Just to be clear - India hasn't happened yet. Not for us. But what I'm struck by is the way that it's swirling about in my mind without me even being there.

We handed over our passports yesterday in Bangkok, and the Indian Embassy will keep a tight hold of them for the next five days. At that point, they'll be retuned to us with brand-spanking-new visas in them and we'll be free to visit India.

For whatever reason - be it late-onset culture shock coming 7 months into the trip, too much India hype, too little hard information, or too much thinking - I find myself somewhat daunted.

It's like India has this crazy, mixed-up image in mind that I'm not sure I can grapple with in the flesh. I am imagining touting, shouting, hassling, touching, jostling. I am envisaging cows and bindis and anklets and bangles and rough-footed dogs and tiny, scraggly children. I'm thinking of fiendishly long train journeys and hot, bumpy roads with all of the world crammed into their margins.

I keep imagining some cocktail of intrigue and amazement and frustration, drunk neat.

I'm excited, also. But it's a heightened sort of excitement, tinged with anxiousness. Like on a scorching hot day, standing at the edge of the aquamarine pool the moment before you plunge into water that's icy-cold.