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• IA introduces Easy Fares, but drops Apex for the Andamans

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• Shimla
• Osian
• Devbagh

• Mudumalai
• Bishnupur

The bridge washed away in May and no vehicle could cross the boulder-strewn, mischievously gurgling M’pen River. There was no choice but to walk the 18 km to Deban. Once we got there, there would be no guarantee that we could cross the Noa-Dehing River into the Buffer Zone of Namdapha National Park where we hoped to camp for the following week. Uncertainty was to set the agenda for the whole trip.

It was an embarrassingly large entourage for two people to camp in the forest for a few days. There were seven porters, two tour guides, a cook, his assistant and a mass of things to carry that included literally everything but the kitchen sink - stove, gas cylinder, tents (different ones for sleeping, dining, shower and toilet), provisions, toilet seats, etc. I vetoed the blankets, pillows and a folding dinner table. I tried to veto the rosogolla tins but the cook wouldn’t hear of it.

The M'pen River wrapped itself around us, firmly nudging us downriver with the muscular persistence of a large python. It was already mid morning and the forest was quiet – you quickly get used to the steady metallic droning of the cicadas. The only other creatures about were large wood spiders and leeches. There were plenty of the small plain brown leeches but the ones that took my breath away were what I consider to be the world’s prettiest leech – a spectacularly beautiful large velvety brown one with sparkling emerald green stripes. They sat inert on leaves angling for passers by. Once onboard, they inched their way to a patch of bare skin and sucked their fill of blood. Given a choice of bloodsuckers like mosquitoes, ticks, horse flies, I’ll take leeches any day. They do not have parasites or transmit diseases the others are notorious for. They just suffer from an effective PR machine that promotes the larger-than-life prejudice against slimy, wormy limbless creatures.
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Backpacking across Souther Europe
By Mitali Saran

Are you one of those who’ve always wanted to experience Tuscan art, French romance, Swiss mountains, German beer, and Austrian sophistication; but who only sits around bleating about the crippling expense of a trip to Europe? This is for you. It’s about a European holiday that stops by four or five countries over 18 days, for a price tag of a little over Rs 1 lakh, including return airfare—and you don’t even have to have smelly dreadlocks to do it.

I still think I’m dreaming when I meet 14 members of the Mocha Backpackers Club at the Alitalia check-in counter at Mumbai airport. We’re all signed up for the ‘Euro 2006’ trip, created by people who know how to travel widely and well on the really cheap. We’re going to use the Busabout network geared for independent travellers, and stay at campsites. The group includes veterans of solo travel as well as neophytes who didn’t own a passport until a week ago. Some people are on a tight budget, others not. Some carry a backpack with three T-shirts and a pair of jeans, others suitcases stuffed with fashionable outfits and jewellery. It embodies the spirit of the trip: Do your own thing.

The Alitalia flight takes us via Milan, in a watermelon dawn, to sprawling vibrant Rome. We get on the blue shuttle to the Camping Roma campsite and join a long line of other backpackers checking in. I’m on a tiny budget and have come quite prepared to pitch tents and cook noodles on a camp stove; instead, the place looks like a university campus in the US. I can choose anything from a tent to an air-conditioned cabin with bathrooms and kitchenette—through doubles and triples, with or without attached toilets. Up the hill is an information centre, Internet access, a pub and restaurant, a pool. The common bathrooms are spotless. This is what they mean by camping? Things are looking way up.
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Burning Man Festival
By Rayna Jhaveri

Eight days of roughing it out in a vast Nevada desert might not exactly be your idea of a good time. There’s no electricity, no running water, no food or supplies to be purchased for miles. No room service, no laundry service and no telephone service. Credit cards are worthless, and there’s no manager to complain to. Daytime temperatures regularly cross the 100°F mark, the dry atmosphere continually wicks away moisture from your body, and, at an elevation of 4,000 feet, the sunlight is likely to cause rapid, severe sunburn. The sand--a fine powder left over from a dried-up prehistoric lake bed, or ‘playa’ (PLAH-yah)--is insidious and abundant; it infiltrates every orifice of your body, and is alkaline enough to give your feet a nasty chemical burn. Fierce dust storms—‘white-outs’--are sudden and common, lasting anywhere from several minutes to a few hours.

For one week each year, this harsh environment is the unlikely home to people in all manner of costume, outlandish performance and installation art, fire dancers, giant sculptures, a plethora of bars, lounges, and dance clubs, wacky theme camps, esoteric lectures, political discussion forums, drum circles, live music, yoga classes, massage and beauty parlours, spontaneous expressions of emotion, fantastic vehicles, and glittering, glowing, blinking lights beyond imagination.

Welcome to Black Rock City, Republic of Burning Man.
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