Having slept through my alarm it was a proper rush to check in at the airport to find I'd magically been upgraded to business class. Pyjamas, almost horizontal chairs and all the food I could eat! So welcome to the world of India, an incredible mixture of wealth, poverty, stunning architecture, ancient civilizations, religion, rickshaws (motor and cycle), tasty and bad curries, gracious and dodgy people, copious amounts of chai (tea), commission, cricket, no road signs, prices or toilet paper.

After several nerve racking stops, it took well over an hour for the taxi driver to find my hotel. The 45 degrees C and 65% humidity hits you immediately and I spent the first night, sweating away, trying to stay awake through the champions league final. The monsoons were fast approaching Mumbai so just enough time to see India for three weeks. So the first day was mostly spent planning my time and working out how to book train tickets; you have to know everything about the train you want to travel on in India; originating station, boarding station, name, number etc. What hit me about mumbai first was the poverty; scores of people sleeping on the streets at night and many different slum areas. This obviously makes people on the street very needy and a fair haired, solo english white boy makes for a prime target!

I stayed in the fort area, right by the famous CST railway station; just think Slumdog Millionaire. This was just the start of the stunning architecture in India. Over the course of the next few days I visited the gateway of india and taj mahal hotel, next to the Arabian sea. You should be able to see from the photos, that there are barricades surrounding the hotel, resulting from the terrorist attacks a few months ago, which I wasn't aware of until I arrived! You could still see the bullet holes in the front of the nearby Leopalds cafe. I took a taxi to Chowpatty beach, where many locals gather in the coolness of the evening, for sunset. My confidence now growing and realising how to handle people, I walked for an hour back to the hotel. During the evening I watched lampard score the winning goal in the FA cup final in a Colaba bar. On Phil Rowlatt's recommendation, I'd booked a table at Trishnas restaurant. The garlic and butter king crab tasted sensational - probably the best meal I had in India.

Most of us have been in a situation on holiday where we're hassled for attention or business by locals. And I've certainly had some experience on this trip so far. But really, nothing before in my experience has compared to India. In busy city/town centres it is impossible for me to walk for 2 mins without some local asking me something. Half the time this is simply shop keepers beckoning you into their store. And the usual conversation starters such as 'what's your name?' or 'where are you from?' which became tedious very quickly. I tried to be polite to people, but the incessant nature of these questions was at first frustrating. If you go along with it, very quickly you will be invited to drink chai. Which is all fine and friendly enough. But the next round of questions such as 'What do you want to do here?' is where it begins to turn sour. A local will obviously know how to get places, where to go, what to do etc. But this will always come at a price. There is such a commission led system in India, that if I buy something in a shop that my new 'friend' has bought me to, or a hotel, rickshaw, or whatever, then not only am I buying that good/service, I'm also paying extra as commsion to my 'friend'. In the unlikely event that there is no commission available to my friend, then I'm asked for a tip. If you consider this to be fair enough, then comes the big business discussion. Now with my new 'best friend' its explained that I'll make loads of money, in saving on import duties by taking some precious gems/stones/whatever, back to England with me. Whatever the product is, its absolute garbage and not worth the money at all. Simply a trick to try to part you with as much cash as possible. And there are plenty more examples of this throughout my story.

For such a supposedly religious nation, this devious trickery suprised me at first. How can people act so dishonestly for their own personal gain? The answer lies in poverty and because prices in India are so low compared with any other developed country. 10 rupees or 14 pence makes a real difference to a local, but to a tourist it is virtually nothing. So the exploitation is only encouraged when tourists fall for these commission based scams, over and over again. After a week I'd become hardened to it and the sad fact is that if anybody tries to stop me or gain my attention on the street, they are simply ignored. Of course this is in dealing with the lower classes. I also met plenty of nice, respectable Indians of all ages. I felt like quite a celebrity whilst sightseeing as people seemed genuinely interested in my background and many, asked to take my photograph.

So out of the hotel and 3 taxi drivers immediately approach me. 'You want to go to the station? That'll be 100 rupees.' Of course this is not the real cost of the service so I insist on using the taxi meter. The taxi drivers refuse and even the hotel porter (who I've already tipped) tries to persuade me 'it's not safe' to go with anyone else. Luckily another taxi driver pulls up and agrees to use the meter. I arrive at the train station and pay 54 rupees. I started to quite enjoy the 'battle' to be charged a fair price.

The previous British occupation of India meant a vast structure of railways lines had been constructed. I'd been told by many people that the real way to travel India was indeed by train. The chair carriage car wasn't much different to that of a fairly old carriage train from England; featuring the usual screaming babies, smells and people yabbering away. 10 hours passed reasonably well and next the game is to find out, at which is the correct station to jump off. There is usually one station sign as the train enters the station, but this is often in Hindi and is useless in the dark, looking through yellow tainted windows. We've now entered Rajasthan and the American sat next to me is pretty sure this is Ahmadabad, so we both leave the train. Its only when I'm chatting to a friendly Indian businessman in a cafe that I discover this is only the outskirts of Ahmadabad! He helped me find a rickshaw which took me to the main station, for my two tiered sleeper train to connect me to Udaipur. I can only explain these trains to be in old British compartment style. They feature bunk-bed like rooms, with either two or three beds on either side. But they provide a pillow and sheets, making the experience of sleeping whilst on your way to the next destination, a whole lot more easier to take.

So I arrive at Udaipur and the usual deluge of rickshaw drivers approach me. What happened next was by pure stroke of luck. Manu, my rickshaw driver, passes me a comments book from his previous clients, which are positively glowing. My growing cynicism with these situations makes me think how did he manage to come up with all these different styles of handwriting! Manu then hands me a hotel card and attempts to persuade me to see a room here before. So we arrive at the Hotel Mahendra Prakesh hotel. Its a resort kind of place with swimming pool, massage rooms and restaurant. I agree to pay 800 rupees per night, which was apparently less than the list price. A few nights here and I realise that its definitely considered 'off-season' for foreign tourists in India. There aren't many people around at all. Most restaurants have noone eating there and the chances to meet people my own age are few and far between. Indeed, the Lonely Planet describes anyone traveling in India during the summer to be a 'mad-dog.' But the positive side of this is that business is even more competitive and there's virtually always simple negotiation tactics to play, in order to gain a reduction in price.

Udaipur is famous for the Lake Palace Hotel's appearance in the James Bond film, Octop**** I vaguely remember it. But it being summer, the river is almost dry so it isn't quite as beautiful as it is after the rains fall. Manu persuades me to take me on a tour the following day and swings it be giving me a lift to sunset point. But it isn't all that great so Manu suggests taking the cable car. This led to a beautiful mountain top view of the city and this was probably the best sunset of many, during my time in India. The next day a friendly Indian picks me up in Manu's taxi. Its a two hour journey to the first destination of Kumbarlgarh Fort. Driving through the Indian countryside is an experience in itself. It was enthralling to see clothes being washed in the river, or ghats, women wearing brightly coloured robes, carring huge jugs of water on their heads. Families waiting endlessly in the hot sun for their bus to arrive. And crops being attended to next to watercourses. We arrive at the fort, featuring 36km of surrounding walls and inside, 360 temples. Its a massive complex that I could have spent the whole day exploring. We stop for lunch at a newly opened restaurant, over looking a river valley. Its here that I discover that the main part of the establishment is for tourists, who are charged on average 5 pounds for a three course meal and drinks. But the other side is for the taxi drivers, who pay as little as one-tenth of this price for their food. Being white is certainly a disadvantage in this situation and appearance makes it virtually impossible to pay locals prices. Onto the Ranakpur temple, which is completely carved from white marble. A monk showed me around who explained that his father and indeed many generations before him had looked after the temple. It was beautiful and unlike anything I'd seen before. I'd taken along the FM transmitter we bought in New Zealand - the taxi driver seemed to quite enjoy my music on the long road back to Udaipur.

The following day I visited the City Palace and museums - yet more great ornamental buildings. And then a half day city tour with Manu, featuring the Ahar Centotaph and Tombs and some gardens. Later on Manu and I sat half way up the mountain, of Sajjan Garph (or Monsoon Palace) drinking beers. Manu is quite a character. He is a 40 something year old Muslim Indian, who has a wife, sons grandchildren and four girlfriends. He owns land upon which he grows tomatoes and other vegetables. He also grows opium seeds of which he provides a small proportion to the government, with the rest being sold on the black market. He owns a small, budget hotel but spends most of his days collecting tourists from the train station on his rickshaw, and taking them on his tours. His wife is apparently happy that Manu has other girlfriends, as she recognises Manu's sexual requirement is far greater than hers. Whether this is all true I'm not completely sure, but he really had no reason to lie. I really enjoy in depth conversation (with no hidden agenda) with locals such as this.

On my last day in Udaipur I had an Indian cooking lesson. The group of us were shown how to make masala, biryani, chappati and various other dishes. The secret is apparently the Indian 'Spice Box' consisting of 7 basic dry spices, of which every respectable Indian kitchen has. I'm looking forward to trying some of these when I return to England.

Back on the train and another overnight sleeper to Jaipur, known to many as the pink city. Not much sleep on this train as its three tier beds with screaming children, so feeling quite tired. A young man approaches me and asks 'Pre-paid rickshaw?' which the Lonely Planet recommends, so i follow him. It soon becomes clear that the pre-paid rickshaw stand is closed. I agree for him to take me to his suggested hotel and take an a/c room for 500 rupees per night. The rickshaw driver, Andy, knocks on my door and invites me out for drinks that evening. He shakes my hand 5-7 times after I explain that I will decide later. After some rest I'm having lunch in their restaurant and Andy's friend, Raja, appears to further persuade me to drink beers with them that evening. 'Money doesn't matter, only friendship' he explains! I head off to catch a rickshaw, to explore the city. I visited the Iswari Minar Swarga Sal (minaret lookout) and city palace that afternoon, featuring the world's largest silver bowls, before bumping into Ali, another rickshaw driver, who takes me to see the elephants, a few shops and finally Galta, where hundreds of monkeys live at the Monkey Temple. Its now dark and we head back through the city to the hotel. Raja has apparently been waiting for 3 hours for me to arrive! I tell him I'm too tired and quickly head up to my room. A few minutes later, a knock on the door and the three rickshaw drivers come into my room. 'Why do you not come? We've been waiting long time for you?' And so the pressure continues - this time to a ridiculous level! Upon the fifth or sixth time of asking they finally leave. What is interesting here is that Andy and Raja had never met Ali before. Yet it took just a short while for Ali to join in the persuading. I could only conclude they'd paid Ali off! I complained to reception the following morning and then guy started persuading me to go on Andy's rickshaw. Hell no! I explored the remainder of Jaipur that day and bumped into a friendly American, Joseph. Hawa Mahul is a pink sandstone structure that was constructed so the Maharaja could keep his 14 wives watching over the city. Jantar Mantar is an observatory featuring giant sundials and other instruments to chart progress through the zodiac.

A 7 hour train ride leads me to Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. I find a room with a view of the Taj for 350 rupees - just under 5 pounds. Not realising quite how far away the Agra Fort actually is, I walk over 2 miles in the blazing sunshine. Afterwards I agreed a price of 60 rupees to take a cycle rickshaw over the Yamuma River to the Itimad-Ud-Daulah, known as the Baby Taj and the back of the Taj Mahal. This was again further than I thought and I felt quite guilty sitting in the shade in the back of this rickshaw, whilst he was panting away, biking us along the dust tracks. He said he didn't mind as he is usually only paid 50 rupees per day. Back at the hotel and i reward the driver with 70 rupees. To this he acts shocked and asks for more money. I explain that I'm actually tipping him based on the price we had previously agreed. As I walk off I'm accused of being 'not nice man'. The desperation for money here is simply ridiculous! Early in the morning I visited the Taj Mahal. Its as stunning as they all say and I took all the photos I could ever need.

I wait for two hours at the station for the train to arrive which takes me to Delhi. Its even further delayed by the time we finally arrive and i'm shipped off to a hotel via a rickshaw fairly easily. I change hotels the following morning and find a brilliant a/c room at Ajay's Guest House in Paharganj for 600 rupees per night. Having hardly stopped since Udaipur, I spent the rest of the day planning and relaxing. Back on the sightseeing trail, I walked down Rajpath, from Rashtrapati Bhavan to India Gate, then visited Humayun's Tomb and Gandhi Smriti. This is the place where Gandhi was assassinated and features concrete foot prints of his final steps, leading from the house (now an interactive museum) through the garden and towards the temple. Afterwards I walked through Lodhi gardens and to Connaught Place. This is the centre of New Delhi and is very westernized. I bought a new 8gb memory stick for 4 pounds at the Palika Bazaar (underground market). The following day I went to Raj Ghat, where Gandhi was cremated and the Gandhi museum. Gandhi is a very interesting character. He's pictured on every bank note in India and is regarded as the father of the nation. I'm reading his autobiography right now entitled 'The Story of My Experiments with Truth'. The way in which he lived is endearing to many people and I find this inspiring. Final stop for the day was the red fort, which was different from the other forts I've visited as this one featured vast open spaces.

Next day it was hop on, or rather endure, the 'luxury' bus to Dharamsala, home of the Dalai Lama. 13 hours of being shaken about as the bus which seemed to have little or no suspension on the very bumpy roads. But we eventually arrived early in the morning. The actual town is called McLeod Ganj. The Chinese invaded Tibet in 1947 and the Dalai Lama left for exile to live here in 1952. Shortly afterwards, on visiting China to negotiate, a group of Tibetan delegates were forced to sign a 7 point plan, effectively surrending Tibet to China. And since then its grown as a tourist town, sitting in Himalayas - so been nice to cool down for a few days. Its ulimately very sad, as obviously China is a growing force in the world, so the immediate future appears unlikely to me, to be awarded the' freedom' that Tibetans crave. And rightly so, because they are recorded so far as 6000 years BC. The country of Tibet could offer the world some real opportunity with their buddist culture and peaceful ideals - its a very relaxing, simple and rewarding place. With a lot less hassle than other parts of India! I visited the Dalai Lama residence with its two temples and Tibet museum. About a mile Further down the hill is the tibetan government houses with library and small cultural museum. And even further down is the larger town of Dharamsala, where all the Tibetans live. I would have liked to have spent more time here as the trekking opportunites are massive and I wouldn't have minded to try some meditation classes either. The bus I took back was more expensive, featured a/c and some sleep for part of the way, so much better than last time.

So India has definitely shown me all sorts of different cultures. It is a fantastic country, full of diversity. Unfortunately this also creates negatives and the hassle factor is something that the country will have to deal with, would it like to attract more Western tourists. I'm now back in Bombay, having flown down from Delhi this afternoon and onwards to Bangkok tomorrow morning. We continue!