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Taj Yourself

You can’t go to India without returning with the picture that has been taken a billion times, so here it is. The symmetry and scale of the thing was pretty damn amazing, but the inside was pretty shit!

Orlando and Communication

Orlando often has monologues with the Indian citizens. For example, today I witnessed a hat seller approach Orlando and say “Hat sir?”. Orlando replied with a one minute “conversation” which included that he only liked straw hats and many other English colloquialisms that went right over his head. Without Orlando even noticing, the man had fled! Not only this, but he takes joy in speaking to every single person we walk past, and when he gets bored, just fobs them off onto me. That being said, my remarkable English politeness and patience came unraveled the other day, when a nice English speaking local who had given us directions the day before reapproached us and started speaking. I interrupted him mid-sentence with my reflex reply “No Thanks”. Urg :S

Ayurvedic Massage

I’m not gonna lie, I love a good massage. Whether it is given to me by the professional thai hands of nong May or some other random woman. However, this massage was different. Firstly, it was a nude massage, which I was fine with. What I was not fine with however was the slippery table I had to lie on (the slipperiness being of unknown origin) and the wondering hands of the masseur who definitely loved me. When it was over, I showered for about an hour but could not remove the sin. Sometimes I cry before I go to sleep and at other times, I have vivid nightmares (probably caused by my anti-malarial medicine but hey!). Orlando, the king of all things slippery, loved it I reckon although he refuses to talk about it. Haha. Only kidding.

Football (Indian Style) and Other Things I Hate

I don’t expect much from a football pitch. After years of playing around Battersea and Wandsworth where left wings were often out of use due to fallen trees/broken bottles/gangs of angry kids on the sideline etc, I have pretty low standards. When Lubes and I came across a group of kids playing in a rural village in Kerala, we thought we’d teach them a lesson. This was the worst surface I have ever played on. I think it was a rice field, but in any case, it was waterlogged, amazingly muddy, very long grass in patches, dangerously rocky in parts, and was surrounded by concrete lined, sharp bottomed shallow waters. I have played beach football in Rio and I found this a bit painful (sensitive feet) but this was a whole new level.

Our victory came at a cost: I am now limping quite heavily from a semi-sprained right ankle. I also slipped quite heavily, my toes being caught on some rice grass before forcing them under my own foot. That has led to a loss of a toe nail, and sprained toe ligaments (I think, I’m no doctor). Not only this, but (if squeamish, don’t read on…) a mosquito bite which was already pretty gruesome has become badly infected and is now about the size of a popodom. This is trying to heal itself, but every time I walk, the cut is stretched and opens again. I have no plasters either (bloody mum) so the cut sticks to my socks revealing a fresh wound every time, which at times is a white colour (Ellie- save me). Orlando has to now cope with my non-stop whining and exaggerated limping.

While I’m ranting, I might as well talk about other things I hate. Mosquitos: me being all nature and that, I wouldn’t hurt a fly, but a mosquito is a different story. I hate them and they hate me. At times, I am tempted to screw the computer shit, and devote my life to destroying the mosquito vermin. I worked out that I could probably kill about half a million in my life time, unless I developed some sort of chemical weapon… mmmm…..

Other things I hate include spray on plasters (worst invention ever- they only made my cut worse) and the words “galore”, “lush”, “puss” and “kookie” (ala Phoebe from Friends).

Houseboat

Our trip so far hasn’t been particularly lavish, so we decided to splash out. Our houseboat cost us £20 per day and was worth every penny. It included a personal chef, a captain and a Benson (butler/general skivvy to my non-London peeps). It was a double decker boat, one floor for the crew, the other for the royalty i.e. Lubes and I. We cruised the Keralan backwaters and drank beer and chai while our chef prepared various snacks and meals. I don’t know why, but to have a number of servants felt so right! I don’t know how I’ve survived my life so far without!? At night, we joined the locals in a village festival where we danced to some hectic Indian hits under severe monsoon rains! Orlando nearly electrocuted himself a number of times after boogying into the precariously wet lighting systems – he was warned twice, but as I have learnt over the last month, Orlando is a bit of a clutz. I have also had to enroll him in etiquette school (taught by yours truly), after a number of embarrassing moments at the dinner table. I believe he resents me for it, but it makes me laugh so I shall continue.

Misc

Other than that, we have spent loads of times on beaches in Goa and the southern tip of India. We rented an automobile which was pretty pimp (kinda like my old 205 but with illegal levels of tinting). We went to a traditional Indian Kathakali dance show where they acted out an assault, a confession and a killing over the space of nearly 2hours. I might sound like a bit of a swine for shitting on culture like I’m about to but: it was fucking boring as hell. We also watched Rush Hour 3 after we felt withdrawal symptoms from western culture; it was meh (meh means meehhh). Namaste.
Posted by Will Ryan under the categories Travel and India
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