Some advice

If anyone asks if you've been here before, say "yes, many times". If they ask where you're from, say China.

It was good advice, from an eccentric German that I'd met in Varanasi a few weeks ago. In the last thirty years he'd been pretty much everywhere - to Macchu Pichu when you could get in for free, to Angkor Wat while the French were still excavating it, and to India, many times.

I was feeling pretty low, with the dicky tummy and the relentless hassle from touts. Twice in Varanasi I was literally chased down the streets by crazy people. But his advice worked - they only ask where you're from to work out how much money you've got (saying the UK or England or Britain is always met with a sage "ahh, rich country"), and ask if you've been here before to work out if you're a soft target. I don't usually say China. It seems a bit rude. I say New Zealand, which sounds pretty poor.

Needless to say I rarely tell people I'm a civil servant. They're held in high esteem here. Which is unusual cos they mostly seem to sit around making my life difficult. So I say I'm a student, or a spy.

Anyway I didn't have much cause to lie in Punjab cos most people seemed to have better cameras, clothes and phones than me. But back on the road the occasional untruth (or mis-remembering, as Clinton would have it) has come in handy. So in Corbett Tiger Reserve, about ten hours by ramshackle buses from Chandigarh, my New Zealand student who's been here many times got a half-day safari for about ten quid. Didn't see any tigers but who cares. I saw some indistinct footprints and some elephant poo.

And from there I finally made it up into the mountains - firstly to a hill station that could've been Scotland (right down to the funny smell), and now onto a mountain village where Ghandi hung out. I'm staying in a small place that probably used to be owned by a hobbit. But it's ok, the New Zealand student who's been here many times got a small discount.

Apparently I'm in the foothills of the Himalayas too. But to be honest I can't see fuck-all. A combination of forest fires and heat haze. Just 25 miles from me is a range of peaks reaching 7,800 metres, but all that I can see is a fine, grey soup. It's a bit like standing on the south downs and not being able to see the Isle of Wight (if it was straight in front of you and about 6,000 metres taller).

So tomorrow I'm off again. My last few days of restfully watching the mountains have been replaced by a mad dash to get closer to the buggers. Which cos of the mountain roads will mean ten hours by bus and jeep.

Wish me luck.