Lama's neighbours. What a view!

Wandering through the curio shops and multiple charity based village co-operatives (nothing quite like a good cause to revive you of your cash and fill the rucksacks with genuine yak products) was our most energetic pastime, along with the occasional coffee and cake in one of the fabulously situated cafe's-with-a-view.

View from the hotel terrace, the Dalai Lamas house

Amanda went around all the flyers and notices pasted along the streets, jotting down phone numbers and addresses because as usual she didn't want to miss a thing. Amongst other things we could learn Reiki, Tibetan massage, a hundred different kinds of yoga, cooking from dozens of different styles, ear wax removal, regression therapy, multiple meditation methods, music therapy and pretty much the entire political history of Tibet from one source or another. We decided to get a little more active after a couple of days glued to HBO and joined in the voluntary conversation sessions with ex Tibetan political prisoners.

Off to the monastary

These were normal people who, for reasons as sad as owning a photo of the Dalai Lama, the spiritual hero and guide had been arrested and imprisoned and in all cases we heard tortured. (For this particular crime I met a man who had been incarcerated without trial or sentence for more than four years). Some ladies had endured forced sterilizations simply because the Chinese wanted to cull the Tibetan population. After their release or escape they then walked over the Himalayas in jeans and sneakers for more than a month through snow and blizzards to Kathmandu, risking exposure and indiscriminate Chinese bullets. It has been unthinkable torturous life so far for these people, but they all seemed amazingly free of bitterness or anger, laughing and joking with a dictionary in one hand and 'mala' prayer beads in the other. They were very interested in Knowing "is it trued that in the west people get married twice?" and other such culturally polar opposite questions that shocked them as much as them telling us about their 5 hour a day meditation rituals.

Following His Holiness

We managed to run into Hannah (who we'd previously met in Hampi, several days journey south) who came along (with her mother in law Jilly and Kate) to a momo cooking class. The kitchen was just big enough to accommodate us all and we spent a few happy hours covered in flour and soy sauce trying to (very badly) roll disfigured little pasties full of potato and veggies. They tasted great though, if I take one thing home with me after all my travels it will be the ability to create sadly misshapen Himalayan snack food. Through this cooking class we found out about other events but on by the same people, particularly talks by ex political prisoners only recently out of Tibet.

YUM-O, momo magic!

Proper Tibetan chefs

We spent a memorable night listening to one such monk, describing in detail how he was imprisoned and tortured for a year without charge, then found guilty of possessing books by the Dalai Lama and moved to a Chinese prison for a further four years. He was released and took part in the March 2008 demonstrations, then imprisoned again before escaping and coming to India. An unbelievable story, made more surreal by his bouts of good humour and laughter as he described a litany of cruelty and genocidal injustice perpetrated upon him and his people by the Chinese colonisers. He still has problems with his ears and eyes from the torture.

Ex-political prisoner, safe at last

We had spent a while in Tibet a couple of years ago, but learned virtually nothing about any of this. With the complicity of such freedom enjoying businesses as Google and Yahoo the Chinese Government restricts the flow of information into Tibet, allowing those their to learn only their version of the truth, freedom of speech does not exist, freedom of information is a bad joke. It takes a trip to India to learn the other side of the story, both side have a reason for bias, but I know where my sympathies lie.

The man himself

The Dalai Lama is a busy man, and his entourage of organisers and political monks make a bit of an effort to not advertise his movements too freely. They are aware I think of the army of well wishing tie-dyed tourists hoping for a glimpse of His Holiness in action. We are however built of sterner stuff than most and (by luck really) discovered that the main man himself was going to a village called Norbulinga, some 20km out of town the following morning to open up new temple. Hannah and Jilly (Mother-In-Law) and Amanda and I determined to be there as well. News travels slowly and cautiously it seems, so the next day we joined the ranks of the devout Buddhists, locals and monks along the road to Norbulinga, and noticed very few fellow travelers there. The Dalai Lama secrecy machine had evidently done a top notch job. Soon enough a cavalcade of cars came past and the crowd stirred, then no more than three feet in front of us drove the Dalai Lama, smiling and waving in his lovely, childlike way. I could see him giggling to himself at all tense silly people come out to see him perform another dull opening.9 He has professed to be bored at such events)

Our Himalayan hike

We engaged the crowds forcing and shoving their way through the small gate into the temple, got given a bowl of veggie rice (nice) and a cup of genuine Tibetan butter and salt tea (not nice), found a good spot to sit and saved a space for Hannah and Jilly, not as good at cruising through packet crowds as us. Soon enough the Dalai Lama appeared inside and began the serious job of chanting a lot and swaying backwards and forwards (do our religious rituals seem as daft to theirs?). We took it in turns to climb the temple steps and watch him do his stuff before it was time for lunch, which was put on for free by the temple for hundreds and hundreds of people.It was great.

There was no real point in going back in for the last bits of the ceremony, we were only there to see the main man and that tick was already achieved. We had been forcibly removed at one point from the steps. Oh Dear! We went back to McLeod Ganj (after a quick visit to an orphanage to meet yet more children, give yet more donations and buy yet more 'stuff') happy, he was off to America in a few days and our chance would have been lost forever. A local French cafe, Lhamo's croissant, put on amazing croissants and a film about Tibet every night at 6.30pm, so we went there to celebrate.

Proper Gompa

Feeling a bit lazy with our cable TV and hot water en-suite bathroom we decided one day to take a bit of a trek, not too far you understand, just enough to stretch our still legs. With support from Hannah and Jilly as well as a nice couple we'd met at the French place the night before we all trooped off to a nearby lake aver a steep hill and through the surrounding evergreen forests. It was a very hot day and we were lookin forward to a rest and a cuppa when we got there, but were sorely disappointed. The Lake was a dried up brown puddle of mud and plastic refuse, the village around it nothing but a collection of half finished houses and closed up shops. If it hadn't been for the amazing views on the way the morning would have been a total waste. We managed to crowd into a lovely Tibetan woman's living room for a coke and a sit down, before taking the shorter main road home. That's the last time I'll be doing any walking in India I think.

McLeod Ganj urchins

In all we spent quite a long time in McLeod Ganj. It was a great place to relax, nice and cool, friendly and very tourist friendly, but we had an appointment with the Vipassana centre on the top of the hill that came round all too soon. We sadly said goodbye to the constant policals film supplied by the restaurants, packed a separate bag (for the tiny list of things allowed on the course), and headed off. We'd be back for a couple of days for last minute shopping and one more fix of movies, but we knew we'd be heading south soon, to Rishikesh, Delhi and finally home.

The word "nostrils" will never seem the same again! 4am won't be 'going to the toilet in the night' time but that special time of the day which I now know from experience the vibrations of the universe are strong and perfect for meditation. I know exactly how to draw ladybirds (mentally of course), how many spots they have on each wing and which part of the plant they like to snuggle into best. I know that if I work ardently, patiently and persistently, I am bound to be successful, bound to be successful!

My meditation cell

Even though I was the one who suggested Vipassana, Jeremy had decided after staying at Amma's ashram that he was definately doing it. Still the night before I was only 80% sure and the cold Himalayan weather was doing nothing to encourage me. I really couldn't imagine sitting for 11 hours a day AND shivering! The weather changed, the sun came out and I decided that 10 days such as these would never present themselves again. The timing was perfect. Whats 10 days compared to a lifetime.

I loved the silence. I was never worried about that. When do you ever get to 'be' without the facades of the personalities you create and enact to others. I loved that there was no need to be polite and pretend.

I quite liked my little 'meditation cell' because the surprise of getting my own room far outweighed the worry of scorpions in my bed. In fact sometimes I was in such a meditative state that watching spiders crawl across my walls was magical. I could have as many blankets as I liked and even though I could hear the Estonian lady next door talking in her sleep it was my little sanctuary.

E Block

For the first 5 days I was literally buzzing. I walked around the garden beaming, engrossed in the the nature I was lucky enough to be living amongst, the fir trees and the all the grey faced monkeys. I used tree branches to massage my head at break times, developed a 'swing the stick on a rope' game which I convinced myself was all in line with my meditation but really it was probably to relieve boredom later on. Every body had a routine and soon enough you knew it to. Who walked clockwise and took the forest route, who was quick to bag one of the only places in the sun when it poked through the trees, who went straight to bed at break times, who never used the shower, who took double fruit helpings. You invent a life for most of the fellow meditators, their country of origin, their job, their marital status, how many children they have, how long they have been traveling. On the tenth day when we were allowed to talk I was pleased to find that I was mostly right about people apart from the lesbain German who was actaully married to a local Tibetan and was Irish!

A sneaky pic of the mens side of the Dhamma hall

I became known as the meerkat by the lads because even though I had stressed to Jeremy that under pain of death we were in it alone and we must obey the 'noble silence' of speech body and mind, after day 5 I was in need of some attention of some sort. I used to poke my head up after the meditations looking for some recognition from him.

Breakfast was lovely, especially every other day when it was grape porridge. The taste of the milk tea was exquisite, especially as you were only offered it twice a day, the second time being at the main meal, 11am! This too became normal. I had a stash of bananas in my room left over from earlier meals such a fear I had that I would be hungry after the 9pm meditation.( yes 9pm!)

I was petrified of the 'strong determination' hours, where you were not supposed to move at all. Now I know I can do it! I was bound to be successful as our teacher Goenka would say!

The canteen on our last 'talking' day

I had an excellent relationship with my teacher. I think she probably just used me for entertainment, her being the only person I could speak to I went to her with all sorts of questions all very relevant to me at the time. "Where is my epiphany?" " I don't want to become enlightened if i can't be reborn" " How can I be compassionate to this person or that person when they have wronged me so much" "What are you going to do about the snorting woman behind me"

On day 5 I felt a free flow of energy throughout the whole of my body for about half an hour. Maybe they call it bliss but in Vipassana its just another sensation that we are not supposed to get attached to or place any label of positivity or negativity on. 'Anicca' Remain equanamous, this is the teaching. On day 7 the concentrated areas of gross sensations came back and I grew a little bored. I felt like I knew how to do it! I had cabin fever and I missed Jeremy.

Purposfully 'overhearing' Jez's talks with his teacher did nothing to help me get closer to him and his thoughts, it just disrupted my meditation and encouraged me to try and smuggle him a note inside the lid of some muscle rub. This failed and I had my one and only 'moment'. Some would call it hysteria! The Dhamma worker tried to encourage me to 'remain equanamous' to the fact that Jeremy was testing the theory by purposely putting himself through pain. He had chosen to disgard his chair built to spare his bad knees in order to feel pain and practice remaining equanamous. I was furious as he clearly couldn't walk. I insisted to all the female workers that he be sent a message to change his chair. While I was supposed to be understanding that "this too will change" Jeremy was in the mean time becomming more and more disabled. Oh did the tears flow.

Together again

Lasting till day 10 was a massive achievement for me. When I saw Jez again I cried my heart out on his shoulder shaking. And we still had one night to go, being allowed to communicate was an effort to help us assimilate to the real world. It didn't extend to staying in the same room or indeed any physical contact.Great!

Goenka, the teacher comes alive on video in the evening discourses every night and we all looked forward to them. Not least because we could sit against the wall. Sometimes he made the girls side laugh a little and it did create a sense of comradarie which was nice. The men however sat still and strong and determined, all very solemn.

The girls side

Vipassana is an art of living and a life commitment. you get out what you put in and it remains to be seen if I will commit to 2 hours practice every day. I am happy I was given this opportunity though and at at the perfect time in my travels where I can move into the new phase of my life with a little more security in the knowledge that real life is really just beginning!

Ten days, no talking, no touching, no eye contact, no nooky, no nothing; eleven hours every day of deep, deep meditation starting at 4:30 am and ending at 9 at night, just in time to collapse onto the 'bed' provided in your tiny featureless cell. Welcome to Vipassana. Welcome to Prison.

So what was it that made us, two fairly normal, sensible people from fairly normal, ordinary backgrounds want to subject ourselves to such a disciplined and strict monastic regime, had nearly six years living from a bag in one flea ridden hotel room after another set our brains to a slightly strange vibration? Or maybe we just didn't know what we were getting ourselves into... Neither of these things is true (mostly), we'd met enough people who'd already been through the course to know what it was all about, and still wanted to do it! So what is it all about then?

What it's all about then...

The barrier between me and my wife

Vipassana means to see things as they really are. To understand the deeper meaning for life the universe and everything. More simply the basic theory is that life is full of misery for people solely because they judge their experiences as either good or bad, develop a craving or aversion to these things/experiences based on the sensations they have as a result of them and whether it's a craving or and aversion will ultimately lead to suffering as a result (very short version). The idea of Vipassana, a technique developed by Gotama Sidhartha, the Buddha, two and a half centuries ago (under a tree) is to sit, focus the mind on the physical sensations that cause both cravings and aversion and come to the experiential realisation that they are all temporary and impermanent, therefore you one should give them no real importance. The next time you develop positive or negative feelings towards something you can then discard them as immaterial and forgo the misery and unhappiness that greed or hate or whatever will create. That's the general idea anyway, then there is the fundamental link between the mind and the body. Bad experiences and emotions occur at the mental level, but because the mind and body are so closely linked they also affect the physical body. In order to exorcise these deep rooted past 'pain bodies' (sankharas) we can either work on a mental level (go see a psychiatrist) which is problematic and complicated, or work on a physical level. Once one aspect is dealt with the other drops away. A spring clean for the soul. A hoovering of the heart. A polish for the psyche...

My meditation cell

And so, after telling each other not too so much as look at one another for the full ten days we arrived in the Dhama Sikhara centre in Mcleod Ganj. www.sikhara.dhamma.org. We deposited all books, pens, peanut butter, guitar and anything liable to take the mind away from its task at the main office and split off into our sex-segregated sides of the centre. There were about ninety other attendees, none of whom we could talk to. The vow of 'noble silence' commenced that afternoon (not just silence in terms of speach but of body and of mind too) We ate (the food was amazing), found the 'Dhamma Hall' (Dhamma being the name of the technique used by the Buddha) and began.

Getting down to business

The technique is simple, almost scientific and totally results orientated. Goenka, the guy who set up the Vipassana organisation tells us not to believe a thing we have heard from him or anyone else unless we try it and see it working for ourselves. I liked that. So we started, sitting on cushions we focused our minds on our breathing, all the meditation was conducted using the present reality as a focus (ie, not by imagining a flower, or staring at an Ohm symbol or chanting a mantra) The idea is to have us firmly fixed in the now, to understand the present and not to react to it. So the breath is normal and regular. This took almost two days of eleven hours a day work to accomplish!

Then we began to sharpen our minds towards our physical sensations. At first only the area of face around the nose, focusing on the physical sensations there, then after a few more days on the whole body. Our reactions and judgments of outside stimulae come to our senses, then are processed and recognised, then we have a physical reaction, a value is put upon them based on that physical response, and we generate craving or aversion. We could hear words, its the boss talking to us, it is praise, we feel good things, we crave more praise; or if it is criticism, this feels bad, we develop and aversion towards it. Both eventually will lead to unhappiness. So the cognitive link has to be broken between recognising our sensations and appointing them a good/bad label. This is done solely by feeling our present state of physical sensations with a very high degree of awareness and equal equanimity. If it is pain, it is pain, it will pass so there is no judgment label. If it is a pleasurable sensation, fine, so it is, all things pass so there is no label. In this way we can accept the reality of the present situation with balance and not develop cravings or aversions towards it. What is happening merely is, it is neither good nor bad. In this way our reactions to life's trials and tribulations are controlled, we lose the misery.

Working on ourselves

After a few days of sitting cross legged for 11 hours I felt pain, which wasn't very nice, so I got a few pillows and a back rest and made a comfy nest to meditate in. But this misses the point, it only proved and strengthened my aversion to pain. Then I realised this, and understood that in order to be completely equanamous we had to feel both painful and pleasant sensations, I threw away the backrest and cushions and settled down to tell myself that the agony was necessary. From the fourth day we had to sit completely still, three times a day for an hour at a time. With my bad knees this was going to be hard but I was determined to get through it. Only through this process and very deep meditation could the very deep rooted past sankharas be released. So I sat cross legged and concentrated on the understanding that all pain is ephemeral, impermanent and short lived. I knew that as soon as I moved my legs to stretch the pain would go. After forty five uncomfortable minutes I felt like someone had held my leg over an open fire to roast, the pain was unbelievable, but I refused to move till the full hour was up. Fifty minutes, then fifty five. Then finally my brain gave up hoping I'd move and released a bloom of endorphins into my blood. Suddenly my pains were gone, I felt very floaty light and amazingly serene. The hour finished and I could hobble off for a five minute cup of tea. But I didn't make it to the kettle. After the physical concentration of past emotional memory has been excorsised must come the mental exhalation. They are inextricably linked and one does not exist without the other (that's why you can work on the physical level to help the psychological.) I walked into my room and compulsively sobbed for twenty minutes. No idea what the cause of it all was, but it had to come out. A river of tears for some past misery, finally released. It was very very strange but liberating.

Vipassana rules

And so through experience I began to understand how this technique works. The deeper the meditation the deeper the sankharas that come out, but only if your mind remains balanced and equanimous. If at any time you feel a sensations and decide it is bad, or pleasurable, that is you developing new sankharas, if they feel good you generate frustration when they go, or turn into aches and pains, if they are bad you develop aversion to them and start getting unhappy. This is the central tenet of Vipassana. Impermanence is the universal natural law, remain equanimous, aware and alert and focus on the sensations of the body.

We did this all day, every day for another week. And amazingly the pain became no more abhorent or pleasurable than the tingles or twinges or pulses we felt as our concentration got more and more focused. Soon the pain disapeared altogether and we delved beneath it to discover a natural vibration, a universal subtle energy flow all over the body. This is pretty deep, but deeper still the material substance of our form melts altogether till we can experience the reality of our true nature, waves and particles of matter and energy, virtually formless and vibrating along with everything else in the universe.

But that takes a few more than ten days. Also a long beard, scraggly hair and a nice cave to live in somewhere in the Himalayas. I was happy to not feel any more pain, though the thought did occur to me that this was missing the whole point.

Getting Blissed out

Anyway, meditation aside, the food was great. Wholesome Indian rice, dhal, curries and curd. Good for the body, good for the soul. We ate breakfast at 6:30am after two hours of meditation, lunch at 11:00am after a further three, and no meals at night, just a cup of tea and some fruit at 5. This was the life of a monk, or a nun that we'd signed up for. Just for ten days but it had its affect. I was able to go deeper within myself than ever before and root out some very strange physical residues from past pains.

I missed Amanda of course. It was really hard to be segregated, but harder still to meditate in the same hall, but not be allowed eye contact or any communication at all. I got told off more than once for sneaky peeks. The silence aspect of the course held no problems for me though. I actually enjoyed it very much. So much energy is used every day in talking, and with a hundred new men and women around you develop a personality, a front, an ego that is different to who you really are. We all do, its part of human nature. At home you become the father, husband, flat-mate; at work you're the office clown, or the diligent secretary, or the hard working loner; with your friends you're a different person again, someone else in the shop, someone else to the waiter in a restaurant. It's exhausting and builds layers between that and what you are inside that are hard to pierce. The silence was a balm for me, no need to talk, be friendly, make jokes, be sociable for ten days. Sounds a bit odd maybe but I think we'd all be the same under those circumstances.

Our fir tree home

The routine continued, and we got more and more focused on our physical sensations (as a way of knowing our minds) until day ten. After the morning meditations were over we were allowed to talk. Which was very, very odd. Amanda and I met in a no-mans land of sex-segregation, but still couldn't touch. We were being let down slowly, deflated from the intense introspection of the previous ten days. Getting prepared for re-admittance into the real world. Meditation continued, but only the three hour long stillness sessions of 'strong determination'. Our group could finally get to know each others names.

Enlightement calling
And soon after it was over. We left so much lighter than we went in, energized and focused, though completely knackered. It is a very, very strange feeling coming out of a vipassana course and I recommend it to anyone and everyone. Don't believe the jargon, don't think its good because someone tells you or because you've done lots of research into the theory. There's only one way to really know something and that's through personal experience. I have no idea how this technique works, though it is a fascinating process which I have spared you the lions share of. I just know it does work and that's enough for me. I don't sign up for the religious mumbo jumbo, and nor does Vipassana, it sees itself as a natural science. No God, just nature and a natural physical/mental process that gets recognisable results. I'm coming back to England with a new way of surviving life's ups and downs, and next year visiting the Vipassana centre in Herefordshire for another ten days. It's worth it.

We left with the crowd now that the fun was all over, and would have been gone from Amritsar the very next day, there really was nothing else for us to see there, but for the proximity of the Pakistan border. It's here, where two nations meet that a ritual pantomime of aggression and sabre rattling is performed every day to a rapturous crowd. Each evening the border gates are closed between these two countries that so recently were one, with such pomp and daftness, we just had to go.

Pure patroitism or just good fun!

Nor were we the only ones, our minibus for the half hour ride had a nice couple from Canada in as well as a girl from Australia, we decided to sit together and keep each other safe from the exuberant spirits we sensed as soon as we got out and started walking through the surprisingly large crowds to the border itself. The air was full of expectation and festival, as though the greatest show on earth was about to start. Large concrete seating was stepped up around the gates on both sides to accommodate the eager crowds, clearly the Pakistani's liked this performance as well. We found our place after a rigorous searching in no less than three checkpoints, passport checking and admonishment that I had made the mistake of bringing along a packet of crisps (clearly a dangerous terrorist packet of crisps), which I had to leave with the border guards for my own 'protection' (not as stupid as they look). Ours was the premium tourist concrete steps right at the front. Through the guard posts buildings I could see the border guards limbering up for tonight's show, they were all immense individuals, well over six feet in height with bulk to make me seem like a small child. Obviously the idea was to intimidate the Pakistani guards as much as possible, though it failed to work, if possible the Pakistani guards were even more huge. They must be feeding them well over there.

All very stern

Music played at criminal volume, flags were handed out to the masses, drinks sold and presumably hidden packets of crisps munched surreptitiously as we waited for the action to begin. Then, with a booming voice screamed through a microphone the guard sergeant announced the start, I imagine he was telling the Pakistani side what a mob of spineless girlies they were and why didn't they bugger of home and knit some pink dolls clothes or something. The crowds reaction was appreciative anyway while the smaller crown over the fence waited for their big scary sergeants reply. It boomed over to us quickly, probably something about the Indian guards not getting their frilly nickers in a twist or they'd be liable to trip over the the hems of their nice flowery dresses.

Forcing a point

That was it, a line of giant border guards, somewhat ridiculously dressed in too short trousers and sporting a fan on their heads sprang into action. I was less inclined to laugh at their daft attire when I saw it included large fully automatic weapons. One by one they broke off from the line, expressions of abject fury on their faces and stomped in as aggressive a fashion as I have ever seen towards the border gates. They stamped on the ground with force enough to send bowels leaking and screamed silent challenges at the Pakistan guards, who in their turn looked as angry and up for a war there and then as the Indian lot. If it is possibly to be violently provocative, furious and threatening while standing stone still and doing nothing these guys were there. Then it was the Pakistani side's turn, while the comperes on each side screamed patriotic slogans repeated and cheered by the crowds the soldiers one by one peeled off on each side and stormed towards the border as if intending to invade and slaughter every member of the crowd on their own. The crowds for their part loved it all. You could tell by the way the soldiers faced each other down, exaggerated their movements, stamped about and generally caused a big fuss, that they too were having a ball. There was no real anger there, just a show of it. The soldiers from each side probably sent each other pretty cards for birthdays and Ramadan (or Deepawali) and played cards at the weekends.

Out of the way Amanda

Flags were waved hysterically and national slogans screamed, the gates after lots of puffing and panting were violently slammed shut in the faces of the opposition (the boisterous watchers loved that bit), and the ceremony was over. Really a lot of fun was had by all, the guards went off for a nice long massage and a hot cup of tea, and Amanda and I shook our heads in amused disbelief and headed off home for a Domino's Pizza! It was just like the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, assuming the palace was being stormed by a mob, only joking really, but with pitchforks and flaming brands they didn't intend to use. A show of aggression, tongue in cheek between two countries that in reality actually don't get on, and more scarily really are on the point of political, if not armed violence. I walked away thinking of this possibility and the funfair feeling flooded away. It's all very jolly to play at war when there are no bullets in the gun and the combatants can go home to their wives and kids after a busy day shouting over the fence, but the reality is a real possibility out here.

We caught a bus the next morning for McLeod Ganj, up in the cool, green foothills of the Himalayas for another lesson in reality. The Dalai Lama lives up here, along with the Tibetan Government in exile. We were hoping we might get a glimpse of His Holiness, and also if we were very lucky we might even get to see Richard Gere himself!

City of the Lake of Holy Nectar, Sikh central, Amritsar is far, far north of Goa in the heart of the Punjab, a cool, hilly balm to ease the sweats of India's ultra hot season in the south. There was also the famous Golden temple to see, a tourist attraction far more popular than the Taj Mahal where Indian sightseers are concerned, a pilgrimage for everyone it seems. The City itself was no big joyful discovery. On arriving it looked as dirty, smelt as nasty and felt as dusty as any metropolis in India. We spent half an hour at the train station trying not to get ripped off, then gave up and ended up near the Golden Temple itself. Glimpses of this fabulous complex kept us hungry for more while we found a dingy place for the night, settled down to loud car engines and beeping horns while the only English movie channels remained only half blurred and incomprehensible on the TV.

The Golden temple



And so our first night in Amritsar turned out to be about as enjoyable as our journey there. Our seats on the train were on a waiting list subject to cancellation, but we were numbers one and two on that list, widely encouraged by everyone we asked and told that the first fifty or so always got their own seat. Our train was the exception. No-one at all canceled and I was forced to spend the first half of our 34 hour journey sharing my place with a nice, but very tall and space consuming man. The conductor hinted that for a price he could get him a different place and a helpful Sikh guy volunteered to 'help' in this backsheesh process. I resisted for the majority of the day and only relented when everyone else had tucked themselves up for sleep and I was still there, sat uncomfortably with this Indian guy looking down the barrel at a whole, miserable night of half smiles and no conversation.

Safe and secure in our hotel home

On our first morning in Amritsar things picked up considerably. Having been told that staying in the pilgrims accommodation at the Golden Temple was the best way to see it we checked out of the flea pit we'd spent the night in and wandered round. Unfortunately the 'foreign tourist only deluxe pilgrim accommodation' turned out to be a small room crammed with sagging, dusty metal beds complete with extremely dubious looking stains that spoke of a long and somewhat colourful history. We politely backed out of the place as quickly as possible. Besides, the rooms we were expected to stay in were just as far away from the temple and any temple action than the hotel we'd stayed at the night before, yes it was a bit cheaper, but whats a pound saved compared to a bit of luxury, privacy and safety from parasites, rashes and strange lung infections. We trooped once more through the temple area's maze of alleyways to the street we'd started off in, found without much looking a lovely room, super cheap, comfy, TV, all mod cons and precious few tropical viral diseases. This was a morning very well spent.

Typical India

And so to the reason for our long and tortuous train trip, our scarily loud nights sleep, our slow progress through the hotel options of this place, and more pleasantly our discovery of the 'Tasty Bite' fast food restaurant... The Golden Palace. It is the Sikh holy place, their Jerusalem, Rome and Mecca all rolled into one. In this rather small, but very beautiful temple is housed their most sacred artifact, the Guru Granth Sahib Ji, the original Sikh holy book. As profound as an original copy of the bible to the Christians, assuming it had been written by the hand of Jesus himself. The Darbar Sahib (as it's called here) is completely covered in gold. Lots and lots of it, so when the sun goes down the lights that shine upon it are reflected back a hundred fold. The walls really do glow magnificently. It's surrounded by a holy lake, the Amrit sar, or Lake of Holy Nectar from which the town takes its name and has four wide open doors, one on each side, as if to welcome all people of all faiths equally. And we did feel very welcomed when we finally made it inside. We had to take off our shoes and cover our heads as a sign of respect, but then so did everyone else. Then we walked around the Lake in a clockwise direction, again like everyone else, queued for entrance and were then allowed to snoop about everywhere. No door was closed, no area too holy or sacred for a non-believer. I really liked that.

Following The Holy Book

Inside the temple the devout sat for a few minutes watching priests read aloud from THE Holy Book, then withdrew politely to make room for others. Amanda and I went to a balcony area upstairs to soak up the spiritual atmosphere, watch the proceedings below and abide our time till the evening drew on. At ten that night and every night the Holy Book is taken out of the temple and laid to rest for the night, a ceremony we were anxious to see. At the allotted time a crowd grew outside (which we'd anticipated and gotten in to the front early) as a huge golden stretcher, almost a palanquin is brought across the bridge to the wide gates of the temple. Men jostle and push in, for India its in a lighthearted manner, for the honour of carrying the book if only for a few seconds. The great tome is carried out, placed in state at the centre of the stretcher and carried with ceremony out to the room where it stays. It was quite a commotion but really great to experience, especially from the middle of it all.