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.
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.
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