Today was my third visit to Virajpet in the hope that I might be able to track down Jeevan and his family, who were so welcoming to me last time (see For the Love of Three Oranges). After walking about 13 km on the first visit since my return, and about 8 km on the second, I was getting ready to give up, until I had another read of my 2008 blogs and remembered that I took a different road the day I met Jeevan. He is not near Devangeri at all, but on the other side of the...

In response to the queries coming from my curious readers, I should talk about a subject dear to my heart. I don't usually go too far out of my way for food experiences when travelling, although sometimes there are special occasions when a particular dish might be famous in a region. Just eating what everyone else eats is enough for me.

One thing I have noticed in Madikeri, which has been a downer for my writing, is that no one seems to want you lingering in their...

In preparation for my bus ride to Virajpet I dug out my sports bra. Not only was the juddering the same as I remember, but the constant hairpin turns at speed are giving my buns an amazing workout in my efforts to remain seated. The activity could be brilliantly adapted for one of those Wii games for people who like to exercise in private.

The scenery is as I remember except the season is a month earlier. The road alternately winds us through stubbled fields where the...

Call me a little slow, but I did not anticipate that Madikeri would be a centre for holiday-makers between Christmas and New Year. It's a Christian holiday, yeah? Although I should have remembered that New Year's is Big Party Time. Luckily when I paid for two more nights this morning, I found out that my hotel is booked solid from the 24th through to the 31st, as are most others in town. As luck would have it, my conversation with the Chitra's manager was overheard by a...

My last trip to Madikeri started from Mangalore on the coast; this time I would be approaching from the eastern side. I still remembered enough of the journey to curse myself for packing my sports bra at the bottom of my bag. Getting on at the station allowed me to get a seat and a safe spot for my pack. After half an hour of constant stopping prior to leaving town, we had converted into one of those mobile terrariums I'd seen earlier.

I find it interesting observing...

It's been years since I've carried my pack on my back. I sit it on the edge of my bed and I line my back up with it carefully, making sure all the straps are pulled tight. It's damned heavy but it's sitting properly on my hips and I balance out the weight by hanging my book-and-water-bottle-stuffed day bag off my front. It's only a shortish walk to the train station anyway.

The walk might be short but my shoulders don’t realise this. The stupid thing is my unexercised...

The two flight legs to India passed without incident, unless you count the five babies on board the first leg. Marvellous how the smaller they are, the more they sound like miniature chainsaws. A relay chain of chain saws, in fact. I guess that's what movies are for.

My arrival in Mumbai was similar to that of Delhi on my last trip - dead of night, polluted air invading the plane before the doors even opened, lots of shadowy activity around the plane. But inside the...