The dusty town of Raxhaul was where the story begun. Being 8 and 9 on the waiting list unfortunately meant that we lost the rights to the 2nd class AC carriage by 2 spots, so our only option was sleeper class - time to travel the local way. I was beyond relieved that we would be making it down to Kolkata regardless. After a 6 hour wait, shifting between the IRCTC food hall and the reservations office, We boarded sleeper 4, and were delighted with the novelty of sleeping in a prison like arrangement. A quick wet wipe down and a silk liner later, the bunk looked beyond comfortable - and it took about 2 minutes to drift asleep; all valuables tucked snug into my pants, bag beside my head and padlocked to the under-chair.

The silence was broken with loud cries of 'chai' and 'pani' at 5.45am, hawkers roamed the aisleways from the top to the tail of the train. We started the morning with a chai and I watched the bustle from my top bunk. The hours clicked over, the temperature stared to rise. The Bengal countryside flew past as our carriage became more and more crowded. Interesting smells drifted through the open windows as we passed large stations all the while the carriage continued to heat up as the Bengal sun relentlessly belted our train top. Kids boarded at every station, walking the rounds, tapping you lightly on the arm and begging for money. We opted for offering water, the offer was refused on all occasions. Just on 21 hours later, we arrived at Howrah station. Kolkata feels like a city built to shine in a different, more splendid age. It's British influence can been seen in the boulevard-like streets, now covered by a grime unmistakably attributed to inner city slums and poverty. A swift taxi ride through the thick of downtown delivered us safe and sound to our hotel, where we indulged in our first Indian feast at Red Carpet, the little restaurant next door, and stopped off for delightfully wrapped Bengali sweets on the walk home.

More thoughts on Kolkata to come in another blog post.

We caught a hassle free flight from Kolkata to Port Blair early the next morning, treating ourselves to the airport Irish pub and milkshakes. The aerial views were straight out of a Nat Geo issue; turquoise, remote and lush.

A group of piranha like taxi drivers launched at us as we exited the airport, and we were whisked away to the centre of town. Our hotel was the lovely Ocean Terrace, which lived up to its name with beautiful views over the bay and tropical palm islands piled on-top of every horizon. The owners were very friendly and tried relentlessly to preempt our next move with what we would like to eat/drink/do/see.

Port Blair is the capital of these unique islands floating in the Bay of Bengal. It has a rich history of local tribes and traditions, shadowed somewhat by its use as a penal colony from the late 18th Century to just before WW2 when it was occupied by the Japanese. The British influence culminates with the cellular jail, a 7 winged stone waterfront massif built in 1896. It's now more of a homage to the freedom fighters who regretfully called it home. We read stories of oil grinding labor, torture, flogging, executions; all whilst under the shadow of neighbouring Ross Island, the luxurious home of the soldiers and the social elite. Our tuk-tuk driver was waiting for us by the exit, and zoomed us around the town on 3 wheels. We made a pit stop at a local wedding to deliver some signage, at the wharf to check out ferries and at a side store to pick up a few bananas. By late afternoon we headed back to the hotel to arrange our boat tickets for our stay on the islands. $80 later, we were all booked, our voyage chartered for the next 10 days.

After a snooze on the deck chairs watching a painterly sunset, we ventured out into the thick humidity in search of some tasty Bengali food. Our prayers were answered by the simplest of dwellings - the interestingly named 'Annapurna Cafeteria'. If I had to imagine an American style high school lunch room, serving the tastiest North Indian curries and dosa, this would be it. It had an in-and-out rule, no one seemed to sit any longer than 10 minutes. We based our order on the waiter's recommendation and were served the biggest and coincidently the first dosa we had ever seen! It was amazing! Some vege pakodas and a cauliflower dosa later, we were stuffed full and shuffled out the door.

It was about this time that it dawned on us that we had literally seen no foreigners for about 3 days - from Raxhaul to Port Blair. In a lot of ways it felt liberating to feel so insignificant and alien.

The next morning, full of tea, omelette and jam toast, we headed down to the wharf and purchased 2 tickets to Ross Island. We didn't know at the time that our 200 rupee ticket would only allow us a strict one and a half hour time slot on the island - we tried with all our might to plead with officials to let us stay longer; we were both dreaming of a day spent reading along the secluded shoreline. It wasn't meant to be.

This island was used by the British elite as their home base, it's only fitting now that it has a more 'Angkor Wat' vibe about it, nature slowly but forcefully taking back every building, wall and surface that was constructed in the bygone era. Palms the size of office blocks provided blissful shade, as salty waters lapped sandy shores. Walking along 300 year old pathways buried under coconut husks and crisp palm fronds, we found what must have been the 'Mayfair Ave' of the colony - an arc of untouched sand, black seal-like rocks and 180 degrees of unobstructed postcard water views. Daniel climbed a palm tree while I watched the giant crabs scrambling over the rocks. Our ferry summoned us back to civilisation promptly at 11.30am. The afternoon was spent watching the clouds darken over the horizon and empty in early monsoon style, reading and evaluating our travel purpose.

At the moment, both Daniel and I are reading 'this changes everything', by Naomi Klein. It's altering the way we view not only our world, climate change and its urgency for action, but also how we approach these months of travel. Climate change is one of those terms that almost has no impact anymore - the world has been negotiating a plan of attack for 2 decades of my existence. The scary thing, is that we have just about run out of time. For me, I have chosen to change parts of my lifestyle in a personal quest to lessen my impact, but the fact remains, that it's all too easy to keep one eye tightly shut, and simply put, it's not enough. I feel myself doing this again and again, scared to face the reality of the existential crisis that will change everything we know about the world and how we exist within it. This book presents an argument that is hard to falter; our capitalist, consumerist lifestyles cannot and will not coexist with our planet. Reading about world trade deals, tax cuts, mining mishaps, the heartland institute, Donald Trump, Marc Morano, mega corporations - the power that's in the hands of big business is intolerable. This is an issue that doesn't need to be outsourced to environmentalists, it can be changed by people. By you and by me.

As we waited 40 minutes for our ferry to sail us over to famed Havelock island, we watched as wealthy men sat in diesel burning air con cars, afraid to face the heat and humidity and the discomfort of it all. It just seemed so unfair and so infuriating - the ignorance was too much for us to observe and the poor guy was disrupted with a few questions from Daniel. We need to start taking responsibility. We have ideas of how we can use our communication / visualisation / illustration / language skills to get something moving, but it's a big task. We want to work with all the talented people we know to start a change. If we don't, places like these impossibly perfect islands will no longer exist.

Our first island escape was the beautiful Havelock - the alpha of the group and definitely what most people would describe as the Andamans. Full of beach huts, relaxed restaurants, untouched beaches and clear water, it's exactly what google images says it is. We arrived at the Emerald Gecko Eco resort on beach number 5 - a long stretch of white sand, backed by figs and palms - as the afternoon rains begun to tumble out of the sky. The bamboo huts are made from material that washes up on the shores from Myanmar. Our little home felt like a tropical cubby house, complete with balcony, rickety bamboo stairs and open windows. I honestly feel like I could stay here forever, and we both really need the time to get in a more positive and reactive headspace. We settled in as the sky blackened around us and headed to Black Beards for a carb loaded pasta and vege dinner.

We awoke at 4.30 to bathe in the delight of a eastern sunrise. The beach had receded out over 100m with low tide, exposing a trillion crabs, corals, shells and boats. It was nice to have a few hours of blissful silence, taking in the natural splendour before the kick of generators, people and daily life resumed.

The intense humidity made visions of a zooming scooter too much to bear, so we wasted no time at all acquiring a black machine to be our mode of transport for the day. Daniel negotiated the village roads with no hesitation, clocking above 60kph in a matter of seconds. With 154 rupees of fuel ($2.50) in the tank and forests of palms and sunny blue skies laid out before us, we crossed the width of the island to Radhanagar beach. And what a good decision it was....I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. We hung out here for most of the day, lovingly feeding and watering an emaciated market dog, dipping in and out of the crystal ocean, and playing celebrity to the many Indian tourists who insisted on group, single and couple photos with us. A family of Chennai locals invited us to their home when we arrive there in July, to eat, chat and try their cold pressed oil products. We headed for lunch at B3, famed for its wood fired pizzas which didn't disappoint, and then continued along to a local barber, where Daniel removed about 80% of the hair on his body.

As the afternoon wore on, I decided that it was time to get the massage that I have been talking about since finishing the Annapurna circuit. Barefoot Resort, with its palm lined driveway, small bamboo cabins and luxurious tropical gardens seemed like the obvious choice, and it was well worth it. We both treated ourselves to an Ayurvedic aromatherapy treatment, hearing only the sounds of the ocean crashing 50m away, forest birds, and gentle sea breezes - it was well worth the wait. Feeling very sleepy and relaxed, the drive back required extra concentration as we returned to our little bamboo nest. A few lazy hours passed, both of us relishing the time to enjoy reading, writing and drawing. As nighttime made its way around, and the full moon took centre stage, we boarded our black scooter one last time and headed for Fat Martins, a little surfer style restaurant with the cutest resident cat, who I decided to name Martina. She sat with us most of the time, while we indulged in some super slow wifi, the best coconut pumpkin curry ever, a vege burger, milkshakes and desserts.

The following day lent itself to a quiet one, doing nothing but lazing around the shoreline, reading and designing the Conscious Impact logo. The early yet refreshing monsoon storms washed over the islands as the ocean swelled and we watched it all from our raft like balcony. The skies cleared a touch in the afternoon, giving us enough time to duck into Rony's and Fat Martins for some food and cat cuddling time. I'm missing Frida more than usual at the moment, so it was perfect timing. Seeking some alone time, I walked the length of beach 5, picking up a puppy friend along the way and turning the walk into a clean up mission - filling at least 3 resort bins with plastic and garbage. On this night of the new moon, we discovered the full moon cafe - our new favourite island hangout - the 3 golden retrievers and plump house cat having a lot to do with it.

American banoffe pancakes and a warm sunrise swim overlooking an ocean storm is the perfect way to start any morning. We again spent our time lazing never more than 10 metres from the shoreline, dipping in and out when the humidity got too much or the cool blue waters got too tempting. We ended up spending 3/4 of the day at the full moon cafe, hanging out with Leia, Buffy, Frodo and Ninja. For dinner, we decided to try somewhere new - Anju Coco Resto - regretfully the owner decided to throw a tantrum and Daniel became entangled in an unwanted argument over the price of a third ice cream scoop.

The next morning, we boarded the ferry to Neil island, a much smaller and commercially modest floating paradise an hour away. They also have an Emerald Gecko, which instantly felt like home with 4 resident puppies, 3 brand new kittens and wild mangoes falling from the sky. In a desperate attempt to cool down, we jumped almost immediately into the ocean at Sitapur beach, 20 metres from our bungalow. A tasty lunch of coconut curry and rice gave us the energy to head into town and sort out our island wheels for the next 3 days - sky blue and bottle green bicycles! It also gave us a reason to head over to the opposite end of the island and check out the famed natural bridge at beach 2; a rocky archway surrounded by giant trees pushing out of the jungle canopy looking like something from the Jurassic age. In our adventures we discovered Blue Sea restaurant, a single beach shack hut decorated like a Christmas tree with treasures from the ocean; the highlight being a giant whale skull as the centrepiece. The menu is written on a fresh piece of paper daily, offering about 4 drink options and 4 food options. We opted for home style fries and the thickest / freshest mango shake known to man. The simplicity was heart warming. The BlueSsea gentlemen disclosed the secret of the only wifi on the island, so we jumped back on our bikes and headed over to Seashells as the sky darkened. We shared beer, strawberry mocktails, puffed rice and (the best) curry and garlic naan all whilst getting some research sorted. By the time we had finished our deep fried ice cream, it was getting pretty late, and we had a 7km ride back to our bamboo bungalow. With no light, no helmets and a light dusting of rain, we trusted the moon, an Indian wedding and a few sporadic street lamps to guide us home safely on the bumpy island road.

4.30 sounded, and we headed down to Sitapur for the sunrise, which was a little obstructed with clouds - however beautiful all the same. I started chatting with a local who shared stories of the tsunami and local living. Neil from Neil Island runs the Sunrise Hotel just across the road, and was more than willing to share photos of previous pristine sunrises from the spot we were standing. He used to manage a coconut, jackfruit, mango and papaya farm on the island, but seems quite content with his new hospitality lifestyle. After promising to visit for lunch one day, he wandered back into the lush rainforest from whence he came. The new day brought a tonne of early monsoon rain, and we opted to cycle our way around regardless. Daniel decided to race a local, running the chain off its course. The young Indian islander was kind enough to help us fix it, rain drops filling our eyelashes and soaking us through. Seeking refuge in restaurants and cafes, we ate our way through the day, the highlight being homemade pasta and garlic naan at Moonshine restaurant.

Over our last 2 days the monsoon really started to settle in, and when it starts it really means business. Despite the purple clouds and imminent threat of a drenching - we rode our bikes the 10km stretch to Laxmanagar beach, we rode to Seashells for another serving of that amazing curry, and we explored the western tip of the island, stopping every 100m or so to reattach my bike chain which decided to be temperamental. By Wednesday afternoon, we were ready to board the ferry back to the safe harbour of Port Blair, bidding farewell to the cool outdoor showers, tropical fruits, life absent of time and most heartbreaking of all, little Roo (our adopted favourite of the clan), who watched us with puppy dog eyes as we walked down the path one last time, tears welling up almost immediately. The wavy ferry ride left 90% of the Indian tourists with vomit bags in their hands, pale skin and vacant eyes - thankfully, we were spared the sickness of the seas.

I have to quickly mention the lovely people we ended up staying with in Port Blair on our return. We didn't manage to catch their names or a photo, but they were just so kind, interested and open minded. Brand new to the hotel business, they have recently converted their family home into a home-stay called Port Vista. We were the 2nd people to stay, and had the pleasure of the main bedroom (everything was so new, it was all still wrapped in plastic). In their lounge room, we had a lengthy chat about vegetarianism, Indian weddings and the native people of the islands whilst sharing a mango. The husband discussed his extensive research into HMAS Sydney and WW2, whipping out his recent articles in the local paper, beaming with pride. We were offered a ride in the family car to the Annapurna Cafeteria, a place they seemed to know well. It was just so refreshing to be treated like part of the family and it completely rejuvenated us.