Home Alone

So I am home alone as I have thrown my toys out of the pram.  This company is a pile of shite.  After the debacle of yesterday I was optimistic that today was going to be better. Wrong! We went to an orphanage, only to arrive to find out that there were no kids there??  Apparently they all go to school and don’t need any help.  At this point I very nearly floored our coordinator.  

They then sent me to do a sports programme with the boys but this was shit too as I can’t play football (or volley ball, or in fact anything where a ball is required).  I told them what a shower of shite I thought their company was and tuk tuk’d myself out of there.  I am writing a letter of complaint to get my money back.   I will then set off to travel India and hopefully get set up with a proper charity.  Surely someone in India needs a bit of Breed help.

On the plus side I have yet to be ill.  I appreciate it’s only day 4 but I am trying to look on the bright side of things.  I am Indianising myself by eating with my hand.  It feels proper weird but oddly liberating.  I have yet to start wiping my arse with the other hand though (it’s probably only a matter of time).  They have little arse showers next to the toilet so that you can clean your hand afterwards.  Little James didn’t realise and showered himself with it.  He must have thought that Indians are all really tiny.  Bless his little heart. 

Booze

The boys and I went out for drinks last night.  You are not allowed to drink or smoke where I am staying (why the fuck didn’t I do anymore research??) but you can go to certain places and ask for special tea and they bring out a cocktail menu so to drown my sorrows I got shitfaced on gin.  So much for me not drinking in India I have been pretty much shitfaced since I arrived.  I’d like to say that the boys are a bad influence but we probably all know that I don’t need a huge amount of encouragement.

I had to listen to the wonderful Robbie talk about his girlfriend whilst all the time having improper thoughts about him.  I am going straight to hell.  At least I haven’t lunged though so Karma really needs to bare that in mind.  

Bullied

So much for my misplaced excitement.  Yesterday was horrendous.  It turns out I am not the kind caring girl that I thought I was.  I went to a special needs school yesterday and it almost broke my heart.  The people in the orphanage are severely mentally handicapped.  I thought they would be children but in fact they are mostly adults.  I am ashamed to say that I am not cut out for it.  If I am totally honest some of the people scared the life out of me.  They kick bite and punch.  I feel ashamed to say that I couldn’t hack it and had to leave.  My thoughts of being like mother Teresa were very short lived. 

I got myself together and then went to another school for after school tuition.  I was told to teach English to 5 little girls.  I thought they were ubber cute in their little uniforms and cute bindis, but it turns out they were little fuckers.  Their English was amazing.  So much so they could articulate that they thought I had very funny eyebrows and that they didn’t really want me to teach them and preferred the other girl.  They then pissed about for an hour and didn’t listen to a word I said.  Is it wrong to think kids are shits??   I cried all the way home in tuk tuk.    Can’t believe I have been bullied by 9 year olds.  

Germans

Boy, what a difference a few hours makes.  I have spent the whole day chilling with the German guys, Stefan and Robbie.  I have a massive soft spot for Robbie.  He is like this ubber cool traveller, who knows everything and everyone.  He is also in agreement that the coordinators are a pair of condescending cunts.  Oh and did I mention that he has the most beautiful sparkly green eyes.  He has a tattoo on his leg that says “Everything that you want is on the other side of fear”.  To top it off he has a big old beard.  I think I may have a bit of a crush. That didn’t take long. 

Aside from boy talk I am super excited to get the programme started.  I am off to meet the kids tomorrow.  I have been assigned to a special needs school.  I would imagine I will feel right at home there!  Apparently the kids don’t really speak English, so again I will fit in brilliantly. The school is run by nuns.  This is where the similarities end.  

Day 2 in India

Day two in India. 

I have done some hard core sleeping since arriving.  Sleeping seems to be the way forward as being awake entails having to engage with all the over excited volunteers.  I was hoping for some alone time today but it looks like I have a whole fun packed day with them all.  We even have health and safety training at 3pm this afternoon,   Health and Safety in India??  Are you shitting me?

I am off to buy a dongle (always makes me giggle) this afternoon so finally (hopefully) I will be able to start my blog and talking to you lot.  I will get myself an India phone too as my phone is a pile of poop.  It has not worked since I left England (although everyone else’s does.  Damn you EE).  

Smoking

No one told me that Kerala was a no smoking state.  No wonder square pants Taylor loves it so much.  It appears the only place in the whole of Kerala you can smoke is on our roof terrace.  Unforfunately this means its full to bursting with volunteers, all trying to give me advice on life in India like they are actually Indians, but in reality they have been here about 2 weeks, bought themselves some funny pants and beads and now class themselves as locals. 

I have no internet connection.  My phone is not working and on the whole I am thoroughly pissed off.  This is terrible start to my midlife crisis.  On the plus side things can only get better, right?   I’m hoping that tomorrow I will be full of the joys of spring.   Let’s hope so for all your sakes else this is going to be shit reading. 

House

I am teetering on the edge.  This house is tiny and is jammed full of 15 people who I wouldn’t even choose to drink with, let alone live with.  With the exception of two German guys and James, the young English boy I met at the airport, who are all as cool as fuck. 

My bedroom is quite possibly the smallest room known to man.  It has 4 of the oldest creakiest bunk beds crammed into it.  Calling it a bed might be an overselling it slightly seeing as it is probably more comfortable to sleep on the floor.  There are stains all over the mattress, which I don’t even want to think about.   I am sharing with 3 chicks, all of whom are quite sweet but not really my cup of tea.  It means that there is not one minute of the day that I am able to spend alone.  If I have to do one more false smile/laugh I fear my face may cave in. 

There are lots of rules too.  We all know how much I love a rule.  I can already predict trouble ahead.  One of the project leaders is already on my hit list.  I do mean actual hit list too.  She keeps banging on about what I can and can’t do,   I wouldn’t mind so much if she wasn’t about 15 years younger than me.  I have stomached it for today but she might need to wind her neck in at some stage, the patronising fucktard. 

Holy Moly

Holy fucking moly I feel like I have been travelling for days but in reality it’s not even 24 hours yet.  There was a point in the day whereby I didn’t even think that we would make it to the airport.  The moral of this particular story is don’t leave two hungover chicks in charge of fixing a bike on to a car.  The other lesson is don’t buy cheap shit from ebay (Clarkey). .  To cut a long and scary story short the attached bike came crashing through Sarah’s window just before we got to the airport.  I almost shit my pants.  It did though mean that the emotional farewell that we were both dreading was somewhat hijacked by the commotion.  Every cloud and all that! 

Sunday bloody Sunday

After some coercion (bordering on mild bullying) from Clarkey and Laurent I'm finally starting my blog.  This is where I am going to bare my soul to you all (well I would if I hadn't already sold it to the devil).  

Time is running out and the nearer it gets to D day the more terrified I'm becoming.  I'm told by everyone how brave I am but I don't feel brave at all. In fact by the time I get on the plane I'll need the aid of some respiratory equipment just to get my through.

I'm super excited and know that it will be a life changing experience but I suppose that's what frightens me the most.  I will never be the same again. What if I turn into a massive prick (well more of one),wiping my arse with my hand and sancimoniously spouting on about the virtures of a sober and sexfree exisitence? What if I don't like the new Breed?  I struggle with the old one.  

Also I'm worried about how attached I'll get to the kids.  If I love them, the way I loved Abu, I'm in a whole world of trouble.  I could end up like a poorer, less attractive version of Angelina Jolie.  They'd love it back in the East end. Home from home.  The fact that I can't even yet look after myself may have to be a consideration at the adoption stage though. 

I'm not sure when this just becomes the inane ramblings of a lonely old woman so I think i'll keep it brief.  Leave them wanting more, and all that.