Mr Tony, defeated

My train was cancelled by the Naxalites. It sounded like a cross between "leaves on the line" and Star Trek, but was apparently because of a low-level guerilla war being waged in Bihar state, India. It was a bad start to a pretty miserable few days. Luckily though, they had put on another train that would leave at the same time and go to the same destinations. I didn't ask them in what sense, then, my train had been "cancelled". There didn't seem much point - that's just how things work here.

Anyway I got on to my next stop, Varanasi, on time. Apparently Varanasi is the holiest city in Hinduism. But it wasn't what I expected - mostly just cows shitting in the streets, and me being followed around by touts, salesmen, boat drivers and drug dealers. Then I spent the next 36 hours in bed, spectacularly ill. It was now 40 degrees outside, 35 degrees in my room, and about 100 degrees in my pounding, spinning head.

So for only the second time this year (the first being when I got man flu in Santiago, Chile) I thought I'd rather be at home. There's no better place when your ill.

I've bucked out of that now, though. Today I started eating again and tonight I head for Agra, to endure the tourist madness of the Taj Mahal. But in one way I'm defeated. Indian touts and the weather have beaten me. I planned to spend most of my final few weeks on a sightseeing circuit of Rajastan and Punjab, but my new plan is to head for the hills. Find somewhere where I can put my feet up, walk a bit, drink tea and relax.

Yep, I'm pretty glad that I've lost.