Week 3 began with the happy prospect of being able to move into a new house after the weekend. Thursday morning started late again for me after a late night working. Anthony went to meet Sudhir in the morning to arrange a paint job for the new house. The only problem with the house was the walls, which at one point had mean to be nasty pink were now an even nastier combination of hand oil, shoe marks, dust, and nasty pink. India is lots of weird and wonderful things, but it is not clean. Having said that, Anthony stumbled upon a thought in his book about India, which was simply: Whatever you say about India, the opposite is also true.

Thursday was our moving out day from the Hotel, having been there for almost two weeks. We paid our dues, left our bags in the foyer, and went to the internet cafe for a last hour or so. A lot had happened during our first few weeks in Pune, and the station area that had been our home during that time would forever stay in our minds as the setting for the opening chapter of our Indian adventure. The area we would move to is very different, and we often comment it is like being in a different town. The station area is lively with people of a different sort to those found in our common haunts these days. The one exception is on our walk to FC road which takes us through a shanty town, but even there life is calmer and cleaner than the life that can be found in abundance, at all times of day, around the station. We will miss the routine announcements and seemingly isolated set of three adverts that play loudly on the PA system there 24/7. Personally I will not miss the indiscriminate loud blasts of the intercity trains which also continue 24/7. We thought of going back to see the man in the Internet Cafe a few days ago when we passed through the station to go to the grand Meridian Hotel. It was not late enough at night. He was always there after 11pm, and was still there at 4 or 5 am when, on occasion, I left that late. He was always kind about giving us many internet tokens at the same time rather than have us buy them one at a time as we were meant to. So we left the cafe, our temporary office for 10 days, and headed over to FC road to meet Sudhir and hand over money for the paint job, before eating at a nice hotel.

In the afternoon we worked at Creative Burstt, an Internet cafe and software training centre Anthony had once ventured into to search for things related to property, and after getting to know the manager had returned a few times. Creative Burstt would be our office the following week as we waited for internet to be set up in our new flat. The people there appreciated our company, both kinds, and we often chatted to the students and the teachers. It was interesting to see what they learn and teach, and what the motivations are for those who pay, often alongside their university degrees, for software credentials and training. Finally in the evening we headed to Raj's place, were we dropped our stuff and began our journey to Goa for the weekend.

Raj and Yash had hired a 4x4 for the weekend with some other friends, which we would pay for by the mile (as well as for fuel), to take us to and around the tiny coastal state. Goa seems to be a pilgrimage for many inside and outside India, and for different reasons. Being a sandy and beautiful state is a major attraction in itself, but Goa also houses some of the most liberal and diverse cultures in India. Interestingly, it is predominantly Roman Catholic state, and there are a number of Portuguese inspired churches and cathedral scattered around Panaji. After a hearty evening meal we began our overnight road trip. I had the honour of sitting in the back with Yash to a allow a little more flexibility in recognition of my height, which is quite extraordinary for this country. As we drove through the night, I settled down and listened to music in an oddly cramped lying down position, half on the back benches and half on the luggage. At about 3:00am it stopped being a road trip, and started being an off road trip. The main road between Pune and Goa, shown as a national primary trunk road on the map, is actually not a road in the hills above Goa. It is a track, and not a flat one. The pot holes, which cover about 40% of the surface area of the road, are all a few feet deep, making them more like mini craters, probably caused by extensive truck wear and heavy monsoon erosion. For the first time in my life, I felt like cargo, not human. It was funny, I felt oddly at home and quite happy in my 'character building is a good thing' mood while music helped the ride, as I forced my head hard against the back door to stop it being smashed against metal every time we scaled down a crater wall and back.

We arrived over the hill before sunrise, taking in the warm morning air and the sights of the misty hills and greenery. The rest of the ride took us through the foothills and townships of rural Goa, which I enjoyed photographing. After settling in our hotel we headed to the beach. I spent most of the afternoon sleeping on a rock having had barely any sleep that night. In the evening we went to another beach and enjoyed a meal on the top of a shack with a view of the afternoon sun. I enjoyed the evening in my own way, watching the view, and the stars, enjoying the music, and chatting to a few people.

The next morning I had intended to get up early, before sunrise, to enjoy the morning coolness, but a bad boiled egg I had eaten in the rooftop salad the evening before was taking it's toll. I sent most of the day working at home. In the afternoon we took the 4x4 to Panaji, were a carnival was taking place. We soaked in some of the atmosphere, looked at a church, and then headed to meet a friend of Anthony's, Joseph, for a stake at a Portuguese joint run by a well known local. That night the guys went to a night market but still not feeling 100% I remained at home and continued work, and had a good long chat with Dad.

We left on Sunday morning, and the daytime journey back would be the best part of the trip for me. As others slept, I put my music on full volume, opened the window, and took in the sights and smells of first hill climbs and the plateau, and then rural townships and farms. It was great to soak up another side of India, a side that thus far we had not experienced. It was a marvelous few hours, and as we descended into Kolapur I was refreshed and happy. But a lot of what I has seen was not so happy. Incredilby, people stream from the rural areas to live in the bare streets here. They do so not because a job awaits them, but because they and their families are literally starving. The range of standards of living here is amazing.

Upon return we got to grips with our new local area by getting lost, after I stupidly assumed Google maps would know that terrain marked as through-roads had long since been destroyed to make way for houses,m fences, and yards. When we eventually got back we were delighted to see the house had been painted to order, in an act of such uncharacteristic efficiency I still wonder how much of a profit our agent took from our £100 + payment for painting the entire interior. We ate pizza after dumping our stuff, at the local Dominos, which was marginally better than the local Pizza Hut. Amusingly the back kitchen area was so packed with staff when we went to order they actually found it hard to move. There were at least 15 people in the tiny kitchen. 10 people for a 1 man job? Welcome to India. The mattress was hard, the room plain, but the view and surrounding perfect. Finally we had a house, and were ready to begin the next stage of our adventure...

Ok, here goes. I've been meaning to write for weeks but have been very busy with EnTrip. Once again I am sitting in a crowded cafe, as I love to do back home, but it's a little less peaceful here than it is in Edinburgh. The cafe is much more busy than the Princes Street Starbucks I am used to, but more than that, the music is very loud, the sound system pumping our volumes more suited to a club. I am the only 'westerner' here as well, making it yet more different. But although I am out of place for many different reasons (not least because I am alone, perhaps the only one), I don't feel uncomfortable. I've turned up my own music loud enough to drown out all but the noisiest sounds, and am ready to take a look back at the last few weeks.

I'll start where I left off, in the second week of our stay in India. For a few days I continued working on our database migration, taking occasional breaks for food or going out in the evening but mostly working from home or from the station internet cafe. One evening Anthony and I were in the cafe late at night again and something rather amusing happened. I looked up from my work when I heard the sound of a large electric motor being fired up just outside the cafe doors, in the foyer of the station. Before I saw the man wielding the large power drill outside something more striking caught my eye. There was another man a few feet away from Anthony's desk, fiddling with the two raw exposed ends of the plug-less drill cable into an electric on the wall. Every time he bent them a certain way there was a massive flash around the socket and the drill roared loudly to life before promptly dying. After about 5 attempts he found a way to keep the wire in the correct position without it falling out, and vacated to help his co-worker with whatever maintenance they were doing outside. Health and safety is not a concept that has made it through immigration here!

I worked at the weekend and on Sunday I went with Anthony out to the west end of the city to see the two top candidates for our accommodation. The first was a newly built site with 5 similar towers, a few of which were yet to be inhabited. A lot of work still continued daily and a few surrounding sites looked like they were being primed for foundation work of new buildings. As with all building sites many families of workers had their homes made from scrap materials in and around the empty buildings. Being further out of town the air was a little cleaner and the view a bit greener, but the location and building noise was not desirable. The second property we couldn't get into because neither the owner or our agent (sudhir) were around. Instead the ricksha waited while I had a look around the luxury complex. It was nice but the price was at the very top end of our budget and the location wasn't a great deal better.

But, we liked that one more because of the location, and having been in a hotel for more than a week were keen to find something, anything. So on Monday we arranged a meeting in the evening to seal the deal, pending a few issues we had to ask about before we were willing to move in, like air conditioning and internet provision. In the end we waited for almost 2 hours for Sudhir, because he had crashed into a ricksha and was at a police station. We had a look inside the place, Anthony for the second time, and despite the lack of air conditioning and high price agreed to go for it. The owner didn't seem too keen to let to us at a price he saw as quite low. I didn't get a good vibe from him - he didn't really listen to us or care a great deal. He had left the property during our discussions with the Sudhir, and when we eventually found him he said he was going with someone apparently willing to offer more. Sudhir seemed more disappointed than us, and dropped us near the Ferguson College Road flyover. We grabbed the best chai we had tasted thus far in India on the way home. Tea here always comes in small cups, and has almost as much sugar as it does milk. Tea without sugar here costs more than tea with sugar, an amusing consequence of the inflexibility of Indian systems and ways.

So after a promise from Sudhir that he would call us to arrange something the next day, we waited, and worked. We heard nothing from him all day. It's a theme here, and one you probably only pick up on as an outsider with experience of how things can be different, but in India you wait. Certainly if you don't know the right people you do. You wait for sales assistance, you wait for the menu, to be served, and the bill, you wait on the phone, and you wait at the station. But it's ok - what's the rush?

Wednesday brought a little more luck. In the afternoon we viewed another property that was a little nearer central town, was cheaper, and somewhat furnished. After yet more confusion and waiting, we hooked up with Sudhir and he showed us the flat. We liked it, so he went to get the owner. As a token of goodwill we paid a month's rent after a written and signed receipt from him. Here, the arrangement is that the agent takes 1 - 2 months rent for the privilege of finding you a flat, and you pay a ridiculous damage deposit, usually way more than 3 months rent. But Raj and Yash assured us we had a reasonable deal, and it wasn't just a case of being ripped off for being foreign. We could immediately tell that this owner was helpful and kind hearted, something which mattered a lot to us. The flat is two bedrooms, a large dining, kitchen and living space, and two bathrooms. Admittedly one of the bathrooms has an Indian toilet, designed (or not really designed as the case is) to simply be a squat area over a hole which flushes. Not the easiest thing for us westerners. After the evening closed, and all was said and done, we had keys and a place to live after the weekend. A weekend we intended to spend in Goa...

After rising, again AM, we went in a different direction in search of food. The restaurant right opposite the station was not bad, well certainly the mango juice and the price wasn't, which is always a good sign. We enjoyed some 'easier' food, before heading back to the hotel for a while. Again, Anthony went to meet property agents while I stayed back working on the migration. I took my camera out in the afternoon for a bit, but still don't feel confident using it in public.

Later on I went back to the internet to continue work. Towards the end of my time there I met an American called
Will. He was travelling for a year after finishing his physics degree a year early. An interesting guy, he had been in Pune for a about the same time we had been in India, staying with the family of a man he met on the train.

Two things I've learned about restaurants here. First, don't expect amazing service. The waiters are very polite, perhaps more than anywhere else, but that doesn't mean they are good at making sure you have your order. Today I spent 20 minutes waiting to be served after I had initially asked, only to be told that food starts after 7pm. Eventually I asked again and was served. In India, ask if you want to receive. Second, the first thing you are given when you sit down is a plate containing 3 foods which are the same wherever you dine: slices of lemon, raw red onion, and a small bowl of veg in a red sauce which I havnt yet tried but which Anthony assures me is nowhere near as spicy as it looks.

Today I got up at a much more respectable hour: before 9am. Almost immediately after getting up I started working on the database migration. It was good to finally feel inspired again by something creative and productive. An hour or so later when Anthony rose we headed in search of fruit and breakfast. I was still feeling a little uneasy in the stomach - a first 'taste' of travellers sickness? We had a tomato omlette which had no tomato in it. I spent the afternoon sitting on the deck of the hotel overlooking the street, coding away. Its great how easy it is to do what you truly enjoy, wherever you are. I had a snooze too. I've been oddly tired in the afternoon these days, perhaps it's because I still havnt got over jetlag properly, or perhaps it's because I've not eaten well since the beginning of the week, both of which I am to blame for.

In the evening I walked to a local place for dinner, along the back alley. The back alley takes you past a number of interesting and contrasting sights. First you encounter the poorly lit straight between a low wall and some very crumbly buildings. People live in them, I think. Their rooves are held together with sheets of plastic and precariously placed tiles.. Then the first strange behold yous: through one of the rooves a new satellite dish climbs boldly to the sky, suspended on its pole. Then there is a builders skip, which always has someone balanced on it scavenging for materials. A bit further along, down a side-alley, a row of scooters sits neatly, as if belonging to the inhabitants of the dark and eerie buildings they stand outside. But the scooters, orderly as they stand, have ripped seats, missing parts, and are covered in thick layer of that dust and soot we breath every day... So what's next down this dark and mysterious alley? A 5 star luxury appartment block, of course! Think I'm joking? This is Pune, a city of contrast. Two identical towers face each other, rising 20 stories and standing in a walled in, guarded communal garden featuring a floodlit fountain and a swimming pool. Just beyond the guards post and the high gates you are spat back onto the main street. This time I saw a dead rat in the street. It was huge, at least 10-12 inches and fat! Amazing.

Dinner took a while, but was tasty. Anthony joined me, and afterwards we spent a little time on the net before heading out in search of a beer and a good atmosphere. It was not easy. The first place we went to had beer but no atmosphere. We walked towards the centre but after asking a group of young people who looked like they were 'in the know' found ourselves no better off. The resounding message from the girls was 'there is no nightlife in Pune'. We weren't willing to accept it: undeterred, we pressed on. Moments later we bumped into someone Anthony had met when dealing with property! Meeting people you know on the street, often, seems to be a theme in India. 'Hello, and what is your good name?' Incredibly polite and well serving, he pointed us in the direction of an underground bar. It was playing some German heavy metal music! After a few drinks the lights went out. It only lasted a few minutes, during which time everyone carried on talking as if nothing had happened, of course. Although it was the first we knew it would not be the last power cut we'd encounter during our stay... Not much later, perhaps before midnight, the bar closed. We caught a rik home, having a discussion about the fairness and principles in foriegners being charged higher prices on the way. I reworked electronicholas.com for a few hours. Anthony sleep-talked his way throughout.