India

Our new trip has departed Kathmandu under the aegis of a new leader Ben, who hails from Australia, and with a whole new set of passengers hailing from Brazil, Ireland, Mexico, Oz, Sweden, the UK and the US, thirteen of us in total. We also have a new truck named Archie, who is slightly smarter than Tonka, but essentially very similar. The first port of call was the Chitwan National Park where I got my introductory full-on wildlife experience of the trip, walking out into the jungle, helping to wash elephants in the river and getting close up to rhinos in the bush while riding on the back of an elephant.

Soon enough we were heading onwards to the Indian border which we crossed with astonishing informality compared to any other border crossing since Europe. Ben had advised us (or perhaps warned us) that in order to enjoy India you need to have patience, a sense of humour and be broad-minded. It was sound advice, as it's proved to be a country that hits you immediately and with full force right between the eyes.

The scenery here in Uttar Pradesh is unremarkable after what we have seen in Nepal, a rather relentless vista of a flat, green landscape dotted with trees that break up the small fields. However, it is the human and bovine dimensions of the place that jump out at you, quite literally a lot of the time. In this sense, India assaults your senses like no other place I've visited. It's noisy and crowded, it smells, and it thrusts sights before your eyes that challenge you deeply. Today, in Varanasi, looking out on a street scene from a motor rickshaw, I watched two street urchins crouched on a low wall crapping into the street below. Meanwhile, half a dozen pigs troughed away on a whole pile of excrement already deposited at the spot. I decided not to order pork for lunch.

Driving in Archie we are a constant focus of attention. No matter where we stop people will gather immediately, often in large numbers, simply to stand and stare at us. They are polite and friendly, and seemingly mesmorised by our presence. If you walk around the back of the truck to get something from a locker they simply follow you round, crowding in to get the best view of whatever is happening, but not seeking to interfere. Ben calls them the staring squads. Of course this lack of privacy or any developed sense of personal space in India can be a bit problematic if you've stopped for a roadside pee, and in the worst instances it's sometimes necessary to set up a locker-related diversion at the truck to allow one or two of us to slip away unnoticed behind the bushes. In the towns you tend to get pestered a lot more directly and more often by an endless stream of young men apparently convinced that the only thing getting in the way of you buying whatever tatty piece of junk they are shoving in your face is a mutual agreement on the right price. As a result they are not remotely fazed by you telling them that you're not in the least interested, and just persist in giving you the sales pitch. In the worst places it can get quite wearing and it's hard not to be rude.

Indian towns and villages are ramshackle with many decayed and dilapidated buildings, a profusion of low-slung electricity cables leaching power in all directions, and generally a busy shopping street lined with cheap food stalls selling tasty curry based meals for around 25p. The road quality is quite good for Asia, but when faced with an obstacle course of wandering and seated cows, local drivers are forced to take a fairly relaxed approach to staying in lane and the rules of overtaking. Everything travels relatively slowly as a result, and the intention to overtake another road user, whether it's a bus, a rickshaw or a cow, is announced by a deafening blast on the horn. Bicycles and bicycle rickshaws are ubiquitous, with motor rickshaws more evident in the cities. Cars are less of a sight, though there are some fabulous old fifties style vehicles still in service here as taxis in Varanasi. The roads are also fully used as a convenient spot to dump rubbish, go to the toilet, and in the case of poorer folk as a bed for the night. There seems to be a general attitude that with so many cows, goats, dogs and pigs wandering around that everything will get eaten in the end. It takes a bit of getting used to.

I particularly like watching the people (call it revenge) from the safety of the truck or a rickshaw. The women are often beautifully dressed, invariably in Indian clothing of sari or salwar kameez. The men generally wear western clothing and it's clear that the moustache still reigns supreme among Indian males. You also see some hilariously awful haircuts which, like the cars, seem to faintly mimic a fifties rock 'n' roll era image without quite pulling it off.

I think it's still too early to make up my mind about this place which is probably why this piece is a bit impressionistic in style. I'm loving the sights so far and find even the difficult stuff fascinating rather than simply tedious. Taking a dawn boat ride on the Ganges at Varanasi this morning to watch people bathing at the ghats and cremating the dead was very atmospheric and interesting to see. We'll see how the rest of the trip unfolds.