“BLOODY ‘ELL HEVS! IT’S BLOODY MENTAL OUT THERE!!!”
Big Dave burst through the door of my hotel room at 4am with a slight sweat on his brow.
“We’ve been in the country for thirty minutes and we’ve already driven the wrong way down the motorway, nearly killed three cows and watched the taxi driver take a piss on the side of the road.”
Seems his journey from the airport was eventful.
“Hi Dad” I yawned. “Welcome to India.”

And that was the arrival of part of the ‘India Crew’ -my dad, two brothers, Sam and Joe, and cousin James. My dad came lugging a 24.7kg suitcase full of stationary supplies for mine and Lyvette’s friend Nitin who runs a school in the slums of Jaipur. The porter at the hotel nearly broke his back trying to pick it up. Before we go any further though I just need to clarify that dad, Dave, Big Dave, Big D and numerous other names mentioned throughout this blog are all, in fact, the same person. Just roll with it.

Now we’ve established that – lets crack on…

Delhi – Day 1

By 11am the next morning, following their early morning arrival, we were up and at ‘em in Delhi. Joe had already taken a shower in hand sanitizer – he’d taken my advice not to drink the tap water a step too far and was concerned about any form of H2O touching his face. Big D who was slightly crippled by his adventure with 24.7kg of stationary (and his already bandi legs) was cavorting around in a straw hat, James was overly concerned about his ever so slightly floppy quiff and Sam was sporting arms whiter than Tipp-Ex. We couldn’t have looked more Brits Abroad if we’d have tried. Blending in was not an option here – we looked like we’d just stepped out of the Inbetweeners movie. But we were ready to take on the day.

I think it’s safe to say that Delhi was an introduction to India that resembled more of a smack on the chops from Muhammed Ali than a tickle under the chin from a fairy godmother. The male specimens of my family received a good old assault to their senses when they arrived. We spent the first day mooching around the bazaars and getting to grips with the city. As we ventured towards Connaught Place I informed the fam to be weary of pickpockets and scammers;
“Watch your bags. Do not accept anything off anybody even if they say it is free. If anyone gets pushy just WALK AWAY.” They all nodded and rolled up their sleeves with steely determination. Point taken.

The next time I looked around Sam and Joe were sat on the ground having their ears cleaned.

And when I say ‘cleaned’ I mean having a rusty metal rod from the 60’s with a cotton pad on the end rammed through one ear and out of the other. In their defence they seemed to be having a great old time.
Sam; “It feels great – have you seen what’s coming out of my ears?!”
Joe; “I didn’t even ask to have it done! He just started doing it for free!”
The next thing I knew another ear cleaner was next to me ramming something into my head and telling me how vile the inside of my ear cavities were. “I happen to like my ear cavities dirty thank you, now stop probing them.” And I removed the rusty rod from my ear and moved away quicker than a ninja.
The next ten minutes was spent with the ear cleaners trying to charge 2,500 rupees for their services, Joe trying to do a runner without paying up having been almost physically assaulted into having his ear wax removed in the first place and Sam paying up 500 rupees for his ear clean and then legging it before he was bullied into paying any more. Only to find, four steps later, that he had dog shit all over his shoe. ALL over his shoe. Cue a swooping mass of Indian men ready to offer their shit-on-the-shoe cleaning services in return for a hefty (in Indian terms) fee.
“I swear they planted the shit on my shoe!!!” wailed Sam as he sat down again, watching a man suspiciously prepared with professional shit-on-the-shoe cleaning equipment attend to his once sexy white trainers.
Meanwhile myself, Big D and James (who’s quiff was battling with an India induced slump) watched the fiasco in amusement.
“Day one in India” said Big D “Shall we get a beer?”

A few Kingfishers (local beer) later and we were ready to step back into the outside world, Sam and Joe very alert and armed with hearing so good they could hear the news from our TV set back in England. I decided the team simply had not seen enough on their first day and we embarked on a stroll through the markets of Old Delhi. Now these markets, especially in the evening, are an eye opener. They slap you in face and then seep into your nostrils and burn into your retinas. There are no escaping the sights of Old Delhi and even for the prepared tourist it is the ultimate definition of chaos, colour and crazy. There’s not much you don’t see in the streets of Old Delhi, everything is unmasked and raw, just the way India likes it.

Naturally Delhi belly was a concern for everyone but let’s face it – it’s part of the India package. If you don’t shit yourself in India you haven’t done it properly. You’ve just got to eat curry and smile. So we sat down at a restaurant in old Delhi.
Big Dave sanitised his hands, “If I can make it through today I can get through anything!” And with that he created the motto of the holiday and tucked into his first curry in India.

The curry went well. The getting home did not go so well. We flagged down a tuk tuk, well actually that’s a lie – the tuk tuk flagged us down. Anyway, we all folded ourselves into this tuk tuk like we were origami pieces. Sam was in the front on the drivers lap and myself, Joe, Big D and James were in the back. It wasn’t a particularly large tuk tuk and three large men and a hobbit in the back was a big ask, but hey, in India anything goes. James managed to sit at one end with all but his left leg inside (which had no choice but to dangle precariously into the road). There was no room for me which meant the majority of my body was out of the window, ass included. In fact the only things inside were my head (just) and arms. I wasn’t too worried about the discomfort element of the journey, more about the safety of my bum cheeks. As we zoomed, zapped and flew around Delhi with Sam flailing around the front and James’s left leg and his quiff becoming perilously close to being eliminated I sat in the window clenching as my arse made its way home. Now, if you’ve never been to India you need to know that a tuk tuk can and will fit through anything. Any hole, shape or space even if it does not exist. Even if that means driving the opposite way to everyone else, head on into a sea of vehicles and taking out any obstacle (live or not) that has the audacity to get in its way. There are no rules. If your hands are on the outside of the tuk tuk they will be likely removed (not through choice). If your head is out of the window looking around then you will likely be decapitated. If you are in an alley with an oncoming tuk tuk you better breathe in real deep, leg it or jump over it because you will get crushed. The tuk tuks take no prisoners, you’re in for a white knuckle ride. So, as you can imagine, my fear for the safety of my bum cheeks was totally legit. I spent fifteen minutes holding my breath whilst things whistled, grazed and thumped against my bum and there was nothing I could do about it. Each time I prepared for the suction that would drag my entire body from our vehicle and through the window. At one point Sam thought he saw a tuk tuk going in the opposite direction with my arse stuck to the windscreen. Thankfully he was mistaken. And finally we reached our hotel. Sam removed himself from the drivers lap, James picked up his leg from the road grateful that it was indeed still attached to his body and I removed my rear end from the window, grateful that I still owned it.
“Jeeez” said Big Dave, his straw hat all askew. “If I can make it through today I can get through anything!”

Delhi – Day 2

My family slept like logs. It was like they’d be wiped out by a long flight and a day in Delhi. Because they had. Which isn’t surprising really – Delhi alone is enough to knock anyone out.
“It’s tiring here Hevs! I feel like I constantly need a nap” said Narcolepsy Dave as he popped on his very un-touristy straw hat. Once Joe had sanitised his entire body, James had fluffed up his quiff and Sam had checked his shoes for shit we were ready for day two in Delhi. Sightseeing – Akshardham (the largest Hindi temple in the world), India gate and Humayun’s Tomb. And we were off.

Day two started with a bang when Joe was touched up by a transsexual in the back of the tuk tuk. I mean, he probably heard her coming with his supersonic hearing but there was nothing he could do about it anyway. She wanted money. He wasn’t giving her money. So she groped his chest. He still didn’t give her money. The tuk tuk was stuck in traffic. Please note – this is probably the only time I’ve ever been in a tuk tuk that could not apparate through traffic (unfortunately for Joe).
“You want to feel my titties?” She thrust her chest at him. Even his supersonic hearing couldn’t help him now.
“No.” A man of many words is Joe. He stared ahead, trying frantically to adopt the survival skills required when being sexually harassed by a transsexual in India.
“You have no dick?” She asked as she attempted to manhandle him in the back of the tuk tuk.
Luckily Joe was saved by the tuk tuk finding a non-existent gap in the traffic and flying towards it at lightning speed, narrowly avoiding a motorbike carrying a family of twelve in the process.
“What the hell was that?!” he asked in disbelief as he proceeded to sanitise his hands, chest and the entire backseat of the tuk tuk.
“Welcome to India Joe!” I said with a chuckle as Narcolepsy Dave snored lightly next to me, worn out by the chaos caused by the transsexual in the back of the tuk tuk.

The rest of the day went by fairly drama free. We scoped out the sights, avoided getting scammed and fended off unwanted toucher upperers. We walked down motorways (perfectly safe), nobody stood in shit or shit themselves (double whammy) and the lads saw a different (slightly) more peaceful side to Delhi. It’s fair to say The Jacksons had a very pleasant day. Apart from Joe who had been molested before 10am, but he’ll moan about anything…

That evening Big D decided he was ready for some street food so he and I ventured into the maze of back streets with unwavering courage and the resolute will to make it back alive (the others headed to McDonalds). Finally, armed with snacks and terror induced shaky legs brought on by the colossal task of crossing a road in India and having dodged tuk tuks, cows, sacks of rice and nearly losing toes, fingers and torsos we saw the entrance to our hotel. It was at that moment when I saw a mound of sick looming before us. Street Food Dave was busy hurdling a man on a horse and was unaware of the obstacle that lay before us. My shaky legs narrowly avoided said obstacle and as I saw Big D lunging towards the mound of sick and sudden death (ok I’m getting slightly dramatic here) I did what any loving daughter would do.

I screamed. Really. Fucking. Loud.

Naturally Big D reacted by performing the grandest pirouette known to mankind and letting out a yell of his own, definitely exceeding my decibels. The sheer quality of his performance made me crease with laughter.
“What are you jumping for?!” I asked. “I was just letting you know the sick was there so you didn’t stand in it.”
“What do you mean, what am I jumping for?! I thought a fucking tuk tuk or a lorry or a cow was going to run me over! It’s bloody carnage out here and the way you screamed at me I thought my life was over! What do you mean what am I jumping for?!!” And off he stomped into the hotel carrying his picnic of samosas, kachoris and something else that was deep fried. I stood and watched trying to repress the giggles that were building inside me.
It took him about ten steps forwards, though the hotel doors, before he stopped and looked around. Then back at me.
“I’m in the wrong hotel aren’t I?”
I collapsed in the heap of sick laughing until my sides hurt.

We eventually returned to the correct hotel armed with our street food which was really tasty. Big D’s heart rate was back to normal and we were all basking in the air conditioning. Street Food Dave tucked into his samosa, “If I can make it through today I can get through anything!”

Agra – Day 3

It started. Joe got an iffy tummy. After eating McDonalds. Even a Maccies and hand sanitiser can’t save you in India! The rest of us were going strong. Apart from me – I’d already thrown up twice on the first night and then gone back to sleep as though nothing had happened.

On day three we waved goodbye to Delhi, hoping to give our senses and eardrums a rest. The beeping and honking in Delhi is something else. The lads were glad to leave. Delhi had been an intense introduction to India and they were ready for somewhere, anywhere, slightly less chaotic and confronting. So we headed to Agra to visit the Taj Mahal. This was to be their first train journey in India so off we headed, Big D dragging his 24.7kg suitcase of stationary with him. We made it to the platform unscathed, until Big D went to sit on his suitcase and fell off it, causing the Indian family next to us to choke on their chapati’s. Then James spotted the rat and nearly fainted. The next few minutes were spent with James running around the platform trying to avoid eye contact with the big bad rat, Sam trying to find our train carriage whilst avoiding getting any form of shit on his newly cleaned trainers and Stationary Dave trying to sit on his suitcase without it wheeling off. Meanwhile Joe tried not to poo himself and sanitised everything in sight.

Eventually we were on the train and settled, watching as touts got on and off the train trying to sell us everything and anything. James was on the end nearest the aisle so he got the brunt of the touts persistence.
“We’ve not even set off yet and I’ve already been sold toys, chai and peas!” he sighed as the latest man sidled up to him flashing his goods, “And do I look like I need a zip or some black shoe polish? I’m wearing white trainers!” I couldn’t help but laugh. At least there were no rats to freak him out.

We settled into a relaxing afternoon in Agra eating Thali’s and drinking Kingfishers. After Delhi it was dreamy and the Jackson men welcomed the break. The plan was to go to the Taj Mahal the following day for sunrise, meaning we had a free afternoon. Our hotel was a short walk from the Taj so we ambled down the street scoping out our route and just perusing the area really.
“Compared to Delhi this road is quiet” said James. Even his quiff had perked up. “And this road up to the Taj may even be quite nice. And I feel like there may be slightly less pollution. And tomorrow I’m going to see a beautiful building, a wonder of the world.” He looked kind of happy.

And then a bird shit on his leg.

“Typical. Bloody typical. That’s India for you.”

Taj Mahal – Day 4

The 5am wake up call was worth it. The Taj was as beautiful as I remember. Even Narcolepsy Dave managed to keep his eyes open. Joe, Sam and James were impressed. Joe even nearly forgot to sanitise his hands and James avoided being shat on for the entire morning. They all reckoned it was one of the most beautiful things they had ever seen. Dave decided it was good. Really good, but, it was just a really nice building. And that if Anne, his wife, my step mum, died he wouldn’t spend twenty two years building her a tomb. He’d just throw her in a grave and go to the pub. Visiting a wonder of the world really makes you sit down and think about these things.

Post Taj we visited Agra Fort, I drove a tuk tuk and then we jumped on the train to our next destination, Jaipur, with Stationary Dave dragging his 24.7kg of equipment behind him. He was excited to reach Jaipur because it meant giving his suitcase full of goodies to the children in the slums. He was that excited he fell asleep on the train with his head on his knees and woke up with a jolt, frightening himself, and me and Joe who were sat next to him. Narcolepsy Dave was back.

And that, my friends, is where we shall finish this blog, on Day 4 of the India travels with the Jacksons, on a train journey to Jaipur. With Sam and Joe and their supersonic hearing, James eyeing up every nook and cranny for potential rat dens, Big D frightening himself awake and me impressed that my toenail had yet to detach itself on this particular India trip.

The next blog marks the arrival of two more members of the Jackson clan, Natay (real name Natalie) and Becky B (real name Becky B), who joined us in Jaipur. Our time in India just got more and more eventful. So, if you want to know how we ended up becoming Indian models, how we nearly got frazzled to death, how to open a beer bottle with your face and how Natay contracted leprosy be sure to have a gander at the next blog…