I had to leave India before that feeling took hold. By the end of our three months travelling all over, from Alleppey in the south, Jaisalmer in the west, to Kolkata in the east, I was done. I needed out.
When we descended into Bangkok, I couldn't believe how shiny the airport seemed from the sky. The airport was clean inside and out, the money we got out of the ATM felt like it was right off the press, super crisp and still a bit warm. Our taxi was clean, the roads were clean, and the taxi drivers somehow managed to stay in the proper lane, on their allotted side of the road. No meandering, no drifting.
But after a few days, I began to look back a bit, and think quite fondly of our time in India. The touts and annoying shopkeepers were settling to the back of my mind, and the friendliness of the vast majority of people who wanted nothing more than a photo with us, and a bit of conversation, that is what began to rise to the surface. Two months later, at the end of our trip, both my wife and I thought that if we were to return to any of the eleven countries we visited on our nine-month trip, India would top the list.
The travel posters all say, "Incredible India." The posters speak the truth.