David finds decent company with an Anglo-Indian named Ranj, who's running away from his wealthy, prominent family. Jeremy shows up there, too, directing everyone to the ""real"" India, complaining about the ""two-week"" tourists who ruin India for honest, caring travelers like himself.
When Liz falls for Jeremy, a rich, self-righteous poseur, David is annoyed but takes ""J's"" advice to travel from Delhi to Manali, where pot is cheap and plentiful. Sutcliffe provides a little too much of their repetitive quarreling, but at moments these squabbles are hilarious. Once there, David's charming dorkiness clashes with Liz's hunger for the hip authenticity of tourist culture. The best friend, James, brags about his upcoming arduous trip to various Third World countries and once he departs, David and Liz become uneasy friends and quasi-lovers, planning their own journey to India. David Greenford, the skeptical British narrator/hero of this breezy novel, just wants to sleep with Liz, his best friend's girlfriend, but winds up spending three harrowing and thrilling months backpacking in India the summer before starting university.
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