The last bus to Haridwar is over crowded. The bus driver was a crazy young man from Punjab. He sang his mystic songs and the traffic instantly cleared in front of him (or could that because of his mad dashing and horning?)

I had to sit on the transmission. After some jiggling of seats, I was squeezed on to the first class front seat of the bus. Seeing the weaklings rickshaws dodged away from me is an unforgettable experience.

I shared the front seats with a big Indian family. The younger boy speaks good English and, surprisingly, understands the difference between a mobile and a GPS. He is in high school now and wants to become a farmer like his father.

The late night express only took six hours to arrive in Haridwar (thanks to the crazy Punjabi driver). I tried to find the Alpana hotel but have no luck. Eventually, I settled for the City Heart hotel.