India: Kolkata. "Kolkata Baby Yeah!"

As the Tibetan roads were subject to "landslides" we had to head back to India to catch a flight to Bangkok.

After catching a taxi from Kolkata airport our taxi drove us through a slum and proudly noted that the inhabitants were Muslim scum. After meeting wonderful Muslims like Bilal in Pakistan this trip sure has opened my eyes to different prejudices. Anyway, we were dropped off at our hotel. As I was unloading my bags I caught the eye of a local man who was taking a dump in the gutter. He really didn't seem to care that it was a busy street. Our eyes met and I found myself staring at a man mid-shit, and he gave off the same look as a temple monkey. "Yes I'm shitting in a gutter, but I can't afford a toilet so either bear my smell or shove off!" I left.

I don't mind slums – it's a fact of life, but Kolkata seemed to be overridden with them. I asked hotel reception what was a local tourist attraction I could see (preferably slum free.) I was advised to go to India's largest planetarium. Yes!

The biggest planetarium in India!

Well I want to declare my love for planetariums. I love them! I wish they went for longer than 45 minutes as they fully transport you to another world. The New York planetarium is narrated by a recorded Robert Redford, the Washington D.C by a recorded Tom Hanks, the Kolkata… is presented live by old Indian lady more concerned about screaming at ringing cell phones than pointing out constellations. It wasn't even a movie, just a series of white dots (stars) projected onto the dome, which she pointed at using a laser pointer. I was bitterly disappointed. But as I left I remembered seeing a man shit in a gutter earlier that day. So if a city has gutter shitting citizens maybe their planetarium budget isn't as big as it's American counterparts. They were doing well with what they had.

We were stuck in traffic so I asked the driver if he wanted to lean out the window with me for a photo. He did. Utter professionalism.

Kolkata Baby. Yeah!

PS: I also saw a local beggar present some dancing monkeys – which were two monkeys tied in rope nooses, which were yanked up and down causing the monkeys to "dance". Instead of dancing these monkeys decided to fornicate in front of me. A literal F**k you to their master. Go you simian friends!

He proclaimed he had some dancing monkeys. Their dancing was just him yanking them by the neck. The mokeys ignored the animal cruelty by having sex.

Nepal: Kathmandu / Tibetan Border. Just go ahead jump.

Fears are funny things. Well it's not funny if it's your fear that you're facing, but funny in the daytime talk show "our next contestant is scared of pickles" sort of way. What I'm trying to say is that people can have funny fears. Me explain things good. It's funny the variety of different fears people have, like I'm scared of rats and driving mopeds but I have no hesitation throwing myself of a 160 meter bridge.

I had spent a few days moseying the streets of Kathmandu which has only recently transformed into a backpacker mecca. Only a few decades ago it was a quaint medieval looking city but with the advent of air travel it's turned into a haven of hostels, internet cafés and tourists torn between climbing huge mountains or drinking huge amounts of beer.

In recent years Kathmandu has rocketed in population as the rural population moved in and being set in a valley it's quite polluted. But it does have its tourist attractions like:

The Monkey Temple: A sacred temple with panoramic views populated by, you guessed it, hundreds of monkeys who spend their time laying out, scratching their genitals and fornicating. (these are the monkeys I mean not the male tourists.) Did the monkeys care about the tourists? No. They just stared at us with a "yes I lay about scratching my genitals and getting jiggy with it but what do you expect I'm a monkey! Got a problem with that? Well I'll steal your food or throw my poop at you. Now if you excuse me I have to smell my finger. Ooh-Ooh-Aah-Aah" look As you can see I get a bit carried away with monkey thoughts. I mean who wouldn't?

The Monkey Temple.

A bored monkey at the temple.

The Temple of the Golden Child: In the centre of Kathmandu is the temple of the golden child – like the similarly titled Eddie Murphy film. Basically in the Buddhist religion they get a group of young girls (aged six) and run them through a series of tests (including surviving a dark room filled with severed pig heads). The girl who passes all these tests is deamed to be chosen by god to be holy and is whisked away to live in a palace and praised by the people. The parents don't seem to care as I was told it brings them great honor.

As for the girl, she is kept under house (palace) arrest for if she bleeds she is seen as human and loses her title. As puberty is inevitable all princesses lose their title in their early teens and out comes the severed pigs heads to find her successor. The princess reveals herself to the public once a day on a balcony overlooking the palace forecourt populated by a mix of praising Nepalese and gawking tourists.

The balcony on which the princess reveals herself.

I entered the forecourt eager to see a god in the flesh and a hush fell over the crowd as one of her servants asked that no photos be taken. And out she came. She looked to be about nine and was wearing intricately designed makeup and gown. She scanned the crowd and I gave her a big warm smile and a small royal wave, but she didn't respond. Geez at least my smile had a response from Iranian girls! She looked extremely bored and after a few seconds she was gone. It would kind of suck being holy. You're torn from your family at a young age and forced to live in a fishbowl and present yourself 365 times a year to curious tourists. She effectively killed off my desire to become a god!

Having enough of horny monkeys and bored princesses I headed out to the Tibetan border to engage in some extreme sports. First up was white water rafting. I had participated in white water rafting in Peru several years earlier where the lack of liability meant that the guide took us eager (and totally inexperienced) rafters onto level five rapids (the hardest level). The result: I fell in twice and nearly drowned by unintentionally gulping half the river into my lungs. I remember sitting on the stony riverbank afterwards shivering, shoeless and cursing the person who invented white water rafting. I was NEVER going to do that again. But I said the same thing as a five year old visiting Disneyland's Haunted Mansion only to go back, so I guess you never say never.

And guess what? I might have given up hope of being a future god but there may be a future in a rafting career. I owned that river, I overcame that fear. I thought I would tell a monkey at the temple – but who am I kidding, he wouldn't have cared. He has genitals to scratch.

Back to my original thought on fears, after I tamed the river I bungeed off a 160 meter bridge. Apart from the initial fear and some stupid comments into the obligatory souvenir DVD, I loved it. I even squealed like a screaming schoolgirl as I fell. I figured my testicles were so shocked at the freefall they jumped a few octaves. The only thing stopping me doing multiple jumps was the 35 minute walk back up the ravine to the bridge. Damn you total lack of interest in physical fitness!

The 160 meter bungee drop.

So I am scared of mopeds and hot air balloons but I don't mind throwing myself off the second highest bungee jump in the world. Is there any sense in the universe? Well, if it contains nonchalant monkeys and bored princesses I think not.