Saab kooch milega

Well.
My most recent journey started from Jaislamer, after three contemplative and magical days in the desert. The next day I bit the bullet and booked a 12 hour overnight, sitting bus to Ahmedabad. I was sad to leave, I'd been travelling with a very good friend i had made earlier in my trip, in Dharamsala. Even though Heather had left me a week before I'd been travelling with this charasmatic and crazy guy from Canada. It was only after i said my final goodbye to him and started making my way through the sweltering, vibrant and twisting streets to my bus that I realised what i wonderful time I'd had in his company. I was pretty overwhelmed but at the same time I felt liberated and alive.

On the "delux" bus I was the only blonde, and the only female travelling alone. I had forgotten how much attention i get after travelling with "Mr beard" for a week and five minutes after getting on the bus an indian man sat down next to me: "What is your good name?" i told him unenthusiastically, then the next thing he said to me, after a small pause "May I have your home address and contact number?" Hah!
Sometimes the questions I get I don't believe I should grace with an answer but they hold your gaze with such sincerity and seriousness, as if I am to turn around and say "ok, here's my address, number, and oh, why don't you stop by my hotel later. It will be bundles of fun"
Sometimes I feel I have starred in a porno that only I am oblivious to.
Aaaanyway, If I'm not careful, this will turn into a rant, I'm not saying all men are like this here, there are some genuine guys but I just notice the dodgy ones more.

So, after 10 minutes on the bus, another westerner stumbles on, safari hat, hiking boots and GPRS hanging off his 200 euro trek pants. I don't like using people's real names so from now on I will make up an alias for each person... Lets call him Henry, cause that's what he looks like. Me and Henry decide to pair up and spend the 12 hour, uncomfortable ride in companiable silence. At 5am we arrive in Ahmedabad, a big, dirty, dark, and smoggy city. We somehow find a bus which will take us to another place in Gujarat, from there we can get to Diu, my last minute destination. I was sort of planning to go to Bhuj, in the Kutch region of Gujarat but it would have been harder to get there and was also slightly put off by an article in the paper (since the Mumbai attacks i have been religiously studying the local papers) A new and most proven theory so far is that the terrorists have smuggled their way across the Sir creek border point in Gujarat, Kutch region. There is a grey area in the border between india and pakistan where there is hardly any security, it is owned by both countries but at the same time, owned by no-one. The locals call it "Harami Nala" I know that harami is not a nice word and if referred to a person it means something like bastard or orphan. Not so nice. So anyway, they believe the terrorists smuggled themselves across this area disguised as fishermen. It also seems the whole of Gujarat is being vigilent, there are police everywhere in Diu, apparently looking out for terrorists. Some have bicycles and sticks and i have no idea how it works. what exactly does a terrorist look like?! Whatever, I'm sure they have a system.

So diu is like a breath of fresh air in the the sticky atmosphere of inland India. As soon as I came into the Gujurati region the geography changed considerably, palm trees begun to emerge from every roadside and the land became even flatter than the desert. Miles and miles of marshland and salt pans stretch unbelievably pancake flat before my eyes. The poeple changed too, they become smaller, their faces more european looking and the women less conservatively dressed.
My first site of the Arabian sea was less spectacular than i expected but I was not disapointed by my first dip in the sea. Last night I floated in the very salty and calm sea and watched the sunset upside down. It was nice. So yesterday was a mixture of good and bad. The bad, I was unable to withdraw any money from the bank and found myself with 15 rupees to my name, I had a very unhappy stomach and the moped i hired broke down on a dark road after sunset. the good, there is always a way round everything. After a regrettable outburst at the indian bank manager, a fellow lone female traveller hands me 2000 rupees and tells me i can pay her back in goa. I meet some wonderful people who cure me with cheap rum and a sweet faced police officer fixes my bike with the flick of his hand. Anything is possible.

Excuse me while I have a lunch time swim :)