This may be the last I write for a while. Tomorrow at 6.30a.m. I depart Kathmandu for Lukla to start trekking to Everest base-camp. The trek will take three weeks and I'm not sure they have oxygen that high up let alone internet access.

My last day in Delhi left quite an impression on me. Although the roads are absolute chaos in India, I always used to say "I have never seen a single accident in India". I can't say that anymore.

An auto rickshaw is a three wheeled automobile, with what sounds like a two-stroke engine (hence also referred to as "took-took's" due to the shitty sound they make). They are like three-wheeled motorcycles enclosed with canvas. Nothing solid. The sides are open, so if they ever build up enough speed, which is near impossible, you could theoretically fall out. One important tid-bit of information: the drivers are fucking maniacs. Walking to Connaught place with both backpacks strapped on, front and back, I heard a mild crashing commotion to my left. As I turned to look I saw a motorcycle speeding off and a stationary auto-rickshaw on a 45 degree angle topple over on its side, onto the head of the middle-aged woman inside. ONTO HER HEAD!!!! Immediately about twenty people, including myself, ran to help, lifting the shit-box off the woman's head and off the driver's leg. Both the driver and the woman seemed quite dazed, obviously in shock. But the woman was missing quite a sizeable chunk... OF HER HEAD!!! A chunk about half the size of a banana had been scraped off by the road, exposing her head to the freakin bone. I still can't get the bloody image out of my head. And of course it was a bloody image, with blood pissing out from all around the wound. There wasn't quite as much blood as I would have liked or hoped to have seen with such an injury (yes, I am a sick bastard), but it was pretty gruesome nonetheless. I quickly searched around for a clean cloth or piece of material to cover the wound. Being in India, I quickly realised that was pretty much an impossibility, but luckily another man had the same initiative and pulled out his filthy handkerchief and applied it with pressure. I'm sure the fact it was saturated with mucus helped all the dust in India stick to it, which may have helped to cauterise the wound. All the woman was saying was "ay, ay, ay" continuously, the poor dear.

I decided to leave soon after. After all, I had a plane to catch and everything seemed to be under control. An ambulance was rumored to be called, they were frequently rinsing the blood from the rancid handkerchief using water from the rickshaw's engine, and they had brought a chair for the woman to sit in (a much better idea than letting her lie down, don't you agree). So I left them there, crowded around an incomplete woman sitting in the middle of the road, to do things they way only the Indians can do.