Where's the Beef?

The difference between an Air Conditioned room and a non-Air Conditioned room at this hostel is about a pound. I’ve stayed in both. But ‘AC’ or ‘non-AC’ is a kind of code for something else. They’re pretty much the same temperature, with non-AC blasted by seven huge fans on the ceiling that make anything lighter than a rock flap and wave in their breeze. AC means bigger beds, better kept, and bigger lockers. AC means a balcony and four to a dorm. Non-AC means twenty stuffed into a room. While AC dorms have a toilet and toilet paper, non-AC guests have a hole and some kind of bucket system that I still haven’t worked out or plucked up the courage to ask about. I’m in an AC. Though I’m here to absorb the culture, I still need something to absorb my ‘culture’.

A meal here is about 70p and tastes pretty good. The water is apparently cleaned through ‘reverse osmosis’, but I’m not taking any chances, and so far no Delhi Belly. Despite the tasty Indian food on offer, I couldn’t help fancying a big ol’ burger and hopped in a rickshaw to a McDonalds in the rich centre of Delhi. I walked in and their menu seemed a little strange – no classic burgers as we know them, but lots with the word ‘tikka’ in them. And I twigged – no beef. Bloody deities spoiling my feast. All was not lost, however, as Pizza Hut did a nice Pepperoni pizza in their ‘foreign and exotic pizzas’ section of the menu.

The days are uncomfortably hot. It’s supposed to be monsoon season, but it isn’t raining. Sweat is your day companion, and mosquitoes your night. Magic has taken a back seat until I’m more comfortable and confident in the culture and its locations. I’ve been to a few places I’d like to perform on the street, I’ll go back prepared soon.

New Delhi, India

I am in India. The plane journey was fine – plus now there isn’t much point me being afraid of flying anymore after the taxi ride from the airport. The tiny cars, motorbikes and canvas-roofed three wheelers weave and dart into each others paths, horns beeping incessantly, with terrifying accuracy. The lanes aren’t noticed, and oncoming traffic is ignored. A rush, more like pins and needles, shot through my arms and legs when I saw my first gang of monkeys lurking on the roadside. But then came rows of blue tarpaulins, held up with a stick or two, home to whole families. At a junction, a young girl twisted her arms behind her head, and through a small wooden hoop she contorted her even smaller body, picking it up from her feet. Her sister played a drum on the floor, her brother begged in the dirt. Another young girl holding a baby slaps it in the face to make it cry. This is culture shock. Not the rush of new smells and tastes, but seeing how people are forced to live, while I just pass on through.

Some of the roads are wide and long, the buildings in the Centre are huge – Reebok, Nike, McDonalds are all here. The grand Victorian architecture exists a taxi ride away, but this isn’t the real Delhi. The roads are thin and caked in mud, the drains overflow with waste. At night, kids sleep on their backs on the pavement and in the road. Some, on their hands and knees, search through the rubbish for food. Slow, skinny dogs wander all over.

I’m in a big hostel in the diplomatic area, and have met lots of people, including Indians who’ve shown me around the city. There’s a lot to see and to learn. The three-wheeler taxis are called ‘tuk tuks’. Men here hold hands. Young women call old men ‘Uncle’. Indians often speak to each other in English; 'the Englishers left, but their language stayed', my new friend told me. It’s a very strange place, not quite like anywhere else and completely different to home. I’m still just finding my feet.

Here We Go!

After 12 months of planning, plenty of teeth grinding and eventually a few tears - we're off. This day last year, on holiday in Canada, I decided I wanted to travel for a year performing and now here we are. I'm now operating under new rules, borrowed from the worlds of drama students and the homeless - constant self-publicity and never turning down a free meal.

It's been a bloody long day; just got to my oldest friend's near Gatwick where I'll be staying until Saturday when I fly out to Delhi.

I can't thank my family enough for all their support and help, without which I wouldn't have got even this far. And I really want to thank my friends who gave me the most amazing surprise birthday I could imagine - it made my year to say the least - really unforgettable.

Next stop - New Delhi, where I'll gain a day - leaving at night on the 15th and arriving in India on the same morning. Great inspiration for a magic routine...