Fortunately it would seem that night buses in India are not the disco buses of Cameroon. The driver drove llike a maniac but we were able to get a couple of hours sleep. Our arrival in Panjim left us doubting we had left Badajoz.
The Portuguese influence has left its mark on Panjim, capital of Goa, to such an extent that while walking around its streets we forget we are even in India. Except for the fabulous dinner we have had and the freshly squeezed fruit juices of any fruit that takes your fancy, there is not much here to make us linger. So bus ticket in hand, we are making our way to Hampi, away from the coast.

Our mission was to get to Saloni and Balram´s house. Our experience in Cameroon had stood us in good stead, chaotic traffic, dirt, dust and heat and the endless queue to get through the swine flu control.
Our hosts were waiting for us with a delicious dinner of basmati rice and chickpea curry and an evening´s conversation on indian life and tips for discovering Mumbai the next day. So today we set off to discover the amazing and eclectic centre of Mumbai.

After a short stop in Europe we are beginning our next adventure: India.
We will begin our journey through the Asian sub-continent in Mumbai where we will be hosted by a couchsurfing couple in their home. We hope they will be our introduction to Indian life.
After a few days in hectic Mumbai, home of Bollywood and urban chaos, home to more than 16 million people with 29,000 people pper square kilometer,we will continue our journey south, passing through Goa, Keralan backwaters until we reach Tamil Nadu, famous for its temples, where we´ll stay for a month on another volunteering project with ODAM. After that, we will fly to Delhi to visit northern regions.

The return to Europe has been strange. The trip itself seemed like it was never going to end. A bus trip to Douala, hours waiting in the airport in suffocating heat, no air conditioning and no seats to sit on, another few hours waiting in Casablanca until we finally touched European soil.

After having spent so much time in Fundong, what most called our attention was fashion.
Casablanca airport had all the usual shops; Zara, Mango and other much more expensive shops.
People were wandering around dressed smartly, with the lastest fashions bought for this season, leather bags and boots, trousers that cost the earth even though they already have a wardrobe full of clothes from last winter. We people watched for a while and considered the fact that we spend so much money on unnecessary clothes and objects. We are obsesed with being trendy, having the lastes clothes and the flattest screen... while we were sitting in Casablanca all of it suddenly seemed so ridiculous.

Back in the UK for a few days, I'm enjoying being in a house with central heating, opening the fridge and taking whatever I fancy to eat, going shopping, although now I appreciate these things more than before, and I know that when I don't have them, I don't miss them.

With makosa music ringing through the minibus speakers, it was 2 am and once again we had been travelling over 10 hours. Yet this time, Dan had a trick up her sleeve... earplugs. "Where did you get those from? " David asked. "I don´t know" she replied. The truth is she always thinks of random things when packing, and you wonder why on earth she's got that in her bag. And just when you least expect it, a miracle solution comes out of her bag.So thanks to the earplugs we were able to sleep on the discobus, until our backsides bouncing on the hard, wooden bench woke us on our arrival in Douala.

We arrived in Douala at 5am, so we waited at the bus station until dawn then took a taxi to another bus station to make our way to Kribi. At first sight, this second bus company seemed clean and organised. Printed tickets, staff in uniform, even rubbish bins. But this was a mere illusion. When time came to get on the bus, we were squashed into a minibus, seats for three became seats for five and a minibus designned for 20 passengers left for Kribi with 38 on board, squashed in like a tin oof sardines.We spent the four-hour trip to Kribi like that, but the reward was waiting for us when we arrived.

We're writing this entry with the computer on our lap, feet in the sand at the door of our hotel room on one of the most beautiful beaches we have seen. An untouched, white sand beach, like those you see in holiday brochures, but with one difference, we are the only people here. We are completely alone, with the jungle behind us and the beach to ourselves.Last night we were under our mosquito net listening to the sound off the waves. this morning, with sleep still in our eyes, we had a morning swim before breakfast in the warm Atlantic ocean.

PS. This last bit was written purely to make you jealous!With four days left here, the stress and hard pace of life means we won't be able to offer you another entry until we reach Europè next week.

Cameroonians love messages. Phrases written in chalk ontheir doors and windows, on the dashboard of the car, on the mudflap of motorbikes, on wooden signs at police controls, any place is a good place to leave a message."Be calm, control is for your security" is what is says at the police control point, although what is really means is you have to pay for safety.The one which we we most like is the name of the bus company "Patience Express".Most people don´t have enough money to fix their rusting cars. The other day we passed an accident where a taxi ended up in a ditch, its passengers wiating patiently at the side of the road waiting for the car to be hauled out to continue their journey. The car's breaks had failed. "God is our security" was the message on the dashboard. So these guys don't need breaks, God will help them bring the car to a hault!