You yog NOW!

We arrived in Dharamasala last night, and are now settled here in the mountains for a couple of days. Manali was stunning, everywhere you walked there were mountainous ranges peeking at you though every pathway, out of every window, from every shop stall. We got a ski lift up the mountain and went para gliding in the morning. That is indescribable, but I shall try. It's the closest you can get to those dreams where you can fly. Beautiful. And take of was absolutely hilarious. Adam went first, and there was a slight language barrier between us and the para-instructors. They were Tibetan, we had a tiny bit of banter on the way up, after telling them we were from Manchester (no one's heard of Sheffield and it's too hard trying to explain Dorset) one said he knew Dave from Manchester, did we? Apparently everyone in India has a mate called Dave from either Manchester or London. He also told us he had an English girlfriend in London then blushed and collapsed into a fit of giggles at the mere mention of 'girls', making me think maybe he was exaggerating a bit, bless. Anyway, we got togged up and I watched as Adam set off first. Apparently the only instruction which he nearly but not quite understood was "Yog, YOG! You yog NOW" and then the parasail lifed and they set off, Adam half sitting in a chair, with a man on his back barking incomprehensible instructions urgently at him, as they traversed at a pace down the mountain, Adam, not having understood any of the instructions given in broken English, was being dragged along on his knees through shrubbery as he attempted to keep up with the instructor whilst they got gradually higher and nearer and nearer the precipice. It was only from watching Adam (whilst absolutely pissing myself laughing) that I figured you had to run (or 'jog') during take off. It is infinitely quiet and peaceful up there, and I have now decided to change professions, I no longer want to teach, and am even giving up my dream of being a Vietnamese goat herder; I am now going to be a Tibetan Paragliding Instructor in Manali. Landing was also a mission, I attempted to avoid landing on my arse by commencing my jogging action in the air at least 10 feet from the ground, this did me little good as I crashed straight down, arse first in the mud, a Tibetan man on my back apologising profusely as I giggle and try to get up with as much dignity as possible.

After the paragliding, we went looking for some 'hot springs' action. Apparently they are up this hill in Manali, and walking up the hill, I have never seen so many pretentious looking hippies in my life. I don't mind a bit of pretension, they probably can't help it, but when coupled with distain for people not apparelled in appropriate back-packing-hippy attire, I thoroughly resent it. Anyway, ignoring the smug and slightly disdainful tree-hugging hippy-types, we climbed the hill, and were severely disappointed to find a small murky looking pool surrounded by iron bars and containing two Indian parents with their loud screaming children splashing around in what can only be described as an over-sized paddling pool. Not exactly the hot spring action I had eagerly anticipated (for your information this contained: a hot, rugged, bearded, Israeli man; a bottle of champagne on ice; some candles to set the mood. Far fetched, but not beyong the realms of possibility...one day... one day...)

Anyway, that night we ate at a Tibetan restautant, which was lush. Very noodley and tasty and filling. To wash down the Momos we had plum wine, then rhododendron wine, then peach cider, then beer. The alcohol content stickers on beer over here are quite amusing and far from informative; it usually says it can be anywhere between 3% and 8.5%. As any beer drinker knows, this is quite a difference, and makes the decision about how much to have a little bit of a conundrum, being the restrained and conservative sensible drinkers that we are. So after the restaurant we went to the 'ENGLISH BEER AND WINE SHOP' (does exactly what it says on the tin) and bought more beer for the hotel, cos everything shuts at 11 here. After drunkenly finding Goodu, we got tipsily into the SUV, and sat talking loudly and asking him a barrage of questions, until in the end he put on very loud music, mostly, I now believe, to shut our drunken babbling up ("Hey, heeeeey Goodu, are you married? Hey hey heeeeeey, Goodu, do you drink? Have you ever got, like drunk? OH. MY. GOD!! Hey, hey Goodu hasn't had a drink for 12 years! Heeey Goodu, we LOVE you! You're not like all the other drivers, you make us feel safe innit! Innit guys! We, hic, looooove you Goodu, hic.) Now, have limited access to music of any kind for a while, your reaction to something you know, no matter how shit it is, is exaggerated. Add to this the wine and cider, and you can imagine our glee as the opening notes of 'Barbie girl' by Aqua came blaring through the tape recorder. Singing along with relish, our joy was only heightened when a bit of Shakira came on. Goodu found this all highly amusing, so when we got back to the hotel, full of (alcohol and) goodwill towards man, we insisted Goodu (a strict Hindu man) come and have a drink with us "You can have water! Yessh, come an av a drink of water Goodu!"). Anyway, we had a long chat with Goodu where he told us about his life, he's been a driver since his dad died when he was nine, and he had to go out to work to support his mum. Then everone had a mini argument with Adam as he tried to insist to Goodu that the local council's inability to fix the pot holes in Sheffield made it just as arduous to drive as in India (where most road have one lane and there are frequent landslides and cow and monkeys and horses and gaping holes leading to crevasses into which one can fall into a heavily gushing river and die).


So the ten hour trip here yesterday was, as you'd expect, subdued. There was a little post-boozy-night barfing. And apparently Goodu went up to Adam and Troy while Adele and I were on a toilet stop, and confided that he understood, and that that he used to drink quite a lot but would get in fights, this is why he abstains now. So we're in Dharamasala, having a wee rest before we go trekking, and despite protests that it's just not worth it, contemplating going to a few bars around the area tonight.

Monkey Attacks and jumping off mountains

So when we were in Shimla we went up a mountain (... a large hill, but by the time I'd gotten us lost and we'd found the right path, and gone up that, it felt like a mountain) to Lakhu temple which had been over run by MONKEYS! How much fun would this be? We were anticipating it with excitement. However, when we heard you needed to buy a stick because the monkeys could get frisky, I felt the enthusiasm waning. And as we climbed the massively steep hill towards the temple, and people coming down were gesturing at Troy and Adele's glasses, and telling them to remove them, or the monkeys would, we figured out that maybe the monkeys were not only cheeky, but also actively aggressive. The final straw came as three local kids who were above us on the climb to the temple, came charging down screaming (and laughing a bit) as three monkeys came chasing after them. Behind the monkeys chasing them, I could see a hoard of more monkeys charging down the hill. We sat down to take stock. Adam's rage from earlier had now turned to terror, and he developed his own mantra of "I don't like this, I don't like this". The three monkeys arrived at our seat, and the Daddy ambled over to opposite us, and just sat opposite us, staring! It. was. terrifying. Can a monkey duff you up and then claw your face off with his bare hands? In my head it can when it's sat opposite you staring intently at you. But then the Mummy and baby passed, and he went on, he was obviously just protecting his family, but Jesus wept it shook us up. Then some French tourists came up behind us, and one of them was a reassuringly confident-looking man, I couldn't figure out why I liked this man and felt safe in his presence, but upon examining him, his confidence clearly emanated from the massive stick he was holding and banging the ground in front of himself with. We shamefacedly tagged on to the back of the group of The Man With The Stick and carried on up the hill, after Adele had craftily tied her glasses to her head with the toggle from a rain mac. Reaching the top we find a man selling lots of sturdy looking sticks for five rupees. Said man is also strategically throwing food at tourists' feet as they reached the top, causing a group of monkey's to surge forward towards them, making them feel vulnerable and in need of some sort of protection. Astute. Turns out we didn't need the sticks, I think it would have been different if we'd have foodstuffs in our bags, but the hundreds of monkeys left well alone, and we enjoyed the panoramic views of the mountains the highest hill in Shimla afforded. Later on as me and Adam had gotten lost and were trying to return to the town centre to meet Adele and Troy, one of them dry humped Adele's leg, and we missed it! Apart from that no crazy monkey action really.

We're now in Manali. We've hired a jeep type vehicle and a driver, I know this is completely decadent, but it's low season and it was only 500 rupees more than public transport, and with two ten hour stretches before us, we thought 'feck it'! Our driver, Goodu, is lovely and not completely insane or in any heinous life-or-death-hurry to get everywhere, which makes for a very very unusual driving experience; I don't feel like death is on the other side of every lorry we over-take. He's very relaxed. Personally I think he's so relaxed for a special reason, more of which later on. So we set off from Shimla at 8am and arrived in Manali at 9pm. The drive to Manali was beautiful, the road is on the side of a mountain, the river Beas, which Goodu told us comes from China and goes all the way to Pakistan, runs alongside the road, and there are massive waterfalls drifting down from the cloud covered mountain tops above us. It's obviously hairy at times, with such small roads, but as the rule of the road dictates, we are in a larger vehicle than most, so are given nuff respec and more room than most.

As we arrived in Manali, the windows open, cool mountain air rushing through the windows, we all noticed a certain extremely distinct scent rolling in from the dark mountains. On waking this morning and looking out of the window, the second thing which struck me is the reason I think Goodu is so relaxed and good at driving over here. We are surround by Marijuana plants. They're everywhere! I mean EVERYwhere. It's mental. The first thing which struck me was the view, it's just amazing. I don't understand why mountains have such an awesome effect, but they do and they are sublime. And we jumped off one this morning! We went paragliding, which was exquisite, and shall be described in much more detail later...

The Rage of Adam

We've now arrived in Shimla, in the mountains. It's so different up here. We got a 'toy train' which wound up through the mountains, took 6 hours from Changigarh, and you could feel the air getting thinner and cooler as we went up and up, excellent respite after the sweltering heat down at the bottom of them there mountains.

Chandigarh was rrrrrubbish. It reminded me of Bill Bryson's description of Milton Keynes, it's a newly built town, structured around grids, and it has no soul. The roundabouts just have numbers on instead of places, making it seem robotic and characterless. The experience was tainted by the fact I am suffering on the inside and have been having to order cheese sandwiches whilst everyone else is tucking into lush exotic Indian food. We went to a reet posh Indian restaurant t'other night, and I ordered said substance and chips. I really wanted to ask for ketchup but it felt wrong, in India, in a posh Indian restaurant: " Oy, chips an cheese, mushy peas wiv ketchup, a cup o tea, and av you gorra copy of today's Sun for me to read? Fank-yoo garcon chop chop". Anyway, the waiter was the best I've ever come across, he must have seen the quandary in my eyes, and brought ketchup after everyone else's meals were served, without me having to ask! Must have known I'm English and ordering chips in an Indian restaurant, not the most discerning customer he's ever had. I want to go back now I've recovered and order the hottest most non English spicy Indian thing on the menu, just to show him I do appreciate delicious food and wouldn't ordinarily go out of my way to order the shittest blandest thing on the menu.

The coolest experience for me was leaving Chandigrah for the station. We got a taxi. Driven by a MENTALIST. Made worse by the fact we left our passports in the hotel and had to go back, and he wanted to get us there on time, and paid no heed to other drivers, withered old men on push bikes, or roads actually. We went up kerbs, through a herd of cows, and must have cut up at least 50 other drivers. It was ace. Though Adele pointed out in the back she couldn't really see how many times we nearly died, which was the main focus of my attention (actually had clenched fists and turned my body to the side ready for impact twice) so she was forced to focus on the music filling the car: a mantra CD of 'Hari Om', which is to say, a CD of a man and woman going "Hari Om, Haaaariiiii Ooooooommmmm, HAAARIIII OOOOOOOOM, Hari Om, Harriiiiiiii Ommmmm" over and over and over and over and over again, which she said felt like some sort of mental endurance test! Another nice thing about Chandigrah was Nek Chand's rock garden (bear with me, it's better than it sounds, I, at first was not into going to see a garden of rocks. Flowers? Maybe. Fountains? Definitely. Rocks? Bugger off.) A local man made some art work out of old porcelain bog seats and spent years on it, hidden, then the council found it in a forest and and thought it wor orite, so opened it to the public, added some waterfalls, and now it's the second most visited attraction in India. Pretty good. AND Troy and Adele were asked to pose for photographs on these massive swings and told they would feature in the biggest selling national paper in India. I can not wait. For the majority of them, Adele was sat on the swing, Troy standing behind her, hips thrust out, his crotch resting on her head, Adele looking quite uncomfortable and Troy looking smug. They moved to a more comfortable position, which I am sure the press will run with, but it did look funny. And I got given a baby. A real live one! We were sat relaxing and sweating on some rocks in the sun, when a man and his wife and baby came over. I could see he was going to ask for something, so prepared to take a nice picture of them in front of the rocks. But he just plonked the most gorjus baby on my lap! Not having been in India long, we pondered whether this was a present? 'Welcome to India, 'ere y'are". She had the biggest most beautiful eyes. Would have run off with her if he hadn't insisted on having a photo shoot with us each holding her. He said this was his proudest moment, and he would show her the photos when she was 18. I don't know how far he's been in his life, or what he's achieved, but the very fact he has a baby, surely, surely this was a far prouder moment, than when 4 people from Sheffield held his baby for a photo. Maybe not. Maybe he lived in a hermit round the corner and had never left his house or seen humans before.

But the toy train to Shimla was absolutely breath-taking. It was long and arduous at first (it says it takes 5 to 7 hours, ours took 6.5) and I was sat next to an Indian man who took up most of a seat for two, despite being quite skinny. I don't normally like close proximity to strangers, in fact I the opposite of like it, but he was well over on my side, for absolutely no reason, so I kept budging him over with my bum and elbow, and in the end it was a battle of wills between who could maintain full side body contact the longest. He kept winning cos he kept falling asleep on me. Cheat. I don't know how he managed to sleep either, because every time we went through a tunnel, every child on the train (there were a lot) went "Woooooooo! RRRaaaaaaaaah! Aaaaarrrrghhhh!" screaming at the top of their lungs, it was hysterical. Anyway, when we curled up to the top of the mountain, we kept going through clouds, you could see them coming, and the view below was just stunning. It looked like them floating mountains on Pandora, only they weren't suspended in the air, that's just stupid and impossible. There were lots of misty mountains and lush verdant hillsides and moss-covered trees and waterfalls. AND because the health and safety wank we have in England doesn't exist here (they usually do the opposite of what is healthy and safe, a much more interesting and rewarding approach to life if you ask me) the door of the train was open the whole time, and you could sit there, with your feet dangling over the side, as the train track got really thin and the door opened straight onto a steep and magnificent drop into a valley. Fanfuckingtastic. (It's done now mum and I didn't die, so no need to worry!)

Oooh, another fearful experience we've encountered in India is Adam's incandescent rage. It flares up at a moments notice and is a wonder to watch! It comes at tuk tuk drivers, pushy salesmen, basically anyone who pedals their wares at him and gets all up in his face. The angry beast within first emerged when we arrived in Chandigarh, it was late, we were deadly tired, and from the moment we stepped out of the station there was a relentless barrage of men coming at us (they mostly target Adam and Troy cos they think they're in charge. He he) offering cheap hotel, tuk tuk, etc etc. We were disorientated and didn't know what was going on, and after politely declining many offers for hotels Adam shouts "Just FUCK OFF will you?!" I don't think they were offended, well, they didn't stop anyway, I don't think they even noticed. They ushered us into a tuk tuk, and dropped us at our requested hotel, which was full, so we tramped round the grid city getting turned away from 3 hostels before we found a (gorjus but vastly over our budget) place to stay.

Delhi (Belly) Part Deux

WARNING: Sever and intimate details of grossness, do not read if you have cleanliness OCD and or are slightly sensetive or grossed out by mice and cockroaches and... digestary problems.

Well, we're back in Delhi now, have picked up one shattered but happy looking Adele and are going to the druggie train station to pick up our train tickets in a bit. We're heading up north to Chandigragh, then Shimala, where there's a groovy toy train which goes winding up through the mountains.

I thought Delhi may be a bit like Bangkok, intimidating, scary and rank at first, but me and Han developed a real affection for it after the second time, and grew to love it living there for a month. Delhi? Not so much. Was looking forward to coming back but the constant heat is stifling and inescapable in the middle of the city, unless you go to Connaught Place and sit in very expensive bars with beautiful beautiful air con. Though we went to one of these, Zen, for one beer last night and there was a mouse darting under all the tables! I never thought I'd be the type to stand on chairs squealing, but turns out, I am! He was cute, but I couldn't get the thought of him nibbling my feet out of my head and sat with my feet up eyeing the floor whilst sipping my beer the whole time. And they reckon they're reet posh! Anyway, I think the Delhi experience has been marred by the thoroughly repulsive hotel we stayed in last night. We're in Hotel Amax now, but they had no rooms last night and sent us to their sister hotel 2 minutes away. Well, if that was my sister, I think the most humane thing to do would be to lock her in a cellar far far away from the public eye and never let her out. The first sight we were greeted with in the room was a babby cockroach. After exhaustive attempts we concluded that they are indeed invincible over here and gave up. I managed to up my mosquito kill count to 4 in the bathroom. Talking of which, there was a hole high in the wall, and we could hear what other guests were doing. I was awoken in the middle of the night by a drunken person falling out of bed, a very distinct sound: stumble, groan, BANG, ouch, hiccup, snore. Adam heard retching and hocking up. Nice. On top of all this I've got Delhibelly and the toilet flush didn't work. Altogether an experience never to be repeated. No one should ever, under any circumstances, stay in room 202 in Hotel Hindustani on Arakashan Road in Delhi. Let this be a warning for all who venture to Delhi.

So yeh, with that and the heat, Delhi's charms weren't making much of an impression. However, that's all man made shit, the natural world's making up for it. We were wondering the streets earlier and I thought someone had gobbed on me from above. But moving away from all things gross, it was the rain, it started with spatters of masssive rain drops, and then commenced full on flooding, a massively welcome relief in all the heat. We sat in a local restaurant and ate proper Indian food, 55 rupees (under a quid) for 2 butter rotis and tomatoe paneer, the nicest I've had so far. The eating experience was only enhanced by the young boy standing on the table opposite us. He was inexpertly messing with a very complex looking box of electricity cables with a very electricity-conducting-looking spanner, whacking the electric cables and sending sparks of leccy over us as we ate, making the lights in the restaurant flicker on and off, giving it all a very charming (and slightly perilous, always a bonus) atmosphere. And the cows! I love them, they walk in threes, mostly, down the street in single file, completely unaware of their traffic-stopping capabilities (of which I am not a little jealous), swishing their tales, and sauntering along in search of, whatever it is they eat here, there ain't no grass, as I said before, I think it's mostly bullshit and newspaper. Yum.

Mosquitos: 69 injuries Vs Katy: 2 fatalities

So I woke up on Monday, or was it Tuesday? Have lost track of time over here, it's not relevant unless you're catching a bus. Anyway, woke up with an extra uninvited and completely unwelcome room mate last night. Was washing my face, reached over to grab my towel, and out of it emerged THE second biggest spider I have ever laid eyes on. Needless to say I screamed loudly and ran next door to bang on the lads' room, shaking and jumping at anything with happened to brush against me, thinking it was him creeping over me and trying to crawl through my hair and inside my ear to eat my brain, which is naturally what every spider in the world wants to do. Luckily Adam is not such a wuss and with his infinite man-skills managed to trap the beast in a large cup and carry it outside. What is it with spiders wanting to commandeer my bathrooms? They only need to ask. I would have been perfectly happy to pack up my things and leave the room never to return. He can have it if he wants, there's no need to freak me out whilst I am performing my morning ablutions. What if he crawled on me while I was asleep? Went and had a look round my mouth? Aaaaaaaaargh! EAU. Min.ging.

In other animal-related news, am epic war has broken out. I have 37 mosquito bites in total on my left leg, the majority of injuries sustained in the left ankle region. 22 are on my right leg, 3 on each arm, and, most worryingly, 5 in a cluster on my right bum cheek. I feel so... so violated! Why bite me there? And more importantly, how? They must be able to suck through clothes. I accept full responsibility for this airborne attack, having blithely stated "Oh, they don't really bite me, must just not like my blood, think I drink too much beer and they don't like the taste" at the start of this trip. In restrosect this was a vastly stupid thing to say out loud. They obviously overheard me, were affronted, convened, and voted to collaborate to take as much blood from me as possible, leaving as much evidence of their sucking as possible. Honestly, I have a little new found respect for the feckers, I've only seen two with my eyes, which I duly killed. Hah! But they are crafty and cunning like a fox. Miss you and your enticing legs Hannah!

Anyway, travel news: we hired a houseboat in Alaphuzha to float down the river inland, to see the local rural life of the people who live on the river. The boat was better than any house I've lived in; it came with a chef! And a driver and an engineer. And 2 bathrooms, and a lounge area where you could dangle over the side in the sun and watch the palm trees drift past, and the Kingfishers and eagles swooping overhead. The only sounds were the purring engine, the water lapping at the sides of the river, and the birds, with the occasional slap of cloth on concrete as we passed locals doing their washing. It was so soporific, I don't think I've ever been that relaxed. There was just one slight problem. They came out at night, in squadrons, with a thirst for blood. So the first night, we docked literally miles from anywhere, no boats, no other humans in sight. We went for a swim at sunset, which was like a warm bath, climbed a coconut tree, then sat down looking forward to a right tasty tea, lunch was local fish, cooked to perfection. The meal was the most surreal eating experience I have ever had. It was pitch black and because we were eating outside in the open air, the chef made us eat with only a dim fluorescent light overhead, of the type you get in train station toilets to stop tramps finding a vein and jacking up. This gave everything an ultraviolet radiance which looked wierd anyway. Then, as soon as he put the plates down it commenced. Tiny wee midgeys landed on anything white. The plates were white. Then the night attack began and I got bitten, this time a viscious attack on a vulnerable area: my stomach, so got up and changed into a long sleeved white work shirt, with hair bands round the collars to stop wrist entry. My fluorescent green socks were pulled right up over my hareem pants to block ankle level entry, and my hareem pants pulled right up Simon Cowell stylee over the white shirt, effectively closing off all access areas for the fuckers. Mum, I looked like you. Troy got bitten and jumped up to put the only thing he owned with a hood on to stop the buzzing from the flies in his ears; an anorak. Adam's head was covered in flies. And Viola got up and put on a bright green hoodie over her ears. Looking like a mishmash of freaky anoraks geeks and The Trunchbull, we then proceeded to attempt to eat this delish food. It was a mission and I reckon we each ingested at the very least 15 midgeys. After the meal we sat in the complete dark smoking and drinking beer (thank the lord midgeys don't like beer). It. was. strange.

The next day we floated along, sunbathed, went for a walk in the rice paddy fields, waved at the people in all the other house boats, and the locals on the shore of the river washing their clothes, their babies, their pots and pans in the river, then docked in the chef's local village. This was more built up and we actually managed to eat with the light on and minimal aerial interference. And the food was served on a leaf the chef cut from a plant on the riverside and we ate with our hands! That rocked. Woke up on the last day at sunrise and watched the mist roll along the river, had a breakfast of sponge and curry, and now, after a one and a half hour train journey north, which cost 40 rupees for four of us (70 rupees = a pound) we're in a funky home stay called 'Oy's' in Kochi, recovering from a hangover, killing time til we fly back to Delhi on Monday to collect Adele (Yay!) and head up north to the mountains.

Troy eats fish eyeball

Having had enough of cities we got a plane daan sarf and are now in Kovalam in Kerala, by the beach (yessss). The flight was good, changed at Mumbai, and coming in to land, saw the blue tarpaulin and corrugated iron of the slum, it covers a massive massive area, a city in itself.

It's a lot more laid back down here. There isn't the relentless cacophany of horns which dominate the city soundscape. A cab driver told us it was the music of Delhi, the drivers all honk their horns all the time, to move 'lanes' (used in the loosest sense of the word), overtake (pretty much a constant state of being for all drivers) let pedestrians / cows / dogs / monkeys know they're behind them and they need to move over or die the death of being squished. We've got a few Tuk Tuks now, and that in itself is an adventure. It's like being on the Knight bus in Harry Potter, the drivers squeeze themselves through the most inconceivably small spaces. I'm 90% sure some of the spaces we went through in Jaipur traffic were smaller than the Tuk Tuk itself. And you go so close to other drivers, you can see the minutest detail on their faces; the growing beard of a young Indian man on a motorbike next to us; the bindi on a Hindu woman's face; the snot in a sleeping child's nose.

Anyway, so so far we went from Delhi to Agra, saw the Taj Mahal, and then went on to Jaipur and saw loads and loads of monkeys (and a way cool money-fight, thjey are viscious) in an old temple and I got groped for the first and only time so far. With regards to that, I was expecting far worse from what I'd heard. Most of the bad stuff I'd been expecting I've not experienced. I thought it'd be a gropefest and I'd be shouting at and slapping men with my left flip flop (the recommended deterrent) all over the place. But it's only happened once. Maybe they just don't fancy me. What-ever, I don't care. I get groped ALL the time when I go out in England...

In Jaipur we were hassled by 2 Indian men as soon as we left the station, actually, I say hassled, they took us to the hotel we wanted to stay in, which was full (I checked myself) so they drove us to their mate's hotel, which turned out to be one of the nicest, friendlist ones we've stayed in. Tables were crap tho. As we were eating a massive thunder and lightening storm started, and the rain was coming in and soaking our food, so we tried to pick it up and the marble came off in our hands and crashed to the floor breaking on two. Me and Troy (Mike wanted a cool nickname for the trip) were left standing there with half a table in our hands. Slightly embarrassing. On apologising over and over again, the manager said "Is ok, you treat this hotel like home". Lovely. I'm always breaking stuff at home. We stayed in Jaipur just a day, and got a tuk tuk at 4am to the airport. That was one of the most beautiful experiences of the trip so far (sorry Taj Mahal). It was calm and quiet, a first in any city, and dark. There were gargantuan camels dragging carts filled with timber in the half light, men setting up their chai stalls under tarpaulin, one naked electric light bulb above them, other men asleep by the side of the road, no mattress, no pillow, just on concrete (that wasn't part of the beauty by the way, just an observation!).

We got to the airports and got a plane to Kochi, well we were supposed to, but the flight was late and we missed our connection in Mumbai so got a free lovely air conditioned car from Kochi to Kovalam. It took 6 hours, but was worth it. The coastline is just beautiful, lots of big rivers with riceboats casting their nets, palm trees and healthy looking cows. In the cities the cows may be sacred and traffic-stopping, but you can see their rib cages, I saw one eat a sheet of newspaper and some shit from a plastic bag. I'm not sure this is a good diet for a sacred being. The people look much healthier and happier here than in the cities too. In Delhi practically everyone is emaciated. A belly signals wealth. I am, therefore, extremely wealthy.

Kovalam's a massively westernised touristy place but it's off season at the moment, so there's hardly anyone here, which is nice. We went body boarding in the sea yesterday, the waves are massive and scarey and it's brilliant. Don't worry Ma, there's a life guard who blows a whistle and shouts at you if you go too far out. Today the sky is grey and its raining, and the men from the next beach, a fishing port, have filled the bay with their boats and nets. The seafood here is divine, and I'm not misusing that word. We shared a plate of the biggest prawns you've ever seen last night, and a red snapper, which came whole, face an' all, and Troy ate the eyeballs! Not even as a dare, just, for kicks! I tried, but on poking found it was far too squishy to go in my mouth. Really wanted to try the shark and the lobster, but the lobster is out of season and way too expensive, and the shark was only a babby one. Poor lamb. Tomorrow we head up the coast with our Brand New Travelling Companion wot we picked up, Viola, an Art teacher from Bristol. We're hiring a boat and travelling inland down a river which I spect'll be fecking fabulousness incarnate.