121. England. Where the cows live in fields and the internet works

Back home.  Feeling rather flat.  And full, having stuffed myself with all sorts of goodies, but I'd rather be having rice and dal, lovely though the goodies were they didn't really do it for me. I have lost a stone in weight!!!  There is more than 10% less of me than when I set off on this journey.

The journey home was as hassle free as it could be, but oh how I hate flying - its such an unnatural thing to do, it frankly terrifies me, it goes against all environmental principals and its just not right.  It isn't right to be in Delhi one night, in the heat and the noise and the chaos, and the next afternoon to be looking out of a train window at English fields and cows and hedges.  There is no sense of journey, or adventure, or of experience of getting there.  And when it came to it, I didn't want to leave, not even the heat.

In Doha, queuing for the plane to Manchester, suddenly I was surrounded by Englishness.  We are bigger, and pale, and we dress so differently, and colourlessly, and the men have boring haircuts (so many Indian and Tibetan men have the most gorgeous, elaborate hairdos) and the women have styled hair in so many different colours (nearly all Indian and Tibetan women have long hair, mostly tied back), and Manchester accents.  That was nice.  The Manchester people I know may be very down to earth, even rough and ready, but they have hearts of gold and are straightforward and give you this sense of standing shoulder to shoulder with you to face the world.

I keep thinking about the people I know doing that same trek right now, where they are, the mountains around them, and the trees and flowers, and the birds.  And looking down at my boots and thinking the dust on them comes from the source of the Ganges.

But when I walked through my door I had forgotten how lovely my house is, and my garden, and the 3 parcels sent home from India with my goodies were waiting for me.