Porn Room

So after what seemed like an eternity of waiting we set off for the journey to Munnar. Fish shotgun the front seat which suited me down to the ground as it meant that he had to do all the talking to the driver. My social skills have all but disappeared since I’ve been in India. I am close to being mute. I was looking forward to putting in my earphones and listening to my music (thank god I had music as the alternative was listening to the worst techno music I've ever heard. I wouldn’t mind but the driver looked like the least techno person I have ever come across. He looked like he should be in local government).

I am shockingly bad at learning names but in this instance I didn’t even know the drivers name (Fish asked but I had switched off long before that). Regardless of what his name actually was he was known as Cautious Colin. This bloke has got to be the most sensible driver in the whole of South India. I think I could have walked faster up the bloody mountain. My patience was wearing very thin as I felt as sick as a dog and just wanted to get there. There is nothing enjoyable about sitting in the back of a car for 6 hours (the journey should have taken 4.5hrs. Way to go, Colin). There really are only so many games of I-Spy you can play.

As soon as I needed the toilet my mood went from foul to murderous. I nearly bit poor Fish’s head off when he asked if I could wait until we got there. The answer to that particular question was no I fucking well cant. The roads were so bad and we were bouncing about so ferociously that I thought my bladder might actually burst (what do you mean I'm dramatic?). I had two choices, piss my pants or get out and squat in the road. I told Colin to pull over and with my last shred of dignity removed I squatted in the road (with my arse cheeks gleaming in the headlights of an on coming car). Squatting when you’re not steaming drunk is just grim. That being said the relief I felt far outweighed the shame. Right, who wants to go out with me? What do you mean, no?

We eventually arrived in Munnar at about 9pm. As soon as I got out the car I immediately felt the cold. It was chuffing freezing (it gets really cold at hill stations). It oddly made me miss home even more. I can’t wait to get back and dress in autumn gear. Autumn is my favourite season. I love the colours and smells. September is my favourite month of all. It feels magical. Like anything is possible. One of my best friends, Kelly knows how much I love September so she said that she would go out and take pictures of the leaves for me so that I could feel closer to home. I got a picture and a message later. The message said, sorry pal, I got drunk so didn’t go to the park so here’s a picture of me picking my nose instead. Who needs autumn leaves when you have Kelly? Wuv oo, bitch.

Colin dropped us at a place called JJ’s. A very happy chappy who we assumed was JJ showed us to the last room that he had, which was at the very top of the building. I felt like I was breathing through my arse by the time that I got there. It was all worth it though. When we got there we found the most spectacularly gaudy room I have ever come across. It looked as if it had been designed to host porn movies or swingers parties in the 70’s. I kept expecting to see naked women with really big oversized bushes, along with men with oversized moustaches kicking about (I was very disappointed not to see either) It had purple and pink drapes as well as a mahousive oversized bed, covered with a throw with a horses head on (a design as opposed to a real horses head). It was pure unadulterated chintz. I totally loved it. Chintztastic!

It's magic

Fish and I arranged to meet in Ernakulam on Tuesday. It was a nice feeling to know that this would be my last ever train journey in India. Not that it made the experience any the more enjoyable. I had reserved a seat but when I got there, there was a man sitting in my chair. I asked him to move and showed him my reservation ticket but it made no difference. He wasn’t budging. If this was a few months ago I would have probably been too nervous to kick off but India has made me as hard as nails so at one point I was even considering dragging the scrawny little fucker off the chair personally but luckily enough another bloke came along and saved the day. I got my seat and no blood was spilt. Phew.

6 bloody hours later I got to the hotel to meet Fish. It was only a couple of days but it was still lovely to see him. My happiness soon disappeared though when he told me that on his way back from Mysore he had seen a tiger. How bloody jealous am I. I have been in this sodding place for 3 (very long) months without a sniff of a tiger. I was also the only person not to see a dolphin in Varkala. I have though seen enough elephants to last me a life time. Do you think seeing 50 elephants equates to 1 tiger? Also I still have my top trump card of once seeing a gorilla (when I travelled around East Africa) so surely that has to beat tiger? Now that I think about it who do you think would win in a fight between a tiger and a gorilla?   Answers on a postcard to Kate (possibly has too much time on her hands) Breed.

We popped back to Cohin the next day (just to get some wi-fi). We went to a place called The Pepper House. It was like a small haven of tranquillity in the middle of a world of craziness. We sat in the garden overlooking the ocean. It was so peaceful. That is until the young waiter came over to tell us riddles and show us magic tricks. I HATE any form of magic. Just by virtue of the fact that It’s not bloody magic. Unless you’re actually Gandalf the Grey I am not remotely interested.

He had obviously only just started to learn “magic” as it was more painful than normal to watch. He asked Fish to pick a card. He then made 6 piles of cards and asked Fish to point to the pile his card was in. This process went on until eventually (after what felt like a couple of weeks) he produces the card which Fish picked. Even I knew what frigging card it was. Fish is so cute though and was kind enough to put on a shocked 'how did you do that' face. Matey was beaming like he had just produced a live rabbit from a hat. The Harry Potter films have a lot to answer for.

We asked little Potter to organise a taxi to take us to Munnar. As with everything in India it wasn’t straight forward. A bloke arrived, so I started to get my stuff together only for him to say that he was just delivering a message from another bloke would come to take us there but he is going to be a while as he is packing his overnight stuff. What? About 2 hours later (and after more shit magic tricks that no one should have to endure) a very sensible man arrived to take us up the mountains to Munnar. I can’t say I was looking forward to the 5 hours car journey but by this stage I would have pretty much given anything to get away from young Potter.  Peace at last.

Ghostbuster Jelly Fish

I went out for a walk along the beach when Fish left. Now that he has left it is back to fending for myself in terms of dealing with the thousands of sales men trying to sell you their wares. Why anyone would come to India and want to buy a pair of neon devil horns is pretty much beyond me but every day neon devil horn man chances his arm just in case over night I’ve had a change of heart and can now see the benefit of owning such a pair of horns.

It was all becoming a bit much on the shop front so I thought I’d take my chances on the beach instead. Whilst I was walking along the sea front I saw hundreds of jelly fish (and for once I’m not exaggerating for dramatic effect). They were bright purple and the size of a big dinner plate. I spoke to one of the fishermen and he told me that on roughly the same day every year these jelly fish float ashore (to their death). He then showed me a huge pile of jellyfish that had been fished out and were slowly dying of the beach. They looked like something out of Ghostbusters. Their bodies slowly disintegrate but not before they flatten out to look like giant, purple, toxic omelettes. Rank!

The next day they had all gone (I am hoping that they had been binned rather than distributed to local restaurants) so I went to sunbathe on the beach. I had settled myself on a bed when Harry came along. Harry is a 60 odd year old man who is on holiday with his mum! He was a sweet man, but Jesus, the man could talk for England. Within 10 minutes I knew all about his wife’s first divorce (well her only divorce in fact), that he is unable to have children (something wrong with his tubes) and that his step daughter has anorexia. I was starting to want to take my own life.

He said to me that he didn’t want me to feel uncomfortable as he could tell that I probably get a lot of unwanted male attention. He wanted to put my mind at rest that he wasn’t that way inclined which I thought was quite sweet.  I later fell asleep only to wake up with him looking over at me smiling. He then said that he was watching me while I slept and thought I looked like a Bond Girl. Which bit about that is not unwanted attention? I quite like the idea of looking like a Bond Girl but I fear he might mean Judi Dench. The sun really ages you.

While I was on the beach I got a message from Fish, which really made me chuckle. It seems that Fish may have found his inner gay. He got propositioned when he was in Mysore. The opening chat up line was “Are you German?”, then when Fish said no the bloke asked “Are you gay?” I'm not sure how one question leads to another?  Fish was at the time dressed in an Hawanian shirt, looking at a big palace that is completely covered in fairy lights so I suppose you can’t blame the bloke for thinking that he might bat for the other team. I think Fish is still traumatised now.