In November this year I embark on a 2,500km ramble along the east coast of India with three donkeys, Zappa, Ziggy and Nina, and any waifs and strays we inevitably pick up along the way.

We, that is Nina, Ziggy, Zappa, myself, and any waifs and strays, will start at Kanyakumari, the very tip of the sub-continent. For 5 months my band of mismatched romantics will travel up the east coast to the mighty city of Calcutta.

 First, it is a romantic journey; next it is an adventure; then a voyage of discovery. Last but not least, a reason to meander and philosophise on what is happening around and about the world we live in. Walking with donkeys seems a decent enough reason to meander into the unknown, and India seems a decent enough country to stroll within.

The journey will be an unfolding story. I look forward to sleeping under the stars; staying in fishing villages; meeting guru’s looking like Gandhi; storytellers to tell me about the mad and the bad; men on bicycles; Maharajah with strange hats; women selling chai, and maybe even older women who can tell me where my future lies. A strange concoction of characters I seek to make this a romantic journey as I roll along the beautiful east coast of India.

Oh – what an adventure awaits! Oh – what a story will unfold!

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