James J. Wakefield

Delhi is the largest metropolis in India, with just under 17 million people spread over 9 districts, one of which is New Delhi, the capital city. The most memorable experience of Delhi (and possibly all of India) for me was visiting a slum. After making a donation towards building a new school to educate children living in the slum, we were taken through a tour to see how many of the cities poorest people lived. Some of what we saw was hard, but a lot of it made for an extremely humbling experience. I’ve never seen so many smiling faces or felt so welcome in a place where I was a complete stranger. We never felt remotely unsafe and none of us were asked for money. There’s a line in Shantaram that speaks of the love Indian people have for eachother and for their country. It’s about how Gregory David Roberts believes that no other nation on earth could endure the cramped and crowded conditions of India and still have such love in their communities. I agree with that wholeheartedly. The slum we visited housed 2 million. It was far smaller than the average inner city suburb. There were million-rupee apartments literally across the street. Perspective can be everything.

After the slum walk we paused for the best chai in India.

Another spot we checked out : Qutub Minar - the world's tallest brick minaret (13th century)

Hussein departed for london - leaving me flying solo in India for 24 hours. I paid a visit to the spot where Gandhi spent his last days before his assassination. His last footsteps have been cemented in place.

The specs.

India Gate.

The last of the charras.

Manali is an important hill station in the Beas River Valley, sat on a river against a backdrop of the Himalayas. I'm not sure why it's important, but by all accounts it is. The area is breathtaking and reminded me of New Zealand in a big way. Marijuana grows wild, everywhere. Manali charas (hash) is legendary. Tibetan yaks are walked through the streets. I managed to bump into Victor (my tattooist), on a small side street in Manali, in a country of 1.2 billion people. One of my favourite spots for sure.

After spending the morning exploring Old Manali we went on a short hike with Victor and Julia to a waterfall in the hills. It was an amazing spot. We smoked some charas and enjoyed the sunset over the Himalayas.

Hussein is in this picture. Blending in and shit.

The next day we packed up and headed to the hills to check out the paragliding and zorbing. Like everything in India it was hectic, dangerous and dirty.

In March 1959, Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th Dalai Lama, fled to India after the failed uprising in Tibet against the Communist Party of China. The Indian Government offered him refuge in Dharamshala, where he set up the Government of Tibet in exile in 1960, while McLeod Ganj became his official residence and also home to several Buddhist monasteries and thousands of Tibetan refugees. It is known as "Little Lhasa" and it would amaze your face right off. We attended teachings by the Dalai Lama but I also had eye contact action and he waved at me so we're pretty much best mates now. He said I could call him D.

As Mcleod Ganj lies high within the foothills of the Himalayas the weather was as beautiful as the scenery and the people who live here, even a little chilly at night. Perfect after several weeks of 45-50 degree days.

You could say I had lunch with His Holiness.

Amritsar is a large city in the north west of India in the state of Punjab. Despite being so much further north it was still 45 degrees. It's the spiritual center for Sikhs and home to the Harmandir Sahib (Golden Temple in western media). The temple receives more visitors than the Taj Mahal, with between 100,000 and 200,000 people visiting every day. All those of Sikh religion hope to one day make pilgrimage to Harmandir Sahib to bath in the holy pool (the amritsar) which surrounds it.

Opposite the main entrance is Sri Guru Ram Das Sarai, a project to provide lodgings to devotees visiting the temple. For a small donation, rooms and floor space in the courtyard are provided to tens of thousands, while thousands more sleep in and around the temple complex. We slept in the designated room for foreigners. There's also a communal kitchen and dining hall, run entirely by volunteers, feeding a vegetarian meal to up to 180,000 people a day. It's the worlds largest free eatery and in accordance with Sikh custom, all persons are welcome regardless of their religion, colour, creed, or sex. They use 11 tons of flour every day making a quarter of a million rotis. Think I had me about 4 of them.

In the evening we took a taxi over to the Pakistan border at Wagah - Attari. This is the only border crossing by road into Pakistan and each night an elaborate and aggressive ceremony is held to lower the flags and close the border. Soldiers on both sides strut around like peacocks trying to out-goose step and speed march eachother, while the crowds gathered on each side dance and cheer for their country. Some of the soldiers damn near kick themselves in the face. For a notoriously volatile border, the atmosphere was strangely similar to a street carnival - just with more guns.

I've got a sweet video of the marching and stomping around. It was dark by the time we got back to Amritsar. I decided to walk around Sri Guru Ram Das Sarai for a bit and then visit the temple again.

In the morning I made some puppy friends before we left for McLeod Ganj.

The story goes something like this. In 1631, Shah Jahan, emperor of the Mughal empire, was so grief-stricken when his third wife, Mumtaz Mahal, died during the birth of their 14th child, that he had the Taj Mahal built as her mausoleum and testament to her beauty and the love he had for her. Nice one. Clearly she wasn't half bad to look at even after popping out 13 mini-mughals. Shah Jahan described the Taj in these words, which are probably better than mine.

Should guilty seek asylum here, Like one pardoned, he becomes free from sin. Should a sinner make his way to this mansion, All his past sins are to be washed away. The sight of this mansion creates sorrowing sighs; And the sun and the moon shed tears from their eyes. In this world this edifice has been made; To display thereby the creator's glory.

This was the view from our room. Scored a sweet upgrade to the honeymoon suite after a disagreement with the manager over the definition of air conditioning.

We returned that evening for the night viewing. You have to pre-register a few days in advance for a 30 minute window to see the Taj during the full moon. Turns out it was a cloudy night and a waste of time and money. Win some lose some. I did my best without a tripod.

I think a flash went off in this one. It was dark as shit and these were loooooooooong exposures. The clouds became an electrical storm and I stayed up til sunrise taking (mostly crap) photos and watching lightning strike over the Taj from our rooftop. Sitting by myself watching a storm clear into a perfect still morning over the Taj Mahal was the illest. Something i'll never forget.

Slept til early afternoon then took the train to Delhi and had enough time for KFC before the bus to Amritsar. First meat in 3 weeks. Couldn't say no. Sorry chickens.

We arrived in Agra and checked into our hotel just in time to catch a beer and watch the sun set over the Taj Mahal. It really is a fucking beautiful building.

This is me on a toilet in our shitty bathroom. Beautiful in a different way. The next day I got up at sunrise and had breakfast at the rooftop restaurant, watched me some monkeys and local kids flying kites for a bit, and then headed to Agra Fort.

Agra Fort is a 1000 year old brick and sandstone complex built and rebuilt by various rulers over the centuries. It was where Shah Jahan, the man who had the Taj Mahal built, was imprisoned after being overthrown by his son. He died in a marble tower with a view of his creation.

Probably being offered whips or postcards or drugs. From here we went to a workshop to watch craftsmen create marble and semi-precious gemstone inlay works of art. It's the same techniques that have been used for centuries, including all of the marble inlay on the Taj Mahal.

They start with a hand drawn pattern.

A craftsman creates the inlay for the stones to be placed.

The stones are selected.

And then shaped by another craftsman to fit the inlay perfectly.

The process takes from weeks to months depending on the intricacy of the work and can involve as many as 15-20 workers on a single peice. This is a simple tabletop, we weren't allowed to photograph the much more impressive masterpeices. From here we made our way down to the river that runs behind the Taj to watch the sunset. We had intended to take a boat out onto the river but with current political tensions and bomb threats only military are permitted to.

Khajuraho is little more than a small village in Madhya Pradesh, but is home to some amazing thousand year old temples covered in exquisite carvings and erotic sculptures (apparently unrelated to the Kama Sutra). Spit-roasts, men doing strange things to horses, 9 person orgies, it's all here. Yes.

Temple graffiti.

We had our afternoon siesta and returned to the western group of temples at night for the sound and light show - it was rubbish.

Hussein wanted a samosa recommendation. One of the hotel staff obliged him. We went to get the samosas. Hussein ate his. I took mine back to the hotel. At this point my bhang lassi was starting to kick in.

The staff and management in the lobby immediately wanted to know where I'd gotten this samosa from. Hussein told them one of their mates told us where to go. They asked who. He immediately snitched and pointed him out.

Up until now we thought it was because before then we had been eating mostly at the hotel. The guy in the hat told us to try these samosas and must have been in trouble for sending us somewhere else to spend money. They had a huge argument in Hindi for about 20 minutes.

From Kolkata we took a 14 hour train (turns out it took 18 hours) east to Varanasi in Uttar Pradesh. Varanasi is one of the oldest continually inhabited cities in the world - people have lived here for more than 3000 years. Cows and water buffaloes roam the streets freely. It is regarded as a holy city by both Hindus and Buddhists. It is the main city through which the river Ganges flows, on which offerings to the goddess Ganga are made daily at dawn. Despite being one of the 5 most polluted rivers in the world, people drink, wash and bath her waters every day, believing it will cleanse them of all sins. Bodies are carried on stretchers through the alleys past kids playing cricket towards the burning ghats where they are washed in the Ganges and then cremated on open fires. You don't take photos of the bodies unless being chased through the streets by hundreds of angry Hindus is your idea of a good time.

Here at Manikarnika Ghat (the main burning ghat) a phony priest attempted to bless us with ash from the burning bodies. He told us of the religious tradition of the cremations and of his make believe hospices and finally the need for us to donate towards the cost of wood for the cremations (at $5 NZ/kilo). Within minutes we were starting to be surrounded by his friends demanding payment. Didn't pay shit.

World famous blue lassi (best lassi in Varanasi).

Ayurvedic massage on the banks of the Ganges.

I thought I had seen poverty before I got to Kolkata. Here it's so extreme, and so in your face it was a shock for both of us. Something like 40% of India is below the international poverty line. There's literally people (and dogs) at varying stages of starvation at every other corner. I couldn't take photos of the worst of them. The heat is damn near unbearable, 47 degrees with humidity that made it feel closer to 70. A police horse died in the heat the day we arrived. There's a reason all of the guide books tell you to avoid India at the time of year. It's also the first city where we've had to watch our backs. Opium dealers and junkies have followed us through the streets and alleys at night. There's stories in the paper every morning of stabbings and 'thrashings'. It's amazing.

Hussein blending in.

The 'door' to our first guest-house.

Our first mango lassi. I don't care much for the mangoes back home.. here they will amaze your balls off.

Best sandwich and tikka shop.

38 degrees with A/C on.

The life of a rickshaw wallah. This rented hand-drawn rickshaw is the only means of income. The tarp behind him is the home he shares with another. During monsoon this is the only form of transport that can get through the streets. They walk barefoot through the water. Sometimes they will stand on glass or syringes. Other times they will fall through open manholes and get washed away.

9 hour stopover - went for a few beers on Khao San Road.

Before we left Beijing for good we had a chance to visit the home of a local family. It was down a narrow hutong and the family of three shared a one room, one bed flat. It was extremely humbling and one of the most magic moments of our time in China.

Afterwards we made our way to Helens for a few last drinks and put Nicole and our new room mate Neil in a taxi to another bar (almost went with them).

We had time for one last half-cut night bbq before we prepared a surprise for Neil and made our way to the airport.

This family fed us nearly ever night. Amazing food.

Last day in Beijing we went to Happy Valley theme park. Was like a filthy Disneyland where you can jump the line for cigarettes. Best way to say goodbye to China on a high.

These people will eat anything.

Lizard.

Dog.

Frogs.

Just next door to the zoo is the largest indoor aquarium in the world. They had some pretty cool creatures and we pretty much had the place to ourselves because all the chinese were watching dolphins jump through hoops. Check it.

Unicorn fish. I lost my shit.

Morays.

Patrick Star.