Hot water

I think I mentioned before that I get a bucket of hot water delivered to me every day (I’m so precious). It used to be an old guy that delivered it but it seems that the baton for this particularly chore has been passed on to the younger guy who works here, Unni. I saw Unni out yesterday and he asked if I would help him with his English, one day. I said of course I would (I could hardly say no) so this is how it came to pass that I ended up having one of the oddest dinner dates known to man.

It turns out, over a very awkward meal, that Unni wants me to help him to put status updates on his Facebook page. He told me some of the things that he wanted to write.  I am still cringing now. In one of the posts he wanted to say that English men understand what is in his heart. He said that he felt in tune with English men and that he knew that they could understand his soul. What English men has he been meeting? The most scary post though (and believe me I did try to talk him out of it) was yet to come.

Two years ago he had met a couple (English. He seems very partial to the English). They were called Judy and Joe (or something like that). He had gotten along with them really well whilst they were here and he had told them that if he had children he would name them Judy and Joe, accordingly. That in itself is pretty full on and would have put the fear of god in me, but it seems that two years after (with no word from the couple) he is still keen on labouring this point.  So, he wanted me to write that what he had said was true and he still felt the same way.

I start to compose this cringy message to the couple, who I can imagine sitting in England reading it, thinking who the hell is the guy. I start the message by writing a greeting but whilst I am doing this he stops me to say that it’s not going to be a message to them but instead e's going to post it on his wall. What?? Do you want to run that past me again? People write some strange shit on Facebook but this has to be one of the creepiest. I tired to explain that this might seem quite weird for the couple when they saw this plastered on his wall but then realised, what do I actually care. It’s really none of my business.

After the Facebook debacle the conversation dried up a bit (my mind was in melt down). To fill time I thanked Unni for bringing me the water each day and asked him how long he had worked at Bamboo Village. Get this, he doesn’t work there!! This man comes from his house each day at the time same time to bring me a bucket of hot water and doesn’t even work here. Shut Up!!! I am now a little bit scared of Unni. He is either the most sincere, simple, kind, naïve man I have ever met or else he is utterly, scarily insane. I genuinely don’t know which.  

Coming to America

I went for a walk along the cliff and whilst I was out I saw Cina (Cina is the Swedish lady with the great body, who I previously called Tina. Ooppss). We had breakfast together (fruit salad as I now on a diet. I have 6 weeks to lose about 5 stone. I might be exaggerating slightly but that’s how it feels). Cina is so lovely. She is one of the most positive people I’ve ever come across. She has her own gym and restaurant in Sweden but is going to sell up and travel the world. I have so much respect for her. It’s also so nice to have proper girly chats. I’m really happy she’s still here.

After breakfast I went for a massage. It is the first one I’ve had since arriving in India and so felt it was fully deserved. In Varkala massages are as cheep as chips. It was £3.50 or 45 minutes or £4 for an hour. I splashed out and went for the hour (get me). I was told to go into the little side room and get naked, which I duly did (any opportunity) and then laid down nervously awaiting the lady. Instead of getting one lady, two arrive!

I shit you not it was the most sexual thing to happen to me ever. So imagine it. I’m completely starkers, two young girls then dribble hot oil all over me and then slowly caress it into my naked body. I’m talking boobs, lady garden, the whole shebang. I embarrassingly found myself making satisfied sex sighs. It was truly heavenly. Whilst one is massaging my hands the other was caressing my buttocks. I felt like Eddie Murphy in Coming to America when he gets bathed by all those chicks.

Just when I think things couldn’t possibly get any better, one of them started to plait my hair. Now if there’s one thing that is going to do it for me it’s someone playing with my hair. At that moment I could have died and I would have felt content with my lot. It was epic.

I came out of there some what dazed and confused, not to mention slightly questioning my sexuality. I saw the guys on the way home and told them all about it. I thought they might but chomping at the bit to get up there and have a massage but it seems even the promise of young chicks writhing over their naked skin is not enough to lure them away from the table. Today they were discussing Stalin! Hot massage or talk about Stalin??? It’s a toughie!

Deep and meaningful

By the time I got back to Varkala I felt like tiger from Winnie the Poo. A really kind Indian girl had helped me on the train (I didn’t really need any, but it was sweet all same), the sun was booming, and I felt full of the joys of spring. I didn’t even get upset with my amorous tuk tuk driver when he asked me if I liked sex. I just told him that it had been so long I couldn’t really remember, but as I recall it, I think it’s something that I’d like to take up again, as soon as I get home.

I got back to my little mouldy hut but now had a new found fondness for it. All it needed was an airing and for all my clothes to be washed again. No problem. I dumped my stuff and went for a coffee at the local restaurant. I shouldn’t have been surprised, as I was only away for 3 days, but all the guys were in exactly the same place as I’d left them, with the noted absence of the Russians. Uli told me that the Russians had gone travelling with two German girls for a week. Neither party speaks the others language (add to this the Russians are completely nuts). I can’t wait from them to get back to find out how they got on (Mel speaks Russian so can translate. Clever clogs).

Anand was there too. I don’t think I’ve written about Anand before. Anand comes from Kerala (although he's the most non-Indian Indian I have ever met) but speaks perfect English. He has his own company and recently finished a big contract, so came out for a drink to celebrate.  He ended up in Varkala, at the local restaurant, and has been here ever since. That was about 10 days ago. He seems in no rush to leave either.  

Varkala is a very difficult place to leave. I have just paid for another week (and then I’m definitely leaving). I have some serious sunbathing to do. It’s the only place in India you can get away with wearing a bikini. If I’m going to get me some of that sex stuff the tuk tuk driver was referring to I need to sort out my ridiculous tan. I don’t want to be naked in front of someone whilst looking like I am still wearing T-shirt and shorts.

The table was littered with very high brow books. Thank fuck I have a kindle as The unlikely pilgrimage of Harold Fry isn’t really in the same bracket. They are a really nice bunch of guys but quite possibly all too intelligent for their own good. They have an average age of about 27 years old. Surely they should be out partying and pulling chicks. Instead they all sit around this same table all day (and night) having conversations that are always intensely deep and far too intellectual for my liking. I don’t mind a deep and meaningful conversation sometimes but occasionally I just want to talk about cock or football and just have a giggle. Clearly I'm made of very different stock

Ukulele

I woke up to a view of the water and wildlife all around. It was utterly enchanting. I felt really at peace with the world (it won’t last). I went out on deck to find Karin and Phillip already up. They are such easy company. I really couldn’t have chosen better people to do this with. I felt really happy and content. You can imagine my glee when I realised for breakfast we were having eggs. There were 3 of us and they served up 9 eggs. As you know, I love an egg but 3?? Come on, even I think that’s excessive. To be fair I still couldn’t get my head around the fact that people just brought us stuff. I felt so grateful I would have eaten anything that they served.

The day was just perfect. It feels like I was in a different world. India is the noisiest, most bonkers place on the earth but being on the backwaters feels like you are in a paradise world. It is genuinely like being in a BBC nature programme. Everywhere you look there is something beautiful and awe inspiring. My face actually hurt from smiling so much. I just wished that all the people I love could see all these things too. My Grandad, god rest his soul, would have thought that this was perfect. I hope you can see it from where you are Granddad.

Along the way we saw a dragon boat race. It was pretty amazing. Some of the boats are enormous. They hold 102 people (so, I’m told. I lost count after about 7). It was like a carnival on the water. For miles people were out of their villages, lining the water edge, waving at the boats. It felt amazing to be part of it. It also appeased my constant desire for attention. These are the times when I fall in love with India. They’re also the times where it just feels great to be alive. At that time there was no where else in the world I would have rather been. They may be few and far between, but when these moments come along they are so wonderful that they will be permanently etched on my mind and soul.

When I didn’t think the day could get any better Phillip got his ukulele out (not a euphemism). It was so much fun. We all sang along (me badly) to all sorts of shit. I felt so comfortable with them that this felt like the most natural thing in the world. Generally I would have to be on my 2nd bottle of wine before contemplating signing.  Phillip sang Calendar Girl by Neil Sedaka and I thought I would burst with happiness. My Dad loves Neil Sedaka and used to play this song in the car. It is so dear to my heart. It was the perfect day and I went to bed with a very happy heart.

We eventually arrived at Alleppey on Monday morning and reluctantly made our way to the station. Within seconds you are abruptly reminded that you are still in India. The noise sounds almost deafening after a whole weekend of peace. I was sad to say goodbye to Karin and Phillip but I felt like this weekend had restored my faith in India, life, everything. I felt rejuvenated and ready to get on with things. You never know, I might even stop moaning.

Rummikub

After the tranquil boat jaunt we then had one of the most stressful journeys imaginable in order to get back to the house boat in time. To cut a long and traumatic story short. We saw two accidents. In the first one, a little girl got knocked off a bike (she was okay. Phew). I totally shit myself though. I reckon I’ve only just regulated my heartbeat now. The second one, a car hit the back of a bus. Annoyingly it was a woman driver so the tuk tuk driver and Phillip thought that this was most amusing. It’s great to see that sexism is alive and well in all continents.

We then drove through a village where there were about 20 men, all standing in the street eating. They waved for us to stop, which the tuk tuk driver duly did. Bear in mind that we’re already late and getting a bit stressy about arriving to the boat in time. The guys then offer us cups of this rice pudding type gear to celebrate the Onam festival. It was such a sweet gesture so we all accepted but we hadn’t bargained on it being nuclear hot.  The tuk tuk driver tells me I need to hurry cause we’re late. You fucking stopped. So after irreparably scalding the roof of my mouth we set off and arrived (an hour late) just in time to get on the boat.

It felt immediately peaceful. I had my own little room with an en suite bathroom. How very posh. I also had, in my bathroom, a huge spider. He was the size of a fist. I don’t actually mind spiders. I’m pretty cool with most things except for frogs, which are the spawn of the devil. I told Karin and Phillip they should come and see him. Phillip gallantly said that he would catch him and release him into the wild. He came out about two minutes later with a glum look on his face. Sadly in his attempt to free the spider, he accidently killed him instead. This blog is turning into a video nasty for insects. I didn’t even get a chance to name this one. If I had, he would’ve been called Gary.

It wasn’t long till we moored up and then we were brought our dinner. We had 3 staff (how very decedent). Only two were on board. The third arrived whilst we were docked and said that he was sorry he was late but he was visiting his friend in hospital. He said that he and his friends were in a car accident. I then asked if everyone was okay and he said no my friend is dead. Talk about kill the conversation. He seemed quite chipper though. I on the other hand was distraught.

After dinner Karin and I played a came called Rummikub. It’s essentially a card came but has been changed so you use little peg/counters instead. I was utterly shit at it but I loved playing. I am a massive game nerd. I love to play games. The Breeds’ play games at Christmas time and it’s what I look forward to most (that, and getting lots of stuff!!). I am the undisputed champion of Downfall (although I can just see our Jo reading this now, imagining that she has at some stage beaten me. In your dreams, Joey). If anyone thinks that they can beat me I will happily defend my title (even though the title is only really in my head). 

Dear diary.  Smashing day.  Night.  x

Rare Kingfisher sighting.

On Saturday I was woken up by a phone call from Clarkey. She was still very drunk from the night before and it made me miss home massively. She said that she had spent the night with Andy and Kate and that they'd made me a welcome home banner. How cute is that? She also told me that I’m very loved. Sometimes it’s just nice to hear it.

I was already beaming from the phone call but then Karin bought me a present. You might not get quite as excited about it as I did when I tell you it was a tube of glue. My Birkenstock’s (they’re sandals, Dad) are on their last legs. They are the most comfortable shoes in the world but the sole is coming away so I keep falling over (even without a drink). Karin had heard me moaning about it (and seen me trip over numerous times) so she bought me a tube of glue to fix them (apparently there was a man in the street with a table full of tubes of glue? I hadn’t realise that the demand for glue was so high in Kollom). I’m always astounded by people’s kindness. I was really touched. It worked too. I have only tripped over once since!

As well as the houseboat we also arranged for a punted canoe trip through the narrow backwaters of Kollom. The back waters are quite possibly the most tranquil, beautiful setting you can imagine. There is wildlife everywhere. David Attenborough would get an instant boner. I was so excited to see my first ever Kingfisher. It is the most majestic bird I have ever seen. When it flies and the sun catches its wings, it is the most beautiful blue colour I’ve ever seen. I was very chuffed with myself. It was only after a few hours that I realised you can’t move for frigging Kingfishers. My rare sighting, all of a sudden, didn’t seem quite as impressive.

Even though it was stunningly beautiful 3 hours is too long. My arse had gone complete gone to sleep and I found that all I was wondering how Charlton were getting on (I should’ve saved myself the worry. They lost. They are officially a shower of shite). My attention span is such that it is almost impossible for me to concentrate on anything for 3 hours in one go. I was happy to finally get off the canoe and (after about 20 minutes) to feel my arse again (annoyingly it’s still big).

Friendly Award

We got a taxi to Kollam straight to a hotel we’d found in the Lonely Planet. It was quite a grand entrance but the rooms were pretty basic (and expensive). I was showed to my room but the first two rooms were flooded (standard). Eventually after finding a dry room we all set off to sort out a deal for a house boat. It’s ironic the amount of stress you have to go through in order to arrange a weekend of peace and tranquillity. People crowd round you like you’re a member of a boy band. Everyone is trying to get you on their boat (still funny). There was a point when I thought that it might be easier to forget about it and just head back to Varkala. Nothing is ever straight forward here.

We needed some time to think over things so we got a tuk tuk to the harbour, where we thought we would find somewhere (relatively) quiet to sit and discuss the plan. Our driver was a bloke called Sudhi. He was telling me that he’d won an award for being the friendliest driver in Kerala (at a rough estimate there must be a gazillion tuk tuk drivers in Kerala). I’m not entirely sure who runs this competition or how it’s judged, because in the whole scheme of things old Sudhi didn’t seem particularly friendly  (well not enough to win an award). I would've only scored him a 7 out of 10 in the friendly stakes. If it were down to me I would dethrone him immediately.

He then produced an A4 folder, from under his chair, which had a photocopy of the paper cutting from when this story had been published. The story was about 10 years old and the picture was so faded it could have been a photograph of me and I still wouldn’t have recognised it. He had then filled the rest of the folder with letters from tourists saying how he was the happiest, friendly tuk tuk driver in Kerala. I had to take a sneaky picture as it tickled me so much. He has blatantly requested for these people to write him letters, as unless I've been doing it wrong all this time, a small tip of monetary value tents to be a much more preferred method of showing ones gratitude

We then went to the liquor store to get some booze for the boat. Phillip asked me how many beers I would drink. The actual answer should have been 7 bottles but after he said that he was only getting 2, I thought I should show some decorum and said about 4 or 5 would be fine. He plumped for 4. Argghh.

We then went back to the hotel. The view over the river was amazing so we sat outside, overlooking the water, drinking beer and watching the world go by. We saw an enormous fruit bat fly over and then hang in a nearby tree, and that was all it took for me to go to bed very happy, with a big smile on my face.

Sit on my boat.

I woke up early to a message from Mr Amazing (he might not be quite as amazing as I first though. Grrr). It appears I’ve been dumped before I’ve even been on a date (is that even possible?). I don’t generally laugh when I get blown out but this text was brilliant as he sent it before he’d finished (Fail!). It was a really short message and ended with him saying “Have dump”. I can only assume that he meant to say have fun (you’ve got to love predictive text). Or maybe not, maybe he was going to say “Have dumped you” Who knows?

He followed this up with another message saying “LOL, sent message before I’d finished”. LOL??????????? You can’t bin someone and then tell them how you are laughing out loud. I think Mr Amazing might have missed the lesson on how to dump chicks with an appropriate level of grace.

On the flip side, and to level out receiving a shit mesage, I received an email from Trip Advisor congratulating me on earning my first helpful vote from another traveller. Boom!. See, there is a point to me! The fortune teller’s prediction of me bringing joy to the world starts here. Watch this space.

Aside from the getting dumped part I was in a really good mood. I felt really excited to have a plan. Karin, Phillip and I are off to Kollom to get a houseboat to Alleyppey. We just get to chill on a luxury floating house for a couple of days. The boat goes all through the back waters of Kerala and is meant to be beautiful. It sounds idyllic and it can’t come soon enough. I also love the fact that while we’ve been trying to arrange this, people have been offering for me to “come on their boat”. Hahahaha. I’m sorry but it’s still funny. Even if I am the only one laughing (out loud).

I’m super excited about the house boat but it’s also nice to have people to kick about with. Everything just becomes a whole heap easier when you're with other people. Karin and Phillip and the perfect companions. They are really arty and intelligent as well as having a great sense of humour, not to mention that their English is far better than mine. Karin has a warmth about her, that is enchanting. She is bursting with joy and happiness as well as having a wonderful dark side and a filthy laugh. Phillip is great too. He is super intelligent as well as being a bit of a dude. I feel really comfortable with them (even after Clarkey asked me if they were swingers. Bad Clarkey!!. They’re not, just so you know).

I’m really looking forward to the weekend.

John Denver

Last night I met up with Karin and Phillip. They have asked me to go the back waters with them. At first I was worried that they’d offered just because they felt sorry for me, but they assured me that this was not the case and, that they would like the pleasure of my company for a couple of days. Karin then said that she felt it only fair to tell me that she is a clean freak and Phillip likes to play the ukulele. Both of those things I can totally live with (although it does depend how accomplished the ukulele playing is, I suppose). At that stage I should’ve probably told them my failings but I think it’s funnier for them to find out as the weekend unfolds. It all very much depends on the level of booze there is on board the boat.

We had dinner with a Swedish lady called Tina. Tina is 47 and as fit as a butcher’s dog. She must go to the gym every day for hours on end (I on the other hand, can’t even remember what the inside of a gym looks like). She has a body to die for and money has been well spent on her perfect rack. Annoyingly she is also super nice. There’s always a part of me that hopes, if someone is that hot then there should to be a defect somewhere else, to level it out. Take Taylor for example. Fit as fuck, but probably the dullest man on the planet (Jokes. Love you paedo).

After dinner we headed back to a party at the local restaurant. We were told that a famous Kerala singer was going to be performing. When we got there it was in full steam. There were about 7 Indian men crowded around the main man. It was like Beatle (or more John Denva) Mania. It was very cutting edge. The back catalogue of John Denver tunes was pumped out into the early hours. Who doesn’t love a bit of John Denver though? Unfortunately he didn’t sing Grandma’s feather bed which is a tragedy as it is one of my favourite songs of all time (Honestly. It’s sad but true).

Karin and Phil’s place was right next to the restaurant and the music was still really loud by the time they went to bed. Karin wasn’t bothered though and said it would be in ideal opportunity to have really loud sex. I love people who always look on the bright side of life. Before Karin went to bed, she had a massive barny with an American bloke who was being a pompous misguided prick. She let him have both barrels. It was spectacular to watch and for once I wasn’t involved. Win, win.

Mel was out this evening. He is the guy from New York who wants to see the poverty! He’s actually a whole heap cooler than I'd first given him credit for. We have big, deep, meaningful conversations about all sorts of shit. We disagree on most things but I love a bit of debate (shocked again, eh). After a couple of beers I do though have a tendency to deviate too much (I’m very easily distracted). I end up losing all hope of ever getting back to my original point, which is shit if you’re comprehensively trying to win an argument.

I was telling Mel that I’m trying to write a book. He asked what it was about. I said it was a modern day comedy romance i.e. including internet dating and social networking. He said I should call it You’ve got no mail. I’m still laughing now. If I ever write this book I am so nicking that title. Cheers Mel.

Wayne Sleep

Yesterday was a complete wash out. I like a bit of rain but this is relentless. It rained from the minute I woke up to the moment I went to sleep. That last bit might not be strictly true as I was pretty pissed when I went to bed so it may have stopped, but all the time I was conscious it rained.

I went to have a coffee (which was very quickly followed by gallons of Kingfisher) at the local café. Uli was there with one of the Russians. There are two Russian blokes who I have seen about but yesterday was the first time I’ve spoken to them. Actually they don’t speak English and my Russian is a bit rusty so it was mainly just a lot of smiling and misunderstanding each other.

They are two brothers from Moscow who are quite possibly the biggest blokes I have ever met. They make Dolph Lundgren look like Warwick Davies. They’ve got to be at least 6 foot 5. They've hands the size of shovels and size 14 shoes (just saying). They have really sunken cheeks, so they look a bit like Skeletor from He-Man (now that was some good shit). They're constantly pissed (they drink whiskey from the minute they’re awake) and are always massively inappropriate. They really don’t give a fuck. It’s a refreshing change. I can’t understand a word they say but they make me laugh. They are as funny as fuck. Uli does not approve. Apparently his love of Russians is on par with his love of Germans.

Because of the weather it seemed that everyone in town had the same idea so within no time the table was packed. It was like a drunken Benetton convention. There were 2 Russians, 3 Dutch, 3 English, a German, an Austrian and an Indian (sounds like some dodgy Bernand Manning joke). The Austrian bloke was amazing. He was the absolute spitting image, in body and soul, of Wayne Sleep. He was even wearing a bandana. Are you having that? He’s a dance teacher too. It just gets better and better.

I ended up going for dinner with the Dutch couple and Wayne Sleep. We had so much fun. The Dutch couple are adorable and Wayne Sleep was a total legend. It oddly made me miss home even more though. I know I shouldn’t wish my life away but I am very excited about coming home. I’ve even managed to set up a date for my return with Mr Amazing. Good work from 2000 miles away, eh. I just need to try not to fuck things up between now and home time. What are the chances? Oi, have some faith! 

R.I.P John

It’s a very sad day. John died! It looks like he died because he ran into a puddle of Head and Shoulders shampoo that I’d spilt on the floor (does that mean I accidently killed him?). It appears it’s good for a flaky scalp but fatal to geckos (it doesn’t mention this on the packaging). It looked like he was just resting but on closer inspection it became apparent that he was proper dead. The weird thing was that his little suckers still worked so I had to really pull him off the floor. It felt like one of those squiggy toys that you used to throw at windows and they would crawl down them (these are the sort of things you do when you don’t have a bike). I’ve not seen Dave for ages either. It has rained for about 30 hours solidl, so the dogs have fucked off too. Turn coats!! Trying to build relationships in India is proving very difficult.

Aside from animal news I haven’t really been doing a lot else. I’ve been trying to avoid Uli as much as possible. This isn’t an easy task. This place is so small that you’ve only got to walk out of your hut and he’s there. He has taken to knocking for me at least a couple of times a day. I generally pretend to be asleep. He keeps asking me to charge his mp3 player. For someone who loves music as much as tone deaf Uli, I find it hard to believe that he doesn’t have his own charger. Paradise resorts are not meant to have annoying neighbours. Arrghh!!

There are 3 English girls who I have not met but I’ve had the delight in occasionally overhearing their conversations. I started listening as they were talking about eggs, and as you all know I’m partial to a bit of egg chat. One of them said, whilst stroking her stomach, ”I had scrambled eggs yesterday and it was so yummy in my tummy” They are proper “gap yar” kids. I could listen to them for hours. It’s like something out of a French and Saunders sketch.

The trouble with the majority of travellers I’ve met is that they are mainly pretentious pricks. Everyone is trying to find themselves and they all bang on about being free spirits. They sit about playing top trumps of the most dangerous / remote places they’ve ever been. They see themselves as Bear Grylls when in reality if you were to take away Daddy’s credit card, they wouldn’t last the night. Sweet but utterly clueless.  I met a bloke yesterday from New York. He was nice enough but his primary reason for coming to India was to see poverty. He didn’t say he wanted to do anything to change the situation, just that he wanted to see it? He was saying all this from a luxury resort in Varkala, South India. Right on, man! .

Uli

Uli said that we should go for a walk so that he could show me the views along the cliff.  The views were breathtaking. It would have been beautifully romantic if I wasn’t with Uli. He is a sweet man and will make some girl very happy, but it aint gonna be me. I get the feeling that he is looking to find a replacement girlfriend. He split up with his girlfriend a little while before he came here. He met her in India. I think he thinks that India is where you pick up chicks. Hasn’t he heard of internet dating?

My fears that Uli may be wanting more than just a stroll along the cliff came to fruition over dinner when he abruptly asked me how I saw him romantically. There was no build up. This was not a topic of conversation. It completely floored me. I have no idea how you explain to someone that you don’t find them attractive, in a way that doesn’t sound patronising or condescending. It was a moment that I want to erase from my memory forever. I went on for far too long about how it wasn’t him and that my heart belongs to another blah blah blah. It was awful. He didn’t seem overly crushed. I think I was more mortified.

If it were me I would want the world to swallow me up but the news that I don’t find him attractive has done nothing to dampen Uli’s spirits. He seems to feel no shame at all in offering me massages, coming over to my hut with random bits of shit that he thinks I might want (a size 10 pair of flip flops. Yeah, cause they’ll come in handy). He is beginning to get on my tits now. I ditched him yesterday and went to the beach. It was blissful. I even got to wear a bikini, and in true British style, I am burnt to buggery. My tan just keeps on getting better.

Dave and John

As well as sharing my little hut with 2 dogs I seem to be sharing the bathroom with 2 geckos. One has his tail missing, so walks as if he’s pissed. Poor little lamb. It takes him a lot longer to run away from me, when I open the bathroom door (yes, it even has a door to the toilet). I’m assuming it’s male. My knowledge in the field of how to sex a gecko needs some work. I’ve named them Dave and John so if they are girls they’re not going to like that very much.

Seeing as I’m only paying £3 per night for my little hut I thought I would splash out on another pair of sexy trousers. All my trousers are falling apart. You’ll be glad to hear that I’m still in possession of the orange elephant ones. I went into the local shop to purchase said trousers. The girl selling them was a beautiful young girl called Sonia. She was born to sell. If there’s one thing I hate more than small talk, it’s haggling. I find the whole experience painful. Sonia, though, was loving it. At times I felt like I was in a pantomime. It was awful. After wasting five minutes of my life that I am never getting back, I am now the proud owner of some green Ali Baba pants (paid £3. I told you she was good). I’m like the Alexia Chung of India, me.

I have no mirror in my hut which on many levels is a really good thing. Sometimes you really don’t need reminding about what you’ve become. I’ve never felt less sexy in my life. If you could see my wardrobe you’d realise how vanity is now a thing of the past. I would never wear any of this clobber at home. I look like one of the animal rights activists who protest outside Coleman Street.   The minute I get back, I am hauling on skinny jeans (I may have to wedge myself into them) and putting on high heels. This is all after I have spent an entire day in the bath.

Donning my new pants I met up with Uli to go into town. Uli said I looked nice. He didn’t even appear to mean it in an ironic way. Maybe this is a good look in Germany? They love David Hasslehoff, for fuck sake. Uli is sweet but he seems quite negative. He doesn’t really seem to like anyone very much and has a complete disregard for Germany. You’d think he was English the way he slates Germany. The only people who he does seem to be very fond of are the beautiful young Indian girls who work in the shops. Funny that. He’s young enough to get away with it at the moment. Another 10 years and he’s just a dirty old man.

My little thatched hut

I got the train at a very agreeable 10.30 am and instead of paying 710r (a robbing travel agent had said the ticket would cost that much) I paid 80r at the station. Boom! It was the most civilised train station I’ve even been to in India. The whole experience was completely pain free. I would have been happy just kicking about in the station for a couple of days but I had a ticket to Varkala and was super excited to get to the beach.

I was even more excited when I found a place to stay. It’s true, it does sometimes look like a little timber prison, but I feel really happy here. I am now the proud, temporary, owner of a little, wicker hut. I have a cute little porch, with 2 two lounge chairs. (I've even managed to bribe two dogs to come and sit with me. All it took was a cheese sandwich). I have a big double bed and a soft pillow. If you ignore the damp and the slight smell it’s quite homely. There’s no hot water but I've managed to sweet talk the old boy who works here, into getting me a bucket of hot water each day. It’s an exciting sight seeing him come back with a full bucket of water. I am very easily pleased these days.

From my little window (the ones without bars) I can see the sea. Not only can I see the sea, I can hear it too. I could listen to that sound for hours (which is fortunate seeing as that’s all I’m going to be doing for a week or so). It makes me feel peaceful, which at times has seemed like an impossible task. I think I’ll stay here for a while, before going back into the craziness of real life.

I unpacked my stuff then went for dinner. At the restaurant I met a German bloke called Uli (quality name). He asked if he could join me. Seeing as my options are fairly limited I was happy for the company. It’s probably fair to say that Uli has even less direction in life than me (if that’s actually possible). He has jacked in his job just to sit about Varkala all day. Don’t get me wrong the place is like paradise but it’s not real life. If I were to stay here for more than 2 weeks I would go insane. It’s amazing to be lucky enough to see a place like this but life isn’t about places it’s about people and without your mates and your family then there’s not a huge amount of point in anything.

It was nice to have someone to talk to. We talked about all sorts of shit. He is a cool enough guy. I really like people who are passionate about something. He is completely passionate about his music. The problem is his music is properly pony. It felt like the musical equivalent of someone scraping their nails down a blackboard. Old Uli loves it though. At some stage in the evening he made the boldest claim of any person I have ever met. He said that he would happily trade all the other music in the world for this one song. After making a claim like that, the track that follows needs to be pretty fucking spectacular. This sounded like that something from the Swedish band, Europe (you remember, the final countdown. if you’re under the age of 30, google it) It felt like my ears would actually start bleeding at any minute. Christ, it was a long night.

Plate Please.

I went back to the hotel room and ordered egg on toast. It was delivered about half an hour later, without a knife and fork. Now, I have just about mastered easting Indian food with my hands but eating egg on toast without a knife and fork is a whole new ball came. It wasn’t pretty. I watched some crap on TV, which is all I seem to do when I get a TV in my room. This time I watched Scorpion King 2. It was a pile of pants but the majority of the blokes in it had next to nothing on so I was loathed to change channel.

After an afternoon siesta (is this what it feels like to be retired?) I headed down to the ocean to watch the sunset. It would’ve been very romantic if only there was someone to share it with. Also, the flemming and spitting from the local fishermen seemed to dampen the romantic ambience somewhat. The fishermen were really sweet and entertained me for a while. Generally people try to take pictures of me wherever I go. The funny white girl, that smokes. I reckon I have made it to people’s holiday albums all over India. These blokes though were only interested in me taking their picture. The pictures didn’t come out that well which was probably good for them as it looked like we were shooting the cover of Gay Fishermen Weekly. Camptastic.

I watched the sunset and felt fairly content with life albeit a bit lonely. I headed Back to the hotel to make the most of the posh room and to have an early night. I fell asleep watching footy (god, I miss footy). I was woken up about 10.30pm. I thought something was wrong (it felt like it was in the middle of the night). I opened the door to find the waiter from earlier who had delivered my egg on toast. He had come to ask for the plate back. Are you shitting me? I’m not sure what the correct protocol is for collecting room service dishes but I’m pretty sure after 10pm you’re probably best just to leave it till the morning. I am destined never to get a good nights kip in this country.  

Kanyakumari (I love saying that)

I had to catch my train at 2 am, so walked to the station and oddly felt the safest I’ve ever felt. The only people that were about were bin men (which came as a great shock, considering the place is an utter shit hole), or people asleep in the street. Even at that time in the morning it was baking hot. By the time I had lugged all my shit to the station I was sweating like Taylor in a playground (that’s for telling me that Charlton went into administration). The station was overrun by cockroaches, rats and mosquitoes. Magic! Three of my favourite things.

I managed to get to Kanyakumari (It’s the furthest south you can travel before falling in to the ocean) without any drama, so thank the lord for small mercies. I arrived, and as usual the tuk tuk driver took me to an entirely different place than I wanted to go. This time though I was too pissed off to entertain him and wouldn't even get out till he took me to a fancy hotel. I got a room with a mahousive bed, AC and a balcony with a sea view (all for £18. I’m like Rockafella, me). It was pretty swish by recent standards. I was only there for one day to watch the sun set over 3 oceans so without a sea view it’s pretty pointless.   I also felt I deserved a day by the sea.

I got the ferry over to the Vivekananda Memorial. Its about four hundred metres from shore It’s a big old rock where they have built a beautiful memorial to Swami Vivekananda.  He, apparently, is some dude who used to go over and meditate on this rock. They seem to love people that sit about all day. I’m surprised they haven’t got a memorial to me, is all I chuffing do. We were literally on the ferry for about 4 minutes but they insisted we where the biggest life jackets I have ever seen. They wouldn’t even have been too small for meathead. They were mahousive. I felt like a right spanner.

It was all worth it though as it felt so good being on the little island (or large rock).  It felt amazing being surrounded by ocean. I feel dead calm and peaceful when I’m by the sea (It also makes me want to go to toilet!). I had to take my shoes off too, and you know how I feel about that. I felt really happy and wondered if I am infact bi-polar. I seem to be either on the verge of a breakdown or so in awe of the place that it takes my breath away. This place was pretty awe inspiring. Today I like India again.

To the haters

To those people who called me a racist and a disrespectful bitch.  Whilst I thank you for your kind comments I would also like to take this opportunity to tell you to fuck yourselves.  You didn't put your names on the messages but I feel safe in the knowledge that I couldn't give a rats arse to what you think of me, whoever you are.

This is a blog to tell my mates how I'm doing.  I can't imagine for one minute that you are mates of mine because you seem like utter dicks.  Who takes the time to put nasty comments on other people's blogs?? You're like them sad fuckers who used to write in to points of view.  Just don't read the fucking thing if it upsets you so much.  I dunno, go out and try to make some real friends.

Rant over.  

Madurai

I arrived at Madurai bus station at 4.15 in the morning to be greeted by about a million tuk tuk drivers all shouting at me. They were like a pack of baying wolves. I wasn’t in the mood so told a few of them to fuck off too. I choose the least pushy of the lot and the one who looked the least perverted. I’m happy to report that he delivered me to my hotel without touching me up or saying anything remotely inappropriate.

I arrived at the hotel. I knew it wasn’t going to be great as I’d read the reviews but I also knew it would be one of the only ones that had a 24 hour check in. I just wanted to go to bed and shut the door on life for a while. The check in bloke was really helpful and cheerful which is a lot to be said for anyone at 5am. He told me to get the lift to the second floor. As soon as the doors opened I had to literally step over a man who was sleeping on the floor, outside the lift lobby and in front of my room. Nothing is weird to me anymore.

The room was indeed shit but I'd already mentally prepared myself. I didn’t even freak out when I saw a cockroach the size of a small hamster, run out from the bathroom. To be fair I was just happy to be off of the bus. I even managed to get 2 hours sleep. I did though have the worst nightmares imaginable. This beach holiday cannot come quickly enough. I am a woman on the edge.

Madurai is horrible. I am not a fan of cities in India. Fish wants to travel to all of them. Ace. It feels like life is racing at a million miles an hour. It took me about 20 minutes just to cross the road. You end up just stepping out and hoping for the best. I got to the train station to get the first train out of there to Kanyakumari (where hopefully I might find some peace) but of course the next train is not for another 17 hours. Train stations in India are comparable to demonators in Harry Potter, they suck the joy and spirit from you. I felt broken when I left there.

I listened to classical music to see if that would calm me down. It is pretty surreal listening to Rachmaninov piano concertos when all around you is utter chaos. I decided to go the Sri Meenakshi Temple that everyone bangs on about. It is architecturally beautiful but I am so over this religious/spiritual malarkey. Some of the people inside were throwing themselves down, and kissing the floor. I really love Micky Flanagan but I don’t feel the need to kiss his feet. I find it all quite disturbing. The only good thing about temples in my eyes is that you get to mince about with your shoes off. Not sure why, but I really like it!

Toucher

It appears the blessing didn’t work as I had the most horrendous bus journey. Everything was going to clockwork. The bus arrived on time. It had a cute little bed with a curtain and I was knackered so was looking forward to getting a couple of hours of shut eye. I fell asleep really easily, which for me is nothing short of a miracle. I think the momentum of the bus and the breeze really helped (as did the couple of cans of booze I necked before boarding).

I was woken up by a bloke who had got into my bed and was stroking my arm. What the fuck is wrong with people? It took a couple of seconds for my brain to catch up with what was happening. I thought he might have accidently got into the wrong bed, would realise his mistake and be desperately embarrassed but the cheeky fucker then just calmly asked me my name. I told him to fuck off. I think he assumed this was my name as he held out his hand for me to shake it. I was cocking petrified. I told him to do one but he said he couldn’t sleep and just wanted to sit with me for 5 minutes. I then pretty much woke everyone on the bus by yelling at the fucktard. He then reluctantly returned to his bed (opposite me) and just glared at me for the rest of the journey. I have never wanted my Daddy more!

I spent the rest of the journey like a little frightened child. Every time the curtain moved I shit myself. I now have another train journey to look forward to this evening. The train doesn’t come till 2am. What is it with Indian transport? What would be so wrong with running a train service at a reasonable hour? I can’t tell you how excited I am to be sitting about in a city train station in the middle of the night. Sometimes I hate this place. Today is one of them.

Fortune Teller

With a new found skip in my step I went for a walk to a nice restaurant. Whilst at lunch Fish called me. I was telling him all the things that I miss. A bloody good bath is the thing that I miss most (obviously after friends and family). He figured it might be difficult to bring one of those out for me but said that he’ll pack away a couple of bottles of white wine for us to drink. I haven’t had wine since I arrived as it’s too bloody expensive. It will feel really decadent to be drinking wine. I would say that I’ll savour the experience but knowing me I’ll be shit faced after the first glass. I was excited about Fish’s arrival as it was, now I’m in fear of passing out with anticipation.

After lunch I went off to meet my new little mate to give him my English coins. He was very excited to see me and was really grateful for the money. As promised, in return he read my fortune. I figured he was going to read my palm (isn’t that how it normally works?). Instead he said he was going to read my face? After glaring at me for ages and stroking my cheeks a couple of times he concluded that I have a very lucky face and I will bring great joy to the world. Oh, and also I’ll get married next year. Let’s hope this one doesn’t cheat on me on the honeymoon too!

Aside from being as mad as a box of frogs, he was really sweet and his predictions made me giggle so it was £2 well spent. After leaving my nutty fortune teller I still had another 5 hours to kill before the bus (I seem to spend a third of my life waiting about for sodding transport). I went back to the guest house where landlord was celebrating Ganesh’s birthday. He invited me to join him and his family. He then gave me some sweets to eat, made of wheat. They were properly minging. I had to eat it though as all the family were watching me. It took about 3 minutes to swallow the bloody thing. He said it was a blessing and I was now blessed. What with the sweet and my big old lucky face, maybe things will start to get better?

Elephant God

Today has been infinitely better than yesterday. I think I was just feeling distinctly unloved but that was rectified last night/this morning after receiving lots of lovely messages and phone calls. I am such a whore for attention!

I’d been worried about the bus journey to Madarai, as I can’t imagine being on a bus for 7 hours and not once needing to go to toilet. I piss like a racehorse as it is without having my bladder being subjected to the bumpy Indian roads for hours on end. I have no idea how people do it. Silla, the Swedish girl I met was always on buses. Fuck that, I want as much luxury as I can afford.

My lovely landlord came to my rescue and organised a sleeper bus for me. Not only does it have toilets, I also get a bed. I suppose there’s a slight clue in the title, sleeper bus. He drove me down to the travel agent on the back of his bike (by way of a change). Whilst on the way he said that he would let them know that we were coming as it was the last ticket. He then starts texting. Shall I just check for traffic then?

Today is a public holiday. They are celebrating the Elephant god Ganesha. Apparently it’s his birthday. To have a birthday don’t you have to be real?. Call me cynical but I’m not having there was ever a man who was half elephant and half man. It would be a lot funnier for me if it was the other way around and his face was human but his bottom half was like an elephant. That I could get involved with.

All over town there are clay statues being made of Ganesha. They all buy one to take to the temple and then in 3 days time they take them down to the sea and thrown them in. Like India needs some more shit in its water. As it is it is about the dirtiest sea I have ever seen. It is also flip flop central. I have never seen so many solo flip flops floating about.

I met a bloke earlier on who asked me if I had any English coins as he wants to give them to his kids. As it happens I do have a couple kicking about so I said I would bring them to him later (I’ve got sod all better to do). He said in return he will read my palm. They believe in Elephant men so of course they are going to be all over palm reading. I’ll let you know how I get on.

It’s going to be pretty hard for him to read my left hand as it is covered in Henna. I look like I have fallen asleep with my hand in a bucket of shite. I was going to dye my hair as I have a few grey ones. I bought some henna (which I had to mix with my hand). I did a test strand and the test strand went bright orange. I think I’ll stick with the grey!

Sad

I feel really sad today.  The English girls who I met have now gone and I feel more alone than ever.  This is not helped by the fact that I can’t sleep at all.  I’m absolutely knackered but the minute I put my head on the pillow/concrete brick masquerading as a pillow, my mind goes into overdrive and I can’t sleep for love nor money.   I seem to be constantly anxious.  I was hoping that I would have an epiphany whilst in India about what I want to do with my life, but alas, I am still clueless.  

If by the grace of god (or by the consumption of vast amounts of alcohol) I do fall asleep, I am woken up by Asbo dogs.  There are a pack of them (about 15) that hang around outside my guest house in the same way that teenagers congregate outside MacDonalds.  They take it upon themselves to howl at the moon like wannabe wolves, for hours on end or fight with each other relentlessly.  I’m normally a big dog lover but I could happily herd the lot of them up and chuck them off a cliff.

If it’s not the dogs then it’s the demonic crows.  India is overrun by the squawking little fuckers.   I never really used to have an opinion about crows either way but I have a passionate dislike of them now.  They are pretty spooky too.  Aren’t they connected to death somehow?   Or am I thinking of a bird flying into a window?  Either way I can’t see a point to them. 

I know that it will pass but at the moment I feel lost and lonely and in serious need of a big hug from someone who loves me (or failing that, just anyone).  I want someone to wipe away my tears and tell me that everything will be okay and that I didn’t make a massive mistake by being here. 

Tomorrow I am on the road again.  It's going to take me about 3 days to get where I am going which, will be joyous.  I am headed for the beach.  I am going to take a week out and just chill for a while so maybe that will sort my sorry arse out. 

Sorry to moan.  I feel better for purging. 

I miss you all heaps. 

Sending you all lots of virtual love

xx

Frankie

I couldn’t sleep so was up at the crack of dawn.  I went downstairs in the sitting room to read.  Frankie and his Dad were there.  Frankie’s Dad had to do something (hopefully not jack up) so Frankie and I just hung out for an hour.  He is by far the coolest, funniest little kid on the face of the planet.  He may be slightly too advanced for his years though.  He was explaining his experience in Hampi and said “The monkeys at Hampi nicked my bag of fruit.  Bastard monkeys”.  He’s only 6!!  I suppose growing up with a smack head Dad would lead you to swearing at an early age. 

He showed me a load of funny stuff on the internet.  The No, no. no cat and goats that sound like humans.  It was very funny.  We giggled for ages.  There is probably no sweeter sound in the world than when a kid laughs.  He then tried to teach me to play Lego world on his Nintendo.  I was truly terrible.  He said to me “you’re not very good at this are you, Kate.  Don’t worry I'm sure you are good at other things”  Bless his little cotton socks.  I am utterly smitten.  Such a shame they are leaving today.

Two of the girls went to the beach, so I got to kick about with Anna.  Anna is lovely.  All the girls are nice but Anna is by far my favourite.  She has a dry sense of humour and is happy to take the piss almost the moment that you meet her.  Totally my kind of girl.  

The girls and I went out for dinner in the evening. Oh, before I forget (like I’d actually forget) at dinner the girls said they thought I was only 29.  Boom!!  Are you having that??  After dinner we set off in search of drink to celebrate Karries birthday.  It was fairly late already so the only way to get booze was on the black market.  I love a bit of skulduggery.  We managed to find ourselves a suitably corrupt tuk tuk driver who took us to the back streets of puducherry to get vodka (shit loads of the stuff).  

When we got back to the guest house it was locked up.  We had to call to wake the night guard up.  I felt bad but it also felt good to be being slightly naughty.  Back inside we drank, smoked and talked shit.  It was brilliant.  I’ve really missed belly laughing.  It felt amazing.  We talked about the normal shit that girls talk about; boys, sex, pissing on our trousers, arse showers.  The level of conversation was exceptionally intellectual.  I went to bed about 4am, very happy and slept for the first time in Puducheery.  Booze is the way forward.  

English Chicks

I told Steve that I needed to work (‘ark at me, like I’ve even got a job), as I needed some alone time.  While he was out he bumped into some English girls that he had met in Cochin so said that we would all go out to dinner.  How very exciting.  English people to speak to!

We went to a really nice restaurant.  The girls (Anna, Rachel and Carrie) rocked up and they are all adorable.  They are fine art students in their final year of uni.  They’re only 21 but have their heads totally screwed on (probably more than me, although that’s probably not that hard).  It felt so good to laugh at stuff that other people just don’t seem to get.  I love the humour of the Brits.  I’ve missed it so much.  This could be the happiest I have been since I got here.  

Get this, I even had a steak and it was bloody delicious.  It was the first piece of beef I’ve had, in what feels like forever.  Puducherry has a French quarter so there are a whole host of French restaurants (the down side is that it’s full of French).  It’s nice to have a change from Indian food and have a night off of the carbs (ignoring the buckets of Kingfisher I consumed).

On the other table an English man and his little son, from the guest house were having their dinner.  I went over to speak to them as I’d had a chat earlier on and was pretty smitten with the little boy Frankie.  He is only 6 but speaks like he’s about 15.  He has a little red mohican and is probably the coolest kid in school.  Within minutes the dad was telling me how he was just getting off heroin (him, not Frankie).  Shouldn’t that conversation come a bit later on?  I think I just have that kind of face where people feel its okay to tell me stuff.  I don’t really know why cause I'm shocking round a secret.  I can’t keep one for toffee, not even my own.

Another thing that happened today was I attempted to ride a motorbike.  It was disastrous!! I now understand why Dad was so embarrassed when I was learning to ride a bike.  I have got to be the most retarded driver known to man.  Within about two seconds I was very nearly in a ditch.  I gave up shortly afterwards, not only for my own safety but for the safety of all the people, dogs and cattle in Auroville.  I’ve been involved in two road traffic accidents just by walking so it was probably a terrible idea in the first place.  I won't be doing it again (you can sleep easy, Dad) any time soon.  

Giant Golf Ball.

Steve rocked up really early in the morning. In some ways it was nice to see him but I was just worried that he was going to lunge at some stage. It took about half an hours for my fears to be confirmed. I had to explain that I didn’t mind him staying but I wasn’t about to have a repeat performance of jizzgate. I am sure he’s not too broken hearted but possibly his ego was bruised slightly. Either way, at least it’s out of the way now. 

I didn’t have any plans for the day so when Steve said he would take me to Auroville I decided to go. This is the ethos behind Auroville;

“Auroville wants to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities. The purpose of Auroville is to realise human unity."

Mmmm. As you can imagine the place is full of new age hippies. You can tell that a lot of the people came over on the 60’s and never left (and seemingly never washed their hair since arriving either). It was good to see but being around too many do gooders, for too long, would wear me out.  

You can’t really hate on hippies but equally I don’t want to spend too much time being that deep. They are so deep, they’re almost drowning.

It was a proper trot (and about a million degrees) but finally I reached the Matrimandir which, is like a massive gold golf ball in the very centre of Autoville. Inside is a (very fancy and expensive) meditation centre. I was told that only the very serious make it inside. That pretty much rules me out then. It’s a tick in a box of things I wanted to see but I’ll not be rushing back there. I can’t concentrate for 5 minutes. I can’t imagine being inside a golden golf ball would do anything to change that.

Whilst I was there I was eaten alive by insects and mosquitoes. Maybe that was my penance for not taking it seriously. So to add to my dodgy feet, dodgy tan, ringworm, etc I am now covered in bites. If you did dot to dot on my legs you could probably make out the Taj Mahal.

Pondy

I arrived in Ponducherry and felt immediately happy.  Whilst only slightly cooler than Chennai, the vibe of the place is much calmer.  Here’s a fact for you.  Puducheery has the biggest cows I have ever seen in my life (you'll sleep easy tonight now, knowing that).  I actually saw a few white faces along the way.  Who knew that there where white people in India?  

It took me a while to find a guest house, mainly due to the robbing bastard tuk tuk driver.  I think he took me to all his friends’ places.  All of which were shitter than shit.  I eventually plumped for an expensive one (£10 a night) but I’m really pleased I did.

The room itself is nothing to write home about and at times it feels like I am sleeping on the middle shelf of an fan assisted oven but they have a communal sitting room which, not only has AC and wifi, but also has, wait for it……some travellers.  Hallelujah. 

As sson as I'd unpacked I had a call from Steve (you remember him, jazzy pants) saying that he was on a bus (it only takes a brief 15 hours) and would be in Ponducherry in the morning.  Ace!!  He then asked if he could crash with me for a day, before his mate arrived. Double ace!!  I didn’t have the heart to tell him to do one, so being very British I said of course he could stay.  My room has two beds (thank the lord) so it should be fine. 

I met some English girls in the sitting room.  They were sweet and extremely posh.  I can only imagine Daddy paid for them to come to India to rough ‘em up a bit.  So far it didn’t look as if it had worked very well.  They looked like little scared field mice.  As I say, they were super cute though and even invited me out to dinner with them.  I didn’t go in favour of an early night.  Plus I'm not sure how much I would have had in common with them.  I have no idea what 17 year old girls are into.  One direction??  My knowledge of One direction runs as far as I know there are 5 of them and that one’s called Harry Styles.  The end! 

Trouser Malfunction

At Egmore station I had a massive trouser malfunction, in that they split so badly that cheekage was visible (less to do with my lardy arse and more to do with the fact that they cost me £1, or so I'm determined to believe) It’s frowned upon to have knees and shoulders showing over here, so I’m not sure how they felt about my visible arse crack. I had to do an emergency outfit change (on the platform) in front of oh, I don’t know, about 80 people.  I get stared at wherever I go as it is, it really doesn’t help matters by whipping off my trousers in public.  Lesson to be learnt – Spend more than a pound on trousers, and maybe start eating a few salads.  

Whilst I was waiting for the train a little old man came over to speak to me.  The opening line, always is “where you coming from”.  Normally my heart sinks as I'm pretty crap at small talk at the best of times and invariably the people who are asking me don’t speak much more English than that, so it all becomes cringe worthy within seconds, but Sujit was great.  He spoke brilliant English and was super sweet and really interesting.  I reckon he must have been about 70 odd, as when we were speaking about Bangalore he said that he hadn’t been for a while.  I asked him when he last went and he said 1950!!

On the train I met 3 Indian blokes, one of which spoke reasonable English, the other two, not so much.  They all seemed really nice (a little bit pervy but that seems to be par for the course, or at least in my experience).  One of the blokes who spoke shabby English declared “I’m Single”.  I then said Oh, I’m sure you’ll find someone nice soon, blah, blah, blah (whilst adopting my most sincere, caring face).  He looked at me pretty blankly, then produced a business card.  He was actually saying “I’m a singer”.  Oppss. 

On the way back from the toilet a scary looking bloke came over to me.  I didn’t have a clue what he was saying but he was really aggressive and to be fair I was pretty scared. The blokes who I had been talking to came to my rescue and told him to do one.  I was really touched (very nearly inappropriately).  They even walked me to the taxi rank to make sure I was safe.  It’s times like this when I am at my happiest.  The kindness of strangers is so heart warming.  Bless their little cotton socks.  Happy, happy, happy

Knickers

To my delight there was a massive air conditioned shopping mall right near my hotel.  I wasn’t at all excited about the shops themselves as I can’t stand shopping (It’s those weak girl genes of mine) but I was all over the air conditioning.  In fact I stayed there for 4 hours!  They even had a Marks and Spence , which I did get excited about because I am in desperate need of knickers (is this too much information?).  As you can imagine thongs are not something that you can pick up easily in India.  I did once go into a shop in Kerala where I tried to explain to the guy what a thong was but it was all becoming too pornographic for his liking.  He looked utterly terrified so I gave up and left.  Knickerless

3 pairs of knickers in M&S cost the same as a hotel room for the night.  What the fuck is all that about?  I weighed up the options and decided that seeing as I stink already, fresh pants aren’t really going to make a huge amount of difference.  You can’t polish a turd, as they say! 

It appears that they only have one album (Michael Jackson’s Bad), which they play continuously, on a loop in the shopping centre.  I appreciate that it’s a good album but if I hear Liberian Girl one more time I think I might lose the will to live. 

My room was pretty awful but seeing as I was only there for one night I wasn’t too fussed.  Plus I think I have massively lowered my standards since arriving in India.  I wasn’t at all prepared though and didn’t have toilet paper (crap hotels don’t give you toilet paper.  No pun intended), so I had to use the arse shower.  I am pleased to report that it was not only most effective but also quite pleasant..  I may not have clean pants but I have a sparkly clean bum (and there was me concerned that the knicker thing might have been too much information)! 

Chennai

I finally arrived in Mettupalayam with two hours to kill before my connecting train to Chennai.  I figured I would have a wander about to get something to eat but unfortunately it was just dust road for as far as the eye could see so I had to stay put at the station.  While I was waiting our Jo called to say that she may be able to arrange for my cash card to be couriered to India (it’s not what you know it’s who you know which, is probably a good thing as I don’t know jack!). 

While I was talking to her, two ladies came over to ask for money.  I did my best to ignore them but they weren’t budging.  I decided the easiest thing to do was give them some change, as it was putting me off the conversation, them just glaring at me.  I told Jo to hold on a minute while I got some change and she said "Tell ‘em to fuck off".  Bless her.  She should get a job working for Oxfam..  So much compassion.

We arrived in Chennai at 4.50am.  The weird thing is that there are no announcements on the train to tell you that you have arrived.  You just need to set your alarm and hope for the best (or rely on Swedish chicks to wake you up).  The heat hits you as soon as you get off the train.  They said it was hot in Chennai but Christ on a bike, how can it possibly be that hot when it’s not even 5am?  By lunchtime it felt like I was walking on the surface of the sun.  I thought I would burst into flames at any given moment (I might be being slightly dramatic now but it’s not far off).

In the guide book it says that Chennai’s charm lies in its inhabitants.  What a load of tosh.  They were a right bunch of miserable fuckers.  Mind you, so would I be walking about in that heat, all day.  The only person who was sweet to me was the tuk tuk driver I got from the station.  He was telling me about his brother, who was working for Jaguar in the UK.  I asked where abouts he worked in the UK and he said in a factory.  It made me giggle.  Sometimes I really love the lost in translation thing.  

Falling apart

As you all know I am not sporting a very attractive plastic bumbag.  I am so paranoid of losing all my money that I have it underneath my clothes.  This means that I have a very sweaty red belly (and am constantly in fear of overheating)   

If you think that’s bad, I also have a rash on my arm.  I sent a picture to Sarah and Alan (ex nurse and ex GP) and they confirmed that I do indeed have ringworm.  Ace!  Apparently it’s nothing to worry about and I could have got it from anywhere.  It has nothing to do with the fact that I am dirty stinker (I think they might just be being kind).

My feet look like they have been dragged up and down a cheese grater and you could actually sharpen knives on my heels.  They were never my best feature (The Breed’s all have feet like hobbits) but now they are in another league of wrongness.  I may have to soak them in wax for about 3 days once I return.

And then to add insult to injury I have the most ridiculous tan you have ever seen.  It’s a bloody good job that no one sees me (or is likely to see me) naked as I have a brown face, arms and legs (just up to my knees) and the rest of me is white.  It’s too sexy. 

Now if you’d all like to form an orderly queue.  I’ll be back before you know it.  I have a feeling that you’ll all want a bit of me now. 

Devil Monkey

It was my last day in Ooty so I went for a little wander before my train came and low and behold, I immediately bumped into Benny (the 20 year old birthday boy).  I can only imagine he camped outside for the night.  The fact that I didn’t call him apparently gave him no indication at all that I wasn’t remotely interested.  He said he was waiting for me as he wanted to give me a massage (what is it with Indian men and massages).  Could you be any weirder, Benny boy?

I managed to ditch my young stalker and walked into town.  On my travels I met Danny Glover (travel agent) and my little 6 fingered pal (no tears today).  They are both really sweet.  6 finger man was by far the most excited though as he said “whoop whoop, Kate is here” Bless his little cottons.  I even managed to find some wifi (so my pictures are now on facebook).  I now have 3 trains to catch, totalling an impressive 16.5 hours.  India is really fucking big.

I got the miniature steam train from Ooty to Mettupalayam.  It goes around the mountain and the views are breathtakingly beautiful.  From the train you can see the forests, waterfalls and tea plantations.  I tried to take some photos but they came out pretty cack so you’ll just have to take my word for it.  As Peskett said (Hello Andy), all the shit stuff will be forgotten (with a few months of intensive therapy under my belt) but that train journey will stay with me forever.

The downside to the train journey was that a young Indian girl started to speak to me and I couldn’t understand a word she was saying.  I'm assuming that she was speaking English but it was very hard to tell.  She told me her name about 10 times and each time was waiting for me to repeat it.  It had about 20 syllables for fuck sake.  Why couldn’t she just have been called Sue?   It was excruciatingly painful.  Luckily someone saw a herd of wild elephants out of the window so that ended what seemed like the longest half an hour of my life. 

The train had a scheduled stop at a place called Hillgrove Station.  We all got off to get snacks etc and were surrounded by monkeys.  I may have now seen about a million monkeys since I arrived but I still get excited.  Who doesn’t love a monkey? They were super tame and were taking food from our hands (I nearly passed out from glee at this stage).  One of them though had a fucked up face and looked like a devil monkey (pictures soon to be on facebook).  Even Bieber wouldn’t want this one. 

Saint Clarkey

Ooty has been really good for me.  I have loved the peace, quiet and anonymity.  I woke up feeling the happiest I have been in a long time.  My relaxed state soon turned to sheer panic when I realised that my bank card was missing.  I am not sure if it was stolen or if I lost it but the bottom line is, again I am up shit street.  

Clarkey again came to my rescue.  I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her.  Time and time again she has bailed me out of trouble (I seem to get in a lot).  She arranged for me to pick up money from Western Union (thanks for the tip, Harvi although I didn’t think I would be needing it so soon).  Clarkey I owe you everything.  I love, love, love you.  Thank you.   I now just have to make sure that I don’t to lose the money.   I hate myself, but I am now sporting a very attractive bumbag so that I don’t lose anything.  I look as cool as fuck!

Barclays, again, have been most unhelpful.  Tosspots!  (that excludes our Jo.  She works for Barclays and is not a tosspot at all.  In fact she is the bestest sister a girl could ask for.  Hello Joey (she loves being called Joey.  Or just Decan for short). 

I went to the local market to have a mince around and soon regretted doing so.  The fruit and veg part was lovely but then I came to the animal section.  It was heartbreaking seeing all the animals in cages.  It’s just part of how they live though and I have no room to talk seeing as I eat meat.  I quite obviously look like a tourist but this didn’t stop one bloke from trying to sell me a chicken.  What the fuck am I going to do with a live chicken?  I said no but he kept on, lowering the price.  The only way he was going to get money out of me was to kill it, cook it and put it in a bap. 

I was looking forward to reporting that in all the time I was in Ooty I didn’t get hit on once.  Alas that has gone out of the window.  This afternoon a young bloke on a bike (how can they all afford bikes?) pulled up to say that he knew I was staying at Reflections Guest House (eerie) and he would give me a lift home.  I said I wanted to walk and then he gave me a sob story about it being his birthday (his 20^th birthday.  Now I don’t mind ‘em young but that is bordering on Glitter territory) and had no one to celebrate with. 

I said if I had time I would call him later (I know. I really need to learn to be more forthright).  I obviously didn’t call and so instead he took to lurking about outside the guest house.  Julie Walters (who in all the time I have been here has been wearing just a dressing gown) came into her own when she knocked for me and asked me if I wanted her to get rid of him.  I knew there was a reason why I liked her.  She then went into a full on tirade about how men are all lecherous cretins and how men were always throwing themselves at her.   Hopefully you can now get a picture of how bad they are, if they are trying to hit on Mrs Overall.  

Egg / Chocolate / Beer

I was planning to go on a hiking tour but I woke up too late (my bed really is that comfortable) so instead I just kicked about in town.  On my travels I met an old man.  He didn’t have a tooth in his head and looked like he hadn’t had a good meal (or wash) in weeks.  He felt the need to show me that he has 6 fingers on one hand.  Well, it was more like the thumb had two fingers nails.  Super freaky.  I wanted to take a picture but I thought that might be seen as slightly insensitive.  Suddenly, without warning, he burst into tears.  I couldn’t really work out why (maybe I just have that effect of men).  I felt really sorry for him so gave him some money to get a coffee.  He then hugged me so hard I thought I might break in two.  I might need to get myself another tetanus jab!

On my way to lunch (I had an egg curry.  I love an egg, me.  My friend Jane once told me that I speak about eggs much more than the average person, so I promise I’ll try to limit my egg conversations to just this one) I thought I would count the homemade chocolate shops (Do you understand why I sometimes question what it is I’m doing here?).  I gave up after about 100.  Every other shop is a chocolate shop.  It’s like the East End with  fried chickens shops.  There really is no need, guys!

I found a place to eat and as normal I was the only person in there.  After about 5 minutes a really young school boy came to sit opposite me.  He could have only been about 8 years old.  The place was really big and there were about 10 spare tables he could have chosen.  The weirdest part is that he didn’t even speak to me.  It was really disarming.  When I smiled at him, he looked at me like I was a nonce.  Funny little fella.

On the way home I saw a beer shop so I got my brave hat on and went inside to order a couple of bottles.  Women just don’t go into these shops (I used to think that they weren’t allowed.  Apparently they are but is just doesn’t happen) so to suddenly have a chick rocking up is probably weird for them.  They didn’t feel the need to hide their amusement.  The blokes inside (customers and staff) were blatantly laughing at me.  They even called people out of the storeroom to come and see the funny western alki girl.  To makes matters worse they then roll the bottles individually in newspaper, to make you feel like a total tramp.    Still the humiliation was worth it.  I got beer! God bless Kingfisher.