A word of advice: never trust a brahmin priest. Only a few hours after we tipped one for leading us through some good luck prayers, I was flat on my back in our hotel room, too weak to drag myself to the bathroom or even ponder what ungodly bug I had contracted. For a whole night I was left reaching for a bucket as waves of nausea and vomiting passed over me every hour like clockwork. It soon became clear that we weren’t going to Jodhpur in the morning.

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For the end of our adventure, we have saved perhaps the biggest, craziest, tastiest, poorest, prettiest, smelliest, and best for last: India. Though we have three weeks to spend here, that’s hardly enough time to even scratch the surface of this country, so we’ve resigned to planning our return trip even before this one is even finished. If the beginning is any indication, we’re in for wild ride.

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