I'm not saying I'll never take a long-haul flight again, but that's not likely. My husband Andrew and I are doing our utmost: to leave the hassle of air travel and jet lag behind and also do our bit for the planet; and pursuing a passion for Europe that will keep us happily occupied until our traveling days are over.
But before we stopped, there was one country we had to visit again.
It's the country where, for every disturbing or annoying thing that happens, something fascinating, uplifting quickly follows. In 1983, before we got older, Andrew and I spent three enriching, never-to-be-forgotten months traveling in India. We were determined to return, this time with our eldest son, Alexander.
I actually started the trip not with them, but with my old traveling companion Widge, on an almost circular dive to Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh in the north of the country. Our route took us from Lucknow to Varanasi, Khajuraho, Panna National Park, Orchha and the Chambal Valley. Here we met Andrew and Alexander, who then embarked on a quieter week with me, stopping in Agra and Delhi on the way north to Shimla in the Himalayas.
When I last traveled to India I was on a budget and it was quite a testing experience at times. The poverty we witnessed - still present but certainly reduced - was difficult to bear, train stations were pandemonium and the bureaucracy mind-boggling. We were young and it was fine, but now we're not young and fuss and confusion are not okay.
This time, guided by experts and pampered by a tour company who collected, delivered and arranged all arrangements, our path was serenely smoothed as we immersed ourselves in today's India, economically stronger, rapidly modernizing and yet still a whirl of intoxicating sights, both urban and rural, colours, sounds and tastes. Our goal upon the return was to harvest those sensations and store them away for good.
Sights to see
History, often dramatic, sometimes brutal, somehow seems to roll over India like a wave, leaving poignant, half-forgotten memories of once powerful dynasties and rulers, not least the British. The wide boulevards, historic buildings and faded grandeur of often overlooked Lucknow can be traced back to the Nawabs of Avadh - patrons of music, dance and culinary arts - and to the British Raj. Amid the remains of the Residency, our guide Samir vividly brought to life the siege of Lucknow in 1857.
The story continues
That evening, Widge and I embarked on a lively street café tour in the hectic, honking lanes of Chowk, where we indulged in some of the city's famously fragrant, slow-cooked specialties: buffalo pasanda, nihari curry and flat, marinated kebab . On my last trip, food safety had been an issue; not this time: we ate very well, without any effort.
It's entirely possible that you'll tire of temples in India, but the cluster of amazing Hindu and Jain temples in Khajuraho is exciting. Freed from the forest vegetation that almost overtook them after a visit by British Army Captain TS Burt in 1838, they and their many rare and detailed erotic, blush-inducing carvings now stand in a manicured park, immaculately restored and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Location.
Orchha, on the other hand, has a more desolate atmosphere, an enchanting island oasis of long-abandoned Mughal-influenced structures, surrounded by the Betwa River and the forested landscape beyond. They appeal to the imagination, while the village around them, with a respected Hindu temple, is remarkably friendly.
And who could forget the Taj Mahal? Forty years ago, Andrew and I had stood in front of it, so young, the future unknown, and here we were again, this time with our grown son who had wanted to see it with his own eyes. Its extraordinary beauty, floating, ethereal and lacy white, never disappoints.
Delhi, on the other hand, disappointed. We found a city now seriously polluted and traffic gridlocked, although an early morning stroll through the dilapidated streets of Chandni Chowk, thanks to another wonderful guide, Girish, proved to be both an instruction in Hindu philosophy and an actual lesson are. Haveli Dharampura, a restored Mughal mansion, provided a characterful, historic retreat, where we could fly kites from the roof at sunset and watch the sport of kaboortar-bazi (pigeon flying) in the morning, as we had done with our host backpackers' guest house all those years ago. Compared to the budget-imposed inconvenience of 1983, every hotel on this beautiful journey, comfortable without bubbles of unrealistic luxury, felt right for its location.
Natural wonders
How I love, then as now, to contrast city life with rural India. On my previous visit I never saw a tiger, but this time I did during a game drive in Panna National Park. It was exciting of course, but the sight of the beautiful landscape, filled with gradually awakening birds and animals and surrounded by the River Ken, lingers in my memory even more than the majestic tiger.
On the riverbank we stayed in the hidden Sarai in Toria, which blends in perfectly with the natural environment. It was designed with great care by nature photographer Joanna Van Gruisen and her conservationist husband Dr. Raghu Chundawat. It is a place of true relaxation, where we took a magical morning boat trip, during which the sky was filled with birds, including many kingfishers.
Mela Kothi - Chambal Safari Lodge - was another idyllic rural spot, voted by Alexander as the best place he had ever stayed. It's hard to disagree, as friendly local landowners Ram and Anu Pratap Singh have created a cultivated and homely base for spotting crocodiles and freshwater dolphins on the Chambal River as well as birdwatching, nature walks and village visits. Alexander felt particularly happy there, and his photo of a gharial crocodile now adorns a wall.
Intoxicating colours
The colors of India have stayed with me for forty years, but I wondered if I would still find them among the sober clothes of the emerging middle class in the fastest growing major economy in the world. I didn't have to worry.
Even by Indian standards, Varanasi remains a kaleidoscopic color bomb, packed with sari-clad pilgrims, orange-clad saddhus and pink-clad priests. Widge and I had both been to the holy city of Lord Shiva before and both felt quite withered among the jostling sea of people and piles of rubbish, but this time our stay was at the historic, newly renovated Brijrama Palace, in the heart of the action and our balcony seats at dusk for the ceremony of light transformed the experience into something intense and enchanting. Who could forget those burning ghats seen during a sunrise boat ride?
In 1983, we hitched a ride in one of India's famous, brightly painted trucks after our bus broke down. The roads were bad and the driver alarming, but we survived. This time our transportation was in excellent trains and chauffeured, air-conditioned cars on recently constructed highways. As for the cows, nothing has changed: they littered the highway in their sacred impenetrability and we zigzagged around them as before.
Towards the end of our journey, Andrew, Alexander and I found ourselves in a small red carriage with silk curtains and a painted ceiling, clicking along to Shimla. Opened in 1903, the toy train winds spectacularly into the foothills of the Himalayas.
Shimla is also full of color with its brightly colored houses. What remains of the former summer capital of the Raj can be found in the car-free center. As we walked along The Ridge and The Mall from Christ Church to the Cecil Hotel and visited the 1877 Gaiety Theatre, frozen in time but still going strong, I felt that Shimla's development, from the first bungalow built in 1822 to the sprawling mountain metropolis today, encapsulates the ever-changing history of India.
Eight miles away, on the site of Lord Kitchener's residence, stands Wildflower Hall. Purple parasols, edged with yellow, frame the view of the snow-capped mountains from the beautiful terrace of this exceptional hotel, a deeply relaxing and pampering final stop. It was very different from our last days in India in 1983, when I lay in a clinic in Shimla, sick as a dog.
I didn't know at the time that, in addition to a serious version of the usual complaint, I was also pregnant. Nine months later our lives changed. Alexander was born with autism and developmental delay and lives at home, where he enjoys playing the keyboard, making models, cycling and taking photographs. Despite these joys, it has been a lonely and sometimes traumatic road as he struggles to fit into the neurotypical world. By introducing him to India, we somehow felt like we were coming full circle. It was one of the reasons we had to go back.
Essentials
Fiona Duncan was a guest of Ultimate Travel (theultimatetravelcompany.com), which offers a 15-night trip to Northern India including accommodation, private transfers, guides and international flights from £5,490 pp. Her tailor-made itinerary costs from £5,985pp, including B&B accommodation (full board at Sarai in Toria), two exclusive jeep safaris in Panna National Park, private viewings with local guides, train, domestic and international flights
